The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,100
lab—frightened Landon a bit. One thing that hadn’t changed, though, was the steel gurney centered in the room and the long mirror that ran along the back wall. That gurney had been disconcerting before, but was now downright terrifying with an elderly man lying strapped to it, unconscious. Landon approached the gurney; the door closed behind him.
He was probably in his seventies. His hair was stark white and his face covered in wrinkles that were typical for someone his age. Judging by how he looked on the steel table, he was rather short and ever so overweight. He was wearing a navy lab coat, and on his chest, just above the breast pocket, was the name “Dr. Pullman” and an owl clutching a branch embroidered in silver thread. It reminded Landon of the Pantheon logo that adorned the Gymnasium scientists’ lab coats, but Landon had never before seen this design.
Landon arched over the man’s body in an attempt to get a better look at him. He had a strange expression on his face, like someone who had been tortured and defeated, but his body showed no signs indicating anything reprehensible had happened to him. He had no scratches, bruises, burns—nothing. If it wasn’t for the pained expression on his face, Landon would have imagined he was in a coma or just asleep.
Landon reached out and put two fingers against the man’s jugular. Just when he could feel the faintest of pulses, the man stirred, which caused Landon to jump back from the table until he’d put a safe distance between them. Dr. Pullman rustled around a bit, as if he was fighting to free himself of the straps holding him to the gurney, but his movements looked labored. Landon rushed back to help him. The man strangely reminded him of Mrs. Bradford, but as he fought to unbuckle the strap running across his chest, Dr. Pullman spoke.
“No! Don’t undo my restraints,” the old man commanded in a scratchy, strained manner. “They can’t know you’ve been here.”
Terrified and confused, Landon looked down at the man, who lay there with his deep blue eyes staring back at him, looking determined through his lingering pain.
“You heard me, didn’t you?” he forced out while trying to keep his volume in check. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
Landon took a step backward, away from the man. The second question he heard loudly in his head; the man knew Landon would hear him telepathically.
Dr. Pullman’s voice reentered Landon’s mind. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you,” he said in a pitiful, remorseful tone, as if he were fighting back tears. “I’m so very sorry.” The elderly scientist closed his eyes and turned his head away from Landon.
What? What does he mean? Landon’s need for answers caused him to disturb the frail prisoner. He moved to the man’s side and shook him slightly.
“What are you talking about?” Landon was surprised by how loud he was speaking. He then crouched over, putting his mouth near the man’s ear and continued, “Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything to me.”
The man lay there unresponsive, but after a minute, he gently turned his head and looked at Landon; tears welled up in his eyes.
“They never told you, did they?” His voice resounded in Landon’s head. “They didn’t tell you how you obtained your gifts?”
Landon looked at him confused. What was this man trying to tell him?
“Please . . . Please forgive me. You must understand that I was young and ambitious. I never considered the consequences of playing God. If I had paid attention to what they would use you for, I’d have destroyed it all.”
“What are you talking about?” Landon pleaded in a low volume. “I came in here to help you. Why are you talking like you’re already dead?”
“Oh, boy, you are a noble one, but so naive,” the scientist replied telepathically. “I will die on this table. Whether it is this night or the next, my time on this plane of existence has run out.”
“But we’re in the medical wing. I can go and get Dr. Longfellow . . . or Dr. Márquez. They can help you.” Landon turned toward the door, prepared to dash into the hallway and alert one of the doctors.
“No!” the man’s voice echoed through Landon’s head. “Dr. Longfellow has done far too much already. But with your forgiveness, I can die in peace. Please tell me you forgive me.”