Chapter 3
Aiden
I’m not usually one to panic about things. In fact I tend to pride myself on being able to stay calm in stressful situations. But the way this day is going, that’s starting to be put to the test.
I’ve worked with Dr. Little before, just once, a few days ago. He gave me the rundown of the machinery I’d be operating and let me assist in a couple of trial runs. It was amazing, getting to see the shrinking technology in person. At this point I’ve watched a chair, an apple, and even a rat become miniaturized, and quickly I was realizing that this wouldn’t just be me getting simple credits for a college class. I was getting to witness history in the making.
I’d found it pretty insane that I would not only get to be his assistant for some of the human trials, this one apparently being the fourth, but that it would literally just be me and him running the show today. Could something this monumental really be happening on my own university campus? Well, technically across the street from campus, but still. I’m just a grad student. A Geology major at that, I’m not even a physicist or biologist or engineer. I’m not sure how I qualified for this. But I was just excited to be a part of it.
And then… and then everything got weird.
Dr. Little hadn’t come across as a particularly easy-going person on the first day, but he was nice enough and seemed to enjoy my excitement as he showed me how everything worked. But ever since Evie stepped into this room he’s been a little more tense. More concentrated. That makes sense to a certain extent - this is a huge deal. Pun very much intended. But the more time is passing the more my superior is starting to come off as… sketchy.
Up until now, I’ve been distracted from it. Watching a person shrinking down in front of me was nothing short of mind-blowing. I tend to keep it to myself, but I’ve always been fascinated by this kind of thing, and now I got to watch this young woman - this cute classmate of mine, no less - dwindling down like an ice cube melting in a time-lapse.
The only thing dampening my enthusiasm was how scared Evie looked when I approached her. Her long chestnut hair was completely disheveled, her tiny limbs trembling, her shining brown doe-like eyes giving me an almost pleading look as tears ran down her face. Like I was telling her, it would make sense that she’d be so freaked out, no matter how much preparation she went through. I’m sure it really didn’t help that she was still affected by all the anesthetics that were necessary for the shrinking process.
But… I’m starting to realize that there may be more to her fear. Her little voice was hard to make out, but I know what I heard. The suspicions swirling inside of me are becoming impossible to ignore. I scan the counter to my left, finding the micrometer that Dr. Little requested, and as I cross the lab again to hand it to him, I muster the determination to pose the rather horrifying question.
“I have to ask,” I begin hesitantly, gesturing towards the frightened shrunken girl that my boss is currently holding aloft. “Was she not… informed of what was going to happen?”
Dr. Little, who’s been clearing off the counter with his free hand, pauses, giving me a hard look. “Of course she was. What gave you that idea?”
I shift uncomfortably but push forward. “Did you not hear what she said earlier?”
“I think you’re the one who might have misheard.” He’s not looking at me anymore, setting things up for the next phase of testing. “Her voice doesn’t exactly carry very well. I can assure you she’s well aware of what the experiment entails.”
Evie lets out a tiny whimper. Her voice is weak but she manages to push out a scream as she throws her head back, and to me what she says is as clear as day.
“He’s lying–!”
She’s cut off as Dr. Little shifts his thumb just then, pushing it up against her face and covering her mouth. She looks so small in his fingers, so fragile, and I wince at how casually he just did that. My temper flares.
“Hey,” I snap, dropping any pretense of being deferential, “Come on, don’t you think you’re being a little rough?”
Noticing my shift in tone, Dr. Little turns towards me with a haughty air. My heart rate speeds up as my eyes are still fixed on my classmate that he’s handling so carelessly. From the way he jerks her around I worry her neck might snap from the whiplash alone.
“I’m starting to think I made a mistake with you,” he snarls. “You know, the only reason I’m even needing an assistant is because I can’t operate the machinery on my own. I’m not paying you to share your opinions on how I conduct my work. She’s fine.”
“I… Sir, listen, clearly there’s been a mistake here,” I growl back, feigning diplomacy to try to give him an out, “Some kind of miscommunication. I’m sure it was an accident, but we shouldn’t keep going until it’s cleared up.”
“I can assure you, there’s no mistake. The girl’s still recovering from the drugs and isn’t thinking straight. That’s all.” His eyes narrow and there’s a heaviness to his tone, almost like he’s trying to give me an out this time. “And here I thought we were kindred spirits. I thought you might have appreciated this… particular study.”
He’s gotten agitated. I want to reach for Evie, to try and take her away from this man who’s one step away from actually injuring her, but any struggle that might follow could result in disaster. Even now his grip on her looks too tight. I pause, feeling tense and helpless, and put my open hands up in an attempt to pacify him.
“Okay… okay, just… Take it easy," I say, as calmly as I can.
Dr. Little gives me one last, long glare before returning his attention to his work space. I can tell he’s keeping an eye on me, though. My mind’s racing. How do I stop this?
And… did he just say kindred spirits? I suddenly feel exposed, wondering if he’s somehow gotten access to my internet search history. I’m starting to think that maybe there really was a reason I was selected to be his assistant. I’ve always been interested in things like fairies and shrink rays as far back as I can remember, and I’d fantasized about having my own tiny friend more times than I can count. As I got older, my interests matured right along with me. But regardless of what my personal… tastes may be, this is different. This is real life. This is a real girl who’s in real trouble right now. If he truly thought I’d be okay with him shrinking someone and running tests on them without consent, then he has me read completely wrong.
I try to mentally run through my options. My phone’s in a different room, with most of the rest of my stuff in a locker. There’s a landline here for emergencies, but it’s on the other side of the counter and very visible. Is there some kind of panic button or something in this room that can call security? Probably not. What about the tablet I’ve been working on, can I use it to contact someone? Might be worth a shot. But even if I call for help, if this guy literally has a hostage in the palm of his hand, how the hell can anyone do anything without risking her getting hurt?
And then suddenly he makes a mistake. He needs both hands to adjust the micrometer and puts Evie down on the counter for a second, dumping her unceremoniously into a heap. I can see her little body shaking as she valiantly tries to get up again, and it gives me the courage I need to surge forward, to take action, to throw my hands around the threat–
“What are you doing?” Dr. Little yells angrily as I grab him around the chest from behind, pinning his arms against his torso. I wrench him sideways, just trying to pull him away from the counter, away from Evie, and I’m attempting to twist myself around and put my body between him and her.
I don’t answer him, not having had time to really come up with a plan, and just try to hold my own as my boss is fighting back now. I’m only slightly taller than he is and it doesn’t really offer an advantage, nor do I actually know how to fight. But the struggle doesn’t last more than a few seconds… and then a lot more happens in a very short period of time.
He wrenches an arm free and grabs at me - there’s the sound of ripping fabric as buttons pop off my lab coat and he gets a good grip on my clothes, breaking my hold as he throws me off him. I stagger back, and he loses balance from his own shove, tripping and falling and his back rams into a counter. The counter that happens to be housing the power generator for the shrinking machine.
The power generator he had told me to stay far away from.
There’s a loud crash of metal and plastic, a flash of a spark, and just like that, without so much as a yell, Dr. Little’s body convulses, goes stiff, and crumples to the floor. I feel like I watch it in slow motion, my breath getting caught in my chest. The slow motion continues as the power generator, as big as a suitcase and knocked askew, teeters on the edge of the counter before crashing to the ground as well. Then, on the edge of the fallen scientist’s lab coat, a flame begins to bloom.
The sight of smoke snaps me to my senses and I dart for the nearest fire extinguisher. But while my instincts were correct, I’ve never used one of these before. It takes me a second to find the pin, giving the fire an opportunity to flare up and envelop the generator, and as I squeeze the handle, I realize too late that I’ve aimed for the flames and not for the source. The extinguisher empties and I’ve failed to take care of the problem.
I hesitate for a second longer, wondering if I should continue to fight the fire. But the flames are moving fast and have already jumped to two other pieces of machinery, causing them to spark and pop. The blaze is growing as smoke quickly fills the room.
I have to get out of here. And, I realize, I have to get Evie out of here too.
Hurrying over to the counter, I make eye contact with the tiny, terrified girl who’s just watched all of this unfold in massive proportions. She’s frozen in place, paralyzed by the cocktail of fear and anesthetics. Without saying anything I gather her into my hands, trying to be as careful as I can in my haste, and instinctively I hold her up to my chest, cupping her body against me with one hand so that I can keep the other one free. As I look back up towards the exit, Dr. Little’s briefcase somehow catches my attention, right next to us on the counter. I grab it. And bolt towards the door.
The blaze has spread so quickly in the room and I hear yells and alarm bells as I run through the building and smoke fills the air. People are rushing out, some of them panicking - a chemical lab is a terrible place for a fire to break out. I’m starting to cough before I reach the front door, breaching it and joining the group of people that has gathered just outside. I take a deep breath of clear air. My head is spinning as I remember my little passenger, and even as I try to put space between me and the burning building, I take a moment to look down, to tilt my hand back just a bit so that I can check on Evie.
Her miniscule fingers are clutching at the fabric of my half-torn lab coat, her eyes momentarily squinting against the sudden influx of light before they widen again. She looks like she’s wheezing and when she tries to say something she’s instead overtaken by a fit of coughs.
“Are you–” I start to say before someone bumps into me, a large crowd continuing to form. My voice would have been drowned out anyway as the sound of sirens fills the street from an approaching fire truck.
I can’t think straight. I can’t process what just happened. There’s too much chaos. I make a desperate decision in my panic. I live just off campus, a few minutes’ walk from here, and mechanically my legs start taking me in that direction. In just a couple of blocks things are quieter, and soon I’m hurrying into my apartment building and running up half a flight of stairs. Thankfully my keys are in my pocket, unlike my wallet and phone which are probably already burnt to a crisp in the lab’s locker.
Letting out a shaky exhale, my throat still itching from the smoke, I shut the door to my place and lean against it for a second. I hear the siren of a police car zooming by outside, and I just stand there, breathing hard.
But the trials aren’t over. I pull my hand away from my chest and my stomach sinks at the sight of Evie’s body lying limp in my palm. She’s unconscious.
“No no no no no no,” I mutter, dropping Dr. Little’s briefcase to the floor and hurrying over to the closest surface, the kitchen counter. I gently set the shrunken girl down on it as I try to take in the state of her. She’s still breathing, her little chest rising and sinking, but clearly the smoke must have affected her more than it did me as her breath comes out hoarse. And her face is too tiny for me to be completely sure… but I swear her lips have started to turn blue.
I hover over her for a moment, tenderly pushing against her shoulder and repeating her name, trying to get her to wake up. I want to call for an ambulance, but I don’t have a phone. I curse myself then for having headed back to my apartment instead of staying with the emergency vehicles. Despite her size, surely they’d be better equipped to help her than I am. Do I go back? Is there time? Would carrying her around just make things worse?
I almost decide to run out into the hall and start yelling for help in the hopes of finding a phone when I suddenly remember something. I leave my classmate on the counter, darting into my bedroom and beelining for the closet. In the back corner I find what I’m looking for. My dad has a lung condition and he keeps a ventilator kit here for whenever he comes to visit. It’s bulky and rather annoying to hold onto, but it may be the stroke of dumb luck that I need.
Fully aware that the clock is ticking, I hurry back to the kitchen, untangling the tubes coming out of the machine. Unlike the fire extinguisher, I’ve used this thing before - never in an emergency situation like this, but I know how to get oxygen flowing. I place the device next to Evie and set the transparent cup of the face mask over her entire body. A few button presses later the machine whirrs to life and I crouch down next to the counter, observing the tiny girl with bated breath.
Her chest continues to rise and fall weakly. As oxygen is pumped onto her, slowly – agonizingly slowly – her breathing starts to smooth out again and her skin gradually regains a healthier color. She’s still out cold but, from what I can tell, she’s stabilizing. I slouch against the counter with relief.
Minutes pass. Once I’m convinced that she’s alright, I have to step away for a second. Give myself a moment to breathe. I stumble over to the sink, running a hand over my forehead. Feeling the rubbery surface of latex against my face, I frown as I remember I’m still wearing gloves. I rip them off and toss them down forcefully before I lean over the sink, arms taught and letting my head hang loose. Desperately trying not to vomit as the magnitude of everything settles onto me. I take a tremulous breath in and let it out with a tense whisper.
“Fuck.”