Taken

Chapter 17: Out of the Frying Pan...

I didn't bother with trying to lift my head in aknowledgment as the chime of an I.D. being successfully swiped in front of a keypad, followed by the grating sound of an alarm sounding as the red light flashed above the seemingly blast-resistant door as it slowly slid open. The scientists that were 'escorting' me didn't even bother with waiting patiently for the door to open completely. Once there was a opening large enough to fit my cage through, the scientists did so; even if that meant they all had to proceed in single file behind my cage as it was pushed into my new home.

As soon as the last scientist had entered, the door began to slide closed behind them. If I had the energy, I would've sat up and looked over my shoulder at the door with a depressing sense of finality as I was now permanently sealed in my new home that was God-only-knew how large. At least this place doesn't seem half bad... so far. I thought as I strained my eyes against the bright, artificial light that bathed the area in front of the door that we had just come through in a blanket of harsh, red light that stretched on for about a hundred feet in each direction. Beyond the red light-bathed patch of earth where we were currently gathered, I could make out the dark sillouettes of towering, lush, evergreen trees. It was mostly unsettlingly silent; aside from the occasional screeching of a Great Grey Owl off in the distance, the gentle bubbling of a nearby river that sounded like it was partly frozen over, and the muffled sound of snowfall; all of which added to the eerie ambience of what was presumably the Boreal Forest section of the Biodomes where I was to be released. I wondered briefly how snow was able to fall (and "stick") in an enclosed space before I recalled what Alasdair had told me about the Biodomes being climate-controlled to match the current season in the Northern Hemisphere (or Southern Hemisphere for the Rainforest section).

"Let's get this over with." A gruff voice commented after a moment of silence had swept through the group of assembled scientists. "I really don't want to risk running into a Silver Cat. I've also got a shit ton of paperwork to get back to."

"Or a Saber Wolf." A female scientist added on. "I would like to have a good long conversation with whoever thought that it was a good idea to create over-sized, saber-toothed wolves and 300 pound arboreal felines with long, flexible, clubbed tails."

"Yeah, and let's not forget the Snake-Headed Dogs and the Howlers." A new individual chimed in.

"Yeah, fuck those god damn Howlers." I heard Miller mutter quietly with a sense of disgust.

"That would be Task Force Sigma; under the code name 'Pet Shop'." A different voice stated flatly. "Any complaints should be taken up with their Heads of Command."

"Dealing with Bull and Frostbite? No thank you! I heard that pair's bite is far worse than their bark."

"I've heard that Frostbite is the nastier and more cruel of the two."

"I still want to know what Bull and Frostbite's actual names are..."

"Hah, I'm sure that you're not the only one. It's widely believed that only Boss knows their real names."

"Watch it be something really fucking generic like 'John', 'Maxwell', 'Jack', or 'William' for Bull and 'Anna', 'Sarah', 'Caroline', or 'Kate' for Frostbite."

"Seriously." The same gruff male voice from before snapped rather impatiently. "The sooner we dump our cargo, the sooner we don't have to worry about watching our asses like a herd of some damn pathetic prey animals."

A few "Agreed"'s floated up from the assembled group before I felt my cage start to move again. While the ground directly around the door was packed smooth and free of vegetation and pebbles from the constant foot traffic of numerous researchers over the years, the earth beyond the red light was not. Despite the shining flashlights that each of the scientists held out in front of them, we still ran into a minor hiccup. I was painfully jostled as one of the wheels of my cage got briefly caught up in a small, unseen divot in the snow-covered ground.