Caged with the Wolf

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

Paige blew out a breath, still reeling from the week. In the span of under ten days, she’d gone from rock bottom to…whatever this was.

She wasn’t unemployed anymore, that much she knew. She was now a proud employee of the US Government – or, at least, an Independent Contractor hired as a consultant for an independent research company that was employed by the US Government.

And she wasn’t so sure about the ‘proud’ part of that, either.

She still didn’t know exactly what she’d be doing during her time here in the frozen North. After a lengthy phone interview, a several day-long starting process, and a whiplash-inducing relocation, she knew that she was here to ‘aid a confidential research effort with her consultative expertise.’

If she ever got through this surprisingly thorough – intrusive – intake examination, she might get some real answers.

“I don’t remember,” she answered. “I’ve always had irregular periods.”

“Have you had sex within the last thirty days?”

Paige blinked. “Yes?”

Her examiner handed her a blank form attached to a clipboard. “I need you to sign here to consent to have your hCG and luteinizing hormone levels checked and monitored.”

Paige sort of understood why they’d want to give her a pregnancy test. Sort of. But the other part….

“Luteinizing hormone? Like for ovulation?” She exclaimed, her spine going ramrod straight. “Why on earth would you need to know that, let alone keep track of it?”

“Standard operating procedure.” Her examiner shrugged. “You understand.”

Except she didn’t.

This was an orientation, not her yearly physical. This had, by far, been the strangest first day of work she’d ever had, and it wasn’t even noon. She’d already been poked and prodded and signed documents she’d barely been given enough time to skim.

Her phone had been confiscated and replaced with a burner that didn’t have access to the internet and – she was almost completely certain – was probably being tracked. Every time she’d asked for clarification or an explanation, she was fed the same spiel about ‘classified information’ this, and ‘government protocol’ that.

And then came the endless day of tests. The drug test, she’d expected. The physical and fitness tests were weird, but she’d heard of employers taking all kinds of extra precautions to make sure employees were fit to spend an extended period of time in Alaska.

But the blood tests were strange in a way that she couldn’t explain away.

And tracking her cycle was downright too much information.

Paige already knew enough that she’d never receive an explanation for any of it.

Everyone she’d seen so far had a nametag sporting the Department of Homeland Security’s logo, and that was the same agency she’d been told she was going to be working for after she’d responded to that stupid job listing.

It went against her better nature to just shrug off red flags like this. One of her favorite mottos was, ‘Desperation is an inevitability. Dumb is a choice.’ She should call the whole thing off, tell them to shred her contract, and shove it.

But the money.

Three hundred thousand dollars.

Enough to cover her father’s treatment and then some. Three months of work in exchange for feeling secure again.

“Hey.”

Paige looked up from the form to see her examiner – Dr. Scott, by his nametag – looking at her with the first bit of warmth she’d experienced since coming to Alaska.

“I know this is a lot, and I’m going to be honest, you’re not going to get some of the answers you’re looking for,” he said with a wry smile. “Occupational hazard of working for the government. I can tell you that everyone goes through a similar process

“What is here?” She insisted.

“That, I’m not authorized to say,” he quipped. “Gov–”

“Government protocol, yes. So people keep saying.”

“Everything you need to know; Director Wen will tell you.” He reached over and placed a clear plastic cup on the table beside her, “Just as soon as I get those test results back.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Congratulations, you’re not pregnant!”

Paige threw Dr. Scott a sardonic smile. “What a relief.”

“Although, you will start ovulating in a couple of weeks.”

“There you go, hitting me with bad news,” she said, drawing a chuckle from the softspoken physician. “I’m surprised you were even allowed to tell me that.”

“Well, no one explicitly told me not to, so….” He gave her a wink. “This can be our secret.”

Paige could almost feel herself begin to relax around Dr. Scott’s easygoing demeanor, and she liked that he wasn’t above breaking a few rules when the right loophole revealed itself.

“Look, Dr. Scott–”

“Jared. Please. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next few months.”

“Okay, Jared. Can I ask you to level with me?” She saw him start to clam up and raised her hands placatingly. “I know you already said about being on a mandatory need-to-know basis, but surely there’s something you can give me a head’s up on. What are the working conditions like? Is everyone friendly or just you? Cause right now, it seems like just you.”

Jared looked exasperated. Torn. “Seriously, I don’t know much,” he finally admitted. “I’ll tell you that we were studying the generational effects of the moon’s gravitational pull on Natives until about a week ago. We got new orders, and the entire operation changed overnight. I’m still on a need-to-know basis myself.”

Suspicion was beginning to give way to morbid curiosity. She’d always had an inquisitive disposition – teachers called her precocious. Her dad had called it being nosy. Either way, she had a knack for sniffing out a mystery and latching onto it. When it kept landing her into trouble, she’d finally decided to make a career out of it.

Whatever this whacked operation was, it had loose threads to pick at, and Paige was itching to unravel them.

“One more thing,” Jared interjected. “Director Wen, she’s new here. Only arrived a few days ago. I’d be careful around her if I were you.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t seem like the type who likes questions.”

Like the devil come knocking, there was a tap on the examination room door just before it swung open without waiting for a reply. A tall, svelte woman walked in. She was beautiful in a severe way – all harsh lines and smooth plains, hair pulled back in a tight bun.

“Dr. Torres. I’m Dr. Wen, the lead Director of Project Far Side. I’m pleased to finally meet your acquaintance.” She didn’t sound pleased, but when she stretched out a hand, Paige shook it.

Project Far Side.

It was the first title she’d been able to put to her new job. It sounded mysterious. Important.

And, if she’d been offered that much, hopefully, more answers would follow.

“It’s nice to meet you, Director Wen.”

The woman nodded, looking mollified like she’d just checked a task from her list. She turned abruptly on her heel and began striding from the room.

“Now that pleasantries are out of the way, I’d like you to follow me. It’s time to get started.”

Paige tottered after her, throwing a quick parting wave to Jared as she sped after the Director.

“As you know, you’ve been brought in to lend your expertise on a matter of special interest to the United States government, correct?” Her speech was measured and clipped. The way someone spoke because they had to, not because they wanted to.

“I suppose.”

“You sound unsure.” It wasn’t a question.

Paige thought of Jared’s warning and promptly decided it didn’t work for her. “I can’t say that you’ve all been very forthcoming with information since I’ve been here. I’m not exactly what I’m doing here, to be frank.”

Wen whirled on her.

“Let me make one thing clear to you, Dr. Torres. What happens within this facility goes beyond paltry concerns, the insufferable insistence on inalienable rights,” she stated. “This isn’t the LAPD. You’re in the Deep State now, and we do not suffer detractors or deserters. If you don’t think that you can handle that, you may need to reassess your motivations for being here.”

Well, okay then. Paige didn’t need a degree to pick up on the fact that a gauntlet had just been thrown, and refusing to pick it up would mean her father’s life.

She’d known that, of course. It was her motivation for being here in the first place.

She just hadn’t realized it was leverage. To keep her here. Or to keep me quiet.

Regardless, Paige had been thoroughly shown to her place.

“Of course, Director.”

The woman nodded and continued forward.

Paige silently followed her through a series of non-descript hallways until they reached an elevator. Once inside, Director Wen inserted a physical key and turned it. Without pressing a button, the elevator began to rise.

She didn’t know why it surprised her that they were going up. All of this clandestine bullshit just seemed like an underground thing.

But up they went, until finally coming to a stop at what had to be the top floor.

“Since you’ll be spending a majority of your time up here, you’ll be receiving a key to the elevator soon,” the Director advised, leading her into a small square lobby with thick metal double doors on each far wall. “Offices are in the right wing.”

They turned left.

The wing beyond looked much more like what she would have expected for a research facility, filled with white walls and rooms with large mirrors looking into them. Inside, people in white lab coats were busy at work, not looking the least bit concerned about the weird-ass organization they worked for.

“Can I ask where we’re headed?” Paige asked.

They came to another set of double doors at the end of the hallway and, with a scan of the Director’s badge, passed through. On the other side, the facilities were much more contained, with only a security office facing a single, central observation room.

“This,” The Director began, leading her up to the observation room window. “Is Project Far Side.”

Every hair on Paige’s stood at attention when she looked inside. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what she found.

A man.

“Oh.”

Paige didn’t need to look to feel Director Wen’s dark eyes staring her down like a hawk, waiting to see the exact moment she cracked under pressure. “Is everything alright, Dr. Torres?”

“Yes.”

No.

Paige was suddenly very aware that she was out of her depth. She’d already thought that was the case, but no – she’d been feeling out of her comfort zone. Which, for her, was saying a lot.

It went without saying, but she spent a fair bit more time around violent criminals than most – she was no stranger to the nitty-gritty of institutional incarceration. Paige couldn’t place her finger on it, but this wasn’t that.

For one, she was accustomed to having patients. Sometimes clients.

The whiteboard near the observation room here read, Subject Alpha.

Subject.

She hated that shit on a couple different levels.