Ivy
Three months earlier
“You have everything you need—right? I’ll just be in the city for a few months.” I took two more dresses out of my closet, removing the hangers and folding them neatly into my luggage. I wouldn’t need a whole lot, since I could come back and retrieve whatever items I wanted at a later time. It’s not like I’d be far away, although it felt much more momentous than I was letting on.
“I’m fine, Ivy. You worry too much.” My little sister, Camellia, and I had been living together for the past five years since I moved back to Atlanta when our mother died. This would be the first time we’d been apart since I’d taken on the role of guardian. Cami had been sixteen at the time, and side by side, we’d put the pieces of our lives back together.
Even when Cami had started college, she’d chosen a place close to home so we didn’t incur the added costs of housing. But mostly, it was because we’d come to depend on one another and didn’t like being too far apart.
“You’re not moving to the North Pole. You’ll be thirty miles up the road. Hey! Maybe you’ll work with someone really famous, and we can hang out at the most premiere clubs!”
I rolled my eyes and shoved more clothes in my bag. At twenty-nine, I was past the club-hopping days, but my sister was only twenty-one, so of course she’d want to rub elbows with the rich and famous while bumping and grinding in an all too dark and crowded room. Not to mention the noise level. Yep, I was definitely getting older. But I’d learned during my time in Hollywood that the party scene was overrated.
“Why do you have to live on set, again?”
“Because Mr. Casas said it was more efficient since there would be all-nighters we’d be pulling. Instead of putting everyone up in a hotel, we’ll be staying on-site. There’s some sort of dorm-type situation they have going on. Anyway, it’s just for a few weeks. I’ll be home before you know it.”
Atlanta had become the Hollywood of the East in recent years, the movie business booming in much of the state of Georgia. When I’d moved back, I’d hoped to land my breakthrough role. Unfortunately, I was still waitressing at night to pay the bills while auditioning for two-bit parts.
That was until Lady Fortune had decided to shine down on me a couple of weeks ago when a Mr. Casas had sat down at one of my tables. He’d taken one look at me and offered me his card and an opportunity to be a part of a new series he was recruiting for. A series that could pave the way for my future. I’d auditioned last week and landed the role. It was the beginning of my dreams coming true—I could just feel it. And if not, it was time to hang up the aspirations and find something more stable.
I wanted a life, a family of my own. Pain lanced through me when I thought of family, and the one I’d almost had eleven years ago. I still mourned my baby, Zachary, as if he’d died just yesterday and not years prior. I gripped the little locket around my neck, the one my mother had given me after we’d laid him to rest. It held a picture of his tiny feet and a lock of his hair. He’d been so small and perfect. It had been hard to understand he wasn’t alive.
I’d gone in for a routine visit only to leave with the news that our precious baby no longer had a heartbeat. “Just one of those things,” the doctor had explained. Little comfort that was. Delivering a baby who wouldn’t get to come home with you afterwards is a nightmare no expectant parent wants to consider.
I pushed away the grief that still accompanied Zachary’s memory. Perhaps if Oscar had been with me when it happened, I would have dealt with the loss quite differently. It was hard to say. But Oscar hadn’t been there.
I added the remaining toiletries and jewelry to the bag and zipped everything up. When I was ready, I faced Cami and saw she already had tears in her eyes.
I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her tightly. “It’s just a few weeks.”
She laughed, wiping her eyes and resting her head on my shoulder. “I know that. This is so silly. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“You’re terribly upset you won’t get to eat my cooking anymore.”
Cami scoffed then followed with laughter. “Right. Pasta sauce from a jar is extremely hard to duplicate. Whatever shall I do?”
“Starve, of course. No one makes ragu like I do.”
The laughter faded, and we held each other tight. We had a bond that most sisters only dreamed about, especially ones who were seven years apart. Cami had only been eleven when I’d married Oscar and lost Zachary. She didn’t remember much about that time, and I knew it was because we’d sheltered her from the grief as much as we could.
“I love you.”
I kissed the top of her head and squeezed a little tighter. “I love you, too, Cami Bell.”
We pulled apart just as the app on my phone dinged to let me know my driver had arrived. “I’ll call as soon as I can, okay?” Cami nodded, still trying to stop the flow of tears. “It’s going to be great. You’ll see. And you’ll have so much fun not having me questioning your every move.”
“Yes—you’re a total bore.” Cami rolled her eyes and walked me out to the car.
“Be careful when you go out, okay?”
“Yes, Mom.” Cami meant it as a joke, but the endearment still punched me in the gut every time she said it. She had no way of knowing what it did to me. Zachary would be ten years old right now had he lived. I would have a kid about to be in middle school. It didn’t seem possible, and yet, my life would have looked a lot different had he survived.
The drive to the movie site was easy since we were traveling against traffic. In less than thirty minutes, I was standing in front of an L-shaped metal building. I double-checked the address. It didn’t look like a film set. It looked like an industrial building that had seen better days at least twenty years ago.
The movie was a medical drama with a romance thread laced throughout. I was playing Kimmy Smart, the young intern who fell in love with her attending. It was all very Grey’s Anatomy, but I was happy to have scored the role. Perhaps the inside of the building would be more impressive than the outside.
The front doors opened to a lobby with a silver, crescent-shaped front desk. A young woman with long blond hair and startling green eyes greeted me with a smile.
“Good evening. You must be Ivy Bell.”
“I am.” I smiled brightly, excited that she knew my name. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she’d recognized me on the street or anything. She was expecting me, after all. But maybe it was the hope that one day someone would recognize me while grocery shopping or dining at a restaurant.
The woman motioned to a small, white leather couch seated against a wall across the room. “Just have a seat, and Mr. Casas will be out shortly.” She murmured something into a handset, and I took my seat.
A few minutes later, Mr. Casas sauntered out from a single door behind the desk, wearing designer jeans and a short-sleeved black T-shirt. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he was intimidating all the same. His shaved, bald head and heavily tattooed body spoke of a man who ran around with gangs and drug cartels, not recruited people for movie roles. Still, he was always very pleasant when we spoke.
“Ah, Ms. Bell. It is so wonderful to see you.” He greeted me with both hands outstretched and took mine in his.
“Thank you. It’s good to be here. I’m excited to get started.” I practically bounced in anticipation, going up on my toes and wringing my hands together. I was chomping at the bit to get my career off the ground, and I could barely contain my excitement.
“Marvelous. First we have some forms we’ll need you to fill out. Then you’ll undergo some testing we require before we start filming.”
“Testing?”
“Yes, some physical fitness tests, as well as medical tests. The role can be quite strenuous, and we want to make sure everyone is healthy.”
I’d never been a part of a large production, but the smaller ones had never required such extreme testing. Perhaps it was the way all series like this were run. Who was I to question it?
I followed Mr. Casas through the inside entryway and down a long corridor lined with rooms, the left side sporting large sliding partition-style doors—three of them, to be exact—while the other side contained single metal doors to rooms. When we neared the end of the hallway, he opened a door on the right and stepped back, allowing me to enter. The room was small, cramped even. There was a single small dresser and a single bed. A side table sat next to the bed with a small lamp on it, but otherwise it was cold and discomforting. And the bed—
“Is that a hospital bed?” Chills crept up my spine as I eyed the contraption.
“Yes, it is. Very observant. Since the movie is a medical drama, we had extras and thought this was the best use of them. I know they aren’t very comfortable, but hopefully filming will be over in just a few weeks.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I was just caught off guard.” No way did I want to start my time here appearing like a diva. If they wanted us to sleep on cots, I was game. It was a small price to pay for following my dreams.
“Excellent. Please make yourself at home. I’ll be back shortly to retrieve you, and we’ll jump right in with the testing.”
“Oh, tonight? Wow, that’s great. Where is everyone else?” I hadn’t noticed any other people moving about, and the hallway was quiet. I glanced around the room—no TV, no radio. Maybe there was a common area with all of those items. I’d ask later.
“They’ll be joining you soon. Please dress comfortably in workout clothes, remove all of your jewelry, and put your personal items in this bag, and I’ll be back soon.” Mr. Casas smiled as he dropped a large ziplock bag onto the bed, then left, closing the door behind him. I unpacked my duffel and placed my clothes in the dresser before setting out my toiletries in the tiny bathroom. It was barely big enough for the toilet, shower, and sink that were forced into the minuscule space.
It felt odd that we were getting started at seven at night, but maybe this was the frenzied pace we’d be working for the upcoming weeks. I would have to get used to it, but I hoped I’d get some sleep that night. If we started filming or running lines tomorrow, I’d want to be sure I was on my A-game, and sleep was a necessary part of that.
I changed into runner’s leggings and a tank top and sat down on the edge of the bed. I never took off the locket around my neck. It was a physical reminder of Zachary’s life as well as a personal comfort to me. I held it in my hands, contemplating whether I could stomach taking it off. Finally, I unfastened the clasp and slipped it from around my neck and into the plastic bag. I hadn’t worn any other jewelry, so I zipped it up and put it on top of the dresser.
A knock sounded at the door, and I jumped. Everything was so quiet.
I opened it to find Mr. Casas standing on the other side, a friendly smile on his face.
“All set?”
I nodded and pulled the door to, wondering if I should lock it behind me. The decision was made for me when I found no lock on the inside of the door. Only the outside. Odd. I’d need to ask Mr. Casas about that. It looked like someone had put the knob on backwards.
I followed him back down the long hallway to another door that appeared to connect the L-shaped building. I blinked back my surprise at the room stretching out before me. It was like stepping into a sci-fi movie.
The lighting was bright white, almost blue in its intensity. The walls were lined with curtain-partitioned rooms, some with beds, and others with large dentist-like chairs with medical equipment and machines surrounding them.
I stopped dead in my tracks, taking in the doctors and nurses scurrying about to attend to the patients who were either on the beds or connected to medical gadgets.
“What is this place?”
“We’re very thorough to ensure our employees are all in excellent shape.”
That might have gone a long way to assuage my fears, except that several of the people in the beds and hooked up to devices didn’t appear to be in excellent shape. They looked sick.
We walked past young women and men dressed in hospital gowns—gray skin, hollow eyes, an air of desperation falling around them. It almost looked like a scene from a movie, and I wondered if that was what I was seeing? Actors playing a role?
I was too terrified to ask. The alternative was too confusing and terrible to ponder.
They were actors. For the film series. Believable characters. That was all.
Mr. Casas led me to the last curtained room at the end of the building and pulled the curtain closed. He laid out a hospital gown on the bed and then walked over to a computer.
“You can change into the gown and then have a seat on the bed. A nurse will be in shortly.”
He typed something up on the keyboard and then waited for a printer to spit out a bracelet. He motioned for my arm, and I lifted it, and he wrapped it around securely.
I glanced at the writing on the bracelet.
Ivy Bell. 29. White female. Blood type: O negative.
Mr. Casas smiled. “Welcome to The Experiment.”
The name of the series we were filming? I knew it was a medical drama, but no one had mentioned the title. It was an odd name, and I wondered when I’d get the full script. So far, I’d only had bits and pieces from the audition.
According to the email Mr. Casas had sent me, we would start filming sometime next week, and I would have the script a couple of days before to read through and memorize lines. It was a good thing I was a quick study.
After Casas left, I undressed and slipped into the gown. Medical facilities always made me nervous. Whether hospitals or just the doctor’s office, my visits were always accompanied by butterflies in my stomach and sweaty palms. I kept waiting for them to find something wrong with me, and after spending so much time with my mother in the hospital, it was a place I avoided at all costs.
A few minutes later, a man in a white coat pulled back the curtain. “Ms. Bell?”
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Khrizantema, but you can call me Dr. K.”
Khrizantema. Odd name. Russian perhaps? I shook his outstretched hand and smiled back. Dr. K had salt-and-pepper hair with a full beard, and dark-brown eyes. His bushy eyebrows made him look almost comical, but his smile was warm and friendly. He kind of reminded me of a character I’d seen in a movie once, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. A Marvel movie? An action flick? I had the feeling it was the bad guy, though, which didn’t put me at ease.
“First we will do a series of tests. A stress test for your heart. Blood tests. Do you know your blood type?”
He lifted my arm as I answered him. “Yes; they asked for it on the paperwork I filled out for the audition.” I’d thought at the time it was an odd thing to ask for, but I’d been too excited about the audition to question it much further.
“Type O negative. Very good. Let’s get started, then.”
This time when he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes, and a sense of foreboding pricked my skin.
I didn’t have any time to contemplate further as a woman in scrubs entered the room with a caddy full of vials. “Ah, just in time. Might want to lie back, Ms. Bell. We have a lot of vials to take.”
I wasn’t a fan of needles, and I tended to get dizzy when too much was taken at one time. I thought about mentioning it, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Only, a few minutes later, I wished I’d spoken up. Was there a limit on how much they could take? I wasn’t even able to donate blood, due to the crippling sickness that had accompanied it the two times I’d tried. The woman at the Red Cross had begged me never to come back after I’d passed out on her three times.
When the nurse was finished taking my blood, she bandaged my arm up.
“Thank you.” I closed my eyes against the spinning in the room. I wasn’t sure why I was thanking the vampire for sucking all my blood out. Knee-jerk reaction, I guessed.
She didn’t say a word as she turned and left, and I lay as still as I could, pinching my eyelids together tightly to keep the dizziness at bay. Nausea climbed up the back of my throat, but I was grateful I was lying down.
Dr. K entered the little curtained-off space and peered down at me. “What is wrong with her?” He yelled the question over his shoulder as the nurse came rushing back in.
“She was fine when I left.”
I hadn’t been, but it was good to know I’d put up a good front.
“Get her some juice. Ivy, what is wrong?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. “I don’t do well with needles and blood loss. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
Dr. K’s face registered relief. “Get her some juice and a few cookies.”
The nurse returned moments later with orange juice and a couple of gingersnaps. They weren’t my favorite, and terrible together, but the sugar had the intended effect of perking me up a bit. After about fifteen minutes of resting, I was back to normal, although a little tired from the ordeal.
“We will put off the stress test till tomorrow. Go back and get some sleep.” Dr. K motioned for an orderly to help me to my room, and I fell onto the bed in exhaustion. I was a little embarrassed at how I’d reacted to having my blood drawn, but it wasn’t a reaction I could control.
When I woke the next morning, I showered and went to my drawers to retrieve my clothes, only to find them replaced with hospital gowns and a few pairs of underwear. I double-checked all the drawers and didn’t find them. That was when I noticed that the bag with my locket was missing as well as my phone and wallet.
I searched the tiny room for any indications of where they might have put it, but the room was empty of everything I’d brought save for a few of my toiletries. Glancing around the bathroom, I discovered all of my makeup was gone as well. All that remained was my soap, shampoo and conditioner, and toothbrush and toothpaste. Even my razor was missing.
Hurriedly, I dressed in a hospital gown and wrapped it tightly around my body. A chill that had very little to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with my growing unease rippled across my skin. Something wasn’t right.
A knock sounded at the door, and I whipped it open, ready to fight for my things back. Two large men stood at the door, their faces hard, set into angry glares.
“Where—where are my things?” I tried to sound more confident than I felt. The two men didn’t answer; they just grabbed me by the arms and practically dragged me back through the corridor to the large open building where I’d been yesterday.
The whole day I asked questions, begged people to tell me what was going on. I ran on a treadmill until I almost passed out, was poked and prodded until I was green in the face, and finally hooked up to an IV port.
By the end of the day, no one would explain where I was or what was going on, but two things were crystal clear.
There was no movie.
They had no intention of letting me go home.