As the group settled back into their seats, the tension in the room was palpable. Man 1 spoke up first, his voice tinged with regret. "Maybe we should have listened to Dr. Rega. Our lives are in their hands, after all."
The woman nodded in agreement. "Yes, we can't afford to anger the company. They've kept us alive all this time. We should trust their judgment."
Man 3, however, remained calm. "Let's not jump to conclusions. The company wouldn't want us dead. There must be a reason they've kept us here for so long, a reason we may not yet understand."
Rio listened intently from his hiding spot behind the curtain, his heart pounding in his chest. These people held the key to unlocking the mystery of their existence, and he needed to gain their trust to uncover the truth.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the occasional sip of whiskey. Rio, still hidden behind the curtain.
Man 1 leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink thoughtfully. "Do you really think this guy can help us?"
Man 3 nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the flames. "He's our best shot right now. We can't afford to turn away any potential allies."
The woman, her voice laced with skepticism, chimed in. "But what if he's working for the company? What if this is all a trap?"
Man 3 shook his head. "I don't think so. He seemed genuinely surprised by Dr. Rega's visit. And besides, if he wanted to turn us in, he could have done it already."
Man 1 grunted in agreement. "True enough. Alright, we'll give him a chance. But if he betrays us, he'll regret it."
With their decision made, the group settled in for the night, the glow of the fire casting dancing shadows on the walls. Man 3 volunteered to take the first watch, ensuring that Rio wouldn't try anything foolish.
The chairs scraped against the wooden floor, creating a grating sound that echoed in the dimly lit room. The clinking of glasses and the occasional thud of the bottle being set down punctuated their movements.
With a collective sigh, they pushed back their chairs and rose from the table, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the crackling of the fire. The room grew quieter as they dispersed, the only remaining noise the gentle flicker of the flames and the settling of the old cottage.
Rio, still concealed behind the curtain, listened intently as their footsteps faded away, leaving him alone in the eerie silence of the night.
As Rio peered out from behind the curtain, the sudden light from the fireplace jabbed painfully into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his vision to the sudden brightness.
When his sight finally cleared, he saw Man 3 sitting calmly in a chair, a glass of whiskey in his hands. The flickering flames cast shadows across his face, making his expression inscrutable. Rio knew this man held the key to his fate tonight.
Man 3 took a slow sip of whiskey, his gaze fixed on Rio. "You must have many questions," he said, his voice low and steady.
Rio nodded, cautiously stepping out from behind the curtain. "I do. I want to understand what's happening here. Why you're all here, in this time, and why you're so afraid of Dr. Rega and this company."
Man 3 studied Rio for a moment, then gestured for him to sit in a chair opposite him. "It's a long story," he began, his tone somber. "We were passengers on a flight, just like any other. But something went wrong, and we found ourselves here, three hundred years into the future."
Rio listened intently as Man 3 recounted their journey, explaining how they had been kept alive by the company, PharmaMedicor, but at a cost. They were forced to undergo transformations, their bodies altered to adapt to the new era.
"We're like experiments to them," Man 3 continued. "They study us, use us for their own purposes. And anyone who tries to defy them... well, they disappear."
Rio's mind raced with the implications of what he was hearing. These people were prisoners, trapped in a future they didn't belong to, at the mercy of a powerful corporation.
Rio noticed a subtle shift in Man 3's demeanor, a glint in his eyes that hinted at a deeper understanding of their situation. While the others blindly trusted the company, Man 3 seemed to harbor doubts. This divergence in beliefs presented an opportunity for Rio.
If he could align himself with Man 3, perhaps they could work together to uncover the truth behind their predicament. Rio knew he needed to tread carefully, as revealing too much could jeopardize his plan.
Rio realized he needed to gain Man 3's trust, starting with revealing his true identity.
Rio knew he had to tread carefully. "I'm not Mr. Kagiso's house staff," he confessed, his voice steady despite the nerves churning inside him. He watched Man 3 closely, trying to gauge his reaction.
To his surprise, Man 3 didn't seem shocked. Instead, he gave Rio a knowing smile. "I know," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a hint of intrigue. Rio felt a surge of curiosity.
Man 3's smile deepened, and he gestured for Rio to sit.
Rio settled into a chair opposite Man 3, his eyes never leaving the man's face. "Who are you people?" Rio asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "Why were you brought here?"
Man 3 leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass thoughtfully. "We did not choose this," he began, his voice low, as if he was about to reveal a long-kept secret. "We're the remnants of a time long gone, brought here by forces we can't comprehend."
Rio's eyes widened. "Time travel?" he ventured, his mind racing with the possibilities.
Man 3 chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth. "Something like that," he said cryptically. "Nobody knows if the accident was intentional or unintentional."
Man 3 took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes distant as he recounted his story. "I was a businessman," he began. "I took the flight for a business trip. SkyVista Airways was one of the biggest airlines in the country at the time."
He paused, a hint of regret in his voice. "When I bought the ticket, I knew about the airline's notorious history of disappearances at a specific coordinate on the 9th of January and February that year. But my flight was scheduled for March, and I didn't believe in such superstitions. Besides, the ticket was cheap, so I decided to go for it."
Rio listened intently, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. "So, you were on the flight that disappeared?"
Man 3 nodded. "Yes, along with the others in our group. We were just ordinary passengers, unaware of the fate that awaited us."
Man 3 leaned forward, his eyes distant as he recalled the day he boarded the plane. "It was a typical day," he began, his voice carrying the weight of memories. "The flight was scheduled for 12 pm. I remember feeling a strange sense of excitement as I boarded, despite the rumours surrounding the missing flights."
Rio listened intently, sensing the gravity of the story unfolding. "What was the atmosphere like on the plane?" he asked, curious about the events leading up to their mysterious arrival in this time.
Man 3's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It was lively, as one would expect," he replied. "Passengers were chatting, some nervously joking about the infamous coordinates we were flying over. I remember a group of young travelers, full of life and laughter."
Man 3's expression turned somber as he continued. "I was sipping on my champagne, trying to calm my nerves, when suddenly, there was a strange sensation. It felt like the plane was being pulled in a different direction, a force tugging at it from another dimension."
Rio leaned in, intrigued. "What do you mean, another dimension?"
"It's hard to explain," Man 3 replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It was as if reality itself was warping around us. The air grew thick, and there was a deafening sound, like a high-pitched whine. Then, everything went black."
Man 3 recounted the surreal experience of floating on pieces of wrecked aircraft in the vast sea. "Our bodies felt detached, as if they were not truly ours," he explained. "Days and nights blurred together, and I lost track of time. Eventually, we drifted to an island, though I couldn't say how many days had passed. Strangely, we had no need for food or drink."
Rio listened intently, the story painting a picture of a journey that defied logic and reason. "And what happened when you reached the island?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Man 3's eyes glistened with a mix of sadness and wonder. "When we reached the island, we found others like us, survivors from different flights that had disappeared over the years," he said. "Somehow, we had all been transported to this strange new world, with no way of returning to our old lives."
Rio's mind raced with questions. "How did you survive on the island? And how did you end up here, in this time?" he asked, eager to unravel the mystery further.
Man 3's voice quivered as he recounted their ordeal. "Dr. Rega gathered us at a campsite, explaining that he found us on the island. He assured us he'd take care of us, as our bodies weren't accustomed to this new world's air and radiation. He promised to help us transform our bodies to survive here."
He paused, his eyes distant. "But it wasn't easy. I learned that not everyone from our flights survived. Some were lost... forever." His voice trailed off, the weight of their loss palpable in the air.
"We were given tents for shelter, and our days were filled with endless blood draws and medications. I spent most of my time in my tent, unable to engage with others. It was a lonely existence, disconnected from everything I once knew."
Man 3 continued, his voice growing stronger as he recounted the events. "We were like ghosts, haunting the edges of this new world. Dr. Rega became our guide, our keeper, but also our jailer. He controlled our every move, our every thought, under the guise of helping us adapt."
He took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes distant. "I don't know how long we were there, lost in that strange limbo. Time seemed to lose its meaning, days blending into nights, seasons passing without notice. All I knew was the routine of tests, medications, and the endless waiting for something, anything, to change."
Man 3 leaned forward, his eyes distant as he recounted the island's routine. "Every month, like clockwork, a new group of passengers would arrive," he began, his voice tinged with resignation. "They were brought to the campsite to join us. And with them came a few Synthetiks, brought in to expand our living quarters."
He paused, taking a sip of his whiskey before continuing. "But to be honest, I could barely register their arrival. It felt like I was constantly sedated, as if I was sleepwalking through my days on the island."
Man 3 leaned forward, his voice lowered as he spoke. "After a while on the island, we were brought here by some kind of air transport. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Since then, we've been here, in this place." His eyes darted around the room, as if reliving the memory. "It was a strange experience, to say the least."
Man 3's eyes reflected the flickering firelight. "Dr. Rega," he began, "he's the one who keeps us in check. Checks our blood, gives us meds. Says it's all to help us adapt." He paused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "But it's more than that. Whenever he gives us those injections, our urges to leave, to see the world, they just... vanish."
Rio's brow furrowed in curiosity. "Why would he do that? Keep you here against your will?"
Man 3 shrugged, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Who knows? Maybe he thinks he's protecting us. Or maybe there's something out there he doesn't want us to see."