Invisible Threads

by Michael Hyslip

  “What is wrong with you?” I really didn’t know what else to say. The situation was so far out of my control that I was lost. I hoped this was another nightmare and I would wake up soon.

  “Wrong with me? I’m the one in control here. I think that’s the exact place anyone would want to be.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, so I started asking questions. What did I have to lose at that point? “What is the IASP, exactly? Do you work for them?”

  “Work for them?” he scoffed. “I own it. Twice now I’ve built a company to handle research like this, and this one will not repeat those mistakes.” He looked down at the tablet. “There we go. Now, I am going to ask some questions, and you are going to answer me. Truthfully.”

  Dignity. Such a nice thing. I wonder how long I will have it.

  “First, are you the one referred to as the Ghost?”

  “Pancakes.”

  I tried to give an answer that wouldn’t register as true or false and was a bit smug, thinking I could undermine his entire plan.

  “That would be true, then. Interesting. Next, did you steal items from Gerald Foulker at his club? Ahh, that would also be yes. Don’t you just love technology?”

  So he could tell what was true even if I didn’t answer? Oh, this was so not fair. My only defense might be to refuse to answer any question that didn’t require a yes or no answer. The reply may be true or false, but I’d actually have to reply first.

  “Wait, what? Why would that even matter? Foulker was just some idiot wanna-be mafia fake, running a club and pretending to be a big shot.”

  “Oh, the flash drive was mine, along with some papers. Stolen, and I wasn’t sure by whom until Matroni contacted me about some sensitive information he had about my projects. Fortunately, his mind for business understood that it would be more profitable in the long term to get my research off the ground. Foulker was shortsighted, only interested in exploiting the here and now. Can you just imagine the nanobots extracting all kinds of secrets from high-level government workers or politicians? Codes to submarine access with nuclear missiles on board? No need to use them, though; power keeps power in check, and power is what anything is worth striving for.”

  Some of this made sense, but my head was spinning. Was this research related to my abilities? I didn’t want to volunteer any information he didn’t have. I tried to calm myself and buy some time while I either found an opening or could gather more intel.

  “So Matroni didn’t know the information was yours?”

  “Oh, he knew, but he had no leverage until he’d acquired it. This little Q&A session is for his benefit as well as yours, to understand the scope of what I can do.”

  Bryson looked at me. “Enough questions from you, but did you make a backup copy of that drive?”

  It finally clicked: he needed that data and didn’t know where Matroni kept his flash drive or couldn’t afford to make copies. And he couldn’t make a move against him without some serious leverage or a perfected group of nanobots to control Matroni and force an answer.

  “Hmm, so it seems you did. Where is it?”

  I couldn’t answer because I would be killed if I did. If Matroni was sure I had made a copy, he would torture me to get to it and kill me to make sure Bryson didn’t get his hands on it. It wasn’t a simple yes-or-no question, so the nanobots wouldn’t show whether or not I was lying.

  “Well, it seems you need some persuasion.”

  He tapped something on his tablet, and I felt an incredible pain. As I gasped, my stomach threatened to empty itself. The muscles across my entire body spasmed, but then settling as he moved his hand away. I gasped for air, fighting pure panic that I would shield in a response to terror, and this sociopath was someone who certainly didn’t need to witness it. I breathed deeply, my eyes wide open.

  He looked at me like a predator, “Answer! I want you to realize that these nanobots will force you to stay conscious and endure the pain.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to prepare for another onslaught, though faith in my ability to withstand was fleeting.

  He sighed, again resorting to the tablet. Pain exploded again through my body, each muscle contracting tightly. It escalated, and then in a moment started to recede until I only felt slightly dizzy—uncomfortable, but no longer in dire pain.

  He frowned and tapped again. I felt an internal pressure that again quickly released, and I was clearheaded. Very clearheaded, in fact; most of my grogginess had washed away. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I doubted it was intentional.

  “No! How in the world? Never mind, this is why I test. Obviously, some bugs need to be worked out since the nanobots aren’t holding their programming. Who do you work for?”

  “What are you talking about? I work for myself.”

  He muttered to himself, “Well you’re telling the truth, or at least you believe what you’re saying.” He stepped forward, regarding me more acutely. Glancing back at his tablet, he exhibited some growing concern. He looked back at me and said, “Wait…you were there. At the end, before I….came here. But that’s impossible. How did you get here? How did you find me?”

  I looked at him, the lab coat, the connection to IASP and my dreams and said, “ASP Systems, Inc… that was you, wasn’t it? I don’t remember much, but my dreams, small moments I can remember.”

  The statement obviously shocked him. He looked back at the device in his hands. “This other signature of nanobots in you, it was from a batch created there. But everything there was destroyed. How could you have possibly found me?”

  I ignored his question, unsure about what to ask without giving anything away.

  He continued to tap at the screen, growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of response. I couldn’t mention the coma or other incidents, as it would give him the ability to track me. I needed to keep any information to myself for as long as possible to have any hope of survival, assuming I could even make it out of here. An idea began to form, but I wasn’t sure it would work.

  Bryson gave me one last look, headed out the door, and flipped the light switch. Mmmm, it sounded as if the nanobots in me were reprogramming themselves and he didn’t like it. And there was another signature of them? That didn’t make any sense at all, but he seemed to be losing control. Maybe that was important information…

  I carefully looked around in the dimness and could not see any cameras. I heard a radio chirp outside every once in a while, so at least one guard was posted. There was a tiny window boarded up from the outside, but it was too small to fit through. Well, since there were no cameras, I needed to start working on a way to get out of here.

  I looked down at my hands and shielded. Sure enough, they went invisible. At least that much worked in my favor. Now to determine how to use it. I took a deep breath, hoped this would work, and shielded all of me. I didn’t want to shield the handcuff, and it was visible even as I thought about it. It looked like it was floating in the air, so I set my hand on the cot. I pulled my knees to my chest and then hit the wall with my left fist.

  A moment later, the door opened, and the guard stepped inside with one hand resting on his pistol, the other hitting the light switch as he walked toward the tiny bed.

  “Knock it off…. Oh crap!” He grabbed his radio and announced, “This is Fire Watch; Brig Rat has escaped! I repeat, Brig Rat is MIA.”

  He was standing right next to me at this point, so I shot my leg out as hard as possible. It connected to the guard’s pelvic bone, and I felt something pop. His autonomic nervous response kicked in as his mouth dropped open: his hands immediately went to the crotch to prevent further injury, and he curled into a bent position, which brought his head closer to me. I took my free arm and, reaching both behind his head and chin, twisted hard, and pulled him closer still. I wrapped my forearm across his face, clamping his mouth and nose closed. His stomach had just started expunging itself, due to the groin injury, but I had the exits clamped shut. He jerked as his stomach contents dumped
into his lungs, and I knew the pelvic strike had to be hurting like crazy. He started trying to reach back, frantically clawing, but I hung on and squeezed harder. Finally, after a few hard jerks, his body went limp. Even if he were only temporarily passed out, there was no way he could breathe with bile and acid in the lungs.

  I quickly went through his belt and almost yelled in joy when I found a key ring with the handcuff key. I removed the carabiner of keys and unlocked the shackle on my wrist, finally free. I then removed the entire belt and holster and watched it also become invisible, but I didn’t have time to put it on because shouting and pounding feet were headed in my direction. I stepped back from the body and into the farthest corner from the door. The body was between me and the exit, but I would also have the least chance of being discovered. It was crucial they believed I had escaped.

  Two figures quickly entered the trailer, one dropping low and giving them both the ability to fire their weapons without interference. Both had flashlights activated on rifles, but that meant nothing to me. I dropped my eyes further into invisibility to keep from being blinded by the lights. I could barely see their hand signals, but one exited and radioed confirmation of an immediate full lockdown. The remaining guard checked the pulse of the one I left on the floor, then left with an angry scowl.

  I could now breathe a little easier and hoped they would search elsewhere. Then nearby soldiers became quiet as I heard Matroni yelling at with the top of his lungs. It made me smile, but my business with him was unfinished since he knew my face. Doctor Malcolm Bryson was on my list now, too, after injecting me with God knows what and attempting to torture me for information. I needed answers from him as well. First things first, though. I slowly pulled the gun belt around me, secured it, and slid the keys into one of my pockets. I didn’t want them making any noise.

  As I carefully got to the doorway, I was thankful it was stuck open, and I could squeeze through. I saw a furious Pete heading toward the trailer, probably to make sure the men weren’t a bunch of idiots and that I truly was gone. As he stomped inside, it didn’t take long before he began screaming incoherently and kicking the wall, the cot, and probably the dead soldier, as well. By then, I was at the edge of the small building and saw the other trailer whose door was also left open, so I stepped inside. I was alone, and a brief look through blueprints and other papers showed nothing that I didn’t already know. My phone was still on the table and plugged into a laptop, so I picked it up quickly and removed the cable. It looked like they had been trying to hack into it, but on the plus side, it was fully charged. I pocketed it and made my way out of the trailer and warehouse building, dodging patrols as the anthill crawled with futile activity. There was a light haze just beginning on the horizon, but still enough darkness left to aid my escape.

  I saw Pete Matroni exit the warehouse building and walk briskly in the direction of a golf cart racing toward him. I could see angry hand motions and then noticed Bryson was in the passenger seat. I watched them argue, then Bryson pointed at the tablet in his hand and shook his head. Matroni was furious and stormed away. I suspected that meant I couldn’t be tracked, but that might change if I got too close to the equipment the good ol’ doctor constantly tinkered with.

  I headed the other way, toward the back section of the construction area, knowing there was no way to get through the front gate. They were in total lockdown mode. I had to find a way over the fence, and that razor wire at the top didn’t look inviting. There were a few large construction vehicles, and each was guarded by at least two guards plus the groups of soldiers and dogs spread all over. If I made it into a bulldozer, dump truck, or anything else they would know it was me. They may be big and powerful, but they were slow machines.

  Near one of the lines of port-a-Johns sat a mix of Hummers and Jeeps. Perfect. If I could get to any of them and find keys, then my luck might turn in a big way. It was about seventy-five yards, and I made it quickly, slowing down to check out the surroundings. Two guards were talking to each other, both with rifles on a sling and hands across them in a semi-ready manner. I tried to figure out how to take them both out at once quietly or distract them.

  I could smell some smoke and saw some lights in a nearby tent, which must be their mess hall that was starting breakfast, and a large, unattended charcoal grill, still very, very hot. Yes, this will work. I pulled the pistol from my holster, ejected the magazine, and stripped three rounds from the top. I reinserted the mag, double-checked that a round was chambered, then reholstered. I got up to the grill and dropped the rounds into the hottest area. I ran back to the port-a-Johns and vehicles and didn’t have to wait long.

  Without a barrel to focus the explosion of ammunition, the grill became a large, loud firecracker, and I got the intended response. One round went off quicker and sent a puff of ashes into the air. Immediately, everyone converged on the sound, and two more quick shots caused them to drop and search for a target.

  One of the guards at the vehicles headed toward the sound, the other stayed behind to watch. I snuck up behind him and effectively used the butt of my invisible pistol; he dropped. I dragged the body between a few vehicles, then searched and finally found a key for the Jeep. I started it, dropped into first gear, and aimed toward the nearest fenced area. I sped up, hit it and tangled up a huge section of fence in the wheels. The damage was done, though: I’d created a way through the fence and alerted the horde of angry soldiers to my location.

  The Jeep had moved about ten yards through the fence before coming to a stop, as if the fence were a giant hand that slowly dragged it to a halt. I ducked as bullets started landing closer, bouncing off the dirt and the back of the Jeep. Moving quickly, I slid across to the passenger side, which was now facing the large hole I’d created. I pushed the door open and rolled as I hit the ground, pushing with everything in me to get some distance. As long as I stayed low and moved fast, I wasn’t in much danger of stray bullets, and they eventually stopped. I noticed a headache starting yet again, the bane of everything fun I wanted to do.

  Two Hummers slammed into a halt next to the Jeep, men jumping out and surrounding it with precision. It was obvious I was no longer inside, but as I was shielded there was no visible target. The morning sky had lightened enough that I couldn’t just sprint away: either the dust I’d kick up or sounds of running could give me away. So I slowly walked in the general direction of the bar where I had parked, then ran when I was able and before the dogs could track me by scent. It seemed like days ago, but it had been less than twelve hours since I’d parked.

  While running, I pulled the battery from the phone. I seriously doubted any data had been successfully pulled from it, but there could easily have been a GPS transmitter inserted or anything similar. I doubted that also, since they didn’t think I or my phone could leave the compound, but no reason to take a chance. I offloaded the phone battery into a dumpster, then crushed the phone underfoot and tossed it into another one.

  I remained shielded and saw a Jeep full of mercenaries drive past me. Even if I got to my car, these guys would recognize my face. The bandage on my arm would be even more recognizable, so I removed it since it was itching anyway. As I unwrapped the last strip of cotton, I unshielded my forearm for a moment and could see the remnants of blood there; while there were definite wounds, they weren’t deep. In fact, I had a lot of fresh skin, and I knew those dogs had made far more damage, leaving me perplexed. No one healed this fast. It had to be those nanobots inside me. Shielding myself again, I noticed that my headache from all my shielded movement was much less than expected. A bonus.

  Shrugging and adding it to my long list of perplexing things, I dropped the bandages among other trash along the road I was now on. I only had about a quarter mile to my car, so I sped up a bit. I occasionally saw someone searching for me; the rest were just people on their way to work at 7:30 a.m. The busier it got, the easier I would be able to slip into the flow of traffic and get home as long as I didn’t get run over. I was exhaust
ed, starving, and desperately needed time to plan ahead.

  I got to my car without event and found my keys unmolested in the pile of junk I’d hidden them in earlier. I knew this would be one of the more difficult parts because I had to unshield myself in order to drive. I took a quick look at myself: my bandage was gone, but I still wore the same clothes, which had bloodstains on them.

  Walking around the bar, which was now closed, I poked through the dumpster, looking for any clothes someone tossed out. No such luck, but a few bottles with alcohol left in them came in handy. I removed my shirt and ripped away the bloodied sections. I poured the contents of the bottles on the clean part and wiped down my face, neck, and arm. I tossed the shirt fragments into the dumpster and would have to drive without one, hoping I didn’t get pulled over while smelling like I’d fallen into a keg.

  Apparently, I wasn’t followed and finally arrived home. I made my way inside and crashed into bed, dead to the world.

  Chapter 15

  I finally opened my eyes, rested and ready. I had been utterly assaulted and unprepared to handle such a huge mistake. I also needed help and knew the list I could draw from was short. Extremely short: Janet, who was one of the only people I trusted, but how would she handle my secret? As such a competent nurse who’d “seen it all,” I really hoped she could. It was already roughly 6:00 p.m., and I’d slept enough of the day away.

  First, I needed a replacement phone, so I grabbed cash and bought the most advanced smart phone the electronics store offered. Once I loaded my security apps and settings, I phoned Janet and prayed this would go well.

  “Hello?”

  “Jan, it’s Sam. New number and a long story, but I need to tell you about it.”

  “Sam, hello! I’m just waking up because I’ve been on night shift, but I don’t work tonight so how about we meet somewhere, and you can tell me this long story of yours.”

  “Sure, but it would be safer if you came to my home. You’ll understand why once I‘ve explained, but we can’t talk anywhere else. I hope that’s okay.”