Psychic

by F. P. Dorchak

  Cory fell into Black, and together they tumbled to the floor, but not before Cory had gotten a view of the console behind Black. Its displays and graphs were going wild. A video feed displayed the washed out features of a severely distraught woman. It was at that moment that Cory’s boiling-point flared.

  Failure was not an option!

  He prayed to God that Travis and Gina would now be successful in getting this woman out of there.

  Cory again wielded the three-hole punch. This time he felt a solid connection…

  3

  Travis entered the soundproofed room to the smell of excrement, urine, and sweat — and lots of terrified, strained screaming, which nearly drove him back out of the room. The room was brilliantly lit, so much so it hurt his eyes; he could barely keep them open. From what he could see, the room was devoid of all features except for what looked like a huge, modified version of their RoboChair in the center of the room… and into which was strapped a woman. Except you wouldn’t have immediately known the person to be a woman from her crazed and matted appearance, eyes wide and wild, full of hurt, anger, and insanity. No matter how much he’d prepared himself… he wasn’t.

  The woman screamed a rage and hurt into the world that tore at his being.

  Travis cursed himself for thinking this, but was there even anything left to rescue?

  He sprinted into action.

  In one swift and clean motion, he ripped away the wire-and-cable package that extended out the back of the RoboChair, from the speakers. Almost immediately, the screaming stopped. Travis came around to the front. He wiped his watering eyes and squinted in the intense glare.

  Lizzie began crying, grunting, struggling against her restraints. It was almost like she was trying to talk, say something, but her mouth was paralyzed.

  Travis reached out to her face with both hands — cupped it, holding it firmly — and quietly shushed her. She looked to him, and though at first it didn’t appear she saw anything, she slowly began to focus her glazed-and-reddened eyes on him.

  “Oh, dear, God,” Travis whispered, “what has he done to you?”

  Lizzie stopped.

  Travis quickly undid her restraints, his own hands shaking and trembling. Saw and felt how her body continued to quiver uncontrollably. Her whole body sweat and strained, but as soon as he’d freed her, she collapsed into his arms.

  “My name’s Travis,” Travis said, fighting back his own anger and emotion, “and there are a bunch of us here to help you — get you out. We’re so… sorry…”

  Fucking bastard, Travis thought. Fucking, fucking bastard, Black…

  The woman mumbled and cried. Travis removed her limp form from the chair, positioning her across his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry.

  Then he shot out of the room like a bat outta hell.

  Cory struggled against Black’s ironclad grip on his throat. His strength was quickly weakening from the gunshot to his belly. Throughout their struggle, the ability of Black to remain calm and detached struck fear in Cory. Black hadn’t broken a sweat, and didn’t appear to breathe hard — if at all — even at his age. Cory was clearly in way over his head, but was too far into things to just give up. He hoped he could outmaneuver the man just by being younger and stronger, but Black was clearly a skilled opponent — used to killing, a lifetime of killing, no doubt — and the bullet in his gut worsened by the second. Unless he got the upper hand — and soon — he hadn’t a chance.

  Black attempted a knee to Cory’s groin, which only landed on his inner thigh, but which still inflicted a good deal of pain. Cory felt himself graying out… weakening further… but managed to

  (healthy and strong!)

  collect his focus and roll Black off of him. Black tumbled into the console’s lower panels, bounced off and came right back at him. But, Cory (not knowing how he did it) was also up off the floor in a crouched position.

  (get the job done!)

  Coughing up blood.

  Spotting the nine mil, Cory dove for it… but Black kicked it away. Cory landed hard on empty floor and slid into another console panel, jarring his stomach wound. Weakening by the second and dizzy, he nearly threw up.

  “You stupid boy,” Black taunted, “I grew up in the killing fields. I do this for fun.”

  Black was calm, cool, collected — a robotic killing machine.

  A real-life Terminator.

  “Bring it on, boy… I ache for some physical activity.”

  Black allowed Cory to shakily get back to his feet. Cory spotted his stupid, insane weapon-of-a-three-hole punch across the floor from him, over by the wall. The nine mil was in the opposite direction, under a lip of console. There was no way he was going to get to the nine mil before Black would again be all over him.

  “Feeling a little weak, are we? Losing a little blood? Woozy, maybe? Would it help to know that you’re already too late—”

  Black paused a moment, as if he’d caught wind of something…

  “When I’m done with you,” Black continued, collecting himself, “I’ll do to your body what I did in the Asian jungles years ago — just for old time’s sake. I look forward to fishing out your intestines for lunch.”

  And again that painful-looking grin — it was like his face wasn’t meant to smile. It honestly looked like Black enjoyed whatever pain his smile caused him.

  Cory went for the gun.

  He definitely didn’t have enough energy for another full-on go-around — but could always pull a trigger. The gun was his only, real, choice. As he lunged for the weapon, images of his life flashed before him… of swimming in Indian Lake… of his first kiss from Gabrielle Palermo… playing around in their backyard tree house… heading off to college… to war…

  Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he’d be caught up in a futile life-and-death struggle with Evil Incarnate.

  Never had he considered dying.

  Unable to believe he was doing it, Cory wrapped his hand around the grip of the nine mil (images of all those killed with this weapon flew through his head), clumsily rolled across the floor, and unsteadily aimed the weapon at Black.

  Gone.

  Cory scanned the room, sluggishly directing the SIG SAUER where his gaze went. He winced, almost dropping the weapon. It felt as heavy as an anchor.

  It was a pained struggle to get back to his feet. He could feel his life leaving his body.

  Black had slid out of the glassed-in enclosure, and was now in the adjacent support center through which he had entered. A brief probability of himself not having entered this lab room flashed through his mind.

  Cory again winced, leaning against another console for support. He made his way to the doorway. As he slowly lifted his head, he looked up to see a chair sailing out from the darkness, one of its wheels twisting wildly.

  The chair struck him, clipping his left shoulder.

  Cory fired off a wild round, as he spun around from the impact. He collapsed against another console, yelping out in pain. Black charged out from the darkness. Cory had a sudden image of a huge, dark cloud enveloping him. He had nowhere to run and no energy left.

  Cory’s world spun before him. The gun grew so heavy in his hand he could no longer control it. He tried one last attempt at taking out Black, but only managed to get off several more, ill-placed, and ricocheted rounds.

  Black just kept coming.

  Nothing stopped the man.

  Black descended upon him.

  “Too bad you never saw this coming, remote viewer,” Black said.

  The last things Cory felt and heard, as he descended into a black void, were his screams and the jerking of his body as it was jaggedly torn open…

  4

  Lizzie continued trembling as Travis carried her over his shoulder.

  But, as Travis made his way down the hallway, the hallway with the white noise speakers blaring out above and around him, he began to feel a little… off. Something was different about the hallway. Things felt… weird. May
be it was all the glare and shit from that little Psycho Cell from Hell from which he’d freed this woman, but he definitely felt affected by something…

  Disoriented.

  Travis slowed his sprint down as he rounded a corner… and nearly ran into them.

  Two of them.

  Blocking his way.

  He stopped.

  Huffing, shaking his head, he looked up to the speakers — yes, that damned white noise continued to assault him. He felt sleepy… confused… just wanted to set Lizzie down and take a break…

  “Mr. Norton,” said one of the men, dressed in a conservative dark suit, “you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

  “You really ought to leave her behind,” said the other, dressed in the same conservative suit.

  There was an utter creepiness to both men… but Travis didn’t care. He just wanted to stop. Take a breather. He swung his

  (oh, so heavy…)

  head up and looked down the hallway beyond the men… back around the corner he’d just rounded. His mind felt like a spinning top as he returned to the two men. Stumbled a step.

  “You can’t win,” one said.

  “There’s no way out,” said the other.

  Travis stared at the two guys. They stared blankly back at him. Unmoving. Expressionless.

  Travis blinked and shifted Lizzie’s weight. She was growing heavier. Uncomfortable. He staggered.

  “You’re tired.”

  “Overworked.”

  “Your government needs you—”

  “Your country—”

  “This woman is the enemy—”

  “Evil.”

  “Tried to kill you and the others.”

  “We had to do this… put her away.”

  “Evil.”

  “Put her down.”

  “On the floor.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Alone…”

  Travis stumbled back against the wall. There was… something else… something tugging at the back of his mind… a memory, at once familiar and comforting, yet disturbing…

  Where were those children? Why weren’t they here, now, helping him?

  Travis looked back to the two men. His eyes grew heavier. The two now slowly advanced on him. Together. In unison. Their faces expressionless and…

  Why was this so familiar?

  “Come back with us—”

  “We can help you.”

  Travis shook his head. “No,” weakly came out of his mouth. “This is wrong… something’s…”

  Travis’s groggy mind worked. The men felt familiar… like he knew them… though he’d never seen them before. What was it… what was it about these guys…

  There was something else niggling at him… something else was going on here. There was another sound in that damned white noise… its pure frequencies jarring, determined… sparks kept firing off in his mind…

  Travis again shifted Lizzie across his shoulders, pressed harder into the wall behind him. It was so easy to close his eyes, to just go to sleep and slump onto the floor… right here, now… let these two men have what they wanted…

  They were right.

  Who was this woman to him, anyway?

  Why should he risk his life for her?

  He was so tired…

  (Bark!)

  Give her up…

  Bark! Bark!

  … to these gentlemen…

  Invaders.

  “So, this is who you left me for?,” came the voice from before him. It was a different voice… soft and sweet, yet laced with

  (… familiar…)

  venom.

  Travis blinked burning eyes and looked up.

  Bark!

  “All those long hours, you said… all that work, you said… and this is the kind of ‘work’ I find you doing? The person I find you doing?”

  Travis shook his head. It was so hard to lift his head and look up.

  (growling)

  “A-A-Annabel?”

  Out from where the two men had been, she came. Just as he’d last remembered her, as she’d walked out their door that last time. A white blouse over blue jeans and some flats, he thought women called them. Her hair loose… her face angry… disappointed.

  Sad.

  “What… what are you—”

  “Apparently catching you in the same old lies—”

  “Lies? I never—”

  Annabel came right up to him; stopped inches from his face. Travis could smell her perfume—“Red”—feel the arcing of sexual energy between their bodies so close after having been apart for so long… quaked under the intensity of her deep, dark scrutiny.

  That damned white noise! Would somebody please make it—

  “How can you—”

  “Don’t change the subject, you bastard,” she said.

  Travis found himself excited by her presence — her proximity — wanting her. Intensely attracted to her… in fact, never had he been so attracted to her as he felt right now. She stood so close he felt her breasts faintly brushing up against him. Felt her breath on the skin of his face… swore he also felt her deep need actually reaching out to him, the anger just a front…

  Bark! BARK!

  “Wait,” Travis said, dizzy, confused, backing away, “What the hell? This… can’t be…”

  Annabel’s tone softened.

  “What do you mean, honey? I’m right here,” she said, reaching out to him.

  Travis again shifted Lizzie; straightened up a little.

  “What the hell is that damned… barking?”

  Annabel stared at him.

  “No,” Travis said, pushing away from the wall and reshouldering Lizzie. “There’s—

  Bark!

  “No way you could possibly be here—”

  “Look, honey, I’m sorry… so sorry for running out on you like that. You did have a stressful job — I see that now — and if you needed another woman, that’s fine, too. Let’s do it now… right here… I don’t mind. I really miss you,” she said, continuing to come for him.

  “No! There’s no way you could be here!”

  The next time Travis looked up, Annabel was naked.

  “Don’t you want this? Don’t you miss me? I miss you.”

  “I…”

  Did he miss her?

  Did he want her?

  Stupid questions, but what was even more stupid, Travis suddenly realized, was that she was here at all.

  No way. There was no way any of this was possible. This was Mind Fuck Central.

  Suddenly Travis heard the deep throaty growl, a growl that sounded like a two-hundred-pound Rottweiler, and it came from behind Annabel.

  Travis looked up to the speakers in the ceiling and walls.

  White noise.

  Mind feeling out of sync.

  RoboChair.

  Looked to Annabel.

  To the illusionary swell of her breasts, the intense, longing desire in her eyes. Her desperate, parted lips and outstretched hands…

  Then he looked beyond Annabel, and spotted

  Crackers!

  He smiled.

  Crackers again growled that deep, death-dealing growl. Crackers barked, and barked and barked… until Annabel disappeared.

  Travis stared at where Annabel and the Invaders agents had been.

  Gone. All of it.

  “Thank you, girl,” Travis said to Crackers, who barked once in acknowledgement, wagged her tail… then promptly vanished.

  Travis looked up to the white noise speakers, reshouldered Lizzie, and sprinted as fast as he could down the hallway.

  5

  Breathing heavily, Travis and Lizzie wove their way up and out of 4250. But, he was slowing down. Throughout their getaway, Lizzie drooled and bled from her nose and mouth, mumbling incoherently. He tried to reassure her she was okay, that he wouldn’t let anything else happen to her, and that they would soon be safe.

  What had this woman been like before her abduction, before
whatever it was Black had done to her?

  Had she smiled a lot?

  A sense of humor?

  A significant other?

  Would she now be forever scarred?

  Was she mentally tough enough to endure?

  Their passage had — again — continued to go undetected, and that confounded Travis. The children were now gone, and he seemed on his own, but even more disturbing, Travis felt a sudden and powerful loss. Something terrible had just happened — and where had Black been all this time? If Lizzie had currently been undergoing her torture session with him, where had Black been?

  Surely, he must now know she’d been extracted. Enter, the hallway hallucinations.

  Gina… are you out there? Travis called. Gina?

  No answer.

  Cory?

  No answer.

  Gina! he again tried.

  Here, Trav.

  Travis sensed heavy emotion. Oh, no—

  Cory’s gone, Gina answered.

  What?

  We haven’t much time… dead. I tried reaching him… and got — look, we can’t worry about him now… we need to get Lizzie out. I’m coming your way — in a Jeep — open-top Wrangler. Be ready.

  Where are we to—

  Outside.

  The others?

  Can’t worry about them.

  Don’t like—

  Neither do I. We knew the risks. Have to get her out — now.

  Roger that.

  We’ll work on the details once we’re moving—

  Travis pushed open the door and bolted out of the building. Into the open darkness. He hadn’t done this kind of activity in years and was quickly weakening.

  Just left 4250, Travis sent, starting to slow, so the quicker—

  Head east. Coming in from there. Can you make it?

  Yes.

  He’s onto us. Knows we have her. Be on the lookout.

  Travis acknowledged. East. Hoped she didn’t get spotted by The Center’s security patrols.