Caught in the Web

by Jason R Davis

  Either that, or Bryan, not being a field scientist, overreacted and all of this was being blown out of proportion. Part of her, the part that cared about a friend and colleague, hoped that wasn’t the case. Yes, that would mean a lot of people’s lives would be in danger, but Bryan’s name would not be tarnished, and his career wouldn’t be over. Of course, his life may have already ended.

  “Bryan okay?” Sarah asked, not looking up from the file.

  “Don’t know. I listened to his call again. He hadn’t been in the town too long. On his call, I heard banging in the background. Sounded like there was some kind of trouble. He didn’t sound right, and he started to go on about spiders crawling all over him.” He paused and Sarah looked at him. His face was grim. “He initiated the ‘K’ protocol.”

  Sarah had just turned to the next page. It gave a brief rundown of the quarantine they had established, then a minor notation at the bottom saying that the “Katharizo” protocol was being used. That didn’t make her happy. She didn’t know all the details of the “Katharizo” protocol, which she knew had been nicknamed by many in the military as the “K” or “Kilo” protocol because they couldn’t pronounce the actual name, but she did know that once the military established the quarantine, they would cut off all communication into and out of the town. If they had already done that, there was very little chance that Bryan had been able to make a call out. Even if he made it to the inner perimeter, the military wouldn’t believe him, and if he tried to push too hard, she knew that the military had orders to shoot anyone who was becoming aggressive towards them.

  So her friend may still be alive and he just couldn’t get the word out. Was she allowed to think that positively?

  “K” protocol also meant that there were things already in place for her team. It was meant for biological terrorism, and was in place as a way for things to move quickly.

  “K” protocol meant that while they were rushing to get her to the closest air strip where she could meet with the rest of her team, the lab would already be set to go into the infected zone. The “lab” was of a design that she, with the help of many others, had built to be customized and highly mobile. Since it was established, the politicians working with military and other scientists, as well as a budget committee of money-saving number crunchers, had all worked together to create this cost-effective, highly mobile plan.

  While the scientists wanted high tech mobile labs with massive amounts of security, monitors, and fancy equipment in a large vehicle the government felt would cost nearly a half-million, it was not considered cost effective to have these vehicles all over the U.S. Sure, they could make a couple of them and have them near the major cities, and had that plan been approved, there would be one of those vehicles now coming from the Chicago area. She had never seen the final approved plans.

  She really did not want to start thinking of the zone as a town. The fact that Bryan was there was already making it hard for her to have the emotional detachment she needed to stay focused on the job at hand.

  Bryan.

  “Anymore from Bryan?” she asked Eric, looking up from the documents. They had neared the plane and he was already stepping out of the way to let her climb up into it. She didn’t think he would come with her. He served no purpose to the team, and with him still working on his political future, he wouldn’t want his face anywhere near this.

  Eric’s face already told her what he was about to say, but she couldn’t even hear him say it as the plane’s turbines had already started to cycle up the moment her foot touched the stairs into the lush compartment. She wondered if it had been automatic, though she knew that someone must have been watching for her and the moment she was there, they had orders to hurry up and go.

  She looked at Eric, and though she couldn’t hear him, she saw him shake his head and mouth the word, No.

  Sarah’s heart sank a little as she walked the rest of the way into the compartment. Protocol “K” wasn’t good. Sure, there were the problems with the mobile lab, and it was not the perfect solution, but she also knew what the worst case scenario was. That was what sent frightened chills down her back as she went to meet the rest of her team.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sullivan was at the bar, but Jason really didn’t want to think about his friend back there because Sullivan was just as likely to drink the bar dry as much as serve it to any of the customers. How could he have ever trusted him? What would his mom say? She would kill him. She would throw him on a grill and cook him alive.

  He shouldn’t be thinking about that. That was not why he had left the bar, and he would not have left had it not been important. His mother would have to realize that. No matter how Sullivan handled the bar, she would have to realize that Jason needed to check on Lisa.

  It wasn’t like his mother never left the bar. She had occasionally rushed out for emergencies, so there would be no reason she should get so upset with him. She wouldn’t, but that wasn’t what was really bothering him.

  What bothered him was thinking about what he was going to find when he got back to the house. He didn’t want to think about it. Still, the images pushed their way in. The more he fought against them, the more he saw some monster standing over his little sister, and she was…she was…

  He shook his head and brought himself back to pay attention to the road. He wouldn’t allow that thought to finish. No way could he think that she could possibly be dead. There was no way he would let that happen to his little sis.

  No, she was going to be fine, but that didn’t stop him thinking about what he was going to find. He did not want to go back to his parents’ house and see what Tina had left there. Even worse, he was dreading finding it and had no idea what he was going to do about it. If she killed him, did that now make him an accessory even if he called the police? Because she ran away, could she still claim self-defense? How could he call the police when he knew that might mean his aunt would go to jail?

  His head ached, all of his thoughts trying to pull him at once, trying to gain traction. It was like a whirlwind inside his head, blinding him from focus. He felt like he just wanted to lay down, close his eyes, and let all the thoughts explode in their own directions.

  He had to struggle to focus on the world around him and pay attention to where he was driving. It was made harder by his familiarity with the roads and how he could drive home mindlessly. He didn’t want to do that. It wouldn’t be safe, not this time of day when there could be kids riding their bikes around the bustling town.

  Looking around, he saw that he was only a block-and-a-half away from his house now. There was a slight turn to the left, a quick turn to the right, then he was on his block. The last block in town and one of the most deserted. There wasn’t much at this end of town. To his left, there was a row of trees that ran along his street, ending in the old, abandoned house that was a strong wind gust away from falling down. To the right was the long stretch of property, one he knew well from having to mow it so often, then his house. The street wasn’t long, only one block, and the house he had grown up in was a quarter of the way down. There were a couple more after that, neighbors who have come and gone over the years. He wasn’t even sure who lived in the two houses near the other end of the street, but he knew somebody lived there as their yards had started to get mowed again. Then the street ended, and he would have to turn to the right to come around along the back side, or drive straight off into a cornfield.

  He briefly looked over at the woods. He knew the woods so well and, while they didn’t run too deep before they ended at the cornfield on the other side, there were paths through there, some he helped create. There were hidden bases that he and his friends had conquered growing up. There were little cement bunkers here and there, not visible from the road, ones that he had often imaged had been military stations. He had once had a childhood fantasy that there were military bases hidden underneath the town, a whole society doing military experiments. Somewhere, somehow, someday, he had always imagined
he would find the entrance and sneak his way down to it.

  How crazy that seemed as he got older. He tried to think about those memories. He tried to grab onto them, let them take possession of his mind, and not think about what was going to be in the house. Think about the happy thoughts, the times when he took the metal detector down the paths, trying to find secret doors.

  It didn’t work. He thought about the woods and walking through them, but then he saw a shadow memory, dark images of a man-shape dragging the body of a little girl through the woods. The little girl wasn’t moving.

  He closed his eyes and let the car slow to crawl, inching slowly towards the house. It didn’t look all that menacing, but why should it? From what his aunt had told him, everything had happened inside the house, so nothing could really be seen from the outside. It still looked like that innocent little house he had grown up in, the one with never enough room so they always seemed to be tripping over each other. The warm place where he always thought he would feel safe and comfortable.

  This house no longer seemed like that safe home he grew up in. There was a menace to it now. Some kind of evil seemed to be inside it, the two front windows looking like eyes that seemed to watch him. They continued to glare at him as he slowly passed by in front of them, and then he was looking at the large picture window of the living room. The sun glinted off of it and he couldn’t see anything. He continued on until he reached the tip of the driveway.

  He parked just off to the side of the driveway, that little patch of gravel where his grandmother parked, and then became his spot. The car sat there, him sitting inside as he let it idle. He really didn’t want to get out of the car. Getting out of the car meant he had to deal with “it”, and he really didn’t want to.

  Sweat was beading on his forehead, despite the air conditioning running full blast. His chest was aching as his lungs burned. He felt like his breathing wanted to race faster than he would let it. His palms were wet and he was gripping the steering wheel to the point that he wasn’t sure he would be able to pull his hands away from it. He hoped it was his imagination that made him feel like the ridges on the steering wheel below his fingers were deepening.

  He turned off the ignition. The car stopped rumbling, and he was left with the lonely sounds of a clicking noise coming from under the hood. It seemed like a clock was ticking, trying to push him into motion. He cursed under his breath, wishing he didn’t have to do this. If he could just keep putting it off, maybe he wouldn’t have to. Maybe the guy would just come walking out, he would be okay, and there would be nothing for Jason to worry about.

  His heart was beating and threatening to force its way out of his body. Either it was going to work its way up into his throat, or it was going to pound its way out through his ribcage. No matter which way it chose, it wanted out.

  Damn organs.

  He let his hand slam down on the steering wheel and, to his surprise, a tear forced its way down his cheek and fell onto the grey, hard plastic. He let his head fall into it, bringing his arm around to cradle it. What the hell was he crying for?

  “Come on, Jason. Get your shit together,” he said to the wheel, having to fight with himself to keep the tears from flooding out of him.

  He reached over and pushed open the door, nearly falling out of the car. He didn’t want to do this. His body was fighting against him, his mind was telling him not to go.

  Then his feet were on the ground and he found himself walking around the front of the house.

  “Make sure you grab a cue stick from the pool table when you go into the house,” he whispered to himself as he bolted past the bushes on his left and leapt onto the front cement steps. He took them two at a time, nearly tripping over the third step that, for some reason, was taller than the others. He caught himself and made it to the top.

  The cement porch had posts like it was meant to be fenced in but, for someone reason, had never been finished. Other than the metal supports every four feet, there was nothing to hold up the roof overhead, and the cement itself had once been blue, but was now faded to a peeling dirty gray color. He quickly crossed it and made it to the front door, pulling back on the screen door, but not too hard. He still remembered breaking the door two years ago, and he didn’t want to repeat that incident, especially since the door hadn’t been completely fixed.

  He was trying not to think about what he had to do. Thinking about everything else around him, the porch, and the door helped keep him from focusing on any of it. But reality came crashing back as some force on the other side of the door slammed into it. The screen door slammed shut as he had let it go, shocked and unconsciously taking a step back, amazed he hadn’t screamed.

  His heart started beating even faster, which he hadn’t realized was even possible. His hand hovered over the doorknob. Someone was in there. Did they have his little sister? Vince had to have his sister in there. What was he doing to her? Was he hurting her? Had Tina’s ex brought other guys with him, others that she hadn’t known about who had come to his rescue? Were they fighting in there? Whatever was happening, what had hit against the door had sounded large and pissed.

  And whoever was inside was getting pretty frustrated because he heard something thrashing around. He tried to identify if he heard one person throwing things, or if there were two people fighting. There was another loud thump, probably on the pool table, then the sound of shattering glass and another loud crash as something landed against the floor.

  Jason wasn’t sure what to think. His hand slipped off the doorknob, his breath catching in his throat and his weight shifting onto his back foot.

  What was he doing? Instincts had started to kick in. Voices inside his head screamed at him to get the hell out of there. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t really much of a lover, either, but definitely not a fighter. He was a college kid, not a scholar, not a sports kind of guy. He was a computer geek. So what was he planning on doing? Dropping a monitor on someone’s head? That would be all well and good if it was an old CRT monitor that weighed fifty pounds, but he doubted the new slimmer flat screens would even do any good.

  Focus.

  Think.

  He can’t run. His sister was in there.

  There had to be something that he could do. He couldn’t allow himself to think about running away. He needed to think about helping his sister.

  How would he fix a computer virus? Well, there are many types of viruses… No, he couldn’t allow himself to think about the details. Okay, he’s dealing with a virus. The computer’s having a problem booting into normal mode, which would be the same as going in the front door. So he had to find a new way to get into the house. He had to deviate around the normal startup mode. Okay, so boot into safe mode then.

  The window would be his safe mode. So far, thinking like this was working for him, as long as he didn’t pay attention to that smashing glass.

  Another loud bang came from inside, then what sounded like somebody doing a slow Godzilla stomp started to move to the door. He struggled not to think about Lucy. She was in there with whoever was slamming around. He hoped he wasn’t too late and that they hadn’t done something terrible to her.

  Don’t think about it. It’s a virus. He was going to try going into safe mode. Safe mode would make everything okay.

  He tried to walk as quietly as he could. Given the hardness of the cement, it wasn’t too difficult to move with stealth. Then again, with how sensitive his ears seemed to be, even his breathing sounded too loud to him. Keep thinking about the virus. It wasn’t something to worry about. It was only a computer virus.

  He reached the window just as the pounding sound on the other side stopped. Out of curiosity, he wished he could see it, but he also was thankful for the thick curtain that kept him from looking in.

  The air around him seemed to have stopped as he held his breath. Sound no longer seemed to exist. The world had fallen silent. The window was only inches away from him, and he knew it would be unlocked. He’d been l
ocked out of the house too many times to count and he knew that he could always get back in that way. All he had to do was reach down to the base and push his hands flat against the glass to get suction. Then just lift and it would open.

  His hands wouldn’t move. They felt like they had become cement blocks, unable to be lifted.

  His lungs burned, he wasn’t breathing. His head was getting light and fuzzy. It was caught in his lungs as he tried to keep from opening the window. He didn’t want to know what was on the other side. Not knowing made everything easy. He didn’t need to think about anything. He could just stand there and close his eyes. When he did, it would all just go away.

  Virus. Fix the virus. It was all just a virus, and he needed to go into safe mode. However, going through that window was anything but safe.

  Suddenly, glass shattered and showered over him.

  The air in his lungs burst out and he stumbled backwards. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he barely saw the yellow, tangled mess bursting through the window and coming towards him.

  When his foot stepped back into nothingness, he started falling backwards. “Shi-”

  * * * *

  Rob pulled on the screen door of the bar, the springs squeaking as it opened. The damn door was just as frustrated as he was. It wanted to be left alone, to stay closed and not let anyone into the little corner bar. Just let this damn day end and be over with. Was it even noon yet?

  The mechanic had said they would be able to tow his car in and change the tire. Because he wasn’t smart enough to write down the tire size, a tire he could barely afford was now going to also include the price of being dragged into town.

  Right now, he wished he could drown himself in his own pain. Get away from all of the bullshit, order a bottle, and just fall into oblivion. He sure as hell deserved it. He felt like he needed it and he doubted that if Chief Renner found out, he would even care.