Another man came into his field of vision, thick around the middle with a lopsided grin on his piggish face. It took him some time to recognize Lieutenant Young, the officer who had started him down the path of this nightmare journey, who had stolen them away, torn them from their world at the church. Glaring at the man, he tried to make sense of what he was being told, scream at him for what he’d done, but for some reason the fat man’s words were gibberish. It took him a second to realize his ears were immersed, he couldn’t speak because there was a tube down his throat. The big man gave him a nod of approval, showing him a thumbs-up before vanishing from sight, the wild-haired assistant returning to the forefront, a tray of medical equipment beside him. The man began to work on him methodically, like a butcher readying a cut of meat. Bobby tensed, expecting pain when he ignited a pencil-thin laser then applied it against the base of his skull, the smell of burning skin and bone suddenly wafting to his nostrils. When he was done, Bobby watched him insert a device the size of a pea into his head, then using a portable circuit printer, tattooed his skin with multiple circuit boards up and down his arms and legs. The assistant gave him a once over, nodding in satisfaction at his handy work. He then vanished once again, leaving Bobby to wither in exhaustion, his skin on fire and head pounding, trying to understand what had been done to him. He had seen the tattoos on some silly procedural drama on the net, used to store and transmit data, heartbeat, pulse, anything that could be tracked. Rubbing his hand along the base of his skull, he traced the line the laser had left there and could only imagine the horrible thing now in his head.
The yellow-toothed man returned at last, giving him a nervous grin while tapping on the breathing tube that was down his throat. That was his only warning before the wild-haired man began to pull, ever so slowly, causing Bobby to gag and struggle for breath while the long piece of plastic inched up his throat. He could feel every ridge of the tube as it was pulled out, the urge to vomit growing with each passing second. His hands became claws as he tore at the sides of the pod, his thin body bending and twisting, his panicked movements sloshing liquid onto the floor. With a final tug it came away, causing his stomach to heave. Blue liquid, like he had been immersed in, exploded from his mouth as he rolled to his side and emptied his stomach onto the floor, belching and gagging, the vile chemical erupting from his insides tasting like antiseptic and bleach. He lay there for long moments breathing hard, leaning over the side of the capsule with bile and spittle dripping from his lips, still convulsing as waves of nausea washed over him.
He flinched when a blanket was placed on his shoulder's seconds later. A soft cloth appeared, gently wiping away the spittle and bile from his face. “You’re going to be fine, the worst of it has passed,” said the assistant, giving him an encouraging nod. “Here, take my arm. Let's get you out of here and into something warmer.” Bobby gratefully draped an arm across the man’s shoulders, clasping on to him for dear life as he exited the pod on legs that were like rubber, the blue chemical he was immersed in dripping down his legs and pooling at his feet. Taking a deep breath, he glanced around, finding himself in front of a long line of pods similar to his own, dozens of them angled against the wall of a narrow corridor with softly glowing panels. He was positive they were full of street kids like himself, the very people he had stood with when he arrived only days ago.
“Here, put this on. It will help warm you up,” said the assistant, handing him a set of gray coveralls. Bobby took them, slowly dressing while the other man held him up.
Once fully clothed in the itchy suit, he stood there dumbfounded and staring at nothing. With a nudge from the assistant they made their way down the corridor, his mind a fog. He couldn’t help glancing at the panels as they walked, and while he didn’t understand much of the medial jargon, he could tell something wasn’t right. Warning lights flashed constantly and from what he could tell there was no indication of heartbeat or pulse in any of the subjects. All the indicators were flatlined. He had a sinking suspicion that his pod was the only one that would ever open.
Reaching the end of the corridor a fit of anger bubbled in his stomach, adrenaline giving him a moment of strength, he pushed the assistant away using one hand to brace himself against the wall. “Where is my friend? Where's Elizabeth?” he said glaring at the man. The urge to know overwhelming all sense of reason.
“I don’t know,” said the assistant, his hands twisting in front of him, eyes downcast. “They don’t give us names. It's easier when—”
“When you don’t know who they are,” finished Bobby giving him an accusing look. “No names for the dead.” It dawned on him now how right Andrew had been. They didn’t matter; they were nobodies, and no one would miss them, much less coming looking. Bobby tried to return the way he came, tried to find some indication as to which one her pod was, and get her out before it was too late. He managed only a few feet stumbling along before the assistant raced to his side, catching him before gravity dropped him to the floor.
“You should talk to one of the reverends,” he said in a quiet whisper, “or Lieutenant Young. One of them should be able to tell you where your friend is.”
Fighting through a wave of dizziness he leaned up against the wall breathing hard, eyeing the assistant from the corner of his eye. “What do you do with the bodies?” he asked, having a flash on insight. He wanted to at least have a last moment with her, say goodbye.
“There is an incinerator. In D-block, they pile the bodies, but—”
“Incinerator? Bodies?” he said through gritted teeth, his world gone red. Surging forward, he wrapped his hands around the assistant’s throat, lifting him clear over his head and slamming him against the wall behind him with enough force the crack the drywall.
“Please, don’t—” he rasped, his feet kicking wildly as he clawed at Bobby’s hands around his throat. “We—don’t—have—”
Bobby ignored the man’s pleas, channeling his rage into choking the life from him, his weakness forgotten. He watched with grim satisfaction as the assistant's pale face went from bright red to deep purple, only the whites showing from his bulging eyes. He would kill them all, that fat lieutenant, the reverend, along with anyone else he could find in this godforsaken place.
Without warning Bobby felt a lancing pain, like a needle had been driven into the base of his skull. The assistant fell from his grip, his newfound strength fleeing as he dropped to his knees clutching the sides of his head. A hoarse scream escaping his throat. With each heartbeat it became worse, a deep throbbing that made him curl into a ball on the cold tiled floor. Bobby was not sure how long he lay there, tears leaking out of his eyes, dark spots dancing in his vision. From far away he heard the door to the area open, a cool draft wafting over him, and heavy-booted steps moving closer.
The pain stopped as a shadow fell over him, a rough kick to his side forcing him onto his back. Above him was Lieutenant Young, holding up a small device so that Bobby could see. “That, my friend was level three. This son of a bitch goes all the way to ten,” he said with his Kentucky twang. “You wanna test me and see how that feels; you try that horseshit again. I’ll put it on and leave it till the cows come home. Ya get me?”
Bobby swallowed, still trembling while the pain faded to a dull ache in his head. He said nothing. Eyes narrowing and his jaw clenched as he stared at the device in the lieutenant's hand, thoughts of violence tearing through his mind.
Lieutenant Young chuckled. “See that rage, Carmichael,” he said, winking at the assistant who was struggling to his feet, a shaking hand rubbing his throat. “This skinny beanpole's got some fight in him. Even down for the count he's got that look, like he'd rip my guts out if he could. Anyhow, don’t you worry 'bout a thing. We got ways of puttin' that anger to good use. C’mon, let's get the hell outta here.” The fat man leaned down, offering him a hand, nodding that he should take it. With his help Bobby made his way to his feet, finally able to stand on his own. He took a long look at the pods behind him, a
lump forming in his throat. With a supreme effort he squeezed his eyes shut to fight back the tears, not daring to say another word. For now, he kept his emotions in check while he followed Lieutenant Young and Carmichael from the chamber room, never feeling more alone in the world.
Chapter 14: A Vast Emptiness
2063
“My God! How is this possible?” said Bobby, his jaw hanging open. The city at the bottom of the cavern looked wrong, the soft glow that permeated the entire place unnatural. Alien. There was no up or down to the design, its thin crystal spires growing out from the sides of the cavern as much as the bottom, appearing almost too fragile to stand on their own. Bobby held on to Carter for dear life, the two of them floating above a dark metropolis that stretched as far as he could see.
“I don’t know,” whispered Carter, his eyes opened wide. “I thought I was imagining things when I saw it. You think its E.T.s, you know—extra-terrestrials.”
“I know what E.T. means, Carter. Whoever lived here is long gone. This place looks like it's been abandoned for ages,” he said, pointing at the mounds of dirt piled against some of the buildings, with other parts buried under what looked like cave-ins. He had read stories of places in Europe where they would find ancient Roman garrisons, entire towns sometimes built over by new construction, the old places forgotten with time. But this was impossible, because it wasn’t some ancient construction made of crumbling mortar and brick. No simple hand had ever touched these structures, and there was no town in the desert above built upon its bones.
“So, what do we do?” said Carter. “Do we go down there, see if anyone’s home?”
Bobby raised an eyebrow, glaring at the pilot. “Are you nuts. No way am I going near that place; I’ve seen too many horror movies. Besides, I can use my abilities to find anything living.”
Carter’s head bobbed yes, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Do you want me to get closer?”
“Just hold us steady—and keep quiet.” Bobby snorted, sucking in the stale air in the cavern while centering himself. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind, looking for the telltale signs of life he had learned to identify, those flashes of insight that itched in his brain. Straining to the edge of his limits he scanned the empty city, but he found not a trace in its grand spindles and tall spires, not even insects, only a vast empty space devoid of all life. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Carter he’d found nothing his breath caught in his throat, like a giant weight was suddenly on his chest and driving the air from his lungs.
His mind was flooded with thousands of images flashing by like a mad kaleidoscope. He saw bits and pieces of life in the city, bright-eyed people full of life, more than he could count going about their daily lives, living, loving, growing old, with time replaced by their children. The cycle of life and death repeating generation after generation for a time beyond counting. Bobby observed the evolution of it all. The city itself appeared to grow directly from the surrounding stone, small glowing seeds of crystal planted by the inhabitants, digging deep into the bedrock, emerging into magnificent spires of every shape and shade spanning the width and breadth of the cavern. He blinked and it was all gone, he found himself back in the cavern floating above the dead metropolis, clutching tightly to Carter who stared at him with a wide-eyed look of panic. A heartbeat later the perspective shifted again, the flashes and images coming quicker than before. He saw the earth with cities of crystal spread across the globe filling caverns greater in scope than the original, magical places with fantastical technology, things not even dreamed of in the mind of man. Then a shadow fell over it all, hatred, war, the bright-eyed people murdering one another, setting their perfect cities aflame, death and destruction spreading across the globe until it was all ash, and nothing was left except for this forgotten place, long abandoned. There was more, so much more, faces of men he had never met: flashes of places he knew, Boston, New York, cities unknown, all burning.
“Bobby, Bobby!” Carter’s scream pulled him back for a moment, his breathing coming in short spurts as he looked out in awe over the lifeless structures.
“I’m here,” he said, his blood pounding in his ears. “We have to go, now!”
Carter didn’t ask questions, jetting them off through the darkened cavern at breakneck speeds. The sense of direction changed abruptly, and they rose, faster with each heartbeat, the smell of the desert and smoke telling him they were close to the surface. The first hints of light were near blinding forcing them to squint and shield their faces. Not long after, they returned to where they started on the edge of the crater staring into the abyss, Bobby was falling to his knees, his entire body shaking from what he’d seen.
“What the hell was that place?” whispered Carter, his face pale as he continued to stare into the pit while they both sat listless, watching the sun crawl across the clear desert sky.
“I saw things,” began Bobby. “When I reached out—I can’t remember most of it, but there were people living down there a long time ago, and then cities, like the one we saw, spread out across the world.” He scrubbed a hand over his face before continuing. “Then a war, a world war. Killing and slaughtering. Murdering children. Burning everything,” he said, his voice breaking. “I think I saw the past…things to come. I’m not sure.”
“How can that be?” said Carter, scanning the horizon. “We would have found other places like this if they existed. You can’t hide—”
They were interrupted by the chime from Bobby’s phone, the bishop calling for his report. Cursing, he pulled it from his pocket, giving Carter a sharp look to silence him. On the screen Michael’s face was like a thunderhead, his lips curled into a sneer. “Report,” he began bluntly, not bothering with niceties.
“Sir?” Bobby said, trying to keep the tremble from his voice. “There was a crystal tower of some sort, but it was destroyed, shattered into a thousand pieces. No sign of our targets. They accomplished their goal and moved on, it seems,” said Bobby, holding his breath.
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing, sir. I’m surprised we even found the crystal, I’m not sure what you were expecting in the middle of the desert,” he said, praying that Michael would be angered enough by his comment to miss the falsehood. He feared for the world if Michael got his hands on the city, his gut telling him it would be best if it remained buried and forgotten.
On the screen Michael took the bait, his face contorting, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. “That was always your problem, Robert. You never just do as you're told. It makes you a poor tool. You would do well to listen to your betters, and you’ll go further in life.”
“What are your orders?” said Bobby, keeping his tone calm and measured, as anything else would only aggravate him more, and they needed to move off the subject of the crater. Michael waited, daring him to say the wrong thing.
“Transport is en route,” Michael began, satisfied that he had silenced him. “I’m not sure if you can make it, but things are critical. Their next target is Central Park in Manhattan.” He continued, leaning into the screen. “I don’t have to tell you the consequences if she unleashes anything close to what she did at your location; it could put millions of lives in jeopardy. You need to do better, Robert. Put aside mercy and do your duty. She was my friend too, but now she’s gone rabid and has to be put down. Use any means necessary. Understood?” he finished in a harsh tone.
Bobby knew his former friend didn’t give a damn about New York or the people living there. He hadn’t batted an eye when Elizabeth and Andrew had destroyed Boston Common and half of Back Bay. There was something there he wanted to protect, and he would do anything to stop them. “Do you have forces deployed to protect the city?”
Michael snorted, leaning back from the screen. “Of course we do. Not that it matters. Look at the carnage around, and you’ll understand how well conventional forces did. You’re the only one now that can stop this. When you find them I need you to do what you did in Blackwood. Take out everything, no
matter the cost. Those are your orders.”
Looking out at the blackened and twisted bodies strewn over the desert he agreed, the madness had to end, one way or another. He couldn’t afford to be slow or soft. “I’ll stop them, no matter the cost,” agreed Bobby with a grim tone, the weight of so many lives on his shoulders filling him with dread. “ETA for transport?”
“Seven minutes out.”
“That puts us in New York in an hour at an Odin’s top speed,” said Carter, folding his arms across his chest. Bobby didn’t bother to scold the pilot for speaking the truth. On screen Michael nodded, having made the same calculation. Time would be short, and they couldn’t afford mistakes; not this time.
“Godspeed, Robert. Washington out.”
Bowing his head, he traced a finger over the blackened soil, lost in thought. Even if they made it in time he wasn’t sure he could stop them. All things being equal Elizabeth had always been the stronger of them in every way that counted, and whatever she was doing at these sites was only serving to make her more so. Then there was Andrew, with his ability to slip in and out of different energy states, making him untouchable at will, and while he wasn’t anywhere near her strength, just having to fight the both of them together would be a nightmare.
He looked up with a start to find Carter’s hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said. “Besides, I think I you’re forgetting one advantage you have in all this.”
His brow knitted as he stared up at the pilot. “And what would that be?”
Children of the Spear (Novella): Origin Page 8
