Mind's Horizon

by Eric Malikyte

  He pulled the trigger one final time.

  A film of blood and brains covered Eddy’s face as he grasped at his shoulder, wincing from the pain.

  The animal fell limp on the ground. The blood pooled out from his fingers and around his shoulder. It soaked through his coat, quickly leaking onto the floor, and created a large puddle. It was hard to tell how much blood was his. He let the gun fall out of his hands, and, with a shaky hand, reached for his CB.

  Ira was gonna be pissed.

  2

  There is nothing but darkness.

  Endless darkness.

  No horizon. No land. Nothing.

  Mathias wants to scream, but finds he has no voice.

  It seems like he's been drifting there for an eternity, floating like he's nothing.

  Then, after staring into the dark for untold hours, he sees something begin to take shape. An oval thing. Its surface is hard, cracked, like acrylic. It pushes through the dark like it's burrowing through black clouds, until it hovers inches from his face.

  It has no breath. No eyes.

  His heart. He can feel it pounding, telling him to run away. Far away.

  The oval shape is like a face, or the impression of one. It slowly takes shape, revealing two eyeholes and a carved mouth that's permanently fixed into a frown. The mask is covered by a hood that drapes back into the dark, fading. When Mathias looks at it, really looks at it, he gets the impression that it's older than even the most ancient of Sumerian artifacts.

  Mathias wants to ask it who it is. He feels as though the figure already knows.

  There are cracking sounds. The mask's mouth is moving.

  Transforming into a smile.

  Mathias woke up clutching at his chest, screaming.

  When he saw his own fear reflected back at him in the check-in station's window, he stopped screaming, took a moment to look at his surroundings.

  The florescent lights above buzzed, flickering on and off. The smell of the moldering sandwich he'd found when he first opened the door still struggled to make its presence known from the trash.

  He'd started his "guard" duty session from inside the abandoned check-in station, so he'd be able to keep some of his heavy gear off.

  He must have dozed off in the chair at some point.

  Only a dream, he thought.

  Every hair on his arms stood on end; there was a chill in the air.

  The door to the check-in station was ajar, swinging open and shut, seemingly by itself, letting in the harsh air from the ice tunnel beyond the gates.

  "Odd," Mathias said, standing up and closing it, making sure to lock it this time. "I could have sworn I closed it..."

  He sat there for a time, reading a tattered copy of Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time that he'd found in the insignificant concrete cell he'd claimed as his own.

  The chapter on black holes wasn't keeping his attention like he'd hoped.

  Every time he read the word event horizon, all he could think about was the thing Weber had mentioned in the log entry Ira had shown them.

  "The mind's horizon." Mathias rolled the words around in his mouth. Just saying it sent chills through him.

  If an event horizon was the point of no return for matter entering a black hole, then what was the mind's horizon?

  Perhaps it's the point beyond the mind's ability to understand its own perceived reality? Mathias thought. No, that can't be it.

  He closed the book and set it on the switchboard in front of him.

  Nothing was working.

  All he could think about was that thing in his dream.

  The mask. If it was a mask at all. It seemed so real. Even now, he felt like he could picture it perfectly in his mind.

  "I'm a rational, scientifically minded man," Mathias said, hearing the shaken quality of his voice bouncing back to his ears off the small check-in station's walls and buttons and tables. It was an alien sound. Even as a child, he'd never feared the things that his peers did. He’d known that the bogeyman was as real as Santa Claus and Jesus Christ were.

  But this was different.

  He chuckled. "I just need to clear my head, that's all."

  Mathias grabbed his coat and his facemask, and unlatched the door.

  Maybe it was time for him to tour the facility?

  3

  Nico watched Hugo lug the last of the supplies to the snowmobile.

  There was another storm rolling in from the west, its shadow already covering what was once Corona. If Eddy didn't hurry up, they might get stuck here for the night.

  "Make sure you tie those down, Hugo—"

  "Shit, Nico—" Eddy's voice crackled over the CB. "—I got a problem here."

  Nico grabbed the receiver and held it to his facemask. "What is it?"

  "You might get a laugh out of this." Eddy fell into a coughing fit. "A cat got me. Fucker bit right into my shoulder. I need a field-dressing...maybe a shot of morphine..."

  Idiot probably let his guard down, Nico thought. "We're at the warehouse over the main shelter. Can you make it to us?"

  "I think so." He paused. "It fucking hurts, but I think I can make it over to you."

  "Move your ass, then. Nico out."

  Nico lowered his CB. Hugo looked up at him. "What's up with Eddy, B?"

  "Don't worry about it," Nico said, retreating through the shutters and descending down the manhole. "Just make sure that load is secure. I need to take care of something."

  "Sure thing, boss-man."

  Nico made his way through the tunnel leading back to the shelter. He was certain there was a first aid kit he’d forgotten to grab.

  They didn't have time for this distraction. If Ramirez didn't get the supplies packed up, then there was no way they were going to get out of here before the storm hit.

  It was a miracle none of them had died in the last one.

  Nico removed his facemask. Took a seat before the desk where Eddy and Ira had come trotting into the shelter just days ago—late as hell—laughing and joking.

  The old shelter was cold. The generators that remained still ran, but the living space had dropped to an unlivable thirty degrees already.

  Nico watched his breath steam in the air.

  The first aid kit was packed underneath the desk. He grabbed it and held it close to him.

  He remembered his first time giving a field dressing.

  His hands had been covered in blood. Hernandez was bleeding out from multiple wounds. He didn't think she was going to make it. He desperately tried to get the bleeding to stop.

  "Just let me go, Hartman," Hernandez said, blood staining her perfect teeth. "Go find someone else who needs help."

  "No," he said. "I'm not giving up on you."

  She tried to respond, but descended into a violent coughing fit. Her body twisted and writhed on the ground like a child possessed by a demon.

  The empty look in her eyes when she died haunted his dreams to this day.

  Hernandez was one of his closest friends. She had always been by his side in the trenches.

  The Revolutionists that planted those explosives, that stormed the base while their guards were down, killed her.

  "What the hell?" Ramirez's voice came from the other end of the room.

  That was when Nico realized he was on the ground, rocking back and forth like a damned mental patient.

  Ramirez rushed over to him, holding his bleeding shoulder tight.

  Nico could practically smell the blood.

  People like Ramirez killed Hernandez. Killed Boyd. Took his leg. They couldn't be trusted.

  "Dude, are you having a fucking panic attack?" Ramirez's voice was incredulous. His dark complexion made his eyes look as if they were smoldering in their sockets.

  "You killed her," Nico said.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Ramirez said, backing away. "Dude, I'm bleeding out here, I don't feel—"

  Nico barely realized he'd done it. It was like someone else was in control
of his body. He got to his feet and closed the distance between them in the space of a heartbeat. His hand found the grip of his knife...and he swung.

  It was a clean cut, right across Ramirez's throat.

  The look in Ramirez's eyes as he fell back, gripping his bleeding throat, was enough to shake Nico out of his paranoid daze.

  He'd have to act fast if he wanted to save him.

  Do you really want to save him, though?

  He could make something up, claim the cat killed him. Bury him before anyone noticed. Would it really be so bad to lose this traitor?

  "Damn it," Nico said quietly, watching Ramirez writhe on the floor. "Ira would never forgive me."

  He grabbed the first aid kit and the bandages. Saving this asshole's life was going to be painful.

  4

  Lena covered herself as she made her way to the med bay, or whatever the hell it was called here. The corridors were cold and unfriendly. She hated it here already, but she couldn't put off the task Nico had given her any longer. There was no telling when they'd be back.

  At least their underground shelter had felt like a home. This...place...felt like they were part of some science experiment, like rats inside a maze.

  Every step she took reverberated back to her seconds later, filling the tubular corridors. It was like the place was making sure she knew she was totally alone.

  The med bay was its own room, separated from the corridor by glass. The doors opened for her, and she stepped inside.

  There was an open MRE pack and a dead cell phone on one of the counters. A mess of hypodermic needles and other supplies were spilled on the linoleum floor—

  She screamed, covering her mouth.

  Two bloody handprints started where the mess was and streaked all the way to a dark corner where the harsh florescent lighting barely reached.

  The lights flickered.

  It must have been her imagination; she could have sworn she saw something in that dark corner. Something that was staring right at her.

  "Screw this!" Lena backed out through the double glass doors and retreated to her room.

  She didn't care if Nico yelled at her. There was no way she was going to clean that mess up. At least not alone.

  And that face, those gray eyes...she pushed it away. It was only her imagination.

  She found her way back to her room. Taking an uncomfortable ride in the elevator. She held herself tight.

  Lena wished she could talk to someone about what she'd seen. But, Mathias was an emotionless brick, and Ira... Yeah, no.

  Why couldn't her friends have survived? They’d always gotten her.

  But that had been years ago, when the sun had burned bright in a vibrant, sometimes smog-filled sky. Where there were warm beaches filled with the hottest chicas—none as hot as she was—their smooth skin, oiled up, their asses hanging out of their bikini bottoms, breasts so full...and the shirtless guys, with their washboard abs, who worshiped the ground she walked on. She'd had a lot of fun on the beach. Taken a lot of girls home, and a lot of guys. Now, all she had was Hugo. A white boy who desperately wished he was black, in more ways than one.

  He wasn't half the man Nico was, even considering his fake leg.

  She bit her lip.

  Lena crawled into her cot, curled up in a ball, and prayed for it all to go away, for the blazing Southern California sun to return.

  It didn't, obviously.

  She rolled over on her side.

  Maybe she'd just take a nap? It'd be easier without the lights on...she remembered the thing she had seen in the shadows...

  I'll just nap with the lights on, she thought.

  Lena's eyes jerked open.

  She was sitting in the check-in station that Mathias had told her about.

  Must have fallen asleep, she thought.

  The ice tunnel was dark...it must be night already.

  Where was Mathias? He was supposed to trade watch duties with her.

  There was a crunching noise echoing through the speakers... She glanced at the control board. Funny, she didn't remember turning them on.

  She jumped as the door to the check-in station swung open.

  "What the fuck!"

  The crunching sounds...they were growing closer and closer.

  Fear coated her skin like sweat as she got up from her chair, walked to the ramp leading to the ice tunnel...and peered into the abyss.

  The crunching. It was footsteps.

  She could make out something moving in the tunnel.

  Something small.

  "Hello?" Lena said, her voice shaky and pathetic. "Nico? Hugo? Is that you?"

  The crunching stopped.

  "This isn't fucking funny!"

  As her eyes adjusted, her heartbeat quickened. The figure in the tunnel...it looked like a little girl.

  "I agree, mommy." That voice...it couldn't be...

  Lena backed away from the ice tunnel, down the ramp.

  "This isn't possible," Lena said, shaking her head. "You're dead! I saw you die!"

  "You're right, mommy, I am dead." The footsteps started up again and their pace intensified. "We can be together again. Don't you want to see me again?"

  "Baby..."

  "Don't you baby me! You were never there! Always off with one of your weekend lovers, always spreading your legs, just like Tía always said!"

  "I'm sorry!" Lena broke down, curling into a ball and sobbing into the cement. "I'm so sorry!"

  The footsteps stopped again.

  The smell of death filled the chamber. Lena's eyes slowly rose.

  The bullet wound in Sophi's head was still oozing blood. Her teeth were black. Her eyes, bloodshot. She smiled.

  "Join me in the abyss, mommy!"

  Lena screamed herself awake. She sat up.

  It was dark.

  She patted the cot to ensure that it was there. She vaguely remembered keeping the lights on before her nap.

  Reluctantly, she got up and turned the lights back on.

  She sat there, catching her breath and wiping the sweat from her brow.

  Her head felt heavy, groggy, like she'd overslept. Was it night or day? If it was her turn to take up watch in the check-in station, she'd kindly pass. Not after that nightmare.

  Sophi, she thought.

  "I need a drink," she said.

  5

  Ira let her long johns fall to the pristine tiled floor. She rubbed at her eyes and stretched her aching back. She'd been at it for a few hours, watching video logs and reading log entries from personnel. There was only so much she could take.

  There was a group shower on the same floor as her room. She'd been reluctant to go there alone, but somehow, she found the courage.

  This place, facility, whatever it was called, was lonely, and she couldn't help but feel like there were eyes on her as she approached one of the showers. The fluorescent lighting didn't help much, either. It gave that familiar buzzing that the tunnel lights did, so low and ominous that it was almost like the constant irritation of a fly at the back of her skull, just out of reach.

  It'd been so long since she'd felt hot, running water.

  Part of her almost felt guilty as she turned the nob and let it come steaming out onto her naked body, washing the grime and the dust away.

  It was almost enough to make her forget about what she'd seen.

  It can't be real, she thought.

  The way Daniels spoke. The strange, guttural language.

  She glanced behind herself. There was a rattling sound coming from the walls.

  The pipes were connected to a large water supply that was contained somewhere deep in the facility along with a central boiling unit. It was a limited supply, that much she'd seen in the mainframe files, but the supply would last a decent while, enough that they wouldn't be hurting for water enough to go without showering. At least, she hoped.

  Still she felt eyes on her. She ignored the feeling, knowing that it was only her own paranoia, and soaped the pain and
the dirt and the grime away. She watched it run black and red, circling down the drain.

  6

  Ira came back to the mainframe room with a towel wrapped around her head. She almost felt refreshed.

  She sat in front of her laptop, found the next video log, pressed play.

  "Update on human trials," Doctor Weber said, his words slightly slurred. "We've conducted six experiments so far using my original design, and all six have failed, resulting in some...oddities."

  Weber removed his glasses and attempted to rub away the dark circles beneath his eyes. The gray in his hair had increased since the first video Ira had seen. Even presidents aged slower than this guy.

  "It's no secret that what we're doing here is... unconventional, and they can't understand, can't see what I'm doing for them all. Ungrateful simpletons! The whole lot of them would be frozen corpses if it weren't for me.

  "I'm their savior!

  "If they only knew the burden I've taken on for them, for all of humanity..."

  He paused. His eyes drifted down to a tattered book he was holding. Ira had seen that book in a couple of the experiment videos, sometimes tucked away in one of the doctor's pockets, or clutched tightly in one hand during an experiment.

  "I understand now—" He chuckled. "I know now what the mind's horizon is. I've been reading. Reading so much it hurts sometimes. It is difficult to make them understand without showing them the book. If only they could see.

  "Still. The book is dangerous. Reading it...changed me. It's hard to describe. At first, I tried to record the changes I felt...but I lost track...there's almost a...how can I...it's like another will inside of me."

  He touched his temple. "In here. So deep inside. It wants out. It wants to be known, to be spread..."

  He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Looked around the room. It was almost like she was looking into someone else's eyes.

  "The answer to getting these simpleminded subjects to reach the state the book describes may be...pharmacological. They wouldn't understand if they knew where I gained the knowledge from.

  "We've since concocted a more precise cocktail of hallucinogens and morphine, all to help isolate the body's ability to perceive its surroundings. It's very similar to the effects of a sensory deprivation tank, and in fact, in the next round of tests, we'll be adding the tank to the design framework as well.