by Nick Thacker
“Harvey!” Paulinho shouted. “Please, join us. Julie is here, too.”
Ben felt a wave of relief pass over him. He glanced out toward the parking lot as he started walking through the lobby, but couldn’t see anything other than the brilliant light of the flood lamp. He reached the other side, joining Paulinho and Reggie just as they had turned the corner into the hallway.
Julie rushed forward and grabbed Ben, embracing him. Her laptop bag bounced on her shoulder, swinging along behind her as she ran toward him. Amanda stood behind her, terror in her eyes. Ben thought about saying something, but nothing seemed appropriate. The woman had lost her company, her employees had been murdered, and now it was clear she was being hunted. Nothing Ben could say would do anything to calm her.
He looked again at Julie. “Are you okay?”
“I — I heard everything, and then I looked out, and… I rushed downstairs when it all started.”
He squeezed her, then let go. “I’m fine. Glad you’re okay. Did you see anyone else in the halls?”
“There were a couple of families, and a few other people. We all ducked into our rooms when it started, but I think the hotel’s mostly empty.”
Paulinho introduced Reggie to the group. “This is Reggie, our history expert. He’s also an ex-Army sniper.”
Reggie bowed with a practiced flourish, and grinned. “American Army, in case you were wondering. Glad to meet you. Sorry it’s got to be under these less-than desirable circumstances.”
Ben immediately felt turned off by the man and his cockiness. He was about the same age as Ben, mid-forties by the looks of it, but he hadn’t lost an ounce of his Army-days physique. Chiseled jawline, hardened brow, and the ability to smile with his mouth, yet keep his eyes cold and calculating.
Ben stuck out a hand, preparing for the man’s death grip. It came, and Ben forced himself to keep his expression muted as he felt his fingers and palm being crushed together in the vice grip.
“We owe you our thanks,” Ben said. “I’m not sure we’d be alive without you.”
The man waved off the thanks. “It’s nothing. Just glad Paulinho had the sense to give me a ring before it all went to hell here. I like history, but I really like a good fight.” He turned and looked behind them at the devastation in the lobby. Pieces of ceiling tile and lighting fixtures littered the floor, and dust and chunks of wall continued to fall as they became fully dislodged from the structure. Ben could hear police and ambulance sirens ringing out from the distance, closing in.
“Like I said, though, we should be clearing out. They’ll be back, and I’m guessing they’ll be a little better prepared.”
“Where are we going to go?” Amanda suddenly asked. It was clear what her question really meant: Can we really hide from them?
Reggie considered it a moment. “You’re the girl they’re after, right?”
She nodded. “Amanda Meron,” she said.
“Dr. Amanda Meron,” Paulinho added.
Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Then we just need to hide you . They don’t want anything to do with the rest of us.”
Amanda looked confused. “Excuse me?”
Reggie burst out a laugh. “I’m kidding!” He smiled, surprised for some reason that no one else shared his affection for mildly off-color humor. Ben watched him closely, still not trusting the man that had saved their lives. In an instant, his facial expression changed. His eyes and brow receded back to its prior state of cold nothingness, and the smile was replaced with the look of someone who’d been through enough in life to deserve a serious outlook on it. “Here’s the plan: I’m in charge, at least until we’re clear of these bozos. When I say we’re safe, then — and only then — do we try to figure out what they want with you, Doc.”
Everyone but Ben nodded, and Reggie continued. “However, we do need a destination, so we might as well get somewhere safe that might also help us along. Any ideas? A library? An office?”
Amanda shook her head. “No, just somewhere with a good internet connection. Julie — the laptop?”
Julie’s face brightened a bit. “Right! I forgot all about that.” She swung the laptop bag around and unzipped the top, showing off the silver machine tucked inside. “Here it is.”
Amanda explained to Reggie. “Let’s move out. Anywhere but here. We think Dr. Ortega — one of my employees — was trying to tell us something. I’ll need to access our shared folder from the secure cloud backup site.”
Reggie was already moving down the hallway, but he nodded and motioned for them to follow. “Right on. Sounds good; let’s take the side exit, see if we can’t get out and around the building. I parked over the hill in the parking lot next door, and we can all fit there.”
“What about their stuff?” Paulinho asked.
“Right, and our rental car?” Julie added. Ben and Julie had a rental, but Paulinho and Amanda had driven over in Amanda’s hatchback.
“You won’t need it anymore,” Reggie said, still talking over his shoulder. “Besides, you ever see those movies with the cars that blow up when you turn the key?”
Julie shot a glance at Ben, but he didn’t say anything. This guy’s sick , Ben thought. But he seems to be confident enough to get us through this. And if Ben knew anything about these situations, it was that confidence — if nothing else — just might be enough to carry them through.
Chapter 10
They drove for what seemed like hours, toward Reggie’s self-described “compound.” He wouldn’t give more detail until they’d arrived, but only said that it was where he lived and worked when he wasn’t in the city. When Ben awoke again and looked at the dash clock, he was surprised to see that they had, in fact, driven for nearly two hours. Straight north, almost reaching into the lower basin of the world-famous jungle territory. Most of the drive was pitch black, and Julie and Ben had used the time to catch up on their sleep.
Amanda and Paulinho were on Julie’s laptop, using Reggie’s ad-hoc wireless network from his cellphone to connect the computer to the internet and download the information Dr. Ortega had left for them.
Julie had been right — Dr. Ortega had indeed been trying to tell them something, without the information getting into the wrong hands. He’d meticulously organized the images in the folders into numbered files, then uploaded an explanatory video he’d titled pega-veretas . The video was large, and since the phone had an almost-unusable download speed, they’d been waiting the entire drive to discover what the video and files were all about.
Ben heard a gentle ding as the download finished, and he nudged Julie. She wiped a trickle of drool from the side of her mouth, then looked up at the computer on Amanda’s lap in the front seat.
“It’s done,” Amanda said. Paulinho stretched up in the seat behind Amanda’s, next to Ben, and looked over her shoulder at the screen. “Ready?”
She pressed play before anyone could respond.
“Dr. Meron, if you’re watching this, there is a good chance I am dead. I…” the man in the video, Dr. Juan Ortega, swallowed hard, then clenched his teeth and began again. “I — I’m sorry. Please tell my family that I love them, and… ” He couldn’t finish the statement. “Yes. You know. Well, at approximately 8:55pm, the NARATech facilities were breached and entered by what appears to be a military operation. They immediately shot and killed our two guards on duty, and raced toward the main laboratory section, where I was testing a theory. I was able to move to the conference room and begin uploading this video, along with some of the research that I believe proves my theory.”
The man was analytical, and Ben could tell he was trying to outline the events in as clear and concise way as possible. To him, it must have seemed surreal, but his education and training took over and he tried to keep his voice steady for the camera, providing as much detail as possible that might be useful in the inevitable police investigation that would follow.
“I will try to send a quick update directly to your phone, but it will no doubt be low qual
ity. Since you are watching this video, you’ve obviously seen that video, and the message therein. Here is the entire message: I have a theory about the golden man we have seen in the dreams of the subjects. ‘Pega-veretas’ is a game I play with my daughters. I saw the sticks, and how some of them seemed to point in a certain direction.”
The man paused once more, gathering his thoughts, then continued.
“There is not time to fully describe my thought process, so unfortunately the scientific method will have to wait. ” He smiled. “I’m sure you can understand the results I’ve collected in these folders. ”
The video ended, abruptly, and Ben wondered if there was supposed to be more to it. He almost asked, but Amanda and Paulinho seemed more concerned with the files tucked away in each of the folders .
“What’s the ‘golden man?’ Julie asked.
Paulinho seemed stumped as well, so they all waited for Amanda to respond. When she did, she turned to her left to address all of the small SUV’s occupants.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A man, completely gold-colored, that we’ve been observing.”
“Like watching ?” Paulinho asked.
“Yes, but in our subjects’ dream-states. They have dreams, we observe the dreams and record what video we can, and then discuss the results when they wake up. But in some of our subjects we’re seeing this golden man. He’s always looking directly at us.”
“How is he looking at you?”
“Well, technically it’s an impression from the subject’s subconscious imaging. Their mind is preparing the image of the golden man, and they are preparing it in a way that the man is always looking directly at the subject — what we have been calling the ‘camera.’”
Ben shuddered. The research they were doing at NARATech was even creepier than he’d initially thought. Recording dreams? ‘Watching’ peoples’ memories?
“This golden man has been the subject of much debate in my company for the past month. We couldn’t figure out why he shows up in only some of our patients’ memories, and why the patients themselves have no idea who he is.”
Ben leaned forward in the chair. “Wait a second — the patients don’t know about the golden man?”
Amanda shook her head. “No. They’re completely clueless, and sometimes even argumentative when we show them the playback of the recording. They’re adamant they’ve never seen the man before.”
They sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. They turned left onto a long, dirt road, and Amanda spoke again. “What’s more, our technology isn’t strong enough to clearly transpose all of the electrical signals output by the brain. We generally get close, and we can tell, for example, that a subject is walking down a street, or driving, or at a party, but we can’t see faces clearly, and most objects are blurry shades of light.”
Ben waited for her to say, ‘but.’
“But,” she said, “the golden man — when he shows up — is always perfectly in focus. Every time, without fail. No matter where in the images he appears, he’s perfectly outlined, and we can even see his facial features.”
Ben had almost forgotten that Reggie was in the front seat, driving, until he spoke up.
“Sounds like you’ve stumbled on something worth killing for. I’d say you’re in over your head, but I’m no expert.”
Chapter 11
Julie was shaken, but did her best to keep her fears hidden. If Ben had taught her anything, it was that no good could come from broadcasting your fears and insecurities to the world. She wasn’t sure she completely believed him, but she had to admit that forcing herself to calm down, breathe, and exude confidence instead of weariness was at least helping her keep cool in the situation.
So far, they’d been shot at, nearly blown up, threatened, and chased, and there was no sign that it would stop anytime soon. Julie wanted to go home, to go back to their quaint, beautiful, and simple cabin in the woods deep in the heart of Alaska, but she knew she couldn’t.
As Ben said, there were problems you ran from, and problems you didn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but it always seemed to make sense in the situation. So far they’d only experienced the type of problem you weren’t supposed to run from, and this “problem,” she knew, was also that type of problem.
Ben was probably the most stubborn person she’d ever met, save for her father and grandfather, but Ben was definitely the closest to her. He’d made it his mission to find Drache Global, Drage Medisinsk, or Dragonstone, whomever they might be, and bring them to justice. It was a long shot, and it was likely going to get him killed, but there was nothing she could do to convince him of that.
She’d even tried leaving, but she couldn’t do it. Hours of arguing and slamming doors had taught her that there was nothing that could force them apart, except, ironically, death. It was an interesting game, fighting about something that might lead to death, but being unable to win the game without actually dying.
She thought about that now, as the SUV pulled onto the fourth and final dirt road, this one a long driveway that led to a run-down shack sitting in the middle of nowhere. It was unbelievably small, no more than ten feet wide, and Julie had to do a double-take when she realized it was the only real building in the area.
Surely we’re not going there?
A large hill rose up from behind the house, casting it in an even deeper shadow than the night was able to provide. Set a good distance away from the house, Julie could see a lone light, affixed to a tall pole, gently illuminating a tiny four-walled structure, in a pale yellow glow. This building, too small to be anything more than a simple storage shed, sat next to a long, covered area lined with picnic tables, plastic chairs, and chest-high wooden benches.
“The shooting range is to the left, and the survival course’s main camp is directly behind the house, going up and over the hill.” The man driving, the former Army sniper Paulinho had introduced as Reggie, motioned with his head as he described each station. “We use the range year-round, but I’m only running a winter course right now. Better weather for it, I guess, so people were only signing up then.” He chuckled, then grinned. “Kind of seems pointless to me, to only prepare for the worst during the best time of year.”
He pulled up to the shack, and Julie could see that it was completely dark inside. The only light in the entire area, actually, was the light pole near the shooting range. Reggie put the car in park, then turned to address the occupants inside with him. “Stay here a sec, while I disable the defense system. Shouldn’t be any trouble, but it’s outdated, and I can’t afford an upgrade right now.”
While he said it, he pulled out his phone and opened an app. “Also,” he added, flicking around on the screen of his phone with an outstretched index finger, “let there be light. ”
With a dramatic flourish, he poked at the screen and the entire compound was brilliantly lit up in daylight-bright white light.
Julie involuntarily brought her arm up, shielding her eyes, while Amanda and Paulinho gasped audibly.
Reggie laughed again. “Impressive, no? One of the best home defenses you can invest in is great lighting. Anyone sneaking onto my property in the middle of the night will have to be invisible if they don’t want to be seen.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Actually, I take that back. They’d still be seen. They just wouldn’t know it until the other defenses kicked in.”
No one in the SUV asked what the ‘other defenses’ were, and Julie was partly glad they didn’t. She hadn’t been able to decide if she trusted Reggie or not, though he had been the one who’d saved them from the terrible onslaught at the hotel. Part of her wanted to trust the man, but another part of her seemed to sense the hesitation in Ben, and borrow it from him.
After a minute of playing with his phone, Reggie finally looked up and unlocked the car doors. “Great. I think that’s most of them. Home sweet home.” He pulled the handle and exited the vehicle. Paulinho did as well, followed by Amanda, then Ben a
nd Julie. It felt good to stretch her legs, but she could also feel the fatigue of adrenaline and lack of sleep finally setting in. Whatever the plan was, she hoped it involved sleeping — safely — for a few hours at least.
“Let’s get you all inside, then figure out this ‘golden man’ stuff,” Reggie said. He led the way into the miniature home, the four others trailing behind, still skeptical. He paused at the front door, turning around. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Reggie poked out a sequence of numbers on a tiny numerical lock control mounted above the door handle, and the door clicked and swung open.
Julie reached the door next, followed by Ben and the others, and she stopped at the threshold. Reggie had disappeared.
She stepped a foot into the building and then saw a staircase to her left, strategically hidden from view from outside the house. Reggie popped his head up the stairs. “Come on,” he said. “Ain’t got all night.” The man’s head disappeared again from view, and Julie followed.
The stairs turned once, then opened up a flight below the floor into a strikingly different setting. A basement room, easily three times the size of the main building above her, awaited. A couch, two armchairs, and a well-appointed bar faced her, spaced out nicely against the backdrop of a beautiful, early nineteenth-century English decor. Wallpaper, crisply glued and in perfect condition, covered the three walls she could see, and an arched entryway led further into the dwelling.
“My ex-wife put most of the furnishings in here. I’m a stickler for order and cleanliness, so I probably would have made it look like a hospital room if it were up to me.” Reggie was already behind the bar, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. He swished it around in the glass as the others joined Julie downstairs, and he held it up to them. “You’d actually be surprised at the quality in beverage choices here,” he said. “Good enough to make any American proud.”
