The Good Death Box Set: A Hard SciFi Science Fiction Series

by Doug McGovern

  “You are all liars! I can see! I see it! Everything!”

  She gnashed her teeth as blood welled over the edges of her mouth.

  “Oh, what was that, darling? Yes, that’s right. You’re suffering from the ultimate failure of performance enhancers. The collective consciousness stimulant. Care to explain it for us, Elder Doctor Kingsley?”

  Kingsley looked at his father who had gone gray around the lips. He wrung his hands and swallowed.

  “Kelley Pharmaceutical Enterprises contracted with me to be their project’s consulting physician some 30 years ago when Old Man Kelley still called the shots. Originally, we were testing rare biochemical extracts from exotic animals that were being discovered all over random sites of the Globe. Our initial intention was to mass produce performance enhancers and healing accelerators for the CIA, the USMC, and even the NFL. Anyone who’d buy them for highly demanding physical jobs that would require rapid wound cure. Over time, we got this crazy idea that we could actually cure autoimmune deficiency with certain drugs. We began to experiment with biochemical extracts that caused the human brain to actually produce neurogenesis— that is, making more brain cells— to a level equal to and greater than prenatal neurogenesis…” Joseph paused.

  “A delicious tale. Do go on!” Leona was pulling no punches. Tonight the truth would be laid bare. Kingsley would understand just how deep the pool was that he’d stepped both feet into.

  “Extravagance is a great downfall of the current generation. We thought that more would be better. The biochemical stimulants we were developing caused the human hippocampus— that’s the part of the brain that processes memory, learning and emotions— to double and even triple their regular neurogenesis. It was my belief that the human brain could actually ‘learn’ to overcome any disease. We were experimenting with teaching the neurons to program ‘curricular cells.’ Smart blocks of cells that would actually send kind of ‘fire drill’ signals of autoimmune deficiency to respective parts of the neurological system so that the neurological system would develop ‘auto-corrective immunity’.” Joseph hung his head in shame.

  “Ah, yes, see Lucien, he admits it. Extravagance has been the downfall of our entire enterprise. We lived lavishly and beyond our means, believing that these drugs were fool-proof, fail-safe elixirs. We had uncovered the fountain of youth and were on our way to curing death, for God’s sake! It was a dream of foolish boys. Far too good to last. The drugs began to work for a time. They actually briefly cured the once cavalier Harrison here of AIDS. We kept it a secret, wanting to perfect the serum. It was Joseph always wanting to be sure that Harry here was truthfully cured of his secret battle with the demeaning disease. Three months of continued injections and there was a significant change in the way Harry’s brain responded to them.’ Leona giggled and tried to gather Jane, who was collapsing up to a standing position.

  “I, Joseph Kelley, had discovered a pharmaceutical cure for AIDS. In the process of testing it, I gave Lucien Lou Gehrig’s disease. His muscles began to deteriorate. The lateral sections of his spine responded harshly to the continued exposure of the extract. He’d become a neurogenesis junkie. By feeding the cell spawning of certain realms of his brain, I had completely robbed other realms of healthy stimulus…” Joseph shook his head, abhorred by his own failure.

  “Which is where I decided to pick up the baton. I had to wait until the opportune moment of course so that I could pass for the desperate widow-to-be. I wasn’t certain what exactly it would do, but I knew I could use one of Kingsley’s failed extracts to euthanize my husband, reap the attention his death would bring my grief, and pin his murder on Kingsley Sr. and Son. It’s why I solicited you in the bar, Lucien. No special knowledge or magic tricks there. I just have road-eyes and happened to be well acquainted with your father.” Leona gritted her teeth in a painful smile.

  Kingsley felt himself growing faint. He’d been duped in every way that was possible. What was worse, he’d gotten Jane involved in all of this. Jane, who had been the only person he’d ever known with enough courage to stand up to him. Jane, who was kind to him in public anyway, despite his abusive behavior towards her at work. She’d stayed at his side even in his continuous ranting and failed to press charges on his alarming regular physical attacks for the love of their patients and their struggling hospital.

  Jane Lewis, for all their rivalry, was probably the closest Lucien Kingsley had ever come to having a real friend. He had killed her. Leona may have pulled the trigger, but her blood was on his hands. The visitation would never cease until he too was dust.

  “You liars! I see! This…I can hear the thoughts of other people…I can feel their pain! You betrayed them and sold them to the Bosses, ach!” Jane’s fingers were bleeding now she clawed so hard at Leona’s arms.

  “Yes, that’s just your serum talking, dear girl. You see a collective conscious serum is a drug that records the neurotransmission processes of other test subjects in the chemical itself which somehow retains digital properties. Then it transmits the response of other specific brainwaves into the midst of your own delicately balanced system. Do this with two or three people, there’s no trouble. It’s sort of like a cranial chat room in that respect. Do it with legions of people who were tormented and dying when I took the sample and well…” Leona giggled. Kingsley stopped short. He’d meant to charge her in a blind rage, but now he held back. It was dizzying. He had no idea how to proceed.

  “You want to hang the blame on someone? Pin it on murderous drunken thieves like Lucien over here…” Leona’s whispering incited a confused rage in the once easy-going young Jane. She screamed a bird-like cry of pain and terror. Twisted away from Leona and pounced on Kingsley.

  He felt the girl grappled him and throw him across the room with the strength of three fully developed men. Now he understood what he’d been doing to her for weeks on end. Electrical discharge from lab machinery bit into his skin. He hissed and eased himself up on his hands.

  He would have expected himself to react in a blind rage, but that wasn’t the case. Tonight had been one episode after the other in the humbling of Lucien Kingsley. The menace had now become the menaced. He rolled over and covered his face with his hands as Jane dove on him with her blood dribbling fingers.

  *****

  Chapter 16

  Dexter’s heart was echoing like a muzzle loader off the walls of his ribcage. He was sure Ivy and Lindsey could probably hear it from where they crouched on the van’s floor, covered in blankets and boxes as a crude hiding place, struggling to breathe.

  “Jane hasn’t texted!” said Ivy. “It’s been over an hour. She’s in trouble. Of course, she’s in trouble! But how bad? Is she okay? Dex is Jane going to be okay?!” Ivy was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  They rolled up the Armory’s drive. One of the guardsmen came running to them.

  “When we get to her, I promise, it’ll be okay.” Dexter felt like throwing up. He had no right to get her hopes up like that. For all he knew, Jane could be dead already.

  An image of the feisty blonde flashed through his head with the same ultra-bright painful glow as summer lightning storms. He could see her laughing with a banana peel balanced on her nose. Right, it was part of their “breakfast experiment” one morning after a grueling shift at Caddo Vitality. He shook his head, trying to silence her cheerful laughter in his mind’s viewfinder. He couldn’t allow himself to think of her as just a fond memory. Not yet.

  The soldier in blue-and-gray urban camouflage and a jaunty beret came to a skidding stop on his boot heels and leaned into Dexter’s window.

  “Sir, ladies. I’m Captain Derek Matheson. I’ll be assisting you in the Shreveport Evac. I would like to acknowledge that, while I will require your full cooperation in this unique situation, you will be put at no unnecessary risks in the City cool-down. Mainly, I just need you to drive.” Matheson smiled trying to take the edge off this situation.

  A towering soldier came running up behind the
Captain and saluted. Captain Matheson pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

  “This is Sergeant Leaf Manson. He’s here to wave guns around and look pretty.” Matheson winked and rolled his eyes.

  “At ease, pretty boy.” He clapped the Sergeant on the shoulder and the taller man smiled.

  “We’re getting radio silence now.” Manson shook his head, swallowing to steel his nerves. Whatever that meant it wasn’t good.

  “Okay. What about the girl?”

  “MIA as far as we know, sir. No further intel past the last 15 minutes of intercepted cross-talk in the CB lines.” Manson gritted his teeth, trying to force a smile for panicking young Ivy’s sake.

  “To hell with the Sunday morning paper, eh, Leaf? Right, so we’ve got to break this Carnival down at a gypsy’s trot. Saddle up the boys. The kid might need a medic.” The Captain indicated with his head that he meant Ivy, who was now hyperventilating.

  “Roger that, sir.” Manson saluted and took off into a peeling run.

  Matheson swung himself up through one of the van’s windows. He landed on his knees in the back and took Ivy’s shoulders.

  “Okay, kid, I’m going to need you to calm down. What’s your name?” The soldier smiled, trying to make this easier.

  “My friend! I think— oh God, she’s dead! I’m sure she’s dead!” Ivy flailed her hands in a frenzy.

  “Don’t say that! She’s not!” Lindsey beat her fist into the back of Dexter’s seat.

  “Easy! Easy, guys. We don’t know that. Nobody knows anything for sure, okay? Shortly after the smoke started rolling, me and the boys got suspicious and fired up the CB radios ourselves. We’ve been aware of the situation for about 10 minutes before your call came in. We’ve prepared a fully operational unit to move and we’re ready to go. I need you to make yourselves mentally ready to go with me on this, alright? See, if we want to get your friend back, then we’ve got to keep our heads straight. She might not be dead. If we panic, though, we could get her killed.”

  Captain Matheson grabbed Ivy’s shoulders and looked down into her face. The light hit his deep-green eyes making them appear almost yellow. Ivy was transfixed for a moment. She swallowed and nodded.

  “Cool,” the Captain continued. “Okay, so basically you guys are responsible for giving us a general locale of where your friend might be. We normally wouldn’t even bring you into the firing zone like this. It’s just bad practice, but this is a desperate situation which happens less than once in never.” The Captain smiled sheepishly and nodded, patting Ivy on the back.

  Sergeant Manson reappeared, shouldering a tripod and an MG3.

  “This is one of those situations the calls for busting El Sharko out of the glass display. Right, Leaf?” The Captain laughed with a smug smile.

  “What’s the point in having a WW2 exhibit if we never put the old weapons to active use, sir?” Manson set the tripod up in the back of the van.

  “These doors slide open right, kid?” The Sergeant turned to Ivy, whose eyes had grown globe-sized.

  “Umm, yeah. Yeah, you just— the handle right there.” She nodded and lifted a shaking hand to point.

  “No reason to be afraid of the gun, kid. It’s only as dangerous as the person behind the trigger. I’m not going to let you get hurt.” The Sergeant smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  A girl that looked no older than Jane dressed in the GI issued fatigues came running up to them at a Ballroom Blitz clip.

  “Sirs!” She saluted both of them.

  “At ease, Private.” The Captain swallowed anxiously.

  “We’ve got radio again. I have intel on the pursued female, being identified now as Jane Lewis, RN. The position is difficult to transpose, sir. It’s almost like the building is coded against GPS. We hear sounds of struggle and have confirmed two male voices and one other female present at the scene.” The Private’s eyes were the size of silver dollar pieces.

  “I actually know where that is!” Dexter turned around. The Captain sat up to take notice.

  “Alright, man, let’s hear it!”

  “The cancer research center. I thought it was just a rumor, but they’ve got a fancy new lab everybody says is supposed to be coded to like CIA security.” Dexter shrugged because he wasn’t actually certain that this wasn’t just a rumor.

  “Okay, well, with the situation you claim is going down that would be the most logical place for them to rendezvous. I’ll need you to debrief me with a few more details while we drive there. Sarge, you’ve got eyes on the back and skies. Private, might as well load up with us and set your sights. We were trained for war on the ground, kids. We’ve got this in the bag!”

  Sergeant Manson leaned down and hauled the Private through the window.

  “Got your pistol, Cary?” He smirked, pulling an old Colt 45 out of the front of his coat.

  “Well, your habit for smuggling the museum display off Amory grounds is finally starting to pay off!” Cary took the pistol eagerly. The Humvees began to roll up.

  “Hiya, I’m Mickey. They told me you might need a medic?” Another soldier had popped through the shotgun window, a medical kit in tow. She could pass for Ivy’s sister and had a laughing look in her eyes, despite this terrible situation. Giving Ivy’s arm a gentle shake, she popped her case open.

  “Wouldn’t think so, as I’m surrounded by nurses, but yeah, one more couldn’t hurt!” Ivy was finally beginning to calm down.

  *****

  Chapter 17

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Jane!”

  That was the only thing that Kingsley could think to say as the girl came bearing down upon him. Her bleeding fingers came snatching for his throat. She tore at him with 10 men’s strength. But the life was gone from her eyes.

  Kingsley regretted all that he had done to her. In the two years that he had been her senior physician he’d caused her nothing but pain. How many times had he taken a swing at her? How many times over did he deserve this?

  He was stupid, selfish, and calloused. He’d never truly thought about harming her. He’d only ever acted out of blind rage. Now he was responsible for her death and worse. The weird phenomenon that had afflicted Harrison had now reached Jane as well. She had no pulse or respiration. Her eyes were glassed over. She was dead, but somehow her body was animated by some force beyond herself.

  But unlike Harrison, Jane’s speech wasn’t hindered. In death she was furious.

  “You gave her the power! You did this! You betrayed our blood!”

  “I’m sorry…” Kingsley covered his face. She crushed his throat with one hand. Her fingers became pinchers and crushed his wrist. He felt blackness gathering around his eyes. This was how he would end.

  After what he’d done, it was mercy.

  “You fool! You sold them to her! Millions! Don’t you know what she means to do with it? What kind of horrible end? Hundreds and thousands of them slaughtered! Only a matter of time. Lucien Kingsley, the man who sold his soul for a fancy cocktail!” Jane’s spit was beginning to foam and turn purple with blood from her rupturing arteries.

  “Jane!” Her hands slackened from Kingsley’s throat for just long enough for him to croak out her name.

  “You clueless idiot! She’s going to sell it. Making more than millions. She’ll have a front row seat while humanity tears itself apart!” Jane started to choke, which was bizarre as she no longer breathed to begin with. Her milky eyes were wide with something horrible that she could see in the dream chambers of whatever remained of her mind. She began to sob, as her eyes grew wider. Troubled more so now by her vision than by her rage towards Kingsley, she let go.

  “The whole world, you hopeless fool! How to murder the whole world? There are many places that armies cannot reach. But everybody has to drink. Poison the water or the air. Maybe both? This is how you murder the world…This is what she’s going to sell.”

  Kingsley took Jane’s quaking arms. Her cold skin alarmed him.

  “Maybe I can set o
ne thing, right? You and Harrison. Reverse this, whatever this is.”

  Jane’s palm came up and crushed his chin in a goddess’s grip.

  “Give a little boy a match and he can burn a whole city. Look what you’ve done. My God, what have you done?” Her words were toneless and quiet. It was far more cutting than any time she’d ever shouted at him for his riotous lifestyle.

  Kingsley felt tears form in his eyes to his great alarm. He’d always prided himself on his machismo. Now he would cry like a chastised child for the things he’d let get out of his hands. All of the good deeds he could ever do for the rest of his life would never undo what he had done. It was too late. He was lost.

  “Come on, girl. Let me at least try.” Kingsley used his last strength to overpower Jane. Her will had evaporated anyway. Her lively spirit drifted farther away from her frozen body with every moment. Kingsley gripped Jane’s arm and pulled her toward a series of lab tables surrounded by IV drips, electrodes, vials of chemicals— the whole nine mad-scientist yards.

  “Dad!” Kingsley had looked up at that same moment to see that Leona and Joseph locked in a deadly waltz around the room. Leona’s straight razor slashed the air. In desperation, Joseph had armed himself with a crystal beaker. He smashed it against Leona’s head. It broke into many pieces that littered the floor. The thickest piece served as a dagger to protect him from her onslaught.

  “Busy at the moment, kiddo!” Joseph’s voice trembled above the singing blades.

  “Can any of these serums reverse what I’ve done?” Kingsley began to scramble through the various potions that littered the tables.

  “There is one that might. Under encryption!” Joseph shouted as he dodged Leona’s blade. “In the safe against the back wall. I have the code. As you can see, I can’t come to the phone. Maybe you would like to take a message for me?”