Michael Vey 2

by Richard Paul Evans

  Mrs. Vey just looked at him.

  “Speaking of eating, has anyone told you what you’ve been eating for the past month? Those tasty little biscuits are called Rabisk. They’re made of ground-up rats: meat, fur, and bonemeal.”

  Her stomach churned.

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He walked to the cell door and opened it. “You may come in now.”

  Tara walked in. “Hi, Mrs. Vey.”

  Mrs. Vey looked at her with surprise. “Taylor?”

  Tara smiled. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to help. What Dr. Hatch is doing is wonderful. For all of us.”

  “Have you seen Michael?”

  “Of course.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s great. He’s having a good time.”

  Mrs. Vey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “A good time? Has he asked about me?”

  Tara shook her head. “No. I mean, he knows you’re okay and we’re all just so busy and going places. But I’m sure he’ll find time to visit before too long.”

  Mrs. Vey knew her son better than that. Something was wrong with the situation. Something about the girl’s eyes was different—not the color or shape of her eyes, but something less definable. It was the light in them. Or lack of it.

  “Does Michael still wear the watch you gave him for his birthday?” Mrs. Vey asked.

  Tara hesitated. “Uh, most of the time. Not when he plays basketball or stuff.”

  Mrs. Vey nodded. “So, Taylor. What do your parents think of you leaving home?”

  “They’re really happy for me.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. They’re so proud that I can make a difference in this world.”

  “Even your dad?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Well, you know how schoolteachers worry about kids. Especially their own.”

  “No, he’s good with it all. He’s good.”

  Mrs. Vey stared at her for a moment, then breathed out slowly. “No, he’s not. Your father’s not a schoolteacher, he’s a police officer. And you didn’t give Michael that watch for his birthday. I did.”

  Tara glanced nervously at Dr. Hatch.

  “Who are you and why do you look just like Taylor?” Mrs. Vey asked.

  Hatch slowly shook his head. “It was worth a try. Sharon, this is Tara, Taylor’s lost twin. And she’s going to be your new best friend. Every day until we bring Michael in, she’s going to make your stay a little more . . . interesting. Just like she did for your son.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Tara, Mrs. Vey likes rats. She’s been eating them for weeks now. So, for your first session,” Hatch said, tapping his temple with his index finger, “I think you should give her a few hundred to keep her company.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tara said.

  “Thirty minutes’ worth.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hatch smiled. “Very well. I’ll go now and let you two get better acquainted.”

  * * *

  Hatch walked back to the others, who were still in the theater. “Let’s go,” he said.

  The youths immediately stood, unnoticed by the others in the room. When they were outside the theater, Bryan asked, “How many times do they have to watch that movie?”

  “As many times as they need,” Hatch replied. “A few of these prisoners have seen this particular presentation more than a thousand times. Remember, repetition breeds conviction.

  “When the prisoners are brought in for reeducation, they go through our boot camp, a carefully orchestrated psychological assault guaranteed to drive them to submission or madness. We’ll take either. First they are shown a rat feeding, then told that they will be fed to the rats the next morning. While they await their fate they enter phase one: They are locked naked in a three-by-three cell without food or water. We call this ‘think time’—time for them to contemplate the fragility of their own mortality and their own powerlessness.

  “In their cell there is no sound, no darkness, just a bright light and their impending death. Since there is neither a clock nor contact with the outer world, they do not know when it is night or day, and minutes begin to feel like days. On the third day they are given two cups of water and three Rabisk biscuits. They are told that their fate is still being considered.

  “They then enter phase two. During the next seventy-two hours loud music is piped into their cube, nonstop. We usually choose something primal with a heavy beat, like heavy metal or grunge, as we find that it has a decidedly unsettling effect. Believe me, it works.

  “After those three days comes phase three. The music stops. They are told that due to the mercy of the Elgen and because we believe that they still might be saved, their life has been temporarily spared. This is when their education begins. We start by playing a looped audio presentation we call The Scold. This recording consists of different voices screaming at them, condemning them for their crimes against humanity. After three days of The Scold they are usually reduced to whimpering idiots. They are then invited to confess their crimes, real or imagined.” Hatch grinned. “You’d be surprised what they come up with.

  “They are then reviewed by one of our therapists, and if they are sufficiently penitent, they are moved to a cell and allowed brief interaction with others—in supervised group therapy, of course. It is here that they are given a new identity. They are allowed to confess and seek forgiveness. All this time they are allowed only four hours of sleep a night, and the rest of their time is filled with studying the Elgen plan of forgiveness and our new global order. Every moment is planned, and they become deeply dependent on us. By the end of the process, they belong to the order and we reinforce their condition by allowing them to help reeducate others. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.”

  Tara appeared in the hallway.

  “How did it go?” Hatch asked.

  “Good. She’s strong, but not that strong. She passed out.”

  “Next time tone it back so she experiences the full therapeutic effect.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hatch looked back at the group. “It’s time for dinner. I want you to go to bed at a reasonable hour. The guards begin arriving early tomorrow. We have a special few days ahead, and I want you at your best for all of it. This is the time for you to show them who you are.” Hatch smiled. “My eagles.”

  The next morning the Elgen guards began arriving from the thirty-eight Starxource plants around the globe. There were more than two thousand Elgen guards worldwide, and they made up an fierce, well-trained, and well-equipped security force.

  They were met at the airport by Hatch’s Peruvian guards. The men were disarmed, then led immediately into orientation.

  One of Hatch’s Elite Guards informed him of the first arrival. “The guards are arriving, sir.”

  “How many?”

  “Three buses, a hundred and forty-seven men.”

  “What condition are they in?”

  “Exhausted.”

  “Good,” he said. “Don’t let them sleep.”

  “A few have already lain on the ground.”

  “Then get them up and run them. Has there been any insubordination?”

  “Some.”

  “Good,” Hatch said. “We need examples. Arrest them. We’ll be showcasing them tonight. You know my plans, make sure they are followed to the letter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hatch had organized the guards’ flights to be as long and tiring as possible, so they would be exhausted upon arrival. When the guards landed, they were also given drinks lightly laced with Trazodone, a mild antidepressant that is often used as a sleep aid, causing drowsiness, light-headedness, and confusion. Hatch’s plan was first to break the men down physically through drugs, labor, lack of sleep, and hunger. Then, when they were near collapse, he’d break them mentally. In their wea
kened condition, the guards would reveal their true loyalties and Hatch would divide them into “sheep” and “goats.” The sheep, those who would enthusiastically follow Hatch, he would train and advance to leadership rank, repositioning them to take control of Starxource plants or Elgen compounds. The goats, or those who did not cooperate, would be reeducated. If after several weeks they were still troublesome, he would extinguish them. There was no room for defiance.

  Upon their arrival, the guards were put to work digging a large trench on the far side of the ranch. The trench had absolutely no purpose but to keep the men working. When darkness fell, the exhausted guards were driven back to the compound and assigned to their barracks. They were instructed to put on their guard uniforms and report to the mess hall for dinner.

  The men were served small meals; peas and carrots, salad, and cuy—a local Peruvian delicacy of fried guinea pig. Many of the men complained about the food, and there was a small uprising at one table that was immediately quelled by the Peruvian guards. The two most demonstrative protestors were arrested and taken away.

  At 9:00 p.m. the men were sent back to their barracks and told to sleep, as their day would begin early the next morning. It was only a ruse, as less than two hours later a shrill buzzer rang throughout the compound and all lights came on. Armed Peruvian guards walked into each barrack, waking the men and marching them to the assembly hall, where they were told to stand quietly at attention in front of metal chairs. A few more complained of their treatment and were quickly taken away by the Peruvian guards.

  The room they had been congregated in was large enough to hold all two thousand men. The metal chairs faced a raised stage at the front of the hall. There was a podium in the middle of the stage flanked by twelve guards, six on each side, dressed in black, with purple and scarlet chest emblems and armbands on the right arm. The Elgen logo was projected on the screen behind them in letters twenty feet high. At exactly midnight a loud bell sounded and the guard to the right of the podium walked up to the microphone.

  “Elgen Force. Salute.”

  The men gave the Elgen salute.

  “The weak among you may sit.”

  The men looked at one another. A few sat—collapsed, really—but most, in spite of their exhaustion, remained standing.

  “Many of you have flown from halfway around the world. I have heard complaints from the weak that you are tired. I would expect such complaints from weaker men. But you are not men. You are Elgen.”

  This was followed by applause among the standing.

  “It is my distinct privilege to bring to this stage our supreme commander and president. A true visionary the world will someday acknowledge. The weak who are sitting will rise with the strong for President C. J. Hatch.”

  The room broke into applause as Quentin and Torstyn walked onto the stage, taking their places on each side of the podium, in front of the Elite Guards. Then Hatch walked in from the side of the stage to the podium. The guard who had introduced Hatch quickly stepped back as he approached. Hatch saluted him, then stepped up to the microphone. The audience stilled while he looked them over.

  Hatch spoke in a soft voice. “Sit down. Sit down, please. All of you.” He waited for everyone to sit. “Greetings, my friends. It is just past midnight. A new day, literally and figuratively. Today is the beginning of a new day for each of you. When you came into our employment you were fully aware that this was not merely a job but a cause far greater than any mission you ever will have or ever will bear—a cause of greater importance than even your own life. Today the fullness of our cause is revealed. Today you will begin to understand the depth of our campaign and the level of your own commitment. Yesterday you were mere men. Today you are Elgen.”

  The hall echoed with loud applause.

  “The sleeping minions of this world may not have heard of the Elgen yet. But they will.”

  More applause.

  “The sleeping minions of this world may not yet be trembling at the mention of our name and power. But they will.”

  More applause.

  Hatch pounded the podium furiously. “Presidents, prime ministers, and kings may not be bowing to us yet, but mark my words—they will.”

  The audience rose to their feet in wild applause.

  “I now introduce the new order. These soldiers standing next to me, wearing the Elgen uniform of purple and scarlet, are my Elite Global Guard. You will refer to them as the Elite Guard. You may have noticed that their acronym is EGG. Like eggs, there are a dozen of them. Only I will affectionately refer to them as my EGGs. You will not.

  “You will obey their commands as if they came from me. To disobey their orders is tantamount to disobeying me.

  “In the first three rows, directly beneath the Elite Guard, wearing scarlet armbands, are the Zone Captains. The ZCs are the leaders of a global zone of Squad Captains.

  “Now hear me and hear me well. Your previous chain of command no longer exists. From this moment on, you will no longer take orders from weak-bodied scientists and weak-minded bureaucrats!”

  Hatch’s pronouncement was met with loud applause.

  “You will answer only to me, the EGGs, your Zone Captains, and, most often, your Squad Captain. Squad Captains wear the purple Elgen uniform and are responsible for each and every one of the members within their squad, which will number between six and twelve. Let me repeat the hierarchy. Your Squad Captain will answer to a Zone Captain, who will answer to one of the twelve Elite, who answer only to me.

  “In addition to your Squad Captains, there will be one or two Elgen Secret Police, known to us as ESP, in each squad. These men are primarily informants. You will not know who they are. This force constitutes the eyes and ears of our organization and will communicate directly with the Zone Captains and, if necessary, the Elite Guard. Any sign of insubordination within a squad will be dealt with swiftly and severely.

  “It’s a brave new world, gentlemen. Those of you who are with me will prosper far beyond your wildest imaginations. Governors and magistrates will bow at your feet and clean your boots with their tongues.” His voice lowered threateningly. “But those who defy me will learn suffering they never imagined possible. I would like to demonstrate what I mean. You are all familiar with the Starxource energy grid. Captain Welch, please take us live to the bowl.”

  The image on the screen behind Hatch changed, revealing a close-up of the bowl’s chute, which had already started moving out from the wall. When the chute reached its extremity, the door in the wall opened. A man’s black boot appeared, followed by the rest of his body as he was pushed out and the door shut behind him. The guard was fully dressed in Elgen uniform and bound at his legs and wrists. As the chute lowered, he desperately tried to hold on to the sides of the chute, but it was impossible. He slid on the metal rollers to the bottom of the chute, where he was caught by the cog, which was hanging just a few yards from the grid.

  Within seconds the guard was covered with rats. His amplified screaming echoed through the entire hall for less than a minute, leaving the men silent. After just ninety seconds the man’s skeleton was ejected from the chute. The camera zoomed in on the shredded uniform and the bone remains of the guard.

  “They go much quicker than the bulls, don’t they?” Hatch said without emotion.

  The room was silent as Hatch looked over the audience. Hatch nodded to one of the guards, and three men dressed in pink girls’ party dresses were led out, bound and shackled. Their mouths and chins were covered with tape. They all had large bows on their heads.

  “Cute, aren’t they?” Hatch said.

  The men in the audience laughed loudly.

  “These so-called men arrived at our conference with the wrong attitude. How unfortunate for them. They will not leave us with those attitudes, simply because they will not be leaving us at all. If you once knew these men, you will be doing yourself a favor to disassociate with them, as they are traitors and fools. And they are part of tomorrow’s entertainment
, for they are all headed to the chute. But first you will be allowed the privilege of letting them know how you feel about traitors.

  “Elgen Force, do not make their fate yours. Over the next two weeks we are going to introduce a new food group to our rodents’ diet. Every day, for the next fourteen days, one of you will meet these men’s fate. One of you each day.”

  The men were all silent, none daring to move or speak.

  “We will select our fourteen ‘meals’ by monitoring your level of cooperation and performance. Each day we’ll nominate three of you, but only one of you will be chosen, and that will be my decision. If you are nominated twice, then you will automatically be selected. Our informants are already in place. From this moment on, anything and everything you say and do will be used for or against you.”

  Hatch paused for emphasis. “If you think you can beat this system, think again. For those among you who have seditious thoughts, remember that the friend you invite to join you will rejoice in your treachery, because, and excuse the pun, to ‘rat out’ a disloyal guard is the fastest way to ensure your own survival.

  “Each of you will be given a new Elgen rule book. It looks like this.” Hatch held up a navy book with gold embossing. “This is your new Bible. It is only thirty-six pages long. Over the next five days you are to memorize the entire book. Every line. Every word. And yes, there will be a test. Two of them. The two guards with the lowest score will automatically be included as two of the fourteen meals. So, for your sake, I recommend that you know the book well.”

  Hatch nodded to one of the EGGs standing by the side of the stage. The guard saluted, then gave a hand signal, and twelve other guards—the ESP Captains—walked to the front of the stage. They wore scarlet berets and sashes across their chests.