Dark Crypto (Thorne Inc. Book 1)

by Neil Mosspark

  Her brain was still trying to understand how something could exist inside such a flat surface when Grant purposefully kicked a loose chunk of stone.

  It lifted from the ground, flew through the air and with a yellow, orange flicker appeared beyond the field. Ripples of what could only be described as flame flickered. The stone ricocheted off of a container beyond the transparent barrier, sending it spinning.

  “It worked, Doc!” Grant laughed.

  “As expected,” Dr. Gerrard stated matter-of-factly as he continued adjusting and monitoring the energy flow. “It looks stable.”

  Olivia sneered at Grant; his eyes gazed into the abyss, watching the containers slide by. Working quickly, she flicked the ceramic vertically and began sawing at the bonds. She was disposable, and she knew it. Once across the barrier, she was as good as dead. Even if she lived, it was unlikely they would try to retrieve her. She didn’t even know if there was air on the other side.

  Grant tightened the grip on her neck again. “Time to fly, canary.” A massive shove sent her the last foot to the barrier. The cuffs dropped away as he pushed her. Spinning she grabbed his arm to draw him in for a strike with the ceramic edge, but her weight already was being drawn in by the push. She gulped air into her lungs instinctively, like a diver jumping into a pool.

  The velocity of her light frame yanked hard on his body and drew him across with her.

  Vertigo filled her head as the gravity dissipated and she tumbled. Her feet and hands reached out to grab anything that would stabilize the spin. It felt like falling.

  Gasping at the sensation, she felt the atmosphere fill her lungs, choking her. It felt like burning fluid in her chest. She coughed and spasmed. Holding her breath seemed to help keep the burning sensation outside of her body.

  A floating box hit her with its broad side in the space between her shoulder blades. The tumbling stopped, but the vertigo did not. She could see the doorway that they had passed through was upside down relative to her.

  Flailing caught her eye.

  Next to her, Grant was orienting himself by using the floating debris. Around them, the air seemed alive with fire. Her skin began to itch, and a burning sensation was growing. Looking at her hands, she could see her watch sending off a steady stream of vapor that expanded around her wrist.

  The very atmosphere was breaking things down around her. The plastic loop holding the gag in around her mouth relaxed. Spitting out the fabric, she scanned around her for any way of escape.

  Her eyes landed on Grant. His clothing was starting to give off a cloud of particles.

  His hand drew a pistol angrily. In this low gravity, it was likely to send him careening off wildly, but he had figured out the physics before she had.

  Twisting, he pointed the gun toward the back of the room and fired. The explosion of noise seemed to agitate the very air they were floating in. The painless flames that licked at their bodies scattered and spun, condensing like a swarm of orange yellow bees. She could see that they were like wisps of orange smoke, curling in and forming on each other. Like a smoke made of translucent fireflies, they spun and coalesced into three forms, each solidifying into bundles of angry fire the size of a man, but with little to no shape.

  Grant was moving toward the open door, and he corrected by firing again. The three forms spun and weaved, flowing through the room like dolphins would swim around a floating school of fish.

  Olivia could feel her chances of escape diminishing. If Grant exited the room before her, she was a sitting duck and as good as dead. If she stayed in here, she would likely suffocate. Twisting her body, she tightened her grip on the box next to her. Placing her feet against it, she braced to kick off.

  One of the swarms of fire spun angrily around the box she had taken hold of. It wrapped around her hands and feet. The material of her shoes began to disintegrate, and her hands burned.

  More out of survival than pain, Olivia kicked away hard, and the box, along with the swarm, floated toward the back of the dark room. She felt herself shift and begin floating toward the door.

  As she had a thousand times before, she streamlined herself like a skydiver, trying to gain speed through the air. Her lungs began to crave oxygen as she saw another smaller floating container. She reached out, realizing that it was another opportunity to increase her thrust. Grabbing at it, she flung it to the back of the room, propelling her harder toward the door. Grant was parallel to her, and he could see what she was doing.

  Leveling the pistol at her, he fired. The first round zipped by her with a crack, ricocheting off of a container and then the wall. His body began a slow spin drifting away from her. As he rotated, Grant took longer to line her up in his sights this time. He fired. His aim was true, but she was farther ahead, and the thick atmosphere dragged on the bullet. The round struck in her calf with the force of a heavyweight boxer. Olivia emptied her lungs in a painful scream. The thick atmosphere filled them as she gulped. The torn tissue vented, spattering blood against the wall near her. Her own blood began to dissipate in curling wafts of smoke.

  Looking toward the door, she could see the two guards standing and watching. She was inverted, and it appeared to her that they were standing on the ceiling. The slow drift toward the door had turned into a drift toward the nearby wall. Although she was only fifteen feet or so from the door, her dimming vision and tingling limbs were telling her that she was becoming hypoxic. Soon her brain would give up.

  The cool metal of the wall pressed against her for a moment as she bounced. At the last minute, she realized the advantage and kicked hard against it, extending the foot of her good leg, trying to get traction against the smooth surface.

  Darkness began to surround her as the explosion of rounds pattered near her body. The guards were shooting at her. She couldn’t see it. Tucking tightly, she felt her skin burning and could swear the smell of burning hair was filling her nose.

  Light surrounded her. The intensity hurt her eyes, even though the lids were closed. Driving her face into the crook of her elbow barely helped. The sensation of increased momentum caught her off guard, and her weakening limbs rag dolled as she unfurled.

  Disoriented, she felt the burning sensation abate as she was ejected from the room. Cruel gravity returned, spilling her headlong onto the floor. The humid atmosphere of the Quarantine Zone washed over her, and she gasped deeply. Lying on the floor, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, she gulped at the oxygen-rich air. The blurring and dim vision returned to normal.

  The two guards stood over top of her and rolled her onto her chest. She fought weakly, but her limbs felt like rubber. A knee pressed against her neck while another knelt on her back, crushing the air out of her lungs while it pinned her to the floor. His hand grabbed one of her wrists holding it tightly

  “He’s way in the back,” one of the guards stated. “How are we going to get him out?”

  “He should have some rounds left,” said the other.

  Boxes and metal objects disturbed by Grant’s motion began raining to the ground outside of the barrier, landing on the floor like the coins from a slot machine.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s payday!” yelled the man who was holding her down. “We’re gonna be rich either way.”

  Amid the raining boxes and debris, a familiar sound caught her ear. A clatter across the floor near her head. Olivia looked up. Her piece of sharp ceramic lay only a foot away from her face. Seizing the moment, she snatched it up with her free hand. Gripping hard, she swung it behind her back toward the guard's kneecap.

  The edge found the front of the joint, tearing into the tendons and muscles. She heard a pop as it carved open the tendon holding his kneecap. Screaming, he fell to the floor next to her, releasing her. Olivia rolled on top of him, reaching for the holstered pistol. The man was in such agony that he barely registered his own weapon being drawn.

  Rolling off the screaming man, she landed on her side. The guard standing over her hesitated as he tr
ied to understand how the tables had turned. Her first trigger pull sent a round past the standing guard’s head. The man flinched and fired his suppressed submachine gun wildly, peppering the ground near her. Olivia’s second shot boomed, hammering a round on target. The effect was instant as lead punched under his neck and exited out the back of his cranium. The body crumpled to the floor in a heap.

  The man she was half lying on was still screaming. She rolled off him and onto her stomach. She couldn’t see Dr. Gerrard or Anita, but the pistol remained leveled at the barricade of containers.

  Forcing herself to a standing position, she stood on her good leg and hobbled forward.

  “Put your weapon down.” Gerrard’s voice came from behind the crates.

  “Not likely, Doc,” she yelled out, limping forward as blood pattered from her wound onto the floor.

  “I’ll kill her!” he threatened.

  She could hear the fear in his voice. It mixed with Anita’s, filling the room with its cowardly stench. Olivia stepped around the corner, leveling the pistol at the location of the voice. She could see Gerrard holding a gun to Anita’s head.

  “I’ll do it. I swear. Put your gun down, and she lives.”

  Olivia stood there watching him. “Anita? Are you okay?”

  Anita’s head lolled like a rag doll. “I can’t feel anything.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Olivia could see that blood had begun to leak from her nose.

  “What’s happening to her?”

  “She’s dying. It’s killing her. I can make it stop, or I can kill her. Your choice.”

  “Would you kill her?” Olivia asked outright. She looked at the man’s face hard, breathing in the faint pheromones swirling around him.

  “Yes.” He pressed the gun against Anita’s temple.

  It was the truth, Olivia knew it.

  “I’ll tell you what, Doc. I’ll let you shoot yourself in the head. It’s an honorable death. It would make up for all of the horrors you put those little girls through.”

  “I’m not the one at a disadvantage. I’m getting out of here with what I came for. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

  "It's just a flesh wound. I'm fine. Thanks for worrying." Olivia tried to shift her weight for a better shot, and the man lifted Anita’s body to better cover his own. She could tell he believed it.

  “Where you going to go, Doc? I’m not moving. How many options do you have left? You kill her, and you lose everything you worked for. I have the advantage. Are you too stupid to see that?” She baited him. She wanted him to shift his weight, open up an opportunity for her to take the shot.

  “You’re the one who’s going to die here!” he screamed, pulling the gun away from Anita’s head. His body remained perfectly silhouetted as he trained the weapon on her.

  The gun bucked in Olivia's hand once.

  Blood exploded against the wall, and Anita’s body slid to the floor.

  Dr. Gerrard’s hand was dissolved into bits of bone and tendons. He stared at it and then dropped to his knees. The gun hung from the trigger finger. Olivia felt moisture on her ear and reached up with her free hand. A small section of her ear had been grazed.

  Blood poured from Dr. Gerrard’s hand.

  Olivia shuffled forward and reached down to undo his belt. His face was white with fear, and his mouth opened and closed with the shock like a fish out of water. She pulled hard on the buckle, and the loop of leather came free. It only took a moment to wrap it near the bottom of the man’s bicep. Olivia tightened it, staunching the flow of blood. For a moment she considered just letting the mad scientist just bleed out. “Keep pressure here.” She reluctantly grabbed the doctor’s good hand and placed it on the mangled wound.

  Turning to the blindfolded woman, she lifted Anita's limp body. “Anita. I need you to close the door. Can you do that?

  “Yes...” she said weakly. “I’m very deep... A few minutes left.”

  Olivia realized that the boxes had fallen out of the doorway. If what Mr. Grey had said was true, none of the boxes ever needed to come out.

  “I just have to push the boxes back into the ... whatever the hell it is. You need to get ready to close it, but don’t do it yet.”

  Olivia knelt over her. Aside from the bleeding nose, the doctor looked like she was sleeping. Olivia brushed strands of the woman’s hair away from her cheek. The steady but slow rise and fall of Anita’s chest appeared serene against the chaos and death that had just transpired.

  “I’ll be right back,” Olivia said.

  She grabbed Dr. Gerrard and dragged him away from Anita. He groaned with pain but thankfully was clinging to his arm and grunting with each movement. The shock of the moment had set in, and the scientist cum mercenary was deevolving. Satisfied that there were no weapons by the man, she let go. Hobbling back to the flickering orange field, she knelt and began pushing the smooth boxes back into the void. She could at least keep an eye on him.

  The pain of the bullet lodged in her calf was excruciating, and pushing off with her toes hurt. Moving toward the flickering doorway, Olivia heard a rustling of movement near the entranceway to the bank. The tarp folded back, pushed aside by an unseen visitor.

  Olivia raised her pistol in anticipation of another onslaught. Without the ability to move quickly, she knelt in the middle of the floor of the bank, completely exposed. A metal hand stretched out, pulling the tarp to the side.

  “Jack?” she laughed. “You’re still alive?”

  The metal man was smoking and missing his right arm. Most of the optics were torn away, and what remained appeared riddled with bullet holes. “I ran out of ammo. They piled on me, and I set off a grenade. Can’t believe it's still working. I’ve got alarms going off everywhere right now. But power’s dropping.”

  “Glad you're still with me. Help me push everything back inside. We have to get these crates back into the room.

  “Inside?” Jack asked.

  Olivia realized he couldn’t see the door while looking at it from the side. Waving him forward, she bent down to grab the nearest container. They reminded her of plastic totes. Most were uniform in size and shape except for a few of the larger ones.

  “What the hell? Am I seeing this right? Is that a room?” Jack peered behind the metal plate and then back forward, testing the barrier with his hands.

  “I can’t explain it. Anita is keeping it open. We have to hurry. She’s sick. Just push the damn stuff inside.”

  “Is this Xeno-tech?”

  “Yeah, all of it. Gerrard was killing kids for it.” Olivia tossed one of smaller crates past the barrier, and it floated tumbling away. The swirling yellow points of light flowed around it like clusters of smoke.

  “Whoah! That’s so weird!” Jack watched the object bang against the back of the room. “But why don’t we keep it?”

  “This stuff is dangerous, Jack. Whoever it locked it away did so for a reason. It’s like giving a child a grenade. Eventually we’re going to pull the pin.”

  “But...”

  Only one remaining crate remained. It was the size of a fridge.

  “Jack, please. Can you get that one back inside? We’ll talk about it later. Anita is literally dying. We need to close this.”

  Olivia turned away and began the walk back to Anita.

  “Fine, but I think you’re nuts not to leave at least some of it outside. It would make us rich,” Jack said. A large box the size of a refrigerator lay on its side. He heaved it up. “Whoa, a dead guy! He’s all burned up.”

  Olivia stood next to Dr. Gerrard’s makeshift bench. “What?”

  “I don’t think he’s dead.” Jack bent down to roll him over. Even from across the room she could hear the familiar ping of a spring release. Grant's raspy laughing voice filled the room.

  “Jack, grab it! Into the room!”

  She watched Jack scramble for the grenade in Grant’s hand. Pulling hard, the metal bot dragged it back across the threshold, kneeling half in and half out of the void
. Grant’s hand was across the threshold. The mercenary lay there, laughing.

  “Anita! Close the door! Close the damn door!” Olivia yelled

  “I can’t ... something across the barrier,” came Anita’s sleepy voice.

  Olivia watched as the swarm flooded toward the grenade. Grant let go, and the metal man floated away. The metal began to bend inward, folding onto itself like water flowing down a drain. There was a pop, and the grenade and the biped drone began compressing down to a ball of liquid metal. It hovered there for a moment, vibrating, then evaporated in smoke.

  The door faded from translucent to opaque. A large, featureless metal surface replaced it.

  Olivia pointed her pistol at Grant as he knelt next to the wall. “Give me a reason.”

  Grant sat back on his legs and held his hands over his head. She watched his eyes look toward the dead guard’s submachine gun.

  “Don’t,” she warned.

  Grant dove forward on his belly, reaching for the instrument of death.

  She fired twice, and the weapon skittered away, smoking. Olivia shuffled forward. “The next one goes in your head!”

  Grant lay on the ground. “Do me a favor. Finish me off.”

  “No. You are going to be brought to trial. You and Dr. Gerrard.”

  “I’m a dead man,” he stated. She could see he was telling the truth.

  Somewhere she felt a sliver of empathy for him. “Why?”

  “Please,” Grant asked. He was practically begging her.

  “I’m not a murderer. I’m a private investigator.”

  “You’re a killer alright, Olivia. A stone-cold killer. We both know what you are. What you have done. You're not going to change your stripes. Eventually you are going to run out of missing kids and stolen goods. Someday you’ll get the offer, and you will do what I did. And it will be all about the money.”

  The wind gusted the tarp covering the door. White light danced inward with the smell of ozone.