Blake placed his thumb to the plate next to his door, charging into his room. After a moment of hesitation, I attempted to follow him, but the door shut, beating me to the punch. Slumping down on the floor, I sat next to Blake’s doorway deep in thought. Selfish, I was being incredibly selfish. To think that I’d experienced more pain in life than any other person, especially here, was naïve. Blake’s pain was obviously not something he let show very often. Only after an ignorant comment on my part was it brought to the surface. I knew I’d revealed a part of me that should have remained veiled. Wanting to make amends with Blake, I stood up, pressing my thumb to the plate. The door swung open. Even though he was anticipating my retort, my appearance still clearly rattled him. He was sitting on the corner of his bed with his head in his hands. He’d taken the top half of his suit off, revealing a sight I would never have expected to see. The ripped, muscular frame I’d been training with was adorned with more scars than I’d ever seen on a living human body before. There were the obvious surgical scars around his navel and his breast bone, encircling his heart. But, besides the surgical scars, there were also scars that appeared to be inflicted by anything from a gunshot, burn, blunt object or something serrated; a knife or a piece of glass, perhaps. From his left shoulder, cutting through his nipple and journeying on down to his mid-abdomen, was a long, bright pink, newly healed scar. I knew I should turn away, but I couldn’t. It was like a car accident, a morbid curiosity.
“You know,” Blake said, “the funny thing about the technology here is that, more often than not, it fails in comparison to a nice deadbolt.”
“Look, Blake, I’m sorry. I can go.”
“Why? You’re already here. Might as well stay and get comfortable.” Blake stood up and tugged the rest of his suit down. Flushed, I turned my head towards the door.
“Geez...Blake,” a surprised squeal escaped my mouth. “Just because we’re partners doesn’t mean I need to know everything about you.” I heard the doors of the dresser open, some fumbling around, and then the sound of it shutting again.
“It’s nothing you haven’t already seen before on some other guy.”
I looked back in his direction, making sure to keep my eyes above the equator in case the pants that I assumed he retrieved from his dresser weren’t already on. Thankfully, they were, and I caught him just as he was pulling a t-shirt over his head, covering up the wounds on his abdomen. Against my better judgment, I asked him what I believed to be the obvious. “What happened to you, Blake?”
He looked at me puzzled, prompting me to make a gesture with my eyes towards his chest. “Oh, you mean the work of modern warfare that’s overspreading my body like some form of masochistic graffiti?”
“If that’s how you want to put it.”
“Let’s just say that I’ll try my damnedest to not let it happen to you.”
“None of those scars were there before you came here?”
“I hadn’t had so much as my tonsils taken out before I arrived here. Since, I’ve had two kidney transplants, a new liver, my gall bladder removed, my spleen repaired, a portion of my intestines re-sectioned and removed as well as my heart operated on more times than I care to think of. Like I told you before, we’re varietal human science experiments in this place. It’s like a mad scientist’s lab here.”
At that moment, a realization hit me like a rogue lightning bolt. “Oh, my God.”
Blake looked up at me. “What?”
“Is that what Cameron meant when he called you Frank?” Blake glanced back down again, verifying my observation. “It is…isn’t it? Frank means Frankenstein, doesn’t it? Wow, that little weasel.”
“Don’t be too harsh on Cameron. His social skills were developed during conversations with imaginary friends.”
“I know, but still, that’s harsh.”
“That’s life. They had to do whatever it took to keep me alive, spare parts and all.” He looked back up at me with eyes more intent than before. “But I promise you, Celaine, as long as I have life left in me, I will not let this happen to you.” He made a gesture to his abdomen, putting his hands back on his lap.
“I don’t understand. What about our suits? Are they not supposed to prevent that kind of damage from happening to us?”
“Like all forms of technology, they aren’t perfect. Obviously, if they hadn’t worked at all, I would be dead instead of a walking horror movie. After a while, though, the suits start to wear down. Weaknesses develop in their structure. They become vulnerable. Plus, don’t forget, I was the lab rat they used to test every theory they ever had.”
“Blake, your life, your body. Have you ever wondered why you sacrifice so much for an uncertain future? Don’t you have your regrets every time you look in the mirror and see what they’ve done to you?”
“No. My actions inadvertently took a life and, though it wasn’t grounds for a murder trial, it is grounds for me to sacrifice my life to make up for the one that was lost because of me. I have no regrets. Do you?”
“No. At least, not yet, anyway.”
“You should probably go and change.”
“Actually, this suit has kind of grown on me.”
He smirked. “Well, then, we’d better get down to the dining hall. Our warden is waiting for us.”
****
Lucy Pierce was on a mission, one which she wasn’t going to stop until she’d obtained the answers she was looking for. No matter how many eyebrows she raised or whispers she provoked in her wake, she was determined to find out what had happened to the woman whose name meant nothing to anyone else but her: Celaine Stevens. Predictable, reliable, Celaine Stevens. The Celaine Stevens who’d lived in a bubble of conventionalism and, aside from a propensity for crude humor that tended to go over Lucy’s head, never did anything unconventional.
Utilizing all of the resources available to her through favors owed by indigent clients, Lucy had done the research she hoped would turn up answers and result in the closure she needed. Closure, not only for her, but for Chase as well. She’d called in a few favors to Mr. Jackson, a dowdy old man and former patient of hers who happened to work for the Social Security Administration. Earlier in the year, she’d assisted him by offering free sessions when his wife, a lifelong manic depressive, committed suicide. Now, in her time of need, she felt it was time to cash in even though she felt guilty as, if caught, he would undoubtedly be terminated. However, this prospect didn’t even seem to faze Mr. Jackson as, when she contacted him, he immediately agreed to do whatever was in his power to help her.
She provided him with what information she knew about Celaine, asking that he track her activity by using the Social Security number she’d obtained from Celaine’s worried Aunt Tasha. Even though she hadn’t known what to expect from Mr. Jackson‘s findings, the information she received from him was unexpected, raising her suspicions to the hilt. No record existed of there ever having been a Celaine Stevens matching the information of her missing friend. Dejected, but undeterred, Lucy thanked Mr. Jackson for his efforts and resumed the search on her own.
As disappointing as it was, the news didn’t surprise her. She suspected there was something fishy about the way the government had been operating since President Brooks took office and, although she was back at square one, she felt as though she’d made some headway. There was little doubt in her mind now that Celaine’s new job involved the government. After all, who else could erase all trace of a person’s existence?
On a rainy afternoon, Lucy pounded the pavement in Washington, D.C., flyers in hand, searching for the friend who’d been gone for nearly a month now. Hundreds of people saw the brightly colored flyers depicting Celaine’s image. Most of them glanced at it for no longer than a millisecond, shook their heads, and promptly refused her pleas to take the flyers and distribute them amongst their friends.
Despite her umbrella conspiring against her, bending out of shape in the strengthening winds, a soaking wet Lucy continued her mission, seeking refuge und
erneath the awning of an office building. While waiting under the awning, she stopped every employee who came in and out of the building, inquiring as to whether their employer was government operated and if they’d ever had anyone disappear on them like her friend had. This inquiry was met with several frightened expressions and eventually got her kicked out from the shelter of the awning back into the pouring rain by a security guard who’d muttered, “That kind of questioning is bound to get you killed.” Blowing him off, she continued undaunted down the street.
Towards the end of the day, with only a few flyers remaining after posting them in store windows, on light poles and in telephone booths, she ran into a man who took particular interest in her and her mission.
“Can I ask what it is you’re doing? he asked, stopping her on the street.
“I’m looking for my friend. She disappeared a month ago with the story that she was moving out West to start a new job. The problem is that, upon doing a few background checks, I was told that she basically doesn’t exist and has actually never existed, which leads me to believe she’s here somewhere.”
“Hmm…interesting concept. Are you implying that it was a governmental job of sorts and that stripping her of her identity is a form of cover-up?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched, but I believe the only way she could have disappeared off the face of this planet is with a little governmental assistance.”
“May I take a look at one of those flyers?”
Lucy handed the man a flyer and couldn’t help but notice the marked change in his expression as he gazed at the photograph on it. It was an eerie expression she couldn’t quite decipher; a cross between anger, worry and shock.
“May I keep this?” he asked, recovering quickly.
“Sure, that’s what I made them for.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Very well.” He neatly folded the flyer, tucking it into the pocket of his rain coat and, just as soon as he turned to walk back down the street, he paused to turn back around. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend but, if I were you, I would disregard the conspiracy theory you’ve concocted and consider the possibility that your friend disappeared because she wanted to. Whoever fed you the information you have was misinformed.”
“I appreciate your thoughts, but in my heart I know what the truth is.”
“So be it.” The man nodded as he headed back down the street, traveling a couple of store windows down the block before Lucy called out to him.
“Hey.”
“Yes.” He turned around to face her again.
“May I ask what your name is?”
“Certainly. My name is Victor.”
“Nice meeting you, Victor. Thank you for taking a flyer.”
“Nice meeting you as well…Lucy, right? The name on the flyer?”
“Yes. Lucy.”
“Well, Lucy, thank you for the riveting conversation.”
She nodded, and he turned to walk back down the street. After rounding a corner, he saw another flyer taped to a lamppost in front of a small family-owned diner. Promptly ripping it down, he balled it up and tossed it into a trashcan on the sidewalk. Reaching into the pocket of his khakis, he pulled out his cell phone.
“Yeah,” the voice on the other end answered.
“We have a problem; a potential security breach.”
“You know how to handle those, so handle it,” the irritated voice replied.
“Very well. Consider it handled.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Day Away
In one swift move The Man in Black crumbled beneath my feet, all signs of life leaving his digitized shell. I looked down at his body in disbelief that quickly gave way to a sense of accomplishment as the simulation room flickered back into less foreboding territory. Blake took off his helmet, beaming with pride as a teacher would at a student who’d finally gotten it. He held out his hand for a high five.
“And that’s how it’s done,” he looked at me proudly.
“Did you ever have any doubts?” I asked, feigning disbelief.
“Umm…”
“Don’t answer that.”
“Do you want to get out of here for the day?” he asked in a hesitant tone.
“Of course I do. How are we going to make a break for it?”
“We just go.” he laughed. “We put our time in today. Let’s go.”
I looked at Blake in disbelief at the level of defiance he was exhibiting and, together, we exited the simulator. Cameron, as always, was there to greet us.
“I’ll set everything back up for you guys to have another run-through. I made it easy on you this time. Next time, you’d better watch your backs and…”
“We’re done for the day,” Blake announced.
“But…but…Victor says you need to keep practicing. She’s not ready yet,” he gestured toward me.
“Is Victor here right now? Blake asked.
“Well…no.”
“Then we’ll be back by curfew.”
Cameron proceeded to follow us until we left the training room, blubbering the entire time. We ignored his pleas and, instead, walked to our rooms to change for our day of indiscretion.
I rummaged through my closet, pulling out the one outfit I’d managed to bring with me and placed it on the bed. Peeling the suit away from my body, I stuffed it into my backpack in the off chance that it became imperative for me to change back into it. As I slipped into my blue jeans, I noticed they’d become noticeably more loose than they’d been before. Running my fingers down my stomach, I felt my abs. I’d never had abs before, and feeling them now was like discovering a hidden treasure.
While kneeling down to pick my shirt up from off the bed I heard Blake’s name announced through the speakers in my room as he pressed the thumb plate to gain entry. “Just a second,” I called. It was too late. The door slid open revealing Blake in the doorway. Scrambling, I grabbed the shirt, pulling it over my head. “You know, just because you’re cavalier about your nudity doesn’t mean I am about mine.”
I’d expected some smart aleck comment from him, but instead witnessed an uncharacteristically speechless Blake, who stood staring at the floor. “So…sorry. I should have waited for you out in the top…hall…the hall,” he stammered.
“Are you all right?”
“Wha…yeah…I am now.”
“Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d drive the cycle to the ocean for a day.” He held up his backpack. “I snuck some sandwiches out of the kitchen.”
“Well, Mr. Cohen, who would have thought you’d turn out to be such a deviant. A picnic on the beach, eh? You must have been really popular with the ladies.”
“I can’t complain.”
****
The wind whipped past us as Blake weaved the motorcycle in and out of traffic down the highway. Even since my transformation into the super human world, Blake’s suicidal break-neck speeds still made my stomach turn. Cars honked their horns at us in our wake, their occupants flashing us looks of pure annoyance which I was sure only made Blake drive with that much more reckless abandon.
In less than an hour, we pulled up to the parking lot facing the Atlantic Ocean. I’d always loved the ocean, a fact of which had made me go stir-crazy when I lived in Iowa. There was something enchanting about staring out at a large body of water. It always had a way of making me feel free, as though it could whisk me away to destinations only attainable in my dreams if only I were to close my eyes and hold out my arms.
Taking off our helmets, Blake and I carried them with us onto the sand, where he took two small rolled-up blankets out of his backpack and tossed one to me. I spread my blanket out on the sand where I sat down and took my shoes off to let my bare toes explore the sand uninhibited. Blake sat down next to me, closing his eyes too, allowing the salty, sweet ocean air to overcome him.
“Thank you,” I said to him.
“For what?”
“This.” I made a gesture towards the
ocean and my surroundings.
“Don’t mention it,” he laughed. “I needed the break, myself. They seem to forget that we’re human beings, not robotic slaves.”
“What exactly are they, Blake?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the cause, the Epicenter. What are they? Do they even know?”
“Unfortunately, we’re not privy to that information,” he smiled as though he’d contemplated the same unanswerable question before. “From what I do know of it, the Epicenter was instituted shortly after President Brooks took office; shortly after the attacks began. The public demanded action. So, in order to save his hide and his approval ratings, Brooks sought solutions from a collective group of individuals. One of those individuals was Victor, who touted himself as a human engineer.” Blake picked up a handful of sand. Spreading his fingers apart slightly, he allowed each grain to sift through them like a human hourglass. “In reality, Victor’s more of a doctor with dreams of becoming a scientist who uses humans as test subjects. He had this grand idea of turning the ordinary into the extraordinary and possessed the research to back it up. Along with Drs. Harris and Martin, he plugged his idea to Brooks. Long story short, they were given the equipment and a time frame to make their idea for their new race of super humans come to fruition.”
“It was like a ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ kind of thing?
“Sort of. Brooks retained the faith of the nation, and Victor received the funding he needed to play God. He was able to hire the best of the best for his staff and thus, both the Epicenter and we were born.”
“I’m not too sure about the whole best of the best part. I’m nothing special. Why I was chosen, I’ll never understand.”
“I don’t know. I think you’re pretty amazing.”
“I have to say, you’ve surprised me, Mr. Cohen,” I replied, trying my best to mask my embarrassment. “You’re not nearly the hard ass you make yourself out to be.”
Enigma Black Page 21
