EXOSKELETON - A Novel
Page 23
"What do they say about it now?" Will asked.
"Nobody knows. But there are all sorts of wild speculations."
"Yes," Dale cut it. "And the truth is coming out about the place." He shook his head slowly. "We had no idea, son ... To think those bastards were hurting you ... "
Will didn't want to think about the Red Box anymore. "Did they really sell my house?"
"Yes, but I have a feeling that you're going to get all of that back," his mother replied.
A voice boomed unexpectedly from the doorway. "You bet he is, and much more."
Everyone turned to look at the man who had walked into the room. Will thought he was about his dad's age.
"I'm so happy to meet you, Dr. Thompson," the man said.
Two women followed behind him, one about the man's age, and the other much younger.
"Who are you?" Will asked, confused.
"We're from the DNA Foundation," Jonathan said. "This is Julia, my wife, and Denise, my intern ... My name is Jonathan McDougal."
"They were working on your case, Will," his mother added. "And now they're going to shut down that awful program."
Will realized something at that moment: Out of the Exoskeleton meant back into prison. "So, I'll be going to jail now?" he asked.
Everyone became silent until Dale said, "I think Mr. McDougal can answer that for you, son."
"You're going to be exonerated," Jonathan explained. "Cynthia Worthington came out of her coma about a week ago, and has been regaining her faculties steadily since then. She still can't speak, but she can write."
Will wanted to stand, but was only able to sit up a little taller. "What did she say? What happened?"
"It wasn't you," Jonathan said. "She was attacked by two high school boys from a town over."
"She'll testify to this?" William asked. He was in a state of cautious disbelief.
"We already have a written statement," Denise said, and smiled. "You're as good as free."
Will didn't know how to react. He closed his eyes and felt an emotion that he could not define—a paralyzing elation. He had no words, only tears.
*
Will counted back; it had been forty days since he'd been dropped off on the roof of the Red Box. Only forty days. So much could change in forty days.
"I still feel like I might be hallucinating all of this—it just seems too good to be true," Will said. "I'm really here? I'm really free?"
"I think you are, William," Jonathan affirmed.
"Thank you, Jonathan. How can I ever repay you?"
"You don't owe us anything," Jonathan replied. "Be we would like to do one more thing for you; we'd like to represent you in the multitude of lawsuits that are going to result from this ... We'll get you back on your feet and then some."
A doctor came in and asked Will if he was in any pain. Will shook his head and laughed: he could handle a little pain. The doctor then told everyone to leave for the night—they could visit again tomorrow.
*
After everyone had gone, Will turned the TV to CNN—they cycled through the Red Box story about every ten minutes. Bergman and Halbreath were dead, as were many others he recognized. Two of the doctors were dead—Poliakov wasn't at the final event, so he was alive. Colby, the dentist, was killed. His assistant survived, but was in critical condition; Hatley—he'd never forget her name, or her smirk.
He learned the name of the man who had fired the last bullet: Richard Greene. He'd been blown through the building, and what little was left of his body was found in the street, and on the walls of the adjacent building ... Will didn't know he was capable of such extreme violence. He believed he could never have consciously gone through with such an act. It had been an automatic response—a matter of self preservation.
There were many names mentioned that he did not recognize, but apparently none of the other patients were killed. Their Exoskeletons had saved them, as well. The structural integrity of the building had been compromised by the explosion, and the attempted evacuation of the facility had been quite revealing.
The FBI was now investigating the entire CP program, and operations at both the Detroit and New York facilities had been halted. They'd begun extracting inmates from their Exoskeletons, which evidently took at least a day for each patient. Additional engineering teams were being assembled to expedite the process.
At ten o'clock, the "Lance Gates" show came on, and the guest was psychologist Amy Walte.
"Dr. Walte, what kind of people will be coming out of a program like this—where will they be at, emotionally?" Gates asked.
The camera switched to Walte, an attractive blonde woman with large, super-white teeth, and square, black-rimmed glasses. "It's difficult to say," she explained. "They've been through a horrific ordeal ... The majority of them will most likely be transferred to mental health facilities. The limited information we've gathered so far indicates that these men have essentially been turned into monsters ... But let's not forget that there are already more than a thousand former CP patients walking the streets as we speak ... "
*
Will wondered if he'd become a monster as well.
*
From the ceiling of his room, just above the door, Will watched the two men enter. It was 3 a.m., and he was on edge. One of the men turned off the TV while the other turned on the light beside his bed. His eyes were wide open, and completely white.
"Holy shit!" the man shouted and jumped back.
Will went back to his body and looked up at them. "Who are you?"
"I'm Agent Scott, and this is Agent Carver. We're with the FBI."
"What do you want?"
"We won't be able to keep you a secret very long, Dr. Thompson."
"What do you mean?"
"It was all recorded," Agent Scott replied. "Everything you did during your treatment, and what happened during the final ... incident."
Will figured they'd recorded everything. Just because that part of the building was destroyed didn't mean the video data had gone along with it.
"So what do you want from me?" Will asked.
"We want you to work for us," Agent Carver answered.
"I don't think so," Will replied without hesitation.
"Dr. Thompson," Agent Scott cut in. "I can't blame you for not trusting us. But you must understand that the FBI had nothing to do with Red Wraith. It was exclusively a DARPA/CIA project."
Will was silent. He just wanted to be left alone.
"All of the people involved with this project need to be tracked down," Agent Scott explained. "But there are more pressing matters to be dealt with first ... Namely the former patients of the program—they're banding together, dropping off the grid like flies. We believe they may be planning something, and thought you might be able to help."
"I don't understand how I could help with that," Will replied.
"It might be a stretch," Scott replied, "but we thought you might be able to provide some insight into how these men think ... And, of course, your abilities might be of use to the bureau along the way."
Will nodded, but remained silent.
"There's one more thing we can offer you," Carver said. "Anonymity and protection."
"And why would I need that?" Will asked.
"You're a weapon now, Dr. Thompson," Scott replied. "A very unique weapon. And it is highly unlikely there will ever be another like you. Governments and extremist groups will either want to possess you, or destroy you."
Will considered this for a moment. They were right—he was a walking, talking psychic weapon.
"Maybe we can talk more next week, when I'm out of here."
The two agents glanced at each other.
"That's good enough for me," Scott said, grinning.
The two men shook Will's hand and left, closing the door behind them.
Will sighed and closed his eyes. Life was going to be even stranger than he'd originally thought. Now it seemed he'd have to live his life on the run, or in hiding.
Even so, his outlook remained positive.
He found himself wondering: if he could go back in time and sidestep the whole mess—the false accusation, the public humiliation, the torture, the Red Box—would he? He knew the answer almost immediately: no. There was no way he would trade the experience. It had been horrible, yes, and he'd never want to do it again—but it truly was his most powerful experience. It had become his greatest asset. He was completely stripped; all the worst things that could ever happen in his life already had. It was the fear of these things that was the real Exoskeleton.
*
There were many consequences of the transformation—but the most profound, Will discovered, was that he'd shed his most basal and deeply hidden fear: the fear of death.
About the Author
SHANE STADLER is an experimental physicist. He has worked at numerous government research and defense laboratories, and is currently a professor of physics at a major research university. Exoskeleton is his first novel.
About the Publisher
Founded October of 2011, Dark Hall Press seeks to promote a diverse body of quality works advancing the tradition of Horror storytelling as well as providing exposure for up-and-coming writers. Dark Hall Press is a subsidiary imprint of New Street Communications, LLC, Wickford, RI.
Visit us online at
darkhallpress.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgments
I Day Minus-One
II Day Zero
III Day One
IV Numbers and Voices
V Genesis
VI Revelation
VII Apocalypse
About the Author
About the Publisher