The Prometheus Effect

by David Fleming

  Mykl’s lungs wouldn’t work; when he tried to inhale, he only managed to make short high-pitched squeaks. It’s just the wind knocked out of me, he told himself to quell the rising panic.

  He pressed his face to the cold tile and concentrated. Breath gradually returned to him in short, shallow gasps. Well, this is new, he thought. She’s handled me roughly in the past, but she’s never physically struck me before. I must have finally found the line not to cross.

  Minutes passed as Mykl lay there trying to normalize his breathing. He used the time to evaluate his situation. Pushing the office request button again was certainly out of the question: if Lori even bothered to open the door at all—which he considered unlikely—the outcome would be the same. No, his only option now was to leave through the other exit and try to find an adult who would help him.

  With one hand clutching his chest, he pushed himself up and brought his shaky legs underneath him. He checked the window in the office door once more before he left; it was empty. She’s not even looking in on me.

  He moved toward the outer door. For a moment, like it or not, freedom was within his grasp.

  And then the outer door flew open, and the man who had tried to adopt him came rushing back in. He grabbed Mykl painfully by the arm and wrenched him out the door.

  Mykl’s adoption had turned into an abduction.

  ***

  While scrounging for a late snack in the cafeteria, James heard the inner request buzzer sound. So—Mykl had rejected another one. Continuing his rummaging, James found a half-eaten bag of chips to share with his friend in celebration. He stuffed the bag in a hiding place for later, smiled, and shuffled back to the dayroom. The children were watching television, leaving Lori alone at her desk—precisely the way she liked it.

  James ambled up to her. “Where Myyykll?”

  Lori’s face wore an expression that puzzled James. She looked… content. No, stranger—she looked happy. “Mykl hasn’t finished his interview yet.” She glanced at the clock, then back at James.

  Sensing something amiss, James started walking toward the interview lobby.

  She immediately rose to block him. “Go to your room, retard.”

  He held his ground, searching her dark eyes.

  “Don’t make me tell you again.” The phone in her hand chimed, and she answered without looking away from James. “Back? Good, you’re all set.”

  From the interview lobby came the sound of the outer door opening. Almost immediately, it slammed shut.

  Lori reached over to her desk and pushed the button to lock it. “Well! Another successful adoption! You should be happy for him.”

  With a swipe of his arm, James pushed her aside like a curtain and ran to the lobby window.

  The room was empty.

  James’s heart sank.

  He turned away, and a flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The security monitor on Lori’s desk—it showed only static. He looked closer, and saw that its cable had been disconnected.

  His blood turned to ice, and he shifted his haunted eyes to Lori.

  She cackled. “Why, whatever is the matter, James? You look like you’ve just seen the Angel.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Jack sensed the dark desert rushing underneath the helicopter and mentally urged it to go faster. He berated himself for not checking in earlier. This boy had been hiding in their shadows for over a year. Now he was off the grid with information about the Asylum Angel. For all he knew, the boy might be the next target.

  He had seen the recorded images of the boy’s adoption interview. The audio cut out early, but something the boy said had obviously had an effect on the man trying to adopt him. An ugly fear chased him outside, and exterior video showed him running all the way back to his vehicle. The boy eyed the closing door, looking torn for a moment before pressing the request buzzer to go back inside.

  And then the video went to static.

  The external feed also went to static, as did the feed from the asylum office—right after showing the asylum manager reaching for the camera’s cord. Clearly she had disconnected all three cameras. But why?

  When the video feeds returned, all seemed normal again. That was two hours ago. He’d already initiated tracking on the manager’s phone, but she’d made no new calls since.

  “Your agent is on tactical channel bravo-nine, sir.”

  Switching his headset over to B9, Jack spoke calmly. “Have you traced the license plate?” He paused to listen. “Good. Get to that address. And keep me updated.”

  ***

  Dawn was sitting huddled on her bunk, her knees hugged tightly to her chest, when she heard footsteps at her door.

  She tilted her head. “Mykl?”

  “Myyykll gones.”

  “James, what are you doing up here? Even Linda might punish you if you get caught in the girls’ dorm.”

  “Lori gots rid of Myyykll.”

  “What are you talking about? You mean he was adopted?”

  “No. Lori gots rid.”

  So, it finally happened. Mykl was gone. “Well,” Dawn said, trying to sound strong, “she would certainly like to get rid of all of us if she could—and Mykl most of all for the way he pushed her buttons. Though… I was fully expecting he’d come sneaking back to tell me how he ran off another deadbeat. Oh, James, I know you’re sad—I am, too—but we have to let him go. He’s free of this place.” She leaned back to the wall and spoke to the ceiling. “And if he allowed himself to be adopted, he must have found someone worthy. Don’t worry, James. Mykl can take care of himself.”

  “Lori turns off sneaky cameras when Mykl insides.”

  Dawn sat up and stretched a hand toward James. He stepped closer and took it. “What do you mean she turned off the cameras?”

  “She turns thems off, thens backs ons when he gones. Leaves door unlocks too. She no even checks to makes sure he okay. Just looks scary and smiles.”

  “What?” That meant Lori had broken at least four rules that could get her fired. For all she knew, the Angel himself could have adopted Mykl. “That bitch has gone too far. Even she has rules to follow.”

  More footsteps approached, and then Linda’s voice spoke from the doorway. “James. You know the rules. Out.”

  Dawn brushed around James. “Linda, someone needs to be told about Lori. James told me that she all but shoved Mykl out the door.”

  “Lori already told me the details. You know how James exaggerates. He misses his friend, but he’ll deal with it.”

  “But Mykl might be in danger!” Dawn pleaded.

  “He’s gone. End of story. Now James, go to your room, or I’ll tell Lori when she gets back.”

  James released Dawn’s hand with an exaggerated sigh and trundled away, and Linda followed, closing the door behind her.

  Dawn flopped onto her bed and clenched her fists. The frustration of unseeing eyes, plus hands that were tied by Linda's incompetence, left her feeling powerless.

  Then again, if anyone could think his way out of a bad situation, it was Mykl. She just wished she could send a guardian angel to him.

  To the emptiness confining her, she whispered, “Be strong, Mykl. Never give up.”

  ***

  Back in his room, with his hands in his lap, James sat staring at the newspaper on his desk. It wasn’t a crossword that held his attention; it was the headline on the front page written in huge block letters: ASYLUM ANGEL. Below the block letters, the paper had published his newest cipher in its entirety, with a reward announcement for the person who could break it.

  James turned toward the dark sheet of glass filling the window. The reflection of a handsome seventeen-year-old boy stared back at him, and beyond that, a cascading torrent of lightning leapt from cloud to cloud across the sky. Its intensity illuminated a secret no one still living had ever witnessed: a fiery intelligence in a pair of titanium gray eyes.

  CHAPTER 17

  Mykl cradled his arm. It didn’t feel broken, but
it hurt to move. The man had grabbed him above the elbow and lifted him bodily off the ground. With the tips of his shoes scuffing the sidewalk, he was dangle-dragged to a microvan and unceremoniously pushed into the back seat.

  “Behave yaself now!”

  Child locks effectively prevented Mykl from escaping. Typical of most vehicles in Las Vegas, its windows were tinted limousine dark to tame the oppressive summer heat. No one would see his attempts to get their attention.

  As they drove away, he sat back in his seat with his head against the window, feeling the cold glass on his forehead. He wished he could enjoy this feeling of a vehicle in motion, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning wild and horrific thoughts about their destination.

  “Just ya wait ’til we get home. Ya mom’s gonna teach ya some manners.”

  Mykl angrily kicked the back of the man’s seat. The man drove to a neighborhood near the Box. Over the tops of the house, just a few miles away, the flashing signs of multibillion dollar hotels lit the sky. Their vivid colors sharply contrasted against the porch lights, whose dim bulbs seemed to apologize for revealing dilapidated houses and weedy lava rock lawns. This part of town had existed during the age of aboveground nuclear testing. The houses were indistinguishable from one another, block upon block of square, cookie-cutter homes resembling shingled cinderblock bunkers; the only distinguishing features were the differing patterns of dead trees and rusted cars parked in front. Poor insulation made the houses feel like ovens in the summertime and meat lockers in the winter. Wind from the coming storm whipped garbage cans over the road like urban tumbleweeds.

  Mykl watched without emotion as the man pulled into a driveway and activated a remote on his ripped sun visor. In front of the microvan a rising panel of peeling paint unveiled a cave of clutter, with piles reaching like stalagmites to exposed rafters. Darkness enveloped him as the garage door closed behind them, then Mykl squinted as a dome light flicked on with the opening of the man’s door.

  The man floundered out of the van. “All right, out wit ya.”

  Mykl glared. Does this crapulous minion really think I will cooperate and submit? Does he think I’m bluffing about filling his house with an explosive gas? Mykl wasn’t afraid to go on the offensive if passive resistance failed.

  Defiantly, he crossed his arms and pushed himself back into his seat. “Do you expect me to call you Dad?” he said, dropping the last word as an insult.

  The man laughed. “I ain’t gonna be yer pa! That was jus’ a sham so’s yer new mom could git ya. They won’t let her adopt no ones, so’s she paid me to do it for her. Ha! Gave me a hun’ed dollars and said she’s bring’n me ‘sumpin special’ when she comes to picks ya up.” He winked at Mykl. “Now git out.”

  Mykl’s mind worked feverishly over this new bit of information. Being adopted by an easily manipulated drunkard would have been simple to deal with. Being adopted by proxy for someone who was already deemed unfit for a child was a different matter entirely.

  Mykl slid himself across the seat and hopped out. If he could escape even for a moment and tell his story to a neighbor…

  He maneuvered his way between piles of junk and stopped at a panel of plywood separating the house from the garage. The man reached over Mykl’s shoulder and pushed it open. The stench of stale cigarette smoke, rotting garbage, and rancid sweat poured over him. It may as well have been an asylum-scented air freshener. The man firmly assisted him over the threshold and down the short section of an L-shaped hallway. Mykl barely had time to glance down the longer hallway to the main part of the house before the man shoved him into a room with no windows. Its furnishings, if you could call them that, consisted of an unmade bed, frayed carpet, and an empty closet.

  “Ya mom’ll be here shortly. Don’t gets too used to tha place. Ya ain’t stay’n.” The man padlocked the door and left Mykl alone in the dark with his thoughts.

  ***

  “Nellis is requesting we alter our flight plan, sir. They have live-fire military exercises in progress over the bombing ranges.”

  “Skirt to the east and cut through the Groom Range. We need the shortest route to Vegas.” Deadlines were nothing new to Jack, but he devoutly hoped they could find the boy before his deadline became literal.

  The pilot frowned over his navigation plot. “Sir, that’s going to take us over—”

  Jack cut off the pilot with an icy stare. “I understand very well where that will take us. I’m the one who built it in the first place. They have nothing that I don’t already know about.”

  “They still aren’t going to like us in their airspace, sir,” the pilot replied, altering course.

  “If they give you any flack, tell them the Ripper authorized it.”

  ***

  A search of Mykl’s new Box revealed two useless light switches. Whether the bulbs were burned out or missing didn’t change the fact that he sat in the dark. The only light came creeping in from a gap under the door, and it stopped after a few inches, as if too afraid to enter. Mykl put his cheek to the scratchy carpet by the gap. He could just make out the longer hallway beyond, but it revealed nothing more than weak shadows and flickers of light. He heard muffled television sounds coming from another part of the house.

  Mykl sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands until random patterns and colors shifted behind his eyelids; it was a habit that helped him clear his mind when he wanted to concentrate. He considered his situation. He guessed that Lori was getting paid to run some sort of adoption-for-cash scheme. It suited her personality to sell children as chattel without regard for their happiness or safety. But the most pressing danger was not to him; it was to the person in the Box who had been targeted by the Angel. For all Mykl knew, the Angel could be on his way to the Box right now. Mykl had the cipher solution, but how could he get it to the police?

  I have to figure out a way to conquer a smelly dark room. Dawn lives in a world of eternal darkness, and she would never give up; so neither will I. Even in your absence, you inspire me, Dawn.

  He found nothing to write with… unless.

  The empty closet loomed in the darkness. Merely thinking of the idea that popped into his head gave him the willies. Dropping to his hands and knees, he carefully began feeling around the bottom of the closet. Holding his palms flat with fingers splayed out, he made long searching sweeps, trembling with anxiety as he did so. He ran a finger in between the carpet and the wall molding— “Ow!”

  Mykl pulled the pin out of his finger and stuck the bleeding digit in his mouth. He had confirmed a trivial fact he remembered reading on the internet: all closets have pins on the floor.

  He pulled the finger out of his mouth lest he waste precious blood. I need to work quickly or I’m going to have to stab myself again.

  He milked his finger to keep the blood flowing, then used his own blood to write on the back of the door. He knew no one would see it unless they came in all the way and closed the door, but if they did, well—a message written in blood was sure to attract attention.

  Blood stopped flowing after only one letter. As Mykl stabbed his finger again, he decided he’d have to make some compromises when it came to spelling. He hoped whoever found this message had some intelligence.

  The doorbell rang, and it was followed by the sound of a muffled voice—a female voice. Mykl quickly put his cheek back to the carpet by the door. Incoherent babble from the television masked the conversation, but Mykl could hear a certain gaiety in the woman’s laughter. That lifted Mykl’s spirits some. If she was capable of laughter, she couldn’t be all that bad.

  Mykl hurriedly went back to work on his message in blood. Anticipation played a deadly game with his breathing. His fingers began to tingle from hyperventilating.

  He finally finished his message at the expense of four sore fingertips. At least now if the Angel claims someone, they’ll be able to find the body—maybe.

  He had to admit, that was one massive “maybe.” This was one message, written on the ba
ck of a door, in a dark room that no one ever entered or bothered to clean. The truth was, the only way anyone would find his message was if the Angel came and killed the man who kidnapped Mykl. That was a happy thought. If I’m lucky, the Angel is a nice psychopath who simply wanted notoriety. If that’s the case, then everyone should be safe… I hope.

  Footsteps pounded down the hall and stopped outside Mykl’s door. He rose from his listening spot and backed away. Someone shoved a key in the padlock, and the door opened.

  “Hello, Mykl. Ready to take a ride?”

  CHAPTER 18

  “People can be so stupid,” the ambulance driver said as he spotted a man dodging cars in the middle of a poorly lit street.

  His wizened partner said, “Think of it as job security. If people didn’t do stupid things, we wouldn’t have anything to do, right?”

  Harsh alarm tones blared through their radio, followed by a synthesized dispatcher’s voice. “Unit 23, proceed to the intersection of Las Vegas Boulevard and Sahara for a vehicle accident. Auto versus pedestrian.”

  “Twenty-three copies.” The driver pushed the button for the emergency lights and reached for the siren switch.

  “Hold off on the sirens for a minute,” his partner said. “We’re next to the asylum. Those kids have it bad enough with the Angel stalking them. They don’t need us waking them up in the middle of the night.”

  ***

  Dawn lay in bed with her fingertips touching her face. As her substitute eyes, they gently followed the contour of her profile. She tried to imagine what she looked like. Turning them away from her, she urged them to remember Mykl’s face. I miss you already, she said in her mind. How long will it take before my hands forget?

  James was the sole friend she had left in the Box—and she knew he would be forced out soon. She took a deep breath and rolled to her side. “Don’t give up. Never give up.”