Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2)

by Jacob Hammes

  “But how can I trust you?”

  Edwardo pulled something out of his coat. It was a picture of her, smiling and happy. She had shorter hair than she did now, bleached nearly blonde by the sun. Her twig legs and skinny arms were also much darker than they were now, possibly because of the beach upon which she sat. Her parents, two wonderful looking people, hugged her closely. They were not familiar to her in any way, but she felt as if they must be her mother and father.

  “I’m here to take you back,” he stated simply.

  Amy was quiet then, unable to comprehend all the information Edwardo was giving her. She pulled her legs up tighter under her and tried to keep her mouth shut. For three hours, she was successful. America was a strange place to her. Tall buildings were replaced by sprawling stretches of trees before yet more tall buildings sprung up out of nowhere. The small towns they went through seemed dead in the middle of the night, yet sporadically men and women walked the streets.

  Soon, she dozed off and her head lolled to one side. Eventually she even started dreaming pleasant dreams as the car bounced softly down the freeway. They were headed north, yet that meant nothing to her at the time. She didn’t really care where they were headed, as long as it meant getting her back to normal. Amy wanted most of all to have a sense of where she belonged.

  After an hour or so, her dreams took a turn for the worst. They felt as if reality had somehow invaded her head and threatened to strangle her. Men and women danced slowly together upon a mahogany floor beneath a swinging set of decorative lights. She knew from the way her feet worked strangely beneath her that she was back aboard the ship. In her hand was a drink and beside her sat a good looking man.

  He smiled through dark lips and black eyes at her—her perception of reality was obviously askew in the dream world. When he spoke, nothing came out but a warbling noise that made her nauseous. She smiled back, looking down into her own drink. The lighting here made everything look crazy, especially since it swayed to and fro. She couldn’t make out anything familiar in this world, but she knew this was something she had already endured.

  As time wore on with her in the ship, it also started speeding up. The man got up and walked away as she sat quietly, but he moved like some flash of light through a particularly dense piece of glass. He sped this way and that, through the other men and women aboard the ship while they all followed suit. It was just another thing that made her nauseated aboard the ghost ship.

  Then she felt herself restrained. Somehow she knew she was being bound, though she was helpless to stop it. In a dark room, surrounded by flashes of light she presumed were men and women, she simply ceased all movement. It wasn’t like she had an option anyway. This dream didn’t seem to have an end, nor did it have an escape route. She was a prisoner in her own head.

  Through the darkness, above the flashing circle of men and women who seemed to be working on her, there came something familiar. It was the smiling apparition of her friendly haunt. He comforted her as the men and women did terrible things to her. She didn’t notice what they were doing anymore, for the man who floated above her kept her mind preoccupied and at ease. She felt peace as she drifted into his eyes.

  Suddenly she was awake. The dawn had broken somewhere in the distance and the very first rays of light were making the puffy white clouds red. She grinned, realizing that somehow she had gotten into a warm and cozy bed. The big window in front of her gave her the perfect view of both city, far in the distance, and nature. The trees seemed big and natural, green as if they had been watered continuously all year long.

  “Where are we?” she asked in a lazy Spanish dialect. “I don’t remember getting into bed.”

  If she expected anyone to answer, she was mistaken. Amy slowly rolled from side to side, looking all over the room to figure out exactly where she was. The tiles on the floor were dark and cold and Amy didn’t really want to get out of bed just yet. She stretched and felt her skin, bare except for a bra and panties. Something like worry flashed through her, though she felt as if she should shove it out of her mind.

  The door opened and a woman walked in. She was short, blonde, and had the pointiest nose Amy could imagine having ever seen. Upon her nose sat a pair of perfectly round spectacles that did a great job keeping her eyes hidden. Her tight businesslike attire told Amy that she was someone who had come to discuss things, not comfort her.

  “It’s time to wake up,” the woman said in Spanish. “You need to get some food in you. You’ve been asleep for nearly thirty hours.”

  “Thirty?” cried Amy. “Where did the time go?”

  “You are not well,” the woman said curtly. “You need all the sleep you can get. For now, however, you’re also going to need to eat something. There are many things you must prepare yourself for. I’m going to help you through most of it, but you’re going to need help from all of us if you’re ever going to get home.”

  She lit a cigarette from which thin tendrils of smoke immediately started curling. They floated up toward the tall ceiling and dissipated into small clouds before being sucked away into ducts. Amy found she didn’t mind the scent of the cigarette, or the woman.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Gelda,” the woman answered quickly. “You will remember me once you start getting better. Don’t worry. We used to be good friends.”

  Amy wondered if that was why she didn’t mind the smell of the woman. She knew some things should be familiar to her, and smells seemed to come back to her more easily than sights or sounds. She wondered if Gelda knew her name.

  “Do you know my name than?” she asked politely. “If you can tell me my name, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Gelda hesitated. Where she had been picking out clothing for Amy, she stopped for just a brief moment. If Amy hadn’t been watching her intently, she would have never realized the woman had hesitated at all.

  “Edwardo should have told you,” Gelda said softly. “We cannot tell you your name, or mention any specific details about your old life. If we do, there is a possibility you will have parts of your memory destroyed when you go through the reclamation process. When we start rebuilding your memories, when you go through the treatments to reverse what this awful government has done to you, you must be fresh. That means that you cannot burden yourself with memories from your past.”

  Amy did not understand. She didn’t know what had happened to her and was starting to care less and less. All she really wanted was for her memory to come back and to find herself back home. In the depths of that despair, Gelda came over and wrapped an arm around her skinny shoulders.

  “There, there,” she coddled. “You need not worry. I know this is confusing, but you’ll know more in just a while.”

  Amy worried less after a few hours with Gelda and the group of people that inhabited the apartment. They stayed in a high rise on the outskirts of a New York city she had never heard of. The two men she had never met before were also very friendly, and so was her supposed friend. They all greeted her like a sick child, holding her hand a little too long when they said hello and making every attempt to be gentle. She found it somewhat confusing that everyone seemed to know about her ailment, but she figured she was the talk of the group.

  It wasn’t until later that night that she was really allowed out of her room. Though no one had said anything to make her think otherwise, they were sure to keep the door closed while she lay in bed resting. She received two meals during the day and all the sparkling water she could manage to get down, which seemed somewhat sour and salty at the same time. The view was beautiful from the room, and she found herself looking out through the blinds for most of the day instead of watching television or reading magazines.

  When the door opened and she was beckoned out, she was given proper attire that actually fit her. The jeans hugged her hips and thighs comfortably and her shirt was long enough and skinny enough to make her feel like a woman again. She smelled them as she put them on. They were clean enough t
o make her nose tingle.

  The main living space was full of life, food, and music. Everyone seemed to be having a good time as they drank alcohol and ate from the huge assortment of food that had been laid out before them. Amy was immediately happy. She smiled at all the wonderful smells and happy music. Somehow, this all felt right.

  She didn’t need anyone to guide her over to the food. Amy took the initiative and grabbed herself a heaping plate of chicken and mashed potatoes, some curry-spiced food and a large chunk of bread pudding. Although the men and Gelda were happy, they kept a distance from her. She felt at some points like she was being treated like a timid animal which they were afraid might bolt at the first sign of commotion.

  They left her alone until she got her first plate of food and found a place to eat. Gelda was the first to approach her. She handed her a large glass of champagne in which had been placed a single strawberry. Amy was happy to sip on it, yet found it strangely flavored. It had a saline taste. It wasn’t enough to turn her off though, so she ate and drank happily.

  “Thank you for doing this for me,” Amy said between bites of food.

  “We have been looking for you for a long time,” she said. Her too-red lips made Amy wonder whether or not she was dressing up to impress someone. “Though you just remember the last few days, this has been an ongoing struggle for months.”

  “Months?” Amy nearly choked. “I have been gone for months?”

  “What does it really matter whether you were gone for one month or one day,” Gelda stated flatly. “You cannot remember anything of your life so it is really of no consequence to you how long you’ve been gone.”

  Amy felt abashed by the statement. Though she knew it wasn’t designed to hurt her, she still felt as if it were a slight. She didn’t ask any more questions, but shoved her mouth full of bread pudding. Sweet and salty.

  “We are ensuring you are full of electrolytes,” Gelda said, reading Amy’s quizzical expression. “You need salt and potassium—we’re giving it to you through your food.”

  “Why so much?” Amy asked, smacking her tongue against the top of her mouth.

  “Because your treatment will take a lot of them away,” she responded. “We will start treating you tomorrow morning, which is why we celebrate now. You’ll go through something much like what you experienced on the ship, yet this treatment is designed to help you instead of harm you.”

  Amy felt a shiver of fear pass through her spine. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the machines that made her feel crazy before. She kept having nightmares of that yacht and had no intention of revisiting any of them willingly.

  “I don’t want that,” she blurted involuntarily.

  “I am sorry,” Gelda said gently. “But it is the only way you can be whole again.”

  “But…” Amy was scared. The food seemed less appetizing now, knowing she would be tortured again.

  However, if it meant that she could get her life back…

  The party died down after an hour or two and Amy looked toward a clock that tick-tocked away on one of the darkly painted walls. It was ten minutes to one in the morning and Amy was tired beyond belief. Her body felt as if she had just run a marathon and her mind began to wander toward bed. Gelda was more than happy to help put Amy to rest. She carefully helped her out of her shirt and refused to let Amy take her own pants off.

  Once nearly naked in front of the attractive, yet older woman, Gelda stepped back and eyed her from head to foot. Amy was surprised at the strange emotion she felt. Something deep inside of her that made Amy want to touch the other woman in a way that might seem inappropriate. She wondered briefly if Gelda had played some sort of sexual role in her life before she had lost her memory, but pushed it aside as rubbish. She could hardly remember the few days of her life and the confusing feeling of ambiguity was too much for her to handle.

  “You look stunning,” Gelda said, sensing the hesitation emanating from Amy. A suspicious smile parted her red lips.

  The next day they drove away from the city, up into the forested foothills to the west. Slowly, the group of men and women meandered through the winding roads farther away from humanity. After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled off the highway and headed down an old dirt road. There they quickly came upon something that looked like an old abandoned lumber mill. The way it loomed above the trees amongst the rubble made Amy’s skin crawl.

  “We will perform your treatment here,” Gelda said. Today she wore a very light sweater over something so tight it made Amy blush. Edwardo was with them, too, as were the other men who she had not bothered to remember names for. They all started unpacking equipment from the back of the vehicle while Gelda stood outside and smoked a cigarette near Amy.

  “We need the peace and quiet,” she explained, “so that your treatments will work effectively. If we are in the city, there might be distractions that would interrupt our session. This might prove fatal, or it might simply mean you’ll never have another memory again. It’s better we stay away from anyone and anything that might interrupt the process.”

  Amy acknowledged the fact and agreed absentmindedly. She had no idea what was going on and decided it was better if she remained ignorant. She simply wanted to be better. What Gelda had promised her was nearly instant memories, so she didn’t worry too much. After all, the fact that they were trying so hard to get her back to her family meant they were honestly good people. She doubted they would hurt her.

  Once the room was all set up, they led her in. A portable air conditioner poured freezing cold air into the roughly ten by ten foot space. If she didn’t feel claustrophobic enough inside the room, she realized that they had erected a bed upon which she was supposed to lay. The bed was equipped with restraints for her arms, legs, abdomen, and head.

  “What is this?” she stammered.

  “This is where your treatment will take place,” Edwardo said. “Don’t worry too much. The restraints are to ensure you don’t try to run away when the machine starts its work.”

  “You are going to strap me down?” Amy was obviously worried. “I don’t want to be strapped in here.”

  “This is the only way,” Gelda said reassuringly. “If we let you free, you’ll bolt for the door first chance you get. Then, we will have to strap you down anyway and start all over.”

  The decision was being made for Amy—she was going to be strapped in that room all by herself unless she simply refused. If she did, she had no idea what would happen. Instead of conceding that easily, she decided to test her luck.

  “I’m not going in there” she said flatly. “You’re not going to leave me in there alone. Either we find another way to do this, or I’ll live without my memories.”

  Everyone became still and looked at Amy with equal expressions. They were flat, stoic, and alien to her. Where nice people had once filled her with something she considered joy, terror now echoed through the silence.

  “Please stop acting crazy,” one of the men said, looking at her sideways as he worked inside the room. They were setting everything up as if it was going to be a cell for Amy. In the corner, hooked to power cables that disappeared through the thick walls, was a box. The box was something that made her shiver, as it had when they had taken it out of the car. It seemed as if it were simply made of steel, though there were certain aspects of it Amy thought might move. She remembered it, somehow, from the inside of the yacht.

  It was the box that had made her see such horrible things. It was the center of all evil.

  “You’re not going to like this choice,” whispered Gelda. “We were hoping you would simply comply, so we can get you home. I told you we are going to have to treat you a few times before you become yourself once more. It’s an unfortunate side effect of having been the subject of such terrible experiments in the first place. It’s going to hurt you, but you’ll have your memories back in no time.”

  “I thought this was voluntary,” she stammered, becoming more alarmed by the m
oment. “I thought that you were here to help me—to protect me.”

  “It is voluntary,” Gelda continued. “Even if you choose to leave this place, you’re going to find yourself in a tough spot. You can leave here, try to figure out what your life should be on your own. If you try really hard, you’ll be able to figure out who you once were. Though you might find out your true identity, you’ll never make it home—you’ll never be the same again. What we are giving you is a chance to get your life back.”

  “So either I do what you tell me, or you abandon me here?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not trying to help me very much.”

  “We are,” Edwardo said curtly. “Even if that means protecting you from yourself. We are going to help you. By your own orders…”

  “Shut your mouth,” Gelda hissed. She left no time for Amy to think about what Edwardo had said. Instead, she drove her palm into Amy’s stomach as hard as she could. It drove the wind from her lungs and contracted her diaphragm so no other air could possibly fill the cavity that had been left empty. Amy doubled over, but found a strong man on either side of her hauling her into the dark room without much of a fight.

  She could hardly breathe as the horror of her predicament finally came to light. She didn’t know if the people were going to help her or whether they were going to murder her. After all, she knew the people on that yacht had been murdered by one another. Perhaps they were part of some sick cult and she was going to be their precious sacrifice.

  Whatever the outcome would be, she knew now there would be no escape.

  Two unfortunate men hiked through the trees of northern New York in the crisp afternoon air. They had made it all the way from their cars to the old abandon mill, which just so happened to be where they were going to turn around. The cars that had pulled up didn’t really bother them. They had been through this hike many times in preparation for larger hikes they would take through the Appalachian Mountain Range when the weather got warmer. Each time they reached their turnaround point they would see cars, or parties, or teenagers defiling the area. The ten-mile hike they were undertaking was just the first of many they had planned.