He poured three fingers of brown liquid into a glass, draining it with two gulps. The usual guilt took hold of him. The memory of drinking whisky with Caspar and Rich at his kitchen table. The memory of Sarin injecting him and not Cate.
A hundred other people and not Cate.
The glass smashed against the wall before he realized he had thrown it.
If he could turn back time, she could have that injection. He took a pull from the bottle and closed his eyes.
Turning back time is such a stupid dream.
Settling in the chair, he drifted away to his stronghold.
His island was roughly circular and surrounded by ocean. A golden sandy beach ringed the island, dotted with palm trees that bent out towards the water. Further inland Banyan, Conifers and Flame trees formed a thick forest. The woodland sloped upwards around the base of a cone shaped mountain. Atop the mountain, a castle was carved into the rock. Four square towers at each corner, each topped with a conical spire
He stood on the beach leaning on the counter of his beach bar. A structure made from bamboo poles and covered with faded leaves. He watched the ocean rise and fall. It lapped onto the beach in time with his breathing.
The water drew him towards it and he walked forward to splash in the surf. His footprints washing away behind him. He squinted up at bright blue sky and breathed in the briny scent of the water. The sun always shined in his stronghold. A stark contrast to the dusty dark passages of the mine.
Images of the mine distracted him enough to break his concentration. He was pulled back into reality, like the feel of gravity pushing him down. He took another pull of JD and turned his back to the window. He was becoming increasingly fearful of unlit passages. The call of the mine was to enter and disappear forever.
After another swallow of JD, he wandered into the meeting room, clutching the bottle. It would be another day of pleading looks and questions. Both the mine and miners seemed to feed from him, exhausting his energy and spirit.
Slumping in a chair and guzzling from the bottle, he stared at the wall. Its smooth surface was broken by small vertical lines. He hadn’t noticed them before. Finely etched onto the brown facade and almost invisible unless you looked at the right angle.
He rose unsteadily and knocked on the panel. It sounded hollow. He tapped the surrounding wall, a different pitch between the thin lines. He hit it harder and kicked until a crack appeared between two sheets of boarding. Heart racing, he searched the room for a tool to wedge open the crack.
He scattered the room’s contents until he found a screwdriver. The wall panel snapped open with a levered action, flapping down on a hinge. Inside was a flat rectangular box stamped with the word, Tracker.
Logan pulled out the box, testing the weight and placed it down on the table. It had to be Caspar’s, the mine had been abandoned for years and this box was new.
With trembling fingers, he pulled open the two flaps and peered inside. Pink tissue paper covered a grey fabric. The material was like nothing he had ever seen. Smooth but hairy, heavy but supple. Its color shifted between grey and black as he moved his head. It seemed to intentionally contradict any word to describe it
He held it out by the shoulder sections, the rest dropping towards the floor. His alcohol soaked brain sparked into life and he realized what it was.
A Ghost cloak.
Logan laid the cloak on the table to have a better inspection. Feeling the material and checking pockets. Inside the cloak was a black rubber body suit. The cloak was fixed to the body at its legs, back, arms and head. He kicked off his clothes and climbed into the suit, struggling with the unfamiliar fit.
The body suit molded itself around him and cloak almost floated behind. He pulled over the balaclava and dragged up the hood. Flapping his arms and kicking his legs until it billowed around him.
He moved around the room, throwing out the cape and jumping in the air. It was like wearing a light suit of armor.
There could be only one reason why Caspar had this cloak. It explained a lot about his friend’s personality, intenseness and even injuries. He was a Ghost. Logan tried to cross reference memories of Caspar against what he knew about Ghosts.
If he was a Ghost, it seemed strange that he would be involved in helping people. Logan picked up the JD without thinking. Lifting the bottle to his mouth then stopping before it touched his lips. He stared at the label and sniffed the oaky vanilla alcohol. Mouth watering, he slammed the bottle back on the table and screwed the lid back on.
He thought of Caspar again, saving them while fighting the government. He’d taken the world on his shoulders for them and deserved their loyalty.
Logan swept from the room and out of the cabin. Keeping to the shadows that hugged the rock walls, he was part of the darkness. A Ghost. The yawning tunnel openings invited him to explore.
At the sound of a voice, he embraced the rock face and froze. Two figures walked past, torches waving up and down and talking in hushed voices. They past by without any acknowledgement or sign they has seen him.
Camouflaged by shadows he made his way to the accommodation blocks. He watched miners entering and leaving, drifting to the hospital or the workshop. There was sorrow on every face, in every movement. Forced expressions and transient smiles on hollow worn out skulls, reflected in flickering light. It was sadness, a discordant reality that he had been part of but not noticed.
Desperate for the embrace of darkness, Logan sprinted away from the emptiness of their lives. He bounded as he ran, leaping to touch the ceiling. Jumping onto the conveyor belt and hopping between missing sections. He dropped to the ground in a crouch, torch beam scanning the walls.
The miners needed him to be strong.
In their underground world, only he could keep them alive. He was strengthened by fourth gen nanos, Caspar’s plans and now a Ghost cloak. They deserved to share Caspar’s strength, his strength.
The salty rock earth crunched as he spun towards their camp. He tensed then sprang forward, cloak flying behind him as he sprinted back towards his people.
#
Logan pushed open the workshop entrance door and whistled. “Are you guys working?”
The men looked at him with curious glances and half smiles. Jarod appeared from the doorway of the rear room, cleaning his hands with a rag. What did he do in that room that required endless hand wiping?
“Nice to see you here,” Jarod said.
Sean rushed forward and grabbed his elbow. “Check this out.”
Logan was guided to the 3D printer. Its mechanical arm jerking up and down as it created some form of circular disc. Sean beamed and tapped the glass case. “It’s a part from the old excavator. We took it apart to replicate the rusted sections.”
“I’d like to see one of those monsters tear into a wall,” Logan said, tossing the Ghost cloak at him.
Sean reflexively caught it then began rubbing the material between his fingers.
“It’s a Ghost cloak,” Logan said.
Sean’s head jerked up. “No way. Where the hell did you find this?”
“Take a look and let me know what you think,” Logan said.
“I will, I will,” he replied, walking towards a bench at the far side of the room.
“Jackson, you and Richards are supposed to be in the kitchen,” Jarod said.
One man sighed, the other closed his eyes.
“Here you go guys,” Logan said and handed each a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Take a break after you finish.”
Jackson took the bottle and whistled. He screwed off the cap and took a long slug. Smacking his mouth and wiping his lips. “Oh yeah.”
Logan led the two men out of the workshop and towards the central cavern. Jackson pulled open the double doors and triggered the pressure change.
“How are things?” Logan asked.
“How do you think?” Richards replied.
Logan was used to his unique way of answering questions. Richards always imagined he was th
e cleverest person in the room.
“We’re keeping busy,” Jackson replied. “Plenty of things to occupy our time in here. I’m working on a bullet proof shield for the soldiers.”
“We might need those soon.”
“Never thought I’d join the army.”
They walked through the central shaft towards the kitchen, navigating their way between tables filled with quiet conversation. The gentle hum was punctuated by clinking of cutlery on bowls and plates. An aroma of boiled cabbage wafted towards them.
A small queue of people lined up at a steel table in front of the open plan kitchen. Orderlies at the front were ladling out lumpy grey porridge into white plastic bowls. Next to the steaming porridge were trays of raisins and nuts. At the end of the table was a basket of flatbread next to a tub of marmalade.
Fox shouted orders from behind steel kitchen equipment. Half hearted replies answered him along with the rattle of metal and plastic. A row of sweating men and women worked with their heads down. Stirring, chopping, washing and cleaning in hot steamy air. The place was alive with stressful energy.
Fox spotted them lurking by the counter and stomped over. “Oven three has broken door.”
“And what would you like us to do?” Richards asked.
Fox’s face creased into a scowl.
Before Fox could shout an obscenity, Logan held up his hand. “Get on with it guys for god’s sake.”
Richards’ eyes bulged in response. His mouth opened and his finger pointed over Logan’s shoulder. He was about to ask what was wrong when pain shot through his back. He grunted then gasped as a second lightning bolt of pain tore through his shoulder.
There was muffled shouting and he was pushed to the side. With no bodily control, he slipped to the floor. Random legs and shoes moved before his eyes in strange dancing pattern. He tried to breathe but could only take a small gulp of air. Opposite him, a large bag of pasta had been ripped open, spiral pieces spilling out. Thick red blood crawled towards the pasta, coating it like a tomato sauce.
Chapter 17
At the head of the oval conference table, Avery sat clenching and unclenching her fists. Her screen lay face down in front of her. The five humorless faces of her command team assembled around the table. Their grim expressions matched her own.
For a full week she had struggled to maintain self control. Preventing sleep for more than two hours to avoid losing consciousness when she awoke. The lack of sleep left her with a dull headache and metallic taste in her mouth. She was forgetting names and had to think carefully in command team meetings. In her quarters she could sit and day dream, outside she was jumpy and anxious.
Below the table, she pulled on her pinkie finger with her right trembling hand. She glanced down at her flexi screen again. Her lifeline. “Before we wrap this up, I want a review.”
“Of what?” Kaya asked.
“Events since lockdown.” Avery replied.
Her brain and mouth seemed out of sync as she spoke. Watching her words float in the air then land on the ears of her team. Even she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to discuss.
“I think what the Commander is saying is that we need to review our progress,” Cain added.
“We could bring in more drills?” Daniels said.
“Not more drills,” Avery said, waving his words away like buzzing flies.
“I don’t think this is appropriate,” Cain said.
She was aware her question was a prod but couldn’t help it. The idea had popped into her head and now she couldn’t shake it. There was a mixed reaction around the table. Cain scowling while Daniels and Kaya appeared confused.
“Has anyone checked external weather readings?” Avery asked.
“This really isn’t necessary,” Cain said. “Perhaps we could drill down into this in my lab?”
“My role is to manage the facility and I deem it necessary,” Avery continued.
Although confused herself about the conversation, she was convinced for some reason that her point was an extremely important one.
“That’s quite enough,” Cain said, rising to her feet.
Avery bit back her reply. What were they actually arguing about? Were they arguing? It seemed a very large amount of effort for little reward.
“If there is no other business?” Avery asked, half rising and motioning towards the door. “This meeting is adjourned.”
“Commander-” Cain said.
“Not now.” Avery interrupted. “I’m extremely busy.”
Ringo was waiting outside and detached from the wall like a spy as she walked past. He trotted in front of her to open the staircase door and allow her to walk through the opening. The door closed behind them with a soft click, followed by Ringo’s tapping footsteps on the mezzanine stairs. She half turned to watch him. His movements weren’t mechanical, he wasn’t a robot. He trotted causally down the steps, staring at the smooth grey walls and even touching a seam in the steel sheeting.
Back in her quarters, Avery slumped onto her bed. She set a two hour alarm on the bedside clock then lay back and closed her eyes.
Seemingly moments later, she winced as the alarm woke her. Painful flashes of lightning lashed her temples, her tongue rubbed against a dry mouth and bile rose in her throat.
Another day in paradise.
Before she could drift back to sleep, Avery rolled off the bed. She stood swaying then staggered to the kitchen.
Sipping a bottle of water, she slipped onto the spinning bike saddle. Pedaling gently at first to get her body moving and then pumping her legs. She passed her first wind and settled into a steady rhythm, replaying the afternoon meeting in her mind.
Her concentration was broken by a sound. She took a dazed moment to realize it was the warbling door alarm. Ringo’s pockmarked face no doubt leering into the camera outside.
Instead of Ringo, Doctor Burns stood outside frantically waving. As Avery opened the door, he pushed his way past her into the room. Burns threw himself onto a sofa, his rolled flexi screen falling noisily onto the coffee table. Avery glanced between him and the door.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” he said, blinking eyes frenzied.
Burns was manically rubbing his scarred left forearm. He caught her gaze and pulled down his sleeve. Sitting up straighter and regaining a degree of composure. “I couldn’t trust you were actually you.”
“What’s happening in here?”
“A long and frankly tragic tale. I’ve reached an impasse. A fork in my road.”
Avery walked to the sofa and sat down, gesturing to the fidgeting man to stay seated. He seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. His words delivered with rapid fire.
“Clam down and explain.”
“Scientific experimentation and observations direct us to empirical truths. We tested and observed the influence of nano technology on a human body.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Cain doesn’t either, its driving her to more and more drastic action. I’ve reminded her that scientific modeling becomes very odd when applied to people.”
“I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Eximus.” Burns exhaled. His eyes looked pleadingly into Avery’s but she stared blankly back at him.
“Where to begin,” he said, clenching a fist then biting it. “I’ve spent my career enhancing the human body to achieve the next level of evolution. Protect the central nervous system in an improved exoskeleton.”
“Stop, please. In laymen’s terms,” Avery interrupted.
Burns blinked so hard, he seemed on the verge of fainting. He shook his head then ran hands over his face. “We have exceeded our capacity to understand and control technology.”
The man was a stark contrast to others in the bunker but she was now beginning to think he was insane. “So are you saying you don’t know what’s happening?”
“For fifteen years I’ve been at the cutting edge of nano development. I was present when the first human pati
ent was injected. I thought we were saving the world.”
A cold feeling spread across Avery’s back and shoulders.
Burns placed his palms together. “We’ve invited a wolf into the chicken coop.”
“You’re speaking in riddles. What have you done? What’s Eximus?”
“We’re Transhuman. Well I suppose we always have been but nanos are doing more than just enhancing our bodies. They’re causing a disconnection between the conscious and subconscious. It’s like listening to music and reading, but you don’t hear the music.”
Avery let out a short involuntarily laugh. “How?”
Burns sat with his head in his hands, shoulders rising and falling. “Interference with frontostriatal circuits.” He groaned and shook his head. Turning his palms upwards in a gesture that suggested she would never understand.
He was a mess. Avery left him alone and poured a glass of water, gulping it down in three swallows. “Water?”
“Please.”
Burns took the offered glass and held up an open flexi screen. “This may explain.”
The screen showed a movie play icon in its centre. Avery touched the icon and a first person view of outer space appeared. The display moved past planetary bodies and moons, heading straight for Earth. It zoomed down to the US and then a white steel framed building covered in mirrored glass. It stopped in an office where a man sat behind a white table.
The man was seated in a plump black swivel chair and dressed in a simple blue suit with white shirt. Behind him, the wall was filled with brown book spines, titles out of focus. The man appeared to be on the lower side of middle age, sparkling blue eyes, lightly tanned skin and short black hair. It was a handsome face that could belong to any bank manager or CEO.
“Welcome home.”
“The history of our human race can be traced from caveman to astronaut. Humble beginnings as hunter gatherers to masters of our world. We were gifted a unique opportunity by an unknown father, to evolve on a habitable planet.
Eximus Page 17
