Riley's Journey

by Parker, P. L. ;Edwards, Sandra

  * * *

  Dr. Collins gave Riley the promised tour, albeit the abbreviated version. For such a large facility, there were very few employees lurking about. Collins’ explanation was that it would pick up when the rest of the team arrived, but until then, a large work force was unnecessary. It sounded convincing, but Riley was curious as to why she had been instructed to be here in advance of the rest of the team.

  Dr. Collins didn’t seem interested in having Riley begin working, instead, she provided her with a number of books on survival in the wild, instructing her to read them as soon as possible and to pay attention to details.

  Later that day, she was taken to the staff exercise area and introduced to Jonas Whitehorse, the head of the facility’s security force. Mr. Whitehorse was an American Indian, tall, dark-skinned, with black hair worn in a single braid at the base of his skull. Muscles bulged from every body part, rock hard and unyielding. Nothing soft about this man. He began by explaining that his job was to teach her the skills she would need to survive in a hostile environment and the basics of self-defense.

  “Why do I need survival training and self-defense?” This didn’t sound good.

  “I get paid to do what these people want, and all I know is that I’ve been instructed to teach you,” was Jonas’ simple reply. His response troubled and confused her. It didn’t take a great deal of imagination to realize that she was way out of her depth with this guy and he didn’t appear to be the type to take that into consideration.

  “But I still don’t understand. I’m here to do research. Why do I need this kind of training?”

  His dark eyes were guarded. “A person never knows when self-defense or survival training just might come in handy.”

  For the next three hours, her life was a misery of running, jumping, crawling, dodging, rolling and whatever other inhumane torture her tormentor could dream up. At the end of the session, sweat dripping from her agonized body, Riley was convinced that she’d made a huge mistake in coming here. “Mr. Macho” looked as fresh as he did at the beginning. Grinning, he rewarded her with one tiny bit of praise, “You did okay for a greenhorn.”

  Glaring at him, her body a mass of aches and pains, she limped away, fully intent on spending the rest of the day in a hot tub with some sort of alcoholic relaxant.

  “Same time tomorrow,” he called at the last minute, just before she had made good her escape. Stopping, she turned, “Are you kidding, I have to suffer through this again?”

  “Every day for the next two weeks—that’s the plan.” He laughed at her scowling face. He wasn’t kidding; every spare moment she had, he was drilling her on hand-to-hand combat techniques, testing her endurance and quizzing her on wilderness survival.

  A week later, the rest of the team still hadn’t arrived, and when she asked Dr. Collins about it, her only reply was that there had been some sort of temporary delay and they would be arriving soon. Other than Riley’s sessions with Jonas, she had very little contact with any other residents at the facility.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Miles burst into Bethany’s office. “You have to stop this! You can’t send her there. It isn’t right!”

  Bethany looked up from her computer, “We’ve already gone over this a hundred times, and my answer is the same.”

  “I won’t let you! I’ll contact the authorities and have a restraining order put on you.” Nervously, Miles shifted from one foot to the other, standard movements when he was agitated.

  “And if you do that, what will you tell the funding committee when I tell them about the supposed research trips you’ve been taking on their money?”

  He stammered. “Wha...what do you mean?”

  “I mean those trips to the Bahamas, you know, the ones where all your expenses, including visits to the nearest prostitute, are paid by our research funds.” Bethany wasn’t about to let this weasel foil her plans. She’d held onto this information for just such a contingency.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” he stuttered. “Besides, you don’t have any proof.”

  Bethany opened her desk, taking out a stack of papers. “I have the proof right here, including a tape documenting my conversation with a Ms.—let’s see…I believe her name was Desiree or maybe Desire—anyway, she had quite a lot to say about you. It’s very simple. Either you help me or you don’t,” she stated calmly. “I’ll do what I have to do, and if you even think of stopping me, you’ll never work again. I’ll see to that. So either shut up and help me, or be prepared to spend some time in some nice little place away from the rest of the world where you’ll have your choice of boyfriends, probably a whole bunch of them.” Her threat hung ominously in the air.

  Miles’ pudgy face blanched. Nervously, he cleared his throat, “So when does this happen?”

  Bethany speculated briefly. “By my calculations, the window of opportunity is best on Friday and that’s what we’ll shoot for. Are you with me, or not?”

  Miles hung his head miserably, his face flushed. “What choice do I have? But I want it on record that I strongly object. The girl deserves a choice.”

  “What caused this surfeit of morals?” She sneered, knowing too well his past indiscretions and lack of ethics.

  “I might have misused funds a time or two, but I would never stoop to murder!”

  “Murder! I’m not murdering her! I’m giving Nathan hope.” Tears flooded her eyes and her lips trembled. Though the project had made some major advances, the funding committee had opted to close it down and gift the money elsewhere. Bethany had been devastated. Once the project closed, Nathan would be totally alone and lost forever. She couldn’t change the “lost forever” part of the deal, but she could change the “totally alone.”

  “What do you call it,” he ground out. “Sending her there without telling her what she’s facing is as good as outright killing her.”

  “Nathan’s been there for five years and he’s still alive,” she countered, not allowing doubts or guilt to change her course of action.

  Miles tried one last time. “Nathan had a choice. He chose to go! You’ve never let her make any choices that mattered.”

  Bethany’s chin lifted stubbornly, her eyes flashing. “Nathan was left with no choices either. He went because that was the only thing he could do. So don’t tell me about right and wrong, black and white! I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks! I care about Nathan! Now leave me alone, I’ve got work to do. I suggest you do the same.” The matter was closed, she had chosen her course of action and she was sticking to it, come hell or high water.

  Left alone, she drafted a message to Nathan. Later she would print it and put it in a leather pouch she intended to send with Riley. If everything went as planned, Riley would deliver the pouch to Nathan and Bethany’s last wishes and luck would go with them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  If anything, Jonas’ sessions intensified. Every aspect of Riley’s training centered on survival and her contact with Dr. Collins was practically nonexistent. Jonas pushed her hard every day and, as a result, she toned down fast. The unwanted layer of fat carried since high school miraculously disappeared with the arduous training and the diet he forced on her. Everything she ate was either meat or simple vegetables, and aimed at building muscle mass—totally bland and not geared toward culinary enjoyment. Jonas refused to answer any of her questions, reiterating over and over that he was only there to train her.

  Finally, on Thursday, he opened up somewhat when she once again quizzed him. “Come on, Jonas, you have to know something about this place?”

  “My job is security. I keep the place secure. Other than that, I don’t stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “You have to know something! Even someone who doesn’t stick his nose in picks up some information after they’ve been in a place for awhile.”

  He looked at her, considering, his eyes boring into her. “I had a best friend. He and I worked security around here. Me all the time. Him—just part-time. About
five years ago, he had a run of back luck and then he disappeared. He was here and then he was gone. I haven’t see or heard from him since. I searched for him for about a year and then I gave up. That’s all I know.”

  “Do you think he was killed?” Fearfully she looked around the gym, her skin crawling. “Has anything else like that happened?”

  “If he was killed, they hid the body well. But whatever happened, it had something to do with this place. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “What was his name?”

  “His name was Nathan Collins.”

  “Collins? You mean like in Dr. Collins?”

  “Yeah, her nephew. He got me the job here. Him and me—we were compadres. Worked Black Ops for the Government for a long time. Then he disappeared.”

  “What do you suppose happened?”

  “I told you all I plan to. Session’s over with.” He dismissed her casually, but as she started to leave, he stopped her. “This was our last day. You’ve done well for a newbie. Don’t forget what I’ve taught you and watch your back.” He strode out of the room, not looking back.

  On Friday morning, several hours before dawn, Dr. Collins banged on Riley’s door. Staggering from bed and sleep disoriented, Riley fumbled with the lock and finally worked the door free. Dr. Collins entered briskly, carrying a large, weighty bundle which she thrust into Riley’s arms. “I want you to strip down to nothing and put these on.” Riley dropped the bag onto her bed and rummaged through the contents. Everything was fashioned from either leather or animal skins—heavy beyond belief.

  “Whatever for?”

  “Today’s the day we leave to meet with the other team members. Instead of coming here, they went right to the main site. They thought it would save time.” Dr. Collins averted her face while she spoke.

  Riley had a moment of disquiet. “Is everything all right?” She questioned. “I get the distinct impression something isn’t quite kosher.”

  Dr. Collins faced her, her face devoid of emotion. “Everything’s fine—just change into the clothes. Where we are going, the people are pretty primitive and we need to blend in.” Riley noticed that Dr. Collins wore her usual tan slacks and white polo shirt.

  “What about you? Why haven’t you changed?”

  “I brought these to you first. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Get changed and meet me in the main research building.” She left as quickly as she came.

  Riley undressed and redressed in the clothing Dr. Collins had provided. There were loose pull-on leather pants, the waistband a mere leather thong. They felt weird without underwear so she took them off and slipped on a pair of low riders, hoping no one would notice. Next she donned a soft leather tunic which fell to mid-thigh. Heavy outer clothing was also provided, along with fur-lined boots. By the time she had finished dressing, she was sweating like a pig in the air conditioned room. She couldn’t imagine where they would be going that required such heavy, layered clothing. Eskimos dressed like this, didn’t they? Maybe not quite this way, but similar, if she had her facts right. At the last moment, she slipped the tiny photograph of her parents into the pocket of her parka. She didn’t know how long she would be gone and she wasn’t going without it.

  Riley waddled over to the main research building, feeling like a giant sumo wrestler, and barely able to move under the weight of the heavy outer clothing. The temperature outside was far too warm for this gear. It was definitely not made for warmer climates and the Arctic took first place on her list of possible destinations.

  Dr. Collins was nowhere to be seen so Riley sat on the steps and waited for her arrival. A few moments later, Miles opened the door, waving her in. He seemed nervous and jumpy, offering no conversation and refusing to look at her. Riley grew more anxious as the minutes passed. Finally, Dr. Collins arrived, dressed in much the same attire as Riley. She handed Riley a heavily laden pack. “Will you carry this for me? I’ve got other equipment I need to take.” Miles snorted and turned away.

  Riley nodded as Dr. Collins helped her to strap the pack on then led her into another room that had been previously designated as off limits. Equipment of unknown purposes ringed the room, complete with flashing lights, glowing buttons and keyboards, and at the far end, a huge door covered half the wall. Dr. Collins’ movements were frenzied, hurrying this way and that, pushing buttons, adjusting equipment, confusing Riley even more. Finally, Dr. Collins nodded to herself and once again took Riley’s arm, leading her to the door at the far end.

  “Go on ahead through this door. I’m going to go outside and drive the van around and pick you up. There’s some heavy equipment in there that we need to take as well and it’ll be easier to load it straight from the dock area.” She looked at Riley strangely. “There’s a note inside the pack that needs to be delivered to one of the members of the research team when we arrive. Remember to give it to him.”

  Riley nodded, more mystified than ever. “Do you have the equipment I’ll need for my research?”

  Dr. Collins’ lips tightened perceptibly. “Everything you need is either in the pack or we’ll load it at the dock out back. You’ll have everything you need. I’ve planned for every contingency.” She turned to go, but then stopped. “I hope this turns out to be a good thing for you. I really do.” Without any further comments, she hurried off.

  It was a strange thing to say, especially coming from a woman who had barely spoken to her for two weeks.

  The door opened and Riley stepped through into a long dark corridor. The door shut immediately behind her. Mystified, she moved down the hall towards a lighted area at the end. This was getting weirder and weirder! Her stomach was queasy and she was feeling dizzy, probably from nerves.

  As she reached the end of the corridor, air pressure inside of the corridor decreased dramatically and her breath left her in a whoosh. Lights flashed and rivulets of color danced in front of her eyes. She felt like she was floating. It only lasted a few seconds and then she was standing out in the open, outside the facility, she assumed. Stretching as far as the eye could see was a frozen wilderness, broken up by forests of evergreens and stands of rock. She turned back, expecting to see the research facility—but the landscape was empty! No door, no facility—absolutely nothing! She was standing alone in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly afraid, she called out. “Dr. Collins!” She yelled again. “Dr. Collins, where are you?”

  Her voice echoed in the distance, unanswered. She tried again, yelling louder this time. “Dr. Collins, Miles, Jonas, anyone! Can you hear me?” Still nothing. An eerie silence pervaded the wide open expanse. A large bird circled overhead, spiraling as he hunted, but nothing else stirred. She was growing more frightened by the moment.

  The pack suddenly seemed too heavy, and unhooking it, she dropped it to the ground. Opening it, she searched through the contents for a cell phone or a walkie-talkie or some sort of communication device. The only things she found were a very large pack of jerked meat wrapped in soft chamois, some type of skin bag holding water, several knives of varying sizes with bone handles, the blades made from some dark rock—flint perhaps—a large soft skin for who knew whatever purpose, a long thin braided rope or string with a fishhook made from bone or shell, a wooden bowl and cup of poor design and shape, as well as wooden eating utensils, a wooden comb, miscellaneous unidentifiable objects that seemed vaguely familiar, and a large manila envelope with the name, Nathan, written on the outside. Pretty pathetic! Angry as well as frightened, she tore open the envelope, hoping it held some answers as to why she was here. The short note read:

  My Dear Nathan, I have not abandoned you. I can’t bear to think of you there alone. You deserve so much more. The young woman, Riley, was chosen from a select group of applicants. I make no apology for my actions. I do this out of love for you. Forgive me and ask Riley to forgive me as well. Take care of her and yourself. There will be no more communications. The funding for my research has been pulled and the facility will be closed in the near future. I have include
d with this note, a map detailing areas where Cro-Magnon man might be found. May God Bless and Keep You. Your Loving Aunt, Bethany.

  Cro-Magnon? Give me a break! Totally disgusted, Riley considered the possibility that Dr. Collins was either on drugs or in the throes of some outlandish hallucination. The “map” was nothing more than a few lines on a cured animal skin, rather like something from a child’s treasure hunt. Nothing of any substance and certainly not detailing any land masses she recognized from the outline. Frustrated, she gathered up the objects and stuffed them back in the pack, realizing she might need them later. At the last second, she kept out the largest knife and tucked it under a strap of the pack where it could be easily accessed if needed. Jonas’ training whispered through her mind, watch your back!

  The silence was eerie and her anxiety increased. Self-preservation dictated that she find a place to hide, but she was not going to budge from this spot. Surely someone would come for her if she just waited long enough. That was originally the plan as she understood it and that was what she was going to do. Maybe she was just overreacting and they just were running late.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hours later, Riley was still waiting and growing colder and angrier by the minute. She pulled the skin from the pack and wrapped it around her for added warmth. If she only had some matches, she could build a fire. Wait just one second! She remembered that Jonas had worked with her one afternoon, making a fire using a drill stick, and unless she was mistaken, the pack contained one of those. Moving over to the nearest stand of trees, she foraged for dry tinder, managing to gather a small supply. She packed the snow down, forming a small bowl-shaped indentation and then lined it with stones and a layer of the dried tinder. Now all she needed was some fire.

  Sitting down, Riley braced the drill stick on a small piece of flat dry tinder on top of the hearth stick, as Jonas called it, and wrapped the bow string around as he had instructed. Okay, she was ready. Back and forth, back and forth, she spun the drill stick as fast as she could, applying pressure down as hard as possible. She wished she had paid more attention to this part of the training. After about twenty minutes of this, and about the time her arms were beginning to give out, a small puff of smoke drifted up. Encouraged, she spun the stick faster until a small flame sparked. Barely breathing, she lifted the hearth stick up, carefully blowing on the tiny flame. Setting it down on the tinder, she added more of the smallest dried sticks, working slowly and carefully, fearful of smothering the flame, but it kept burning and soon she had a small fire burning.