He wasn’t sure why. It was really just a hunch, but he decided he would try one number anyhow. Limbus. “How can I help you, Mr. Dunston?” the voice answered. It was Ms. Spravedlnost. How had she known he would be calling? Surely this 800 number couldn’t be her direct line.
It was night, and he hadn’t expected anyone to answer, let alone someone who would know his name. He wasn’t sure what to say, and he had to fight the urge to hang up.
It came out without his meaning to. It was like a rush of fear that he couldn’t control. “I want out of this job,” he said. “It’s creepy. Everyone is a freak. I don’t belong here.”
“I see,” said Ms. Spravedlnost. “You do understand that you signed a contract, don’t you Mr. Dunston? You agreed to provide services in exchange for a very generous compensation.”
“Yeah, well these guys here are telling me that no one ever leaves.”
“I am certain many employees choose to stay, given the benefits of the job and the particular nature of the recruiting pool.”
“Well, what if I want to leave now?”
“That isn’t an option,” Ms. Spravedlnost said.
“Maybe it’s not an option you like, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. What happens if I leave now?”
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. “You may have noticed, Mr. Dunston, that the lab is engaged in activities not entirely sanctioned by the government of the United States or, indeed, most other established states. North Korea conducts some similar work, but otherwise facilities such as the one that employs you are, practically speaking, black sites.”
“So if I break my contract, they’ll kill me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You will be removed from the threat pool,” Ms. Spravedlnost explained, “one way or another. Certainly killing you would be the most efficient and merciful option, but by no means the only one.”
“But they won’t ever let me walk away.”
“After you have been there a while, you might not want to walk away, or you might feel a degree of loyalty that renders you non-threatening. In either case, I cannot recommend breaking your contract, particularly so soon after starting your employment. In all likelihood, you are merely experiencing a natural period of adjustment. I must recommend giving yourself more time to settle in, particularly since the alternative could be most disagreeable for all involved.”
“The thing is,” Chip explained, “you’re not giving me a lot of options. I don’t respond well when I’m threatened. I’m known for that.”
“Yes, you are, Mr. Dunston,” Ms. Spravedlnost said.
“Meaning what?” Chip demanded, not liking how shrill his voice had become.
“Meaning,” she said, “that you are precisely where you need to be. Good night, Mr. Dunston.”
The connection broke off. Chip tried to redial, but the call did not go through. He tried to call the only other number he had in his history—a local pizza place—just to see what would happen, and the call did not connect either. He was shut off from the outside world. He sat there, holding his phone, which was now utterly useless.
Except it wasn’t. He could take pictures and videos, which meant evidence of whatever it was they were doing here. He could expose the lab, and then they’d have to let him go. He didn’t want to be a snitch, since he was a man of action, not someone who ran to the media or, even worse, the government. Still, what other choice did he have?
*
The next morning, after breakfast, Chip pretended to have forgotten something in his room, and let Lester and Gregory enter the facility without him. He usually worked at a fairly casual pace throughout the day, but today he figured he would show up after lunch and double time it through his rounds. If he worked at top speed, cut a few corners, and stayed a little late— and let a few of the lab animals go hungry—he should be able to squeak by, especially if he made up for any lapses the next day.
It was possible someone might notice he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and certainly the security cameras throughout the facility would prove he had skipped the morning shift, but that evidence would only matter if someone was actively looking. If that happened, Chip was going to have bigger problems.
Chip remained in his room with the door opened all morning. He kept his phone plugged in so he could play games without running down the battery. There was nothing else for him to do with his time. The Komodo dragons came by and sniffed at him, but he shooed them away from the bed. Eventually, they took up a spot near the window where the sun heated the hardwood floor.
At exactly 10:30, he heard the door to the lab hiss open. There was the sound of feet shuffling. Then he heard the scrape of furniture from the living room, and from the kitchen the clatter of dishes and the sound of running water.
Chip quietly slipped down the stairs, his camera phone turned to video. He moved as quietly as he could, though stealth was not really his strong suit. Even so, he managed to make it down the stairs with hardly a creak. The kitchen was around the corner from the living room, so he decided to press his back against the wall and gently move the phone so he could use it to get a look without exposing himself.
He saw three of them in the kitchen, and at first his eyes couldn’t register what he was looking at, like someone had slipped the wrong image into a slide show. His mind told him that something was wrong, but beyond that nothing made sense.
Then he realized that this wasn’t an error. He hadn’t picked up on some random video feed. This was real. They were real.
None of the things in the kitchen were more than four feet tall, with bodies like monkeys, but hairless and with strangely human faces. They were naked, with grub-white skin, and seemed entirely sexless. They were agile, moving about the kitchen quickly and with strange focus, almost as though they’d been hypnotized.
The creatures grabbed and moved and manipulated their way around the kitchen with long-fingered hands. There was no getting around the fact that they were touching the food that Chip would soon be eating. It was disgusting and wrong, and that was probably why Chip dropped his phone.
The creatures stopped working when they heard the sound. They turned to look, their eyes wide and alien. They stood frozen as Chip crouched down to pick up his phone, hoping that he could somehow retrieve it before the creatures noticed him, but now they were studying him with their dark, expressionless eyes. He watched their naked bodies for signs of tensing, wondering if they were going to spring at him.
Instead, after a brief pause in which their large, almost colorless eyes, washed over him, trying to read him as though he were as strange to them as they were to him, they simply returned to their work. First, one picked up a dish and began to scrub it under a still-running faucet. Another returned to carefully chopping vegetables. A third, which had been cleaning in the living room, picked up its feather duster.
Chip, having regained control of his phone, began to record the creatures, this time without stealth. He moved from room to room, tracking their motions as they went about their work with relentless focus and determination. They were the perfect servants, he realized. This was the big secret, what they were developing behind all the security at the lab. These things were going to change the world with a new breed of uncomplaining slaves. First the lab was going to have to convince the government to allow their production, but once that happened, everything was going to change.
Big government was always getting in the way of progress, and the fact that these creatures were being kept a secret only proved that. The lab should have been able to proclaim their existence, to let the orders and the cash come pouring in, but instead they had to keep it under wraps. It wasn’t fair, but it was a reality that Chip could exploit. The lab wanted them kept secret, and Chip was in a position to expose them.
Once he’d recorded the creatures going about their business, Chip decided to prod them, so to speak, a little. He turned the camera on one of the creatures, which had just put a tray
of baked ziti into the oven.
“Hello,” he said. “Can you understand me?”
The creature studied him for a moment, and then nodded.
“Can you speak?”
It continued to stare at him, but it did not respond.
These things, he reasoned, if they could not speak or communicate were probably designed to follow orders. The only question was if they would obey his orders. Obviously they had to be able to take commands, but would they listen to anyone, or just a trainer?
“Go stand in the corner,” he told the creature.
It obeyed him at once, moving quickly, if unhurriedly to stand in the corner, where it adopted a posture of perfect patience.
There was some kind of angle to be played in this. He just didn’t know what it was yet.
When the creatures were finished cleaning, they moved to the door. Chip wanted to know if they would return to wherever they were housed or if they had more work to do. He was hoping it was the first. It would be useful to know where they were kept.
Chip caught a break here. The creatures moved swiftly through the hall to a room to which he did not have access. One of the creatures, he saw, wore a key card on a string around its neck. Once it had swiped the card, Chip—thinking quickly, as was his way—told it to hold open the door and hand him the key.
It paused for a moment, but then it obeyed. Chip stood there, holding the card in his hand. It was hot from its proximity to the creature’s pale body, and that was kind of gross, but he felt sure that he had just gained a distinct advantage, even if he did not know what it was.
The creatures vanished inside their room. He wondered if they had extra key cards in there. If not, they might end up starving to death. Also, there might not be anyone to make his dinner and clean his room, which would be a disappointment.
On a whim, Chip walked over to the room Janice had entered the previous day. The card unlocked it. He didn’t go inside. He didn’t need to. He realized that creatures who obeyed orders by their very nature did not need restrictions. They were no security threat, and it was very likely that Chip now possessed a key to every door in the facility.
Suddenly, just like that night three years ago when a teenager had thought to intimidate him, the tables had turned. Those who imagined him powerless were in for a big surprise. Chip still did not know exactly how he was going use all of these developments to his advantage, but he would find a way, and he needed it to be soon.
*
He only had half an hour until lunch, but he decided to get started on his work anyhow. The sooner he started, the less he’d have to make up.
Lunch was weird. He didn’t know how he felt about eating food prepared by those little monsters. On the other hand, he’d had the ziti before, and it was always really delicious. The key, Lester had explained, was that they used a béchamel sauce instead of ricotta. During the meal, Chip considered showing Lester and Gregory the videos he’d taken, but he knew those guys wouldn’t side with him. They wouldn’t care what kind of creatures were handling their food. That’s just how they were. They were lazy. They wanted a handout, like so many other people in this country. They weren’t willing to fight for what they believed in. Chip wasn’t sure what he believed in, but freedom had to be on the list.
Back inside the lab after lunch, his belly full of pasta, he was feeling good. He had the upper hand. He had a key card that would take him anywhere. He had explosive evidence on his phone. All he needed was Janice to come with him, and they would flee to the nearest TV station and show them the footage. The two of them would soon be famous. He didn’t mind sharing the fame with her, even though she hadn’t really done anything. He figured he was being gentlemanly.
He walked to the section where she’d been working the day before and keyed open the door. He paused inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim blue light. Then he made his way down the corridor. There would be no way of knowing which room Janice was in, so he would simply check each one of them.
He opened the first door, and heard, once more, the growling from within.
“Janice,” he called, but received only animal noises as an answer.
He thought about going in. He still had his phone on him, and he could record more footage, but he didn’t think he needed more. Once he showed the cops what he had, they would raid the place, just like they’d raided his house, and figure things out on their own. There was no need for him to go out on a limb.
He was just about to leave when he thought he heard someone whispering, maybe calling for help. It was a soft rasp of leaves pushed by the wind. Chip turned around and turned on the flashlight app on his phone. Most of the cages were empty, but there was a lone figure crouched in one cage in the corner. It had its back turned to him, but he could see that it was a person wearing some kind of rags. Chip took a step forward.
The creature turned. Her hair was ragged, her eyes sunken, but it was Janice. Janice was in the cage. She stood up slowly, gripping the bars.
“Please,” she rasped. “You have to help me.”
He stared at her. “Who did this to you? Was it those creatures?”
She shook her head. “They found out that my key card let you in. They want to punish me. They thought I broke the rules.”
Chip walked over to the cage. Her unwashed body smelled, and in the corner of a cage was a bucket that seemed to be full of piss. Maybe even worse.
“Please help me,” she said.
Chip came forward, his stolen key card at the ready. He had it up and ready to swipe before he saw her shaking her head. There was a keyhole, like this was a prison cell from a hundred years ago.
“Who has the key?” Chip asked.
“Kohl,” she said. “You have to get it from him.”
Chip stared at her. In his pocket he had a phone that would expose this place, and no one knew. No one had any idea what he was up to. If he started running around, trying to get keys from Kohl, he’d just end up in a cage too.
“I’m going to go for help,” he told Janice. “You have to be patient.”
“They’re going to do something to me,” she said, not troubling to control her tears. “This afternoon. Chad, they’re going to turn me into one of those creatures.”
He stared at her, unable to believe what he’d heard. He’d been nice to her, he’d cared about her. He’d even considered risking his life to rescue her, and she didn’t even know his name.
“I’m Chip,” he said.
“Who gives a fuck what your name is?” she demanded. “You need to get me out of here!”
Not with that attitude, he thought. “I’ll have them come back for you,” he told her. “As soon as I get out, I’ll tell them you’re here.”
“I’ll be dead by then,” she said. “Or worse. Please. I’m begging you.”
Chip felt very uncomfortable with the situation she was putting him in. Frankly, it was unfair. Once again, someone was trying to force his hand, to make him do what he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t like that. The whole begging business was really just another form of manipulation. She thought he couldn’t see that, but he was smarter than most people realized.
“You haven’t been very nice to me,” Chip said.
Janice stared at him. “What does it matter? I didn’t want to fuck you, so now you’re going to leave me to die?”
Chip would not have put it so bluntly himself, but he was enough of a realist to see that it did come down to that. It was all about evolution, protecting his genetic material. There was no percentage, scientifically speaking, in risking his life for someone who was never going to put out. Besides, the way he saw it, he didn’t have a choice. Trying to get the key from Kohl was just too much of a risk.
Janice was now shaking the bars of the cage, letting out a low, animalistic moan, like she was mourning for herself. It was making Chip very uncomfortable.
“I’ll get the key,” he told her. “I’ll get you out, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.�
�
She slumped down to the bottom of the cage, sobbing quietly now. She tried to thank him, but the words came out as gasps.
Chip ran for the door. He had no intention of doing anything but escaping, but he figured it was kind to let her think otherwise. Either the people he sent here would get her out in time, and she’d have nothing to complain about, or they wouldn’t, and no one would ever know that he’d left her behind.
Chip hurried through the halls of the lab, passing scientists who didn’t spare him a glance. They thought they were so smart, but he had fooled them all. He was about to get out of here, hit the street, and turn his life around, and they were just going about their business, making monkey people, completely unaware that the smartest guy in the building was someone they couldn’t be bothered to greet when they passed.
Chip made his way to the exit and swiped his card. There was a moment of panic when he wondered if maybe they didn’t care because they were one step ahead of him. His card would fail to work, and he’d be trapped. They were unhurried because they had no reason to hurry.
But, no. The card slid through and beeped. The light turned green and the door hissed open. Chip couldn’t contain his grin as he entered the kitchen, only feet away from the front door and freedom.
The only problem was the Komodo dragons, which stood before him, baring their sharp teeth, hissing like snakes. They were there to hold him in place, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with. Chip reached into his pocket and drew out his pistol.
He knew he was going to be called the bad guy again. They’d say he was cruel to animals or something like that, but he didn’t care. It was life or death.
Chip squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. He quickly checked the magazine and saw the gun was unloaded. Somehow they knew. They’d known he had the gun all along, so why hadn’t they called him out on it. Why had they left it with him?
Limbus, Inc., Book III Page 14
