“All I remember is sitting in the bar near campus and waking up in a mosque. I’ve never seen or heard of any bomb. I’m not a damned terrorist!”
Harkenrider reached into his lab coat pocket and removed a large syringe filled with cherry red liquid. The needle looked big enough to poke through a femur.
Bander recoiled from the sight of the syringe and flailed around in his chains. He pleaded, “Oh God! Not that! Not a damned needle!”
“You’re not scared of blowing yourself up but the needle is too much?” Dade started laughing at the prisoner, who started hyperventilating and couldn’t take his eyes off the needle. “Don’t worry,” Dade told him. “This isn’t for you.” He rolled up the sleeve of his lab coat and plunged the needle into the vein on his own arm. Just before he pushed the plunger on the syringe down, he told the prisoner, “You’re gonna feel a lot different when this is over, but it’s not going to be easy.”
Bander just sat there looking extremely confused.
Dade finished injecting the cherry red syrup into his own bloodstream. His face took on a look of calm and he leaned forward in his chair. He looked like a student who was about to fall asleep in class. His head fell on his arm and he stared at the prisoner. His eyelids began to sink under their weight. He mumbled something. Just before Dade drifted away, he whispered to the prisoner, “I’m inside you now.”
The prisoner’s panic and confusion came to a crescendo. Suddenly, Bander found that he had forgotten just about everything from his life. His name became not merely faint or fuzzy, but entirely unknown. It was as though nothing about him had ever existed. He was suddenly robbed completely of memory.
He wondered why his hands and feet were bound but could come up with no reason. The young, white man sleeping across the table offered him no hint. He couldn’t remember his parents, his childhood or his country. His head spun and his heart raced while he could assemble nothing about himself. Bander’s reflection in the mirrored wall was a now a complete stranger.
...
Dade Harkenrider was suddenly transported to the crowded corner of a loud and sweaty college bar. Sitting on a stool in the corner, he looked up and found Bander’s reflection in the mirror instead of his own.
The place was cramped with happy students on what looked like a Friday night. One of Bander’s male friends, a dark-haired kid with glasses, threw an arm around his shoulder and started trying to yell something over the music. It was difficult to hear anything with all the noise but it seemed as though Bander’s friends were leaving for another nightspot.
Just as he stood up from the stool, he heard a strange voice. The sound had the qualities of an old man’s voice but it was too loud and powerful. It cut over the music in the bar. “Leaving so soon, Bander?” Asked the voice.
He turned around and saw the brim of a plaid fedora hat. The old man had just sunk a syringe into the upper part of his thigh. Bander’s leg began to ache and the bar rock and roll became a deafening scream.
“There, there, Bander,” the old man said. “Don’t fight it. Just let the feeling wash over you. I’ve got it from here.”
The old man and the bar got brighter and brighter until the scene seemed to fade to a burning white. Dade, looking through Bander’s eyes, saw a quick flash of a Ferris wheel shutdown for the night. He saw Bander’s unfamiliar feet walking down the weathered boards of what looked like a pier. The place was empty for the night. He felt a pang of recognition like he remembered the place.
Unable to control or address his arms and legs, he plodded toward the end of the pier like a zombie. In his left hand, he felt the handle of a heavy metal briefcase. In the other, he hauled a small steel boat anchor. When he got to the edge of the pier, he dropped the briefcase and anchor into the ocean.
...
Back at the interrogation table, Dade threw open his eyes and gasped for air. “I know where it is!” He shouted out as he woke up. “It’s sunk in the sand at the end of the pier! We can dredge it out!” He started speaking to those outside the interrogation room over the intercom, saying, “I’ve got it. I found it. It’s at the end of the Redondo Beach Pier. I know that spot from my childhood.”
Life started to come back to Bander’s face, which had been totally blank through the examination. “What happened?” he asked Dade. “It’s like time froze.”
“It did. In a manner of speaking.”
“How?” Bander asked. He was overwhelmed by what had just happened. “What did you just do to me?”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Did you see the old man at the bar too? The man in the hat?”
Dade nodded.
“So you believe me?”
Dade nodded again.
“So he is real?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“When are they going to let me go? The old man made me do it. He dosed me with something.” When Dade just looked back at him without answering, Bander started to panic. “They’re going to let me go, right? I’m just a college student for Christ’s sake! I’m a good citizen! Why aren’t they asking me about this old man?”
“Because he’s standing out in the hallway.”
“Who is he? Why did he do this to me?”
“I don’t know yet.”
They both waited in the interrogation room in silence. Outside, the military and federal agents were talking to a dredging team at the Redondo beach pier. Harkenrider rested his head on his hands. He seemed to be fighting off sleep while Bander fought off breathless panic. After thirty minutes or so, the dredge crew located some kind of suitcase bomb tied to an anchor by one of the wooden pylons. Cheers of excitement erupted outside the interrogation room.
Dade staggered to his feet just as the mirrored doors slid open. Out in the hallway, Bernard Mengel was waiting with the soldiers and federal agents. The old smiled like he had just been delivered news of a grandson.
“Let’s have a hand for the hero!” Bernard said as he started clapping. “Let’s hear it for our Dade!”
Harkenrider nearly stumbled on his way out of the room. His voice sounding weak, he said, “I saw you in there, old man. You’re behind this somehow.”
“Oh Dade,” Bernard said, looking exceedingly caring, almost tender at that moment. “How these awful drugs take their toll on you and make you confused. Yet, you’re willing to do all this for your country. You’re a true American hero.”
“Shut up!” shouted Dade. He was starting to look ill. His skin was pale and he looked like he was running a fever. “I’m gonna figure this all out,” he told Bernard. “Whatever your plan is, it isn’t going to work.”
“This young man should get the medal of freedom,” Bernard told the group of agents. “Look at what he’s willing to do to his body and his mind for our great republic.” He told Dade, “Please rest, my boy. Your consciousness needs time to recharge after that. It’s certainly not the time to rehash old arguments.”
The federal agent in charge told Harkenrider, “We don’t know what exactly you’ve done here. But thank you, doctor.”
Just before Dade staggered away, he told everyone in a wavering voice, “Please don’t let Bernard Mengel out of your sight.”
...
A few hours later, Ann Marie found Dade nearly comatose in his lab upstairs. He was laid out on one of the lab tables like a corpse awaiting autopsy. His body looked paler than it did in the tank. As he lay, his bare chest seemed to only barely rise and fall.
When Ann Marie got close to him, she reached out her palm and slid it over his cheek. “Are you alive?” she asked herself, as though he was asleep and wouldn’t answer.
“For now,” he whispered as his eyes opened. “But I really shouldn’t make a habit out of that.”
“What happened in there?” she asked. “Nobody will tell me anything. They just said that you did something very heroic. They said you helped them find some dirty bomb. I heard they’re dismantling it now.”
<
br /> “What happened to Bander?”
“Who?”
“The prisoner, the terrorist.”
“Oh,” answered Ann Marie. “I didn’t know his name was Bander. They still have him in the interrogation room.”
“Is it guarded?” Dade asked like he was very concerned.
“Yeah.”
“Heavily?”
“They looked like big guns to me,” said Ann Marie. She rolled over one of the chairs and sat next to him. “Are you worried he’s going to break out?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“My consciousness was inside a human. It’s extremely unpleasant and tiring. I don’t know how you do it all the time.” He studied her face for a moment, telling her, “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you would be scared.”
“I am,” she told him. “Just not scared enough to stay away, I guess.”
...
That night, around three o’clock in the morning, two stoic military police guards stood in front of the interrogation room where the Camel Spider was being held. The two soldiers seemed to take their guard duty as a divine calling. Each looked ready and willing to break a neck with his bare hands. The two men were on duty until the following morning, when the prisoner was due to be transferred to Guantanamo Bay.
Bernard Mengel seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood in front of them in the hallway. The soldiers stood even more upright. One of them said, “The prisoner is secure, sir.”
“That’s excellent news,” said Bernard. “You two are doing a fine, fine job.”
“What can we help you with, sir?”
“Well, I have a few follow up questions for the prisoner and I’m going to take a few minutes with him.”
“I don’t mean to argue with you, sir. But haven’t they already found the bomb?” The big, grandfatherly smile on Bernard’s face collapsed. It was like a great white shark staring the soldier in the face. Before Bernard said anything, the man tried to make amends, saying, “I apologize, sir. I was only curious.”
“It’s not your place to be curious. It’s your place to stand by the door and hold your gun. How about you let the thinking men deal with matters of national security.”
At that moment, the soldier tossed his head back and stood as straight as he could. “Understood, sir.”
Bernard looked the soldier up and down and took a step toward him. The old man stood only as high as the soldier’s front pocket. “I will not be interrupted, you see,” he said. He looked as though he might pull out a knife at any moment and start slashing throats. “Understand that no matter what you see or hear come out of that room, you won’t question what’s happening in there, you won’t discuss it or even think about it. You will stand here just like the drones you are. Is that understood?”
The soldier was certainly afraid of Bernard and of the consequences of upsetting someone at the old man’s level in the corporation. So he simply nodded in agreement and swiped his badge to allow Bernard through.
Inside the mirrored room, Bernard started circling the prisoner. Bander was still in a deep sleep and had his head down on the interrogation table. The old man circled like a hawk and the prisoner looked like a sleeping mouse.
Bernard stopped behind him and took a syringe out of his side pocket. Tapping on the end of it, he sent a few tiny bubbles to the surface of the clear liquid. Then, without warning, Bernard plunged the needle into the back of the prisoner’s neck.
The strike sent Bander suddenly into full panic. He gasped for breath like a man with his lungs full of water. He screamed until his throat felt like it was closing up. Bernard failed to contain his laughter.
“It will just be a minute,” he told the prisoner. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“You’re him,” the prisoner coughed out.
Bernard laughed, saying, “Oh, yes.”
“You’re the man from the bar, the man I was warned about.”
The old man cocked a smile at him.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“I have no intention of laying a hand on you.”
The injection was starting to take full effect. The prisoner’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then they darted back to face Bernard. “What is happening to me?” Bander pleaded. His eyes flipped back again until only the whites showed. He groaned and started to arch his back to such a degree that it looked as though his spine might snap.
Bernard giggled, leaning back in his chair like he was being entertained by a comedian.
The prisoner’s body became very still and he stared straight forward like he was hypnotized. He started humming something strange like a distorted nursery rhyme. Bernard hummed along and met the strange melody. “Yes, that’s it,” he said, humming along. The prisoner started humming the tune with greater speed and intensity. “That’s the tune,” said Bernard.
The prisoner continued to mindlessly hum to himself. Bernard drew a black smoking pipe with an odd golden embellishment out his pocket. The gold symbol looked like the iris and pupil of a human eye. The old man pulled out a shiny case to match the strange pipe. Out of that, he pulled a pinch of red tobacco, while the prisoner continued to hum the same monotonous tune.
“You’re going to have to help me with this next important part,” he whispered to Bander, who was staring back at the old man like a zombie.
Bernard brought out a small tape recorder. He set it on the interrogation table and started recording. Then, he brought out one last item, something wrapped in an embroidered cloth napkin.
He unwrapped an antique teaspoon. It was cast out of gold and carried the same eye insignia as his pipe. A big smile spread over Bernard’s face, except for his eyes, which never seemed to change their expression. The prisoner picked up the spoon and followed the orders that Bernard gave only with his eyes.
The young man was silent as he used the spoon the way Bernard commanded. While the prisoner performed his task, the old man reached into the pocket of his long black coat. He took out a retractable umbrella that hooked perfectly onto the back of his chair.
The prisoner continued to work with the golden teaspoon. The dull slaps of a slow drip were followed by what sounded like the squashing of a juicy tomato. The prisoner was perfectly silent as he performed exactly as the old man wished. When Bander was finished, he offered something bloody in his right hand across the table to Bernard.
Two dangling, broken-up eyeballs dripped from the prisoner’s hand. The operation to remove them had mashed one of them entirely. Bernard picked this one up with his bare fingers and squeezed until the thing had nearly drained completely on the table. Then, while the prisoner’s empty sockets stared back at him, he carefully folded what was left of the tissues and membranes into his pipe. He covered the bloody bits with the red tobacco.
Bernard lit the pipe with the long blue flame of a gold-plated torch lighter. A dense and nauseating smoke billowed out. He sucked hard on the pipe, bringing the contents to a white-hot fury. That sent the thick, poisonous smoke everywhere. He shut his eyes and reveled in the glorious closed-eye visuals that danced across his perception.
His visions showed him what he already knew. It was a familiar communion. The power of the smoke made it all much clearer though. He had to visit someone. Bernard could see her sleeping. His little brunette was all grown up. It had been so long since his last visit, just over twenty years. He could see the sleeping young woman with the pitch-black hair sleeping in her bed all alone.
Bernard sucked in another deep lungful of smoke and exhaled, “Ivy, I see you.”
The interrogation room was now nearly opaque with smoke that smelled like burning blood. Just before the sprinklers came on, Bernard opened his umbrella. Quite satisfied, he puffed on his pipe like a man at the end of a hard day of work. Then he said to the prisoner, “You may feel again.”
A primal scream vented from the prisoner. Bander hel
d his hands over his empty eye sockets like he was being blinded by something as bright as the sun. Bernard began to laugh. The prisoner writhed and shouted, pulling on his chains like an animal in a bear trap. Bernard chuckled and puffed on his pipe under the umbrella.
The smoke hit the prisoner’s lungs and he coughed like a man choking. Then he vomited all over the mirrored floor.
“It’s an acquired taste,” said Bernard. He leaned back under the umbrella and enjoyed his smoke.
The sprinklers poured over the Bander’s head and bloody water started to fill up the room. The alarms in the laboratory blared and two guards came in. They both vomited and doubled over when they smelled the smoke. When one of the guards stopped throwing up, he asked what had happened.
“I couldn’t stop him,” Bernard said. “The man was mad and gouged his own eyes out. There was nothing I could do. I’m just an old man.” He drew a lung full from the pipe and said to himself, “Savages.”
Chapter 6
The Baby DeathStalkers
Ann Marie showed up to the lab the following morning to find a swarm of military vehicles and government-issued black SUVs. In the security booth, the Sheriff wasn’t there and one of the guards waved her through. When she got inside, she saw dozens of hazardous materials workers in white plastic suits and gas masks. She realized it was a cleanup crew of some sort.
On her way to the elevator to see Dade, she passed the row of interrogation rooms. The entire hallway was lined in clear plastic while the hazardous materials crew disinfected and mopped up all the blood. It stunk like something horrible and unfamiliar. She asked one of the workers what was happening and the man ignored her. Then she showed him her Asylum corporate badge, telling him, “I’m second in command at this facility and I demand to know what’s going on here.”
“Blood,” the man in the plastic suit said, “blood everywhere. Now can I get back to work?”
Ann Marie's Asylum (Master and Apprentice Book 1) Page 9
