by Pies, Grant
Ellis barely thought about killing the man back in the rest area. He expected nightmares, that his hands would shake, and that he would wake up in a cold sweat. He expected some emotion. But Ellis felt nothing. It wasn’t as if he suppressed the memory, he thought about it quite a bit. But he remembered it the way someone remembers going to the doctor or driving to the bank; like it was an errand, something he had to do.
Ellis sat at the bar and slowly sipped on his beer. He averaged three beers each day he waited at the bar. He didn’t want to drink all day, but he felt like he had to order something. While he waited, he watched the bar tender go about his routine. In the morning he turned on all of the lights and the single television that hung behind the bar in a metal cage, flipping it to a 24-hour news station that reported more android on human crime, and more raids by Technology Development Agents. The bartender grabbed glasses from the sink that soaked in a mixture of bleach and water the night before, and wiped them down. He counted the cash in his cash drawer. Each day he started with one thousand dollars. Lights. TV. Glasses. Cash. After that he sat back in a chair behind the bar and watched TV.
Every once in a while the man swatted flies away from his face or stood up to wipe the bar down with his moldy rag. But for the most part he was immobile, and Ellis didn’t move much either. He watched TV with the bartender, and they never said a word to each other, like the other person wasn’t even there. The only move Ellis made was to turn his head from the TV to the door if he heard the front door open. Over the course of three days a slow but steady group of patrons entered the bar, but none of them was Beckett.
On the fourth day after the rest stop incident, Ellis was called back to the Ministry for another survey trip. He knew that if he did not return for his survey trip they would put the pieces together and realize that the team they sent after Beckett and Ellis were dead, or at least missing, and they would come after both of them. Ellis had no choice but to go back to the Ministry until he heard from Beckett or Emery. He shut off the lights and locked his apartment door. At the time, he didn’t realize he would never sleep in his apartment again.
CHAPTER 60
2068
DENVER, CO
Ellis made his way down the long corridors hundreds of feet underground. His footsteps echoed and bounced off of the cement walls and ceiling. A scientist walked only a few paces ahead of him and led him to his small cell with three cement walls and one glass wall. He entered the cell and sat on his bed. Once inside, the scientist stepped out and locked the door behind him, walking away and quickly disappearing down the hallway. On the wall opposite his cell, nature scenes were broadcasted on the wall.
Ellis stared at these images with a new outlook. He stared at them and anger grew inside of him. He knew he would never really see the Aogashima Volcano in Japan, and feel the hot steam brush against his face. His exclamations of amazement would never echo off the walls in the Glow Worm Cave in New Zealand. The pink algae filled waters of Hiller Lake in Western Australia would never run down Ellis’ bare skin. His eyes would never truly rest on the jagged edges of the Split Pinnacle in Hunan China. Instead Ellis had to settle for a pixilated replication of these places. Every thirty minutes a new image of a place he would never see taunted him.
Now each picture punched him in the stomach and reminded him of the life he didn’t lead. The smoothed rock formations of the Cathedral de Marmol in Patagonia struck Ellis’ soul like an axe breaking through a frozen lake. Instead of these places around the globe, Ellis only saw the same place. Denver. Over and over again. He saw the city of Denver grow and expand to the point that it merged with other cities. He returned to Denver every one hundred years only to witness more congestion, smog, towering buildings, and murderous cannibals that trekked through the desert.
The choice to work with the Ministry and participate in Project Oracle was not a choice at all. A choice presumes that there is more than one option. Until now, Ellis travelled through life making choices that weren’t even real. His life was a journey down a road that never forked; it only twisted and curved, but never split. For the first time he was faced with a real choice; to direct or be directed. To continue jumping through time in Denver for millennia or venture into the unknown with those in Ashton. He lay back on his bed in his cell and staring at the ceiling. Waiting to be summoned to the future.
CHAPTER 61
5065
NEW ALCATRAZ
DAY 9
I pushed and pulled Hamilton along the line of cabinets in the large break room kitchen. Rounds from the other prisoners’ rifles bounced off of the cement floor. Boiling hot pieces of lead burrowed their way through the cabinets, and smashed and dented the metal appliances. On the run, we stayed low and ducked around a wall.
The men cackled over the sound of the bullets, echoing like heavy raindrops pounding on metal sheeting, but magnified over and over. Where Ellis and Red’s flashlights flickered and bounced around moments before, were now gone.
I hoped they saw the men before the firing began, and that they hadn’t been hit by the multitude of bullets ricocheting against the walls, floor, and ceiling. I hoped, for my own sake, that Red and my father were still alive. I hadn’t vanished from thin air…yet.
The firing diminished as each person ran out of bullets, emptying the magazines. Bags of chalk food crumbled on the ground and mixed with the water spilled out of the shattered glass bottles; a thin multi-colored soup ran down the splintered cabinets. The noise of clicking metal resonated around the wall that Hamilton and I leaned against; our chests heaved heavy with breath as we listened to the men reloading.
“If we wanted to kill you outright, we would have!” one of the men yelled. “But we don’t want to kill you. At least not yet.” The man’s voice was raspy from months of living in the desert and breathing in sand and dry air. He spoke like every word he said was a joke. But he was the only one who found it funny. Like there was a laughter buried under each of his words. “Just come out from behind that wall and talk.”
I looked at Hamilton, who somehow grew even paler than he was before and shook his head in answer to a question I never even verbalized. In opposition, I nodded mine and a non-verbal debate of nodding ensued between us. For me there was no choice but to obey. If not, they could take four steps around the wall and shoot us both dead.
“Okay,” I said with my eyes locked onto Hamilton’s. I shuffled around the wall, almost wading through the food and water that had spilled and spread everywhere. The men were all thin beneath their orange jumpsuits. One man had a string of knives strapped to his body, and another man had a belt with grenades hooked around his waist. All three of them had long rifles slung around their shoulders and smaller pistols holstered to their thighs.
“Are you the guy?” the man with the raspy voice asked. His dark hair was long but pushed back, his beard patchy and a scar ran down his throat. He gripped his rifle with his dirt stained hands. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.
“Are you the guy that killed Baxter?” I shrugged again. Denying without lying. Playing dumb. I wondered if Baxter was the man in the woods torturing Red’s friend, Beckett, or if he was the man on the beach, whose throat I cut open with the sharp rock.
“So this was the plan, huh? Find this place.” The man let go of his rifle and spread his hand and arms out wide. “I gotta give it to the Ministry of Science. They build things to last.” I nodded my head in agreement. “Gaines,” the man said. “My name is Gaines. This here is Nolan,” Gaines said as he pointed to the man with knives strapped around his body. “And this is Deslin,” he said and pointed at the man with the grenades.
“Powell,” I responded. My mouth was dry and my lips stuck together. I stood frozen, waiting to be shot dead at any moment.
“Ok, Powell.” He said my name sarcastically. “Your friend behind the wall, what’s his name?”
“Hamilton,” I said and knew Hamilton cringed behind the wall at the mention of his name.
> “Hamilton!” Gaines shouted to the other side of the wall. “You might as well come out. You don’t want us to come getchya.” Gaines chuckled silently and looked back at the other two men who laughed at Gaines’ prompting.
Light footsteps sounded from behind the wall as Hamilton sheepishly walked out from his hiding place. His body slouched and pulled toward the earth more than usual. Gaines walked forward but passed us to pick up one of the bottles of water that didn’t shatter from their gunshots. He smiled, revealing his yellow, almost tan, teeth, and stared at the clear liquid. He poured the entire bottle down his throat then smashed it on the floor. The sound of broken glass echoed forever throughout the facility.
Hamilton flinched at the sudden movement as the two other men came over and rummaged to find more intact bottles. Gaines drank three bottles before he scooped up handfuls of the chalk cubes that were scattered on the counter, unconcerned about what flavors he popped in his mouth, or potentially scooping up shards of glass along with the freeze dried food. He barely chewed before swallowing the food.
“How about you, Hamilton? Did you kill Baxter?” Gaines asked him with a mouthful of flavored chalk, water, and possibly bits of glass.
“No!” Hamilton blurted out.
“That’s a bit more definitive than Powell’s answer.” Gaines smirked and looked at me, placing his hand back on his rifle. I stepped back and thought of running.
“Powell! You won’t get but three steps. Don’t bother. We can work together.” Gaines said in his own joking tone. Even his friends behind him laughed at his ‘request’ to join forces.
“It looks like you found the power to this place.” He said as he looked up toward the ceiling and motioned at the red bulbs spaced throughout the facility. “And obviously we found the armory,” he said and held up his rifle. “Brains and brawn,” Gaines said and bared his grimy teeth.
Gaines grabbed another glass bottle. This one was cracked and leaking, but it was mostly intact. He tilted the bottle to his lips, but only a portion of the contents made it to his mouth. Most of it spilled and ran out of the holes in the bottle, soaking his beard and running down his chest. He poured the remainder of the water over his head.
“This is the spot, huh?” Gaines asked both of us. “This is where they sent each of us into the future, isn’t it?” I nodded and Hamilton made a sound in agreement. “Well, now that you got the power working, and you’ve got yourself a handful of armed body guards, why don’t we make our way along this yellow line to the deployment center.” Gaines tilted his rifle so the barrel pointed at my chest, and he nodded back towards the main hallway.
I walked forward, and Hamilton followed. Gaines and the other men grabbed handfuls of the Mylar bags of dehydrated food, and threw them into the backpacks they found in the armory. They each carried a bottle of water. Our feet crunched down on the shattered glass on the floor as one of the other men came behind me, pressing the barrel of his gun into my back. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Beyond the armed man I made out a shape in the power room. A head peeked around a corner. Red’s face was illuminated in the red lights, and he pressed his finger over his lip before ducking back behind the wall. Suddenly the red overhead lights turned off and the entire facility was plunged into darkness.
CHAPTER 62
5065
NEW ALCATRAZ
DAY 9
Before the man behind me, Nolan, squeezed the trigger on his rifle, in one fluid movement I stepped aside, turned around, and grabbed the barrel of his gun. A fraction of a second later, Nolan fired his rifle, my hand still gripping the barrel. As a stream of bullets exited the gun, the barrel immediately became scalding hot, melting my skin. Flashes of light exploded near my hand with each round, and the gun spat out the scalding empty cartridges that fell against my bare skin. I fought every instinct to let go of the barrel.
The bullets bounced off the hard surfaces of the underground vault. I yanked the barrel of the gun upright and pushed Nolan to the ground. I fell on top of him with my full body weight, chest to chest, and we both gasped as the air pushed out of our lungs. The gun slid across the floor, ripping a layer of my hand away with it. The strong stench of gunpowder and burnt flesh floated around us as I scrambled and felt for Nolan’s face and throat.
He wrapped his hands around my arms, frantically punching and kicking with little care of where his limbs landed. He thrusted his torso in an attempt to throw me off of him. I smashed my open palm down on his face, and Nolan turned and bit down on my hand. His teeth sunk into the flesh around my thumb, crunching down on nerves and forcing my hand open. Blood ran out of the fresh wound, and poured into his mouth. I let out a high pitched scream, raised my forearm over Nolan’s head, and drove it into his face, landing on what felt like his nose, cheek, and forehead. I repeated this motion over and over, connecting with whatever part of his face I could until he opened his mouth and let go of my hand.
Just as his jaw unhinged and released my hand, another person grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. This other person fell forward, pushing me back down on top of Nolan, and falling on top of me. The rifle strung around his body pushed and jabbed into my skin. The back of my head crashed into Nolan’s face, slamming the back of his head against the cold cement floor. His long thick hair muffled the thud of his head, and I felt his body go limp underneath me.
In the distance, another single gunshot rang out, and a smattering of fists connecting with skin echoed through the dark vault. Grunts and loud sudden exhales rang throughout the old cubicles as our two groups fought in the darkness. I reached out and fumbled around as the person on top of me wrapped his arms around my throat and shook my head, pressing his thumbs directly on my windpipe. Frantically, my hands slid down his torso and continued past his waist as I struggled for air through my shrinking esophagus.
My hand made contact with the cool metal of the pistol strapped around my assailant’s thigh. He let go of my throat and reached for the gun, but I managed to unsheathe the weapon before the man could stop me. I gulped air back into my lungs, and pushed the barrel of the pistol against the man’s side. He threw himself off of me at the same moment that I squeezed the trigger. The recoil on the gun pushed my hand backwards into the floor, and the man groaned and collapsed beside me.
“Powell!” Ellis screamed. My ears rang and hummed. “Powell! Where are you?” His voice panicked and urgent. His question demanded an answer but feared one at the same time.
“Over here.” I managed to squeeze the words through my battered throat.
“Let’s go!” Ellis shouted. His voice seemed far away. I heard him shake his manual flashlight for a second and click it on. The light was a beacon several steps away. He stood near the main hallway. Red was next to him standing over the man they called Deslin. Ellis flashed the light in my direction, illuminating Gaines’ pistol in my hand, smoke wafted from the barrel. Gaines lay on the floor writhing in pain. His blood covered hands pressing against his side.
“You piece of shit!” Gaines mumbled. The words were weak and strained.
“Let’s go Powell!” Ellis yelled a second time. His flashlight faded, and in the darkness I debated finishing what I started with Gaines. I thought whether killing him would be inhumane or compassionate. Without truly making a decision, I turned and ran toward where I last saw my father’s light. I held onto the pistol, only one round lighter than it was moments before. Red lit his flashlight to reveal Deslin’s body slumped on the ground next to him. I couldn’t tell if Deslin was alive or dead, and I didn’t care; I’d no idea about Nolan either. Hamilton crouched against a wall near the main hall. The four of us made our way through the darkness and out to the endless hallway. Ellis grabbed me and patted my body down.
“Are you hit?” he asked. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”
“Just my thumb,” I said and held my hand up in the dark. I felt the blood running down my hand and forearm. I could not make a fist with that hand. It was the same hand that was cut
by the sharp rock days before and the same hand that was burnt by the scalding rifle barrel.
“What about the power?” I asked Ellis. “We need to go back!”
“A timer,” Red said. He tried to whisper but it only bounced off every hard surface in the facility. “It’s on a timer. It will kick back on any second now. We need to get out of here before that happens.” As he said that, a loud whirring noise emanated out from the darkness, from where Red and Ellis had turned the power on. The bulbs on the ceiling blinked to life again, casting a strobe of red light over all of us.
“Okay. We need to get to the medical department,” Ellis told me and the others.
“No!” I said. “It’s fine. Let’s just get to the deployment center.” The red lights stayed on longer and longer, and the moments of darkness grew shorter. Under the flashing lights, I looked at each person from our group. Ellis, seemingly untouched, stood wide eyed, and he watched me as I glanced at the others. Blood dripped down Red’s forehead and into his face, and he held one hand on his ribs, wincing each time he breathed in.
Hamilton leaned at the waist and his chest shook in and out as he frantically fought for air. His left hand held onto his thigh and blood steadily flowed out between his fingers down his leg, soaking his jumpsuit with his own thick gummy blood. He looked up and tears of pain filled his eyes; his skin was white with shock.
“We aren’t going to medical for your hand. We need to stop Hamilton’s bleeding.” Ellis started walking down the hall, following the blue line that led to the medical department. Red followed him with his hand still holding his side. I scooped my body under Hamilton’s arm and helped him stand up slightly straighter. He cried out in pain with each step. “Plus,” Ellis continued. “We need to get to medical or none of us will survive the trip out of here.”
