by R. Brewer
Slowly, she brought the gun up and pointed in the direction of the noise, her hands shaking. The thing snorted loudly just as she held the gun in front of her and she jumped, almost pulling the trigger. Finally understanding what she was seeing, Jodie finally exhaled. "A deer," she whispered. "It was only a deer."
Jodie could finally make out the silhouette of the doe as it made its way through the edge of the forest and trotted across the open lawn in front of her. "Time for me to move, too," she whispered to herself. If anyone was out there and had heard the deer, maybe the sound of her footsteps wouldn't betray her position. Jodie picked up the Jerry cans and crept along the tree line, careful to stay hidden for as long as she could. She stopped after ten steps and listened, hearing the deer trot away at a quicker pace.
Jodie sprinted across the lawn toward what looked like a detached garage. She reached the garage and crouched to the ground, then waited until the sound of her beating heart calmed enough to hear the silence again.
Darkness deepened next to the building as Jodie made her way around the side of the garage, feeling along the wall, coming to a door. She tried the handle. Locked. She thought about kicking the door in, but knew that the noise was bound to attract attention if anyone were near, so she moved around to the front of the building. Not wanting to wander around in the dark for too long, she thought she'd take a chance and use her flashlight briefly. Cupping her hand around the light, she held it up to the garage door window and flicked it on, seeing a Jeep inside. “I hope you've got some gas in you," she said.
Jodie tugged on the overhead door handle and pulled it up about a foot. She set the cans on the ground, lay down and inched her body inside. After pulling the cans in behind her, she closed the door and lay still on the floor, listening for anyone following. The garage was small, leaving her little room to maneuver near the front bumper of the Jeep, so, after she felt comfortable that she was alone, Jodie pulled herself along the floor until she had space to stand up.
Turning the flashlight on for a brief moment once more, she could see the gas tank cover at the back of the vehicle. Something else caught her eye, too. Garden hose.
Jodie took down the hose and grabbed a garden shears lying on a shelf and cut off a four-foot section. She reached inside the open window of the Jeep, looking for a release lever for the gas cover, realizing she would have to open the door briefly to reach the latch near the floor.
Saying a silent prayer that no one would see the dome light shining in the car, Jodie quickly opened the door and reached up to switch the light off. While it was still on, she noticed something else. Keys were hanging from the ignition. After briefly considering starting up the vehicle and making a break for it, she dismissed the idea and felt around for the fuel cap release lever. She found it and slid out of the Jeep, ready to siphon. She paused when she heard noises coming from what seemed some distance away. The roaring of motors, grinding of gears, crunching of stone. Vehicles. Many large vehicles, from the sound of it.
Jodie moved to the side door of the garage and peeked out the window at the roadway, seeing headlights illuminating the forest. They were headed into town from the direction she had come. The vehicles would have passed her father, Isaiah, Noah and Hunter, hidden in the woods. Jodie hoped she'd pulled far enough off the road to keep them and their SUV hidden. She watched as the caravan rumbled past, a fuel truck bringing up the tail end. "Sure could use that right now," she said to herself.
As she watched the last of the vehicles pass, she pulled the two-way radio out of her coat pocket. She was sure that her father must be okay. After all, he would've called her if they were in trouble. But, why didn't he warn her of the caravan? Surely, he would have called her to tell her they were coming. Suddenly, something felt terribly wrong. Jodie pressed the call button and spoke quietly. "Isaiah? Isaiah, come in . . . Dad? Dad, are you there?" No answer. Jodie dropped the garden hose and closed the door to the Jeep. She wanted to, but didn't dare take the vehicle now that she knew Gypsum was in the area. She placed the empty gas cans in the back of the garage and slid out the side door, unlocking it as she left.
Jodie sprinted across the lawn, going back the way she'd come, not waiting to see if anyone followed. She ran and stumbled through the dark forest, her face whipped by branches, the brush tearing at her clothing. When she finally reached the clearing where she’d left her father and the others, she was stunned. Other than tire tracks to tell her she was in the right area, no evidence of them remained.
She pressed the radio button again. "Dad? Dad, where are you?” The sound of her voice was dampened by the dense growth in the forest. She pressed the button once more, hearing a static-filled clicking noise coming from the woods. As she followed the noise, she kept pressing the button on and off. Finally, she saw it lying in the leaves at the base of a tree. The other radio, her lifeline to her father, lying in the dirt. "Oh, no," Jodie said as she grabbed the radio and started running.
* * *
Chuck lay on the tile floor, surrounded by stacks of file folders he’d cast aside as he frantically searched for some sign that his condition wasn't terminal. He'd found none. The realization that he might have a defined lifespan of only a few days left him utterly spent. And depressed.
What he'd pieced together from reading the files left him shaken and confused about what to do next. While he held a fierce desire to see Jodie again, he knew it was his responsibility to let the rest of the world know what Gypsum had done. Experiments with human and alien DNA. Failed experiments.
The words repeated over and over in his mind. Alien DNA ... experiments ... hybrids. So that's what all of this was for. The underground installation, the secrecy, the murders. Chuck stared at his metal legs. "Is that what I am now? An alien mutant experiment?"
Chuck had read about people who had apparently been kidnapped and taken into space for tissue and bone collection, left with life-threatening conditions and no hope in sight of a cure for their unknown afflictions. Teeth drilled, bones extracted, copious amounts of blood taken from the same person over weeks at a time, failed impregnations, failed amputations. The list went on and on, each file revealing a kind of horror worse than the one before. Entire families had been killed, maimed, and changed forever, in the name of what? He was most disturbed by the little ones. The fetuses, suspended in frozen stasis. Products of alien DNA infusion. Unnatural creatures.
The file said that Gypsum housed them in the Nevada facility, waiting for reanimation. The thought of what Gypsum was doing and had done to thousands of people, people like him, and maybe even Jodie by now, made him deeply heartsick. Chuck looked at his reflection in the shiny steel cabinet, wondering what he'd been exposed to. What kind of organism could have transformed his body into this, a skinless metal giant, still in the shape of a man? And, why was he still himself? Why hadn't he retreated into madness like all the others he'd seen?
He was repulsed by what he'd become, even though it was strong. Stronger than a human could ever hope to be and faster than he could comprehend. But he wanted to be Chuck again. The Chuck who helped cats out of trees. The Chuck who sat with Debi at the diner and talked about days gone by. The Chuck who gave his life to helping others. If it was the last thing he did, he would find a cure for these people and, just maybe, one for himself, too.
He picked up another file. As he read, Chuck thought of Leah. Kind Leah, who lost her best friend to this madness, who lived her life searching for answers and found none. He remembered the strange afflictions she had. Bone loss in her legs, like so many others he read about. Evidence of prolonged periods of weightlessness was what the files said. Chuck realized Leah had been taken into space and experimented on. And that woman Jodie hit with her car. She had holes drilled in her teeth and was mutilated in a way he'd never seen before.
He remembered Bob, his friend, a man of honor, who'd saved him. His body lay unmoving on a cold floor, alone, not yet mourned by his family. In their names, and in the names of all of the othe
rs like them, Chuck made a vow to expose the truth. He wanted Jodie to help him, but he was starting to realize the likelihood of ever seeing her again was very low, if not non-existent, given that he didn't really even know where he was. Weighing his options, he thought he could retrace his steps and find the tunnel where he'd come in, but that might take too long. Maybe more time than he had left. And, something told him Jodie was in danger. He could feel it as if she were standing right in front of him. His metal frame hummed with a kind of fear for her. He knew he needed to get out of the tunnel now right now and find her.
Chuck tossed the files aside, sat up, and was about to stand when he heard footsteps coming in his direction. Not the footsteps of the things he'd seen earlier, but those of men. It sounded like a group of maybe a dozen or so. He lay back down, so still that he could be mistaken for dead. Sliding his arm over his face to shield his lidless eyes from view, he peeked out through the space between the bones of his forearm.
The door swung open and a combat uniform clad man entered, his weapon raised as he swung it in a wide arc, pointing into the room. Chuck saw that the man was wearing a gas mask. The man made a motion to someone in the hallway and the room was suddenly filled as Gypsum guards entered.
"Looks like this one here's been playing in the file cabinet," a guard said as he kicked Chuck in the leg.
Chuck remained still. He could hear muffled laughter coming through the mask.
"Thinks he's part of the Wild West, too. Lookie here," the guard said, pointing to Chuck's gun holster. The guard bent over and fingered the badge pinned to Chuck's collarbone.
Several other guards joined in the laughter. One pointed his gun at Chuck. "Showdown at the O.K. corral, buddy," he said, his finger moving dangerously close to the trigger.
Chuck tensed, not knowing if a bullet could penetrate his metal frame.
"Hey, Billy. Don't fire that weapon in here. You'll draw the rest of those things right to us," another guard said.
Billy lowered his weapon, bent down and unpinned Chuck's badge. He polished it on his pant leg and pinned it to his combat uniform. "There's a new sheriff in town," he said, pounding his chest. He bent down again, his hand reaching for Chuck's gun.
"Cut that shit out, Billy, and help us with this," another guard said. "Leave the gun. We're here for only one reason. To get the docs their records. We need to pack up all the files in every treatment room. That means two men in each room. Pair up and get everything ready to go. We've got ten minutes."
The guards filed out of the room and headed for their assignment. Billy grunted something unintelligible and Chuck remained still on the floor, rage filling every bit of his consciousness. These people were the real monsters. They'd forgotten he was once a human being, just like them. They didn't know he was a police officer once and that his life was given to protecting humans. Before he was done, before his body gave out like all the others' in the files he'd read, he would teach these Gypsum guards a lesson on how someone with a badge and gun should act.
Having finally stacked up all the files and placed them in boxes, the Gypsum guards loaded everything on a gurney and left the room. Chuck could hear them meeting in the hallway.
"Let's get out of here and blow this pop stand," a gruff voice called out, likely from the guard in charge. "We don't want any of those things following us. Billy and I will set up the device here. The rest of you get to the train and unload these carts."
Chuck could hear them rolling the gurneys down the hallway. He slid sideways as quietly as he could to see what they were doing. The two men just outside the door were stringing wire across the hall, leading to a huge bag of what he assumed were explosives.
"The red wire goes to the receiver," the gruff-sounding man said. "We'll blow it with a radio signal when we're a couple miles out."
The man Chuck knew as Billy watched as the other guard connected wires to a lead coming out of the large bag.
"Should we leave it in the hallway? I mean, what if one of those things comes along and stumbles into it?” Billy said.
The gruff man sighed loudly. "Were you asleep during your basic training? You should know this stuff, Billy, or you're gonna blow yourself up someday. We have to leave it out in the open so the signal can get through. If the lead gets pulled out of the bag by one of those things, it'll trigger right away. Either way, we just need to get the hell outa here before the fireworks start. Let's go."
Chuck watched them as they ran down the hallway. He didn't know where Jodie or his other friends were, so until he had an answer to that question, he wasn't about to let Gypsum blow up anything. "No time to waste," he muttered to himself, sliding to a sitting position and standing up carefully. "Radio waves can't get through metal." Chuck sized up the metal cabinets in the room, picking one he thought would be large enough. He knew the cabinet must have weighed four or five hundred pounds, yet he tore it off the wall, shearing off the bolts holding it in place. He carried it to the hallway, where he ripped its doors off and set it gently over the top of the bomb, covering the radio receiver completely. Then he grabbed his Hello Kitty bag and started running. He needed to catch up with the Gypsum guards. They knew a way out. A way he hoped would lead him to Jodie.
Chapter 8
Jodie ran through the forest toward the garage she was in earlier. She was starting to think this was all too easy. Keys dangling from an ignition where she could find them, the garage door left open. She wondered if Gypsum was waiting for her by the Jeep now that they'd separated her from her companions. Jodie stopped at the edge of the woods. Something didn't feel right. She didn't know what that something was, but she wasn't about to take any chances. She knew she had to abandon the idea of stealing the Jeep.
Realizing she'd have to find another way to get out of town, Jodie went back into the forest and continued running through the trees toward lights in the distance. Finally reaching a narrow section of woods, she paused, waiting long enough to catch her breath and to look for signs of anyone from Gypsum lurking in the shadows. From what she could make out in the lights ahead, this area had been hit hard by the earthquakes set off by the explosion in Gypsum's underground tunnel. She watched from the bluff as police and Red Cross rescue workers down below in the town dug through the debris that used to be houses, likely looking for survivors. A constant stream of heavy equipment rolled down the main street, each machine being directed to a different location to help in the search.
Nearest to her, utility workers were setting up huge overhead lamps. It wouldn't be long before the area she was in would be illuminated, so she had to move now. She had to get to the middle of the town, where she'd be more likely to be lost in the confusion of the rescue effort.
Jodie burst out of the forest. At the same time, she heard a sound, a terrible sound of something tearing through her shoulder. She felt the spray of hot blood on her face and the searing pain of the bullet ripping through her flesh. She stumbled, feeling the bullets hitting the ground all around her.
Jodie dragged herself forward, pulling her body behind a tree. She groaned in pain. "Shit," she said as she kicked at the dirt.
She examined her wound, finding her shoulder had been grazed. While it bled profusely, thankfully, the wound wasn't life threatening. Jodie unzipped her coat and pulled her t-shirt up. She tore a section of the shirt off, wadded it into a ball and stuffed it into her sleeve on top of the wound.
“Keep moving, Jodie,” she told herself. “Keep moving or die.”
A few yards ahead of her, the slope became steep, dropping down about thirty feet. If she could just inch her way over the edge, she’d be in the clear. The bullets continued slamming into the dirt around her, skipping off trees and spraying her with pieces of bark. Jodie decided she had to move now, whatever the cost, even if she was further wounded in the process. Staying put would only let them get closer to her.
She pushed herself up in to a crouching position and shoved off from the tree, launching her body over the edge of the
cliff in front of her. Tripping over the brush, she felt gravity take her into a free-fall for a moment until her shoulder slammed into the ground and she rolled, picking up speed as she careened down the steep embankment.
Bullets whipped past her head as she tumbled aimlessly, head over heels, her face scraping along the soil. Her hair was pulled from her head, snagged on vegetation as she skidded by. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of battering, Jodie came to rest at the base of the slope.
Dazed for a moment, she lay on the ground and looked around, realizing she was in a construction staging area. She spied a stack of pallets and crawled behind them for cover. She didn't feel like she'd broken any bones, but she knew she'd bruised her ribs badly and that her shoulder was still bleeding, as were her head, hands and knees. She realized she probably looked a sight, but maybe she could pass for an earthquake survivor if she somehow managed to drag herself farther into town. The first order of business was to move as far away from the shooter as possible. Then, she could find first aid.
Jodie stood, the pain from her ribs taking her breath away. She had no doubt Gypsum would follow her and had to move now or risk being caught. She watched as a dump truck backed up to unload a pile of debris about a hundred feet away. Once it was empty, the truck turned in her direction and she ran as fast as she could, the pain screaming at her with every step. Sparks flew in front of her as a bullet glanced off the side of the truck. The driver, apparently unaware that someone was shooting in his direction, kept moving. Jodie ran around the back of the truck and kept pace with it as it trundled along. She could see the driver looking at her in his side mirror and did her best to smile. The pain was overwhelming her, though, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to run for very much longer, so ducked down behind a vehicle parked on the road.
Blood saturated her shirt and she winced as she peeled back the fabric of her jeans from a sticky wound on her knee, seeing the exposed bone of her kneecap. Crawling would be out of the question, so she hobbled over to some shrubs along the side of an office building and lay down, hidden. She looked for movement from at the top of the cliff, but only saw headlights swinging in a wide arc. They were on their way down to find her. She needed shelter now, before dawn broke.
