The Department for Mutated Persons (Book 1): The Department for Mutated Persons

by Fike, Robert R.

  “But I get it now. Those people were going to get their trees - a better life - because those two friends didn’t let the world get to them. They were going to make it something better than when they found it. And we could do that. But not if we just sit here and do our time. If we let them beat us down…”

  Marshall was silent. It felt like hours to Alan. Marshall finally pointed to his bathroom.

  “My bathroom has a window unit. You can push it out and escape. I’ll make sure they never know you were here.”

  ✽✽✽

  “Okay, we’re going to cut to the chase,” Linus whispered to his other operator, then he shouted at the crowd, “Where is Marshall Roberts?”

  A chair flew out from the balcony level of the apartment complex, smacked Linus in the face and then bounced across the courtyard into a concrete beam holding the balcony up, cracking it in the process.

  The telekinetic operator lifted his hand up, just as Marshall leaped from the balcony toward him. Marshall slowed in the air, until, finally, he was floating overhead.

  “Insubordination and terrorist activities. Automatic three strikes,” the telekinetic operator said with a smile, as he subtly spun Marshall in the air. The teleportation operator opened the portal for exfiltration and stared back at the floating Marshall.

  “Where is Alan Mitchell?” the telekinetic operator asked with curiosity in his voice. “Surely, he must be here.”

  “M-maybe you scared him off,” Marshall grunted, his muscles spasming out of control. “You did put on … quite a … show.”

  Linus pulled himself up and whipped the dust and concrete pieces from his clothing. He fixed his broken arm with a warming hand, and pointed at his eyes, then at Marshall in an act of intimidation.

  “Look… the kid’s… gone. Okay? He knew you were coming. You were pretty… obvious,” Marshall managed to get out. “I gave him the out… and… he t-took it.”

  The telekinetic operator’s curiosity was gone. “We’ll deal with him later. Your amnesty is up, Roberts. You’re coming with us.”

  He pulled Marshall down to the ground, and the operators walked through the portal, leaving the rest of the 308 with their new supervisor, Mr. Torrence, and the teleportation operator.

  Marshall felt himself pulled apart and pushed back together again as he was teleported into the circular entrance room of the Department. The telekinetic operator came through with his partner and saw that something was amiss.

  “What the hell?” the telekinetic operator sighed under his breath, his eyes meeting Alan Mitchell’s.

  “Hello,” Alan said with a smirk, and he clapped his hands together, knocking the two operator’s heads together with his telekinesis.

  “Get up, Marshall. We’ve got work to do.”

  fourteen

  Alan bent over the two operators’ unconscious bodies, pulling their walkie talkies off their utility belts and unhooked them from their ear pieces. He tossed one to Marshall, who caught it.

  “I almost thought you weren’t going to come,” Marshall admitted.

  Alan chuckled, unbuttoning Linus’s shirt, and tossing it to Marshall.

  “I hope this fits,” Alan joked.

  “It’s… snug,” Marshall groaned, as the buttons felt like they might pop off. The pants were the same story; the same length, but the width was a little constrictive. Marshall looked down at the walkie talkie in his hand.

  “What channel are we on?”

  “Eleven,” Alan replied, finishing up with his clothes. “I think their security is always on seven.”

  “You know, you didn’t mention you could move things with your mind. I thought you were a magnet?”

  Alan looked up, “I didn’t know I could either. That was part of my sentence. They thought I was lying.”

  Marshall shrugged, “What’s next?”

  “I noticed teleportation messes with the magnetic fields. That’s why they never put cameras in here. Would’ve just shorted them out every time. But the rest of the place has eyes and ears. We’ll sneak around better in these uniforms. You’re going to A block to break Castor and Nick out. It’ll be a left fork in the road once we get out of here. I’ll go to B block to find Athena. We’ll try to meet up at the exit and get a teleporter to get us out of here.”

  “Okay,” Marshall nodded.

  “Give me a hand here,” Alan said, and they pulled the two operators to the side of the central room, away from the doorway. Marshall clapped his hands together, as if dust had collected from the work. Alan chuckled a little and pointed at the almost seamless wall off to their right.

  “The door’s right there. Are you ready?”

  Marshall nodded, adjusting his new, tight uniform.

  “I feel dirty in this thing, but, yeah, I’m ready.”

  Alan walked up to the wall and the doorway split open with a soft whooshing noise. The metallic hallway seemed so much longer now that Alan wasn’t being dragged through it by the guards. Alan swallowed the lump in his throat and led Marshall on their first steps down the hall. Alan could hear every boot step clang on the metal-grated floors, the sound rattling hollow in his ears. Alan cleared his throat as they reached the A block fork.

  “Well, this is you,” Alan said. Marshall nodded.

  “Good luck, kid.”

  Alan watched Marshall turn the corner and begin the long walk down the A block corridor. Alan was finally aware he might be looking at his friend for the last time, a sinking weight in his gut. He shook off the feeling, exhaled a deep breath, and continued his long trek to the B block.

  The hallway felt a lot longer without Marshall standing next to Alan. The hallway was lonely, and Alan was left with his thoughts. Athena. Castor. Nick. They were all casualties of a war that Alan couldn’t quite understand yet. Alan didn’t really know how things had gotten so bad for people like him. The events of the past few years had been a blur, with announcements from the federal news flashing warning signs here and there. But really, Alan had been absent-minded and content in his relationship with Molly. Like a satellite, Alan had orbited Molly. Now, he was in retrograde, burning up in the atmosphere. And it felt exhilarating.

  During his time in B block, Alan knew that most of the guards took the maintenance hall, which ran a full circle around the central hub where the Department met. It was a way for guards and other workers to get around without having to interrupt meetings or get locked out of their blocks during Department meetings. Alan was going to use it to find a shortcut from the hub to B block, and, hopefully, find Athena.

  Alan swiped his badge across the maintenance hatch, and the doorway slid open. The hall was an endless curve. It was a little disorienting at first, but Alan found his footing staring at the floor. It didn’t take long to reach the hatch leading into the B block hallway.

  Alan’s boots, which were a tad loose for his taste, clanged onto the B block metal floor and echoed down the hall. The cells were filled with different people. But no Athena. Alan walked back down the hall and found one of the first inmates.

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “The traitor?” the man asked smugly, with a deep chuckle in his throat.

  “Yeah. The traitor,” Alan said, his voice clearly annoyed.

  “Man, I don’t know where she went, but I know where she ain’t,” the inmate waved his hands around. He stood up from his cot and looked Alan in the eye. “Wait, a minute.”

  “Tell me where she went, and I’ll bust you out of here,” Alan said, his voice stern with purpose. The lights strobed and finally died, bathing the hall in a red hue. It reminded Alan of Athena and his previous escape. Marshall must’ve started commotion in A block.

  The inmate gave a skeptical glance at the lighting, then at Alan. He cleared his throat and pressed his face to the thick, bulletproof glass. The inmate shook his head, finally making his decision.

  “They took her to C block, man. I don’t think you got a chance; but if you make it, I’ll be right here.”
<
br />   Alan nodded, and ran off to find Athena in C block.

  ✽✽✽

  Marshall sent an A block guard into the metal wall across from the cells, knocking him out cold. Marshall grimaced as the guard thudded the metal surface and smacked the ground with a loud clang.

  Another guard pulled his assault rifle and watched the bullets rip through Marshall’s uniform, then they glanced off Marshall’s impervious skin. Marshall’s strength ran all the way down to the marrow, a miraculous feat shared by most strength-based mutations. Marshall grabbed the rifle out of the guard’s hands and smashed the metal down like it was wet clay, letting the pieces rattle as they fell on the metal floor.

  Marshall grabbed the guard and gently knocked him on the helmet, causing the guard to pass out instantly. It took a lot of practice to be careful with his abilities, but now it was second nature. The guard fell over, revealing Castor in Marshall’s line of sight.

  “Marshall? Damn, it’s good to see you,” Castor shouted from his cell. “I told Nick you guys would come back for us.”

  “Where is Nick?” Marshall looked around.

  “They re-assigned him to a foundry, smelting or some nonsense. Sounded like bullshit to me. Where’s the kid?”

  “He’s looking for Athena,” Marshall said.

  “Athena’s here too? What a reunion we got going. The control panel’s over there, boss.”

  Marshall walked over to the guard post, which had a large electrical panel, a metal desk with a computer and a stack of paperwork sitting on it.

  “Just flip the switch, and I can get us out of here,” Castor assured Marshall. Marshall nodded, and grabbed the switch on the electrical panel, just as another guard came in.

  Unfortunately, the guard was strong like Marshall. He grabbed Marshall by the arm and flung him into the A block doorway. Marshall’s body ached as he peeled himself off the metal wall, leaving a Marshall-sized dent in it. But as soon as he pulled himself off, the guard shoved Marshall right back into the wall.

  “Stand down!” the guard shouted as he slammed Marshall’s head into the wall again. And again. Marshall could feel his head was starting to get warm, blood definitely trickling down the side of his face. “Stand down - gah!”

  Castor’s red-hot hand grabbed the guard’s right shoulder and pulled him off Marshall, who then slid onto the floor. The guard turned into the momentum and shoved Castor to the ground.

  “Get back in your cell, now!”

  “Screw you,” Castor groaned, as he tried picking himself up. The guard shoved Castor again, this time sending him into the back wall near the guard post. Castor winced as his left arm - still aflame - melted through the wall near the electrical panel. Castor tried to bring his arm back out of the wall, but could feel it catch on the metal, so he gave up.

  “That’s what I thought,” the guard taunted, as he stood over Castor’s body.

  “Yeah, yeah. Big tough guy,” Castor joked.

  “Ahem,” Marshall cleared his throat, and the guard turned around to a haymaker to the face. Total Knock Out. Marshall picked the guard up and - using his eye beams - welded the guard’s outline to the wall.

  “I’d clap, but - ya know,” Castor nodded to his arm tangled in the metal, “You seem to have found your calling, boss.”

  “Shut up,” Marshall joked, and ripped the metal away around Castor’s arm. “That better, you big baby?”

  Castor rolled his eyes and pulled his bleeding arm out of the giant hole in the wall. Castor looked at the electrical panel then the hole.

  “I have an idea.”

  “I’m listening,” Marshall replied.

  Castor’s hands glowed white-hot. He followed the electrical panel wiring back into the hole. Castor concentrated, the heat traveling down the wires through the wall, and out of the room. Marshall could see the line of heat glowing as it traveled around the room where the electrical wire was placed.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Sending a shock to the electrical grid,” Castor replied through clenched teeth. He pushed even further, and the wire started melting around his hand. The metal wall started to warp, bowing under the extreme heat. Lights began to strobe, then died, bathing the pair in a red light. “That should buy us a little more time.”

  ✽✽✽

  Guards in tactical gear passed Alan as they ran toward the source of all the commotion. The light was still dimly red, and Alan used the panic to sneak his way into C block’s usually secure gateway. Alan could tell its construction was a large circular room like the hub, but it was made up of small labs stitched together with a honeycomb of hallways. And like the hub, C block had a circular hall running along the outside of the block.

  Unlike the rest of the wings, C block was bathed in sickly fluorescent light; still powered by a separate backup generator.

  Alan looked back through the doorway and saw that B block was still blood-red. He wondered if C block ran on its own power source for a reason. Alan shrugged, and made his way down the central hall that bisected the circular complex. He stood at the intersection and saw that the detention area was down to the right. But Alan’s gut told him the large ‘Special Projects’ sign on his left would be where Athena was being held for the neural data mine.

  fifteen

  Alan stood quietly in the lab room; his eyes set ahead at the woman unconscious on the table. She looked ironically peaceful given the surroundings. The heart monitor beeped steadily in the corner, while an IV pumped fluids and sedative through the woman’s veins. They were running out of time; the guards wouldn’t be distracted forever.

  Alan gently pulled the IV from the woman’s arm and waited for her to wake up. He could hear men running down the halls and shouting to one another. Then there were men at the door, slamming viciously at the metal work. Alan had destroyed the lock mechanism, so it would take at least two more minutes before they could get the door down. Or not.

  The door exploded open, debris flying inside the white room, rattling off walls and shredding the medical equipment like it was tissue paper. Alan protected the woman, curving the explosion of metal all around them and onto the back wall.

  “Hands on your head!” the voices shouted in near unison. Alan turned his head to the side to see flashlights and assault rifles fixed to them, shining back at him. He could probably stop most of their bullets. Most, not all; and he wasn’t feeling especially bleedy at the moment. He put his hands over his head, and the men ran forward.

  “On the ground!” the voices shouted in panicked bursts of air. Two men pushed Alan to his knees, while others swarmed the woman lying on the table.

  “Get the IV back in! Put it back!” one yelled to another, but it was too late.

  The black-haired woman’s eyes opened, and she screamed bloody murder. Alan looked up at the ceiling and watched as it began pressing down towards them. The back wall folded in on itself, revealing a dark abyss. The floor beneath the soldiers began to shift like a moving escalator, causing the men to fall over. Alan could feel vertigo setting in, his mind overtaken with dizzying nausea. The floor slowly tilted upward, causing soldiers to roll towards the side walls. Alan reached out to keep himself centered on the floor. He watched as one soldier slipped into the side wall, screaming as he fell, stuck inside of it like a two-dimensional piece of paper.

  Another soldier grabbed the IV stand as it slid, trying to use it to push himself away from the wall that was swallowing his comrades. The IV stand swung wildly, snapping the soldier’s arm at the elbow like a chicken wing. Alan shut his eyes in sheer terror at the sight.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman’s voice cut through the chaos of the situation, as if it was inside Alan’s head rather than an audible sound.

  Alan felt a cold hand wrap around his, so he opened his eyes. The woman was kneeling down beside him, a look of whimsical curiosity set on her brow. Alan looked around. The soldiers were all writhing around on the floor, panicked breaths and grunts swelling in their chests
.

  “What the he-?” Alan’s voice trailed off, his confusion more like bewildered madness than genuine curiosity.

  “They’ll be fine,” the woman assured, and she helped Alan to his feet.

  The room no longer felt like it was spinning; at least, for him the room had returned to normal. The men continued in their frenzied panic, unaware they were living in a prison of their own imaginations.

  “You seem confused.”

  “I thought you were…” Alan breathed fully for the first time since entering the room.

  “You were expecting her,” the woman replied, filling in Alan’s gaps. “I’m sorry I’m not.”