Heaving a sigh, Alric told himself to stop playing scenarios. Thinking Afion was starting a war was far-fetched. Didn’t governments start wars? Afion wasn’t powerful enough.
Still contemplating that last thought after an unsettled night, Alric rose in the morning and readied himself for work. He left fifteen minutes early to stop for gas, making a show of noticing his car was dirty. As directed, he paid for a car wash and entered the stone structure. An attendant was filling up one of the soap tanks, ignoring him completely.
The large foam spinners enclosed his car and separated, and a face appeared at his window. Alric lowered the window just enough to pass out the padded Manila envelope, and as quickly as the face had appeared, it was gone. The envelope was zipped into the waterproof cape the guy wore and the vials were on their way to wherever Eron was relocating this batch to.
In the back of his mind, as Alric exited the car wash and drove toward Xis, he couldn’t help but think he needed to get as many of the vitamin surges created and sent away as soon as possible.
Chapter Six
Eitan strode down the hallway, unhappy that Omar had wanted him here. Out of all the places inside of Xis, the human research and experimentation halls were his least favorite. The oppression was intense. The evil was thick.
There were two corridors, one named The Hellows by the lab techs, a twist on the word ‘hallows’ because the rooms within the hall were referred to as the lowest parts of hell. The second corridor was referred to as The Peep Hall, where subjects were held for observation and research purposes.
In The Hellows, most of the subjects that entered the rooms left them in a body bag, after experiencing any number of forms of torture or experimentation.
He had no idea what Omar wanted his presence for, and was glad when he inquired about where he might find Omar, and was directed toward the Peep Hall.
The halls were both located behind vacuum sealed heavy doors, in the very unlikely case of escape, or in case an experiment went wrong. It was a termination precaution, as well as a safeguard.
At the head of each hall a wide desk sat facing the corridors, with a bank of screens on each giving the viewer a glimpse of each room and the subject within. The tech seated at the one facing The Peep Hall greeted him by standing, looking alarmed at his arrival.
“Omar sent for me,” Eitan explained shortly. Eitan well knew that for many in the past, his sudden arrival had meant Afion was displeased and the one he had been sent for would not see the next sunrise. It was a guilt that he carried with him and a shame he would take before God because he could not seem to shed his own self-reproach for the lives lost at his command.
At times, the tasks that God set before him seemed too hard to bear. He understood that although the country was not at war, the world was. It was only this that allowed him to lay his burden before the cross and continue the mission that God had given to him.
The tech was obviously relieved that he was there for Omar. Eitan couldn’t blame him. His facade as a cold and calculating man gave him no pleasure.
“Cell eight, sir.” The tech sat and shifted his chair to one of the multiple keyboards on the desk, waiting for Eitan to make his way to the door of the hall so he could unlock it.
Each cell was split into two parts; the outer area, a small secure observation room, and the inner, holding the subject.
Room eight was often empty. The lower the number, the quicker you were expected to die. Eight was reserved for subjects expected to remain for longer periods of time.
A thin green line lit up at eye level as the locking mechanisms were released, and Eitan entered the hall. The procedure was repeated for him to enter room eight.
Omar stood at the thick one-way viewing window, turning to regard Eitan with a disturbed expression. Eitan found that odd, and looked into the room.
A very young girl looked back at both of them as though she could see them. Eitan knew that she could not.
“What is it that requires my attention?” he demanded of Omar.
The child was beautiful. Her hair was a thick copper brown, her eyes reflecting the sheen. Their eyes met. Eitan knew that she could see him. A quick glance at the panel to the right of the window showed that was not possible and he met her eyes again, trying to decipher how she was doing it.
He couldn’t look away. Eitan could feel the intensity of her gaze straight to his soul. His spirit trembled, as though something in her ignited the power of God itself inside of him. Silently, he began to speak in tongues, intensely, the words different from those that normally flowed.
His soul told him he was looking at far more than just a child. This was the girl Omar had anticipated getting his hands on. With the bones. He knew as he looked at her that he had to do everything in his power to keep her alive.
Eitan fought the urge to cry. How many times had he begged God to free him from this forsaken place? Even if it meant death. This girl was why God had not. Her life was the reason for it all. The realization was powerful and concrete.
Lost in the translucence of her golden eyes, it took an odd babbling sound coming from Omar to pull his attention away. He swung his head to look at the man beside him.
Omar’s eyes were wide, afraid. It was an emotion Eitan had never seen the man experience before. “She’s creepy, isn’t she?”
Eitan took several moments to gather himself before answering. “If that is what you brought me here to tell me, I am not going to be happy.”
Shivering violently, Omar crossed his arms and made a strange rocking movement with his upper body. His mouth contorted, and he gasped out a sob. “You’re the only one I could think of that might be able to save me,” he whispered.
Confused, Eitan frowned. “Why is that, Omar?” he pressed.
Running his tongue around his mouth and over his teeth, Omar looked everywhere but at Eitan or the girl.
“Omar!” Out of patience, Eitan snapped out the man’s name. He had other things to do far more important than the sudden unstable emotional state of the analyst.
“I’m… Eitan… sir… every time I look at her, I know I’m going to die,” he spat out in stuttered words.
Narrowing his eyes, Eitan studied Omar. The man thrived on pain. He thoroughly enjoyed his work analyzing and experimenting on humans. He turned his verbal reports into dramatic horror story narratives. This fear in his eyes and the restlessness of his body language was far out of character.
He had no explanation for it.
Carefully, Eitan considered how to answer. Deep down, he was a compassionate man. But, being a part of Xis denied him any expression of the trait. This was either a trap, or an uprising of conscience that Eitan hadn’t thought Omar possessed.
Gathering more information was always an acceptable option. “Could you explain that further?”
Omar shuddered, blinking rapidly, his mouth opening and closing. His eyes were shrouded with anguish. Eitan could not contain the shock that slipped over his face when tears fell from the man’s eyes.
“My soul is dead!” Omar grasped the sleeve of Eitan’s Givenchy suit. Eitan could feel him trembling. “I have seen!” Shaking his head, Omar fell against the wall, sobbing.
At a loss, Eitan could only stare. All of those employed at higher levels by Xis were highly intelligent. The unspecified requirements of the job included sociopathic tendencies and a lack of morality. Omar had earned his place because he had checked all of the boxes. This display of emotion was disturbing and had to be dealt with correctly.
Steeling himself, knowing he could not allow it, aware that the monitors were broadcasting the entire thing to the tech, he pivoted and pressed the button to exit the room.
Striding to the desk, he rounded to the keyboard linked directly to room eight and didn’t hesitate as he pressed his finger to the key that required security access. The fingerprint-enabled casing blinked green. Lifting it, Eitan pushed the red button beneath down in one quick motion before snapping the cover back
into the lock position.
He turned to the tech, his eyes cold, his jaw tight. The tech would never know that the tension was self-hatred. Later, when he was alone and on his knees before God, Eitan would allow the pain of what he had just done to overcome him. Now, he had no choice but to remain the pillar of ruthlessness.
“Was he exposed to something abnormal that would explain his behavior?” There were questions that needed to be answered, an explanation needed to be found that would explain a man’s death. Test subjects could be disposed of without question. A prominent figure in the lab was another matter.
“No, no, sir,” the tech stuttered.
Narrowing his eyes, Eitan leaned down, placing a palm flat on the desk, leaning into the man’s personal space.
The pupils he glared into dilated, lids widening around the whites of the tech’s eyes.
Swallowing audibly, the man stuttered a different response. “There was a, um, accidental, um, leak. A spill. He, um, got it on his hands, um, before we realized. Maybe it, um, maybe it… allergic! He was allergic to one of the um, compounds! Um, yeah. Allergic.”
Straightening, Eitan made sure the knot in his tie was still perfectly aligned. “Well, that explains it, then,” he said neutrally, as though they had just had a normal conversation. “Be sure to warn the body swishers.”
Afion would be unconcerned, Eitan thought as he walked away. There were always others ready to step into positions of power that might gain them favor. As long as his damage control was done well and no adverse attention made its way back to Afion, nothing else mattered to the head of Xis.
He had questions about the girl. He hadn’t been ready to walk away. Being so near to her had made him feel… alive.
Omar had placed the blame on a child held captive by impenetrable walls. More disturbing was the fact that Eitan felt that the blame was not misplaced. Nothing about Omar’s choice of words had hinted at foul play. Rather, where Eitan had felt his soul stirred by God at her gaze, Omar had suggested she had somehow made his die.
He would find a way to see the child again. He just needed to do it without arousing suspicion. Especially as he had already believed she was special for a different reason. One that he had no way of determining without someone he trusted. In Xis, that was no one.
Chapter Seven
Alric rolled restlessly in his sleep.
The earth spread out flat below him, with wispy smoke rising up from the grass. The smoke snaked over the ground to veil towns and cities. It billowed to blanket valleys and filled the air until what seemed a third of the earth was affected.
Hail began to fall, piercing through the sheen. Then, joining the white rain, flaming hail singed away sections of the areas covered by the smoke, igniting the grass and making blades scream as they died.
The trees could not flee from the onslaught, and fire nested in branches. Tears of blood trickled over dying trunks as they burned.
The waters of the seas beneath the veil roiled, and Alric gasped for air as he slept, his spirit feeling the turmoil.
A giant mountainous form fell from the heavens into the seas, pulling the water into itself as the weight of the heavy mass shifted the earth on the seafloor. The waves gathered strength and climbed the height of the mountain, rising soaked with blood, heavy with the corpses of the creatures that had once made their home in its depths. Ships crashed and sank into the high waves.
Moaning, Alric rolled, not wanting to see any more of the earth that cried out as it died.
A star glimmered bright. For a moment, he felt his restless spirit ease and then the star began to fall, so fast that the light surrounding it became fire.
The waters reached out for it, welcoming it into the unsettled home of its surface and blackening the blues and greens into bitterness.
The bitter water snaked its way from the seas into the springs and into the mouths of man, and they fell dead as they drank.
Tears wet Alric’s cheeks as he tried to wake, to escape the tragedy he was witnessing.
The sun tried to turn away, and one-third of it was struck into blackness.
The moon tried to turn away, and one-third of it was struck as well.
One-third of the stars tried to turn away, and were struck.
Darkness claimed the third of each, a strange phenomenon that Alric’s mind could not seem to grasp.
An angel appeared, its mighty form awesome, its features frightening. Alric’s spirit rose up in hope even as he grappled with the wonders of what he was seeing. The angel cried out in woe, its sorrowful song a crushing weight of despair.
Beneath him, a star was handed a key.
The air parted, and a shaft of an abyss appeared.
The key tore away the shadows that enclosed the shaft and smoke began to pour out, billowing, dark and thick, rising up to darken the sun and sky.
From the smoke, strange locust-like animals appeared, spreading out over the lands that Alric could see. People lifted their heads, a mark gleaming on their foreheads.
More lifted their right hands, reaching out for the locusts. There, the same mark gleamed, a beacon that drew the strange creatures.
Sucking in a horrified breath, Alric gasped as knowledge that they would die filled him. The locusts descended on them, fulfilling his foreboding, the people crying out in torment-begging that brought no mercy.
Alric sobbed as he lay in the clutches of sleep, his body curling into itself, seeking comfort.
A trumpet sounded and four more angels appeared.
They stood, imposing and magnificent, at the four corners of the earth that he could see.
Multitudes of angels rose behind them, some on horses, and began to march upon the earth. They and their horses were like nothing Alric had ever seen before. Fear gripped him, his muscles tightening as he writhed, the expectation of more horror flooding his heart and soul.
From the mouths of the army, fire, smoke, and sulfur were expelled and sought the lives of more that bore the mark. Blood covered the land that tragedy befell.
The riders’ horses breathed upon those that challenged the power they held, their tails striking out with death.
Those that remained still did not turn away, shrouded in the veil that seemed to signify where death belonged. They danced for the darkness, laughed in arrogance as they worshiped it, evil deeds flowing from their hands.
Sobbing, Alric tried to scream in his sleep.
A mighty angel appeared, and the scream caught in his throat. A cloud surrounded the being, a rainbow arched above its head, and its face was as bright as the sun and impossible to look at. Averting his eyes, Alric watched as the angel put his left foot into the sea, and his right onto the land. It shouted as loud as a lion, the roar reverberating, making Alric feel as though he vibrated from within.
Thunder crashed, seeming to come from many different directions. The angel raised his right hand to heaven.
Hope quieted Alric. Awe stilled his body. Anticipation trembled through him. The wispy smoke spread until it covered the whole of the earth.
Alric breathed in, his lips parting and his spirit singing. The angel reached out and put a scroll into his mouth.
It was sweet, and tasted like sugary honey that was pleasant as he swallowed, but his stomach roiled and rejected it when it became bitter. Bile rose up, and Alric woke as it filled his throat, lurching to his feet to rush to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach.
Lying on the floor, Alric prayed, asking that God take away the visions. They were too much. Too vivid, too real. They were consuming him.
Chapter Eight
Alric blinked his eyes open, knowing before he was fully awake that something was horribly wrong. The ceiling above him was one large gleam of dull light, encased behind filtered glass.
Sucking in a breath, remembering the earthquake, he tried to sit up and found that he could not move at all. Panic pushed in. His heart began to race so fast that it hurt.
A face leaned in. Ei
tan.
Darting his eyes past the man, he saw the angel was there as well, standing strong and silent. It calmed Alric.
“You’re not in good shape,” Eitan said softly to him.
Peering down, Alric saw the crisp stretch of a thin blanket that covered him. What he did not see was the familiar fleshy rise where his stomach typically protruded with the torso that he wore every day. Panic whirled to life again. They knew.
“You’re drugged,” Eitan explained and disappeared from his line of vision, returning moments later with a needle. From the corner of his eye, Alric watched him insert the needle into an IV that led to his arm.
“I need you to talk,” Eitan said.
It only took moments for the feeling of a blockage in his throat to clear. He had to swallow several times before he managed to get a sound out. “What happened?”
“They found you passed out in the hallway outside of Analytics and took you to the Xis infirmary. The doctor was alarmed when he couldn’t feel a heartbeat and removed your shirt. Imagine his surprise when he finally figured out you were wearing some type of prosthetic torso. Very clever, Alric.” Eitan leaned over, looking directly into Alric’s face. “I should have told you to get out.”
Alric shot a look toward the observation window that graced the entire wall beside the exit door.
“They can’t hear anything. They can see us.” Eitan tapped his jacket pocket. “I’m allowed certain luxuries… one of them being a scrambler so I can make sure my words remain private when needed.”
“The earthquake?”
Eitan frowned. “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
“There was an earthquake. I fell into the floor.”
Eitan studied him, clasping his hands behind his back. “There was no earthquake.”
Seal One Page 4
