by Jobe, David
His eyes got that mischievous look in them. “I love you.”
“Of course you do.” She smirked. “Now run along. And leave Douglas at home. Meet you at Chateau Le Viseron. “
She heard him laughing that joyful laugh she loved as she vanished.
Epilogue
The King is Dead
Carrie Anne stood before the elevator, arms crossed and smiling. An elevator that should only go up two floors was taking the time of traversing at least six. She knew from her many talks with the soldiers that had broken into her home that in all, including the factory’s normal floors, this elevator went to six different floors, three of them secret and buried a few stories down. She had acquired Icarus Sodas for mere pennies on the dollar for what the building was worth. Being shuttered after the supposed leak, the business had gone under. What assets they had were locked up in the legal system handing out large lump sums to victims of the outbreak. Her cure for that outbreak had netted her quite a few million and her first real purchase had been this building.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
She stepped in, taking in the musky stench of the place. She punched in the code that would allow her to descend into the Patton Labs. The elevator jerked a bit when it started, giving Carrie Anne a moment of panic. She had been told when she purchased it that the building had taken some damage after the announcement, a few firebombs lobbed at the place by angry protestors. The wiring would need to be looked into if she wanted to start up the factory. She had no real intention of that. She wanted what was rumored to be housed below.
When the doors opened, she saw that the rumor had been true. Her guest had been close to the end of his life when he had mentioned the Corridor, so Carrie Anne had held onto reservations about the validity of the place. Now, before her stretched rows of bodies confined within vats of liquid. She stepped out into the corridor and marveled at it. She felt like her own collection jars had been a child’s imitation of what lay before her. She walked past each display glass, running a finger along it. “There will be none of me left once the cutting is done,” she marveled. A cruel smile stretched across her lips. “The Goddess is too kind.”
She had almost made it to the end of the Corridor when she noticed behind one of the larger tanks, she could see a faint white glow. It didn’t make any sense that there would be any lighting back there, and none of the other tanks had that. She stepped over the railing and shimmied behind the large vat. There she found an electronic door twitching. It looked as if it were trying to close, but some debris had fallen on the doors track. She pressed on the door, her strength allowing her to arrest its attempt at movement and slid back into the cradle of the wall.
Beyond she found a large square room bathed in white light. Along the walls, she found various instruments and gadgets that she did not know the use of. On the far wall, a single bracer sat resting on a ledge. It reminded Carrie Anne of the kind the A.E.D.’s wore to control which powers they harnessed. A revamp of the one Jesuit Patton had been wearing when he was killed.
In the center was another vat, this one laid on its side. She peered into the murky water and could make out the face of an older man. She knew the face. It had been in the news for months before the talk about Jesuit Patton and his master plan had died away to more pressing news of the time. She had seen the man’s body burned, so she knew this wasn’t the same man. Or at least the same body. She gave a shrill laugh. “Made a copy of yourself, did you? Clever.” She looked at the control console on the side, seeing that the countdown to release the man was stuck in a loop of about two hours. “But some fool with a flaming drink ruined that for you.” She started pushing buttons, trying to find the right one. After a moment the countdown jumped to zero, and the lid of the vat hissed. Smoke rose from the opening as the lid lifted on hydraulics.
Carrie Anne stepped up onto the platform where the man would exit. The mist rolled away to reveal the man, his eyes fluttering as he began to wake. She pulled a syringe from her purse. “The past was yours.” She told the man. She jabbed the needle into his chest and drove down the plunger, filling his body with the cure for whatever power he might possess. “The future is mine.” She placed her hand on the man’s chest.
His eyes flew open and locked on hers. He grabbed at her hand, trying to push it off, but he was no match for the sheer strength she possessed.
“This is for Eric,” she said. The stench of burning flesh assaulted her nose. The body gave a final jerk upward as the sound of sizzling echoed through the hidden room. When she lifted her hand, smoke drifted up from the hole burned into the man’s chest.
She turned and left the room, eager to take stock of her new toys, and to make sure no other secrets lurked within the walls of her new lair. She had great plans for this city, and she wouldn’t have some has-been popping up to try and reclaim his faded moment of glory.
About the Author
David Jobe is an author whose story "Dead of Night" was recently featured in the Anthology "Gifts of the Magi". David has a Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice. He is currently finishing his Masters in Psychology and plans to pursue a doctorate in that field
This is the third novella in the Broken Ones series.
