Marcy looked puzzled, “This is part of your memories that are surfacing?”
I paused for a moment. “Yes, it has to be. I think I’ve been having flashes of a moment during some sort of Special Forces operation. We were bursting into a lab area, where things were going crazy. Something exploded into the side of my head, which may have been the nanobots being forcefully embedded into me. I also saw a device of some sort: struts of metal rings formed a rough sphere, and a person in a lab coat was activating it. The air started to bend around the center of it, and the guy went into it.
“Thing is that it started pulling me into it, as well, probably hitting my head even harder. The person in the lab coat seemed American, and I don’t remember any other accent. It had to be Bryson. But he wouldn’t have been operating out in the open like that, and my fingerprints should have triggered something in the system. So I don’t get it. I also don’t know who Matroni blackmailed with that video footage, but nothing from those documents describe the device I saw in my memories. Maybe it’s another project or something more secure.”
“Sam, there’s something else. When I stitched up your leg tonight, the damage was much less that it should’ve been; it’s possible the healing capability still exists in these ‘robot thingys.’”
“I think so,” I replied, “and according to the rest of this information, they need to replicate themselves into a ‘critical mass’ of sorts before they can begin processing any programming. How do they replicate, though?”
Marcy’s eyes lit up for a moment. “Well, they would essentially feed off your body or the nutrients in it. You were seriously malnourished at first, I remember. We had to bump up your caloric intake to compensate until it finally settled back down. It’s possible the nanobots were draining you in order to grow. I think to interface with your thoughts, though, they’d have to cross the BBB, at least partially. Oh sorry, I mean the blood-brain barrier—I’m so used to nursing terminology and acronyms. Microscopic organisms like nanobots would probably settle around parts of your brain to intercept thoughts and turn them to action. I suppose the body’s own electrical provision is what powers the bots. Can you do anything else besides turn invisible?”
“Like you just said, my healing, in general, seems to be faster than normal, and my charts at the hospital mentioned the same thing.”
At the mention of the hospital, Marcy closed her eyes, and we were both hit by thoughts of Janet. There was no way to escape them, so I just let them come. Marcy softly said, “Thanks for sharing this with me; what happened to her isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it…”
“Shut up, Sam, seriously. It’s Matroni’s fault. It’s Bryson’s fault. Not yours. Don’t dilute her memory with guilt just because you can’t handle it. I won’t let you, and if she’s actually alive, then that’s where we need to focus our energy.”
Guilt. It felt like my only option, but in truth there were others. One was to go numb and refuse to feel anything, but that meant pretending the pain wasn’t there. Instead, it gets buried down and subtly changes your choices without you caring or realizing it. Another choice was hate, which leads nowhere good and dishonors her memory. But the most difficult, the most daring, and the one that leaves you at the mercy of the heart is to feel it all, let it in, and forgive yourself.
It would bring some freedom in the long run, but I would have to let down the protective walls I’d built. Those walls had only served as a place to hide, so I let them down. The raw emotional pain was a waterfall, leaving me gasping. I was unable to speak or cry, unable to even breathe. I felt the familiar hand again on my shoulder as Marcy and I shared a moment of love for a friend. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to know that I could be a better person and bring whatever honor I could to Janet’s memory if we couldn’t find her.
I didn’t want anyone else to die—maybe not even Bryson—but he had to be stopped from hurting anyone else, and I needed answers. I was also a target until Bryson was neutralized, and I may have made Marcy a target, as well, just by coming here. She is a kind soul who did not deserve this, yet she accepted the role nevertheless.
She checked my wound and said, “Oh my! You’re healing! Not totally, but it’s visibly better than before. Some of the skin is even pink with fresh growth, binding together in spots with no dried blood.”
“Is that why I’m so hungry? And thirsty?”
“How would I know, am I a crazed scientist? I suppose it’s possible, but let’s just be grateful it works. And it means I can smack you hard as I want because you’ll heal.” She tried to smile at that; we both did, but it deflated. She instead visited her kitchen for a few moments and came back with a sandwich and water. I didn’t even bother looking at the type of sandwich, it just simply disappeared as she rested her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Marcy. I am more than overwhelmed by your kindness and help. Not just for patching up my injury, but for your research and understanding. It’s been an incredibly long few days, and I need to get some more rest.”
“You’re welcome, and I honestly don’t know what I’d have decided before you told me about Jan and your abilities. I really was trying to reconcile my beliefs about you being a good person versus the fact some really scary people came to our hospital asking about you. And you could have shown up while my grandchildren were here, which would have not have ended well.”
It was getting dark, as Marcy worked the night shift—or used to work the night shift—with Janet. She left for work, and I settled onto her couch for the night. What a mess. I tossed and turned, fretting over my loss and the associated mysteries. I had few friends in this world, and now one of them had possibly died. I finally drifted into exhausted sleep.
Chapter 21
I woke up several hours later to light streaming through the windows. I could hear snoring from another room—a telltale sign I’d slept through Marcy‘s return home. I checked under the bandage and saw my wound had nearly healed, so I tossed the bandage in the trash, washed my hands, sat down, and started to think about our next steps. I was lost in thought when Marcy walked in.
“Don’t set off the smoke detector with that thinking going on, it’s loud and annoying.”
“Like you.” I got smacked, but not hard, and she smirked. I continued, “Marcy, I have a plan, but you need plausible deniability. I will explain some of it, but can you trust me with the rest?”
She nodded.
◆◆◆
Two hours later I was shielded in the hospital parking garage, watching a new burner phone. After about ten minutes, a text message popped up:
Marcy: Call placed. In route.
Me: Acknowledged.
Good, my plan’s in motion. About fifteen minutes later, an SUV with a distinct government look about it pulled into the parking garage. Sleek, black and brand new. I waited on the third level, and soon enough it appeared and settled into a parking space close to the walkway inside. Two men in suits got out, walking with a calm dangerous look, and assessed all angles. Very professional, very well trained. I watched them head inside.
I moved toward their vehicle, hearing the ticking of an idling engine as a driver waited. I had planned for this possibility and went to the back of the vehicle. I would have rather hitched a ride inside, but I quietly inched under the vehicle, avoiding the hot exhaust. I placed a GPS tracker to the frame, hearing a nice click as the magnetic casing snapped against the steel. It ran on a battery that would last several days, plenty of time.
I moved back away and waited while Marcy fed the two suits she’d contacted a useless story that she’d remembered a few things about me, behaving like an eccentric nurse who just needed to retire. Almost thirty minutes later, I felt the phone buzz.
Marcy: They’re leaving.
Me: Okay, thanks.
Less than a minute later the two men walked back to the SUV, neither happy nor upset. Just a job. They drove off, and I messaged back to Marcy.
Me: They left.
Going silent, will contact when able. Be careful, don’t worry.
I turned off the phone, headed to my car, and pulled out my laptop. Bringing up the tracking software, I could see their vehicle smoothly moving to the outskirts of the city, where the blip on the screen settled in a group of buildings. It seemed to be an older industrial area, but with little activity. Given the part of town, they were probably in a run-down district with open buildings to play in. Parking a few miles away, I geared up. And this time, I brought extra magazines and other firepower.
As I got closer, I recognized the set of buildings from the map on the laptop, thanks to the software’s satellite-view function. The various buildings were spread out, and a security gate blocked all incoming access. The guards all wore generic security uniforms with a cookie-cutter efficiency about them. I suspected they were not private security, but well-trained, top-tier military operatives. I was definitely in the center of my personal puzzle, and I wanted to find all the pieces, after which I’d burn it all to the ground if that’s what it took to find Janet.
Around the rest of the campus stood a high fence topped with razor wire. The security house was concrete and reinforced with external steel pillars. A solid steel arm blocked entry before a heavy gate, as well as tough-looking steel poles and spikes on the entry road, mounted on an electronically controlled system from within the security house to lower when needed. The entire perimeter was heavily watched, but I was patient, and after an hour someone exited one of the buildings. During that hour I had counted ten mounted cameras and four guards patrolling inside the fence. A few stationary lookouts guarded the gate, as well. It was a solid setup, assuming someone arrived in a vehicle. Or was visible.
The man shrugged off a lab coat, got into his car, and drove to the gate, which quietly slid open on well-oiled hinges. I barely had time to slip inside after his car was clear and the gate started shutting. Upon reaching the door the lab tech had exited, it featured both a swipe card and keypad entry with a camera to verify the person entering before the door would be released. I picked up a few small rocks the size of my thumbnail and kept them handy. I had a plan, one that might fail, but it was my best shot.
As the late afternoon sun settled down, workers began to leave for the day. One group came out, but left no safe opportunity for me to get inside. After a few more minutes, two came out together, swinging the door wide. I caught it and slipped inside, but before it closed, I placed one of the rocks into the edge of the door to keep it from fully closing. This type of system would buzz an alert if the door failed to shut again, thus preventing the magnetic seal from relocking. Someone would investigate, hopefully from the inside, because now I was stuck in a small, secondary security entrance with locked doors that blocked both directions. This type of area is known as a “mantrap” by keeping someone between two locked doors if needed for detainment. In less than a minute, a guard opened the door to the outside, found the small rock, and closed the door again, leaving me still stuck.
After twenty long minutes and fighting some claustrophobia, I finally heard faint footsteps from the inside hallway. After a beep, along with the magnetic release of the door, it swung open. As a man stepped through alone, I stuck out my foot just enough for him to sprawl onto his stomach, and I stepped over him while his legs kept the door open. As he scrambled to get upright, I was already heading down the inner hallway into a large room that defined the guts of this building. The entire floor was one giant well-lit laboratory with a few offices along an outer wall.
In the center, encompassed by consoles, sat a large platform mounted with ring-shaped pieces of metal. My heart thumped at the recognition. It was nearly the same thing I saw in my dream or flashback or whatever it was—although slightly larger and only partially constructed. I stood there, unable to comprehend what I saw. Workers were mounting another ring in place and finishing its continuous rotation. They plugged in a few cables where the edge of the ring met the platform.
I moved closer and saw one of them turn and wave up to a control room, which I finally noticed was also along the outer wall between some offices. Bryson was there hunched over a computer. The ring assembly began vibrating with power, and the consoles lit up. Two rings had been assembled, fewer than in my dream, which led me to believe more rings would be installed.
When I moved toward the glass-shrouded room in which Dr Bryson was working, the rings powered up with a deeper humming sound. I grew dizzy and felt intense pain between my temples. I dropped to my knees and grabbed my head, biting back a yell as it got worse. I thought I had failed because through squinting eyes I saw my shielding flick in and out. One of the workers yelled, pointing at me. All at once the rings shut down, and I gasped for air, sucking it in greedily and blowing out the pain. The workers looked in my direction, but not directly at me. I was shielded again, but I had been seen.
“I saw an intruder,” the worker said as he pointed to my previous location, “but now he’s gone!”
“What exactly did you see?” Bryson yelled into a microphone that broadcasted throughout the room.
“Over there!” The worker kept pointing.
I hurried to the control room door and yanked it open, stepping inside. I unshielded as Bryson turned toward me, his face turning white.
“Where is she?” I demanded. The front sight of my pistol rested on the bridge of his nose, and my focus was steady as he froze.
“Do you have any idea the power you hold within you?” he said with forced calm.
“Do you have any idea what I’ll do if you don’t have Janet?” I replied.
He looked annoyed and simply responded, “You are able to do far more than recede from this world, young man. That setback you caused cost me a lot of time, but I gained a lot information from your nanobots. When I… ‘traveled’ here, you followed, and that action was imprinted on them.”
“Where. Is. She?” I felt my breathing slow, the pressure of the trigger slowly taking up slack.
“You know, while I was monitoring the nanobots in your system back at the construction site, there was a most peculiar burst of information when you escaped. It didn’t last long, but the data was enough for me to understand how you’ve gotten into restricted places so easily. In a way, you’ve helped push my research further and faster than I’d ever imagined. So thank you.”
Now I understood how he discovered my ability: I had shielded too quickly when trying to leave.
“In a day or so Janet would have been my guinea pig for new ideas. And the machine down there doesn’t exactly teleport; it’s so much more powerful than you can imagine. There are many worlds out there to exploit.” Bryson then smiled as his hand tapped a distress alert on the console. Even though I could see the fear, he merely said, “Bye.”
I squeezed the trigger, but the bullet slammed into equipment that had been behind him, right through the now-empty space. He had disappeared—not shielding like me, but literally gone. The hot copper-jacketed lead had blistered through the air and finally settled into a panel of sparks. I didn’t understand; even if he could shield like me, he would have died as the bullet penetrated his cranium, invisible or not. What didn’t I know?
Chapter 22
I stood dumbfounded for a few moments, but soon multiple doors opened and soldiers poured inside as I shielded into my familiar invisible cloak. I picked up a chunk of metal and threw it across the room as a distraction, although my chances of getting out of here undetected were about zero. A few soldiers headed in the direction of the noise; the rest fanned out and pulled on headgear that looked like night-vision goggles, but probably included some newer technology to track me since Bryson knew about my ability. And, apparently, he could do even more. I stayed low and moved toward one of the offices connected to the control room, keeping an eye out for both soldiers and Bryson in case he returned.
After entering, I retrieved a gift from my pack, knelt, and attached the grenade to the bottom of a bench, then stretched fishing line about o
ne foot above the ground across to a cabinet door. Finishing up, I headed through a door and into an area that held a few computers and some assembly machinery. I set another grenade, pin pulled, and trapped it against the floor by the feet of an office chair. This was the only way through, so once the chairs were moved, the lever would release and create another chaotic, beautiful explosion. I only wished I could keep other objects shielded after I walked away from them, as I’d have been happy to bring land mines too.
The final door should have led me to the corner office, yet I found a medical room with a single patient on the table, barely conscious under an IV drip. I couldn’t believe it: the hair, the face—Janet was still alive! I froze, unsure what to do, but decided to pull the IV and unplug her equipment, removing all the connecting electrodes. She groggily looked around with a puzzled expression and tried to speak, but sank back into what I assumed was unconsciousness as her eyes rolled upward. I knew I had to act fast before the guards came, so I picked her up from the table and softly set her in a corner that would, hopefully, receive the least amount of gunfire.
The only way out was through the grenade care packages I had left, but there was no time as the first one exploded in a flurry of screams. I pushed over the heavy table she had laid on to provide some protection. Janet was slowly stirring, and I prayed her drugs would wear off sooner than later. I peeked around the doorway and several bodies were on the floor amid a haze of smoke, but the rest were cautiously moving forward, checking for traps.
I peeked out again to fire, but a volley of shots hit very close to me. Apparently, their goggles assisted in locating me, and I ducked back fast. I was running out of options, and looked back at Janet on the floor, still in wonder at her being alive. I choked back emotion that threatened to flood me, balancing between joy that she was alive and outright fear if I failed.
Clearly, her clothes had been swapped so I would believe she’d been killed or as a false trail to lead me away. What began as an all-out war to burn down the entire operation had now become an impossible rescue mission. More noise from down the hall demanded my focus. I knew the team was nearing my second-office grenade trap, so I shot at the office chairs, and they moved enough to initiate the explosion as the grenade was freed.
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