Regression - Rise of Mythos

by Johnwalkson Stratikatter

  “What about the potential good? Curing disease, helping the sick –” Lyssa defended.

  “Great, another idealist, just like Mendel. So what plan to save the world involved my brother being killed and you ending up in the Middle East being chased by armed men?”

  “His findings caught the attention of some undesirable people. We needed to secure the safety of his work.” Lyssa explained, “We were told we’d be able to continue the research – finish what Mendel started”

  “So why were you demanding money from those scumbags at the café? That hardly seems like continuing on Mendel’s work!” exclaimed Edmunds, doubting Lyssa’s sincerity.

  “What was I going to do? I was never the scientific mind – that was Mendel. After seeing what happened to him I just wanted to rid myself of this mess and get away from it all.” The tears began to well up again in Lyssa’s eyes.

  Edmunds mulled over Lyssa’s story and decided that until he could gather more information he’d have to trust her word.

  “Get some sleep, it’s going to be a long drive before we can reach my contact in Kharimah. He’ll be able to help out.”

  Lyssa, feeling the effects of the fear-induced excitement wearing off, welcomed the thought of any rest. Adjusting her seat to a more comfortable setting, she turned toward Edmunds.

  “Thank you for saving me back there.”

  “Don’t mention it” replied Edmunds, focusing on the busy city streets.

  “I’m really sorry about your brother, he was a really gre – LOOK OUT!” she screamed.

  As Edmund turned to his right, he saw the grille of an oncoming truck. The collision began in slow motion with the crumpling of the side of their vehicle. The popping of glass rained down while the metal structure of the Range Rover contorted awkwardly sliding sideways on the squealing tires before losing balance and rolling twice, landing on the roof.

  ****

  Undisclosed Location – 11:55

  “Hello Lyssa, how do you feel?”

  The distant, strongly accented voice confused the heavily sedated lawyer. She blinked slowly to help her adjust to the light. As the surroundings became clearer, she could make out a man in a white coat, but little else.

  The room was rather dark as the only illumination came from a single bulb hanging from a long lead directly above her. She continued her gaze around the room before tracing the floor back to herself. She began to feel the agonizing state of her body and a memory flashed back of Edmunds’ face just before the collision, then the pain jolted her back to reality where she let out a groan.

  “Do you require more morphine, darling?” the man in the white coat queried.

  Lyssa still could not piece together her situation, but as she looked down for the answers, she noticed she was sitting in a steel chair. This was uncomfortable and it confused her why a doctor hadn’t put her in a bed to assist with her injuries. Then her eyes glanced to her arms – thick leather straps restrained her to the chair. She began to panic.

  “Lyssa, Lyssa, Lyssa, why do you struggle so? Now you’ve been in a bit of mischief, haven’t you?”

  These questions were now frustrating Lyssa but she was still not in a conscious enough state to put together a sentence.

  “And with the vials no longer remaining stable, we’ve had to hasten the plan. You could say we’ve had to take more drastic measures.”

  “Wha’ve you…? Whas happning?” Lyssa murmured, slurring her words.

  “Let’s just say, you are now the vial.”

  Five

  Al Noor Specialty Clinic, Kharimah,

  United Arab Emirates – 17:22

  THE SUNSET Maghrib call to prayer echoed across the village as Edmunds recoiled back in pain. “God damn it, Herschel! Did you learn to sew from a brain dead mule?! Jesus I’m glad you’re stuck out here in the desert.” yelled Edmunds, as he grimaced through the pain from the medical patchwork his former colleague was attempting on his wounds.

  “Just be thankful you’re here at all.” Herschel replied, “If I hadn’t been in the area when you decided to flip your truck, you’d have ended up with a tag on your toe.”

  Edmunds remembered back to when he first met Herschel – a gangly Turkish man with a shaggy beard and rugged weathered face. Edmunds was pleased to see his old friend and it reminded him of Herschel’s odd characteristic. Although he grew up in Eastern Europe, he had seemed to develop an affinity with nineteen-fifties African American culture. This amused Edmunds but he appreciated the humor it would often bring in tough times. It was during a brief posting in Dubrovnik when they were assigned together to bring in a known arms dealer. This would have been a quick snatch and grab job, however Herschel had doubts he’d be brought to justice. Too many times targets that the field agents captured would be handed new starts at life for the smallest tidbit of information. So on this fateful mission, Herschel took it upon himself to cut out the middle man. He dealt the target two hollow tipped bullets to the back of the head with “You ain’t so tough – I can see right through you!”. Edmunds never saw Herschel after that, but had monitored his old friend, knowing he’d disappeared from the radar somewhere near the border of UAE and Saudi Arabia.

  “Yeah, I am thankful for that,” Edmunds admitted, “How’ve you been keeping? You look bloody terrible!”

  “Ha! You’re lucky there isn’t a mirror close by my friend,” quipped Herschel. “But you’re right; it’s a hard life out here. Now tell me, what brings you into my world?”

  “Will do, but first, where’s your whiskey?”

  Pouring generous amounts of the vintage Glenmorangie single malt into two tumblers, Herschel listened as Edmunds brought him up to speed on his situation. He also informed him of the news about his brother and began to speak of Lyssa and of the failed exchange at the café.

  “And what is your next move, Ed?” Herschel quizzed.

  “Well, that’s where I’m hoping you come in.” Edmunds replied.

  “Go on…”

  ****

  Live feed of Woomera, South Australia via CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia,

  United States of America – 04:45 a.m.

  “Is the live feed up yet?”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the communications analyst, “we are linked in with Agent Edmunds and his team, aboard the C17 over the target area and ready to deploy on your command.”

  The team in Virginia sat in the crowded meeting room, intensely focused on the large video screen that displayed images of the assault team preparing to deploy. On an adjacent monitor the pixels focused, revealing the infrared satellite visual of the barren land of Woomera, South Australia. A desolate area from the result of several nuclear tests in the late 1950s was still evident, despite numerous decontamination attempts.

  “Inform Agent Edmunds to proceed,” the mission chief replied, with a nod. “God help us if they don’t make it.”

  Edmunds’ comm. unit lit up and moments later he spoke with Langley. “Mission is a go!”

  On-board the aircraft, the team was running through their final checks when Edmunds stood and addressed his men. “On me – gentlemen, we jump in three minutes!” he yelled, holding up his thumb, index and middle finger to make sure his men understood under the drowning noise of the turbofan engines.

  With Edmunds leading the charge, the team made their way to the back of the aircraft as the large ramp door in the rear of the fuselage slowly lowered. From their vantage point at eighteen thousand feet, the men for the first time in eleven hours could see daylight, which was starting to fade across the horizon.

  “We are in and out in sixty minutes to the RZ point,” Edmunds briefed, “Black Hawks will extract to friendly territory clear of the facility. Remember men, this area was used to test radioactive weapons. It’s not safe, and I repeat it is not safe, to stay for any longer than our mission parameters.”

  The subzero air blasted in the rear of the aircraft, and Edmunds felt the temperature
drop as he sealed his helmet and raised the visor. “OK on me”, he traced a cross across his chest with his finger and jumped, curling into a ball to escape the propeller wash and turbulence from the aircraft and then flattened and deployed his wing suit.

  His team followed, and moments later the assault force was crossing the desert sky in formation.

  Edmunds looked down at the airspeed indicator and altimeter strapped to his arm, indicating that they would deploy parachutes in sixty seconds. They reached nearly one hundred and seventy miles per hour before Edmunds addressed his team through his comm. unit.

  “Target identified – two o’clock, we go in fast and strike hard. One final thing, we don’t know what the hell we will find here – stay alert.”

  With a massive jolt the parachute deployed and Edmunds unzipped the wing suit to let it fall free. Now in desert fatigues, he pulled back the Velcro restraints and started to assemble his Remington RSAAS Sniper rifle for the initial assault. Edmunds surveyed the distance to the facility and estimated he was about one thousand feet out when he finally flared and touched down. Before the chute had settled on the ground, he was free and had set the bipod on a nearby embankment.

  Looking across the arid desert with his night vision binoculars, he located the concrete compound. It was surrounded with razor wire and monitored by guards in Nuclear, Biological, Chemical suits on each corner.

  “I see four hostiles in NBCs – Herschel, Monaghan, Shephard, one man each on my mark – Hold … Fire!” In a split second the lifeless bodies of the guards dropped simultaneously and the team approached the facility stopping short of the south entrance. With a pair of cutters, they fashioned an opening in the security fence and waited for orders from Edmunds.

  “Herschel you are with me, Monaghan work your magic on that door. Shephard, you cover him; clear the perimeter, then follow us in.”

  Monaghan approached silently and then ran a perimeter of C4 explosive around the fortified doors. With the remote trigger in hand, he retreated around the corner and down on one knee with his arm covering his face he depressed the switch. Moments later a fireball erupted around the door tearing it from the frame.

  “I think we just announced ourselves!” Herschel stated, “Is it rude we came without a gift for our hosts?”

  Edmunds approached and threw two grenades and smoke canisters into the opening to blank their approach. “Relax Herschel, the drones have a gift and they will get it soon enough.”

  With the power knocked out, the team entered the compound with their night vision headgear, reaching the end of the darkened corridor. Descending several flights of steel stairs of the bunker they arrived three levels down. Edmunds could hear two men arguing over a faulty flashlight at a nearby junction. Silently he advanced toward the corner. Keeping his back flush against the wall, his hands gently guided him whilst keeping him balanced. He wrapped his leading fingers around the coarse concrete edge before slowly pulling himself around to view the enemy. Inches away, the two armed guards were too involved in their equipment failure to notice the stealth intruder.

  Seizing this opportunity to attack, Edmunds, with his trailing hand, reached down toward his ankle to unsheathe his KA-BAR combat knife. Even in almost pitch black, the blade’s honed edge would still catch the light, showcasing the sharpness of the weapon. In one swift, fluid motion, he rose to his left, forcing the point of the knife past the victim’s clavicle into his shoulder blade. Levering off the spluttering guard, he then high kicked the other under the chin and with the crunch of his neck the guard fell to the floor.

  The team then continued downward until they reached the lowest floor where gunfire erupted. Edmunds and Herschel dove for cover. Edmunds looked back at Herschel and signalled with a closed fist for him to flank to the right along the gangway, while Edmunds provided covering fire.

  Reaching behind, Edmunds pulled out the two Desert Eagle pistols and kissed the barrels, “Don’t let me down boys!” He quickly stood and pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, unleashing hell down the corridor. Fire flashed from the muzzles and in slow motion the recoil was evenly matched by Edmunds muscular, tattooed arms. Brass shells rained down on the concrete floor. The first hostile was hit clear in the chest and his life terminated at the instant he realised what had just happened.

  Herschel then took out the remaining hostile with an accurate headshot, blood splatter coating the nearby wall.

  “That’s two – move,” both men headed toward the end of the corridor and punched through solid double doors before skidding to a halt.

  “Holy fuck!” Edmunds exclaimed. When he looked up he saw the large room full of vials and a canister full of organs and human remains suspended in fluid.

  “Whoooah! Check this out,” said Herschel, with a concerned tone, gesturing to Edmunds with his rifle muzzle. When Edmunds spun around, he saw a large room dimly lit by a backup generator with a series of mutated people; men and women that had bird like qualities.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Herschel asked as he shuffled nearer to an oversized cylindrical glass tank filled with fluid. Leaning in to get a closer look into the greenish tinged vessel, he wiped the settled dust off the smooth surface. He could make out a shape, but it was unclear of what it could be. Herschel began to circumnavigate the container in search of a better view. About a third of the way around he began to distinguish a large torso accompanied by bulky limbs. Swinging his gun around to rest on his back by the strap, he was able to cup his hands around his face to help focus on the specimen. He was mesmerized by the bubbling fluid and eerie silence. Herschel then began to make out the head, but it wasn’t that of a human; the shape was wrong. The bubbles seemed to settle somewhat and the blurry being became very clear. Herschel reeled backward, stumbling to the floor.

  “O-O-Oh shit!” Herschel stammered, grabbing for his gun. “Those eyes – that thing ain’t natural, man!”

  “What are you whining about?” Edmunds asked, turning around with surprise by his partner’s reaction.

  Herschel cautioned upwards toward the vessel to where Edmunds approached and tapped the glass.

  “Are you afraid of the scary invisible monster under your bed?” mocked Edmunds.

  “Whatever man, I saw what I saw” proclaimed Herschel.

  “Yeah okay Hersh, we better keep a move on. We need to locate the asset and extract – maintain the mission.”

  Edmunds and Herschel advanced forward, checking the corridors as they worked deeper into the basement. Finally, they reached a large vault. “This is it. Monaghan, how far out are you?”

  “There in thirty seconds. Find the vault?”

  “Yes – door's solid – will need a big key,” Edmunds replied.

  Monaghan soon arrived and placed remote detonators in a grid pattern across the door.

  “This will send a percussion wave, we have to be clear. Once it’s armed it’ll detonate in sixty seconds. Let’s go! Move!”

  The team retreated up two floors and crouched in a concrete lined room when the thunderous roar echoed throughout the facility. Moving quickly, they worked their way back through the smoldering ruins and into a laboratory where the occupants were on the floor unconscious from the blast. In one corner, a woman was strapped to a chair with her head resting on her chest not moving.

  Edmunds quickly moved toward her and cut the restraints free with his blade. Slapping her across the face gently, he whispered, “Lyssa, can you hear me – we have to move” Unresponsive, he picked her up and started to make his way back to the entrance.

  “Let’s go team. We have to get to the RZ point; the Black Hawk will extract us so we can reorg.”

  As they neared the entrance, they looked up and saw Shephard sitting against a wall with a fatal head wound. “Spread out! Hostiles are close!” Edmunds ordered as he sat Lyssa against the wall. She slowly began to come around once placed down.

  “Mendel,” she whispered in a haze, “you’r
e alive. You came back for me…”

  Aware of the imminent danger, Edmunds looked up toward the door before turning back to Lyssa.

  “Lyssa, it’s Edmunds. I’m going to need you to focus, we may be in for a rough exit.”

  She took a deep breath and her gaze returned to Edmunds as she became aware of her surroundings.

  Edmunds then made his way to the entrance. As they pushed open the remains of the door, Hershel felt a searing pain in his abdomen “Shit – I’m hit!” A fire fight then erupted from outside.

  Edmunds ducked as the supersonic crack from the bullets passing kicked his adrenalin into gear.

  “Dammit!” Reinforcements had arrived. Seconds later Monaghan’s chest erupted as a fifty-calibre bullet sheared through his ribcage, leaving a plate sized cavern in his back. He dropped and hit the floor face first.

  “Shit, pull back! We need to find another way out of here.”

  Propping up Herschel, Edmunds retreated back down the passage where they had come from, with Lyssa close behind. Sparks flew off the metal walls as the bullets ricocheted down the hall narrowly missing Edmunds and his team.

  Checking the doors along the corridor, Edmunds finally found one that was unlocked and they made their way through into a room. There was a ventilation grille and through it Edmunds could see a maintenance depot with vehicles parked along one wall.

  At the far end of the workshop, a large Kenworth vehicle transporter had been stored. Edmunds figured it must have been used to bring out the equipment and vehicles needed to run the rogue facility. Not dwelling on this, he knew it was their way out.

  “That’s handy,” Edmunds said and then smiled at the others as he pointed to how the truck had been reversed in for a fast getaway. “We just have to get into that bad boy and we will be home free.”

  Herschel looked across at Edmunds, “Use a charge?” with a grimaced look on his face, knowing they were trapped in the room where the C4 would detonate.