by Lin Larson
“Understood. Why is Sean dead?” Mekka replied dryly.
“It was from your damned experimental medicine.” Sam said icily. “You and your nasty friends were slowly killing him.”
Mekka stood up uneasily and moved to a chair. “No, it was Sean’s design. It should have worked. Where had he erred? Did he tell you, did he leave anything for me?” Mekka was clearly agitated and not nearly as formidable. He now looked only like a sick and lost old man.
“He left his last notes?” Sam was not about to say more or where.
“You have them with you?” Mekka asked eagerly.
“No,” Sam said quietly. “And I don’t plan to bring them unless you tell me what is going on and why your awful drugs should ever see the light again. Also, the notes are my insurance from not being murdered by your organization.”
“Murder you, oh no. They only want your help.”
“No. Not true. I thought that they had arrested you.” Sam said.
“On, no. They merely brought me here to work.” Mekka replied. “OOOH!”. He suddenly grabbed his head. “Headache, bad one. I need my medicine. Excuse me, please.” Mekka struggled to get up from the chair, but Sam grabbed his arm. “Don’t you see. It’s happening to you too, just like with Sean. The headaches will get worse, then you’ll die, Dr. Mekka. You must stop the experiments.”
“Then I will surely die. The experimental medicine is my cure.” Mekka said tiredly, as the headache subsided.
“The side effects will kill you, Sir. Something is wrong,” Sam said firmly.
Suddenly a door sprang open and two men in white coats walked quietly into the room. They carried a needle and a syringe. Sam backed up and watched as they injected the doctor. Mekka closed his eyes and smiled as the medicine began to lessen his pain.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Mekka replied.
“Yes, Doctor,” they answered without emotion and strutted out.
Sam watched their exit with sadness. “Doctor, don’t you realize that they’re watching your every move. Why?”
“They want to help me.” Mekka said simply. “They also want some of the side effects. You see, Mr. Stone, these notes, could you decipher them?”
“No,” Sam replied curiously.
“Well, I couldn’t write them or understand them either before the drugs, but now I can. This is what they and I both want. We are improving intelligence. The headaches are a small price to pay for brilliance and a cure. A potent combination, wouldn’t you say? Think how we can help and change the world.” He crinkled his grey skin into a smile.
“Sir, it’s potent but lethal,” Sam said simply. “You’ll die, along with the others here. Your hopes are admirable, but speeding up evolution is deadly.”
“It’s my choice to try and there are no other people taking the medicine here,” Mekka said in confusion. “Why should you say that?”
“Because I feel it, Doctor. There are too many nasty guys here. It has a giant crematorium. The walls move and fire can flood a hallway. When they have learned all they can from you, they will eliminate you and I think others. It is set up for many. I suspect that if you examine the whole facility, you’ll see what I think is going on. Do your total research. Learn more. These are not good people here. You have to stop your experiments and get out.”
Sam knew he had said too much. The guards would be here soon, but then doing nothing yields nothing, better to get this ball rolling. He only regretted what would happen to Mekka. Sam was beginning to feel pity for the old man. He, like Sean, had missed the whole deadly impact of their vision. He also hated to think of anyone going through Sean’s anguish and pain at his death.
“Come with me, please sir. We can try and escape.” Sam implored.
“No,” Mekka said firmly. “I still have hope and am here for the duration. They won’t let me die. And they won’t hurt others. I trust them.”
“They will. You are foolish to believe otherwise, Sir. I’m sorry.” At that, Sam whirled around to see guards closing in from all directions. Three doors, Sam noticed. He had not realized there were so many doors. He shoved Mekka into two of the white coats and skidded around the bed, pushing it towards them. Dodging to the computer, he hurled it at the other guard, who grabbed it fearfully from the air.
“No, don’t hurt my computer!” Mekka shrieked.
Sam didn’t in the least care. He only wanted to leave this mausoleum. He bolted for a door and slid into the next room. He yanked the door shut, crept into the darkness and found another door. This place is a maze of doors, he thought as he darted from room to room, each as barren as the last.
The rooms felt like cells in the catacombs, Sam thought as he ran. Like cells for victims before being thrown to the lions, and he was the runner.
In the last cell, he found a corridor and stumbled through the blackness, falling onto a wall with a selection of buttons. He gingerly felt the outline of an elevator and pushed a button. The elevator’s light burst upon the corridor as Sam plunged into the refuge. He slammed the bottom floor indicator. He wanted to leave but also learn more. Sam scanned the trap door in the ceiling. He leaped up and shoved it open. He boosted himself up into the overhead tunnel of the elevator shaft and shoved down the cover. Now to think and be safe. He steadied his breathing. He would wait, give it some time for the static of his absence to pass. Hopefully they’ll think he got out and look outside and elsewhere for him.
#
At times men would come into the elevator and talk of the search. They seemed to think he had escaped. “Good,” he thought, “so perhaps I’m safe, for now.”
Suddenly a red light and a beeping sound came on in the elevator. He hoped it indicated that the facility was shutting down for the night but not the elevator. He wanted time to explore the floors. Sam figured that he needed to wait just a bit longer before he moved.
#
“Orders are to terminate them at 3 A.M. You need to bring your men and meet me in Area C- Room 3,” a man spoke gruffly as he strutted from the elevator.
“Yes, sir. Area C- Room 3.” The second man trotted after him and out into the hallway.
The voices woke Sam. He must have dozed off. It had been so long since he last slept safely. He remembered now, it was at the cabin and earlier with Caroline, he smiled. He hoped she was at her home. Dear Caroline. He promised to come back to her. He hoped he’d be able to do it. What did he get himself into? Well, he knew that he had to see this horrible situation to the end, hopefully a good ending, but he was worried.
More voices interrupted his thoughts.
Two other males continued in conversation. “Have they found the brother?”
“No, he may have escaped. The search has been extended to the entire building.”
“What do we do if we find him? Interrogate?”
“No,” he’s to be taken straight to Area C- Room 3 with the others, Orders from the big guy.” The elevator door closed as the men left.
“Others!” Sam repeated in his mind as his mouth fell open. He was right, but he had hoped not. There were other victims of experimentation. That must be what the guards meant. And he wondered who the big guy was. Was he the big boss and not Cigar Man?
Sam wanted to stop thinking and sleep again, but he knew it would be fatal. He had fallen asleep for a moment, but he would not do it again. He stretched and managed to stand up in the shaft. Suddenly he heard a voice and froze.
“And then. Don’t sleep again. Termination. Is that correct?”
Other men were in the elevator! There weren’t two before, there were perhaps four instead, or did the elevator stop and others get in while he slept? Sam berated himself silently. He hoped he hadn’t been heard while standing. He listened. No, he didn’t think so. Well, regardless, termination was meant for him, and probably others. In this day and age, how could this happen? Were they all drugged? Sam shook his head in shock and listened. The elevator was opening. The men’s footsteps seemed to indicate that they were leaving
. The elevator must now be empty. And he was tired of cowering here. Time to move.
Sam jumped down through the roof and back into the elevator. He pressed basement. Area C- Room 3 had to be there, near the crematorium, maybe. A place that burns bodies had to be hidden in the basement. The whole thing made him feel sick, but he had to know. Could he perhaps help to rescue them? That was a big perhaps, he realized that. After all, he was being pursued and had been sentenced to the same fate, probably. He had to find out who were the next victims, besides himself. He shuddered...The elevator came to a stop. Time to find out.
The doors opened to a dimly lit hallway. He peeked into the first room. There were tables set up. It was a large long room with about a hundred people playing bridge. Were they crazy? Who plays bridge at this hour. He drew closer and stared at them. They were all so old, so very old.
“A new player. How nice. Join us, won’t you, sir,” a sweet old lady sat in her nightgown and piped up.
“I’d like to, but who are you? And where did you come from?” Sam smiled.
“We live here. We are valuable clients of the big guy. I haven’t met him but I’m sure he’s very handsome, like you,” she giggled. “Tonight we’re having a pajama bridge party. Isn’t that a fun idea?”
“Yes, that sounds delightful, Miss. Is the big guy the leader of Acceleration?” Sam said expectantly.
“Shh! Sir,” she whispered fearfully. “That is a forbidden word,”
An old bearded man, with a walker beside him, spoke up. “Mary, does he have a pass to our party? He should be with the younger ones.”
“Yes, I think so,” Sam lied. “Which pass?”
“The one for our party, of course,” Mary felt joyful again and laughed. “We don’t care, George. He’s a nice man.”
“You don’t care because he’s young and good looking. You can wait. Tomorrow we’ll be young like him. Then you’ll want me,” George whispered and chuckled through his scruffy beard.
“I like you too, Georgie,” Mary said happily. She looked at Sam. “Do you want to play, Sir?”
Sam was enjoying talking with them but feared their future. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know the game. But you shouldn’t be here. You need to dress and leave. Bad things will happen to you in this facility, to you Mary, George, and all of your friends here.”
Mary frowned. “No, young man. You need to trust. I heard that the leader, the big guy, is going to make us young, intelligent and beautiful. And then, I’ll flirt with you again.” She winked.
“Hey! Mary and George, you are holding up the game. Sit down. Leave that man alone. We’re waiting. Hurry up or I win,” a frail old Asian woman howled with glee as she playfully punched the withered man next to her.
“No, I win,” said Mary, as she blinked rapidly and sat down suddenly as if programmed.
“No no, I win,” said George, as he too blinked rapidly and plopped down into his seat and stared out.
Suddenly all the old people in the room put down their cards, blinked, and stayed still. As if hearing a terrible sound, they all grabbed their heads and began to wail.
“What’s wrong?” Sam shouted over the roar.
“It’s the knowledge!’ George shouted. “We write now.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam yelled to George over the noise, but George turned his head away as if in a trance and grasped his pencil and a tablet.
Sam looked around. All stopped crying out and were holding their heads and then also picking up their writing materials. He was stunned as he listened to the pencils scratching on the pads and no other sounds in the room. He moved to the side of the room and waited. The writing continued for forty-five minutes exactly. Then all pencils went down. The entranced old people simultaneously moved and picked up their tablets and pencils again. They rose as one and walked to the doors, and placed their writing. materials within metal boxes on the front tables.
“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked a group, but no one answered. No one even
acknowledged that he stood there. They were robotic victims who would die in minutes; Sam was sure of this.
“Come with me, all of you. You’re all going to die!” Sam shouted urgently.
“They all just turned as one and sat back at their tables. They looked up and waited.
Sam noticed that the overhead lights were changing to red. “Could there be a key word, He thought.” “Wake,” he shouted. Nothing happened. “Play”. Nothing. “Run.” Nothing. “Acceleration.” “Mr. Big needs you to wake up.” Nothing. “Children.” That was it! They turned.
Sam gasped with relief. “Children, follow me.” They all got up, turned to face him, and followed. Sam led them to the elevators, where they suddenly relaxed and crowded together shyly.
A spindly old man tugged at Sam’s sleeve. “It’s my birthday today.”
Sam curiously asked. “How old are you, sir?”
The old man whooped, “I’m eight years old. I’m Herman. I like games.”
Shocked, Sam stared for a second and then forced a smile. “Me too.”
Sam looked at the huge group in amazement and then cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone. Now, Sam said, we’ll ride in groups. When your group comes up and the elevator opens, get win. I’ll point to the button for you, and you’ll push the first floor button. You’ll ride up quietly. When the doors open, I want you to run out as fast as you can to the front doors and through them to the outside. Don’t stop. Go through the door and outside. It’s a game. Run as far as you can. Run to your homes. I will try to catch you. You must keep running. Don’t let me or anyone else tag or catch you. If they do, just laugh and keep running. I am your teacher and leader. It will be fun. Promise to follow my instructions.” The old people all nodded. “Now, let’s begin our game. Walk to the elevators.”
“Yes.” They smiled and replied in unison. The first group quietly entered the elevator. Sam pointed to the button as a lady reached for the button and the doors closed. Sam watched as the lift rose.
He repeated and grouped others for the elevators. The old people quietly and obediently did as Sam had told them. Sam joined the last group, encouraged them on, and watched. The doors opened, and Sam watched the old ones for a moment. The crowds were exploding chaotically about the hospital entrance, through the doors, and onto the grounds. The feeble men and women were laughing and weakly trotting as best they could. Most didn’t make it past the hospital perimeter, but they enjoyed being caught.
Mary was scooped up. Old George with his walker made it to the second step by the doorway where he froze and kept blinking his eyes. Herman and three others reached the street. There they stopped, managed to sit down, and waited, blinking soundlessly. Sam ran and tried frantically to get them to rise. A guard that was holding a frail, blue haired lady saw Sam and started laughing.
“They’re finished, man. Can’t you see that? Stupid old people!” the guard shouted.
“They’re not old or stupid,” Sam retorted angrily. Oops. Sam regretted saying that immediately.
“Who are you?” The guard narrowed his eyes in the sunlight. “Hold it! You’re Stone, that brother.”
Sam started to run. A gunshot roared and nicked his shoulder. He paused for a fatal second, turned, and stumbled into an old man. He set the old guy quickly onto his feet and suddenly gasped, as three men quickly surrounded him. They stood for a moment, and then Sam kicked into his famous Bruce Lee moves. He almost succeeded as well as Bruce. He was able to down the trio rapidly and started to run again. Suddenly a fourth shot stung his leg and another propelled Sam’s head back. He sensed that none of the wounds were life threatening, but they were enough to stop him for a moment. Quickly a fifth man jammed a gun at his temple.
“Stop,” the owner of the last gun yelled out. “Or we’ll kill you now.”
Sam gasped for breath. “Well, if you put it like that, nah. I’ll stop. I can sometimes take directions,” Sam felt his head. Blood coated his hand, but he figured he’d li
ve, although he now had a terrific headache, and his shoulder and leg were achy and dripping blood. Most of all, he felt like a fool for getting caught. The gunmen were fairly fast though. They must have had orders to wound and not kill. Maybe he’d try one more time with his Bruce Lee, he started to make his move, but stopped abruptly. Three more guns were pointed closely at various parts of his anatomy. These guys were good. They must have been warned. They were ready for him and his style. Lousy for him.
Sam walked with the six guards, who still pointed their guns at him. Thoughts were whirling in his head. “Why did I stay? Stupid of me… How can people be so evil? I thought I could save these people. Don’t be so egotistical and confident next time, if there is a next time. And who in the hell is Mr. Big?
CHAPTER 12
Sam was beginning to feel awful physically, however. He was hurting, exhausted and hungry, as he stumbled along. Maybe he’d get a last meal anyway. He hated to lose and felt badly for the old people, but he was unsure of any next move. He had no idea what to do as an encore. Plus, the gunmen traveling closely around him were good convincer of his perhaps fatal options. He hated guns, especially when turned on him. They usually have no heart and style. Now Bruce was cool. Oh, well, the guns won this time. I’ll probably die by one. That was justice for me. He felt resignation. Of course, he did sort of leap into all this trouble or was somewhat dragged into it by Sean. Soon time will show me what the next surprise will be. Death or Death. Lousy options. I can do better, I hope.
Sam was now ushered into a small red room. These guys sure have a thing for colors, he thought. But then, it did match his blood dripping on the floor from his wounds. They probably like that. Suddenly he was tied to a chair, and the lights dimmed. He felt like a pig waiting to be cooked or eaten.
“Mr. Stone, welcome back to us.” A voice boomed over a speaker.
“You missed me, how nice.” Sam simpered.
“You assume too much. Now. Where are your brother’s notes?” The speaker spewed out angrily.