Project RM: Genesis

by Peter A. Schoemann

  Joseph refused to meet Laurel’s gaze as she now pleaded with him. “It may have started that way, but it’s different now.” She turned to the professor. “He’s a genius, but there’s so much more to him that you don’t see. I’m done with this assignment.”

  The professor scoffed, expelling the air loudly from his chest. Joseph didn’t know if he could trust her, but he saw an opportunity. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “I don’t know what you see in me, but I’m glad you do. You’re no one’s possession.” Turning toward the professor, his expression again serious, he said. “I’ll go willingly.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” the professor said.

  “Now will you take off these handcuffs?” Joseph asked.

  “Not yet. I think you’ve spoken from your heart. But you won’t convince me that easily. I’ll tell you what: I’ll give each of you a quick bathroom break and get you some refreshments. We can revisit the handcuffs later after we discuss the wonderful life in store for you as a prized scientist who will have everything at his disposal.”

  After the promised trip to the restroom, the professor retrieved snacks and sodas from the refrigerator. Joseph sifted through everything that had happened on this crazy day. He sipped his drink, perplexed as to what to do.

  After another sip, a dark heaviness overpowered him. It felt as if the turbines in his brain had shut down. He looked at Laurel, who was already asleep on the floor, her head resting on a pillow. He let his head crash into another pillow, then passed out.

  CHAPTER 3

  Joseph awoke and surveyed his surroundings. Laurel lay beside him, the dim light from the staircase outlining her silhouette. He watched her for a minute, then looked out the window. The constellations told him they remained on the same course. “We slipped by the blockade.”

  “Yeah,” Laurel said.

  He bolted into a sitting position. “Sorry, I was talking to myself. I thought you were asleep.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’ll get over that…I hope. Anyway, I’m the one who should apologize.”

  “For what? Tricking me all these years? Or for getting us into this mess?”

  She sniffled and wiped her cheek. “Both, I guess. I was happy to find out for sure that you liked me. But I guess you may not feel the same way now.”

  Joseph thought about all he had observed over the years—especially her kindness toward others—and figured no one could act that well. That’s the real Laurel and I can trust her. But then he doubted his instincts. After all, she was a member of the KGB and, whether or not she believed in their cause at this point, she had helped the professor kidnap him. How did he feel now, besides confused? The soft light reflected off her glassy eyes. “I’m probably a fool, but I do feel the same. I don’t know if you’re telling the truth when you say you’re done with this assignment, but for some reason I trust you. I hope I’m not wrong, like I was with the professor.” He looked away. “Anyway, I don’t understand why you’d be into a nerd like me.”

  She slid her cuffed hand over his. “You use the word nerd as if it’s a bad thing.” They smiled at one another before she pulled him into the first meaningful embrace of his life. This time he welcomed the heat, as his body melted into hers.

  The connection transported Joseph to a new world, a world for just the two of them. Laurel’s voice brought him back to reality. “If the professor could see this, he’d be very happy.” She tugged on his ear as she finally pulled away. Then she pointed up with her index finger and raised her finger to her lips. “All right, what’s your plan?”

  What was that? he thought. Is she doing something romantic? “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not going to give up. Are you?” she asked, now touching her own ear.

  Joseph remembered the professor barging in the last time Joseph had whispered to her. Maybe the professor could hear them, even though he couldn’t see them. “Yes, I am.” Then he took a chance. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, “No, I’m not giving up. And I think I love you.” She could betray him or play along.

  The lights burst on and the professor stumbled down the stairs. “What did he just whisper?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Laurel said.

  “You know better than that. You asked if he were going to give up and he said he was, but then he whispered something. What did he say?”

  A pink hue filled her cheeks. “He said he thinks he loves me.”

  “And how do you feel about him?”

  She stared at Joseph. “I don’t think I love you. I know I love you.”

  Even though Joseph suspected she was simply playing his game, his face burned red hot as he slipped his hand over hers.

  “Perfect,” said the professor. “This is going much better than earlier. It will make the transition to your new life so much easier.”

  She continued to gaze at Joseph, but spoke to the professor. “So? The handcuffs?”

  After a moment of silence, the professor said, “Not yet. Just get some sleep.” He turned off the lights and went back up the stairs.

  Joseph lay on the floor and contemplated his next move. Laurel broke his concentration, setting her head on his chest and clasping his hand across her stomach. Her intoxicating fragrance overwhelmed his senses. He craved the distraction, but whispered, “I’m sorry. I need to focus.”

  “No problem,” she said, pulling away.

  His mind flipped back and forth from strategizing their escape to reminiscing on how they’d gotten here. Unfortunately, he knew every plan he was coming up with would end with the two of them treading water in the middle of the Atlantic. Joseph finally succumbed to frustration and permitted his thoughts to drift to the exhilaration of the leap forward he had made with Laurel.

  At dawn, he had a revelation: Stop thinking defensively. The scheme almost formed itself. He whispered, “Are you awake?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep either,” she whispered back. “What’s the plan?”

  “Which pocket did he put the gun into?”

  She thought for a second. “Left inside pocket.”

  “Okay, just follow my lead.” He picked up a handful of the snack mix from the dish sitting on the floor next to them. “I’m allergic to the peanuts. So, when I take them—”

  “I’ll call for the professor.”

  “Right. The injection’s in my sock.” Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Hey. A guy’s gotta be prepared.”

  She laughed quietly, then grabbed his hand tight.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve modified the formula to get a quick reaction.”

  She caressed his cheek as they separated.

  The warmth rising in his face, Joseph smiled at her, then swallowed the mix. He enjoyed the salty taste at first—until his tongue swelled and his throat choked on the air.

  She yelled, “Comrade, come quick!” Footsteps hurried down the staircase. “Hurry!”

  “What’s wrong? We’ll arrive at our destination in a few...bohze moi! What happened?”

  “He can’t breathe. I think it’s the peanuts. Do something...before he dies!”

  “All right, don’t panic.”

  Joseph could feel his face turning blue. He pointed at his right ankle. “Shot,” he managed to squeeze out.

  The professor grabbed for his ankle and pulled out the syringe. Almost as soon as the professor plunged the shot into Joseph’s arm, his throat began to clear. As Joseph sat up and sucked in air, he heard two explosions. He inhaled the faint scent of gunpowder and followed his cuffed arm up to see the professor’s gun in Laurel’s hand, smoke rising from its barrel. His eyes followed the muzzle to the professor’s henchman, Peter, who stood near the staircase, a pistol in his hand. A haze floated over its barrel as well.

  From that point, everything seemed to slow down. At first, it appeared that they had missed each
other. Then Peter dropped, blood pouring out of his chest. Relieved, Joseph looked to Laurel, who had trained the professor’s gun on him. She rocked back and forth, as if she didn’t have her sea legs. Then, he saw it—a small, red blotch expanding on the lower-right side of her blouse.

  “Oh my God,” Joseph yelled.

  “What is it?” she asked, before collapsing to the ground, yanking his handcuffed arm and the rest of him with her. As he hit the ground, the warm metal of the gun brushed the back of his hand. He looked up to see the professor retrieving Peter’s weapon. Before Joseph could react, the professor had grabbed it and spun back on them. Joseph’s fingers felt for the professor’s gun and slid it in the back of his pants.

  “Move over,” Professor Drucker demanded.

  Joseph complied.

  The professor leaned over her, searching. “You couldn’t do as you were told. Now look at you.”

  “Save her,” Joseph cried.

  “Shut up,” the professor said, pointing Peter’s gun at Laurel’s chest. “Where’s my gun?”

  Joseph snatched the professor’s gun from his pants and pressed the barrel against the professor’s temple. “Drop it or...”

  “Or what? You’ll shoot? You drop yours, or the last thing she sees will be her blood spraying all over you.”

  Unsure whether the professor could fire before he pulled the trigger, Joseph lowered the pistol.

  “I always said you were smart,” the professor said, grabbing for the gun. “Now, give me—”

  Bang. Joseph’s hand recoiled as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the professor center mass.

  Reaching for his chest, the professor crashed to the floor.

  Joseph shut out what he had just done and turned to Laurel. He lifted her shirt above her waist to reveal the wound. At the slightest touch at the area of impact, she winced in pain and a stream of blood poured out. He found a cloth napkin next to her and pressed it into the wound, securing it as best he could with his belt.

  “Ohhh. It hurts,” she whispered. Her face had paled, but she remained conscious.

  “It’ll be okay. We just...oh my God.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a land mass enveloping the horizon outside the window. “We’re headed straight for the island.”

  “Keys,” she squeaked.

  He rummaged through the professor’s pockets, found the keys, and unlocked their handcuffs. “I’ll be right back,” he exclaimed, sprinting up the stairs. Less than a minute later, he leapt off the stairs back into the cabin. “Can you get up?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Cause we’ve gotta move, now.” As he struggled to get her upright, he said, “I saw through a window to the bridge. The wheel’s rigged. I tried to get in and stop the boat or turn it, but the door’s locked. There’s no time to break in. Can you walk?”

  She bit her lip and groaned, “Yeah.” She leaned on him as they moved to the stairs. Looking again through the window, Joseph could see that the island now dominated the landscape. He grabbed one arm and one leg and threw her over his back. She moaned with pain.

  “Sorry,” he said, struggling up the narrow staircase.

  They reached the deck to see that they had only seconds before the yacht crashed into a rocky jetty. He stumbled over to the railing, dropped her over the side, climbed up, and jumped. The cold water shook him alert. Swimming under the surface, Joseph felt the heat from the fireball above, as a thunderous explosion reverberated through the water.

  CHAPTER 4

  Joseph found Laurel sinking nearby.

  He swam to her, and with all the energy he could muster, grabbed her and pulled her clear of the blast zone to the ankle-deep water close to the shore. He realized with alarm that she wasn’t breathing. “Come on,” he said, shaking her. “I can’t lose you. Not now.” He leaned in to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  Before his mouth reached hers, her eyes flashed open. She leaned in until her soft lips connected with his. Excitement flooded his body. She had taken him back to that other world.

  Needing to breathe, he released and gasped for air.

  She laughed, then winced. “Ohhh, that hurts. A little advice...try breathing through your nose.”

  His face flushed. “I thought you’d died.”

  “Not yet. I knew you’d save me.”

  Exhausted, he pulled her up to the beach. He ripped off part of his shirt and re-plugged the wound. She was pale as a ghost.

  Joseph surveyed their rocky surroundings. He couldn’t carry or drag her up the beach in search of the shelter the professor had promised. His hands began to shake. Unable to maintain constant pressure on the wound, he asked, “Can you hold this?” His voice was trembling almost as much as his hands.

  “Yeah.”

  He stared at her, trying not to show his fear. “Good. Do you know where the shelter is?”

  “No. Maybe at the highest point?”

  “Because of the high water table? That makes sense.”

  “Don’t worry.” She managed a smile. “I won’t die while you’re gone.”

  He forced a smile of his own. “You’d better not.”

  He left the beach and began to climb the sandy hill toward the center of the island. As he raced upward through the thin veil of palm trees, he found a few footprints heading toward a clearing. He followed them until his foot clanked going over some palm fronds. His pulse quickening, Joseph pulled away the branches to find a small, metal lid.

  He took a quick glance around before popping the hatch open and climbing down into the darkness. He groped the walls until he found the light switch. The dim fluorescent bulb illuminated the professor’s planned Spartan existence for the four of them. The facility amounted to little more than an oversized, heated, metal can. It contained plenty of supplies and reading materials, a couple of rooms with cots, and a lab in a third room. Joseph shuddered at the thought of his captors confining them in that small space.

  He grabbed the needed supplies, including first-aid materials, a magnet, tweezers, matches, a few cans of food, water, and a few other liquids. He threw them in a backpack and rushed back to her side. She was barely conscious, but opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t talk.” He trickled a little water into her mouth, then mixed the liquids. “Listen. I’ve got to get that bullet out and clean the wound. We don’t have time to radio for help. I’ve got something that’ll knock you out. Drink this.”

  She grasped his hand and stared up at him, a tear trickling out of the edge of her left eye. She managed a fragile smile, drank, and crashed.

  Everything had happened so fast today. Now that he had a second to think, he froze, except for his hands. They trembled again. From the medical books Drucker had given him, he knew what he needed to do. But he had never done it.

  To steady himself, Joseph touched his fingers to his temple and kept repeating in his mind: Focus on each step. He took a meditating breath and went to work. First, he started a fire to sterilize the equipment and cleaned his hands as best he could. Then, he stroked the magnet against the tweezers a dozen times. Ready to proceed, he inhaled once more and steadied his hands. He inserted the tweezers and, careful to avoid her organs, maneuvered them in slow, tiny circles. One minute passed. Then another. Then…he felt the impact of metal connecting. He retracted the tweezers with the slug attached, leaned back, and exhaled. To complete his first surgical procedure, he checked to make sure the internal bleeding had stopped, then cleaned the hole, administered an antibiotic, and sewed her up.

  Joseph didn’t leave her side until she woke. After an hour, a little color returned to her face and she opened her eyes.

  Tears streamed down his face. “Thank you.”

  “Wait,” she said. “You saved my life.”

  He sniffled. “We both know you saved mine, and not just with the gun.” He plac
ed a finger over her lips to end the conversation. A quick fantasy about remaining stranded alone with her on a deserted island ran through his mind, but he knew she needed professional medical attention. “Here, take this.” He poured a little liquid in her mouth. “It’ll help with the pain. I’m going back to the bunker to radio for help. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Will you be all right?”

  She nodded.

  Joseph knew he could reach the blockade with the short-wave radio, if he could just find the right secure frequency. He ran to the shelter, flipped it on, and shouted into the microphone, “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Kidnapping off the coast of Florida. Woman in critical condition.”

  On the third frequency, Joseph’s voice broke. “If anyone’s out there, please answer. My girl…my friend has been shot.”

  “Who’s this? This is the United States Navy. You’re using a secure frequency. Change the channel immediately.”

  “Please. We were kidnapped. My friend was shot.”

  “Then change the frequency and request help from someone who can provide it. We’re a little busy. Don’t you know what’s happening? It’s a matter of national security.”

  “And so is this,” Joseph said. “The KGB kidnapped us. We ran the blockade.”

  “You did what? What’s your position?”

  “We’re on an island. It’s crescent shaped, with a hill that rises about fifty feet above sea level. I’m not sure where exactly, but my guess is we’re on one of the cays in the Bahamas. Hold on.” He searched the bunker. Nothing indicated their global position. He clenched his hands, then remembered he glimpsed the speed of the boat when he tried to break into the bridge. “I can’t determine our exact location, but if we kept the same speed, accounting for the current and wave resistance, we should be approximately 180 to 220 miles east of Miami.” Joseph thought about the boat. “If I can find a more precise location, I’ll come back and let you know. Otherwise, look for the smoke.”