he was doing now. She had to convince him. She had to help trigger some memory; something only he would know was real.
“Your father’s name is John. Your mother’s name is Joan. She’s been bothering you for years now about giving her a grandchild. Your first car was a blue Chevette; a stick-shift. You hated it.”
“Please, stop.”
Adelle was sobbing. “Your middle name is Michael. Remember mine? Remember what you used to call me when I did something funny? Can you remember anything?”
Darryl cried with her. He wanted to give her the answers, but he didn’t have them.
“Adelle…I can’t. Are you sure you’re right?”
“Try! Try harder! What was our cat’s name? Kurt, but you called him Pumpkin because we found him on Halloween!” Adelle cried hard.
Darryl wiped his tears and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure about anything.
The door burst open then and a wild-eyed Whitmere stormed over to them. He was furious. Adelle screamed. Darryl shrank in his bed.
“Things have changed. We’re going to play a little game of our own.”
T W E N T Y - F O U R
A door into the hallway opened slowly and a man stepped out. He shut the door quickly before two other mechanics caught sight of him and curiously walked over. The man watched them get closer, as he clenched the tool bag tight in one hand, a bloody wrench in the other.
“Who are you?” one asked.
“I was called down to check on the system’s flow.” Barton said, putting his used weapon behind him. “Let’s go take a look at the main unit. I may need some help with it.”
Barton motioned for them to lead, but they didn’t budge.
“No one said anything to us,” the other said. “There’s no problems.”
“Whose orders?” his partner asked.
Barton became irate. “Are you serious? “Do you want the Council to come down here personally? I don’t have time for questions. Let’s move.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Around the corner here,” they said and led the way.
Barton smiled, walking slightly behind, keeping their hurried pace.
They followed the hall for a short distance then turned right, heading down for a few moments before a set of large doors brought them to a halt. Barton could hear the steady thrum from behind the wall, could almost feel the powerful vibrations.
The two mechanics threw open the doors and entered right away. Barton followed without hesitation. The room was massive with almost every inch obstructed with tubes filled with the strange liquid. The mechanics weaved their way through the tangled mess of motors and wires leading to the main unit. The giant, square, smooth-black machine at its center was vastly encased with cylinder-shaped ducts leading in every direction. It was huge, thundering loudly in a rhythmic pattern.
The two mechanics walked over to the controls, checking out the gauges for the coils. They looked at each other, then questionably at Barton.
“I don’t see anything—”
Barton’s wrench struck him before he could finish. The other barely made out a surprised yelp before he too was falling lifeless.
Barton checked over the controls. Switches, buttons and levers were in small groups everywhere, with gauges of level readings that he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what any of them meant.
Frustrated, he began to trial and error. With a lever here and the push of a button there, the enormous box grinded and pulsed, groaned and heaved, in correspondence. He saw no difference in the temperature though. The readings on the gauges didn’t move.
He found a series of small knobs and began to turn them. They didn’t have the affect he desired. He looked around. There was an outlet into the unit. He pried open a panel, removing it. Inside stood a massive mess of wires and what he thought were turbine engines.
If he couldn’t find a way to increase the temperature, he may be able to damage the motors in a way that would shut them down. If he couldn’t get it his way, at least they wouldn’t get it theirs.
He went back around the machine. He pushed all the buttons he could, pulled all the levers, and turned all the knobs. It took him nearly half an hour before he found the right set to get the unit to respond louder. The more it worked, the hotter it would make the coils, Barton thought.
He stepped back, listening to the machine roar, wiping the sweat from his face across his new uniform. Readings were skyrocketing.
The sound in the room was nearly deafening now, forcing Barton out. He stood in the hall, still trying to formulate a plan that would seal the doorway. But he saw no locking mechanism, nor anything that would block the way in. He didn’t have much time.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
The alarm sounded throughout the hallway, loud and commanding.
No!
They would be coming now. He rushed back in and tried to find the source of the alarm. Red lights flashed against the ceiling everywhere. It would be impossible to shut them off. The heating unit was escalating out of the perimeters set. He cursed at himself for not thinking it would be otherwise.
Quickly he began to pull and yank cords free. If anything, he would damage it so it could not be repaired. He rushed his work, feeling the panic set in. They would be there soon. He needed to escape.
With all of their efforts planted down here, the control room above would be vulnerable. Maybe even unwatched. Now was the time.
He raced his way through the maze for the door. Just as he stepped out into the hall, a series of mechanics were rushing towards him. He counted 4…6…9 of them as they ran. Too many to fight, he thought grimly.
“Help!” Barton screamed. He staggered, using the wall to hold him upright, shielding his face as best he could.
“What happened?!” one yelled in questioning. Others shared his voice.
“I just arrived!” Barton staggered backwards through the crowd. They were checking him for injuries before quickly running into the room.
Barton slipped past them. He was dead if he lingered. Once they saw the dead bodies in the room, there wouldn’t be much room to escape.
More of them showed up. Barton hunched over, pointing into the room, coughing and gagging as they swept past him. From in the room, he could hear panic, desperate cries as they realized that their shield was in jeopardy. Barton smiled. Once in the clear, he bolted away.
He was down the hall, rounding a corner when he collided with another group. All of them went down in a tangle of arms and limbs. Guards and others that were coming to the aid scrambled with Barton to rise. Barton was outnumbered, standing in the middle of them. He pointed to the room behind him and gave a weak story quickly. But it didn’t work this time. One of them knew who he was. The game was over.
Barton went down fighting. He held his own for a few moments, but he was too overwhelmed. He was taken hard to the floor, smothered with knees and elbows. The last thing he heard was an alarm ringing and voices screaming in panic.
The hands around his neck began to squeeze tight. His vision went black.
The hallway was bright when Barton came to. He could feel arms around his own, holding him firm. He was being held upright, his feet dragging. As he came to, he began walking on his own, trying to brush off his captors to no prevail.
They nudged him hard in the ribs, keeping him from moving further. He was being taken to a higher authority, he had heard them mumble. He would be disposed of then.
His captors complained about the damage he had done to their ship and the great risk certain parts of it were now in. Workers were trying to do what they could to fix it, but a few wards were already being evacuated due to pressure failure. If they could not get the system back up and running correctly, then entire collapse would be certain.
Barton’s eyesight began to clear and his senses came back. He was alert, and ready for the chance to escape.
A tall female nurse walked their way and the four guards escorting Barton stopped to talk to her. Their word
s were hushed. Barton listened closely. He could only make out that whoever it was they were taking him to, was now waiting in a room down the hall. The nurse left, walking back in the direction she came. The guards began to move Barton forward once again.
Time for escape was thin and fleeing. He couldn’t slip past their grip, let alone leave the hall without being seen. Whatever stand he was going to make, it would have to happen in the room with whoever was in charge.
The guards reached a door, two of them staying in the hall, the other two pulled Barton inside the room. Barton’s heart beat quickly. He tried to calm himself, to prepare to fight to the death, but as he entered the room he only found one person waiting. He stopped walking and stared ahead into her eyes. He hadn’t expected it.
“Jean,” Barton gasped to himself. It was bittersweet.
“Thank you,” Jean said to the guards. “Wait by the door.”
The guards walked back as she stepped closer to Barton. Her eyes were hard. “This is goodbye, doctor.”
Barton was nervous. “Anyone but you, Jean.”
“Anyone but me and you’d already be dead,” she whispered. She stood inches from him. She eyed up the guards and found them just far enough out of earshot. “You are to be handed over to Whitmere, who’ll turn you into his greatest patient. You’ll be tortured, no doubt, for making him look like the imbecile that he is.”
Jean smiled. She saw the confusion in Barton’s eyes. She walked slowly around him, speaking quietly as she did so.
“That is if he had any of his precious serums left. Which he
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