Torment of Tantalus

by Bard Constantine

  “Your Other?”

  “My doppelganger psychosis. The remains of my consciousness, left in the stratum. When I was sent here, it was without those…unnecessary parts we conceal in order call ourselves civilized. I was more logic than emotion because of that void, able to operate without the hindrance of sentiment, fear, or pleasure. But my Other…it was the opposite. Unrestrained bloodlust and carnal pleasure. Every immoral thought, every perverted fantasy wrapped in silken folds of degeneracy. He was the dark side of myself. After the encounter at the mill, I became whole again. All of my memories restored. For the first time in ages, I know exactly what I have to do.”

  Michael’s laugh was so bitter he could taste it. “Great. That’s just great, Guy. You killed them. Drake, Fran, Rob, all of them. It was you the whole time.”

  “In a way. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I just didn’t know. But everything’s changed since then. There’s only one reason why that would happen. Because this Aberration…it’s the one we’ve been waiting for. The instance that ignites the event known as the Cataclysm, which will alter the world in irrevocable ways. So if you’re going to come, do so knowing what you find may destroy you beyond repair. This won’t have a happy ending, Michael.”

  “How can you be sure there will be an ending at all? You thought the last Aberration was the final one. What if you get to this one and find just another battle? Will it ever end?”

  “This time is different.” Something like sadness glistened in Guy’s eyes. “It’s like a puzzle you put together without ever seeing the original picture. It’s only when the puzzle is nearly complete that you have an idea of what you’re looking at. And what we’re looking at is…cataclysmic. Brace yourself, Michael. You may just witness the literal end of this world.”

  ∞Φ∞

  The Halifax was a great white shark of a ship, lurking in the harbor as if eager to depart for deeper waters. Michael didn’t know anything about naval vessels, but Lurch Davies was their escort, and Lurch Davies knew his naval vessels.

  The hulking Corporal was shaved bald under his cap and sported thick, curved mustaches. He chomped on a cigar, squinted out of one eye, and droned on about littoral combat ships, which had since been dubbed ‘frigates’ by the military. Michael zoned out most of the details, but what he did catch was how the US government bungled the entire program when the ships were constructed, resulting in overblown budgets, furious finger pointing, and ill-equipped results.

  In the end, the fiasco was carefully camouflaged under another top-heavy military budget, and most of the frigates were either downgraded or sold to the highest bidders. One such purchaser was Chimera Global, who then outfitted the combat ships with their own arsenals, upgraded the tech, and redeployed them to combat pirates, guard carriers, sweep mines, and otherwise pay for their cost in the employ of the very government that screwed up the deal in the first place.

  Michael shook his head, only halfway paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to the hotel. Guy. Still can’t believe he’s actually here.

  The Halifax was one of the upgraded ships, gunmetal in color and stealthy in design. It was large enough to sport a helicopter landing pad, and capable of deploying and recovering the high-speed rigid hull inflatable boat moored in its enclosed housing.

  Lurch’s gravelly voice was rich with pride. “Trimaran wave piercing hull and twin MJP 550 water jets. Four MAN12 diesel engines that put out 1,800hp each. Yeah, she can run, all right. Capable of cruising at 40 knots even in rough seas.”

  He pointed out the large gun affixed to the outer bridge. “That there’s a 40mm advanced Bofos cannon. We call it the mofo cannon. Knock an enemy bird outta the sky no prob. Baby’s got torpedoes and an anti-aircraft point defense system to boot.”

  Michael nodded in what he hoped was an interested manner as they exited the Humvee. “You expecting trouble?” He glanced at Nathan, who emerged from the rear door with watery eyes and compressed lips, probably from enduring the cigar smoke.

  “Trouble?” Lurch’s face twisted, turning his squint nearly sinister. “Can’t not count on it. Always better prepared, is how I see it.” He gave them an evaluating look. “You boys ain’t got the look of no consultants I ever saw. Look green as new turf, actually.”

  Nathan responded with a solemn stare. “We work for the AIT. No surprise you don’t know about us. We’re both off-the-chart geniuses. Top minds in our fields. Intrinsic field researchers specializing in intra-dimensional theory. Don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  “Well, I appreciate that.” Lurch exhaled a bluish cloud of cigar smoke and jerked a thumb at the ship. “Best get you aboard before we get wet out here. Storm’s about to break.”

  The first drops had already fallen by the time they boarded. Michael squinted and shielded his eyes when a helicopter drifted down to land on the ship’s landing pad in a flurry of water droplets and rotor-generated wind. As the chopper’s blades slowly stopped and crewmen scurried to secure it, Alexander Blackwell emerged from the cabin with his usual casual-yet-elitist manner, shadowed by Sid Damon.

  Lurch barked a laugh. “Looks like they’re not wasting time. You boys are this way. Not quite as fine as the top brass, but better than sleeping on deck.”

  ∞Φ∞

  The sleeping quarters were tiny. Just enough room for a twin-sized bunk, a miniscule desk, and an equally small metal closet. One corner was sectioned off for a cramped bathroom with a toilet and minuscule shower. Large ductwork piping was threaded through the walls above their heads. The room was the awful beige color used in places like prisons and hospitals.

  Michael immediately felt the air congeal, clammy and thick. The walls pressed in, ruthless in their claustrophobic aggression. Waves of panic thrummed against his chest, beating in time to the pulse of filthy darkness he felt hundreds of miles away.

  “You okay?”

  Michael steadied himself and nodded as Nathan squeezed past. His expression of shock and distaste was so hilarious that Michael forget his own discomfort for a second.

  “Not quite the five-star suite you’re used to, right?”

  Lurch stuck his head through the doorway. “Hell, boys. This here’s a junior officer’s cabin. You should see the barracks for the crew on the bottom level. Not so fine and spacious as what you got.” He clapped them on the shoulders and laughed all the way down the narrow hallway stairwell.

  Nathan shook his head. “This is unacceptable. The two of us in this…hole? Not possible. I need my own quarters. My own larger quarters.”

  Michael slung his duffel bag in the corner. “Well, you can take that up with Mr. Big Shot Blackwell when you see him. Meanwhile, I can’t stay here, man. Reminds me too much of my room in the loony bin.”

  Nathan carefully set his luggage on the top bunk. “Yeah, let’s get topside. This place is suffocating. I can’t imagine it’s been cleaned all that well, either.”

  “Looks clean to me.” Michael ignored Nathan’s incredulous stare as they stepped into the hallway. “How far is it to the Triangle?”

  “Technically we’re already there.” Nathan still gazed disgustedly at the cabin, and spoke in an offhand manner. “The Bermuda Triangle is composed of everything within the area of Miami to Puerto Rico to Bermuda and back to Miami.”

  “Sounds like a really great Spring Break trip to me.”

  “Whatever.” Nathan’s response was automatic, his gaze distant.

  “You okay?”

  Nathan shook his head. “It’s just…I guess I’m just realizing this is real. I mean…I just met the Blurred Man. Do you know how long I’ve been gathering data on that guy? He was just an urban legend a few months ago. Now he’s here. On this ship, with us. I mean, what have I got myself into?”

  Michael nodded. “How do you think I feel? I mean, in the back of my head I figured he’d show up. But I’ve spent so much time being convinced he was just a figment of my imagination. It’s just…surreal right now.”

  “
You think he’s right? That this is the endgame? All his time and work culminating into a single event?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Michael sighed. “Look, you don’t have to do this, Nate.”

  “Do what?”

  “You heard Guy. Whatever anyone else thinks, we’re headed for the worst possible scenario. I have to do this. For Cynthia and Michelle. And for me, I guess. I don’t have a choice. You do.”

  Nathan was silent for a moment. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  Michael snorted a laugh. “What’s not crazy right now?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Nathan appeared more uncomfortable than Michael had ever seen him.

  “Just spit it out. Can’t be that bad.”

  “One of the soldiers…”

  “Yeah…?”

  “I…know her.”

  “Her?” Michael frowned. “Wait a minute—it’s that army chick you hung out with last night, right? No wonder you got back so late.” He threw back his head and laughed. “I can’t believe it. Not you. Forging fearlessly into certain death to prove your worth to your lady love. That’s the sappiest, most ridiculously stupid thing I’ve ever heard. I hope you at least got some, man.”

  Nathan glared. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Look, Damon told me he’d put Elena in the front lines if I didn’t come along.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Man, that’s cold. Hell, I didn’t realize you were so vital to the mission. After all, I’m the one they needed to—” Michael paused. “That’s why you were the one to make the offer. They wanted someone I was comfortable with and used leverage to force you to do it. It’s all a conspiracy, isn’t it?”

  Nathan dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Michael. That’s what Chimera does. They take what you care about and use it against you. I just couldn’t let Elena pay the price for my stupidity.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Michael clenched his fists. “They would have twisted my arm anyway. If not you, they would’ve gotten someone else to make the same offer. I wouldn’t have said no. Not to that. So let’s be sure to make them pay. After we get back, we tell the world everything. We’re going to make it, Nathan.”

  Nathan looked up with a grim expression.

  “Will we?”

  Chapter 9: Promulgation

  The knife easily cut through the skin, then the tender insides.

  Cynthia Graham absentmindedly chopped the bell pepper into slices, then smaller pieces. The dish for the night was chicken cacciatore, straight from Giada De Laurentiis’ recipe book. Cynthia had never been all that great of a cook, but Wayne had suggested she take up a hobby to help her focus, and Dr. Wayne Crestor’s suggestions always made sense. She sighed and shook her head as she added three garlic cloves to the cutting board.

  Poor Wayne.

  She had been suspicious of his romantic advances at first; sure it was a trick he used on his vulnerable female patients. Gain their trust, then their panties, was what she had accused him of at the time. But to her surprise his interest had proved genuine. Wayne was handsome and charming. A bit like Michael, but more polished and professional.

  She never thought he would fall in love with her.

  She had left her childhood home to follow Michael. To fight for him. In the end, to just see his face, even if it was behind bars. But she had been rebutted at every angle. Every attempt was countered as if she played chess against a master opponent. She couldn’t understand nor believe why. Not the reasons they gave her in legal and psychiatric terms, expertly written and displayed to her in courtrooms and mailed to her home. Michael was not insane. He was not a murderer, not the raving psychopath they painted him to be in broad, ugly strokes. He couldn’t be.

  He couldn’t.

  But it became clear that Michael would never be a free man. The father of her child would not see his daughter grow up. He would miss her first words, her first steps, her first birthday. He would miss her first day of school, her first heartbreak, her graduation, her entire life.

  He would miss her.

  And as those points gradually sank in, it made more and more sense for Cynthia to follow Wayne’s counsel to move on. The sensible voice in her head told her that holding on to the impossible would not only ruin her, it would ruin her child’s future. A good man wanted to be a part of her life, a man both noble and patient. He overcame her rebuttals with grace and charm, always there. The romance had sprung from the shadows, perhaps because she just couldn’t say no anymore. Months whirled by, with Wayne making every effort to put himself front and center in her life. She almost wept when he proposed to her in front of his closest friends and family, completely vulnerable. She told him yes because she didn’t want to shame him in that situation.

  But in her heart, she knew she could never love him in the same way. She would have to tell him soon. Tell him that she couldn’t marry him. Before things went too far.

  A plaintive cry roused her from her thoughts. She wiped her hands on a towel and quickly strode to the nearby cradle, where Michelle had just awakened from her nap. Cynthia cooed to her child as she gently lifted her from the crib. Michelle stopped crying immediately and stared into her mother’s face with eyes too serious, too knowing. Cynthia nearly sobbed.

  Michelle’s eyes were just like Michael’s.

  “What’s the matter, baby? You got lonely?” Cynthia expertly checked for dampness. No soiled diaper for once. “Or you just want some noise?” She picked up the remote control and clicked the television on. “Maybe Mama can find Dora the Explorer for you while she warms up your bottle.”

  A perfectly coifed reporter flickered on the screen. “Again, if you’re just joining us, this is breaking news. Every major news agency has been forwarded this video memo, which appears to be not only genuine, but alarming in its implications. We’ll run it for you again.”

  The screen shifted to a video taken from a hotel room, where a young, well-dressed black man in eyeglasses gazed at the audience with a somber expression.

  “My name is Nathan Ryder. Some may know me from my research that exposed government cover-ups and conspiracy, detailed in my book The Blurred Man Files. I am sending this video nationwide to every possible news network because I am currently engaged in an expedition that will not only further confirm my findings, but one of such danger that I may not make it back alive.”

  He cleared his throat. “And I am not alone in this venture. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Michael McDaniel.”

  A familiar face leaned into the recording area. “Hello folks.” He waved.

  The remote dropped from Cynthia’s fingers and fell unnoticed to the floor. Michelle’s inarticulate gurgling sounded delighted as she stretched her tiny fingers toward the screen.

  “If you believe you recognize Michael, you’re probably correct,” Nathan said. “This is the same man accused of heinous atrocities against his coworkers in the shocking mill explosion in Birmingham, Alabama last year. The same man who never received a fair trial, nor was given the legal rights due to any American accused of a crime. The same man taken from his home by operatives employed by Chimera Global, who held him prisoner in defiance of every civil liberty at the behest of our own U.S. government.”

  Nathan’s expression was stern yet pleased, as though he had been waiting to say those words for a long time. “Now Michael will be given the chance he was denied by every authority other than God. He will tell you in his own words what he has endured. Then together we will relate the truth about Chimera Global, the mission we are currently engaged in, and the dire catastrophe that will befall everyone if we do not succeed. Ignore our warning at your peril. Chimera and its associates take great pride in being able to suppress the voices that accuse them. But the greatest threat to a silent empire is the spoken truth. You will hear the truth today, I promise you. And you will be the judge.”

  He moved to the side as Michael took a seat beside him. Cynthia felt h
er heart hammer against her chest. Michael had never looked as handsome as he did in that moment. His blue eyes seemed to see beyond the screen, locking gazes with her as though there in the room.

  “First of all, I’d like to give my love to my fiancée, Cynthia Graham, and my newborn child Michelle, who I haven’t been permitted to see yet. We’ve been done wrong, but I’m working on making it right. What I’m doing, what we’re doing right now, needs to be done. You’ll understand when you hear about it. But when this is over, when it’s all said and done, I’m coming home to my family.”

  Cynthia’s free hand drifted to her mouth as her vision blurred with tears. Michael’s face filled the screen, eyes glimmering with earnest emotion.

  “I’m coming home.”

  ∞Φ∞

  Senator Jack Blackwell bit into a spinach and goat cheese sandwich. He had coerced the cook to slip in a few strips of bacon, which made it taste a lot better than it should have. Carol was strict with her demands and the staff knew it, so much so that Jack had to wrangle just to get the added pork. Carol had been on the alert ever since the scare with his chest pains, performing a hostile takeover of his eating routine and stripping it of basically everything he ever liked about eating. He couldn’t even take a sip of Coke without taking a wary glance around for her watchful eye. She seemed to know every time he stepped outside of the boundaries of his dietician-prescribed meals, as though she employed spies to report his every calorie intake when she couldn’t be around.

  He grunted. Wouldn’t be a surprise. Carol was a tough woman, being a former CIA coordinator. Their marriage was more a convenience than a romance, but that didn’t stop her from performing all the duties of a devoted wife.

  A rap on his office door was followed by his personal aide sticking her head inside. “The hounds are ravenous, Senator. I won’t be able to hold them much longer.”

  He waved a hand. “I know, Kendra. Tell them I’ll be at the podium in ten minutes. That should buy me at least a half hour.”