Torment of Tantalus

by Bard Constantine

  She smiled and shut the door.

  Jack chewed and glanced at the television set on the wall. The screen was split between four different news stations, all reporting the same damn thing. The nation was fixed on it, and no wonder. A daring expedition into the Bermuda Triangle to rescue a lost crew of scientists was captivating enough, not to mention the tie-in with the Blurred Man conspiracy, infamous Chimera Global, and implications of their pursuit of an energy source that could change the world—or destroy it.

  Press had already swarmed Miami, where the Halifax had departed from. Craggy-faced government officials and heads of investigative organizations gave reluctant interviews, all denying any knowledge or involvement in the venture. The mood in Washington was annoyed and concerned, and everyone wanted to know what Jack had to say. After all, if was his son who was responsible, and his former private corporation allegedly involved.

  Once again, the nation’s attention would be fixed on the actions of Senator Jack Blackwell.

  He turned the volume up on the set. Nathan Ryder was in the middle of finishing his lengthy and damning diatribe.

  “I’ve revealed the names of all employees assigned to Dr. Stein’s offshore laboratory, so the families can know what to expect. Please offer them your prayers and hopes for the safe return of their loved ones.”

  Despite himself, Jack felt a wry smile tug the corner of his mouth. The kid should be a politician.

  “As for any press, rescue and investigative units: I cannot stress how important it is to stand down. While Chimera Global is solely responsible for this tragedy, they are also the only organization with the technology and data to engage in a rescue mission. To avoid further damage and possible loss of property and life, I urge everyone to avoid the Bermuda Triangle until our return. The mill explosion was only the tiniest example of the destruction that this untapped power can unleash. Our data estimates the conflagration in the Triangle is already more than a thousand times more volatile.

  “The best bet is the mission at hand. We cannot promise anything except we will try our best to locate and extract those in danger and bring them home safely. If we fail, it will mean we are dead. If we fail, God have mercy on us all.”

  The video ended. Harried reporters immediately made attempts to break down the exact meaning of the message and the information it revealed. Jack muted the television and ran his fingers through his thinning, iron-colored hair.

  Alexander, you let this happen. You destroyed everything with your mad obsession. I knew you would.

  He slipped a secure phone from his inner suit coat pocket and selected a number. “Hello, Director. Yes, I’ve been watching. I’m calling to inform you that I’m taking over the operations of Chimera Global, as per the regulations filed under Emergency Protocols. Have all pertinent information on the Tantalus mission forwarded to my private email, and order our nearest carrier to head for Miami. That’s right, a carrier. Locked and loaded. I have to pull my son’s ass from the fire before he burns everything to the ground.”

  Part II: Torment

  Chapter 10: Ergosphere

  The first thing Nathan did was wash the sheets.

  The coverlets were next, along with the pillowcases. While they were drying, he tackled the room itself. Fortunately there was a supply closet full of cleaning supplies, so in short order he wiped down the beds and desk, then dropped down to scrub the floor, ignoring Michael when he left complaining of fumes.

  That’s it, Nathan. Keep distracting yourself. Think of anything else besides Elena.

  He couldn’t figure out what made her so special. At the briefing she had been dressed in military fatigues with a matching cap on her dark hair, which was pulled in her customary ponytail. Unadorned by makeup she almost looked boyish. But he could never mistake her for a man. She was still too feminine, too attractive for that. Sitting among the fierce-looking soldiers, she immediately appeared out of place. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen if Damon had kept her on the ground team, first to experience whatever horrors awaited at the Tantalus. Nathan probably saved her life just be showing up, and she had no idea.

  “There’s the hero.”

  Sid Damon stood in the doorway, dressed in all black military garb. His stare was particularly heated, as if he were trying to set the room on fire from sheer rage.

  “Yeah, Mr. Social Justice, I’m talking to you. You think you’re really smart, don’t you? Some sort of courageous whistle blower. The next Edward Snowden, that it?”

  Nathan finally realized what Damon was upset about. The video. He had hoped the timing would be right, so Blackwell couldn’t run interference and curtail it before everyone in the world found out about their little mission. Network security had been fortunately lax once Nathan’s partnership status was confirmed. Apparently Chimera thought he would fall in line once he was allowed into their inner circle.

  They underestimated him.

  “I did what I thought was right, Damon. Is there a reason why you’re here?”

  “I need you topside. Let’s go.”

  Nathan frowned at the rag in his hand. “Give me a minute.”

  “What was that?”

  Damon pounced. It was so sudden, so fierce and unexpected that Nathan could only stand there, stunned. His feet dangled above the floor when Damon seized him by the collar and hoisted. There was a single moment of frantic weightlessness before his back slammed against the wall and Damon thrust his snarling face inches away from Nathan’s own.

  “You think you’re someone special? That you’re giving orders around here? Think you can leak information on a classified mission and put everyone at risk?” Damon’s forearm rammed under Nathan’s chin, mashing against his throat. He gurgled when Damon pushed harder, exerting his weight. It felt as if Damon’s entire body was made of stone.

  “You’re nothing, Nathan. Nothing but a scared little boy trying to be a man. I can squash you like a bug and no one would miss you. Crush your larynx and drown you in your own blood.” He arm pressed even harder, cutting off Nathan’s air supply. “You really kill your old man, Nate? Hard to believe. But you think you can put your dirty deeds behind you. Walk around with another man’s face, pretending to be enlightened. But we both know you can’t go back. You can’t pretend. It’s always there, waiting for you in the dark.”

  The pressure against Nathan’s throat increased. Damon’s pupils quivered as a slow grin spread across his cheeks. “Come on, Nate. I know you have it in you. Show me the animal. Show me what you’re made of.”

  Nathan felt a moment of intense panic as his efforts to free himself became increasingly futile. Blood pounded against his temples as if his head was a pimple about to explode in a shower of pus and blood. He grimaced, then warbled something inarticulate.

  Damon frowned. “What?” He eased off just slightly. “What did you say?”

  “You mean…” Nathan coughed. “You mean…like…you?”

  Damon sneered and stepped back. Nathan wheezed and massaged his throat, hoping it wasn’t too badly bruised. It was hard to act nonchalant when he had been entirely helpless in Damon’s vise-like grip. He was even stronger than Nathan had figured. Crazy people usually were.

  Damon folded his arms. “You can’t even dream of being like me, boy.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. I can’t dream of killing seventeen unarmed prisoners in cold blood. I read your file. You’re a lunatic.”

  “Bullshit. My file is sealed.”

  “Nothing is sealed anymore. There’s more coding and firewalls blocking sensitive information, sure. But in the end it’s all just programming.”

  “And you’re the genius, right? So what if you’ve seen my file? I know you don’t have the guts to make it public. Not when you know I’d do you even worse than any of those insurgents. You want to sympathize with terrorists, go ahead. Lecture me about the Geneva Convention and interrogation protocol. Just don’t expect me to give a damn about animals that strap explosives to themselv
es for the sole purpose of killing and maiming Americans.”

  “You don’t care about Americans, Damon. You don’t care about soldiers. You fit a particular type that the military employs. Those rare, pure psychopaths who enlist for the opportunity to legally kill other people. You didn’t torture and murder those insurgents for your country. You didn’t do it for duty or honor. You did because you enjoyed it. Because there’s no other civilized way to kill people and still be considered sane.”

  Damon didn’t bat an eye. “We’re leaving civilization behind. Get that through your head. Civilized people won’t make it where we’re going. There won’t be any rules of accord, no niceties to observe. Only those who live, and those who don’t. I don’t have to guess which one you’ll be.”

  He turned toward the door. “And get your diagnosis right. The shrinks say I’m a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “You’ve already met the psychopath. Your old pal Blackwell. Now If you’re done doing bitch work, haul ass topside. Something’s wrong with Michael.”

  ∞Φ∞

  “Michael?”

  Nathan walked toward the bow of the ship where Michael stood, perfectly balanced on the slim rail guard as if it were flat ground. A small crowd had gathered further back. Damon leaned against the superstructure with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Some of the soldiers grouped together nearby, laughing and shouting encouragement.

  “Go on, do it!”

  “It’s a great day for a suicide!”

  Michael didn’t appear to care. The earlier rain had dissipated, leaving the deck to steam in the subsequent humidity. Michael had his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the horizon on the starboard side, where the sea glinted in mystery ripples of the darkest blue. His head turned slightly.

  “You ever think about the end, Nate?”

  “The end? Of what?”

  “Of everything.”

  “What do you mean? Like Armageddon? Some Biblical reckoning between good and evil?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.” Michael stared with vacant eyes. “We’re screwed up. Maybe good is just a label we stamp on the lines we think we shouldn’t cross. Maybe we’re all just on the edge of losing it.”

  “Come on. We all have a moral compass. Yeah, some people are wired wrong. But most people want to do the right thing. You know that.”

  “I know this—we’re all one bad day away from falling over the edge. One lust away from rape, one rage away from murder, one hate away from genocide. We don’t believe in heaven, Nate. Not really. And we damn sure don’t believe in hell. We live like we’re gods, like we control our own destiny. But we’re not. We’re just cattle. Slabs of walking beef waiting for the butcher to call our number.”

  Nathan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t think this is the place for that kind of conversation. Why don’t you come down from there and we’ll talk it over inside?”

  “The deck is pretty crowded right now. Didn’t want to disturb them.”

  “Who, the soldiers? Screw them, Michael.”

  “No, not them. The ravens, Nate. The ravens.”

  Nathan felt the hairs on his scalp prickle. “Ravens.”

  Michael gestured offhandedly. “Look at them—they’re all over the place. I’m surprised you made it all the way over here without them raising a fuss.”

  Nathan gazed at the spacious, empty deck. “Yeah, I see.”

  “I felt them. That’s the real reason I came topside. They were calling me. We’re getting closer to the nexus. To the point of no return.”

  “Ok, Michael. You should come down, though. No need to die before we get there.”

  Michael glanced down as if just realizing where he was. His eyes widened. “Whoa. You’re probably right.”

  He took great care in clambering down to the deck before he shakily placed his hands on his knees, much to the delight of the gathered soldiers. Nathan ignored their hoots and laughter as he placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

  “You all right?”

  Michael lifted his head with a quivery smile. “Things got a little hazy, is all.” He gave a start and stood, craning his head as though tracking something. “They’re leaving. All of them. You see?”

  Nathan felt a sinking sensation in his gut. “Yeah, Michael. The ravens are leaving.”

  “There.” Michael pointed the direction he had originally been staring at. Dark clouds gathered in the distance, massing faster than any Nathan had ever seen before. “They’re heading toward the storm.”

  Nathan glanced at the solitary figure on the far side of the deck. Guy stood by himself, but what unnerved Nathan was that he too stared the direction Michael indicated. His eyes appeared to follow something in the sky, where not a single thing was visible other than the distant squall.

  Michael nodded. “That’s where we have to go, Nate. That’s where we’ll find Blackwell’s missing facility.”

  “What? That storm looks pretty rough, Michael. How do you know?”

  “How do I know?” Michael gave him an incredulous stare. “How do I know? The same way you know where your house is. I just know, all right?”

  He motioned to Damon. “We’re off course. We have to head that way.” The thunderheads seemed to expand even as he pointed, dark and terrible in their swift formation. Lighting flickered and danced across the waters.

  Damon’s face twisted. “What—we change course based off a tingle in your spine? Some uncomfortable swelling in your big toe? Not going to happen. Our equipment indicated we’re heading for the strongest aberrant signal. You and your paranormal act can go back to the nut house you came from. We’re not about to dive head-first into a tropical storm.”

  The undisguised scorn had no apparent effect on Michael. He returned Damon’s searing gaze with unflappable calm. “Your equipment is wrong. I’m telling you, it’s that way.”

  “He’s right.”

  They all turned when Guy interrupted. He regarded Damon with an unblinking stare. “Tell the captain to alter our course based on Michael’s projections.”

  Damon shifted his feet, strained annoyance visible on his face. “Commander, are you certain you want to—”

  “You have your orders.”

  Damon glared at Michael before turning to head toward the bridge. Guy’s attention was also fixed on Michael. “Things are about to get worse. Much worse. We’re teetering on the edge of the ergosphere, but soon we’ll be sucked into the vortex. You two had better get inside.” He gave them a curt nod before striding away.

  Nathan turned to Michael. “This is getting crazy. All of this because of some ravens no one else can see?”

  “Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not real, Nate.”

  Nathan watched in astonishment as Michael abruptly walked off.

  The feeling of watching eyes prickled, and Nathan glanced up. Blackwell leaned against the upper deck balcony in a perfectly nonchalant pose.

  “Something wrong with Michael?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who invested in convincing him he was insane.”

  “If you say so. Be careful, Nathan.”

  “What?”

  “Be very careful. Just because he wasn’t proven insane doesn’t mean he’s not touched by something. Think about it. Everyone in direct contact, everyone in a five mile radius of the mill explosion all were affected to some extent by mental instability or outright madness. For Michael it may just be a matter of time. You might not want to be around if that happens.”

  “You think I’ll back off just because you say so? Too late for that.”

  “Just alerting you to the dangers, Nathan. Do with it as you will.”

  “If it’s so dangerous, why are you here?”

  “Because I need to see for myself.”

  “See what?”

  “An interdimensional bridge. A tunnel c
onnecting time and space.”

  “You think that’s what it is?” He felt the curiosity build up in a quivering rush. “Is that what your studies show? You believe there’s a chance of contact with intelligent life on the other side?”

  “You’d have to ask Dr. Kelley about that. She’s the expert.”

  “Is that a joke? You never gave me the chance.”

  “We’ve been busy, if you haven’t noticed. It’s been a delicate fight against time to get this all up and running.” He shrugged. “We’ll find out very soon if her theories are correct. The point is, there’s no telling how Michael will be affected by direct contact with the Aberration. Stay on the ship, Mr. Ryder.”

  A wry grin crossed Nathan’s lips. “I’m not buying your concern, Blackwell. More like there’s something you don’t want me to see.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t want you to see. You’re a nuisance with your need to report to the public. But in this case I’m just giving you a fair warning. Do with it as you will.”

  Footsteps approached from behind. “Nate?”

  Elena wore a bewildered expression. “What the hell is going on? Everyone was talking about you selling us out, then about Michael going nuts or something. What’s up?”

  Nathan glanced back up, but Blackwell had slipped away. He shook his head and sighed. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m still sane, so I can’t possibly understand. All I know is we’re headed for the storm.”

  “The storm?” Her eyes widened when she turned that direction. The sky darkened rapidly, and the gloom writhed toward them like black tentacles. It seemed impossible for any storm to gather so quickly. There was something sinister about it, something that made Nathan want to run downstairs and huddle under the newly washed bed sheets.

  Elena seemed to sense it as well, unconsciously crossing herself and raising her fingers to her lips. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. We’d better get inside.”

  ∞Φ∞

  The ship rolled once again, a swift dip from high to low that made Nathan’s insides churn. He placed a hand on his stomach and groaned.