Preservation

by Charles Lemoine

  No one was there, but her gut quivered anyway. She was being watched. Steeling herself against the unknown, she pulled her jacket a little tighter and kept moving—only this time a bit faster and with her hands balled into fists, her car keys sticking out like daggers between the fingers of her right hand.

  As she closed in on the final destination, an incessant thudding grew louder. The familiar sounds of a party or rave reminded her of her college years. The constant, never-ending beat, thumping through the night air made her relax a bit. At least there were other people close by, just in case she needed them. Although, no one would hear her screams.

  Standing in front of the two-story run-down property, Mariska checked her watch. Midnight, on the dot. Now what? Do I knock? The door looks thick, solid. Would anyone hear the knock over the pounding music? Above the door was a security camera, the red light was on so she waved. The door didn’t open. She put her car keys into her pocket and pulled her sleeves up to the elbow. Then, just as she drew her fist up to pound on the door, she heard a click.

  The heavy door slid apart in the center. The six-inch gap was dark, nothing visible inside. She leaned in a bit closer, her heart beating faster with each inch she moved. The closer she got, the more she could see, although she couldn’t make out anything specific, but it was clear there were people inside. Light and shadow danced about with the incessant thud that punched itself through the opening.

  “Stop right there,” a man said. His voice boomed through the gap in the door.

  Mariska jumped back at the unexpected voice. A moment later the doors opened wide; the man inside stepped into the dull lights of the street lamp above them. He was huge. Six foot five and at least two hundred eight pounds of muscle. His dark skin and bald head didn’t intimidate her. But his posture and cold stare made her rethink what she’d gotten herself into.

  “I’m here to see Badger.” The quiver in her voice betrayed her internal fear.

  “No one sees Badger unless they can answer three simple questions. No mistakes.” The man put a finger to an earpiece and nodded. He refocused on her. “Do you understand?”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’m supposed to meet someone that answered my online ad. Why would I need to answer your—”

  The man took a giant step toward her, and she nearly dropped her computer bag. She stumbled backward toward the curb when the man’s huge hand grabbed her wrist and steadied her. Stabilized, she readjusted the bag and straightened her jacket. “Thank you.”

  “You must answer three questions. One wrong answer and you’re done, no second chances.”

  Mariska nodded her understanding.

  “Question number one. What was the full name of your first pet?”

  Full name? Who were these people and how would they have this information? She thought for a moment, just to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. “Sir Augustus Poncherello Stevenson the Third.”

  He put his finger to the earpiece and nodded. “Second question. What is your father’s favorite color?”

  That depends, she thought. He told everyone it was blue, but Mariska knew it was yellow. But her father made her promise not to tell anyone that as he thought it made him seem less manly. Would Badger know the real answer? “Yellow.”

  The man once again put his finger to his earpiece and a few moments later nodded. “The third and final question. You must answer this correctly to enter and meet with Badger. What is the one thing you are most obsessed with?”

  The La Brea Woman…or was that too easy? She was also obsessed with learning her own past. What was the right answer? What was he looking for? Then it dawned on her. “The truth.”

  The man stepped aside and said, “Come with me.”

  As she moved through the doorway and into the dark, he held her by the wrist and led the way deeper into the darkness. Flashes of light danced around the room with a strobing effect, like an indoor lightning storm. The deeper she went, the louder the music became. The man who led her came to stop in front of wall of glass. She couldn’t see inside, but it was clear by the door and the men standing on each side, it was a protected area.

  “Is Badger in there?”

  He didn’t answer but knocked on the door in a series of fast and slow raps. The code could have been anything, but she suspected Morse Code…or maybe some kind of binary. The door opened, and they stepped inside.

  The room was a huge glass box. The walls, ceiling, and floor were one-way glass, and all around them was a huge rave. People bounced up and down to the incessant thump of the beat. Multi-colored rays of light spun from globe-shaped light fixtures that hung from the ceiling. Strobe lights flashed with the beat, and the crowd remained spellbound, not wise to the inside of the room she found herself.

  She looked around the glass-walled room. It was lined on all sides with glass booths. Each room glowed green and red. Empty rooms were green, and the ones that had an occupant glowed red. The people in the booths were hunched over laptop computers, and they wore headphones. Whatever they were working on, it appeared important. They weren’t distracted by the music, lights, or anything going on outside of the computer screen. At the front of the room was a gigantic display screen that flashed from one news story to the next. She recognized CNN, Fox News, and Headline News, but many of the stations were from overseas. Under the images, a series of zeros and ones scrolled down to the bottom in a never-ending sequence.

  What the hell was going on in here?

  The man who led her there pulled her toward an empty booth and punched in a code, and the door slid open with a swoosh. “Please, go inside and open the computer. Badger will be with you shortly.”

  “But…” She stepped inside and turned back around. “I’m scared.”

  He blinked and put his hand to the earpiece. “Don’t be scared. You’re safe here.” He nodded again at the voice only he heard. “My name is The Guardian. I will be waiting outside. When Badger says you can leave, I’ll be here to walk you out.”

  The door slid closed with a hiss. The booth filled with absolute silence and the red light turned green. She pushed on the door, tried to pull it open, and kicked it. Mariska was locked inside. She turned and rushed over to the computer, opened the lid, and put on the headphones that were plugged into the side.

  The computer screen flashed, pixels scattered over the screen like little bugs. The swarm of dots swirled into the hurricane and then went black. A blinking cursor at the bottom right was the only sign the computer was even running. Mariska used the finger pad to click on the blinking light. The image of a forest and trail showed on the screen.

  Mariska cocked her head to the side. The picture was familiar. It looked like Griffith Park, just to the north of the observatory. She regularly went there to think, solve the problems of the week. How did Badger know so much about her?

  Instructions appeared: USE THE FINGER PAD TO MOVE DOWN THE TRAIL

  She followed the instructions and quickly made her way down one of the many trails she’d hiked on her regular visits to the Observatory. It was a place she went to think, clear her head, solve problems, or just relax. A place where she felt connected to the universe even when she didn’t feel connected to anyone or anything in the world.

  The trail came to an abrupt end. What was she supposed to do now? She hit the escape key, and the screen flashed, exploding into a snowstorm of white pixels. Within seconds they condensed into an image. A badger.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Mariska said.

  The badger spoke to her from the screen. “It’s good to meet you finally.”

  She remained silent.

  “Oh, you can speak freely here,” he said. “I can hear you.”

  “So, what is all this?”

  “You asked for my help.”

  “I know that, but why are we going through all this…” Mariska looked around the booth. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I’m assuming you want the short answer.”

  Sh
e nodded.

  “I don’t trust anyone. This place… The Hive is where people come to learn the truth about all kinds of things. Answers to questions that governments, religious organizations, and even private corporations have been trying to keep secret for as long as anyone can remember.”

  “But if you know everything…why would you want to help me? What could I possibly do or offer you?” Mariska’s heart pounded. Was she officially in over her head? Screw it; she needed answers.

  “No one knows everything, but we can learn just about anything…if we try hard enough. You’d be shocked to know my clientele.”

  No doubt he was right. She was sure that many inspiring and equally as frightening things were revealed in this place. She looked out through the glass door for a moment. The rave was continuing at full steam. No one the wiser to the fact they were being used as cover. A distraction to espionage…or whatever the hell this was.

  Badger drew her attention back to the computer screen. “You mentioned briefly over the phone that you needed some deleted files restored.”

  “Yes, my boss deleted everything related to the museum off my computer before he would return it to me. These files are a culmination of years of research. My research.”

  “Depending on what software he used to clear your computer, I cannot guarantee an outcome or timeframe. Are you okay with that?” The badger turned and faced her on the screen. Its large eyes, blinked as he waited for her response.

  “I would appreciate anything you could do to help me.”

  “Answer the question: Would you be okay with a bad outcome?”

  What kind of a question was that? Of course, she wouldn’t be okay. Countless hours of research, gone. No way to clear her name. No way to continue her research. No way to find answers. “No. I need answers.”

  “Good,” Badger said. “I needed to know you are in this one hundred percent.”

  “In that case, I have a question of my own.”

  The badger said nothing. It waiting for her to continue. Its large, blinking eyes, piercing her gut.

  “Why me? Why help me?”

  “I’m always looking for my next challenge. Something interesting to keep me motivated. When I saw your request for assistance, I almost kept scrolling, but there was something in the words you used. I sensed your desperation.”

  “So, you get off on desperate women? Great…that’s encouraging. No red flags there.” She rolled her eyes and slumped back against the booth.

  “I find you intriguing.”

  “Intriguing? Well, I guess that’s better than desperate.” Mariska sat back up straight. “So, how do I pay you? I’m sure you don’t do any of this for free.”

  “You’re right. I don’t work for free. However, my payment is based on how much I have to do to bring you the answers you’re looking for.”

  “What happens if the files have been permanently erased from the laptop? Is that it? We’re done?”

  “We’re not done until I say we’re done.”

  The computer screen flashed white and then went black. The light in the booth changed from green to red and the door lock disengaged with a click. She turned toward the door, and it slid open. The Guardian was waiting for her.

  “Leave the laptop on the booth,” he said.

  “But…”

  “Badger will ensure its safe return to you.” He took her firmly by the arm and pulled her from the booth. She looked back at the laptop as the booth door slid closed. The red light went out as the booth went completely dark. The once see-through glass, now opaque.

  A light breeze tickled the hairs on her neck as she stepped through the door that opened out onto the street. She shivered as the heavy metal door slammed closed behind her. Suddenly, the dimly lit streets of Santa Monica didn’t feel safe anymore. The distant sound of a dog’s bark grew louder and more intense. She stepped off the curb when she heard tires squeal from somewhere in the night, sending her into a frantic adrenaline-fueled sprint for her car.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Ten

  Detective Wulf sat in his car like any good stalker, only he was on official police business. He’d followed Mariska to what had previously been known as an abandoned building in Santa Monica. He’d have to make a report to the authorities at the city the site was anything but abandoned.

  Loud, thumping music pounded its way down a full city block. Amazing no one had called to report a noise disturbance in the area. She’d been inside the building for quite some time, but there hadn’t been any indication that anything was wrong. No need to break his cover. Not yet, anyway.

  He opened his laptop and synced it to his phone, so he could use it as a Wi-Fi hotspot. He searched the internet for information about the old fire station. The results were from official sites addressing the issues behind the station closure. In an ironic twist of fate, the fire station hadn’t been up to new fire codes implemented in all city, state, and federal buildings in the state of California. The building had been shut down a few years back, and there had been talk about turning it into a local firefighting museum, but the repairs and modifications to the building had been mired in bad luck, greedy politicians, and a general lack of funding.

  A dark SUV drove by slowly, pausing at the front of the building for a half second and then continued on its way. Wulf craned his neck to see the license plate, but it was too far away, and the little lights next to the plate were not working. He continued to watch as the vehicle slowly pulled away and out of sight. Without warning a fluttering deep in his belly formed goosebumps over his body. He rubbed his arms to get rid of them, but suddenly felt he wasn’t the only one watching Mariska this evening.

  Torn between following the SUV and sticking with his original plan, he stayed put. Focusing back on his internet search, he came across a couple social media sites. They touted the abandoned building as the hottest new club. Low admission prices, great drinks, the latest music, and in a great location. He up and thought to himself, if he’d been younger and looking for a good place to party he could see how this place would fit the bill. According the website, admission into the club was exclusive and don’t bother simply dropping by, you won’t be admitted.

  Had Mariska somehow been invited to this place? From what he could tell, she was let right inside as if she’d belonged there. But much like himself, she didn’t seem to fit the standard age or type to be a regular here. Not to mention the fact she was wearing jeans and sweatshirt tonight, definitely not standard attire for a night out dancing at the hottest new club in Los Angeles.

  Movement in front of the building drew Wulf’s attention outside the vehicle. The front door opened and Mariska stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the building. She looked confused. Standing there in the dim light of the street lamp above her, she reminded him of a scared, lost, young woman. Someone on the run, in a strange, unfamiliar city. What had happened inside the former fire station?

  Wulf rolled down his window and listened. A dog barked in the distance, but other than that, surprisingly silent. Then without warning, a squeal of tires tore through the still night. He turned in the direction of the noise, but when he looked back, Mariska was on the run. She was spooked. He would have felt the same if he’d been in her shoes.

  She was headed right for him. To avoid being seen, he reclined his seat and turned away from the window. A few seconds passed when he heard pass by. With breaths almost as rapid as her steps, she didn’t slow as she went by. Wulf waited a few more seconds, until he no longer heard her footfalls through the open window. Then he sat up and readjusted his seat.

  Mariska had since rounded the corner of the block and was out of sight. He put the car in drive and made a U-turn, following her, making sure she would make it back safely to her car. His cell phone buzzed. The screen lit up with an incoming message. Stopping the car at the corner, he watched as she got into her car and peeled away from the curb.

  The message read: Thank you for making
sure she made it back to her car.

  Wulf looked behind him. The street was dark but empty. He looked back at the message. There was no indication as to who sent it or a return number.

  “What the hell?” he said. He tried to reply to the message, asking who had sent it. But, the message wouldn’t go through. An error message flashing Undeliverable in red further fueled his annoyance.

  He threw the phone down on the seat next to him. All of his investigating had turned up little to no evidence. Everyone associated with the museum came back with clean background checks. Not that a clean background check proved anything other than the person hadn’t yet caught yet doing something illegal. Or that the other names and aliases hadn’t appeared in the background checks yet.

  Wulf had uncovered a few unexpected details uncovered. While Mariska was clearly adopted, the details to her birth were anything but clear. She didn’t have a birth certificate, or at least not one issued from a hospital. Digging through the young woman’s past, he discovered she had been abandoned at birth in a dumpster outside the Page Museum. He shook his head as he thought about the irony. She’d been born at the museum—and almost died there.

  He’d been unable to determine who her birth family had been. Most likely, no one knew…maybe they didn’t even care. For some reason, it nagged at Wulf; even though it seemed like an important detail to this case. Call it a hunch or intuition; he couldn’t shake the feeling it was going to be these small details about her past that would help solve this mystery.

  Wulf started to pull away from the curb, but a large vehicle roared past, nearly taking off his side mirror. “Damn it, asshole!”

  The dark SUV swerved to the side, braking hard, and sliding to a stop at the far end of the street. Was that the same SUV that stopped at the front door a few minutes ago? Wulf stomped on the gas. The squeal of tires filled the car with noise.