by Enoch Enns
It was Friedelock. He had Tenius—or so he claimed. Carls felt torn within as to what he should do. He knew the dangers of going back. He feared for his daughter’s safety—for her life. She had already suffered so much, it would be unfair to bring her through such yet again. But if Friedelock was speaking the truth… then Tenius was there.
But he knew it just as plainly to be an easy bait. He hated the thought of another life to be used as such. He hated that, after all he had been through, it somehow came back to confronting Friedelock.
This time, however, it would be different. He had his daughter; he had his clarity.
He despised the thought but knew, with all he had been through and all that he hoped to accomplish, to proceed meant to find Tenius. Even if he were dead, even if it were a trap—he had mends to meet with this ever-so-feared Andy Friedelock.
I will find you, Friedelock, and if you even perceive of laying hands on her—I will end you with all that is in me.
The walls rose high above him as though some impenetrable barrier within his mind were making it real. It was real, but the feelings he got from just the sight of it were over cumbersome to the task. The large doors to Friedelock Industries slide open once more, this time he entered knowingly. It was a clean absence of sound that irritated his skin in the way one feels that at any moment the walls can close tight in a death-grip. For once: bright lights. It was hard to find any secrecy in movements with the exposure of white, open halls. Doors aligned either side of him and his daughter as they progressed. Joan's weary body had climbed onto Locke's back and he carried her. The steam leaking from the venting systems made him grow weary as well, but his conscience was too aware to fall victim.
Before him, just a few feet farther, the hall had been barricaded. Friedelock's voice came upon the COMM at this point: “Ah, it seems we're still down for maintenance on the main hall. Strange, isn't it, what gets moved down on the priority list when your employee list begins to whither. No worries, there happens to be a scenic route I have prepared for you....”
The door to Carls' left lit up green. He moved toward it and peered through the small window into the dim-lit room. He saw at the far corner a hole had breached the brick wall and light filtered from it. Friedelock wanted him to go through there? Why was he doing this again? It seemed he just couldn’t keep his daughter close enough to him.
The room smelled of bleach. Chemicals painted the floor tiles and bags of powder dusted the counters. Joan stirred to readjust herself—her small form far more susceptible to the leaking gases. It was probably best that she slept through this. He wouldn't want her ingesting unknown chemicals. Especially with what he knew the research of Friedelock to be. Still, he looked with curiosity at the faded papers and ink-marked cabinets. It's in the serum, the words faintly read. Serum-- could it be Norwick's? And what? What was in the serum?
“You know what, I'm beginning to find you not so strange after all,” the COMM clicked again. Carls didn't like the idea of being watched by someone. Especially Friedelock. Every move he made, every expression he carried-- Friedelock was watching. The man continued his monolog: “I find it fascinating-- your curiosity-- that you would be so courageous as to return to me knowing that you owe me something that you now have had part in stealing. My war with you is not with whatever it was you were looking for in that room-- I couldn't care less why you wish to speak to this Tenius fellow. I just don't care. That's why I'm fine with the two of you meeting! I just want what was mine... back. And you kept it from me. I know you had it, oh stranger of mine, I can see the look on your face. Yet here you are, and your daughter with you!”
He couldn't take it much more. His breathing got heavy-- Joanna woke. “Daddy, I gotta use the bathroom,” she said, swinging her legs to be let down. “Where are we, daddy?”
He could hear Friedelock's mocking voice over the COMM but chose to ignore it this time. Instead he focused upon holding his daughter's hand and moving through yet another door. The room before him was... wrecked. The light still shone brightly over the ravaged items and scientific work. “Daddy, who's that?” little Joan asked, referring to the COMM. But Carls wasn't listening to it, his attention had been drawn elsewhere. A small tablet lay upon red-stained table. His daughter could not see it, thankfully. And behind it he saw the attempts of a fleeing figure. The body was absent from scene, but the fingerprints obvious. As for the contents upon the small screen-- they were somehow familiar to him.
His mind tumbled backward in time. Back to a moment in which he was desperate. Back to when he had entered into Paradise Suites. Yes, it was there. The same message-- same note-- but upon this tablet: 317. Reaching, he grabbed it with a shaking hand. He remembered the room.
He remembered the terror.
“Daddy!”
His body twitched to the sudden darkness. The light had blown and scarred little Joan. She gripped tightly to his wounded leg. His injury from the tunnels was still there. But at least hers was nearly gone.
“It’s okay, Joan,” he reassured, placing the tablet into his sash. It had to contain more, but now was not the time to check. Friedelock was watching and he needed to keep moving. The sooner he could get out, the better. But how was he to know what Friedelock had in store for him?
He held the little angel in his forearms, bending low to clear the last hole in the wall of another passage. It was a hall again.
“Good,” the COMM echoed, “You've finally made it to the hall. Quick now, your friend is waiting for you three doors down and to the left. Hurry, I don't want you to miss the reunion....”
This wasn't going to be good, Carls knew that much for sure but in no sense could he have prepared himself, or his daughter, for what he was about to see.
He'd heard the TV as soon as the door had cracked open-- the broadcast flickering light throughout the otherwise dark room. He saw the TV hanging above the figure of a man, under which its shadow he sat slumped in his chair. His daughter buried her head into Carls’ shoulder as he stepped in shock. Literally. The TV buzzed with the electrical current beneath it. The man had been electrocuted to a brutal death.
“You see, Stranger, not many mess with my business and get out clean!”
Locke's eyes were back upon the TV-- was that Tenuis? The same man he'd watched before? How? Why? Who...
His heart was pounding. Friedelock was meaning to kill him too-- his voice reverberated in his ears. “I believe you owe me something Stranger! And so did Tenius!”
He was out the door and down the hall before the room lit up once more with static. The full tape of what he'd uncovered back then had been playing, the words of Tenius Morphela ringing out strong: “Time is getting short. TAP can no longer help us alone. They're getting too mischievous for us to outmaneuver, we must do it without them. Friedelock has gone mad in attempt to uncover it, we have to stop him. As for these kidnappings, we can no longer help. Leave that to TAP. Andy Friedelock is stepping up his game and we have to as well.”
Answering To Friedelock
“Where are you going?” Friedelock mocked over the COMM system, still nowhere to be seen. “You should know by now that if I want a guest to remain, then remain he shall!” Sure enough, he'd locked the doors from which Locke had come. The fact that little Joan was scared in his arms made his already-wild senses no easier to control. He stood vulnerable in the hall, staring down its endless passage. Where to run? It was about now that he regretted giving away his only gun. Still, he had the Nightingale's stick.
“Hold on, Joan,” he said, swinging her to his back and reaching into his sash. His sweat-dripping hands felt for the stick and withdrew it-- he moved quickly down the hall.
“Try as you may, you can't leave this place,” the man said. “Besides, I think we were introduced improperly last time. I think a proper meeting is due, wouldn't you say? Only this time, try not ruining it.”
The COMM hissed and Carls caught his step. He'd been trying the doors but knew Friedelock would not allo
w it. The light flashed green overhead one of them. Does he mean to meet me face to face? Carls’ mind rushed him. He couldn't risk meeting a man in the state he was in. So much rage for his daughter's safety-- so much fear for her life-- he would not be able to contain himself.
He took a calming breath. God help me not to kill this man... and to keep him from killing us.
The door pressed open.
It was him. “So we finally meet again...”
“What do you want with me, Friedelock?” Carls imposed.
The man smiled wickedly. Carls felt the strange sense of a darker presence. The man before him stood postulated and tipped his hat. “You see, we can still do this as men, you know? I feel ashamed that we have to be enemies, but that does not mean we must kill each other-- I'm sure this is just a big misunderstanding, my strange Stranger.”
Something didn't seem right. The man was too... something.
“So here is what I propose,” Friedelock proceeded, “First, come closer. Yelling across this vast space is doing pain to my lungs. Don't worry, I don't plan to kill you.”
Carls noticed the gun in the man's hand. How could Friedelock mean anything he was saying? Carls hated being manipulated. He could run, but that put the barrel to his daughter's back. He could back out, but that put cowardice to his name. Either way, his host was armed and he was not.
Carls stepped forward. His eyes blurred to the beat of his heart. Something was etching at the very points of his nervous system. It couldn't be Friedelock. It couldn't....
“There, there, now. See? Isn't it much easier on us both if we keep this civil like?”
“You killed Tenius.”
“Oh pity party, he deserved it.”
“Why? Why did he? Why did all these people here? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“Don't you see? There's so much more here at stake! Mind you, I did not wish their lives to be cut short, but they pushed my hand to end it. My work here is not to take life but to prolong it! You see, man is far more capable than the individual is let on to know. The place I have here is meant to be envied by man! Not regulated by some superficial government. Here, man is free of mind! No longer bound by his natural tendencies, by his body. Here, one might obtain the supernatural!”
“Which nearly killed my daughter!” Carls put in.
The man scoffed, “Your daughter's fate was brought upon by you. I still wander myself of the scene your presence had brought. Such magnificence!”
“She nearly died!”
“Oh hush hush,” Friedelock cautioned, his gun waving through the air. “I'm not the one you should be blaming. I assure you that my intents are pure--”
“But the means unjustifiable!” Carls cut.
“I said HUSH!” Friedelock bellowed-- a blast from his barrel ricocheting off the walls. The man was struggling to maintain his professional composure. They both were. Joan held fearfully to his shoulders. I have to think of her first, Carls reminded himself. One false move could easily put her in more danger.
“What do you want, Friedelock?” Carls asked, hands up so as to show he was submissive.
Friedelock stepped forward, brushing his rustled vest. “I... I want you to give me what is rightfully mine. You have it with you, don't you? I know it was more than enough for just your daughter. The files-- hand them over.”
Antoinette had them.
“Well, hand them over!”
“I don't have them.”
The man's eyes widened. His obsession with whatever had been within those files was great. Carls recalled the events he'd uncovered. “I. Don't. Have. Them.” he reassured.
“I don't believe you. Give them over. Now!”
The man stepped up and shoved against Carls exposed chest. Leaning back, Carls gripped the man's outstretched arm and swung back in-- they hit against the wall in an arm lock. Joan still held tight to Carls' shoulders and he quickly remembered the gun in Friedelock's hand. He was shoved away and stared at gunpoint into Friedelock's black-filled eyes.
“You don't have to be doing this,” Carls cautioned his steps backwards. The man was overtaken from within and his chest beat rashly. It was then that he saw it. The silhouette of a figure left the man and his eyes regressed.
“Friedelock, stop this madness. You've been overcome by the same darkness that's taken everyone else. Don't let it destroy you--”
“Enough!” the man bellowed, his nostrils inflamed with disbelief. “I will hear of no such nonsense! I rule my own mind, my OWN body, and never shall I fall for their demise!”
Carls couldn't believe the scene unfolding before him. This man was practically denying himself. The figure behind him stood massive and resembled the shape of the man he had possessed-- only no detail, no identity. Just dark.
He felt pity for the innocence that had been consumed. But the man's actions were nonetheless unjustifiable. He had fallen. He had killed. His hands were drenched in a blood so dark and terrifying that he had chosen to ignore its existence. He had chosen ignorance.
“Friedelock, please--”
“No! This is foolishness! You are in no position to point. Hahahaha, yes! No position... see? I hold the gun... haha....”
In a matter of seconds had Friedelock's composure been completely shattered. Carls could tell of something he feared. The man laughed to himself, holding his head up, and turned.
Carls but watched as Friedelock fell to his knees—for he too now saw the silhouetted figure. His hands trembled and every pore breaking way to sweat.
From his side did the gun raise.
From his hand did the gun shake.
And from his throat a desperate utter: “No...” -- a sound of thunder.
As Man Falls, So Do His Dreams
“Get out of there, Locke!”
If not for Trip's voice breaching over the Hand-Pal, Carls would not have been pulled from the shock still reverberating between his ears. Friedelock had dropped cold to the floor in red stain. Joanna was buried to his side and he quickly covered her eyes in embrace-- tarring himself from the scene and back down the hall.
The entire place shook.
“Quick, Locke! Before the whole place comes down!” What? What was happening? What had just happened? He wanted to ask but had not the time to pull the Hand-Pal from his pocket.
Sure enough, the wall to his right blew. Shrapnel and smoke were the least of his worries as the drums in his ears all but burst. He fell backward just barely managing to brace Joanna's following.
“Locke!” Trip's voice yelled over the COMM system now. Carls struggled to his feet. “Good, you're alive. I made it to the Main System and should be able to lead you outta here if we do this right. Now, quick through the whole that was just made. Once through, there's a door on your right-- yes, right-- that'll lead you into a storage cell. Get in there and find the trapdoor.”
He was already moving-- adrenaline fueling his body just as it did so many times before. For a moment, he could almost not tell that his beautiful angel still resided in his arms. For a moment, he could feel no pain. Thought nothing. Only focused on the steps given to him.
“You there? Good, now input the code: 317....”
Carls looked at the combinations lock. Sure enough, it was a three-number combo. And he thanked God it worked. The latch clicked and rose upward revealing a ladder.
He was back down into the sub-system.
“You there, Locke? I'm getting a weak signal from here... it must be the damaged sensory system. Listen, Locke, you have to reach Bay 43. It should be down your left. I'm getting crazy readings, man, so you better be careful and you have got to move quickly!”
The COMM cut out. Obviously Trip had enough to handle for himself as well. Left-- that was all Carls was focused on at the moment. Left and 43.
Only now he could hear the sounds.
“I hate sounds...” he mumbled to himself, bracing his daughter even closer to his chest. His arms were getting heavy but he chose to ignore. He was
to the left and dodging pipe breaches to-and-fro. To his dismay, the numbers slowly rose in count-- 31... 32... 33....
A form flashed before him. The already sparking lights of alarm momentarily went dark. Not again.... He stopped.
All he could think of now was getting to that bay. He had to make it there quickly but knew he had not the ability to fight whatever darkness lay ahead and ensure his daughter's safety. But he had to try.
A force knocked his first step right out from beneath him. He hit hard and Joan slipped from his grasp. “No!” Carls yelled out, reaching for her-- a form suddenly blocking the way.
A dark form.
A familiar one.
Once again the hand stretched out and Carls was frozen in place. Not... now... he beckoned his body, focusing every bit of his being to fight the powers about him. Somehow (for not even he knew), his hand skipped into his sash and grabbed hold of the stick. The eyes before him flashed a dark red and then was swept to the side.
Not by Carls—but another force that nearly blinded him. No longer petrified, his hand slipped back out and rushed for his daughter. Lifting her from the dripping pipes beneath which she'd hid, he preceded to run.
34... 35..... 38....
He could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet. Trip was right-- the whole place was coming down. But why? Who? That man... that shadow... who was he?
40.. 41... he was almost there. What to expect once he reached it-- he could not even speculate. Nothing made sense down here. All he cared about was getting out of the sub-system. 42....