Sequence 77

by Darin Preston

  “Reservoir nine is near my neighborhood, I know a shortcut,” said John, pointing to one of the addresses.

  “Then that leaves pumping station sixteen for me,” said Seth, scratching the address down on a piece of paper. He put the note in his pants pocket. Handing the original set of addresses to Manisha, he gestured toward the door and stepped into the hallway with his posse close behind.

  Reluctant to let go of Manisha’s arm, Leo pleaded with her to play it safe. “No messing around now. Tell one of the officers here if you need to go to the hospital, please.”

  “Call me when you catch him, Leo.” Manisha spoke with a worried smile as she watched him turn around and rush to catch up with the group. Feeling a shiver run the length of her spine, she did her best to shake the idea that something terrible was about to happen. “Please be careful,” she whispered. The harried sound of his footfalls soon disappeared down the hallway. Wanting nothing more than to continue to help the team, she began studying all available information about the reservoirs.

  Despite her confidence that Niclas still required time to carry things out, she couldn’t help but fear what it might take to keep someone so brilliant from enacting their plan.

  Especially a plan they had spent a lifetime perfecting.

  Chapter 32

  Home is Where the Pump Is

  AN EXCEPTIONALLY PEACFUL day looked down upon unsheltered rooftops from directly overhead, forcing shadows to retreat. The sound of loose gravel popping and cracking under bald tires forewarned the approach of a green van veering slowly into a compact, secluded parking lot. Aqua blue reflections shimmered off the van’s speckled windshield. The vehicle followed a worn path toward the faded yellow paint of an employee-only parking stall. Faithful, but in need of maintenance, the vehicle’s brakes squealed loudly as it came to a complete stop near a blandly adorned gray building.

  Peering cautiously out each window before finally committing to shifting the van into park, Niclas had long held the feeling that he was only moments from capture. Although he knew it was unlikely that anyone would be lying in wait, there was still the slightest chance that a fast getaway would be necessary. After one more deep breath, he shut off the engine and turned to Walter. “We’re here, my friend,” he said, smiling faintly as reality set in. His long quest was nearing an end.

  “Can we go inside now sir?” asked Walter, his door already propped open in anticipation.

  Grinning, Niclas held out an open hand toward his eager friend. “First, give me the cooler and then get the bag from under the seat, please,” he instructed patiently.

  Handing over the blue cooler, Walter leaned down awkwardly to retrieve a worn, brown duffle bag from under the passenger seat, bumping his head on the dashboard in the process. “Ow!” he said, grabbing his head as he passed the duffle bag to Niclas.

  “You all right, my boy?” Niclas leaned over and rubbed the grown man’s head as if he were a small child needing to be comforted.

  His injury soothed by the caring touch, Walter closed his eyes and relaxed. “It’s better now sir,” he said, his lower lip protruding out slightly in a pout.

  Gently patting Walter’s blond head once more for good measure, Niclas found the gesture just as calming for himself. “Good, I’m glad you’re unhurt. Let’s go inside,” he said, opening the driver’s side door and stepping carefully onto the warm pavement. The soles of his work boots crunched on the exposed stones of the faded blacktop.

  He turned toward the building in front of him. Holding the cooler in one hand and the tattered duffle bag in the other, he looked up at the modest structure in front of him. A long, two-tiered flight of narrow, concrete steps led steeply up to a metal door that had been painted gray to blend in with the plain looking outer wall of the mundane construction. A tall chain-link fence stood above and to each side with an intimidating amount of razor wire coiled along the top edge. A large yellow sign to the right of the door read:

  Unit Well #17

  – Established 1966 –

  No admittance without authorization under penalty of law

  Reading the sign as he had many times before, Niclas looked down at his neckline. “Oh, almost forgot!” he exclaimed, hastily setting the duffle bag on the ground and reaching toward the van’s steering column. “Charles has one more job yet to do,” he whispered to himself and unclipped a nametag which was attached to the signal lever. The rectangular piece of plastic had the familiar name and smiling picture of Charles Millburg on the front, but the title read Pump Maintenance in bold red letters across the top. He secured the tag to his shirt pocket and closed the van door. “Ok, here we go,” he said, groaning slightly, and reached down to pick up the brown duffle.

  He approached the base of the rickety steps, looking once over his shoulder to ensure that Walter was still following him. Last time they visited, the distractible man ended up across the street, petting a friendly neighborhood cat, and chasing butterflies the time before that.

  Niclas smiled to himself as he remembered another curious young boy who had loved catching bugs and turning over rocks to find insects. The smile faded quickly as the memory leapt forward into darker times and thoughts of how much he had lost since then. No matter how far into his childhood he remembered, a shadow loomed over everything. Innocence could not be reclaimed once experience had chased it back through time. Moving forward was truly the only alternative.

  He started up the steps with Walter close behind. A dual railing on each side of the stairs gave little in the way of support and noticeably began to sway as the two men slowly ascended. With a slight sense of vertigo washing over him, Niclas stumbled slightly, threatening to fall backward. Thankfully, his stable-footed companion quickly grabbed his shoulders and righted him. “Thank you, Walter,” he breathed heavily. The two men continued toward the closed door. He winked at Walter who happily knocked loudly to ensure being heard by anyone inside.

  A buzzing noise sounded and the door opened to reveal a red-haired man with a full beard, wearing a blue hard hat and white coveralls. Ushering them inside, the man welcomed them in a boisterous, friendly voice. “Hey there, big guy! Good to see you too, Chucky.”

  “Good day to you, Duncan,” responded Niclas cordially with Walter following quietly inside.

  “I was watching on the camera and saw you almost took a wee spill there,” said Duncan. He leaned against the door to close it behind them. He shook his head in frustration, “I’ve been trying to get the city to reinforce that railing for months. It’s just a bit too wobbly for my taste.”

  Reaching up, Niclas smiled and appreciatively patted Walter on the shoulder. “Luckily my friend here is sure on his feet.” His companion smiled proudly.

  “It sure is a good thing you decided to bring junior today or you’d be in a world of hurt right now, Chuck ol’ boy,” agreed Duncan, slapping Walter firmly on the opposite arm with a laugh. Reaching for a clipboard hanging on the wall next to the employee lockers, he glanced over the roster and accompanying schedules. Scratching under his safety helmet, he looked for the name Charles Millburg. “It looks like you got your wires crossed Chuck. I don’t have you on the schedule this week.”

  Wondering how he had forgotten something so simple as to sign up for work duty, Niclas easily covered the oversight. “Oh I know, but I promised I would show Walter how the pumps worked today. You know how he can be when he gets an idea in his head.” He walked over to a half-sized locker and set his duffle bag inside.

  “Ha, do I ever! Last time all the boy wanted to talk about was that stray cat that wanders around the parking lot from time to time,” he guffawed. “I was getting a bit lonely here anyway, and we don’t get many requests for guided tours around here.” Duncan nodded happily at Walter. “Your timing is perfect, too. The five-year maintenance cycle was completed this morning and I’m just about to start refilling the reservoir.” He motioned merrily over his shoulder with the clipboard before hanging it up again.

  “
We’re on schedule, then?” asked Niclas calmly, feigning only mild interest.

  “For once!” laughed Duncan. Playfully, he poked Walter in the ribs with his index finger. Being incredibly ticklish, the large man jumped away and laughed, holding out one massive hand to keep Duncan at bay.

  Niclas placed the cooler at the bottom of his locker but didn’t take his hand off the handle.

  “Would you mind explaining a few things to our young friend while I sign in and situate my belongings?” Discreetly, he attempted to draw attention away from his activities.

  “It’d be my pleasure, Chuckles” responded Duncan unsuspectingly. He steered Walter over to a wall panel that he knew the young man had seen several times. Today, however, it was covered in blinking lights and analog readouts that were rarely active all at once.

  Amazed, Walter’s mouth fell open. “It’s like Christmas!” he said excitedly, looking joyfully at the cacophony of colors.

  Scratching his reddish beard like a Scottish Santa Claus, Duncan chuckled and pointed at the display. “This panel is the secondary monitoring station for the primary water pump. With the 150 horsepower pump running at full capacity, it pushes more than 2,000 gallons per minute into the two-million-gallon reservoir,” he boasted as if thinking up the design himself.

  “That’s a lot of water, sir!” said Walter, wide-eyed.

  “It sure is, big guy,” nodded Duncan, finding the young man’s wonderment infectious. “We treat the water with a small amount of chlorine, fluoride, and other chemicals which are meant to make the water safe to drink before it goes to people’s homes and businesses.” Squinting at one of the readouts, he realized that the process was ahead of schedule. “Looks like it’s about time to add the chlorine drip canister to the tank in the pump house.”

  Pointing at himself in the chest, Walter tilted his head. “Can I come?” he asked, appearing to do his best impression of a puppy begging to go for a walk.

  Despite it being against protocol, Duncan could see no harm in granting the request. “You bet, laddie! Just let me grab my keys to the chemical shed and we’ll step outside,” he agreed, pulling a set of keys from a deep side pocket of his well-worn coveralls. Without warning, Walter grabbed him from behind in a tight bear hug, forcing the air from his lungs in a loud huff. “What are you doing, kid?” wheezed Duncan, his voice barely a whisper.

  With a damp cloth in his hand, Niclas stepped quickly to stand in front of them. “I’m sorry, my friend. I promise you won’t be hurt.” He held the rag, wet with chloroform, over the man’s nose and mouth.

  Duncan’s eyes remained wide with surprise as he fought hopelessly against the sheer brute strength holding him in place.

  Holding the soaked cloth over the panicked man’s face for what should have been ample time for the chemical to take effect, Niclas became perplexed as the why the man’s shocked expression had not changed.

  “Loosen your hold a bit, Walter,” directed Niclas, realizing why the man had remained unaffected. As soon as Walter’s anaconda-like grip loosened from around the man’s midsection, Duncan reflexively inhaled deeply and immediately fell unconscious. “Put him down gently and we’ll get started,” he instructed. He reached into his duffle bag, pulled out a couple lengths of rope and quickly bound the incapacitated man’s hands and feet. Standing up slowly, he cleared off a small section of countertop and placed the duffle bag down gently. Reaching inside, he removed a metal canister similar to the one Duncan had intended to retrieve from the chemical stockpile. The shiny canister was about twice the height and circumference of a soda can. Although this container appeared identical to those holding chlorine, this one was currently filled with purified water. “Please bring me the cooler, Walter,” he requested, pointing toward the locker where he had left it.

  Gathering up the cooler, Walter cradled it under his arm as if holding a football, and brought it safely over to the countertop while Niclas stretched on a pair of surgical gloves.

  Pressing the release button on the cooler’s handle Niclas opened it with care. White mist spilled from inside as dry, cool air met the more humid warmth of the room. Reaching slowly inside, he took gentle hold of the test tube marked ‘Gudrune’ and lifted it gently from its roost. He felt it only fitting that the first step in the process be dedicated to his father’s sacrifice. Taking a fifty-milliliter glass syringe from inside the duffle bag, he screwed a medium-gauge hypodermic needle to the end. Carefully pushing the needle through the rubber stopper, he immersed it into the deceptively clear fluid and pulled back on the plunger. His hands shook slightly, age having gradually taken the steady hands he once knew as a young scientist. With the syringe filled, he picked up the metal canister and slowly injected the fluid into it through a small rubber gasket in the cap. “Welcome home, Father,” he whispered, placing the empty syringe on the countertop. He held the polished canister up to the light. He imagined that he held some small part of Gudrune’s essence in his hand—hoping to give some meaning to an otherwise senseless loss.

  “Who’s going home?” asked Walter, watching the procedure intently from a few feet away.

  Setting the canister gingerly on the counter, Niclas turned to face his faithful friend. “We’ve talked about this, Walter,” he explained softly. “I’ll look for a new place for us to stay, but you have to return to the center for the time being,” he said decisively. He found it difficult to look Walter in the eye each time they had this particular discussion. He wasn’t sure if his aversion was caused by the tender man’s sad face or the possibility that the promise of a reunion may very well end up being false.

  As if attempting the world’s worst Elvis impersonation, Walter’s upper lip curled in revulsion. “But I don’t like it at the center. I don’t have any friends there.” He slowly raised his arm and pointed somberly at his aging mentor. “You’re the only one I got. The only one I need.”

  Taking a deep breath, Niclas held it for a few moments in an effort to keep his composure. Although he always appreciated Walter as a fine, loyal companion, it never truly dawned on him until now that the man was also his only true friend. Since Dieter’s murder, he had kept everyone at arm’s length. He had been able to pass himself off for decades as a quiet, highly private person who never caused waves and did well when simply left to manage himself. However, the young, unassuming man before him managed to walk right through those defenses like a giant through a single thread of spider’s silk. Niclas breathed out heavily and choked back the lump in his throat. “You live in a perfectly nice facility, Walter, far better than that dusty old cellar I’ve been staying in,” he said, surprised at the sadness he felt at the thought of never being able to return there. “Besides, I told you before that you need to learn to take care of yourself. I won’t be around forever,” he said quickly, trying to avoid the painful subject. He turned his attention to placing the canister into the cooler, then closed the cooler tightly.

  The mention of his mentor’s inevitable departure turned Walter’s lower lip into a quivering mass. “I…I promise I’ll stop calling you sir, sir,” he stammered.

  Niclas couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the sullen man staring pitifully down at him. “It’s hard to believe that it was already three years ago that we were brought together, Walter,” he said, smiling and shaking his head fondly. “Do you recall what I said when the social worker asked if I would watch over you at work?”

  Changing instantaneously from extreme sadness to unbridled joy at the recollection of their first meeting, Walter’s blue eyes opened wide. “Yes, sir! I remember you said that I would be good company and that you had lots of jobs for me to do! That’s what you said about me.” He smiled proudly, placing his hands on his hips and rocking forward and back on the balls of his feet.

  Nodding, Niclas was impressed with the young man’s resiliency and ability to live life moment-by-moment. “That’s exactly right, my boy,” nodded Niclas. The social worker had explained that a traumatic brain injury at the
age of nine had stunted his cognitive growth. Niclas often wondered if the tragic injury had somehow preserved the innocence and wonder that most people lose as they become weighed down by life’s burdens. There were indeed times he envied the clarity of his young friend’s way of looking at things.

  “I also told her that I’d keep you safe and promised to let her know when I planned to move on or retire,” he said slowly, revealing that part of the agreement to Walter for the first time.

  His happy rocking stopped as his expression quickly morphed back toward the other extreme. Though he seemed to have something to say, he didn’t make a sound.

  Lifting his hands, Nicas brought them forward and down as if trying to force an invisible object to the floor. He cleared his throat and smiled in an attempt to stave off his large companion’s impending mood swing. “She just wanted to be sure that you were at the assisted living facility on those days when I might be out looking for another job or place to stay,” he said, trying to convince even himself that the words were true.

  Confused, Walter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows innocently. “But, you always take care of me and I take care of you, always,” he said simply, referencing an indisputable law of nature.

  Rubbing the back of his neck to relieve the soreness from looking up at his towering friend, Niclas closed his eyes in contemplation. He could not deny that Walter’s summation was correct. Their relationship had become symbiotic over time. Lives inextricably entwined by the simple fact that each genuinely cared about the other’s well-being. Walter possessed more of what is good about humanity than anyone he had ever known, but also served as a reminder of exactly why he must follow through with his plan. The practice of downgrading one group of individuals so that another may feel superior must come to an abrupt end.

  Unwilling to upset Walter further, Niclas turned away from the young man and retrieved his watch from his shirt pocket. “It’s time we moved on, Walter,” he said, motioning to the door leading to the pump house. “Please open the door for me. I’ll show you how they start the pumps and get the chlorine into the water.” Smiling, he glossed over the conversation and turned to focus on the task at hand.