The Deep Beneath

by Natalie Wright

  “Which one of them is Jack?”

  Erika pointed to Jack. His color was good, not pale. The bloodstains on his shirt were the only indication he’d been shot. Though Jack seemed fine, Erika worried that the bullet lodged in his shoulder would cause a festering infection. “He was shot. In the desert, before we met … before we got picked up.”

  “Shot by one of our guys?”

  “No. It was before you all showed up.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry ’bout –”

  The soldier that had been giving Erika instructions on how to walk while blindfolded cut him off. “We need to tell Commander Sturgis ’bout it. You don’t need to worry about it,” he said to Erika.

  “Don’t worry, Erika. I’m okay,” said Jack.

  “No, you’re not. Tex, I mean H.A.L.F. 9, healed him as best as he could. But he said there’s still a bullet in his shoulder and he needs medical attention. We were on the way to the hospital when he forced us to drive him to Sedona.”

  The guards didn’t say anything but looked at each other. Their faces seemed to soften a bit, but none of them reassured her. The gun nudged at her back again, a less than subtle hint to get herself into the waiting cell.

  Erika walked forward but called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, guys. We’ll be okay.” She hoped her voice sounded more convincing than it felt.

  “And you don’t worry about us,” said Ian.

  “I love you,” Jack called out. But before Erika had a chance to respond, the heavy steel windowless door closed behind her.

  Only a week before, Jack had said those same words and angered Erika. As she stared at the cold metal separating her from Jack, and after the long night of facing death, it was hard to recall why she had become angry at him for loving her. She was not ready to allow herself to fall in love with Jack Wilson, but the strange night from hell had shown her that maybe someday she could. If I ever see him again.

  “Jack! Ian!” she screamed.

  There was no answer. At least not one she could hear. The world outside of the roughly six-by-ten-foot cell was closed off to her.

  Erika stood just inside the door. If she jumped, she may have been able to make it to the other side of the room. It held nothing but a single cot with a pillow and blanket and a urinal. Peeing should be interesting. Being underground, there were no windows to let in natural light. The floor, ceiling and walls were the same dull, grey concrete as the corridor outside her cell had been. There was only a single wire-mesh-wrapped bulb overhead with no apparent on/off switch in the room.

  Erika walked a few feet into the center of the room and panic engulfed her. It was a rare emotion for her. She’d felt fear before. Out in the desert when Joe had her in his grip and she thought for sure that Jack and Ian would be killed. And when Commander Sturgis appeared and gave the order that they be terminated. And in the past, she had been afraid when her dad died and she was left to take care of not only herself but also her alcoholic mom, Tina.

  She hadn’t panicked in any of those situations. Instead she’d pushed the fear out of the way and pressed onward. It was what her dad would have expected of her. Erika had always walked forward in life, one foot in front of the other, confronting head-on any situation and finding her way out of the bad ones. She was not one to feel helpless.

  But when the steel door closed behind her, Erika felt helpless.

  The cell was a cold, clammy tomb. But despite the chill, Erika’s body was covered in the slick moisture of her sweat. Her heart thumped away in her chest. It was so quiet she could hear the rush of blood in her ears.

  Alone, underground and with no way out, terror seized her. Just moments before she had been so tired she could have fallen asleep while standing. Now her eyes were wide with fright. She felt wired like she’d been given a drug. I’ll never sleep again.

  There was nothing else to do but lay on the cot. When she closed her eyes, she saw images of men wielding guns at her. She’d begin to doze off, but her overactive mind would startle her awake as soon as she dreamed.

  Eventually exhaustion won out over fear, and despite the hard, dusty cot, she slept for a while. In that moment of twilight sleep just before fully waking, she dreamed of a strange guy with huge black eyes. He stared at her, and it felt like he could see into her soul. But when she awoke, that dream mixed with the reality that she’d lived, and she was unsure what was real. Erika lay with her eyes closed. I’ll open my eyes and I’ll be back in my room. But when her eyes fluttered open, she stared up at a single light bulb mounted in a concrete ceiling.

  There was no way for Erika to reckon time. She didn’t know if she had slept for an hour or ten. I hope they terminate me before I lose my mind.

  As soon as she had the thought, she tried to put it from her mind. Her father had said, “Be careful what you pray for, little darlin’, cause God’s a pretty literal fella.” She had longed for a way to escape her life in dusty, hot, going-nowhere-fast Ajo, but she had no death wish.

  The solitary part of her confinement would not be much of a problem. Since her dad died five years ago, Erika had lived largely alone. When her mom had a job, she was at work. When unemployed, which was the norm, she’d hit the bars with friends or stay home and drink until she passed out. Tina had been drinking at home the night before and was likely sleeping off her bender off. She probably hadn’t even noticed Erika was missing.

  Alone was not a big issue. Confinement was.

  And lack of light was a bigger drawback still. Erika had been born and raised in southern Arizona, a world of abundant sunshine. She’d grown accustomed to plentiful light and wide-open spaces. If she had been stranded on a sunny desert island by herself, she would have wagered her last dime that she’d survive it. But thrust into a sunless, concrete dungeon, Erika thought death would be a welcome alternative to a lengthy stay at Casa Sturgis.

  I’ve gotta do something to keep myself from going bat-shit crazy down here. Erika forced herself up from the hard cot. She circled her arms and slapped them against her back to wake herself up. Don’t give up. It was her father’s voice more than her own.

  Erika inspected the ceiling for a way out. But there was no conduit save for the thin metal one that housed the wire to the single light. She walked the perimeter of the small room, searching the walls and floor for cracks that she may be able to chip away at with her nails if she had to. The concrete was smooth and solid, though. She yanked on the urinal, holding her face away from it to shield her nose from the smell. She grunted out loud from the exertion. Erika’s sweaty hands slipped off of the smooth porcelain, and she fell onto her backside. The toilet hadn’t budged.

  Erika sat on the cold, dusty floor and caught her breath. Her prison cell was airtight. There would be no escape.

  A renewed surge of helplessness filled Erika, bringing hot tears to her eyes. Her cheeks were wet, and she let out a scream of frustration though she was fairly certain no one could hear her. Erika pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them, her head resting on her knees. Tears poured out along with loud hiccups and sobs. She wiped her face, and as she pulled her hand away, she saw it.

  The compass. It had been a while since Erika had paid it much attention. In the dim light of the concrete room, she stared at her palm, taking in each line of the ink drawing that was a replica of the compass her dad had given her.

  It was the last time they’d gone target shooting together at the abandoned open-pit mine. Her dad had been teaching her how to shoot a gun since she was ten, and at twelve, she was finally old enough not to need his help. He was a quiet but attentive man. Erika usually did most of the talking. But that day he’d seemed like he was somewhere else. When she asked him if something was wrong, he tugged at the bill of the ball cap keeping the sun out of her eyes, smiled and said, “Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just proud of my baby.” He looked at her then, really looked. His eyes were intense and his face solemn. “You’re gonna fly out of this place someday, Erika. You’re too big to
stay small.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small compass on a cheap chain. It looked like something he’d gotten out of a box of sweet popcorn snack. Her dad placed it in her hand. “Just remember how to find your way home again. Promise?”

  Erika had promised though at the time she hadn’t imagined she’d ever leave him or the small dusty town where she’d always lived. And of course, she hadn’t imagined that a few weeks later, she’d be at his funeral.

  Erika closed her left hand into a fist, encircling the compass inked on her palm. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped her face with her shirt. Her dad hadn’t raised her to be a quitter.

  She turned facedown on the dusty floor and forced herself to do push-ups. When her arms were wobbly and she felt as though they’d give out, she got up and ran in place. When her legs got shaky, she dropped to the floor again and forced herself to push up and down. She had no plan for how she’d escape what she assumed was either a life of confinement or death, but sleeping on a lumpy cot and crying wouldn’t help anything. Being strong would.

  Erika thought of smacking the smirk off of Commander Sturgis’ face and smiled to herself as sweat dripped from her brow.

  17

  MADE TO BE BROKEN

  Commander Sturgis disliked punishing 9. She doubted he would ever believe that. His eyes had a hint of a blue iris unlike Alecto’s much darker, more fathomless eyes. And when she had held him, she saw nothing but hatred for her in those saucer-shaped eyes. She may be able to dampen his spirit and force him into submission. But he would never love her. Sturgis was sad at the thought but only for a moment. Everything she had worked for was at risk. She had no time to wallow in angst, so she forced the feelings away. She heard her mother’s voice in her mind. “Stop crying, Lilly. You’re a Sturgis. It’s time you act like one.”

  The commander had no plan as to how to convince the Makers to keep the H.A.L.F. project going, but she was certain that valuable and compliant H.A.L.F.s were required. I had to teach him a lesson he will not soon forget.

  She had commanded Sergeant Newcomb to carry H.A.L.F. 9 to Dr. Dolan’s office for evaluation and treatment. She didn’t trust Dolan any more than she trusted Sewell (or anyone else, for that matter). Dolan was the person most likely to have been 9’s accomplice in his escape. But she had no choice. Since Dr. Randall was gone, Dolan was the last medical doctor on staff.

  Sturgis used her keycard and thumbprint to open the door to her office in Alpha quadrant. It was fairly small and unassuming. A large, grey military-issue desk. Two infrequently used burgundy-colored pleather chairs across from her desk. Her orchid was the only bit of warmth or life in the otherwise cold and dreary office. She stopped, spritzed it with water and went to her desk.

  The cleanup in the desert meant a mountain of paperwork. A huge waste of time. It will just be shredded eventually anyway. But it had to be done. And Lilly Sturgis excelled at doing what needed to be done.

  If it weren’t for a faulty heart valve, Lilly would have been an astronaut rather than a geneticist laboring on an unknown project in an unheard of facility. She would likely have been the first U.S. female to go to space. Sally Ride got that honor while Lilly ended up with a life underground.

  But the assignment did not dampen her quest for a place of honor in the history books. If anything, it strengthened her resolve to prove herself.

  As Commander Sturgis waded through the paperwork on her desk, she thought, What to do with my teenaged guests?

  They had to be terminated, that much she knew. It would be fairly easy to create a convincing cover story. Three teens in the desert at night, less than ten miles from the Mexican border. With the amount of drug and human trafficking going on in the area, the press and families of the kids would devour clues that led to a kidnapping and hustle across the border.

  But her butt was already in a sling with General Bardsley. After the mishap with 9, she had little chance of convincing the Makers to keep her program alive. If they found out that she’d offed three teenagers … it was a delicate situation, to be sure.

  And she had to find a way to win 9’s trust. She could force his obedience with sedation. But a sleepy hybrid drooling on his pillow was of no use to the Makers and thus of no use to her.

  The three teens may be of some use to her after all. Perhaps I can use them to win 9’s trust. She’d have her people plant evidence of their disappearance. The authorities would chase their tails into Mexico and away from the truth while the families busied themselves putting up ‘Have You Seen Me?’ posters rather than stop to sniff the evidence. They can stay in the holding tank a few days while I take care of cleanup and consider how to handle it.

  Sturgis had just begun reading over a second stack of papers when Sewell buzzed her on the intercom. She had been so deep in thought that the unexpected sound made her jump.

  “Yes, Sewell, what is it?” She did not bother to hide the irritation in her voice.

  “First of all, congratulations, Commander, for bringing 9 home safely.”

  Commander Sturgis ignored Sewell’s attempt at niceties. She had little time and no patience for his courtesies. “Get to the point, Sewell.”

  “Yes, ma’am. One of the officers radioed that one of the kids they picked up, the one named Jack, had been shot and needs medical attention.”

  She had been only half listening as she often did when Sewell spoke, but now he had her attention. “One of my men shot him?” Sturgis’ anger flashed hot at the thought of a soldier using deadly force without her authorization.

  “No, ma’am, at least not according to the officer that radioed. He said the boy got shot before you showed up out there in the desert. Says that 9 apparently did some healing work on him, but allegedly he still has a bullet in him.”

  Sturgis pondered the information but not because of her concern for the teenager. If he died of an infection, it was one less headache for her. No, it was the part about H.A.L.F. 9 healing him that caught her ear. They had seen signs of 9’s ability to heal himself when he was a young boy, but during the long period of sedation, they were unable to fully test and confirm it. She had hoped he could heal others but until now had no evidence of it.

  “You want me to have them take the young man to Dr. Dolan for treatment?”

  Why waste medical treatment on someone who will be terminated? But H.A.L.F. 9 was with Dr. Dolan. If she had the boy taken there, H.A.L.F. 9 would see it. It was a chance to show him a sign of good faith and perhaps win his loyalty.

  “Commander? You want me to radio ops back and tell them to put the guy in the cell like the others.”

  “No. Tell ops to take him to Dr. Dolan, as you suggested.”

  “All right, Commander,” Sewell stammered.

  Commander Sturgis hit the button making the light to Sewell’s extension go dark. If only it were so easy to extinguish all problems that plagued her.

  Sturgis opened her desk drawer and retrieved the thumb drive General Bardsley had given her. She stared at the bit of plastic as if staring at it could make it disappear. What am I going to do about this? The adrenaline high of the evening had worn off, and Lilly Sturgis was as tired as she’d ever been. If I sit for much longer, I may not wake up for a week. She did not have time for sleep. Not yet.

  H.A.L.F. 9 was home and the disasters of the night had been contained. But she held in her hand a much larger calamity, and she knew that she would be alone in finding a solution. Dr. Randall was gone. Dr. Dolan was merely a physician, not adept at the politics of the food chain that tangled itself all the way to the Makers. And she had trusted Sewell with too much for too long. But no more.

  The problem of how to protect her H.A.L.F.s and keep the program alive would have to wait. First she had to consider how best to take care of the three new complications that had arrived.

  I’m sorry, H.A.L.F. 9. Some promises are made to be broken.

  18

  DRYING OUT

  Tex was lifted from Commander Sturgis, but he di
d not know who raised him. His head bounced gently on someone’s arm. The swaying motion of being carried lulled him, and he drifted off to sleep, not knowing if he would awake again.

  Warmth. Heat against his face. The heat felt like … like something once unknown but now familiar. It felt like … the sun.

  Am I? How could I be? He had been somewhere cold and wet. He was drowning. He’d fallen down, down, down to a place where only darkness dwelled.

  But the sensation of heat on his skin pulled him up and out of the black. He blinked his eyes open, hoping against hope that somehow while he had been in a place without dreams that his alien cousins had retrieved him.

  A bright, white light assaulted his eyes from overhead. It hurt, so he closed his eyes. He opened them again, but this time only part of the way, using his large eyelids to shield his eyes from the intense illumination.

  The light above him was an engineered light source, not the sun. He blinked his eyes a few more times and his surroundings came into focus.

  He was not outside with a star called the sun over his head. Nor was he in an alien ship or on a distant planet. Tex was in Dr. Dolan’s medical suite at A.H.D.N.A. He lay on an all-too-familiar examination table in an all-too-familiar room being stared at by an all-too-familiar face. He wanted to sink down again to the deep void so that he could forget that he was back in his prison home.

  “I feared that I may lose you,” Dr. Dolan said. His small, dark eyes stared down at Tex from behind glasses so thick they distorted Dolan’s eyes and made them look like small slits in his face. Dolan smiled at him with thin lips under a bushy black mustache peppered with grey. Tex thought Dolan’s mustache could use a good trim. His smile quickly faded. “Damned fool. She nearly killed you.”

  A part of Tex wanted to remind Dr. Dolan to speak quietly if he was to speak ill of Commander Sturgis. As Dr. Randall once said, ‘The walls of A.H.D.N.A. have ears.’ But he was too disheartened by being back at A.H.D.N.A. to care what happened to Dr. Dolan. He did not want to look into the doctor’s face, so he shut his eyes.