Preternaturals: A Superhero Thriller

by Allen Kensington

  Chapter Nine

  Jack returned to the project’s facility the following morning, finding Sybil already being encased within the machine. He watched as the startup procedure was reenacted before him. Sensor pads were affixed to her body, wires attached, and the cold, steel sleeve slid into place over her. It had happened so quickly, he hadn’t even been able to bid her a good morning.

  Instead, he studied the staff with a careful eye. They seemed relaxed, no doubt bolstered by the early success. They moved with greater confidence, more purpose and flow guiding their actions. The previous day’s anxiety had dissipated, and the sequence was completed in half the time.

  Waiting, he looked over the list of names and addresses that had been gathered the day before. These were preternaturals, the people he had hoped to find. His planned team had been a dream for a long time, and he now held a list of the first potential members. It was the culmination of a long-rendered plan and the correction of a long-regretted mistake. His mind drifted again into the decades-old memory.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?”

  Captain Valour stood, the unconscious body of his archrival slumped over his shoulder. He stared at the doorway, weighing the decision one last time. He was tired, having fought evil for many years now. It was time to end it all.

  Phillip waited beside him, expecting an answer to his inquiry.

  “It’s for the best. You know that,” Captain Valour replied. He sounded every bit as brave and honest as he ever had.

  Phillip nodded and went inside. After a moment, the Captain followed, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold. Before him, a huge vat of frothing ooze waited, the boiling luminescence lighting all but the darkest alcoves of the pipe-tangled room. Machinery hung overhead and reached down the walls, a twisted mass of circuitry and rusted piping. Two men in radiation suits labored at the panels, trying to maintain the conditions needed for optimal efficiency. One walked toward them.

  “It’s as ready as it will ever be,” the doctor said, his voice muffled by a gas mask and the frothing of the modernized cauldron.

  “So am I,” Captain Valour replied. He walked over to a pair of titanium stretchers jutting beside the glowing soup, and placed the unconscious form of Dr. Malorius into one of them. As soon as the villain’s body hit the cold slab, titanium tentacles shot around it, holding it in place. Even for someone with super strength, escape was impossible. In any case, they didn’t have to hold for long.

  Valour stepped toward his own stretcher. After tonight, it’ll be over, he thought. He felt no remorse, only peace, pure and final. He positioned himself onto the apparatus, the polished gleam of metal tentacles encircling him as well. They tightened against his taut muscles.

  He glanced to his former rival, then back to Phillip. It’ll finally be over.

  “I’m ready, Doctor,” he said in a commanding voice. The scientist pulled a lever, and gears started to grind away, raising both platforms. They hit a predetermined height and glided through the air over the cauldron’s lip, then gears shifted, and they stopped again as they reached its center. With another jolt, the stretchers were lowered into the vat.

  As the liquid began to close in around him, Jack took one last breath and shut his eyes. No turning back now.

  Malorius awoke a split second before being immersed. He struggled, trying to break free, but it was too late. His bindings were secure. Both the hero and his nemesis were plunged into the churning ooze. The villain tried to scream, but instead of air, his lungs filled with the strange, opalescent fluid.

  Jack closed his eyes and felt the hot liquid surround him. It was thicker than water, like a boiling tar that seemed to eat away at the very core of his being. He held his breath, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. His chest heaved as it tried to pull in air, but his mouth stayed closed. Involuntary spasms racked him, and when he could take no more, his body forced an inhalation. Drawing a long draught of liquid through his noise, his chest began to feel strange and uncomfortable. He tried to breathe again, pulling more of the sludge into his lungs.

  After long minutes, the machinery reactivated, lifting the platforms. Jack thrashed as he felt the liquid part across his body, ascending out of the pool. His nose broke the surface, and he huff the sweet air. A mouthful of green rose from his lungs.

  Looked over to Malorius, he saw the man lying naked and unconscious, his costume eaten away by the radioactive bath. As Jack looked across his own body, he realized the same had happened to him. Coughing and spewing, he lay back as the mechanism hit its elevation and returned along its original path. The stretchers stopped at the edge of the vat, and pulled to a vertical position. The bindings retracted, and Jack slumped to the cold, asphalt floor. He vomited the glowing ooze.

  When he could speak, three words found his lips. “Did it work?”

  “The readings look good,” one of the scientists called down from the control panel. Another walked toward him. “Congratulations, Mr. Williams. You’re normal.”

  Jack smiled, green vomit dripping from the corner of his mouth. It was true. He felt different. He eased himself to all fours, his limbs wobbling. Even gravity seemed to pull upon him as never before.

  Phillip appeared by his side. “I’ll help you, sir,” he said, offering an arm.

  It had been long years since Jack had needed the aid of another man. He took the offered hand, relying upon it more than he would have liked. Upon gaining his feet, another mouthful of liquid ejected itself from his insides. Jack’s body drooped again, but Phillip’s aid held firm.

  In the middle of this silent reverie, the lab door swung open, drawing all eyes toward it. A crowd of armed soldiers burst inward, taking a quick and efficient control over the room. Its five original inhabitants did nothing, either too weak or too surprised to put up any resistance. The two scientists were handcuffed and dragged away, and Malorius soon followed.

  Jack and Phillip were left alone in the commotion.

  “What are you doing?” Jack demanded. He tried to stand on his own, but fell against Phillip’s stabilizing arm.

  The leader of the intruders, a man in a black suit and hat, stepped through the sea of combat fatigues and toward the weakened hero. “Thank you for your service, Captain,” he said with a smile. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Others passed them, carrying the open ends of long hoses. They dipped each into the pool, siphoning the vat clean of radioactive slime. Soon, no traces of the experiment existed, only an empty room looking much like a plumber’s paradise.

  “No,” Jack gasped. “You can’t.”

  The man paid him little mind, supervising the extraction of glowing fluid. “These powers are far too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands. If the Russians caught wind of this technology, there would be no stopping them.” The man removed his hat, attempting to soften his tone. It didn’t work. “Don’t worry. This is the Government’s problem now.” He turned to his men, pointing to Jack and Phillip. “See that they get home.”

  “Yes, Agent Timm,” the soldiers responded. They moved to help Jack to his feet, but Phillip brushed them aside, draping his employer’s arm across the back of his neck. Together, they were ushered to the door, down the elevator, and into the waiting limousine. Jack collapsed into the back, struggling to remain conscious, and wondering how G-men had known. For the first time, he saw the potential of the mistake that he had made. It was the first of many regrets.

  Phillip took the driver’s seat of the car, adjusting the mirror as they pulled away. The images of military men shrank in his rear view.

  “Are you ready, Senator?”

  A different doctor stood over him now, awaiting a reply. A vague concern radiated from the man until Jack nodded, dispelling his memories.

  “Yes, Doctor. Let’s get this done.”

  Both he and Romita walked to the control station, its monitors already lit with activity. The doctor sat, clicking on the microphone before him. He spoke into i
t with a controlled and soothing tone. “Miss Sybil. We’re ready to begin.”

  The power station hummed up to speed, going from a low drone to a high-pitched whine. At its apex, the gyroscope started to spin. Three metal circles crossed over and within one another, the instrumentation on each blinking to life. Their furious motion drew blurred neon shapes in their wake. The field generator was ready.

  Next came the water. The pod’s hoses shook with sudden pressure as pumps started. The sound of rushing liquid filled the room as they pumped over a hundred gallons of warmed bathwater into Sybil’s chamber. The process took three minutes.

  Jack waited, his hands resting upon the back of the doctor’s chair. He watched the screens, looking for any sign of trouble. Her vital signs appeared fine, the machinery was starting, and the world was beginning to come into the scanner’s range. He studied the images coming from the tube’s internal camera. Sybil seemed calm.

  A circle appeared on the far left screen, indicating the locator’s distance and progress. So far, it remained small. The doctor punched in a few more keystrokes, and the screen blinked, tracking the first sensory wave. The little circle grew, expanding its diameter over the city. So far, no new dots appeared.

  Dr. Romita turned to Jack. “We’ve recalibrated to exclude those we scanned yesterday. She’ll be examining new identities only.” He waited for some sort of response, but Jack said nothing. After a moment, he returned to the three screens before him. The second day’s search was underway.

  Another expansion found a new recruit. A glowing dot appeared as the emergent circle passed over it. A window on the screen started to flutter and change, running through lists and data sets. Before long, a printed address appeared, then a driver’s license photo.

  “Keep it going,” Jack instructed. “I want to find them all.” He watched the distance and population count grow. As it did, another dot sprung into existence, then another.

  Jack walked across the room and sat back in one of the waiting chairs. A heavy sigh escaped him. He closed his eyes and rubbed a thick hand over his face, wishing for a drink. Quiet beeps continued to sound, marking the identification of more empowered humans. He looked up, watching the screens from across the room.

  The number of scanned individuals increased at a steady pace. The machine fed hundreds to Sybil, who was sorting them with as much speed as she could muster. The process was moving at a good clip now. The computer was eliminating those who were of no interest, and more names appeared on the suspect list.

  So many names. Jack had not expected the extent of preternatural empowerment. His best estimates had been far too low. Instead of a handful of individuals, a vast crowd was being cataloged. He would have to alter his plans.

  The boundary circle expanded again.

  Jack had almost ignored the sounds coming from the doctor’s station, but a sudden change caught his attention. Where once a tone had been short and rhythmic, it now sounded frantic and unsteady. It accompanied a shift in the onscreen graph indicating Sybil’s vital signs. The erratic lines jumped and crashed.

  He looked to the feed coming from the tube’s internal camera. Sybil’s eyes rolled back into her head, and foam slipped from her tongue. She began to convulse, her body twisting and leaping with involuntary spasms. A choked gagging escaped her throat.

  “Shut it down. Shut it down!” Jack shouted, angry in his concern. He leapt up, running to the control panel.

  The doctor’s fingers blurred as he initiated the necessary commands. The machine-driven whine faded and disappeared. He too rose, running to the capsule. Opening the chamber, he prepared for whatever emergency procedures were necessary.

  The flock of technicians returned, filling the room again with bustle. They surrounded Sybil, the doctor shouting commands to coordinate their activity.

  Jack worried that it was already too late. A long, constant tone emanated from the computer, indicating her lack of pulse. Unknown caring filled his mind.

  This girl was his best hope. Without her, the entire project could yet fail, stalled in its infancy. The subcommittee would move on, and all of Jack’s work and money would have been wasted.

  He felt more than that however, he had grown to care about Sybil with genuine affection. His time with the young women had enriched his life, allowing him a bond that he had never enjoyed. The possibility of her loss filled him with dread.

  Jack felt helpless as he looked upon the body of his adopted daughter. He turned away as the physician charged the defibrillator’s pads and applied them to her skin. He closed his eyes, listening to the loud thunk as her body jerked with their sudden voltage.

  Chapter Ten

  When David arrived at the SkyRise hangar, the General’s office was as smoky as it had been twenty-four hours earlier, a testament to the man’s favorite vice. Ushered inside, the Lieutenant sat again in front of the desk, but declined the offered cigar. His thoughts had not yet come together, and time had run out. The moment of his decision was at hand.

  Sybil’s pleas had not gone unheard. The woman had been very convincing last night, and while her words did not hold full sway over David, her apparent conviction was contagious. The assignment had possibility, and any success would add an undoubted boost to his career. If he could deal with the possible risks, the rewards seemed imminent and worthwhile.

  The General looked at him, still listening to someone on the telephone. He was sizing David up, trying to ascertain the answer to the question posed the day before. He had little luck however, mostly because David didn’t know the answer himself. For minutes, they just sat opposite one another, locked in a silence forced by the man on the other line, no doubt hundreds of miles away.

  David thought further, paging through the project’s dossier. The offer did guarantee his separation from the preternaturals. His assignment was to lead the team, but he would always remain a military man, if in secret. He would have the option for escape that he needed, and could turn his back at any time, leaving the others to their fates. His affiliation would be temporary, and he would be safe. The thought comforted him more than any other.

  The General’s disgruntled face cleared into relief, and he said his goodbyes, hanging up the phone. He leaned back in his chair, and a small sigh escaped him. “Well, David? I can tell you’ve thought this over. What’s it going to be?”

  This was it, his time to answer. David’s mind had flip-flopped all morning, reeling from last night’s encounter. Over breakfast, he had decided to do it. On the drive here, against it. Now, the question had been asked.

  He searched his mind, found an answer, and latched on. “I’ll do it, sir.”

  The General smiled, nodding in appreciation. He took a few short puffs from his cigar, then got down to business. “Good. This assignment is critical to researching and controlling the preternaturals, and there are a few additional parameters that I want you to follow.” As he continued, the older man straightened himself, resting his hands on the desk. He held both together, fingers interlocked.

  “A lot of people have their eyes on this, David. Officially, this is not a military operation, and you will be the only member with a service record, at least in the beginning. It will be your duty, in addition to performing the tasks they assign you, to report back to me. You’re going to be my eyes and ears on the inside. I need to know about these people. Are they a threat to national security? Are they a possible asset? It will be your responsibility to evaluate them, both individually and as a whole.”

  David nodded. He understood what the General was asking. He had seen this coming, and was ready for it. Throughout the briefing, one thought kept resurfacing in his mind. He would always be separate from the group. He was an informant, not one of the freaks. If it came down to it, he was safe.

  The General spoke to him for another half hour, filling him in on the exact requirements of this new assignment. By the end, David had no questions; there was nothing left to ask. He received a handshake, and after a quic
k salute, left the General to his other business.

  The man was on the telephone again before the door closed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three figures waited in a dank warehouse, yards of unlit space reaching out around them. Billy Moffet, dressed as Nightgaunt, looked to his companions in the uneasy light of the single, hanging bulb. It painted them more with severe shadows than any color, leaving much obscured. Both appeared dangerous.

  He already knew the man facing them, green headlight burning as he stood rigid in his armor. The Aegis had recruited Billy, and even though the two had met, there was no familiarity between them. Billy wasn’t even certain that he was human, and not some distant alien studying them with a single, calculating eye.

  Opposite him slithered Iguanus, silver scales glaring in the stern light. Billy remembered reading about the creature in the newspapers, one of the few publicized preternaturals. He found himself staring at the giant lizard, and a cold, half-expression returned his gaze. Billy looked away, a chill trickling down his spine. Any sign of weakness, and they might turn on him. He swiveled toward a large screen as it flickered to life.

  “Gentlemen.” The projected visage addressed them, spreading his arms to the edges of the monitor in a mock embrace. Billy recognized the man from old pictures. It was Dr. Malorius, the criminal overlord of fifty years past. The costume was accurate, but what little shown of the man’s face seemed far too youthful. Even Billy saw through the guise.

  Iguanus neared the image, leaning into the light. “You’re no Malorius,” he said pointing his triangular head toward the screen. The metallic man-lizard sniffed as he spoke. An accusing glare boiled from pitch black eyes.

  The charlatan repositioned himself, but made no other indications of his thoughts. He placed both hands on the table before him, and pulled up in his chair. “I am as close to Dr. Malorius as need be. His will works through me.”