The Devil's Vial

by Brumbaugh,Byron

  “Contingency planning,” said Emily. “Always plan for contingencies.”

  Soon, they came to a branching of the tunnel. One branch led off at an angle to the left, another to the right. Emily moved straight ahead to some piles of boxes and wove her way among them. There was another tunnel behind the boxes that couldn’t be seen from the tunnel behind. “Over here, Alex.”

  This tunnel was a bit different from the others. Lined with brick instead of poured concrete and cinder block, layers of thick wet green moss attested to an older age. It had no pipes in it and had a muddy, compacted dirt floor. The air was heavy with the musty odor of wet earth.

  “They used this tunnel a long time ago to bring in water from a mill pond that used to be up ahead,” Emily explained. “It ran the machinery before steam and electricity. It’s so old, it’s not on any of the plans of the factory buildings it used to serve.”

  The tunnel wound around, turning randomly this way and that in arcs rather than the sharp corners of the other tunnels. Alex and Emily rounded a corner and the tunnel came to a dead end. Up ahead, Alex could see dim sunlight coming through the wall, but he couldn’t tell how until he was a few feet in front it. The end of the tunnel was blocked by thick brush and light was penetrating through its many leaves and branches. Doug stood, peering through the greenery. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s too light out there. Too exposed. It’s going to be dark soon. Let’s wait for a bit.” He sat down, leaning up against the wall.

  Alex was grateful for the rest and followed suit. “Are we safe here? Won’t they find us?”

  “I think we’re safer here than out there,” said Doug. “At least for right now.”

  “God knows I could use the breather,” said Alex.

  . . .

  “You know,” said Alex, “Todd said Richard and Oscar are in Marlborough. It just occurred to me, it’s only about a twenty or thirty minute drive from here.”

  “Well, we aren’t going to be able to help them any. We’ll be lucky if we get out of this at all,” said Emily.

  “Maybe when we were over Connecticut, we should have turned right and headed up to Montreal or Quebec instead of returning to Worcester,” said Alex.

  “And then what?” said Emily. “If they have the Russians and Chinese with them, they sure as hell will have the Canooks on board too.”

  “We do seem to have exhausted our options,” said Doug. “But I agree with Emily. Let’s get out of here first.” He stood and moved over to the tunnel opening. “It’s been an hour or so, I’m going to take a peek outside.” Their piece of tunnel lit up a bit as Doug moved some branches out of the way to get a better look. “Shit!” he said and flattened himself against the wall of the tunnel, motioning Alex and Emily to do the same. A shot rang out and a thud in the wall opposite the greenery told why Doug wanted them to move.

  “Cease fire!” called out a voice that sounded like Todd, not very far away. “Doug? Is that you? Are Emily and Alex with you?” There was a pause as if he were expecting an answer. “Listen. This is totally unnecessary. If you give yourselves up, you won’t be harmed. We can’t let you escape alive, but you will be safe if you come with us.”

  “Somehow, I don’t find your promises very credible,” answered Doug. He motioned Emily and Alex back down the tunnel. “It seems that every time we meet your people, they’re trying to kill us!” Manhole, mouthed Doug.

  Emily nodded, grabbed Alex’s arm and retreated back the way they came. There still was no sound of pursuit from that direction.

  “You can’t escape. You can’t stop the release of the virus. You can’t change what’s going to happen,” called Todd. “If you get away, you might screw up our plans, make things a little more difficult, and we don’t want you to do that. But you can’t change the ultimate course of events. Give yourselves up now and you’ll be safe. Continue to run and we will use lethal force to stop you.”

  Emily and Alex ran back down the tunnel, around a few bends. They heard a loud explosion and heard Doug call out, “There’s your answer and anyone coming close to this tunnel will feel the force of its promise!”

  Emily paused, looking up at the ceiling. There was a hole leading up a few feet to a round metal plate. Sunlight shined down through holes that pierced the plate. Alex looked around the opening. Iron rungs set in brick led up both sides. He glanced down the tunnel toward its concealed opening as sounds of boxes sliding rolled to his ears. Doug appeared from the opposite direction, motioning them upward with staccato waves of his hands. Alex grabbed a hold of a bottom rung and began climbing. Just below the metal plate, he braced his feet on rungs on opposite sides of the opening and pressed upward with his hands. The plate barely moved.

  “Hurry!” called Emily.

  Alex could hear running steps approaching them. He climbed a little higher and pushed upward with his shoulder jammed under the plate. The plate moved a little more. He pushed with all his strength, using his legs to lift, and at the same time, shoved sideways. The plate rose and moved to the right, leaving a crescent-shaped swath of light.

  Down below, he heard gunshots. “Hurry!” called Doug. “I can’t hold them off for long.” More gunshots.

  Alex put his fingers through the slit he made and shoved as hard as he could. No longer having to support the weight of the plate, he was able to slide the cover free. More commotion from down below, more gunshots. Alex stuck his head up through the opening and looked around. Immediately, a man dressed in black noticed him and called out, “They’re over here!” and brought a pistol down aiming at Alex’s face.

  Alex ducked out of sight as a shot rang out, hitting the manhole cover with a loud clang. More shots below. “This is no good,” he called out to the others.

  “We’re trapped then,” said Doug.

  “This is it,” said Alex. “We have to give up.” He looked down at Doug’s and Emily’s raised faces.

  “Shit!” said Emily.

  “He’s right,” said Doug. Doug threw his pistol down and called out down the tunnel, “Alright, we give up!”

  “Shit!” said Emily again.

  “Don’t shoot!” Alex cried upward through the open manhole. “We give up! We’re coming out.”

  “Damn it!” said Emily. She dropped her pistol.

  “Alright, come out, hands up,” said a voice from above. “No quick moves. Someone get Todd.”

  Alex slowly rose up out of the manhole, his left hand appearing first, as he held on with his right.

  “Let me see both hands.”

  “How?” asked Alex. “I have to hold on or I’ll fall.”

  “Put both your hands on the edge where I can see them and slowly pull yourself up.”

  Alex poked his head out of the hole as he did as he was told. A pistol was held a few feet from him, pointing at his nose.

  “That’s it. Slowly… carefully… that’s right, no sudden moves…”

  Alex climbed the last rung and pulled himself up onto a sidewalk running between factory buildings. He got to his knees, stood and again held his hands high. Soon, other men dressed in black appeared around a corner, then Todd came walking up.

  “Good, good,” said Todd. “Everyone stand down, no more violence.” Behind Todd stood the guy with the do-rag on his head. “Martin, take control here. Keep them safe, but don’t harm them.”

  Emily and then Doug appeared out of the hole.

  Martin walked up, pat-searched each of them and placed plastic wire ties around their wrists. “Hey, watch it, buster!” complained Emily when her turn came for the pat-down.

  Martin smiled at her, and pushed her forward. “That way, bitch,” he said.

  “Martin, tone it down a notch,” said Todd. “Calm down, everybody. We need to talk. It’s all over now. You can trust me.” Emily grunted. Todd turned to Martin. “I need to get back to the lab ASAP and check on things. Take them to Marlborough. Feed them, be nice, but keep them under control until I can meet with them.” He leaned his mout
h in close to Martin’s ear. Alex could just barely make it out, but it seemed Todd said, “Tie up the loose ends.” It didn’t sound good.

  “What about the pilots?” asked Martin.

  “They’re a liability,” said Todd as he moved away. “Just take care of it.”

  Goddamn it, they found them, thought Alex. Fear and regret spread through his mind like napalm on a battlefield as he realized he put those guys in harm’s way. He never considered the possible consequences.

  Martin nodded and waved a pistol past the three of them toward a van pulled up to the curb near where they stood. He turned to a gaunt older man dressed in blue jeans as he pointed the gun back toward Alex. “Thank you, Mr. Everett. Your knowledge of these old buildings served us well. We were very lucky we found you on such short notice when we got here. Again, thank you.”

  “That’s the guy I leased this place from,” whispered Emily to Alex.

  “Just who are these people, and why do you want them?” the old man asked. He seemed unsure of the wisdom of his role in what was happening.

  Martin swung his pistol toward Everett. There was a soft thump as his hand jerked upward. Everett folded in the middle and fell to the ground. “Your services will no longer be required,” Martin said.

  “I guess it doesn’t pay to ask questions,” said Alex.

  “Keep that in mind,” said Martin. Looking to the men in black, he cocked his head toward the man he just killed. “Take care of him,” he told them. Four men moved up and grabbed the body as Martin pushed Emily, Doug, and Alex into the sliding side door of the van. Martin got in after them, pistol at the ready and pointing at them.

  “Is that what you’re going to do to us?” asked Emily as she looked at the body through the still open van door. “Why not just do it here and get it over with?”

  “Make yourselves comfortable. We have a little trip to take,” said Martin as he slid the door shut.

  “Emily, I don’t think we should tempt the man,” said Alex.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Richard sat on a folded blanket on the floor. His legs were crossed in front of him, his spine straight with pelvis tilted slightly forward. It was a natural and relaxed position.

  Staring at nothing roughly five feet straight in front of him, his gaze was loose and unfocused. He breathed in and out normally, noting, but not concentrating on the sensation of breathing - the rise and fall of his chest, the air passing in and out of his nostrils, the stimulating sensation of his blood being oxygenated with each breath. Aware of these sensations, and others, he let them go. Denying them any importance, they got no more than a nodding recognition. Soon, they came no more.

  Any thoughts that came into his awareness, he observed and let go. No value was ascribed, no focus given, no effort made to give them better definition. He simply experienced them and let them go. They became more and more vague until they ceased altogether. Mixed inextricably with the thoughts were emotions. Feelings that had no label in any language he knew. He felt them at a depth of his soul he normally could not touch. Aware of all this as it happened, he let it all go. When he first tried meditation, Richard found this impossible to do. But, over the years, the longer he practiced, it became at first possible, then straightforward. The trick, if there was one, was to learn how to not-try, to not-do.

  After a while, he became simply aware. His mind was not empty, it just did not contain what he usually experienced there - verbal thoughts, judgments, emotional reactions, dreams, fears, plans, images, voices, and even more subtle forms. There was no name for what was left - there could not be. For a name is a label, an idea. And with ideas necessarily come values, emotions and all the rest. All these were gone and he experienced something unnamable, uncapturable by human thought - yet real nonetheless.

  Richard was not measuring time, so he could not tell how long he remained in that state. There was no time. Time, too, was an idea. But, eventually, the world slowly seeped back into his awareness in its usual form, and he began thinking and feeling once more. But now he carried back with him the deeper, more intuitive levels of the human condition; his depth of awareness became more profound. This deepened the extent of his understanding, preconceptual, from what it usually was. However, it did not give him additional answers as to how to deal with the current situation. And it slowly faded with time.

  Rising and putting the blanket back on the bed, he took a deep breath and stretched his legs. Relaxed and natural as the position was, Richard was a westerner and he got stiff when he sat in the meditation posture for long periods of time - even after all his experience. He walked around the room a bit and then moved over to the door. He gave the knob a twist and it opened. Although still a prisoner, he was now allowed the freedom to wander about the subterranean level he occupied.

  Down the hall to the left was a cafeteria/lunch room. He felt like having a cup of tea; they had some really good green tea here. As he walked down the hall, he passed what appeared to be lab technicians. They nodded to him, but did not speak; apparently, they had been instructed not to interact with him.

  There was nothing for him to do but wait for Todd to get back so he could get the information he was promised. If he knew more about what Todd was trying to do, maybe Richard could navigate his way better. He was dying to find out more about Oscar’s condition, too. He wanted to know what was going on with Alex, Emily and Doug as well, but he hoped Todd wouldn’t know that, of course.

  At least Martin wasn’t around. That guy had an aura of evil.

  Richard was sitting at a table, sipping at a cup of tea, when Todd walked in. “Ah, here you are,” Todd said. “Good.” He pulled up a chair opposite Richard and sat down. Unlike his prior well-tailored, formal appearance, he seemed a bit disheveled and fatigued.

  “Good tea,” said Richard.

  “I’m glad you like it. I have some news for you.” Todd paused, apparently for dramatic effect, or maybe he wanted to reinforce Richard’s awareness of Todd’s control over the situation. “Emily, Doug and Alex will be joining us here soon.” He stared into Richard’s eyes, apparently looking for a reaction. “They’re fine. We had a little disagreement about who was going to determine what’s going to happen next, but in the end, they succumbed without injury to more than their pride, and they’re on their way.”

  Richard was careful to keep his face a blank, but inside, he was conflicted. On the one hand, he was excited and eager to see his friends; his heart leapt at the thought. On the other, he was afraid for his friends and worried about what would happen next; his stomach churned at the possibilities. “How’s Oscar?”

  “He’s doing well too. He’s recovering from surgery - it’s very unfortunate what happened, by the way. I think he’ll be stable enough to join us soon.” Todd pushed back from the table and stood. “You’ll have to forgive me. Time is pressing and I have a lot of work to do. I will tell you more, as I promised, but let’s wait until we’re all together. I suggest you wait here and enjoy your tea. The errant trio will be here within the hour.”

  Richard could do nothing but watch as Todd left the room. What now? he thought. What am I going to do when he finds out the vial he has is just water? It won’t be long now. I can’t give him the real vial, no matter what. He’ll kill us all.

  Sighing in frustration, he began wondering what it was that made Todd tick. Why would a successful scientist whose life is dedicated to relieving the suffering of mankind be not only involved, but taking a leading role in what was going on? Todd was the key here. If he could be influenced, they had a chance. Richard researched the man extensively, but the objective details weren’t enough. It helped that Richard finally met him and had an intuitive feeling about him, but Richard needed to really understand him.

  Todd seemed to be detached. Was that the right word? His apartment was cold, sterile and seldom used. His schedule was packed too tight to leave room for more than pursuit of his career. At least on the surface, his entire life was his career. He had
no family, no pets, and as far as Richard could tell, no friends that weren’t professional contacts. Maybe Todd wasn’t so much detached as disengaged. He seemed to be so involved with intellectual pursuits that there was no room left for more basic human interaction.

  Richard thought about what he learned online. From biographic data, he knew Todd’s parents were both professionals - Mommy was a college professor in psychology at Columbia and Daddy was a thoracic surgeon at Mount Sinai Medical Center. There were plenty of families with both parents being professionals and yet were very much involved with their kids, but what if Todd’s parents weren’t? What if they didn’t have much time left over from the effort of building their careers. Maybe someone else took care of baby Todd most of the time. Maybe a nanny. He had an idea. I can’t actually get into his head, but I can imagine what it’s been like to live his life. I can pretend I’m in his place, knowing some of the details of his life, and fill in the rest with educated guesses.

  Richard closed his eyes and envisioned himself to be a small baby in an upscale apartment in Manhattan. He was sitting in a playpen and looking around the room. Mommy and Daddy were not there. They were seldom home, always having something important to do. He was taken care of by a nanny. Okay, let’s flesh it out a bit. Richard began telling himself a fiction, a story.

  His nanny was a nice enough lady, he liked her a lot. But she was not Mommy or Daddy. He felt terribly lonely. He craved loving attention from his parents. No, crave is not a strong enough word - he burned for it. It made him angry at his parents.

  At first, he expressed this anger openly when he saw his parents, but he soon learned this only made his parents more distant. Throwing a tantrum got him shoved off into the care of his nanny. “You take care of him,” his mother would say with a tone of exasperation. “I can’t do a thing with him.” His father looked on and shook his head.

  Then he discovered that if he did something they felt was clever, they would praise him and shower him with affection. “Honey! Come and see what Griffy can do!” his father would say with pride. His mother would come and coo over him most deliciously. He worked hard at learning what he could to earn their praise. But it was not enough; they simply were seldom home.