Winston Chase and the Omega Mesh

by Bodhi St John

Bernie broadcast to all of them.

  Bledsoe gave a small chuckle and nodded. “No doubt. So, let’s just get down to business, then. Apparently, the Omega Mesh tipped off Command One that y’all had gone behind my back, and they saw fit to send me here. I was also informed about your deal.”

  He passed by Bernie and stood before Winston’s feet. Shade gave a small growl, but Bledsoe only sighed, clearly showing his lack of concern. He nudged Winston’s left shoe with his toe and offered a little tsk-tsk.

  “That looks like a karma wound,” he said. “Bet it hurts.”

  “Not as much as seeing your face,” said Winston.

  That earned a thin-lipped smile from Bledsoe.

  Amanda came up behind Bledsoe, grabbed his arm, and spun him away from Winston. “What do you want?”

  “Same as always, dear,” Bledsoe replied. “World peace.” His brows crinkled as he glanced bemusedly upward. “Oh, wait, that’s not right, is it? Hm.” He backed away from her, eyes roving around the group, then finally back to Amanda. “Before you get your panties in too big a bunch, I’ll tell you that the one thing the Omega Mesh wouldn’t allow me to have was you. Anything else, though, apparently. They even showed some future footage of the bombs I ordered leveling the pyramids — and nobody seemed to mind!” His eyes regained some of their merciless, cold focus. “Anything in the world but you, Amanda.” He glanced sideways at Claude, who still stood behind Winston, unsure what to do. “I’d say she’s worth making a deal for. Wouldn’t you, old friend?”

  “She’s not a thing to bargain over,” said Claude between gritted teeth.

  Bledsoe took a long breath, thinking. “Not yet. That’s why I need the fifth piece. It’s time to have a one-on-one with the top dog.” He faced Bernie again and pointed at the Alpha Machine and Little e still on the alien’s arm. “First, of course, I’m going to need that.”

  Before Winston could yell out to stop her, Alyssa rushed at Bledsoe while his back was partially turned to her. She had her hands up, palms out, clearly intending to shove Bledsoe in the back and send him careening over the railing into the pool below.

  Alyssa got one foot planted, then stopped. Her hands remained elevated, and her eyes were large with incomprehension. Bledsoe turned to find her frozen in mid-stride. The confusion and anger on her face left little doubt about her intentions. Bledsoe burst out laughing.

  “Sorry, darlin’. The best laid plans and all.” He winked at Bernie. “That was you, I assume?”

  Bernie said.

  The cords on Alyssa’s neck strained as her face turned red with effort. She gasped and yelled as she tried to resume her attack, but all she managed was a slight wobble on her feet.

  After a moment, the fire went out of her eyes, replaced by brimming tears. “It’s not right,” she whispered. “Not him.”

  Bledsoe stretched out his hand for the Alpha Machine. “May I?”

  Bernie’s naturally tight features seemed to contract a bit more. His irises shifted into a deeper blue as he considered. he said.

  Bledsoe’s eyelids narrowed and he stiffened, as if anticipating being slapped. “Well, I’m going to in just a minute. What’s the difference?”

  Bernie made no reply.

  “Oh!” Winston interjected. “It’s the alien silent treatment! I’m glad it’s not just me.”

  The effort of speaking normally made the pain in his head spike in protest. He concentrated on sending more QVs to the spot. After a moment, the pain subsided back into its dull ache.

  Bernie released Alyssa, and she slumped with bitter resignation.

  “I don’t understand,” said Claude. “Why? Why let me go through all the work, for all these years, hiding the pieces, just to deliver everything to Bledsoe right before my eyes?” His voice hitched with sadness and frustration. “Just this…” He pointed at the pool. “Four years, just to put that piece in place a few minutes ago. I…I don’t understand, Bernie.”

  Bledsoe shrugged. “I’m the guy. Maybe it’s my winning character. Or my voice on the recorder in 24-whatever. Who knows? The Omega Mesh works in mysterious ways, as my mama used to almost say.”

  Hands balled into fists, Claude tore his gaze away from Bledsoe and stared at the ranks of submerged storage containers and their ranks of eerily glowing toxic waste.

  Winston’s heart ached for his father, who had given up his family in the prime of his life for this mad, apparently futile mission.

  Winston looked to his mother, Alyssa, Shade, and Bernie. No one spoke. The pool’s incessant hum filled the awkward gaps between them all.

  “Well, orders are orders,” said Bledsoe with the breezy ease of someone deciding to go shopping after a long nap. He had the nerve to hold out his arms wide and arch his back in a languid stretch. “If everyone is ready to get on with the inevitable, I’ll take that fifth piece now. Claude, would you be so kind as to do the honors?”

  Bledsoe pointed at the crane arm hovering over the pool. Claude’s expression left little doubt that he wanted to tell Bledsoe what else he could do with that crane. However, after hesitating and biting down on the words fighting to be spoken, Claude turned and walked back to the control cage.

  “Quick and easy,” said Bledsoe as he gave Winston a wink.

  Winston heard a guttural cry from the cage followed by a loud snap. Glancing back, Winston saw that Claude had both hands wrapped around the neck of a lever, as if strangling it in place of Bledsoe. The lever’s black shaft had what appeared to be a torn rubber seal dangling from its bottom. Claude tossed it out the cage door to clatter across the catwalk.

  “Oops!” he called. “We should get maintenance!”

  Bledsoe’s face darkened then pinched into a mirthless smile. “Right.” He glanced from the Colonel to Amanda and finally to Winston, eyes cold and considering. “You know, I remember the tests at Los Alamos and White Sands, when people were getting dosed with radiation. Sometimes on accident, sometimes not.” He knelt next to Winston and stared into his eyes as Claude slowly rejoined the group. “Death by radiation is probably one of the worst ways to go. It’s like your insides turn into some parasite with nothing to feed on but themselves. Fortunately…” He grabbed Winston’s shoulder and gave it a friendly jiggle, which set Winston’s head to screaming again. “…you have QVs. I’m willing to bet that, thanks your mom and dad here, you’ve got more or better QVs than any of the rest of us. Except Bernie, of course, and I don’t know how he does in the water.”

  Bledsoe leaned in close enough that Winston could smell the man’s stale breath.

  “Skinny frame like yours?” he said in a tone so low it was nearly a growl. “And so young and strong? I bet you’re a great swimmer. I’d even bet your life on it.”

  “You can’t order me down there,” said Winston.

  Bledsoe raised one eyebrow. “No?”

  “We’re supposed to stick together. How about we both go in?” Winston returned his razor-edge smile. “Just like old times.”

  “Maybe you should have stuck with me instead of coming here.” He took a deep breath, stood, and turned away. “But let’s ask our resident authority. Bernie, in the spirit of cooperation, can I have Winston go fetch that last piece down there?”

  Bernie gazed at Winston for a long moment, the glow from the pool turning the natural blue of his eyes nearly neon. At last, he said,

  “Should?!” cried Alyssa, rounding first on Bledsoe, then Bernie. “I’m not OK with should. No way is he going in that water — especially wounded!”

  Bledsoe approached her, eyes searching her for any sign of an attack. He held a hand up to his ear. “You hear that, darlin’? That drip-drip-drip?” He feigned searching about the chamber, then stared pointedly at Colonel Bauman. “So
mebody doesn’t have long to live unless they get some help. Now, we can stand here all day talking about who can or should do this or that, but I’m guessing you’d like to get this done quickly. Am I right?”

  Alyssa locked gazes with Winston, and he could see her struggling to fight back tears. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.

  Winston knew better. And much as he hated to admit it, Bledsoe was right. Winston was their best bet for retrieving the piece. The Colonel didn’t have time for him to waste in negotiating.

  Bernie interjected as he pointed to the entrance near the room’s corner.

  “Seriously?” Shade took stock of the situation. “Alyssa and I can draw the guards away. Mr. Hawthorne?”

  Claude nodded. “I’ll intercept the tech.”

  Alyssa’s eyes told Winston she didn’t want to leave, so Winston looked away, freeing her. He also didn’t want her to see the tears welling in his own eyes. He had already lost her suddenly once and, against all odds, obeyed her order to come back. He didn’t think he could take another goodbye kiss like the first.

  The three ran down the catwalk, up a small stairway, and out the chamber’s main entrance. Bledsoe clapped his hands once as he studied the pool below.

  “Sounds like it’s time to cooperate, my friend.” He reached a hand down toward Winston. “Tick tock.”

  Winston fought the urge to spit in his palm. Instead, he slipped out of his backpack, then rolled away from Bledsoe and onto his knees. His head protested so much that Winston gasped at the agony as his arms nearly collapsed under him. He stayed in his crouch, nearly in a fetal position, as he fought to control his breathing and push back the pain.

  Winston asked Bernie directly.

 

  Winston’s head drooped as despair took hold. He was so tired, and the similarity between the blue glow of his skin and the turquoise filling the bottom of the pool seemed more than ominous.

  “It’s like I was built to die here,” he muttered to himself, recalling in vivid detail the scene supplied by his father’s exposed brain.

  His mother knelt beside him, an arm across his back, hands gently gripping his shoulders.

  “Winston Delano Chase,” she said, putting as much comfort as she could muster in her strained voice. “I did not make you or raise you to die here.”

  “But look at that.” He motioned with his chin toward the pool. “And…I’ve seen it, Mom. Just before Dad died. This is where it ends.”

  Amanda stiffened momentarily, then she cupped her hand gently under his jaw and lifted his face to her own. She shook her head. Her eyes were red and moist, but the firm resolve in her features was unmistakable.

  “Do you know why your father was so enamored of World War II?” she asked. Winston had no answer. “People called us the greatest generation. We were just as messed up as any other generation, but by God when it was time to come together and fight evil, we did it. We knew right from wrong, and we weren’t afraid to sacrifice everything for the right reasons. There is no higher calling than that.”

  “Mom.” Winston’s voice broke on his thirst and exhaustion. “This isn’t World War II. Knowing right from wrong doesn’t matter when the aliens control everything I can do.”

  At first, Amanda was speechless. It was hard to argue with the facts. She chewed on her top lip, thinking, then said with finality, “You have not lost control. Just us being here proves that. And Winston…” She kissed his brow, then rested her forehead against his. “Look at where we are. Look at who’s here. We’re still in the wake of World War II. And believe me, we have seen many days when everything looked lost.” She held him even tighter. “Never, never, never give up. Do you hear me?”

  He nodded once.

  “Just because the future is slippery doesn’t mean it can’t work in your favor.”

  Winston reached with one arm and hugged her.

  “God, enough already!” interrupted Bledsoe. “Can we finish this before security shows up and we have to start all over again?”

  Amanda supported Winston as he groaned and swayed to his feet. The blue glowing through his clothes showed that the QVs were hard at work, but the mental effort it took to keep the pain down to a manageable level couldn’t have been more difficult. He reached for the catwalk railing and leaned on it, breathing heavily. The drop was nothing compared to what he’d faced at the Astoria bridge, but, of course, the danger wasn’t in hitting the surface.

  thought Winston directly to the alien as he gazed at the spent fuel canisters,

 

  Winston turned his head to look directly into Bernie’s eyes.

  Bernie blinked and glanced away. Winston wondered if, even now, he was silently conversing with his computerized master.

 

  He nearly said human but caught himself.

 

  Winston sighed. He gave the slim alien a wink.

  “Do you need a push?” asked Bledsoe.

  Winston gripped the rail more firmly. Now that he was upright, he felt a bit stronger, but not much. Not by a long shot.

  “No,” he said. “But you fetching me a Coke would be nice…partner.”

  Eyes alight with anticipation, Bledsoe flicked his fingers toward the pool, beckoning toward the point below the dangling crane. “So slow, and a poor attitude. We’ll discuss your performance at your next review.”

  Amanda helped to steady Winston as he carefully slid his leg over the railing. His hand left a crimson smear along the green-painted metal as he prepared to jump in.

  A thought struck him, and he looked about the spent fuel room. “If you want that piece, you might consider finding me a rope or something. So I can get out.”

  Bledsoe raised his eyebrows and also glanced around the cavernous room. “Fair point. I’ll see what I can find.”

  Before she could stop him, Bledsoe crossed behind Amanda, brought up his arms, and shoved Winston off the edge. Only half-prepared, his arms waved wildly, trying to find balance. Winston barely heard his mother’s gasp. Her hand stretched toward him, receding as he fell.

  The water hit the back of his legs, sending a concussion of pain through his exhausted body. Involuntarily, he opened his mouth, wanting to cry out and knowing he couldn’t. He sank at least five feet, perhaps ten, then opened his eyes.

  Before him, the seemingly endless ranks of stainless steel spent fuel crates stretched on, glowing with their mesmerizing, fatal beauty.

  Winston’s skin began to prickle and itch.

  30

  The Epi Pen Ploy

  Alyssa had toured enough military installations with her grandfather to recognize the look and smell of a government facility. This one was run down, for sure. There were too many spots on the walls where the glossy, greenish-gray paint flaked away, too much dust in the corners and atop the glass light covers that jutted periodically from the walls. Hanford, or at least this area of it, smelled old and stale. The closest thing to decoration was cheesy wood panelin
g that ran along the bottom of the hallway walls. This had to be the 1970s. No other decade was so ugly.

  She and Shade ducked into a doorway recessed within the hall. They heard two sets of booted footsteps no more than fifty feet away. Shade wasted no time as he slid his already-open backpack from his shoulder.

  He reached inside, fumbled inside for a moment, then handed Alyssa a disposable camera.

  Taking it from him, she gave him an open-mouthed expression that said, See if your brain is also in there somewhere.

  He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Taser. The shutter release fires the leads. Ten-foot range.”

  Alyssa nodded. Leave it to treehouse-boy to go all James Bond.

  Shade fetched a few other small items from the bag and stuff them into his cargo pants pockets.

  Slowly zipping the pack up, he whispered, “If we run, we’re only going to find more of them. And they can’t reach the pool, right? So, we have to take these two out. Ready?”

  Alyssa was most definitely the opposite of ready. She shook her head, feeling panic squeeze everything in her chest. “No.”

  Shade smiled, all white teeth and round cheeks.

  “Not,” she hissed. “Not ready!”

  “Stay here. Be ready with that on my signal.”

  And before she could raise any more objections, Shade dropped his bag on the floor, doubled over, and stumbled into the main hall, coughing as if he were failing the “tablespoon of cinnamon powder” challenge. He took one step to his right before falling to one knee — just far enough to keep him and anyone in front of him from seeing her waiting around the corner.

  “Al—” Shade gasped. Alyssa dared to lean out just enough to see his back and that he had one arm outstretched toward the security guards. “Aller—” Again, he convulsed with coughing as his other hand gripped his throat.

  “Hey!” said one of the men.

  Alyssa heard them break into a run, heavy steps quickly closing the gap to Shade. She gripped the camera tighter, hands shaking. Wait — what was the shutter button? She’d only ever taken pictures with a phone!