by Kipjo Ewers
Armitage’s eyes widened, as the Director’s words knocked him on his ass.
“Read your psyche files after your mandatory sessions to see if you were still deemed fit to remain a field agent,” Director shook his head in disgust, “You just couldn’t let that interrogation go to pick up your own daughter…”
An irate Mark lunged at Rosen screaming at the top of his lungs. The soldiers flanking him again overpower him.
He frothed at the mouth clawing the air to get to Rosen, “You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! I swear to god I’ll kill you for saying her name!!”
“Wow…everyone wants to kill me today,” Director said acting hurt, “Giving me a complex…get him out of here, and get her prepped. We’re already behind schedule with this nonsense.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Mark was lead down a hallway by a triple arm guard pass a series of cells, his initial rage over the Director conjuring demons within him had subsided; he had to focus and figure a way out of there. If what the Director told him was true about no backup coming because of him labeled a rogue agent, there was a chance he was not leaving this place alive. He would be lucky if he ended up like poor Eric Dunbar although his fate appeared to be worse than a death sentence.
One of the guards opened the cell while one trained his rifle on him as the third removed his restraints and shoved him into the cell. No chance of fighting his way out of this situation; he had to wait for another opportunity, as they closed the cell door behind him, and walked away.
He examined the cell, looking for a way out which clearly had none, when he heard a groan from the cell across from him; right now, a fellow inmate could be a fellow ally in situations like this, “Hey! Hey! Anyone there? You with me buddy?”
Shuffling heard from behind the cell door as the person he was attempting to communicate with struggled to get up. Two hands finally gripped the bars in front of the small window of the cell door as Mark’s eyes widen, while staring into the face of a dead man.
“Doctor Hampton?” Mark said in disbelief, “They said they killed you!”
Badly worked over but very much alive was Charles Hampton from what Armitage could judge despite the limited view he had.
“Those bastards damn near tried,” he groaned, “I was at home watching the news about what happened in DC…next thing I knew I passed out, and I woke up to a right cross from a big nasty looking son of a bitch with a horrible disposition.”
Mark figured it must have been Slater; he fit the bill for cruel and unusual punishment.
“Why’d they take you?” Mark asked.
“They’re looking for the samples and data I have on Sophia. She told me to destroy them and I was, but something kept telling me it was too valuable to destroy,” he sighed a bit disappointed he did not do what she asked, “So I sent them off for storage which trust me is not easy to do in an age where everything is tracked and you’re almost watched 24/7. It’s probably why I’m still alive, because I think they would have killed me if they found it.”
“Like they killed Lieutenant Scott and his family…” Mark said in disgust.
“Are you serious?” Charles asked in disbelief.
“From what I can tell yeah, and it looks like we’re stuck here till we can find some sliver of a chance out,” Mark said running his hand across the door to his cell, “So how about passing the time by telling me why you helped Dennison fake her daughter’s death?”
Charles drew a sigh, which only made him cough due to his battered ribs. Since his fate was clearly up in the air, it was time for Agent Armitage to hear his confession, “Four months into her pregnancy she started to have dreams…reoccurring dreams of her daughter as an infant crying hysterically looking for her…while walking around aimlessly in a warzone littered with corpses wearing nothing but just a bloody American flag. She said every time she had the dream it was the same, except the flag got bloodier and bloodier, the bodies started to look like friends and family and were stacking higher, and her cries louder to the point of shrills. In her culture…recurring dreams were omens…she was sure that the dream meant she had to keep her daughter away from the General at all costs.”
“Her father-in-law”, who Mark now realized was the center of all this madness for sure.
Charles nodded, “General Matheson’s entire family legacy is military dating back to the Civil War I think…all four branches and all serving in every known conflict. He’s the only one ever to achieve the rank of four star General…she knew if he had his way he’d influence her daughter to join the military, and she didn’t want him to do to her what he did to Robert.”
“She married a soldier, but hated the military?” he said not understanding her logic.
“Exact opposite…she respected the military a lot, and she loved Robert; but she knew that he wasn’t meant to be a soldier,” Charles explained, “Physically he had all the makeup of one, but it wasn’t in his heart she said; Robert was just doing it to please his old man; he had all the love and respect for him…”
Charles shrugged, “He figured he’d do his four years, have it under his belt, get his dad off his back, get his trust fund, and start the custom car restoration company he wanted. Who knew 9/11 was around the corner. Let it be said he wasn’t the same man coming back.”
Charles coughed as he clutched his still aching ribs, “During his first tour, Sophia said every time she spoke to him, it felt like his soul was dying bit by bit. I saw it too in a video message he sent…but she hung in there with him praying for the day his tour of duty would be over; then the General “somehow” got him to enlist again…“Mathesons are in till it’s over…till every man comes home,” and all that bullshit…”
Mark listened with disgust, more so because it was apparent the General and he had similar traits.
“Sophia wanted children…but she didn’t want to have them with Robert over there, so she waited,” he continued his story, “You can image what happened when she found out he re-enlisted and was going back over…they argued every day. One time General Matheson paid her a visit to “educate” her on being a “proper” military wife…she had a couple of uneducated words for him that day…anyway…Robert went back over…and then he got injured…”
Mark knew what happened after that from the conversation he just had with the Director.
“She said she’d rather die with her baby and burn in hell, then let the General have her, and if I didn’t help her. She’d find a way to kill herself and the baby, because she wasn’t having an abortion,” just saying it still appeared to bother him, “I knew she’d do it, and I knew she knew how to do it. So we got an attorney to help appoint me as her doctor, I was also given power of attorney to facilitate a closed adoption for her when the baby was born, found a very nice family. We told no one what we were doing…when she went into labor we told no one. I delivered the baby and signed a birth certificate giving the child the adopted parents’ name and then a death certificate telling everyone else the baby was a still born due to complications, and that Sophia wanted the body cremated by her wishes. It was a million to one chance but everyone bought it. We probably wouldn’t have pulled it off without Sophia’s money.”
“Sophia’s money?” Mark knit his brows.
“The joint accounts pertaining to her and Robert were all frozen,” Charles recalled, “But Sophia had almost over a million and a half dollars in a personal saving account before Robert was murdered. Before he went to Iraq, he paid off the house and both the cars. Sophia didn’t want for money…they were living comfortably off his trust fund and military pay. She took her paychecks from Memorial Hermann and just saved a bulk of them. She also had investments and stock options. Robert advised her to keep it in a separate bank due to all the identity theft going on. Her name was also on the house with Robert. That is why her killing Robert for money was all bullshit. Anyway, she liquidated it all, and put me in charge of it paying or paying off whomever we needed. She spared no expense to
keep her daughter hidden from General Matheson.”
“Well I got news for you Doc,” Mark drew a heavy breath full of bad news, “These sons of bitches murdered that nice little family you found, and they have the little girl.”
“What?!” he proceeded to cough profusely, “Why?!”
“The little girl is actually the first superhuman,” Mark informed Hampton, “Dennison inherited her powers from her child while she was still in her womb somehow…her husband Robert was recruited by his father General Matheson to become a part of this superhuman death squad the D.E.A.D, which are apparently beta testers for a much larger super human project. They killed him for trying to expose the truth, and framed Dennison for his murder. ”
A stunned Charles braced himself against the door fighting to stay up as he took the gut checking news hard, “Oh god…I know what her dream was about…the little girl…the bodies…she killed all those people…shedding blood for this country…”
“What?!” Mark asked demanding the 411.
“If what you’re saying is true…if what they told you is true,” Charles began to babble forming calculations in his head, “Wait! It all makes sense! That’s why Robert didn’t want to sleep with Sophia when he got back!”
“Say what?” Mark asked again trying to keep up with his ranting.
“For months after getting back from Iraq and the hospital after his injury, he refused to touch her; she thought it was due to the PTSD. Then she thought he was cheating on her. He was probably afraid whatever was within him would be passed onto the child!” concluded Charles.
“How do you know they weren’t having sex”, Mark asked mystified that Hampton was all up in the business.
“She’s my best friend,” returned Charles, “She tells me everything. Anyway, that little girl has the potential to be a thousand times more powerful than Sophia if nurtured and developed…possibly god like…”
Mark looked around again examining the cell door, “I don’t think they’re looking to develop her abilities…more like steal them…like they plan to do to her mother.”
“That’s even worst! Wait, Sophia’s here?!” Charles said officially flipping out.
“Yeah she’s here,” confirmed Mark, “They plan on harvesting her cells for the virus so they can make more of her.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Charles pounded against his cell door in frustration, “Doesn’t someone know you’re here?!”
“Someone knows what state I’m in, but they won’t find the exact location, not in time,” sighed Mark sadly remembering Eric Dunbar, “The person who could have given them my location they just lobotomized right in front of me…for now we just have to sit, wait, and pray for a miracle…if they still do exist.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a different section of the base, Sophia had already settled into her confines, which were a lot bigger and cleaner than her cell at Mountain View. The entire cell was of some pure metal alloy probably titanium, tungsten, or a mixture of both. The door to her confines was massive and vault like. The only two sitting areas was the metal toilet on the other side of the room, and the folding steel cot attached to the wall; there were no windows to look out. Not even in the heavy sliding door so she could look into the hallway like Armitage and Hampton who were several levels up from her.
As instructed, she removed all of her clothes, showered under supervision, which was uncomfortable and slipped on the extremely skintight red, white and black sci-fi bodysuit complete with attached booties that they put in her cell. There were three black metallic ports on each of the arms and legs, and four ports on the spine of the suit. She figured out the ports were used to guide the needles to inject into different parts of her body in order to take samples, which would be one hell of a trick considering there was not very much out there that could pierce her skin these days.
She looked around the bare sterile white room with the typical florescent medical lights. The only other color in there beside her and her little to the imagination bodysuit were the four black orbs planted in each corner of the room, no doubt surveillance cameras watching her every move.
Slowly she strolled over to the heavy sliding door she came through; placing her hand on it she pushed forward a bit making a hand print in it, while the force of her push made the metal door emit a hard creaking sound. The slight touch caused the four orbs to turn red with four beams locked on her; she removed her hand from the door as the beams remained on her tracking her for another fifteen seconds before shutting off returning the orbs back to normal.
Even if she was fast enough to smash through the door as explained by the guard, who lead her into her cell, there were motion sensors and cameras throughout the entire facility, most importantly the hallways.
She also did not have a clue where they were holding her daughter, which meant for the time being she was a prisoner again.
She pulled down the metal folding cot attached to the wall rolling onto it, which surprisingly held her weight, closed her eyes, and concentrated on Charles, Ken, Liz, their children Sammy and Ashley.
She tried to focus on the good times they had, Charles and her graduating medical school together, Ken’s speech at her and Robert’s wedding, Liz pregnant with Sammy who she was able to hold in her arms, and then Ashley.
Various other memories flooded her head, causing tears to pour; she curled up into a ball and wept bitterly. They were all dead now because of her, because of the mess she brought to their doorsteps.
It was memories of Charles that broke her heart. He never gave up on her; he never stopped believing in her, and he was always there whenever she needed him; even when she pushed him away, and even when she did not feel the same way about him that she knew he felt for her. She was trying to protect him; to keep him away from all of this hell and madness, and she failed. She wailed as memories of the little time they spent together flooded her head, even the stupid bear mace incident.
“Charlie…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…oh god…I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
Her best friend was gone all because of the lies and deception of her own husband; someone she thought she knew but did not. Memories of special moments and the deep love they shared were mixed with the imagination of the nights he supposedly left to hang out with friends or needing time to himself, but was off half way across the world murdering innocent people; men, women, and children.
Destroying their lives for no reason just like the D.E.A.D destroyed hers, all for his father’s legacy.
Uncontrollable sobbing turned to blind rage as she rolled off the cot screaming, ripping it from off the wall and flinging it across the cell smashing it into the opposite wall. She then turned and proceeded to hammer the metal wall, the force her blows sending shockwaves throughout the facility; the orbs became red again locking onto her, but she did not care.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “You stupid goddamn son of a bitch!! I hate you!! I hate you!! I hate you!!”
Blow after blow she rained down on the wall leaving dents the size of craters, until her last punch pierced the metal wall going straight through hitting mountain rock, it was then she remembered her daughter. The night she gave birth to her, Charles was the one who delivered her, and who she secretly gave power of attorney to both oversee her adoption, and make sure that no one, not even the General himself knew she had survived the birth and was alive.
She remembered that when she came out she only cried a little, her little lungs no doubt quickly adjusting to the harsh air because of her genetics, she looked right up at her as if she knew Sophia was her mother.
She held her all night long, while the child just looked at her until she fell asleep. The next day Charles took her away to her new parents; she cried for almost the entire week. Sophia pulled her hand out of the wall looking at her fist, and remembered what the Director said, that her daughter saved her life.
Her husband was dead, hating him now would sol
ve nothing, and nothing she did, no amount of vengeance would bring him, Charles, nor anyone else back. Her daughter was alive, out there, and she needed her.