The Annihilation of Foreverland (A Science Fiction Thriller)

by Tony Bertauski

  19

  Light softly flooded the Haystack. Danny shivered.

  The boys were slowly coming to life. Zin was still on his back. Reed’s cell was empty. Danny didn’t bother wondering where he was or if he was alive, he just needed to get out. The others were already ahead of him, scurrying for the exit. No one spoke.

  Danny’s clothes were near the opening of his cell, the door slung open. He quickly got dressed and hurried for the outdoors, to get heat into his bones. They exited into the shade of the trees, but the air was so much warmer than inside the Haystack. They trotted down the path to the end. Sun.

  Danny stopped as he entered the Yard, savoring the warmth on his face, the smell of green grass and the sound of birds.

  Something flashed.

  He shaded his eyes and picked up a small twinkle in the top floor of the Chimney behind the black windows. He gave it little thought. Instead, he started for the dorms to get some rest. He hadn’t moved all day, but all that healing was exhausting. He couldn’t exactly remember what had happened.

  Danny crossed the Yard.

  Zin was still inside the Haystack, shivering on the floor.

  20

  The Director scrubbed his hair with a towel.

  It had been days since he’d showered. Work was demanding. Sometimes he forgot what he smelled like. But when a man stays locked away on the top floor of a luxury penthouse-style apartment, it didn’t matter what he smelled like. But a shower was in order. He needed to get outside and stretch a bit, see his island. Reconnect with the reason he came to it in the first place.

  Things have evolved so quickly.

  He saw the line of boys emerging from the trees.

  The Director threw the towel over the back of a chair and aimed one of his telescopes. He dialed the knob until the faces came into focus. They were exhausted and shivering. Eight hours of bone-chilling cold would make a polar bear chatter. Those boys had no idea what their bodies were enduring while they were away.

  Foreverland, they called it.

  The Director couldn’t have come up with a better name. Then again, he never could have envisioned what his island had become. Not in a million years.

  These kids had no idea what a gift they’d received. If they knew what their lives had been like before he brought them to this paradise, they’d break down like rag dolls. Then again, if they knew the price they were paying for such freedom, for the unadulterated alternate reality, they might not exactly drop to their knees in thanks.

  Evolution works that way. The weak feed the strong.

  The boys continued to exit the trees, crossing the Yard toward their warm beds. They’d stop for some food but then they’d sleep the night away. The Director kept his telescope focused on the trees until he came out. The kid stopped, shaded his eyes and glanced in the direction of the Director.

  Danny Boy.

  He was filled with the urge to mix a drink.

  The Director questioned that acquisition, the young little redheaded hacker. He wasn’t the typical candidate for his program. He was too smart. Too skilled. He needed kids that were physically fit. Not necessarily retarded, but he didn’t need a genius, either. Just an ordinary kid that would follow the pack.

  But that Mr. Jones persuaded him it was the right choice. Said the kid had enhanced brain activity that would open new avenues in the program. The Director knew Jones was only in it for himself, but he made sense.

  The Director was reluctant because the program was delicate. There were so many unknown factors that a risk was dangerous. But if he didn’t push into the unknown, the program would stagnate. In fact, if the problem – the problem – hadn’t already started, he would’ve told Jones to go slam his head in the sand. But he needed some solutions, and, damnit, Jones made sense.

  Reed created the problem. The Director needed to keep him around to solve it. So far, that wasn’t working. He couldn’t make Reed take the needle. It just wouldn’t work if he didn’t want it, if he wasn’t open to it. If the Director punched it through his skull against his will, it would do more harm than good.

  Danny Boy, though, could be the key. He’d already reached out to Reed on the beach. The Director knew it had something to do with the girl that confronted him in the first round.

  She is the problem.

  She was still hiding in the Nowhere. She was careful, sent the kid a clue. The Director didn’t know what she had in mind, but he would keep following. And like all his enemies, she would be destroyed in the end. He rubbed the small hole in his forehead. After all, she couldn’t escape. He knew where she was, he just couldn’t reach her.

  “Director?” the intercom squawked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “We’re ready.”

  The Director watched Danny cross the Yard. He was too sleepy, too damn cold, to do anything else. He’d go to his room and sleep off the experience for the next day. That would give the Director some time to figure out something for the next round.

  He decided he’d mix that drink after all. Tomato juice and vodka mixed over three ice cubes. The Director stirred it with a stalk of celery. He took a swig, hit it with a dash of pepper. He crossed to the other side and stood over another telescope, this one pointed over Geezer Mansion. He munched the celery and looked at the water beyond.

  He focused on the horizon. There was nothing but the sharp edge where water met the sky. He often imagined he could see land beyond it. But that was too far for a telescope. He hadn’t seen it in many years.

  “Director?” The voice was impatient. “We would like to begin—”

  “Don’t interrupt, Mr. Jackson.”

  The intercom remained silent.

  The Director finished his drink. When he was good and ready, he went to the elevator to assume his position as Director of a revolutionary program.

  The world would remember him long after they forgot Jesus.

  21

  PARKER LAY ON A BED. Mouth open. His lips were dry and cracked; his hair springing out in all directions.

  A needle in his forehead.

  A bald old man pulled aside a curtain that divided the room in half. “We’re clear, Director.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jackson.”

  The Director stood at the foot of the bed. The room was hospitable with soothing blue walls and the white curtain. There was a large glass window with half a dozen old men staring at them. At one time, the Investors stood in the room with the Director. Now, they were sequestered in the sound-proof booth. The Director needed peace and quiet when he worked his magic.

  The Director would’ve banished them altogether, but these old men funded the project. The Director had proven to be a smart man in science and politics, so he let them watch. They didn’t like it, but they were smart men, as well. They eventually stopped complaining and the Director eventually forgot they were there. Besides, he wanted them to see him perform the miracle. The Director was not a magician.

  He was a savior.

  Parker’s eyes began rapid eye movement. The Director moved next to the bed. The eyes danced beneath the lids.

  “Come on, now,” the Director said, gently. “Come on.”

  Sometimes he lost them in the final leg of the journey; they just needed to connect the mind with the body. The sound of his voice gave them guidance. Previous patients said it was like a beacon bringing them home. It was very dark and directionless where they were; the mind drifting in unknown territory.

  He cradled Parker’s head, careful not to bump the wire protruding from the end of the needle that connected to a bedside computer. He brushed the wild hair back and stroked his cheeks, anything to stimulate the nervous system, give the mind direction.

  “You’re almost there.” The eyes bounced faster. “Almost. Come on, now.”

  The eyes stopped.

  Opened.

  Parker stared at the Director without seeing him. Slowly, they came into focus. The Director pulled the needle from his forehead and stood
back, gave him space. Parker sat up like a spring. He jerked his head around, surveying the room, eyes wide with wonder. He looked at his hands, turning them over, palm to back to palm.

  “You did it,” he said. “I’ve never felt… this good.”

  The men in the booth were waiting for a sign. Parker lifted his hand and waved. He saw them silently clap. The Director stopped Parker from standing.

  “The password.”

  Parker jittered like a kid hopped up on energy drinks. He watched the men in the booth, mouthing out the words, He did it, he did it!

  The Director squeezed his arms. “Password.”

  Parker focused on him. His lips moved but the word wouldn’t come. He searched the Director’s face for the answer. Mr. Jackson appeared from around the curtain, hiding a syringe behind his back. The Director glanced at him.

  The old men settled.

  “Last time,” he said. “Password, please.”

  ______

  Panic jittered in Parker’s stomach. The Director gave him a password before the journey to ensure he had made it. Without it, he couldn’t be sure.

  He knew the moment was about to pass by and he was about to lose everything he worked for. The Director let go of him and sat back. Parker sat still, thinking. A word was coming. He felt Mr. Jackson take a step and held up a finger to give him more time. He knew there was a needle behind his back. He knew if he didn’t give the Director the word they would put him out and try it again. Next time, he might not return from that dark, drifting place.

  He looked up.

  Eyes bright.

  “Foreverland.”

  The Director nodded. Smiled. “Foreverland, indeed.”

  He grabbed Parker’s arm and held it up. They turned to the booth and the expectant faces inside.

  “We’ve saved another one, gentlemen!” the Director shouted.

  ______

  The old men entered the lab with cheers, shaking Parker’s hand vigorously and patting him on the back. The Director stood back and watched. It was his favorite moment. The fruit of his labor. They brought Parker a glass of water and – in between sips – listened to him describe the details of his journey. They listened with bright eyes.

  Mr. Jackson sheathed the syringe and stepped next to the Director.

  “Check his vitals,” the Director said. “And run him through cognition testing. If everything checks out, put him on the standard quarantine for six weeks. His body’s in good shape, but we don’t want him slipping away after all this hard work.”

  Parker touched his forehead, tenderly.

  “Wait to remove the stent until the quarantine is complete,” the Director added. “Just in case we need to go inside again. Otherwise, he won’t need that anymore.” He smiled at Mr. Jackson. “At least not for quite some time.”

  “And the garbage?”

  “Hold it in the freezer for a few days, then the oven.”

  Mr. Jackson went behind the curtain.

  The Director put his arm around Parker’s shoulders and shook hands with all the men.

  “We’re saving the world one life at a time, gentlemen.” He smiled through the scraggly beard. “One life at a time.”

  22

  “Boom!” Sid slammed down the Jack of Spades. “That’s game, you hole-headed freaks!”

  The others threw their cards down. Sid swept them up. They were two days out of the Haystack and the damp cold was still inside them. Lying in bed just wasn’t the same as letting the sun heat them up. They sat around the table killing time while they slow-roasted their bodies in the mid-afternoon heat.

  Danny had been to the beach. He was expecting Reed to be warming up on the dune, but it was empty. He wanted to tell him.

  Merry Christmas, Danny Boy.

  It was from her. The red wrapping, the same bright red of her hair. The sand, he figured, maybe that meant the beach. Meet her at the beach inside the needle? Was that it? Or meet Reed at the beach when he got back? And Merry Christmas?

  “Zinski!” Sid slapped Zin. “Wake up, boy. It’s your deal.”

  Zin had his elbows on the table, staring at the mess of cards. He was yawning. Danny caught him shivering, earlier. Zin slowly unraveled the cards, stacking them all in one direction. He attempted to shuffle but they sprayed over the table.

  “I think Zinski’s heading for the Chimney, boys,” Sid announced. “You feeling a little foggy, son? A little muddled in the noodle?”

  Zin batted his arm away. “I’m waking up, fool.”

  “Oooooo…” Sid poked the cards out of his hands. “This dog’s got some bite.”

  Zin carefully picked them up and began putting them back together. He was sluggish. Maybe he was tired, but he was breathing through his mouth. Vacancy lingered in his eyes now and then. How long before the Chimney took him?

  Danny didn’t want to think about it. He just got here and now Zin was looking more like Parker. Danny got up and stretched.

  “Where you going?” Sid scooped up the cards as Zin dealt them.

  “A walk, I guess.”

  “Maybe you’re going to the beach with Reed.”

  “Why would I do that?” Danny snapped.

  “I don’t know. You been there a couple times, I thought maybe you two were dating.”

  “Give him a break,” Danny said. “Who on this island is normal?”

  “That’s my point, you lunatic. He’s standout crazy on an island of crazies. Right, Zinski?”

  Zin blocked Sid’s attempt to rustle his hair.

  “Reed’s in his room,” Zin said. “I heard him in there before I came down.”

  “Well, good,” Sid said. “Maybe they finally broke through his granite skull and he’ll pop the needle like the rest of us.” Sid played a card. “He thinks he’s too good, that’s his problem. He’s special or something, all high and mighty that he can’t damage his royal head. Friggin idiot, is what he is.”

  “You hit it right on the money.” Danny stepped closer. “He’s so stuck up that he would rather suffer than go inside the needle. All this time I thought he was trying to work something out or maybe he was just afraid we’re all doing the wrong thing, but now you’ve made so much sense, Sid. He’s an asshole! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  The game stopped. Sid tapped his cards on the table. “What’s your problem, kid? You got a crush on Looney Tunes?”

  “You ever stop to think why we’re here, Sid?”

  “We’re here because we’re sick.” Sid nodded at the others. “This is a revolutionary method of healing, or did you miss orientation?”

  “You buying that?” Danny looked around. “We’ve all had our memories sucked out and scrambled and we’re marched into a prison cell and forced to get naked before they torture us until we stick a needle in our brains… that’s what you’re buying, no questions asked?”

  “It’s revolutionary, dummy.”

  “Or something else,” Danny said.

  Silence settled.

  Sid tapped his cards into a neat stack and placed them face down. He was thinking. They all were. It was the line of questions that was always ignored. No one wanted to think about it. Even Danny.

  But it was out there like the Ace of Spades.

  “Okay, hotshot.” Sid was expressionless. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

  Danny clenched his fists so no one would see him shaking. He didn’t have any more balls to do something about it than any of the rest of them. He was reaching for the needle just like they were; swimming towards a bone-crushing waterfall.

  Danny opened his hands. His fingers trembled.

  “That’s what I thought.” Sid picked up his cards. “So why don’t you shut your little cake hole and play some cards.”

  Sid shouted for the next play. Zin was staring, mouth open.

  23

  Danny went to the beach a couple of times that week. Always empty.

  He avoided Sid and company and they didn’t seem to care. They had
locked up first place so they didn’t need Danny anymore. They went to the game room without him while he was lying in the middle of the Yard with an unobstructed view of the Chimney. The smoke stack was leaking fumes. It was hardly noticeable, just a thin discolored wisp.

  Danny dozed off. It felt good to be so warm and alone. Sometimes when he felt that good, he forgot about the island. He thought about a time when he was sitting in the kitchen at home when a warm breeze made brightly colored curtains dance in the windowpane. It smelled like cut grass. And his mom was there with macaroni and cheese in a plastic bowl.

  It didn’t bother him that it probably wasn’t his memory. He enjoyed it, nonetheless.

  “Danny Boy?” A shadow passed over. “You all right, my boy?”

  Danny refused to open his eyes. He was sick of being Mr. Jones’s boy. “Yes, sir. Just enjoying the weather, that’s all.”

  “Okay.” Mr. Jones’s laugh was grating. “Well, your camp is going to the cafeteria. I thought maybe you’d be with them.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re not sick, are you?” Mr. Jones’s took a knee and his old-smelling hand landed on his forehead. It was soft, untouched by manual labor. “Perhaps you should get some rest in your room so you don’t get sunburned.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that.” It was best not to argue. “I’m waiting for Zin, though.”

  “Isn’t he in his room?”

  “He’s coming.” Danny lied.

  “Are you boys going to the game room?”

  “No, sir. I think we’ll do some exploring. Maybe hike over to the beach or something.”

  “That’s a fine idea, Danny Boy. A little exercise is good for you. Maybe you could grab an apple before you head off. You know what they say, an apple a day…”

  “Keeps the doctor away,” Danny finished.

  And Mr. Jones laughed. He grunted as he stood up but kept on laughing. “At a boy,” he said. “You’re a good boy, Danny Boy. A good one.”

  Mr. Jones smacked the grass off his hands. There was an awkward silence. Danny hadn’t opened his eyes. Mr. Jones finally said, “Well, I’m going to turn in for a nap and sleep for the both of us, my boy.” That was punctuated by a short laugh and Danny cringed. “If you need anything, ask one of the Investors and they’ll be in touch with me.”