by David Meyer
This time, the beast blocked her attack. Its paw felt pulpy and free of hair. It forced her right arm into the cold snow.
She jammed her left arm deeper into the beast's throat.
Another paw appeared. There were paws everywhere. What was going on?
A weight pressed against her left wrist. Beverly steeled her muscles. But the beast was too heavy, too strong. Slowly, it forced her arm toward the snow. Its jaws inched closer to her. Teeth grazed her neck. Blood—her blood—dripped down her skin and mixed with the white powder.
She started to pass out. It was over.
It was—
Chapter 63
Her bloodcurdling scream filled my ears.
I dropped my mug and darted out of the kitchen. I turned into the Work hallway and ran like hell. I reached the Whitlow laboratory in a matter of seconds.
Beverly screamed again. Her voice sounded weak, lifeless.
I grabbed the knob and threw my weight against the door. It crashed open and I raced into the laboratory. It was shrouded in shadow and flickering candlelight.
Beverly lay on the table. Roy Savala stood over her. He held a pillow in both hands. It was pushed against her face. She struggled to resist, but her movements were slow, lethargic. Ben Savala stood a few feet away, watching everything with mild disinterest.
I grabbed my machete.
Roy ducked behind Beverly's slumped body. "Shoot him," he yelled.
Ben started to lift a rifle.
Still rubbing his eyes, Jenner raced into the room. He quickly assessed the situation. He produced a pistol and leveled it at Ben. "Don't even think about it."
Slowly, Ben lowered his hands.
Where the hell did all of these guns come from?
I circled to the side. "What's this about, Roy?"
"She saw something she shouldn't have seen."
"And what was that?"
"Something I'll die to protect."
"Did you blow up the power plant?" I asked. "Did you kill Ted?"
"No." He shifted again, doing his best to keep Beverly between us. "I'm sorry about this. I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
Our movements caused a series of light breezes. They extinguished most of the candles, sending the room into near darkness. Just three candles remained lit. They cast small, wavering shadows on the walls.
My palms started to sweat. The machete felt slippery in my fingers. "You don't have to hurt her."
"I'm afraid that's not true."
"There's no way out of here."
"Is that right?" He snaked his arm around Beverly's neck. "Back up, into the hallway. Otherwise, I'll kill her."
He was planning to kill her anyway. So, I coiled up my body and sprang at him. At the same time, I thrust out my arm, aiming for his exposed side.
He parried the blow and socked me in the jaw. My vision exploded into lights. I went low and kicked at his legs.
He grunted in pain and released Beverly. Then his other fist slammed into the side of my head.
I dropped the machete. My cheek started to sting. My vision blurred.
My boot lashed out again. It slammed into his left leg. His knee buckled. He clutched at it and lost his balance. Moments later, he crashed to the floor.
Gunfire erupted from both sides of the room. It sounded like a full-scale riot. The air swished. Another light vaporized.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy yank a pistol from his belt. I grabbed my machete and ducked under his gun. My arm coiled up and I snapped a vicious fist into his ribs.
They cracked softly. He gasped for air.
I sliced my blade at his thigh. It cut through his pants. Blood seeped out of his leg. It stained his clothes, giving them a pinkish hue.
He roared in anger.
I rose up, punching at the same time. My fist connected with his jaw.
He crumpled to the ground. I started toward him but a hail of gunfire drove me backward.
I scrambled across the room. Ben swung his gun, tracking my movements. Bullets chewed at the air around me.
Jenner squeezed his trigger finger. Bullets sailed into Ben. His chest exploded. Blood flew everywhere.
"Ben." Roy scrambled across the room. "Damn it, Ben. Get up."
I crouched down and pulled Beverly off the table. Then I picked up Roy's pistol. Sweat poured from my fingers, leaving my hands a big sloppy mess. But I managed to keep hold of the weapon.
The air swished again. The last candle blew out. Cold darkness overtook every inch of the room.
A map materialized in my brain. I pictured the long table. I imagined the desks, chairs, and other pieces of furniture. I conjured up memories of wastebaskets, books, and other items dotting the floor.
Pushing away from the wall, I crept forward.
I stayed light on my toes. With each step, I expected Roy to jump out of the darkness with Ben's rifle in his hands. Before I could move, he'd fire a hail of death in my direction. But as I continued to cross the room, I saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing.
Show yourself, damn it.
My senses heightened. My visibility increased a couple of feet. I detected scuffling sounds coming from the opposite end of the room.
Is that you, Aaron?
I took cover behind a filing cabinet and peeked around the corner. I saw a hint of Ben's shadowy figure. It lay behind a table. I kept my eye on it for a few seconds.
It didn't move a muscle.
I crept toward Ben. He was huddled on the ground, surrounded by blood. I felt his pulse. Then I exhaled.
One down. One to go.
I heard a click. The door opened and bit of light entered the room. Then it closed over again.
Damn it.
I jumped to my feet and ran to the door. I twisted my head, studying every inch of the hallway.
But Roy had vanished.
Chapter 64
"What the hell happened?" Graham hobbled into the laboratory. He turned his head, taking stock of the situation.
Trotter limped in after him. His face looked pale. "Everyone okay? It sounded like World War III in here."
"Did you see Roy?" Jenner asked.
"Sure did," Graham said. "Just a second ago. He was running toward the common room. Nearly knocked me down."
Carefully, I set Beverly on the table. I placed a pillow beneath her head. Then I lifted my hand and held it over her mouth. I felt nothing.
Nervous energy flowed through me. I shifted my arm. My fingers grazed her neck. Holding my breath, I felt her pulse. But my fingers trembled and I couldn't get a read on it.
I wiped my hand on my shirt. Steeling it, I checked her pulse again. It was soft, but steady. Then I checked her breathing. This time, I felt soft air push against my hand. She'd be okay.
At least for now.
"She's fine." I nodded at the corner. "I can't say the same about Ben though."
Trotter's eyes widened. "You killed him?"
"I did. He didn't give me much of a choice." Jenner looked at Graham. "Is Roy still in the common room?"
Graham shook his head. "He ran outside."
I glanced at Graham. "Can you keep an eye on Beverly?"
He nodded.
"Lock the door behind us. Roy might try to double back." I looked at Jenner and Trotter. "Come with me."
We ran to the common room. Then we threw on our parkas and darted to the door.
I lifted my newly acquired pistol. "Stick together and keep your eyes open. He could be anywhere."
We ran outside of Kirby. Sharp wind stung my face. I raced to the vehicle shed. One of the Sno-Cats was missing.
"Damn it," Jenner said. "He got away."
"Maybe for now." Kneeling down, I studied the snow. "Next time, he won't be so lucky."
Chapter 65
"This place can't get any crazier," Graham mumbled to himself. "It's impossible."
He shut the door and locked it. Using his flashlight, he located a lighter. He quickly relit the candles. The
y flickered gently.
He returned to Beverly's side. He'd heard a lot about her over the last few weeks. Actually, he'd heard far too much. When it came to Beverly, Reed was like a broken record. Beverly did this. Beverly stole that. Damn, it was annoying.
At times, Reed had claimed to hate her. He'd even seemed to believe it. But of course, it was bullshit. Reed certainly felt strong emotions toward her.
But hate sure wasn't one of them.
Graham draped a blanket over her body. Carefully, he tucked it under her chin. He'd never actually met her. Hell, he'd never even seen her until they'd dug her out of the Sno-Cat. So, everything he knew about her was second-hand.
But he could see why Cy was so attracted to her. She wasn't all bones and straight lines like those so-called supermodels. Instead, she reminded him of a tightly toned athlete.
He studied her face. She was definitely pretty, maybe even beautiful. Still, she wasn't Liza Oliver. No sir.
There was just one Liza Oliver.
He checked Beverly's breathing. From all indications, she was fine. However, he was worried about how long she'd been unconscious. Wasn't that a bad sign?
Something creaked behind him.
His nerves tingled. He spun around.
A couple of feet away, a small section of floor started to quiver. It looked like some bizarre trick of the light.
Graham rubbed his eyes. But the floor continued to quiver. Then it lifted into the air, swinging noiselessly on a couple of hinges. A shadowy head appeared. It turned slowly, inspecting the surroundings.
Graham frowned. "Rupert?"
Rupert froze. "Dutch? What are you doing here?"
"You're popping out of the floor and you want to know what I'm doing here?"
"It's just a basement. We use it for storage." Rupert hoisted himself out of the hole. "Want to see it?"
Rupert's body language bothered Graham. He was tempted to edge toward the door. But he couldn't very well leave Beverly behind. "Tempting offer. But I'll pass."
"I insist."
"I've got to stay here." Graham nodded at Beverly. "Someone needs to keep an eye on her."
"Don't worry. She'll be fine."
"Maybe later."
Rupert reached to his belt. Then he swung his arm. Metal flashed.
A pistol slammed into Graham's forehead. He slumped to the ground.
"It might not seem like it." Rupert stepped over Graham's fallen form. "But this is for the best."
Chapter 66
"Do you believe in heaven?" The voice was soft, almost angelic.
Graham blinked. His eyes fluttered open. Everything looked blurry. "What … where …?"
He blinked again. Everything still looked blurry. It took him a few seconds to realize he was staring through some kind of thick acrylic glass. It took a few more seconds to realize the glass constituted one side of a giant vat.
A platform rested directly behind him. Holly sat on it. She dangled her legs just a few inches from his outstretched hand. "Where's Beverly? If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll—”
"Relax," Holly said. "She's fine. Now, please answer my question."
"Why the hell should I?"
"Indulge me."
He tried to stretch his arms but bindings held them tight. His legs were restrained as well. He looked down at his naked body. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble to see my birthday suit. You could've just asked."
"You're in good shape for your age. You'll make an excellent subject."
"Don't do anything stupid. Cy will look for me."
"Perhaps. But he won't find you, not down here." She smiled. "Scream. Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want. Fair warning though. This room is soundproof."
With some effort, Graham managed to lift his chin and peer over the glass. He saw a string of large metallic cylinders. Engraved brass plates were mounted on their surfaces. "Jim Peterson," he read aloud. "Say isn't that the maintenance guy?"
"Yes." Holly crossed her legs. "We cryopreserved his life."
"Cryopreserved? Wait, you froze him?"
"No, we put him into a state of suspended animation."
"What's the difference?"
"He might be legally dead, but he's still alive. Someday we'll be able to revive him."
Graham twisted his wrists and yanked. But the bindings held tight. "You can't possibly know that for certain."
Holly's gaze tightened by an almost imperceptible amount. "You still haven't answered my question. Do you believe in heaven?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because immaterial souls are a thing of fiction. They don't exist."
"You sound pretty damn sure of yourself."
"In order for an immaterial soul to exist, it has to satisfy two constraints. First, it has to exist separately from the physical body. Otherwise, it would perish upon death. And second, a soul must be the essence of a person. It must be the source of free will and decisions."
Graham gave up on the bindings.
"Here's the problem," she continued. "Once upon a time, the human mind seemed like a miraculous invention, only capable of a Higher Power. It was, in other words, the soul. But advances in neuroscience have changed that. Every emotion, thought, and memory can now be traced to brain activity or perhaps, brain structure. In other words, the brain is the true source of what theologians like to call the soul."
"That's a depressing way to look at life."
"But accurate. Intelligence, emotions, and everything that defines us are nothing more than computational processes. We aren't individuals with souls. We're boxes with wires."
"So, if there are no souls, that means Jim is gone for good."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Quite the opposite. Like I said, we cryopreserved him."
"You mean you turned him into an ice cube."
"He's not dead. But make no mistake about it. Death is the end. There's no coming back from it. It's truly eternal oblivion." Her face became soft, contemplative. "Throughout history, the idea of a soul served three purposes. It provided a pre-neuroscience explanation for the mind. It comforted people who feared death or who'd lost loved ones. And it civilized people. Without the threat of Judgment Day, society would collapse into chaos."
"You don't know death is the end."
She gave him a sad smile. "I know it's hard to hear."
"So, mental activity has a mechanical aspect to it. Big fuckin' deal. It's just an association, not a causation."
She cinched her eyes shut. "I don't follow."
"In other words, maybe brain activity doesn't cause thinking," Graham replied. "Maybe it's the other way around."
"That's ridiculous. That's …" Holly's face turned red. She quickly stood up. "This conversation is finished."
"Too bad. I was just getting started."
"Oh, you're still getting started. Just with something else."
She walked across the platform. He twisted his head in both directions, but he couldn't see what she was doing.
He heard a light splash. Then water touched his toes. He cringed as an icy feeling spread throughout his body.
"If you have anything to get off your chest, this is the time to do it. You won't get another chance for a long time." Holly smiled sweetly. "A very long time."
Chapter 67
"That's odd." Trotter released the right doorknob and tried the left one. "They're both locked."
"Don't worry. I asked Dutch to lock them." I knocked on one of the doors. "It's Cy. Open up."
A few seconds passed.
I knocked again, louder this time. "Dutch?"
Slowly, a frown worked its way across my face. I glanced at Trotter and Jenner. "He probably stepped out for a moment. Can you guys look for him? And get Pat too. He must still be sleeping."
They nodded in agreement. Then they walked quickly down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.
Lifting my fist, I pounded on the door. "Can you hear me?"
In the
distance, I heard Trotter and Jenner searching the station. Doors swung open. Shouts filled the air, growing increasingly frantic.
Unsettling thoughts nagged at my brain. Graham had complained about his failing health. Maybe he'd collapsed.
I looked at the doors. My eyes fixed on the crack between them. Then I stepped forward and kicked it with all my might. The doors burst open, crashing loudly against their doorstops.
I marched into the room.
"Dutch?" I frowned. "Beverly? Where the hell are you guys?"
There was no answer.
Trotter raced into the room. "No sign of him."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yeah."
Jenner raced into the laboratory. "He's not out there."
"He's not here either. Neither is Beverly." I exhaled. "Where's Pat?"
"He's getting dressed. He'll be here shortly."
Vague ideas and notions sprouted up in my brain. I thought hard, trying to figure out what my subconscious was trying to tell me.
I thought about the power plant and the diesel generator. I thought about Kirby and its blackouts. And I thought about Baxter's confusion over the whole situation.
Maybe the power plant wasn't the reason for those blackouts. Maybe Kirby was sucking up far more power than anyone could've ever expected.
I glanced at Trotter. "What did Pete tell you over the phone again?"
He winced at the mention of his friend's name. "That people were trying to kill him."
"Did he say how?"
"Not exactly. He just said they were experimenting on him."
"Did he say anything about the actual experiments?"
"No." He cocked his head. "Why do you ask?"
"Apparently, Kirby has a history of power outages. Maybe those experiments are the problem. They could be sucking up more than their fair share of electricity."
Jenner shook his head. "I don't know what you guys are talking about. But how's this going to help us find your friends?"
"We've got strange experiments, presumably using lots of electricity. And yet, there's no sign of these experiments anywhere. Plus, we've got two people vanishing from a locked room."
"You mean …" He looked around the dark space. "You think there's a secret room in here?"