“I believe you are weakening.”
Will avoided the stranger’s eyes, staring at those damned perfect teeth. He imagined what a solid swing with a tire iron would do to those pearly whites. His ghosts were raving, shrieking obscenities. The stranger was right; the leg holding Will up was weakening. Then he made the mistake of looking at the stranger’s eyes.
“You are going to give in to me now,” the stranger said. His voice had softened, and his eyes were huge and warm, radiating calm. “You must do it. I must do it. You must. I must.”
The stranger’s words became a rapid chant. “youmustimustyoumustimust.”
“Yeah,” Will said, wondering why he was fighting so hard. “Yeah, I should quit it.”
The stranger smiled and said, “This will be delicious.”
Having finally seen and heard enough, Will let go and let his ghosts take over completely, leaving him far behind.
The stranger seemed uncertain of this latest turn of events. He watched Will’s pupils expand as if they were reflecting some explosive trauma to the brain. The stranger cocked an eyebrow as saliva spilled out of Will’s mouth, and for the first time, the impish grin that lurked behind every word vanished as the stranger displayed some concern. He noticed that Will’s penis was hardening now, even as his own wilted and he felt the hands that he had been mercilessly crushing with his own become firm, then immobile, and then he felt his own hands being squeezed with relentless force.
For Will, the brief fight that followed seemed to occur at a great distance, as if he were watching a title bout from the cheap seats. He saw one knee drive into the stranger’s oversized scrotum again and heard harsh crackling music as bones in the man’s fingers shattered. The man opened his mouth and cried out, a cry that sounded to Will like a faraway impotent squeak. The dark-skinned man went down on his knees, the tip of his long, partially engorged penis flopping on the wet tiles. The stranger made a mighty effort to stand and bellowed when he discovered Will was standing on the head of his prick and holding him down. As the man sank to his knees again Will gripped the stranger’s wrists and began pulling up with every bit of strength he had, ignoring the stranger’s horrified yodeling as the man’s dong, still trapped under Will’s foot, was stretched taut and then torn away from his groin with a rubbery snap.
Will stepped back, letting the man fall to the floor. A weak hand with horribly disjointed fingers groped for the detached organ. The stranger’s blue blood mixed with the water spraying from the shower heads and swirled down the nearest drain. Seeing his own erection give three mighty jerks and watching his ejaculate spatter across the head and shoulders of the huddled stranger, Will felt nothing.
The stranger looked up, his face twisted with rage and shame. “We will meet again,” he snarled. “We will clash and you shall be cast into a darkness from which you shall not see nightfall of the new millennium!”
Yeah, whatever, his ghosts responded.
Will’s ghosts didn’t release him until he had dressed, left the club, and walked halfway down the block to his car. By then most of his encounter with the stranger had faded from his mind, and he was left with a feeling that something unpleasant had happened while he was in the shower.
17
All About Eve
Mondani and Tupper and Dolan couldn’t find Will and Jeannie and Betsy on any monitors because the fugitives were in Mondani’s office. Mondani did such highly sensitive work his office was the only one in the facility that was free of cameras. He wanted to be able to keep an eye on everyone, so he had hidden cameras everywhere, even in Tupper’s office and Godson’s near-empty room. All Tupper ever seemed to do was piddle around with his laptop, showing Mondani that the youngster was a true geek, but also trustworthy. As for Godson, the only image the cameras planted in his room produced was a gray haze. Mondani had inspected and replaced the cameras countless times but they never seemed to function properly.
Will had been leading Jeannie and Betsy through a narrow access corridor he had discovered while searching for the women. The walls were poured concrete under hissing and gurgling pipes and electrical conduits. They came to an unmarked door. Will opened the door into a wide hallway with a non-skid rubberized coating on the floor. There were signs on the walls, but most of them were jumbles of letters and numbers over directional arrows. Ahead was another heavier door. It was locked, as he discovered when he tried his access card.
“What’s in there?” Betsy asked.
“Probably a lab,” Will said. “That door is designed to be air-tight.”
Betsy looked confused. “So, why go there?”
Will shrugged. “I thought I’d take a quick peek. See what’s in there. Get an idea of what they’re up to. I need to get you two out of here, but I’ve gotten tired of these clowns fucking up my life. Maybe we can find some way to keep them off our backs.”
The door appeared to be solid. It was steel, with rounded corners, and it was lined with a thick rubber gasket. Betsy was about to ask how long they were going to stand here when a green light began flashing by the keycard slot. With a pneumatic wheeze the door slid open.
Jeannie and Betsy darted backward. Will simply stood where he was, slouching, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans.
The door opened wide, the metal panel retreating into the wall. A woman took one step out and froze. She was wearing a white lab coat. Plastic goggles were pushed up onto her forehead. Her foot, in a plastic bootie, made no sound as it came down. She was about fifty. With her hair in a bun under a clear plastic cap, she looked like a schoolteacher. She saw Will and reacted instantly, turning, leaning back and reaching for something on her side of the door.
Jeannie felt like she was watching some brutish stranger as Will grabbed the woman’s arm and twisted, spinning her around and pulling her close, almost as if they were dancing. One of his wiry forearms went around her neck. The woman’s plastic booties left the floor as she was lifted and crushed against Will’s chest. Her feet kicked as he placed the palm of his free hand against the back of her head and pushed hard. Jeannie heard a muted crackle, as if the woman had bitten down on a crunchy pickle. Then her feet were hanging limp.
“Let’s go,” Will said over his shoulder.
He set the dead woman down inside the doorway as Jeannie and Betsy followed. Will saw what the woman had been reaching for; a metal switch-plate that would open or close the door from the inside. He pressed it and the door closed, wheezing like an old man bending over to pick up a dropped dime. It wasn’t a room on this side of the door; the door was an access point for a secure area.
Betsy admired the pretty-boy’s technique. He was one scary motherfucker, pun intended. If she was going to do him, she’d be better off keeping her distance and using a gun.
Jeannie was looking at Will’s arms. Just last night those arms had been holding her, those hands had been touching her, making her feel like she’d never felt before. Now those same limbs had crushed the life out of someone.
“Did you have to kill her?”
Will looked at Jeannie, distressed to see that the love of his life was staring at the dead woman, her face both saddened and horrified. He touched Jeannie’s chin, raised her face to meet his. Those big blue eyes were swimming with the beginnings of tears. She was so beautiful, and so distraught.
“Listen, kitten,” he said, “No one working in this lab is a summer intern. They’re in, and they’re in deep. It’s people like her, even the ones who look like kindly old schoolmarms straight out of the Little House books, who are responsible for creating you, and for making me turn out the way I did. Maybe I should have died at birth. Maybe you should never have been born at all. But they brought us into this world and made our lives hell. I think we should get in there and find out if they are creating more kids who will only have to suffer the kind of childhood you and I went through . . . and maybe someday we can do something about it.”
“You’re right,” Jeannie said. “I just hate it whe
n . . . when bad things have to happen. I want things to be nice. Sounds pretty stupid, huh?”
“Not at all, sugar,” Will replied. “Maybe one day we can get to a place where we can live out that fairy tale together. But until then you’re probably gonna see a lot more bad stuff.”
Kitten. Sugar. Betsy knew that if she had to hear much more talk like that she was going to vomit. Her mom kept looking at the pretty boy with goo-goo eyes again. If any guy ever called her kitten she’d claw his balls to bloody strands.
Will turned to study their surroundings. They were at the junction of three corridors. One went straight. The others curved left and right. On the left-hand wall was an arrow and the words Biomech R&D. To the right was R&D Records. Down the corridor ahead was another metal sliding door nestled in a rubber gasket. A plaque read Bio R&D.
“That’s where we’re going,” Will said.
* * *
Brian had been fiddling with the CB radio and three cell phones in the news van, cursing and swearing when he found nothing worked.
Ravi nudged him. “Check it out.”
It was the big sheriff and the younger guy who wasn’t much more than a kid. They were humping across the dim spaces of the autoport and heading for the cop’s patrol car. They were being led by an old guy dressed like a surgeon. All three of them looked like they’d been through a lot.
The sheriff was holding up a gun. Brian thought if he didn’t act quickly he might get a bullet between the eyes. He stepped out of the van, both hands empty and held high.
“Easy, officer,” Brian said. “If you guys are trying to find a way out of here then that puts us all on the same side.”
Al half-carried Carlos closer to the van, still wary, keeping his gun on the tall guy with the big hair. Another man came out of the van with a video camera perched on his shoulder like a second head. His free hand was in the air.
“You getting this?” Brian asked.
“You’re on, hot-shot,” Ravi replied.
Al watched as the reporter lowered his hands, offering one in greeting. Al wondered how he was supposed to shake hands with a gun in one mitt and Carlos in the other.
“Brian Hanus, Channel Three News,” he said, turning to face the camera. “I am reporting from a secret government installation deep in the California Desert. Myself and a half-dozen other American citizens, including this San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Deputy, have been abducted and held against our will since discovering this—”
“Hold on,” Al said. The Goddamned media, they were everywhere! “Son, turn that camera off.”
Ravi waited until Brian gave him a reluctant nod. He stopped taping.
Al took a quick look around the autoport and then lowered his gun. “I think we all need to play a round of who’s who,” he said.
* * *
Will’s keycard worked on the next door. He led Jeannie and Betsy through and down another hallway with a rubberized floor. They passed many airtight sliding doors marked with large signs. Genetics: Analysis. Genetics: Cut & Paste. Genetics: Library. Surrogate Receiving & Fertilization. Maternity & Nursery. Dormitory Seven (Schoolhouse West).
Beyond were a series of office doors, wooden doors with tiny brass plates on them. Biodatabank. Information Resources. Biosecurity. Dr. Lawrence Tupper. Dr. Mark Mondani.
Having just passed the closed door to the security station where Mondani, Tupper, and Dolan were searching for them, Will and Betsy walked to the end of the hall.
Will tapped the nameplate on Mondani’s door. “I want to take a quick look in here.” He looked back and saw that Jeannie had stopped halfway down the hall, in front of the door marked Schoolhouse West. When he reached Jeannie’s side he saw what she was looking at; a drawing in crayon on a dog-eared piece of foolscap was taped to the lower half of the door.
“Oh, Will, they’ve got children in there. We should—”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Will said. “It may not be too late for them but it would be too risky for us.” Jeannie was about to protest when Will hunkered down. “Take a close look at this drawing.” She squatted beside him. “How old do you think the kid was who did this, four, five?”
“More like six,” Jeannie said.
“Whatever. Look at what the kid drew. That half of a blue and green ball, well that’s most likely the Earth. See how the kid drew that green blob that looks like North America? That thing that looks like a diseased appendage can only be Florida, and near the opposite coast is a gray spiny ridge. The Rockies.”
Now Betsy was looking over their shoulders. “It could also be a dinosaur. Like, I don’t know, a stegosaurus.” She tilted her head to one side. “It’s a stegosaurus standing up to its knees in water, with its wang hanging out.”
“Betsy!” Jeannie said, sounding undeniably mom-like.
Will gave his head a little shake and said to Jeannie, “I bet your kid could have a field day with a Rorschach test.”
“Why don’t you fucking eat me?” Betsy asked.
Jeannie gasped. “Honestly!”
“Anyhow,” Will said, “Those boxes with lines coming out of them? Hovering over the world? They’re children, right? I doubt any of them have hair that sticks straight up like needles, or teeth that make up most of their cranial mass, but I’d say these are definitely crayon kids. So . . . We have these kids, probably the kids in Schoolhouse West, hovering over the Earth like they own it, or are somehow greater than it, and that figure in the background? Dressed all in white and towering over the kids and the Earth? Unless God has taken to wearing a lab coat, I’d say that’s a doctor. And you can rule out Tupper because the figure is skinny and has a big nose. So what we have here is a drawing of Doctor Mondani and his children. Ruling the world.”
Jeannie was going to reply that Will was the one being ridiculous now, when she paused and looked at the drawing again.
“Jesus,” Betsy whispered. “That’s creepy.”
“Besides,” Will said. “We couldn’t run with kids in tow. They’ll slow us down.”
Together they moved down the hall. The door to Mondani’s office had a simple lock. They couldn’t know that as an authority second only to Randall Kraft, Mondani could literally have an employee at Compound West put to death for any kind of security breach, including snooping in his office. Everyone in the facility was well aware the room was off limits. Will put his shoulder to the door and it popped open.
Once inside, they closed the door. All agreed that the original artwork on the walls was probably expensive, and inexcusably ugly. Along two walls were locked steel filing cabinets. Mondani’s expansive desk and the credenza behind it were covered with stacked reports and bundles of computer printouts. Will started shuffling through one of the stacks. Jeannie took another.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“Anything that will give us an idea what they’re up to as far as the schoolhouse goes. Reports on cloning programs, weapons projects, anything like that. Juicy stuff.”
Betsy watched Will and her mother leafing through the piles of crap on the big desk. She flopped into a chair, not really giving a shit what they found. As long as she got out of here in one piece and got a chance to do Mr. Cool in front of her mom, she didn’t care what the clowns running this place were up to.
Jeannie saw her daughter lounging. “Sweetie, you could help us with this.”
“Don’t call me sweetie, mother,” Betsy said, making no effort to get up.
“Jeez,” Will said.
Will found dozens of reports on mechanical and biological weapons systems and opened one, finding a schematic of mechanical male genitals; a synthetic pecker that passed acid and explosive testicles dubbed grenadicles. Will shook his head. The technical jargon in the reports was so dense that he soon left them alone.
Jeannie held up a small book. “What about this?” Will took it and examined a few pages. It appeared to be a journal, bound in leather that showed years of wear.
“This thing belon
gs to Mondani,” Will said. “He used to sign off on some of my psych evaluations back East when I was a guest of the Compound. See how the pen has almost punctured the paper in spots? I’d recognize that cramped, anal hand anywhere.”
Will quickly scanned a few more pages at random. “Man, he must have gone through Zane’s files after he got put in charge. He’s got notes on everything in here. Me as a kid. You as a kid. The search for you after Eicher took you. My escapes from the Compound. I guess they were pretty pissed.” Will flipped to the most recent notes, at the end of the journal. “He must have written this last night . . . Whoa! It looks like you were just the tip of the iceberg, honeybunch. He wants to slice and dice my brain. And he wants your little girl too.” He nodded at Betsy while handing the open journal to Jeannie.
Betsy looked concerned, and went to her mother’s side.
Will watched their faces while they read. With Jeannie’s hair dyed black, they looked so much alike it was spooky. He as watched, identical tiny frown lines creased their foreheads. The mother bit her lower lip, left of center. Betsy did the same as they read the single page of the journal, which was filled with scribbled notes.
“Jeannie, do you ever get sick? Spring sniffles, the flu, allergies, anything like that?”
She looked at Will and shook her head, then continued reading.
Me either, Betsy thought, not saying anything to either of them.
The notes in the book were rushed, manic, ecstatic, seeming to be short bursts of Mondani’s train of thought.
William Hill in custody. Euthanize.
Retain brain for detailed analyses of cryo damage and degree of recovery.
Jeannie Norman in custody. Preliminary examination results fascinating!
Made in the U.S.A.: The 10th Anniversary Edition Page 37