by Jon State
“Anyway, I think rations all taste like chicken.” Gonzales laughed.
They ate their bland meals in haste, washing it all down with electro-water.
“Ready?”
“Born,” Gonzales replied, swallowing back his unease, as his mind replayed the image of the bat birds, snake, and eels that made spaghetti sauce of poor Blake.
The thick, murky glass pain had several cracks splayed across it. Efrem found a metal rod and used it as a battering ram. He stood back and slammed the glass at its center. Cracks webbed across the pain, but it held. Around them rose a dust cloud, as if in warning, adding to the cryptic unease in the air.
Gonzales noticed Efrem’s glowing red eyes and wondered if his looked the same. He traced a cross on his chest with his thick-gloved hand and kissed his fingers, “Oh Padre.” He wasn’t one to catastrophize about things, but his mind seemed to reel at the possibilities. What's coming from within the tinted window, a colony of blood-sucking bat birds, a meat-eating eel, or a flock of flying salamanders?
Efrem added weight to the next blow. The glass caved in, releasing a mournful breath, which heaved against their faces. He made a mental note to thank Lt. Pierce for the mask. The gale silenced in his ear. He gave Gonzales a two finger okay, wishing the simple face-mask had com-tech.
Efrem cleared away the mangled reinforced glass web, wondering why they strengthened it. They saw copper and color-coded pipes in every direction. Signs reading CAUTION: RADIO FREQUENCY FIELD and WARNING: CAPACITOR MAGNET hung below the tubing. A sign announcing Only Authorized Personnel Beyond This Point separated the landing from the metal ladder. Everything looked fresh, if only dusty. It was as if they’d entered another dimension or stumbled into the past.
The two men’s eyes met.
Efrem nodded, giving the go signal. He dropped to the waxed surface retrieving his sidearm in one swift movement. Gonzales was at his side, his Z-9 held at eye level.
“Efrem, what the hell is this? An alternate universe or something?” Gonzales’s muffled voice said, haunted.
“I think we never left the Twilight Zone.”
“Paint looks fresh.” Gonzales ran his finger along a thick pipe painted in bright-red.
“How is this possible?” They scarcely heard Lt. Pierce’s voice through the thick silicone wraparound mask, designed to protect the ears against organic and synthetic weaponized microbugs.
“Not sure, but here it is,” Efrem said.
“Looks like you’re in the bowels of a ship,” Lt. Pierce added.
“Let’s check it out, sir,” Efrem said. Under his feet lay a yellow, metal-grooved staircase that lead down a short distance. He unclipped the sign and let it slide off his glove. The metal steps seemed sturdy and inviting. He expected to feel uneasy, but instead, he sensed no danger. Could he step back in time, back to his old life? Did this lead back home, where things made sense? But, what had he left behind on Old Earth? He’d fled the states because he was a wanted man. After losing his family to the ‘missions’, he’d become a drunk and killed another drunk in a bar brawl. He fled to Ecuador with a friend to escape the Nectar Axer Priphorus—the NAP injection—said to be the most humane method to terminate a human life. Had it not been for Dr. Spencer and David, he’d be dust right about now.
Despite their sharp, glacier-blue lights, they could tell the entire landing was color-coded. Radio station frequencies, electrical panels, wireless junction boxes, and cabling were everywhere. They were in a massive electrical room.
They forced the door open.
Efrem peeked inside, but froze, his blood turning to ice. He felt his sanity melting away, like the time his two best friends were blown to pieces by a land mine.
Lt. Pierce gasped at the shimmering image on his screen. It glistened like a gold obelisk, shooting the LED rays aside as if they emanated from within it. “What the—” His words died away when Gonzales snatched the words from his mind.
“That's--the Empire State Building.”
Chapter 42
Incredulous
New York Territory, USC
June 12, 4067
“I’m sorry. You mean you thought you heard Brad speaking to his dead mother?” Malica said, her eyes narrowing in disbelief, her button nose remained crinkled in anticipation of his response.
“No," Aron said sternly. “I heard him, but his mouth wasn’t moving. I’ve been having these headaches and dizzy spells and…” Aron trailed off, his eyes fear-stricken.
“Go on,” Malica encouraged. She noticed his damp forehead and wondered if he’d come across some pathogen. Perhaps he imagined the voice. I’ll have to check his record for any past conditions.
“I served the union with distinction. I did things I am not proud of, but I tried to make amends. My son died during a communist bombardment in Mannheim, Germany. I took my son's death very hard, but I never fought any battle with revenge as my sole purpose. Sure, I craved it, but I knew it would only consume me, make me hate myself. I suffered from mild PTSD for a short period, but I was never labeled mentally unfit! I’m telling you, I can hear--" he stopped abruptly, his face contorting, angry tears rolled down his cheeks."
“Aron, I didn’t say I did—” Malica began, one hand outstretched and the other touching her bosom, but Aron interrupted.
“But you thought it,” he said leaning forward. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and settled back. “Look. I hear what people say in their minds. I know how that sounds, but it's the truth. Not just one but a constant barrage of voices in my head. I can prove it. You were concerned I had acquired a pathogen or that I imagined hearing the voice. You intended to check my records for any conditions.
Malica was taken aback. “I did think that and in that order.”
“I didn't want to startle you, so I started with telling you I heard one person, when it truth, I hear most of the people that are close enough. That’s why I asked you to meet me away from the camp. If I’m close to two or more people, all I get are jumbled words in no discernible order,” Aron sighed, his face pallid and his eyes weary.
“Is this the reason you assaulted Harold?” Malica said.
“Yes. He’s a stupid highbrow prick. Next time he’ll think twice before offending a Marine,” Aron said, squaring his shoulders.
“People have a right to their privacy. He thought badly of you, but did not say it,” Malica reasoned, trying to keep her mind from wandering.
“I suppose it depends if you can hear them or not,” Aron said, his eyes growing cloudy.
“I will have to take this up with Dr. Spencer. In the meantime, would you like to move your tent out further? If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re performing some tests.
“I wanted to share this with someone. I’m glad I chose you. I mean, I know Manas forced me to attend this meeting after I attacked Harold, but I was already thinking of telling someone.”
“I’ll personally bring what you need. Dr. Spencer will help, and you can trust him to be discrete.
“Thank you,” he said relieved. He had known that isolation would be the only solution and welcomed it. Solitude was a blessing compared to drowning in other people’s tumultuous thoughts. It was a bit odd, though. Malica believed him and didn’t seem that shocked. Perhaps she is so used to the Dreamers, he thought. "Are there others like Dreamers and me?" he asked before she could take a single step away.
She turned to him. “If so, none have revealed themselves, but they could be suffering in silence, afraid of what others will say or how others will view them." She paused, aligning her eyes with his. “If it makes you feel better, I believe there can be more people like you, and I think soon you’ll find out.”
"The question is--will they be welcomed…or shunned?" Aron added as he turned away, his eyes becoming dull.
***********************************
“You realize that, even if he tells me what I’m thinking, I will have a hard time believing it,” Dr. Spencer said, examining h
er features to gauge how serious she was about this man’s ability to read minds. “You are serious aren’t you?
“Yes.”
“Some gifts are one thing, but this is entirely another. This one can disrupt everyone’s life…” Dr. Spencer said, pausing to weigh the repercussions.
“That is the main reason why I’m only confiding this to you, Spence,” she said, glad to have someone help with the burden.
“How do we isolate someone like him?”
“He’s waiting for me about a hundred meters from the camp. He can’t hear anyone at that distance. It could be worse, you know? How about if there are more like him?”
That made the doctor’s eyes drift across the tent. “If there are, they may know, we know.”
"I'm not so sure. Aron said that when there are two or more people close in proximity, their words become jumbled. I suppose he would have to concentrate on a single person to make sense of it."
“I hope your right.”
“Dr. Spencer,” a familiar voice called at the door.
Dr. Spencer pressed a button to open the doors. They emitted a sigh as they spread apart. “What’s going on, Johnson?”
Private Johnson’s damp forehead shone in the bright lights. “They brought Miller back from the geo-f collecting site. My man had a bad fall.”
Two men carried Miller in on a stretcher. His face was as pale as the white sheet that covered his body.
“Perhaps we need to ground Miller. Misfortune follows him everywhere,” the doctor said, approaching Johnson.
“I heard that Doc," Miller said in his scratchy voice. His eyes remained pinched in pain. The morphine shot Johnson had administered made his tone sluggish.
“Bring him here. Where’s Lt. Pierce?” the doctor asked, as he pushed aside some tables.
“He, Efrem, Sergeant Gonzales, and six others stayed to investigate the strange sinkhole,” Johnson said, pressing the brake button on the bed.
“Well then, prepare more beds, eh?” Malica said sardonically.
"Johnson, prepare two med beds. Make one critical care." Dr. Spencer frowned, noticing Malica tapping her watch and waving her head toward the exit. Hoping no one had gotten curious as to why Aron sat outside the camp all by himself.
“How is he?” the doctor asked checking Miller’s pupils and heartbeat with his fingers.
“Miller's injuries are not life-threatening," Johnson said.
After letting Charlie 4 scan him, Dr. Spencer said, “I think you and Charlie can stabilize him and provide triage?”
Johnson’s eyes became all whites. “Come again, Doctor?”
“Charlie 4 will walk you through it.”
“What am I, Doc? Chopped liver? You leaving me with the newbie?” Miller said.
Dr. Spencer smiled and lightly placed his hand on Miller’s shoulder. “Charlie 4 is the best surgeon there is. No human can emulate him, and Specialist Johnson has attended to others in far more peril, so I leave you in great hands to deal with greater issues.”
Miller grunted and said, “You say so, but I’m hurtin’ from head to toes.” He shifted and winced as if to confirm his statement.
“He ricocheted off a dozen things. He was fortunate—had it been a strait drop, he wouldn’t be here to bitch about anything,” said one of the men that brought him in.
The doctor smiled. “I’ll be back to check on you soon.” He nodded to Malica and followed her into the dusky night.
Chapter 43
Alphas
New York Territory, USC
June 12, 4067
The blue light shone back gold, like a lost treasure, like a monolith found in some ancient catafalque.
Lt. Pierce started breathing again. “That’s impossible.”
Efrem removed his mask on instinct and sniffed the air. “The Empire State Building, it sure looks like what I remember from a few tours there,” Efrem said.
Gonzales tugged at Efrem’s shoulder. “Mask,” he muffled, gesturing frantically.
“Smells okay.”
Gonzales broke his mask’s seal, but only enough to take a whiff. “The computer is reading methane and carbon monoxide in the air,” he said but removed the mask anyway, sweat flowing from the plastic seam.
“Tolerable parameters," Efrem confirmed.
“We’re getting the mother-load of headaches from this. Now, what the hell is going on? This place looks intact. I see some debris and wear, but very little." Gonzales crossed himself once more and this time kissed his fingers audibly. “Reminds me of a movie I once saw, where the main actor remained stuck in the past, in some old building that looked the same as he’d seen it as a kid.”
“You unlock this door with the key of imagination… Welcome, to the Twilight Zone,” Efrem said, waving his arms up and out.
“What the freak, man. I’ve been here many times. They started sending us up here when I attended P.S. fifteen. School trips were fun, but I toured Rockefeller Center and The Empire State Building so many times that things got pretty lame by the time I got to high school." He paused, eyes darting in all directions, taking it all in. “You're right. This is the Twilight Zone," Gonzales said, taking a cautious step toward the double doors as if they would burst open in any second and swallow him.
Efrem surveyed the surreal hall. He stood before the shimmering golden doors, removed his glove, and ran his fingers over the cold-etched metal. “Shit on me. We landed on top of the Empire State, so that means we’re walking on top of the island of Manhattan.” He looked back at Gonzales, who looked a shade paler. “One of the Dreamers came to me yesterday, said I’d find a unicorn. I asked him what the hell he meant. He said that, in his last few visions, I kept finding a huge unicorn. Said, I was inside it. I asked if I tasted good. He paid me no attention and walked away with spooked eyes.”
Gonzales seemed not to be listening. "Wait, how could this be the Empire State building? I didn’t see the long antenna.”
“Probably broke off. The damn thing had to lose something during these past twenty centuries.”
"Yeah, you're right man, I found it impossible when we crossed into New York but to be on top of the Empire State building... This shit’s about a hundred plus floors high! This doesn’t make sense,” Gonzales said, reaching out beside Efrem and poking the door as if it would disappear at any moment.
“The pipe tangle we crossed show we're over New York property, but this isn’t one for us. We’ll let the think techs deal with it.” He coughed into his glove. “Let’s see if the stairs are intact,” Efrem said but expected to find a wall of dirt on the other side of the door.
“Hold on.” Gonzales looked at him wild-eyed. He looked down and paused his finger above the elevator button, which was encased in a miniature model of the building.
“You’re joking, right?”
“How can you doubt it? We’re standing on top of one of the tallest buildings in the world, which is supposed to be a gazillion miles away from Manta and at least two thousand years old. I think the time for being skeptical is over.” He pressed the button—nothing happened. “Hey, you never know,” Gonzales said, frowning at Efrem.
“Let’s just say a lot’a shit happened during the two G’s we were mummified,” Efrem said, slapping Gonzales on the arm as if to wake him up.
“I’m chill. I mean, after walking trees, nothing should faze me, right?”
“Right,” Efrem agreed, moving toward the nearest exit sign. He looked to his left and noticed he could see black windows without the need of his lamplight. The images were coming to him as if he wore a night vision aide. He swallowed at the thought that perhaps they were dead and in some afterlife, or the Hell his religious mother was always raving about. He strained his neck further and could see Gonzales’s diffused face. He shut his eyes when Gonzales waved his beam closer to his position, the light seemed brighter and made his eyes hurt. He ran his hand over his brow and tried to convince himself that there had to be a logical explanation for all of this.
They found the exit door and had to force it open. The corridor was clear.
“You think it’s time to head back and gather a well-equipped team,” Lt. Pierce asked through the COM. He was as shell-shocked as the two men. "I don't think our claim is going anywhere.”
“Roger that, sir, but the Dreamer said something else.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I would find the rider of the unicorn, as well. Said the rider seemed too short for the unicorn, but now I know there's no way he could've guessed what his vision meant," Efrem said.
“I’ve learned to trust the Dreamers, but did he happen to mention if this rider was friendly?” the lieutenant asked.
“Negative, but I have a feeling he is. Don’t ask me how I know.”
The lieutenant sighed over the COM. “Roger. Continue, but if you start sensing danger, I want you both out of there ASAP. That’s an order.”
“Copy that.” Efrem leaned into the marble landing. It felt as stable as it looked. He bought his light up and saw the metal spider web arching overhead through a massive hole. The metal had sealed the ground above. How convenient, Gonzales thought.
Gonzales followed. "You think its wide open to the bottom? Or did it collapse and we're on the top-half?" The calmness around them made him scan every corner with his lamp.
“Only one way to find out.” Efrem reached for the railing and peered down. The handles from each landing spiraled into the black abyss, where his light refused to go. “Seems intact.”
“That’s insane. The pressure of this much ground should’ve crushed the thing,” Gonzales said, shaking his head.
“The shifting of tectonic plates alone should have pulverized it,” Lt. Pierce added.
“We’ll tether to each other and keep a safe distance. Think safety.” Gonzales said.
“Roger that, Sarge.”
“You know that technically you outrank the LT and me?" Sergeant Gonzales said as he removed a green rope from his backpack, along with three carabiner hooks. He handed one end of the line to Efrem along with a carabiner hook.