Mr. Sandman: A Thrilling Novel

by Lyle Howard

  Xavier pulled his hands away from his face revealing his exposed derma. Much the same way that the twisting path of a river separates two land masses, a jagged ribbon of emerald-colored scales diagonally divided the skin on the doctor’s face. The supple-looking green undercoating ran from the spot on his neck where Carpenter had first torn it free, up across his left cheek and over his left eye where the flesh was intact again above the brow. It was a hideous abomination to behold. “Sssso, now you know the entire truth!”

  Carpenter pushed himself away on the floor until his back was pressed up against the metal desk. He figured that he must have received a slight concussion when he fell to the ground because he was having a hard time focusing his vision and his entire body was racked with soreness. He rubbed his head, trying to clear the nest of cobwebs from his mind. His eyesight was still a blur, but he could feel the presence of the doctor bearing down on him once again. “Nice skin, Doc! It’s no wonder you’re always hissing your Ss. I guess you should be thankful that it’s not just a speech impediment, huh?”

  Xavier reached down and grabbed the captain by his hair, dragging him to his feet. “I’m through listening to your wisecracks, Captain!” With very little effort, the doctor hoisted Carpenter above his head and prepared to toss him through the office window.

  It was at that critical instant that the leading edge of the Hurricane hit the base, and the roof of the hangar was sheared away from its trusses.

  Technicians were thrown around the hangar like dice on a craps table. The lucky ones that weren’t electro­cuted by being hurled against the computer equipment that was shorting out were either pulverized under pieces of collapsed machinery or torn limb from limb by flying metal debris whizzing around the hangar like the blades of a blender.

  “Take Julie and get the hell out of here!” Lance screamed.

  Abe and Julie were both clinging to the railing beneath the stairwell. “I’m not leaving here without you, Lance!” the detective yelled back, trying futilely to be heard over the howling of the wind and rain.

  Lance could feel his feet trying to leave the ground as the wind swirled around the hangar. “You’ve got to get her to that bunker that Carpenter told us about! It’s your only chance!”

  Downed power lines sparked across the hangar floor a cluster of electrified snakes performing a mating ritual until they shorted out. Now the light from a single flood lamp, powered by a small gasoline generator, was the only light remaining in the building. Hurricane Andrew had finally arrived, descending upon the Air Force base and South Florida with all of the pent-up fury nature had to unleash.

  Julie held her face down to keep the driving rain from stinging her eyes. The sedative the doctor had given her earlier was wearing off, but her legs were still shaky. “I won’t go without you, Lance!”

  Lightning hit somewhere nearby the hangar and all three of them braced themselves for the thunderous reverberation that would immediately follow. When it hit, Julie released her grip on the railing, but Lincoln caught her.

  “Get her out of here, Abe! The storm’s only going to get worse!”

  Lincoln tried to wipe the rain out of his eyes, but all of his sloppy effort was ineffective. With the free hand that he wasn’t holding Julie with, the detective pointed to the office three flights above their heads. “Let him go, Lance! He’ll never survive the Hurricane!”

  From somewhere across the hangar, a workman came sliding along the slippery concrete floor, clawing to make any sort of headway against the commanding wind. As the gale blew the man past them, Lance could see that the helpless technician was struggling with something at his throat. Julie was the first to notice that it was a thick length of copper pipe that had pierced his neck like a set of handlebars. When the man opened his mouth in a vain attempt to scream, blood gushed out instead of words. Julie closed her eyes to ward off the gruesome sight. When she opened them again a moment later, he was gone.

  Lance looked up through the metal stairs at the window on the third level. “I’m the only one who can stop him, Abe! Now, get her out of here!”

  Lincoln nodded to him. “Let’s go, Julie!”

  She held fast to the railing. ‘No … I won’t leave!” Lance turned her face to his. “We’ve been through too much to let it end like this, Jules! Go with Abe! I’ll be alright, I promise!”

  Julie let go of the railing and wrapped her arms around Lance’s neck. “You better come back to me, do you hear me?”

  Rain flowed over their lips as they kissed for possibly the last time. “No time for any one-liners, Jules. Remember that I love you!” he whispered in her ear.

  Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks. “I love you, too!”

  Lance looked deep into Abe Lincoln’s concerned face. “You take good care of my girl, you big galoot!”

  Lincoln flashed him a thumbs-up. Without warning, a blast of powerful wind blew out the front portion of the hangar. The aluminum wall teetered in place for a moment, and then fell backwards, crushing Lance’s Chrysler beneath it. Lance pointed at the new opening. “That’s your way out!”

  Lincoln nodded. “Let’s go, Julie, come on!” Julie stared into Lance’s violet eyes as he wiped the dripping water from her face. “You’ve got to go now!”

  Julie let go of the railing and grabbed Lincoln’s arm. Together, they struggled forward, out into the darkness, their heads bowed to the wailing wind and pounding rain, con­fronting the awesome force of the most powerful hurricane to hit the state of Florida in nearly twenty-seven years.

  Lance was almost to the second-floor landing, when he heard the window disintegrate just above him. He turned his face away from the barrage of shattering glass, but only being protected by a drenched t-shirt and shorts, the razor-sharp fragments tore into him with an unmerciful vengeance. With the imprecision of a blindfolded surgeon, the slivers sliced and skewered his body at every conceivable angle, shredding his exposed skin like a bullwhip.

  Instantly following the deluge of glass, a large indistinct form plunged through the opening where the office window had been. The awkward heap collided with the first-floor railing, landing with a sickening thud, and then its momen­tum caused it to tumble down the last fifteen steps, coming to rest at the base of the stairwell. When he looked down, Lance knew immediately what it was.

  Carpenter’s legs were sprawled out in an unnatural pose. One arm was bent backward at the elbow, while the other was folded behind his back. His head was twisted and his face was expressionless. Blood and gore spread from a fissure in his crushed skull and onto the wet concrete floor.

  Lance glanced down at the mangled body and then up to the floor above him. He had only known the captain through their brief conversation over the phone the previous night, but Abe had vouched for him, calling him a “straight-shooter.” Lance didn’t have to be reminded how much courage it had taken for both Captain Carpenter and Abe Lincoln to disre­gard their direct orders and to follow what they believed was the honorable course of action. Lance recited a quick prayer to himself as he gazed down on Carpenter’s slaughtered form. There was no doubt in Lance’s mind that the captain had gone to a better place.

  There were swift footsteps on the metal grating overhead.

  If it was theoretically possible for every siren in the northern hemisphere to sound off in unison, that cacophony couldn’t rival the intensity of the warning signal going off in Lance’s head at this very moment. He had never felt it so fierce nor so focused in his entire life. His head snapped upward toward the approaching figure like his eyes were magnetized to it.

  “Where are you, Cutter?” came the scream. The voice was nonhuman, sounding more like gargling than pronuncia­tion. “It’s just the two of usss now, Cutter, you and me … the way it ssshould be.”

  Lance looked down at the gashes on his arms and legs, blood from his wounds mixed with the rain water, flowing like streams of pink lemonade over his white sneakers. His eyes darted back and forth around the demolished hangar.
Lance had no concept of what kind of creature he was dealing with here, but if he was going to have any chance at all to survive, it would have to be with all of his capabilities at full strength. He bent his face downward and removed his blue lenses, letting them blow away in the squall. Immediately, his surroundings became more intelligible. He could see through the curtain of rain with the clarity of a cloudless day. The single floodlight that lit the hangar now shone with the brightness of a klieg light.

  Lance flinched as Xavier leapt like a cat over the third-floor railing, rolled out of his tucked position in midair, and landed gracefully on the hangar floor, thirty feet below. The hurricane-force winds didn’t seem to bother him. He was barefoot, and the soft pads on his feet gripped the wet ground like a natural amphibian. Slowly, vigilantly, his amber eyes scanned the devastation around him. “Where are you, Cutter?” he hissed, “I can feel you … I know you are ssstill here!”

  Lance waited and watched from his secluded perch on the metal landing.

  To Xavier’s left, there came a weak moaning sound. The doctor turned to find his young assistant, Jensen, pinned beneath a toppled computer console.

  “Doctor Xavier … thank God … please, help me….” Xavier stood over him and grinned. “Where does it hurt, ssson?”

  Jensen’s closed his eyes against the pain. “I think … my back is broken … I can’t feel anything in my legs…”

  The doctor bent over and gently cradled the young man’s head in his hands. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  Jensen smiled thankfully. “You’re a saint, Doctor….”

  With a sudden flick of his wrists, Xavier twisted Jensen’s neck. It cracked with the sound of a snapping twig. “Anytime, ssson … anytime.”

  Lance cringed at the sharp noise. His stomach gurgled with nausea, and he had to cover his mouth to hold back the tidal wave of bile rising in his throat.

  Watching the doctor’s merciless exhibition, it dawned on Lance that it wasn’t only his surroundings that had suddenly become so crystal clear … it was this whole situation. Like a light bulb blinking on in cartoon bubble above his head, Lance finally thought he understood.

  Perhaps the late Doctor Adolph Xavier, in an ironic twist of fate, had succeeded in creating two coldblooded proto­types. By the mere definition of the word, Xavier had attained his goal. One specimen was physically endowed with the extraordinary abilities the doctor had strived for, the other, a mutation, due to the fact that it had been the product of an earlier and less knowledgeable experiment. Born psycho­logically ruthless, but both coldblooded.

  The doctor moved warily about the hangar. He unbut­toned his drenched suit jacket and let the wind take it. The garment was swept up and out into the night, like it had been sucked through a giant vacuum hose. “Ssshow yourself, Cutter!”

  Electric power to the city of Homestead and the Air Force base was a thing of the past. The meager light coming from the inside of the hangar flickered like a dying ember in the dark shadow cast by Hurricane Andrew. Anything that wasn’t bolted down soared out of the front of the hangar like it was shot from a cannon. This wreckage included machinery, furniture, computer equipment … and body parts.

  The time had come for Lance to make a move. His destiny, and his freedom, were waiting for him in the center of the hangar, amid the rubble and debris … looking for him … taunting him. This reptilian thing was science at its worst, a despicable experiment gone terribly wrong. Lance was ashamed to be a part of it, but the killing and running had to end here.

  THIRTY EIGHT

  It was almost impossible for Abe or Julie to make any headway in the storm. Seeing Abe hunched over and fighting to continue his forward pace against the powerful squalls was like watching a street mime doing a pathetic impression of walking against the wind.

  Behind him, Julie tried to use Abe’s body as a buffer against the gales, her long red hair flapping after her like a wet scarf on a World War I aviator. With all the tendons in her slim wrist straining to maintain a firm grip, she clung to the detective’s coattail for fear of losing him in the dark. The light from the hangar was now only a distant flicker to her left, not nearly casting enough light to penetrate the wall of rain that seemed to be swallowing the two of them alive.

  “Watch your step!” Lincoln hollered. “There’s potholes all over this field … I don’t want you spraining an ankle out here!”

  Julie cupped her free hand around her mouth. “A sprained ankle is the last thing I’m worried about, Abe! I just don’t want to be hit by lightning … I’m scared shitless of lightning!”

  Lincoln shielded his face from the stinging spray. “Just keep moving!”

  “Where? Where are we headed?” Earth-shaking thunder boomed all around them. “Jee-zuz Christmas! This is nuts!” he protested. Julie thought Abe was saying something, but his face was turned into the wind and his voice was drowned out. “Where are we headed, Abe?”

  With Julie hanging onto his jacket, Abe felt like an ox pulling a plow through a wheat field. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer. “The bunker’s on the other end of the runway!”

  Julie turned her head back toward the hangar. Something was happening. “What’s that noise?”

  “What?”

  Julie yanked on Abe’s coat for him to stop. “What’s that noise?”

  Abe stood in place trying to catch his breath and straining his ears to listen. “What is that?”

  Julie shielded her eyes from the darts of rain hitting her face. “I’m asking you!”

  The detective cocked his head to one side. “It sounds like a train!”

  Julie tried to wipe the water from her eyes, but in a losing effort. “Why would a train be running during a storm like this?”

  Lincoln was the first to see it. Out past the east end of the runway. Like a giant, twisted tendril reaching down from the sky, a grey funnel cloud bounced along the tarmac, devour­ing the earth and digesting it upwards into the dark belly of the hurricane. “Oh my God!”

  Julie’s mind had suddenly gone numb. “What do we do, Abe?”

  Lincoln quickly appraised their desperate situation … they were out in the middle of nowhere, unable to run, and totally unfamiliar with the surrounding area. “I’m thinking!”

  The sound grew louder as the turbid outline of the tornado expanded into a hideously shaped spout.

  Julie instinctively ducked behind the detective, the way a shy child would hide behind its mother’s leg. “You’d better think fast, Abe! I’d say we have less than a minute to do something!”

  There was nowhere to go … nowhere to hide. “Get down!”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lincoln pushed her to the soaked turf. “Hell no, I’m not sure! You got a better idea?”

  Together they lay face down, motionless, as though the cyclone would know to come after them if they were to run from it. The sound of it as it advanced toward them was becoming deafening.

  “Can you still see it?” Lincoln yelled. “I don’t want to look up!”

  Lincoln turned his head to look. “I can’t see it!”

  Julie raised her head to peer over the Detective’s beefy torso. “Where did it go? I can still hear it!”

  Lincoln looked beyond his feet. “There it is! The damned thing’s changed directions … it’s heading toward the han­gars!”

  Julie yelled. “Lance!”

  Lincoln pulled her to her feet. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here before it doubles back!”

  Hangar seven was the first to go. It blew apart just like someone had driven a truckload of plastic explosives into the building and detonated it. Chunks of shrapnel and debris were hurled into the heavens, caught up in the wrath of the whirlwind.

  Julie was frozen in fear.

  “Let’s go, Julie! We’ve got to keep moving!”

  Julie screamed to be heard over the howling wind. “Lance is still out there!”

  Lincoln began tugging on her arm. “Lance is
a grown man! He can take care of himself! He wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of him, now come on!”

  Hangar six was next on the twister’s agenda, but this building wasn’t empty. One of the two F-16s that had been grounded for major maintenance was strapped down to concrete floor. When the tornado collided with the hangar, the bindings tore loose and the plane flipped over on its canopy and burst into flames. The concussion from the ensuing explosion knocked both Abe and Julie off of their feet.

  With a cop’s impulse, and with only Julie’s preservation and safety in mind, Lincoln had fallen on top of her. “Are you alright?”

  Julie lifted her face, which was half-covered in mud. “I think so.”

  Lincoln wiped away the sediment from her features. “I think it’s moving away from us!”

  She turned back to look. “That means Lance will be okay!”

  The detective helped her to her feet. “At least until the next one comes along!”

  Julie staggered to keep her balance. “The winds are getting stronger!”

  Lincoln nodded. “I don’t even think we’ve seen the tip of the iceberg yet! The winds are the strongest around the hurricane’s eye!” He could feel his voice turning raspy over the howling of the storm. “I’m pretty sure that the eye is still offshore, but these damned clouds are moving awfully fast!”

  “How long?” Julie screamed.

  “Maybe an hour … an hour and a half, tops!”

  The vision of the exploding hangar was still fresh in Julie’s mind. “So that’s all the time Lance has?”

  Lincoln put his arm around her shoulder and led her across the tarmac. “I’m not sure that anyone can survive out here in the open against two-hundred-mile-an-hour winds, but if anyone has a shot at it, it would have to be Cutter!”

  Julie let the detective wrap his drenched jacket around her. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

  Hot lightning crackled across the eastern horizon like a strobe lamp, momentarily illuminating their discouraged faces.

  “You want me to be an honest injun?”