Soul Suites

by Hulden Morse

  The entire scenario was petrifying. At any moment he expected a shadowy figure to come racing out of the darkness to murder them. Even the doors, heavy, metal, with a small window in each one, were foreboding in the darkness. The building would have felt abandoned had it not been for the siren sounding from every direction, which gave the area more of an apocalyptic feel than a haunting aura.

  Without hesitation, Charles flung the doors open and saw the outline of a large machine in the center of the room. There was a dark figure motionless in the middle of the contraption who he instantly knew to be Damian. He hoped that since the power went out not long after his roommate was placed in the cylinder, the freezing mechanism had ceased operation and the trial was prevented from reaching its completion. However, that also meant that the device providing oxygen for his friend may have malfunctioned as well, drowning the man unintentionally.

  He grabbed Ariana and pulled her into the room, allowing the door to close behind them, while instructing the woman to remain quiet. They were gifted with an empty room, which gave Charles some much-needed time to think of a way to escape and determine how to release Damian from the cylinder of water. He ascended the small set of stairs that led up to the top of the contraption and found himself on the platform where his friend had been dropped into the water. He looked down and saw a metal hatch over the cylinder, preventing anyone from entering or exiting.

  After worrying that there may be no way to open the hatch without electricity, Charles saw that there was an emergency release lever on the side, and he pulled it without hesitation. The seal of the large lid broke open and hovered slightly above the thick glass walls. With great effort, the CEO pushed the lid to the side and slid it off the contraption, pivoting on a single hinge attached to the platform. The man was then able to gaze into the water and just make out the shape of a head in the dark liquid.

  Determined to free his friend and do what he could to revive him, Charles plunged his hands into the cold water and hooked his arms under Damian’s shoulders, clasping his hands over the subject’s chest. He then placed his feet against the cylinder for leverage and leaned back with all of his might, dragging the heavy body of his roommate out of the contraption and partly onto the metal platform. Only Damian’s feet remained in the water, his legs rigid like a board, though Charles was focused on the man’s absent breathing and lack of heart rate.

  “Oh no,” he said sadly. “Damian. No.”

  Having been trained in cardiopulmonary resuscitation, he began chest compressions on his friend, pushing down as hard as he could in order to force the heart into operation. Ariana stood at the base of the machine, asking her guide what was going on, but Charles was working too hard to respond. He grunted with effort as the minutes ticked away, finding a steady rhythm to the CPR that was somehow in time with the nonstop alarm. A beat never returned.

  Able to see his friend’s features up close, the CEO noted how empty Damian’s eyes were. There was no remaining life within that expression, no flow of thoughts or firing of nerves, no final muscular twitches or brain-bypassing reflexes. He was never coming back. And for the first time in a long while, Charles wondered if his roommate was luckier than him.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he said to those staring, vacant eyes. “I tried. I really did. I hope you’re with them now. You all deserve to be together after so long.”

  He attempted to gently close Damian’s eyelids in order to make the body seem more peaceful, though they were unwilling to move from their open position, causing Charles to notice the stiffness of the entire corpse. He abandoned the endeavor and staggered down the stairs without looking back at what he had left behind. The man was dead and that was how it would always be.

  Having reached Ariana’s side, he extended an arm to grab her hand and guide her through an exit that sat to the right of the machine. Without warning, the double doors of the room were loudly blown open and six guards came barreling into the space, guns drawn and voices clear.

  “There they are!”

  “In here!”

  “Take them down!”

  Charles pulled his companion behind the thick base of the contraption just as bullets began to fly in their direction. Ariana screamed profusely as her body was forced to the ground by the CEO, who covered his own head as the glass cylinder shattered from the gunfire and pieces of sharp debris rained upon them. He could hear bullets ricocheting off of the machine while painfully cold water drenched their shaking bodies, flooding the area around the contraption. He was confident that they were momentarily protected, though that door to their side was the only means of escape from a very dire situation.

  Pulling his own gun out, Charles crept along the ground toward the edge of the metal base. The firing had ceased from the guards, and he feared that they were going to rush behind the machine and have a clear shot at their targets. He defensively fired a round into the air and heard rapid footsteps on the ground as large men repositioned themselves. Having bought a small amount of time, he looked for something with which he could distract the security team. He needed to either obscure their escape or temporarily disable the employees’ attack just long enough to get across the room and through that side door. And finally, through rapid breaths and dilated eyes, he saw his opportunity.

  Two spare oxygen tanks, nearly four feet tall, sat against a wall near the main entrance to the room. They were hardly visible in the darkness yet contained bright warning labels that Charles could just make out whenever a flashlight beam from the guards struck the stickers. He pointed his gun in that direction, relying on his instinct and minimal experience with a weapon, and fired at the tanks. The bullet disappeared into the shadows and was answered by the guards, who rapidly shot at the CEO’s hiding place on the back corner of the machine.

  The subject tried to slow his breathing, focusing his attention on the task at hand. He glanced over at Ariana and saw her still lying on the ground, her hands over her ears and her face contorted into a pained grimace. He couldn’t save Damian, nor could he help Mr. Munich or Jake, and so Charles made the decision that he would do anything he could to protect that woman and ensure that she was granted the freedom every human deserved.

  With great courage and certain stupidity, the man stuck his head into the line of fire and aimed once more, hoping that the lack of light would save him from becoming easy prey. He pointed the gun and somehow managed to find the strength to maintain a steadiness through his hands. The weapon held still, mere feet above the ground, ready to do as it was told. Charles wanted so badly to unleash hell upon the despicable employees of the facility who cared more about their paycheck than the lives of other people. He waited for no more than a second, ensuring that his next shot would not be taken in vain, before pulling the trigger and sending a bullet into one of the tanks.

  The metal object erupted as the pressure was instantaneously released. The guards dove to the ground as the tank itself was sent sailing into the air, colliding with the high ceiling before falling through thick, white smoke and crashing onto the ground. While the guards protected themselves from the explosion, Charles grabbed Ariana and carried her out from behind the machine, through the side door, and into another hallway.

  Chapter 55

  The screaming continued with Salvador Moreau cowering in submission beneath the irate and powerful Bob Seeker. With no information coming from the director, the Audit Manager turned his attention to Hamilton and Pinner.

  “What other locations does this district have?” he asked them.

  “This is the only office,” Hamilton replied, “but there are also the apartments and then there’s a training center, for job applications and meetings and interviews and stuff like that.”

  “Okay. We need to search all those locations. Figure out where those damn servers are.”

  All efforts switched from analyzing physical and electronic files to searching every Reaching Dreams of
Chicago campus for the missing servers. Agents were split between the various locations within the city and were encouraged to speak with volunteers and employees within the company, hoping that someone may have seen the massive computers or noticed them being moved.

  Hamilton’s heart was bursting with excitement. She felt so close to Charles. The solution to the national mystery was just around the corner, she knew it was, and soon they would know what had happened to all those homeless people. They could then clear the name of Reaching Dreams and clear the name of Charles Pearson. She imagined herself calling Marlene, telling her that they had found her husband and that he was alive and well. Hamilton would then hand the phone over to Charles himself and he would speak with his wife, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay and that they would see each other very soon. It was a bright thought, bringing light into a universally dark tunnel, showing her the way toward resolution.

  And yet the light seemed to always be just out of her reach. Hamilton would tread down the length of the tunnel, hearing her shoes echo against the damp walls, stooping her head to avoid the low ceiling, and the end was always in sight. There it was, illuminating the path, filling her world with hope and a sense of direction, somehow keeping a downtrodden heart from completely freezing over. And still she couldn’t reach the light. She needed more information, one more break in the mystery in order to lead her out of the darkness.

  The woman and several IRS agents walked into one of the apartments owned by Reaching Dreams and hurried to the front desk, catching the attention of a man with glasses who seemed to be in his late 60s.

  “My goodness. You’re Paula Hamilton,” the man said warmly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” He suddenly paused and lowered his voice, looking at the sharply dressed officials. “Not more trouble, is it?”

  “I’m looking for a bunch of computers that have the Reaching Dreams logo on them,” she said hurriedly.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” he said, looking at his own computer. “This one doesn’t seem to have it.”

  “No, no. It wouldn’t be on yours. These are computers that were bought for the main office of each district. We’re looking for some of them.”

  “And you think they’re here?”

  “That’s what we’re going to determine. Seen anything like that? Maybe four or six of them together.”

  “No, ma’am. Nothing like that. Sorry. You want some help looking?”

  “No. We’re good.”

  The group of them then separated and started knocking on Resident doors, entering each one to determine if a room had been occupied by a set of servers rather than homeless people. Each door led to a common area with five rooms branching off of it, all of them needing to be searched. Progress was slow and cumbersome, especially since they had to wait for each Resident to open their door, not wanting to offend anyone or harm the privacy of those individuals.

  Hamilton was heading down one of the wings toward the next set of rooms when a Companion came out of a door and headed toward the assistant.

  “Excuse me,” Hamilton said to her, “but I’m looking for something.”

  “Um, okay,” the Companion said, obviously unsure of who the strange woman was.

  “Great. I’m Paula from RD headquarters. I work with Charles Pearson.”

  “Oh my. Okay,” the young woman said, wiping blond hair out of her eyes and focusing all her attention on the assistant.

  “I’m looking for a bunch of computers. Should be six of them, with the RD logo on them. Grouped together most likely. Seen anything like that?”

  “Uh, no,” she said, “and that’s not much to go off of. There’re a lot of computers here.”

  “I know. But we’re looking for this group of computers specifically.”

  “Why?” The Companion was carrying a large bag of laundry that she set on the ground.

  “We want to know what’s on those computers and they seem to have disappeared,” Hamilton told her, not wanting to give more sensitive details to the woman.

  “Okay, but why are you here? These are just apartments. I can’t imagine there would be a room of computers here. Just Residents.”

  “Well,” Hamilton continued impatiently, wanting to end the conversation and return to searching, “we’re going through every RD location in Chicago right now. The main office, training center, and apartments.”

  “What about that other one? On Hubbard.”

  “What?” the assistant said in shock, almost yelling the word at her in surprise.

  “Uh, yeah. I work nights at a bar over there. Sometimes I see some of the people from RD go into an office over there. I assumed it was part of the company.”

  “My god. Who goes in? How often? Have you looked inside? Tell me, where is it?”

  The Companion gave her an odd look, one marked with confusion and a hint of fear.

  “Um, well, I’ve seen Mr. Moreau go there and, um… Mr. Shore. I think he’s the marketing guy. Gregory the accountant. Some others. I’m not really sure of their names. I don’t work with any of them.”

  “Jesus Christ. Okay. Tell me exactly where it is. Now. Please.”

  Hamilton wrote down the directions she was given, along with the name and number of the woman, and then called Bob Seeker. He had remained at the office with the high-ups of the district to ensure they were under constant surveillance. After divulging what she had just been told, Hamilton could hear the Audit Manager speaking with someone who did not wish to go to the newfound location. Seeker became more and more angered by the refusal of that person before he finally yelled an expletive and then spoke into the phone once again.

  “Moreau claims that we can’t search that location. You know anything about it?”

  “No, Bob. This is news to me. We can ask Sandra, but I can’t recall ever hearing about a second office in Chicago.”

  “Shit. If it’s not under Reaching Dreams, then it’s not covered under the warrant.”

  “Is it private property?”

  “No idea. If it’s an illegal business, then we can search it. But if it’s privately owned and paid for, then we’ve got some dick-sucking to do.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry! God, I’m so sorry. We’ll need to acquire a new warrant. That’s what I meant. Don’t repeat what I said.”

  Hamilton could hear the man yelling at someone again. He was frustrated, angered, and for good reason. The answers were there, right under their noses, but they couldn’t quite grab them. The members of Reaching Dreams of Chicago were standing in their way, and Seeker was quickly losing his patience.

  “Bob! Bob!” Hamilton yelled into the phone, trying to get the man’s attention.

  “What?”

  “If we can prove that the building is paid for by RD, like if our company pays the rent, then the warrant we have should be good, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ll call you back. Meet me outside the building. Call Pinner.” He ended the call and Hamilton was left standing in a hallway with a young woman staring at her in utter confusion. The assistant paused for a second as she waited for her muscles to catch up with her racing brain. It was happening so fast. Things were beginning to unravel.

  Chapter 56

  The hallway breathed in their presence. It wondered from where the intruders had come and why they felt it was appropriate to enter the realm of basic function mixed with horrific purpose. Never before had the hallway witnessed two living subjects, and it curiously dared to lick the fresh sweat from their faces, caress the trembling muscles of their legs, and listen to the rapid beating of their weakened hearts. The experience was ethereal, magical, a delicate treat that garnered great attention and unequivocal interest. It wanted to absorb as much of the moment as possible, for those beings would certainly perish soon, especially since they were headed toward th
e door of internment, a name the hallway coined after countless individuals, death in their blank expressions, were brought into that small room, never to reemerge.

  The threatening presence of terrible secrets and death greeted Charles and Ariana as they entered the hallway, which was empty, short, and told of sinful operations that took place within its walls. The CEO saw a set of stairs at one end, leading back into the trial rooms where he did not want to go. There was an elevator in front of them and then a large door at the opposite end of the hallway.

  Determined to stay away from the site of the explosions where all the guards and other employees were gathered, Charles yanked his companion in the direction of the door and toward what both subjects prayed would be an exit out of the building. After grabbing the heavy door and pulling it open, he saw a massive, metal machine reaching toward the ceiling. It had a rectangular base that was as tall as he, topped with a thick column that disappeared into the floor above. The base had a square hatch on the front that was locked in place.

  The man looked around the room for another door through which they could escape when he saw three gurneys lined up against a wall and several empty body bags stacked atop one another. He then jerked his head back to the large object with the hatch and realized that it was an incinerator.

  “Where are we?” Ariana said in a shaky voice.

  “Uh, uh…” Charles couldn’t respond. He was revolted. He was terrified. He needed to get out of there.

  “Why are we standing? Where are we?” she asked again.

  “We, uh, we need to go the other way.”

  The CEO fled the room with Ariana behind him. They raced past the elevator and toward the staircase. It was their only option. They couldn’t go back into the room where the guards were, for Charles knew that they would be bursting into that hallway at any moment. The only way out of the small space was up those stairs and into the stretch of trial rooms. He would be forced to rely on the thick smoke for concealment as they waded through the crowd of employees.