I guess there’s only one way to find out, she thought as she made her way back onto the hospital grounds.
The land surrounding the hospital was leafy parkland with rusted benches and cracked pathways.
The overgrown lawn was covered with various pieces of litter and leaves swept around by the force of the steadily increasing bitter wind which was pushed ahead of an encroaching storm.
She shivered as she moved stealthily from tree to tree, cognisant of being noticed by someone through one of the many hospital windows.
She felt a bit calmer realising that most of the windows were shuttered or so completely covered in filth that any accidental sighting of her would have been hindered.
She made sure that there was no one around when she entered through the rear fire exit doors of the hospital that led to the Morgue.
Luckily the rusted hinges had left them ajar after she had initially exited the building.
Once inside, the first thing that she noticed was that the fire alarm sirens had been silenced. She didn’t like that, she knew that at least while there was a lot of noise and distractions she could remain undetected. This fact had helped the exodus. She knew that she would have to be a lot more careful.
She tried not to feel overwhelmed by the fact that the hospital was a large place and it would almost be a miracle if she found Justen and Crystal. It’s not like she could just ask someone.
Sylvan involuntarily shivered again as she crept past the stainless steel vaults which housed the deceased.
In her rush to leave she had not noticed the dozens of gurneys that had corpses laid out on them, covered with blood stained light blue sheets. The tang of death struck her nostrils like a razor. Her stomach heaved and she fought the urge to vomit.
She began to panic as the blood drained from her face and a wave of nausea swept through her.
Her flight instincts struck her and she made a beeline for the door.
She was just about to exit the Morgue when she heard approaching footsteps. She tried not to panic further, and looked around the room for somewhere to hide. She spied an empty gurney and rushed to it, covering herself with the sheet just before the unknown people entered.
She held her breath and tried to remain perfectly still.
From the noises and voices, she could tell that there were two people. They were grunting like they were exerting themselves.
She remained perfectly still and hoped that they would do what they came there to do and then leave.
She heard their voices; loud like they were right next to her. She could also hear her own heartbeat beating out an increasing tempo.
“I can’t believe Stringer would kill one of his own. What an arsehole!”
“I’d be very careful if I were you. He’s a psychopath. He warned you not to mention that he was here.”
“Yeah, yeah, he doesn’t scare me. Anyway who’s gonna tell anyone, these gutless corpses?”
“Those are brave words from a man who almost pissed himself when he killed old Charlie here.”
“You’re not kidding; I wouldn’t want to be that Peters woman, or her kid.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that; those two would already be carved up by now. How about we toss Charlie in the freezer and get the hell out of here. I need a coffee.”
“Ok sounds great, it’s your shout anyway.”
Sylvan waited until she was sure that they had left the Morgue before she carefully pulled the sheet off herself and sat up.
She was shaking uncontrollably. She was terrified by the realisation that she and Justen were being pursued by some psychopath called ‘Stringer’.
However, there was some consolation in knowing that Justen was definitely somewhere in the hospital. She just had to find him.
She quietly opened the door to the Morgue and peered down the long corridor which led back to the elevators she had taken to flee the hospital with the other victims.
Subconsciously she felt in the pocket of her Lab coat for the two syringes that the FBI agent had given her.
Since her escape from the hospital had been unhindered she did not need to use them. Now her circumstances had changed. She wished that the syringes were a more substantial weapon.
Oh well, they’ll just have to do, she thought as she quietly crept up the corridor towards the elevators.
She could feel a trickle of cold sweat run down her back as the adrenalin coursed through her.
She approached the elevators cautiously and pressed the ‘up’ button and then waited patiently for the elevator to arrive at her floor. She faced away from the doors and peered left and right, up and down the corridor and listened for any noises or signs of anyone approaching.
She heard the distinctive ding of the elevator as it arrived; she turned around and then froze when the doors opened and she was confronted by a group of people in white Lab coats like hers. They were all talking excitedly and did not seem to notice her.
Crap, she thought as she kept her head down and entered the elevator. She tried not to look at any of them. She nervously fumbled with the syringes in her pocket and realised that they would be useless as there were four of them and she only had two syringes.
She mumbled “Excuse me,” and moved to the rear of the elevator. She kept her head down and tried to blend in as best she could as she listened quietly to their conversations.
“I can’t understand it, my TDI is not responding except for a red flash in my peripherals, it’s as if it’s been disabled somehow,” said one of the two young female interns in the group.
“Yes, I know, mine is the same, there’s been too much strange shit happening. First all of those power glitches, then one of the Doctors are murdered, then the fire alarm and now this!” Exclaimed the much older male intern who was at the front of the elevator and who Sylvan thought was staring directly at her. She could almost feel his stare.
“I don’t want to be trapped in this shit hole. We have to find out what’s going on. Because our neural net is down, we are going to have to find Doctor Argyle and get him to tell us what’s going on,” said the older intern who seemed to be the leader of the group.
Sylvan felt the elevator come to a stop and the heard the familiar ding again. She looked up just as the doors opened and the group moved to exit. She waited for them to leave and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors started to close again.
She was just about to relax when a hand suddenly grabbed the door and held it open. It was the older intern. He looked at Sylvan and said gruffly.
“Hey Blondie are you coming or not? Come on we don’t have all day”, he said as he turned and started walking away up the hallway towards the rest of the group who had disappeared through an exit door.
Shit! I’m screwed, thought Sylvan as she reluctantly followed the intern out of the elevator. She knew that she had to act quickly and felt for one of the syringes in her lab coat pocket.
She grasped the syringe firmly in her hand and then with enormous effort, lunged at the intern who was a few paces ahead of her and plunged the needle into his back.
“Oww! What the…”, the intern exclaimed as he first tried to reach behind his back to find the source of the pain, but then collapsed face first onto the floor as the anaesthetic did its job.
Seizing her opportunity, Sylvan turned and ran back to the elevator and entered it just before the doors closed. Shaking all over, she exhaled a long breath as she slumped to the floor.
Her body was still recuperating from the trauma she had recently received and with the adrenalin levels declining; she suddenly started to feel the dull aches and pains.
She felt the elevator begin to descend – she had no idea where she was going.
Thirty Eight
By the time the FBI team had arrived at the neighbourhood of Ms Crystal Meth, the sky had started to darken.
Lewiston hunched his shoulders as a chilly blast of air swept up the seemingly abandoned street.
He stood besi
de Lisa and waited for the other two FBI agents to park their van. He noticed that they seemed to be taking their time leaving their vehicle and glanced at Lisa to see if she too had noticed the delay. She seemed nonplussed so he said nothing.
While he waited, he took a good look around at the row of derelict edifices and sighed heavily. These neighbourhoods always depressed him as they reminded him of his past.
He had grown up as the only child of very poor family. Fortunately, he had realised at a very young age that the only way that he was going to break the cycle of poverty, was for him to excel scholastically as he was always a weedy child and hence that eliminated any desires for athletic achievement.
His keen analytical mind had always been his greatest strength and so had jumped at the opportunity for a scholarship and then internship with the Bureau.
That had been his ticket out of his past and had opened up a whole new world for him, a world that enabled him to flex his analytical mind and to meet like minded people who shared his enthusiasm for solving riddles. He was especially pleased when he had been assigned to work with Lisa.
He felt his face go red when he started thinking about his partner and his feelings for her. He became particularly self conscious when he noticed that Lisa was looking at him, scrutinising him as she moved over closer to him. He could smell her perfume, the slight hint of Jasmine and Lilac which triggered an intense uncomfortable feeling within him.
“Bang-Bang, are you okay? Your face is a bit flushed,” Lisa said as she took her glove off and put the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re not sick are you?”
Lewiston coughed nervously and shook his head as he stepped back slightly, trying to move away from Lisa’s touch as his blushing intensified.
“I…I…I’m fine, it’s just the cold, I get a bit of a reaction to cold breezes, that’s all,” he said as he brushed a loose strand of hair away from his eyes. He felt uncomfortable so he forced himself to look in the direction of the other van.
“Why do you think they are taking so long?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“Thompson looks like he’s talking to someone on the phone,” Lisa said just as her phone started to ring.
Lewiston watched as Lisa pulled her phone out of her pocket to answer it. He waited patiently as the other person on the phone spoke and she listened.
“Okay, no problem. We will remain here and take a look around. Call us if you need us,” Lisa said and then shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“What was that all about?” Lewiston asked as he noticed the other van pull out quickly, its tyres squealing slightly as it sped off down the street. “Where are they going?”
“Thompson just got a call from Durning; apparently, he interrogated a witness who gave them a good description of a van which was involved in the Boss’s disappearance. He did some checking; apparently Durning has some connections with the CIA.”
“Yeah, that’d be right,” Lewiston said with derision.
“Anyway,” continued Lisa, “Using a surveillance satellite, the van has been tracked to an abandoned hospital.
Agents Thompson and Cambridge are going there now to try to locate the Boss. Thompson wants us to stay here and find Ms Meth and see how much she knows about Sylvan and Justen Peters.”
Lewiston could see that that sky was getting darker and the threat of rain was imminent.
“Okay then, do we know which building Ms Meth is in?”
“Thompson said it’s the first one in the block of five, Apartment 401 of the Paradise Apartments,” Lisa said as she started walking towards the first building.
Lewiston was about to follow her and stopped. He looked up and down the street.
“Thompson must be losing it,” he said quietly as he followed behind Lisa. He could see that there were only four buildings in the block. There was only a vacant lot where the alleged fifth building was supposed to be.
Further down the street he could see a few obviously homeless people huddled around a burning rubbish bin. He wondered whether there would be anything to gain from interviewing them and then thought better of it. He shrugged his shoulders and quickened his pace, just as the first splotches of rain began to moisten the ground.
He was getting an uneasy feeling that he couldn’t explain. He caught up with Lisa just as she was about to enter the building. He noticed that she opened the door very quietly as if expecting trouble.
The interior of the lobby to the building was very dark. Lewiston felt the wall for a light switch. He found a group of them and flicked them all. The lobby remained in darkness. The building was obviously abandoned.
Even in the dim light Lewiston could see that there was rubbish all over the floor and parts of the walls were collapsing under the weight of decay. The smell was disgusting, a mixture of mould, urine and rat faeces.
“No power Lisa, I don’t think this is Ms Meth’s building,” Lewiston said quietly. “How about we go and check out the next one.
“Thompson said it was the first building. That means we are at the wrong end of this block that’s all,” Lisa said as she turned and walked out of the building into the pouring rain.
Lewiston hunched his shoulders against the wind and rain and shivered. He could see the huddled masses of the homeless getting closer as they made their way down the street to the last building. He tried not to look at them as they passed but couldn’t help noticing that one of the old men look a little bit like his Father.
There, but for the grace of God, go I, he thought as he wiped a drip of water from his nose and pretended to stare at the footpath, unfortunately he couldn’t help notice that the old man had looked up from the bin and stared at him.
Suddenly the old man moved in front of him and grabbed hold of his arm. He spoke in a croaky voice and pointed his finger at the building.
“That’s the she devil’s kitchen, do not go in there. If you enter, you won’t return.”
Lewiston stopped and was about to reply when he heard Lisa.
“Come on Bang-Bang, ignore him, he’s obviously delusional.”
“I’m so sorry.” Lewiston said as he shook his arm to detach the old man and strode off after Lisa.
As he walked, he glanced behind to see if the old man was following him, but lost him in the rain and the heavy layer of mist which was beginning to rise from the ground.
Thirty Nine
The first thing that Michael noticed was the silence, and then the asphyxiation. He couldn’t breathe; the air was fetid, with very little oxygen.
He squeezed his eyes closed and focussed his mind. His laboured breathing slowly began to ease as he forced his body to control its processes and extract more available oxygen from his new environment.
He opened his eyes, and realising that he was still tied up with rope, craned his neck to try to ascertain exactly where he was.
He knew that he had been kicked into the event horizon of the wormhole by Dr Oppenheimer.
I knew there was something wrong with him, he thought as he forced himself to replay the events that had led to his current predicament.
The minute he had walked into the laboratory and saw Dr Becker tied to a chair, he knew it was a trap.
Whatever Oppenheimer had injected him with, had disabled his TDI. However, it had not rendered him unconscious.
He had pretended to go along with the mad doctor’s scheme. He needed to know what was going on.
The fact that Oppenheimer was controlling Mundus Nova did not come as any surprise. What did surprise him was the fact that his good friend was also evil. The man he thought was a saviour was in fact a murderer.
I can’t believe Doctor Becker would have been capable of creating such a terrible virus, he thought as he methodically worked to untie himself from his constrictions.
As the last of the bindings fell from his body, Michael stood up and took a good look around at his surroundings.
As far as he could tell he was in some kind of holding cel
l.
The walls, floor and ceiling of the cell were perfectly smooth and coated in a substance that appeared to be perfectly frictionless. He tried to touch the wall. There was a sensation of a force pushing back against his hand. It was an odd feeling. Even though the air was fetid, he could feel there was movement, a breeze like the slight breath of a child.
There was a red bioluminescent message in the air that hovered several feet from his face. It was written in a strange language. A series of squiggles and dots and it appeared to be changing in a rhythmic fashion. At least the last few characters appeared to be changing.
He focussed his attention on the message and it slowly began to make sense to his mind,
Decontamination in progress, completion in…
The last few characters eluded his interpretation but he had the gist of the message. It made sense to him that, wherever he was in space and time, there was a risk that he would carry contaminates from his world. Obviously whatever race of creature lived here was just being cautious.
It was also obvious to Michael that Oppenheimer had not bothered to target any particular destination for the wormhole. His only concern being the destruction of his perceived enemy.
He smiled as he could picture the look on the Doctor’s face when he appeared again to return the favour.
It was indeed fortunate for Michael, that Oppenheimer had been unaware that he did not need the TDI to enter the wormhole. It was also fortunate that he had not been rendered unconscious. He had needed all of the power of his mind to maintain his molecular cohesion whilst inside the swirling vortex.
The bioluminescent message changed colour. Now it was green and the last few characters had stopped changing. The breeze had also stopped. Michael was curious to see what would happen next.
Suddenly the room around him changed.
Shapes morphed around him. The duplicate image of his room back on his world materialised before him. Even the air became heavier with oxygen and he was able to breathe easier.
The Immortal Harvest Page 24