by CG Blade
Conrad returned minutes later while Jackie was scrubbing up. Warm water flowed over her arms and hands. “Doctor Siebert you might want to come take a look at this.” Conrad looked worried.
Jackie shook dry as he quickly showed the two of them down the hall and two floors down to the staff’s quarters. She slowly opened the door to Dreama’s quarters that was slightly ajar and began to hear crying and sobbing coming from the bunk in the room. There was Dreama balled up in the fetal position rocking back and forth like a seesaw. She was an angelic looking petite slender woman in her ‘30s with long beautiful auburn hair and dark mascara laden features wearing a blue supervisor’s uniform. There was a small lamp clipped to a bedpost lighting the room.
“Dreama what’s wrong?” Jackie asked, sitting next to her and putting her arm around her compassionately.
“I—I—I’m scared. I—”
“Listen Dreama there is absolutely nothing to be scared of. Do you have any implants?”
“I’m—just afraid that—”
“Listen we’ll get you something to relax you okay?”
“Okay—” Dreama was complying with Jackie’s soft and smooth demeanor trying to wipe her face with a towel smearing her make-up as she went.
Jackie had a way of nurturing people, wrapped up Dreama in her arms, and escorted her to Doctor Sander’s office. A nurse gave her a shot of Hydromorphone and soon she was complaining about her boyfriend and their lack of intimacy.
“You’re a miracle worker Jackie,” Emily stated half laughing as the two of them went three doors down finished scrubbing and prepped the next patient with the nurses.
“You should see me cook. You wouldn’t be saying that,” Jackie responded in jest with both of them giggling.
The laughter made Emily forget the fact that there were cold-blooded killers here in blue tanks that were going to wipe all of them out. Bar had talked to Emily after he sobered up that morning and they had discussed what the General had told him about the facility. Now Emily was more intrigued than scared. Could she learn more here than in Omaha? Could she further her research here faster? She was thinking about it hard as she and Jackie snapped their tight blue gloves on over their fingers, sending surgical powder flying.
There was a loud POP…THUD… CRASH… that rang out from down the hallway. They both turned and looked at each other.
“GET THE HELL IN HERE—NOW!” someone yelled loudly from down the hallway. Emily froze.
“HELP—! Hel—!” There it was again.
Jackie ran out of the room responding to the screams by instinct. She could tell it was coming from the direction of Doctor Sander’s therapy lab. She turned the corner and in a quick effort grabbed a hold of the doorjamb to slow her down as she swung around, holding onto the wall and the door simultaneously. Doctor Sanders was lying in the back of the therapy room on the floor face down. It looked like a war zone. One of his assistants was lying against a set of steel medical cabinets on the floor legs spread apart. His head bent at the neck facing down. The glass doors to the cabinet were smashed in behind him and supplies were strewn about. His face was shredded with red shrapnel and parts of his blue smock were singed and smoking. It looked like some sort of acid was eating the exposed skin on his body. Another assistant was lying against a steel leg of the brown leather covered therapy table like a rag doll that had been left there by a child. His exposed skin and the top of his head were being eaten from the acidic red syrupy liquid dripping slowly from Dreama’s dangling hand and body.
There on the table strapped down and wiggling in continuous movements was Dreama. It seemed her chest had been blown open and ruptured from the inside out. The wound started from her windpipe and ended at her navel. A red liquid that was not blood was oozing out onto the floor from the tabletop slowly in all directions. Jackie could see colored wiring, tubing, and servos sparking, trying to complete their programming. Dreama’s face and body was covered in the red liquid substance and what was now her exposed voice box was uttering some incoherent garbled words. It seemed to Jackie that the red liquid was eating through anything organic but leaving solid mass intact. All of the medical cabinets and counters were spattered with tiny metallic red dots that looked like someone used a crimson covered paintbrush and swung it around the room at a high rate of speed. It had a sweet corrosive smell to it.
“Don’t come in here!” Jackie told the guards who were now standing at the door behind her with their mouths wide open. She was trying to shield them from the room with her arms spanning the doorway.
“I—I—need you guys to get me something long—with a hook and get a crash cart ASAP!” Jackie was now talking slowly and lowered her voice thinking she wasn’t going to be the one to disturb this thing right now.
“Oh Okay—be right back,” one of the guards said leaving quickly down the hallway.
“What the Fuck?” She murmured to herself “you’ve got to be kidding me some kind of a- a robot? Are you fucking serious?” Jackie could see that Doctor Sanders may have had his back turned to the patient when this happened. He was probably dialing up the amperage on her therapy pads, she thought. He hadn’t been hit from the front like the two assistants. She had to get him out of the path of the liquid. Time was limited now. The liquid looked like thick syrup seeping everywhere filling in all the cracks of the floor. It was going to be difficult to clean this up. The other two assistants were unreachable and looked dead already to her.
The guard had returned with a Salisbury Hook used for removing patients safely from electrical dangers. The hook resembled one used in a Vaudeville act to remove an unwanted comic.
Jackie slowly started to inch the hook towards Doctor Sanders, making sure to stay clear of any of the liquid.
“You want some help Miss Siebert?” one of the guards asked her softly.
“No—I—think—come on—” Jackie was now kneeling at the doorway and pulled with all her might on his neck and shoulder area she had hooked. She slowly started to pull Sanders towards her, unfortunately bringing some of the liquid with him as he slid across the floor. “DAMN!” she yelled softly as she tugged on him. “Get me a gurney now!” She stood up and pulled him by the arms, throwing the hook behind her.
The guards and twenty onlookers were now standing around and had to shuffle out of the way to allow one person to maneuver down the hall. The guard radioed for a bed and a unit resembling an EMT team responded quickly over the radio.
Jackie pulled Sanders out of the way of the liquid and into the blue-lit hallway. “Everyone who doesn’t belong here get the hell out of here now!” she yelled as the response team tried to muddle their way past everyone in the hall.
They carefully and quickly cut and removed his red soaked and burnt white smock. His grey pants shoes and socks now covered in the liquid were sliced and discarded on the floor. The response team loaded him up on the gurney and hovered off towards the elevator. They headed for the Preservation Room.
“Emily!” Jackie yelled
“Yeah I’m right here.” Emily was a foot behind Jackie scanning the room shaking her head in disbelief and covering her mouth with her hands.
“You got any ideas—‘bout cleaning this up getting to…them?” Jackie asked her holding her chin. She tightly covered her own mouth pointing to the remaining two people left in the room. The substance didn’t seem to be going airborne. It looked heavy.
“Do you have access to a hazardous response team?” Emily asked.
“Yes” Jackie got on the guard’s radio and asked them to come immediately. They were already suited up and on the way. Someone had already tipped them off.
“If that substance is as acidic as it looks and smells we need to neutralize it before we can inspect that—Dreama. I’ll get some tools, petri dishes and grab a spill kit to get some samples. Make sure everyone is out of here that does not belong. We don’t need that stuff tracked all over the place. Gloves and masks are necessary if we are going to handle it. I would treat it
as an infectious disease,” Emily suggested somberly.
Jackie agreed with her and gave orders to her nurses and assistants that everyone quickly snapped to. Emily pulled her Vidset out of her lab coat and called Bar and Tinker who were in the computer room running simulations and programming. Bar wanted to know where she was.
“Bar don’t come up here.”
“I heard what happened. Are you guys ok?”
“Yeah we’re fine. Doctor Sanders didn’t look so good going out of here. Listen when we remove some of this stuff we’re going to need Tinker and maybe your help—Okay?”
“Yes, just let me know what you need. No problem.”
Emily and Jackie started to supervise the cleanup and removal of the liquid and the deceased men. Now they were off track. What started out as a peaceful morning with good intentions ended as a Hazmat day with kid gloves and a solemn reminder in the form of Doctor Sander’s remaining corroded smock pieces? Where was the real Dreama? Jackie thought looking over the horrific scene in front of her.
Chapter 15
DESOLATION
As Petra began her descent to the Grand Cayman Island from Meredith, Ter brought up more files on Ray Nelson’s past and his connection to the island. The Caribbean had a sunny rich history throughout the years and was home to past rumrunners and the nefarious sorts who were normally on the wrong side of the law. A lot of offshore money had been stored here for centuries and most just thought of it as having a reputation for allowing criminals refuge. A few executives actually used this area to clear their heads and soak up some well-deserved sun. The West Bay of the island had docks and beaches and a lot of bars. The rich used the locals in the area to perform their daily needs and used them to the fullest as their servants and slaves. When Ray Nelson became overwhelmed with his finances, he sought out the help of bankers on the island to handle his affairs on the advice of his grandfather, John. He had never been good with money even as he grew in stature. He was always focused on his next endeavor never thinking that one day he would actually retire. As time marched on, he became more dependent on the help of his laborers and his bankers. He would meet with bank managers in back room bars and his private study to finalize deals and often tell them without provocation about his rich family history over a few drinks. Ray’s Grandfather had died on the island and was buried at Further Ground on the Northside along with his wife and her mother. Ray had a treasured life here thanks to them and all of the people who bought his wares and died for his bank account. None of the death and backstabbing fazed him. He knew people talked about him behind his back but he hadn’t always been ice cold. He had a normal beating heart long ago and it was broken by the pain and despair of weakened human flesh. After the money started rolling in he couldn’t change his tactics couldn’t turn decent. He was too far gone. The money made him happy.
The Jet-Carrier landed three hours and fifty-nine minutes after it had left Meredith New York and Petra parked it at a hangar at the Owen Roberts International Airport. This Jet-Carrier was a small one resembling an ancient hovercraft but had touchscreen controls and could easily reach altitudes of twenty to thirty thousand feet. It was sleek enough to conceal easily and she packed up her gear and headed down the street guided by Ter’s annoying GPS. Her long blonde hair blew slightly in the warm salty spring breeze coming off the ocean as she made her way through the towns markets and houses. The open-air food shops and their makeshift chimneys bellowed smoke throughout the area filling it with hunger and anticipation. The island had a reputation for newcomers being harassed by locals if they weren’t aware of the traditions and customs so it sometimes had a pirate feel to it. Tourists had to be wary of thieves and scam artists.
“Ter we are going to need some more suitable attire.”
“Yes Petra.”
A fashion catalog was flashing in front of her eyes. She had Ter stop at the swimwear section.
“That looks good Ter.” Petra was now fitted with a Cobalt bikini, a sarong, and new black sunglasses that Jackie and the team gave her. The blue in her hair was becoming more prominent now. Ter gave her more grief than she asked for concerning her vanity.
She passed Breezy Castle on her way down Sparky’s Drive to Esterly Tibbett’s Highway. A sign up ahead read 1 MILE TO COBALT COAST. Petra grinned at the sign as they entered a housing project called Battle Ground on their way to Hell. Hell Road led straight to Hell and she knew that Ray Nelson had the Old Hell Post Office torn down years ago so he could put up his mansion on that spot. It never mattered to him that the whole area was deemed historical and a huge tourist attraction at the time.
A small hill protruded up from the landscape in Battle Ground overlooking the mansion and she could see it about a half a mile away. The mansion was a huge marbled stone monstrosity sticking up over the sea like a giant wave coming at them. It was very out of place as it dwarfed the surrounding houses and beaches. Petra stood on the small grassy hill and scanned the area deciding to stay low and check out the situation before making any moves. She lay on the back of the hill just out of eyesight of the residents at the mansion. There were people and vehicles moving in all directions around the mansion. There were a lot of delivery carriers and women. A lot of women seemed to be going in and out of the front door and rear entrance. Only one person was still never moving in front of the mansion.
“Ter I am going to need a scope…and possibly a rifle.”
“Yes Petra.”
Petra’s eyes moved in a shutter fashion looking through the riflescope in and out quickly not unlike the lens of a video camera with autofocus. Her right eye was trained on the subject standing at the front door. Her HUD gave her elevation with distance and temperature and wind speed. It was all tied into the Remington 700 rifle that appeared out of her right palm.
“Who is that Ter?”
“That Petra is Kirk Arddecc according to my database files. Ray Nelson’s associate and bodyguard.”
“He’s a big boy. What’s his story?” She was amazed that Kirk was the size of a small truck and had arms the size of tree trunks. His face was about the most disturbing thing on him as he reeked of scars, gunfire and stab wounds. He had taken bullets and assassination attempts for Ray in the past and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would be there whenever Ray needed him to do his dirty work for him. He was very large and very repugnant. His cheap black suits were unkempt and dirty at times and his spiky syrup colored haircut looked like an auto accident. Kirk’s barrel chest must have always arrived through a door before he did.
“According to my files,” Ter continued, “he is not unwilling to do whatever it takes to protect Mr. Nelson and his assets.”
Petra opened up a small black bag, pulled out a package, and opened it. She began chewing on a Twinkie. The cream filling oozed between her fingers.
“Kirk is in all senses of the word defective. You are very lucky I can maintain your pancreatic and thyroid functions so well or you would be a diabetic by now. There is a substance called ‘fruit’ if you ever get the chance to try it.”
“Don’t give me any—” Petra stopped cold. “Ter bring up thermal HUD.” Petra’s thermal HUD gave her a special insight into Kirks world but she wanted a better angle. He looked cold, dead cold.
“Okay Ter I think we’ve got us a live one or a dead one depending on how you look at it. I can’t tell what he is by his temperature. Ter we have to get a closer look at this guy.”
A gnarly voice from behind Petra spoke “Hey pretty lady. You got any money pretty lady? We want to party with you. Wow wieeee nice ass!”
Petra swiftly filed through some of her unique responses available to her in her database. This took milliseconds as she turned over and dropped her sunglasses. The two dark men standing over her were locals and appeared to be drunk and somewhat stupid. She noticed they had seven teeth between them when they smiled and they stunk like a bar at closing time. Petra blurted out one of her files on ‘responses to unwanted actions by members o
f the opposite sex’: “My medication is going to wear off in twenty seconds. And none of us wants to be around for that.”
They stared at each other and smiled as if she spoke a language from another planet. One of the men grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her off the ground. She came up four feet in the air and when she landed, her armor took over and wrapped around her body cushioning her fall.
“Listen boys, the U.S. Government spent a lot of money on this body and you’re not going to screw it up!”
The men paralyzed by fear at this point stared at Petra as her Cobalt armor now included a face shield that mimicked her contours. She jumped up and hit them both in the chest with open palms. They rolled and flew down the small hill and landed in the street below kicking up dirt as they went. She had hurt them bad and they took off crying to each other about how awful it felt to be hit by a girl with steel arms.
“Okay Ter let’s get inside that party and see who is who.” Petra was scanning the horizon looking for more Kirk-like subjects.
“Good idea Petra. You might want to take a date. Maybe consider one of those two gentlemen who just scurried off into the sunrise?”
“You know what I just realized Ter? You’re very funny and you’ve acquired a sense of humor since our time together in the tank last week. Maybe you should try stand-up.”
“Thank you Petra. I would if I could get out of here. I have downloaded terabytes of information on the subject ranging from Slapstick to Sarcasm. Comedy and music helps to raise your endorphin levels therefore increasing your chances for success. Would you like me to shut off that part of the sub-program?”
“No its fine Ter just try to point it somewhere else—once in a while. Why don’t you pull up some files and play me some music?”
“Yes Petra.”
The song ‘Secret Agent Man’ by Johnny Rivers began playing in Petra’s head.