by James Axler
“Subject appears awake and alert,” Dr. Markus said as he picked up a small penlight and shone it into Ryan’s eye. “Pupil response to stimulus is normal.”
“Healing of various injuries has progressed more quickly than expected.” The barest hint of a smile flitted across Dr. Phieks’s face. “His recovery time is excellent. It is a shame about the left eye, however. It lessens his overall effectiveness—”
“Okay, you both can stop talking about me like I can’t hear you,” Ryan said. “Where am I, who are you and why am I tied up?”
The two whitecoats exchanged an inscrutable look, and there was a definite pause of about a second before Dr. Markus replied, “You are in Base Unit 556 of Bioengineering Facility Epsilon. We are in a converted Atlas ICBM missile silo and facility that was decommissioned in the mid-twentieth century and repurposed to become the laboratory is it today.”
“Dr. Markus and I are the joint overseers of this facility,” Dr. Phieks said. “You, Ryan Cawdor, have been brought here because we wish you to join our staff. You have been restrained because you have been proved to be somewhat...resistant to being with us.”
“You’re bastard right I’m resistant,” Ryan said, straining against his bonds. “There’s no way I’m going to let any of you put one of those bastard slugs into me, not while I’m still breathing.”
Again, the doctors exchanged that unreadable glance.
“Mr. Cawdor, it wouldn’t be right of us to inflict this on you without you knowing the truth of this place,” Markus said as he picked up a hypodermic needle and filled it with a clear liquid. “We’re going to take you to the Mind, and any questions you may have will be answered then.”
“We will bring a wheelchair for you to sit in, as all verified accounts of your actions show that you are not to be trusted until you are one of us,” Phieks said.
“Well, get ready for the biggest disappointment of your lives, because I’m never going be one of you,” Ryan replied.
“I think you’ll change your mind once you see what we’re about to reveal to you.” Phieks gripped his arm with two hands that clamped down on him like steel bands. “I suggest that you avoid struggling. Otherwise you could tear the vein.”
“A simple nerve blocker, to prevent your brain from sending commands to the rest of your body,” Markus said as he injected the liquid into Ryan’s body. “The net effect is to paralyze you temporarily, of course. Dr. Phieks, if you please.”
She walked out and returned with a wheelchair. “The somewhat humorous thing about this particular drug is that you can be posed into whatever position is suitable,” Markus said as he unbuckled the straps and raised Ryan’s arm. When he let go, it stayed suspended in midair. “It makes things much easier on everybody.”
“Let’s get you into the chair.” The two easily lifted Ryan and positioned him in the wheelchair. “All right, then, we’ll get your friend, and then we’ll all go visit the Mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mildred also came to in a room similar to Ryan’s, but found herself unsecured to her bed. She sat up, wincing at the pain ricocheting inside her skull, and tried to piece together what had happened to her, and how she’d ended up here.
The last thing she remembered was helping to repel the attack on the encampment with J.B. and the others. One of the wagons had been under assault by a pair of the strange attackers, and J.B. had been fighting them while she’d been getting the family away. Then the flood had come. She’d heard a roaring sound that had quickly grown so loud she couldn’t hear anything else, and before she’d known it, she’d been thrown off her feet and had had the briefest sensation of falling into a churning mass of roiling, brown water. That was all she’d known until she woke up here.
She glanced down to find herself dressed in a thin hospital gown that made her shiver involuntarily. Covering her chest with her arms, she looked around at the bare walls and lack of furniture, wondering where exactly here was, and more important, was anyone else in here with her, and how was she going to escape? Mildred licked her dry lips. And before I go, can I find about a gallon of water to drink?
The door slid open, and a vaguely familiar-looking figure stepped inside. Beyond him, Mildred saw a group of people waiting in the hallway outside.
“Mildred Wyeth, I am Morgan. You may remember me from the Freedom Mall.”
“I...do.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Administrator Morgan? Where are we? What are you doing here?”
Morgan held up a hand. “If you will come with me, all of your questions will be answered.”
“I don’t suppose I could get into something a little less...drafty?” she asked.
The corner of Morgan’s mouth twitched into something that might have approached a smile. “Of course.” He walked to the door and spoke to one of the people outside. A few minutes later, a bundle of clothes was brought in, which Morgan handed over to her. “Apologies for the oversight.”
“No problem,” Mildred took the one-piece, sky-blue jumpsuit, noting the lack of pockets, and soft slippers for footwear. Underwear was a simple white-cotton bra and panties. “If you don’t mind...” She waved at the door.
Morgan stared blankly at her for a moment, then stiffened. “Of course.” He walked to what she thought was a blank, featureless wall and pushed on it, making an entire section swing out. “Sanitary facilities are in here. Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” He turned and left the room, the main door sliding closed behind him.
Mildred could have gotten dressed in front of him—modesty was a quickly discarded virtue in the Deathlands—but she had requested the privacy for two reasons. The first was to collect her thoughts. Seeing Morgan here so long after their last encounter on the East Coast was certainly odd; she wondered what had possessed him to travel all the way out here—or indeed, if he’d even had a choice in the matter.
The second reason was to test the parasites’—for she had no doubt that Morgan was being controlled by one—reaction to human social mores. The fact that he had reacted and agreed to her request meant that the slugs apparently didn’t take over a human body completely, or they at least had access to their hosts’ accumulated knowledge and memories. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if that would come in handy, but every scrap of knowledge she could get regarding these things was useful.
She zipped up the jumpsuit and slid her feet into the soft, fluffy slippers, which, she had to admit, felt pretty damn good after weeks of her feet being cooped up in heavy combat boots. She walked over to the bathroom and puzzled over the handleless sink for a few seconds until she figured out how to turn it on by waving her hand under the faucet. A cellophane-wrapped plastic cup, too flimsy to be a weapon, sat on the sink.
After filling her belly with water, she splashed some on her face and examined her plaited hair in the mirror. “Well, you’ve looked better, but you’ve also looked a damn sight worse, too.” She heaved a sigh. “Might as well see what the hell these folks want.”
She walked back out into the main room and rapped on the door, which slid open almost immediately. Mildred walked out into a corridor with rows of doors along both sides, and one at the end of the hallway. Morgan stood nearby, along with two people wearing lab coats—a male and a female, whom he introduced as Dr. Markus and Dr. Phieks, respectively—and a pair of armed sec guards. There was one more person there who made her eyes widen in surprise.
“Ryan? What the hell?” She shoved past the male doctor to check on her friend sitting stiffly in a wheelchair. Although his eye tracked her movement, he didn’t move a muscle at her approach. “What did you do to him?”
“Routine security precaution,” Dr. Phieks said.
“Ryan Cawdor has been observed to be quite dangerous, and therefore necessitated restraint,” Dr. Markus said. “He is unhurt, and the drug that is incapacitating him
has no lasting neurological or physical effects. He will be fine.”
“And soon, he will be perfect,” Morgan intoned.
“Indeed.” The two scientists, or doctors, or whatever the hell they were, exchanged looks and smiles, making Mildred’s blood run cold.
She bent over to check Ryan, feeling his pulse and thumbing back his eyelid to check for other drug evidence. “How you feeling?” she whispered. “Blink once for good, twice for bad.”
“...een...etterrr...” The garbled words leaked from his frozen mouth, and it took her a moment to translate them. Been better.
“Yeah, I bet you have. Just sit tight—” she winced at the completely useless advice “—and I’ll figure out a way to get us out of here.”
“Liiike...have...choiccce...” Ryan replied.
“That’s, uh—that’s the spirit.” Mildred straightened and turned to Morgan and the two doctors. “He seems to be all right, although I’d like to have him monitored for a potential adverse reaction to the drug.”
Morgan nodded. “That can be arranged. Now, if you’ll come with us, we need to introduce you to the Mind.” He gestured at Ryan’s wheelchair. “If you would like, you can push Ryan along as we go.”
“Sure.” Mildred grabbed the handles and began walking beside Morgan as they headed down the silent hallway, their every step flanked by the pair of sec men. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what is the Mind?”
A beatific smile appeared on Morgan’s face. “The Mind is all, and we are all one with the Mind. It has instituted order and harmony in our compound, and enabled us to unlock our full potential, to reach for higher consciousness and continue our research.”
“And what, pray tell, might that be?”
Whatever answer Morgan would have given was forestalled by Markus. “Subject does not have clearance for briefing on our work.”
Morgan nodded. “Of course not—not yet, at least.”
“Okay. Then perhaps you can tell me how you came to be a part of this...operation,” Mildred requested.
Morgan looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “It is a short story. After leaving the Freedom Mall, I wandered the area around it for several weeks, but found nothing suited to my abilities. I joined a caravan heading west, much like the one you and your people are with. We had decided to travel through the forest to the north, to avoid the plains. That did not work out so well. The caravan was attacked, and we were scattered. I survived as best I could, but the indigenous creatures forced me to head out onto the plains here. I was near death when a group from this facility found me and brought me here. They introduced me to the Mind, which I must admit, I was resistant to at first—” Mildred again noted the knowing smiles that appeared on the faces of the two doctors “—but once joined, I converted wholeheartedly, and am now reaping the benefits of being one with it. It truly is amazing, as you’ll see soon enough.”
“I’m sure it is.” His description of the Mind and what it was doing with these people made Mildred’s stomach churn, but she kept her expression calm. “What are you allowed to tell me about this place?”
“There’s not much to tell,” Morgan said. “As we had explained to Ryan, this is one of a series of Cold War–era missile silos that were deactivated in the 1970s and 1980s. Officially, many of them were allowed to fill with water, or were even sold to private owners who converted them into bomb shelters or living spaces.”
“Many of the more concealed ones were retained by the United States government,” Markus continued, “and appropriated by Overproject Whisper for various research projects such as ours.”
“They were refurbished to suit a particular project’s needs, with ample supplies for staff and subjects,” Phieks said. “When skydark occurred, it was only natural for our ancestors to remain in our location and continue our research in the hopes of assisting with the rebuilding of the nation. We have carried on their mission ever since.”
“Yeah...how’s that going, by the way?” Mildred asked.
An odd, puzzled look crossed both doctors’ faces, as if they weren’t sure whether Mildred was being sarcastic or serious.
Finally, Markus answered. “Slowly, but progress is being made every day.”
They came to a T intersection with several more people, each dressed in a jumpsuit, lab coat or occasionally both, walking past. Although the hallway was fairly narrow, no one collided with anyone else, or even came close to doing so. Every movement was precisely choreographed for maximum efficiency—even people who were reviewing paperwork or engaged in conversation avoided bumping into others. It was uncanny, and more than a bit frightening.
Across the hall was an elevator. Morgan stepped over and slid a key card he removed from a pocket through a slot next to the double doors. A few seconds later, they opened, and everyone entered.
He pushed a button, and the elevator began moving. Mildred thought they were going down, but she couldn’t be quite sure; the movement was smooth enough that it was hard to tell. She racked her brains to try to remember everything she knew about the old ICBM silos, which, admittedly, wasn’t very much. And what she could remember had no doubt been rendered obsolete by whatever had been done to the place after it was taken over.
About forty-five seconds later, the doors slid open again. Morgan and the doctors stepped out, but Mildred hesitated. Something didn’t feel right here.
Morgan stepped back to the entrance and extended his hand. “You had asked about our purpose, and you have arrived at it. You may as well come out and receive the answers you’re looking for.”
“Yeah...” Mildred whispered, suddenly not at all sure she wanted to see what was in the next room. While she had no illusions about possessing any extrasensory ability—certainly nothing like Krysty’s powers—even Mildred was aware that someone—no, something—very powerful was in the next room. And that it was unlike anything she had ever seen before.
You’ve faced all kinds of crazy, freaky muties in this world. You can face one more. Taking a deep breath, she muttered, “Here we go, Ryan,” as she pushed him out of the elevator and into the room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The very first thing she noticed was the darkness; the room was lit by only a few small lights, leaving the rest of the space in shadow. It was warm in there, uncomfortably so, and Mildred felt sweat begin to form on her neck and arms. The air smelled strange, almost indefinable. It was peaty, or earthy, and yet she scented the distinct odor of something animal—something alive—in here, as well.
The chamber she found herself in was round, with dull metal walls that extended roughly twenty feet up to the grated ceiling. She felt warm air wafting across the top of her head, and looked up to see several fans on the other side of the ceiling blowing air into the room. Looking back at the center, she saw something there—some kind of mass—but couldn’t make out any more detail. She took a step forward, and that was when the voice spoke.
“COME FORWARD.”
The words hit her brain like a hammer, staggering Mildred. It was a cacophony of a hundred—no, a thousand voices...young, old, male, female...all blended into one singular tone that shouted directly into her mind.
Mildred recoiled, not wanting to go any closer to whatever had just done that. She heard the voice again.
“STEP FORWARD, OR YOU WILL BE...COMPELLED.”
The words raked across her brain like a psychic assault, rendering it nearly impossible to think, the voice drowning out any semblance of coherent reasoning. Hoping it would stop if she obeyed, Mildred stumbled forward, approaching close enough to see what took up the entire center of the room.
A large container had been built here. It was partially filled with some kind of gelatinous, shimmering liquid, and rising out of it was something that she could classify only as a gigantic, gray-green, glistening-wet brain.
>
Ever since being woken from cryosleep, Mildred had seen a lot as she had traveled with the group through these blasted wastelands. She had seen all kinds of warped mutations and transformations of people and animals, from half human, half machine cyborgs to new, hideous creatures that defied rational explanation. Her life had been put in danger more than once. As horrifying as all of that had been, at this moment, seeing this—thing—pulsing with malevolent intelligence, and knowing that it was the driving force behind all of these people...
For a few moments, Mildred was on the edge of losing it right then and there. The thoughts emanating from this creature were so alien—and yet, with an unmistakable mix of human emotion as well—that it was almost too much to bear. There was a peculiar agelessness to its voice, and yet the hundreds of accompanying voices lent it the frenetic impatience of humanity, too. Dear God, what has happened here? she wondered.
The mass of pulsating matter didn’t particularly resemble a human brain, or any other kind she knew of, for that matter. At least six feet high and twice that in diameter, it was lumpy and irregularly shaped, with folds and lobes extending in every direction. Several nozzles were arranged around the tank, and as she watched, they sprayed a fine mist over the creature’s mottled, translucent skin. Mildred surmised it was some kind of nutrient liquid it lived in.
Unable to look away in spite of herself, Mildred saw that much of it was covered in what appeared to be moss or lichen, which made her frown. Her scientific curiosity reasserted itself, and she wondered what the thing was.
“YOU INQUIRE AS TO WHAT I AM, MILDRED WYETH.”
The statement rocked her again like a thunderclap going off right next to her, but Mildred found she recovered from this one a bit more easily. “Yes,” she replied.
“THERE IS NO NEED TO SPEAK YOUR WORDS. SIMPLY THINK WHATEVER QUERIES YOU MAY HAVE, AND I WILL KNOW THEM.”