Dark Tales From the Secret War

by John Houlihan

  “Those goggles they’re wearing aren’t normal glass,” he said. “I’m guessing they’ll spot us quick enough if we try to walk up and chat. I need one drawn away so I have time to work.”

  Sergeant Perkins drew a path in the air. “Save your strength this time. Molly and I will work around to the far side and signal when we’re in position. Danston, can you hit them from here and give us an opening?”

  The gunner grinned. “Sure as I can write my name in yellow snow.”

  Perkins and Molly melted into the shadows, leaving the Majestic agents to wait.

  Danston secured a silencer on his stolen Luger. “Think if we find a few folks down there while lookin’ for the doc, we can slip ‘em out too?”

  Elwood scanned the area, tensed for another unexpected vision. “Not likely. Any time we take freeing others is more opportunity to get caught. We have to focus on Wesselton, and it’ll be a slog enough bundling him off to the rendezvous.”

  Danston scowled. “Ain’t right. Ain’t right leavin’ anyone here to suffer. Why’s this egghead worth so much trouble?”

  “The doctor already had a number of breakthroughs in neurophysiology and robotics before the war broke out — discoveries and developments that could be weaponised rather easily if they fell into the wrong hands. HQ figures that’s why he was kidnapped in the first place. We got lucky spotting him before he was tucked away here. Nachtwölfe is dangerous enough on their own without having a mind like Wesselton’s working for them.”

  Danston sighed and sighted over at the guards. “What’s so scary about these Nachtwölfe bastards, anyhoo?”

  “Can you make out the discs that one guard is carrying? The ones strapped to his waist? And that bulge on his back?”

  “Yup. He got explosives in his backpack or somethin’?”

  “It’s not a backpack. It’s a power source of a sort. Not the exact same as they used on us before, but intel reports their troops using similar weapons to shatter men’s bones and flip tanks through the air without touching them. And that’s not the worst trick they’ve got up their sleeves. Not by half.”

  Danston grunted. “Gimme a good clean bullet to the brain over a buncha showy gimmicks any day.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m thinking that’s our signal.”

  They looked to shack, where the sergeant’s arm had thrust out and made a fist.

  Quicker than Elwood could follow, Danston sighted across the field and fired off four shots, two for each target. Even with the silencer, the hits sounded horribly loud, and Elwood cringed, waiting for the base to erupt in sirens and shouts.

  The soldier on the left went down without fanfare. The second just staggered back and shook himself as if shrugging off a haymaker in a bar brawl. He grabbed the discs off his belt and held them up like shields.

  Danston cocked to fire again, but Elwood yanked his arm down as Perkins and Molly raced around from opposite sides of the shack. Elwood gritted his teeth as he pulled Danston into a run, though he knew they’d never make it in time.

  The disc-wielding soldier turned, raising one arm. A harsh thrumming vibrated Elwood’s teeth and he felt more than saw an invisible pulse clip the sergeant and send him spinning to the earth.

  “Shit!” Danston jerked free and raised his gun.

  “Wait —”

  At Danston’s third shot, the soldier’s pack erupted in a crackle of blue flame and sparks. The man screamed and dropped the discs, trying to spin and beat at the fire strapped to his back.

  Screaming, Elwood writhed on the ground as the strange lightning engulfed him. A moment later, an explosion shook the area. Hot metal slag ripped into his arm and chewed up the dirt right by his head. Hellish green light blinded him, and then the night went black again.

  Ignoring the electrical discharges, Molly ran in and grabbed the flailing man’s head. A sharp twist silenced his cries and dropped him limp to the snow, where the vile flames continued to eat away at his clothes.

  Elwood and Danston ran up just as Sergeant Perkins rose on wobbly legs. Elwood stared at the man, having expected to find a corpse with skull and ribs caved in. The sergeant just shook off his daze and Molly’s concerned fumblings and herded them toward the door the dead soldiers had guarded.

  “Inside. Our timeline just tightened.”

  Even as he spoke, dogs barked in the distance and flashlights swept the far border of the weapons field. The dead man’s energy pack continued to sizzle and spark, acting like a beacon in the night.

  The team slipped into the shed and down a flight of concrete stairs to a locked door. Molly drew out a lock pick and went to work on the latch while the others trained their guns on the upper level, waiting for the inevitable.

  Then the door opened and the team hustled into a long, bland corridor. The door latched behind them and they surveyed their new surroundings.

  Sergeant Perkins and Danston led the way, Elwood and Molly keeping an eye on the way they’d come. They tracked muddy snow along the hall as they prowled deeper into the complex, following a series of twisting walkways that intersected, sloped, and cut off into oddly angled side tunnels lit by naked bulbs behind wire mesh. Few doors offered themselves in this section, and Danston checked each doorknob they came to.

  The fourth door opened… and then flung wide, leaving them staring at the surprised face of a lab-coated young man with a shock of platinum white hair and bright green eyes.

  “Vas ist —” the man began.

  Danston cracked him up under the chin with the butt of his gun. The man stumbled back and the four of them barged into the small office and slammed the door behind. The doctor — as Elwood assumed he was — boggled up at them from where he’d fallen beside a desk, one hand pressed to stem the blood dribbling from his gashed jaw.

  While the others kept their weapons trained on both their unexpected captive and the door in turn, Elwood crouched and braced wrists on his knees. The doctor’s gaze met his and that provided all the opening he needed.

  He woke in the same way as he’d fallen unconscious — crying out in agony and fright. The nurses at the makeshift medical tent had to sedate him twice before he finally got his bearings and stopped fighting them off. After two weeks of listening to other soldiers die in their cots, after accidentally casting that first spell to make a persistent doctor leave him alone and being paralyzed by the first visions… he received a visitor. He didn’t need much convincing to train and employ his new “gift” to help Majestic fight their secret war.

  The German doctor gazed up at Elwood in total submission. Elwood tried to stop retching as quickly as possible. He only had a few minutes before the spell wore off.

  “Do you speak English?”

  The doctor nodded. “Ja. A little.”

  “Dr. Wesselton. You know where he is?”

  “Wesselton. Yes. Herr Doktor. Second level. Surgery lab.”

  “Don’t like the sound of that,” Danston said.

  Elwood shushed him, remaining fixed on the doctor. “You will believe one of the prisoners tried to attack you. We subdued him and are now escorting you down to surgery to fix the wound. You will take us to Dr. Wesselton and then leave without question.”

  “Ja. I can take you. Please, follow.” He rose, using a corner of his lab coat to soak up the blood.

  They trailed after him, and Elwood’s unease grew with each step. They passed a couple of labs that looked more like machine shops than any sort of medical facility, with racks of metal-smithing equipment alongside massive benches crowded with tools. In one room, scientists conferred over mechanical blueprints and x-rays of human skeletons.

  He wanted to have the doctor explain what sort of work they did, but pressing the man too much could snap him out of the spell. The more routine and simple the implanted commands, the less resistance the victim demonstrated.

  He kept checking behind them, willing the doctor to hurry up. But running would only draw unwanted attention. They passed through two guarded door
s, but were admitted without question. No shouts or shots from back the way they came…yet. By now the dead soldiers had to have been found.

  They trekked down several flights of stairs and out into a wider corridor lined with windows from floor to ceiling. Danston made a choking noise and Elwood had to stop himself from blurting out in dismay.

  Rows of steel surgery tables stretched off into the distance, most populated by strapped-down prisoners in various states of dress and dissection. Bodies lay drained of blood, arms and legs and torsos cut wide to allow the insertion of metal frameworks and wiring. Other prisoners yet breathed, but only because of inflating and deflating plastic bladders pumping their chests. Yet more had portions of skin and bone removed and replaced with steel panelling, or had whole arms and legs swapped out for crude mechanical limbs.

  Each table held a new horror. Half-a-dozen other doctors bustled about, pumping fluids, carving with scalpels, removing body parts with great care. Even with the massive windows, the corridor stank of dried blood muddled with a harsh antiseptic reek.

  Elwood and his companions glanced at each other, and even Molly looked as if she fought to rein in her disgust. Perkins signed for her and Danston to take up sentry posts at the main entrance. Neither looked happy about it, but obeyed.

  Then Elwood kept his breathing as steady as possible as the doctor escorted him and the sergeant to the far end of the chamber and waved for them to enter. A sliding curtain concealed the back half of the room; Elwood morbidly wondered why some of the prisoners were given a modicum of privacy as they were taken apart.

  The door shut behind them, soundproofing the room.

  “Yes?” came an English voice from behind the curtain. “I am busy.”

  Elwood strode over and pulled the curtain aside, revealing a grey-haired man in a bloodstained lab coat bent over another prisoner. He recognized Dr. Wesselton from the pre-mission briefing — and also noted his patient was somehow still alive, evidenced by his twitching fingers and fluttering eyelids. Part of his scalp had been carved away, revealing glistening brain matter.

  “Dr. Wesselton.” Perkins stepped up and nodded. “Sergeant Perkins of the British Army. We’re here to get you out, sir.”

  Dr. Wesselton didn’t look up from inserting an electrical probe into the patient’s skull. “Yes, I sensed you coming.”

  The two men exchanged confused looks.

  “Sensed us?” echoed Elwood.

  Dr. Wesselton pointed straight to Elwood without looking. “Him. I sensed a new vessel when you used your power to gain entry. I gave orders to let you come to me so your flesh would not be damaged. Those soldiers who fell to you on the way in have been proven unworthy.”

  “Orders?” The sergeant’s frown deepened. “Doctor, are you saying you’ve allied yourself with your captors?”

  The doctor straightened and went to wash his hands in a corner sink. “My time here has been enlightening. I have everything I need to reach my goal. Why should it matter where I do so? Transporting me would simply waste time.”

  “What goal?” Elwood asked.

  In answer, the doctor went to a small metal box set off to one side, engraved with sharp-angled designs that hurt Elwood’s eyes. The doctor opened it, revealing a jagged chunk of blue crystal the size of a man’s palm. He held it up on his fingertips and a subtle background humming grew louder to Elwood’s ears.

  Dr. Wesselton whispered in reverence. “This is essence of a god. One to whom whole eons pass like a mere moment. I am but a temporary vessel and his presence within me has a cost. I will not live much longer, but I have prepared the way by pursuing the perfection of the human form.”

  Elwood stared aghast at the macabre subjects on display. “You and I have very different ideas of perfection.”

  Wesselton’s eyes locked on Elwood, a fell light gleaming in them. “I have been probing your memories the closer you came. You contain much potential. With Daoloth coming to dwell in your evolved mind and the enhancements I can give to your body, you will become immortal.”

  A cold chill prickle up Elwood’s spine and he took an instinctive step back. This man was somehow responsible for the extra visions he’d had? Perkins caught him by the elbow.

  “What do you think is going on here?”

  Elwood lowered his voice for a quick, quiet conference. “Either his time as a prisoner has broken his sanity or he’s telling the truth and we’ve walked into a trap. Could be both.”

  Perkins looked out to Molly and Danston and made the sign for impending danger. As they went tense, guns drawn, the sergeant then waved Elwood over to the doctor. “Make him comply. The knowledge he has could be valuable if we make him see reason.”

  Dr. Wesselton cocked an eyebrow at Elwood. “That would not be wise.”

  “Sorry, Doctor,” said Elwood. “But we’re on a tight schedule as it is.”

  The doctor smiled sadly. “Time means nothing to one who will never die.” Just as Elwood concentrated on the spell, Wesselton raised the crystal higher and a ray of unholy light shot out from it.

  The light struck Elwood and flung him back against the plate window hard enough to crack it. His head smashed into the glass. His vision flickered grey and he struggled not to slump to the floor. By the time he recovered, Perkins had his sidearm trained on Wesselton.

  “Put the gem down, Doctor! This is your only warning!”

  Wesselton wore a look of rapture as the crystal brightened. Countless rays of cerulean light exploded out, gaining substance. They shattered glass and smoked the walls and floor where they struck. None came anywhere near Elwood, however.

  Perkins bellowed and fired an instant before a shaft of energy hit him in the chest. Both he and the doctor staggered and dropped simultaneously. The crystal rolled from Wesselton’s hand, but the light at its core intensified.

  Elwood fell to his knees, half-blinded by the impossible star-like flare. He somehow knew if it reached an unknown culmination, it would trigger a catastrophic event. He crawled on all fours past the unmoving Perkins and snatched up the crystal. The instant he clutched it, the blaze winked out

  A slithering murmur awoke in his mind and a renewed sense of energy coursed through him. He lurched to his feet and turned to Perkins just as Danston and Molly raced in.

  “What the hell happened?” Danston cried. “Did he have a bomb?”

  A keening wail drew his attention to Molly, who’d fallen over Perkins’ body. The woman sobbed wordlessly. It was only then that Elwood noticed the six-inch wide hole charred straight through the man’s chest.

  Danston’s face fell. “Aw, damn…” He glanced back up to the hall. “Aw, dammit!”

  A squad of eight Nazis raced into the corridor, assault rifles readied. Other scientists fled past them, pointing to the trio of agents. The soldiers eased down the corridor, barking orders.

  Danston sighed and reached for his guns. “Well, it’s been a right fun time. Howsabout we take a few of these bastards down with us?”

  Elwood thrust an arm out, stopping him from launching a suicidal final assault. He displayed the crystal. “We can’t let them keep this.”

  “Don’t look like they’re just gonna let us saunter out.”

  Elwood looked at him sidelong. “They may just.”

  He strode out into the hall. The crystal vibrated in his hand, whispers rising from the shadows of his mind, telling him such sweet and horrible secrets. The soldiers shouted for him to kneel, and he now understood the German as if he’d been born to it. He knew he would be understood in return. He raised his hands and stared at their faces, opening the channel in his mind and latching onto each of theirs in one psychic sweep of control.

  “Ready.”

  They lowered their rifles from him and came to attention.

  “Aim.”

  Pointed them at one another.

  “Fire.”

  A brief swell of rebellion rippled back against his influence, but the crystal’s power eroded it an instant la
ter. The soldiers pulled their triggers in unison and eight bodies crashed to the floor in a thunder of rifle fire.

  “Holy hells.” Danston appeared beside him, slack jawed.

  The lack of visions after casting the spell didn’t reassure Elwood, for he sensed his old terrors were being shoved aside in lieu of a new nightmare oozing its way into his mind and soul. Who knew how long he had before his thoughts twisted like Wesselton’s?

  They followed him out, and he stopped any soldiers they encountered so Danston could peg them with a headshot. The man didn’t look all too thrilled at it, though. Each time Elwood took control, it became a tiny bit harder to reel his influence back in, to not scour every mind bare and leave the person a gibbering wreck for no other reason than he possessed the power to do so.

  Or that it now possessed him.

  After they secured a truck, Danston also got his create-a-diversion wish and pumped a few rounds into the fuel tanks as they drove away. The resulting explosions and raging fire ensured no eyes were around to track them as they smashed out of a side gate. Elwood drove a few miles down the road and then pulled off to the side, at the mouth of a slim gully that headed up into the mountains. He hopped out, but then realized they were minus one.

  “Where’d Molly go?”

  Danston got out and looked around in bewilderment. “Huh. Dunno. Must’ve slipped off when we weren’t lookin’.” He hunched against the bitter wind. “But I got a feelin’ that girl knows how to make her own way out. You just takin’ one last look at the scenery before we head to the rendezvous point?”

  Elwood shook his head. “Danston, you’re a good man. I know I can trust you.”

  “With what?”

  Elwood touched the crystal tucked into his jacket. “I can’t return with you. I have to go find a way to destroy this or hide it forever. But…” He met the man’s eyes, feeling the growing desire to strip Danston’s sanity simply for the pleasure of it. He resisted. Barely. “…if you ever see me again, shoot me on sight. No hesitation, no questions.”