by Pj Belanger
with a drain right in the middle. No windows, one door, which they slammed shut leaving him alone with his thoughts.
His mind began forming an escape plan. First he’d have to find them clothes, including shoes. He’d notice a thick metal fence that encircled the compound, but thank goodness no barbed wire ran on the top. This wasn’t a serious high-security prison. There was a small guard tower at one end, next to a compound gate. The tower provided a good view of the surrounding area. He’d bet there were cameras and spotlights on top for video-capture enhancement.
That was as far as he got when the door opened. An immense animal walked in. He had a shaving implement in every one of his four arms. The dog creature smiled, “Time for a hair shave, human scum.” The next hour was not pleasant.
He walked out of the building looking just like the other scientists. His hand went to his baldhead remembering the thick bush of hair that now lay on the cutting room floor. Although the dog’s assistants had completely washed him down, his skin felt itchy and despite the underwear he felt naked.
All seven scientists looked up when he was shoved back into the lab. All grimaced as if remembering their own ordeal. “I see you have been introduced to Morkel,” Ben sarcastically remarked. He waved his hand and all seven scientists started sarcastically barking loudly. After a few moments the guards marched in yelling, “Stop it!” Their guns pointed at the woman, “we will shoot her!”
They all shut up. The guards left slamming the door shut. “We love to irritate them,” Ben told Markus. “Come let’s bring you up to speed and get you working on something.” He winked his eye and waved the Curthian over.
The rest of the day Markus looked over the work the scientists had been doing. It was even obvious to him that the researchers had been going in circles and dragging their feet. While Ned and Mort sang the Federation Anthem as loud as they could, Ben explained, “We won’t be able to fool them much longer. From what I’ve gathered some of their own researchers are due here any time. They’ll know we haven’t gotten much accomplished.”
“Just a few more days,” Markus assured him. “Fool them just for a couple of more days.”
As night fell, the guards gave them a bowl full of brown slop. It smelled horrible; his sensitive nose smelled something strange. The slop was laced with sleeping inducements. He took his own bowl and dumped it down the bathroom toilet.
“You should eat,” Ben explained that the food was all they got - once a day. Then as night began to fall the eight scientists were locked into the windowless bunkhouse. Ted had warned him to use the bathroom as the bunkhouse door was not unlocked until morning.
The tiny enclosure was stuffy and the cot was saggy. In the total darkness Ben’s voice carried over to the Curthian, “We can talk freely in here. I have scoured the room and there are no bugs. I guess they think there is nothing of importance we will say in here.”
Or they think you’re drugged so they needn’t worry, Markus’ angry brain thought.
“Who are you?” Shana’s bed was next to him. “Really, who are you?” she repeated. “I don’t see how you can get us out of here. Are you some super human rescuer?”
“I belong to a special hostage rescue unit,” he replied to the darkness that seemed absolute. It amazed him that the researchers had not lost their minds being cooped up as they were. “I will get you out, trust me.”
“It would be nice to see my little girl again,” Molt’s voice almost sobbed. “I’ve adjusted myself to dying.”
“Come on Molt, we have to keep our spirits up,” Ben said. “Tell us your plans Doctor Mase, give us some hope.”
“Call me Markus, I’m not a doctor of biochemistry. My degree is in self-defense and self-preservation. I will get you to the small beach I saw when I was flown in. There will be rescue boats looking for our signal. You’ll have to trust me that I can do this. Whatever I tell you to do - you must do it. No questions asked! Understand?”
Seven “yeses” came from the darkness.
“When can you do this?” It was Shana again. The female researcher had moved to sit next to him. “I’ll admit it, I’m not ready to die.” She sobbed then seemed to catch herself taking a deep breath. Markus put his arm around her shoulders and hugged. Just the closeness of her body seemed to comfort his own fears that had been edging in since coming to this hell island. The isolation and total disregard for their wellbeing was daunting.
“We will have to get out of here soon. No later than the day after tomorrow as this island will cease to exist after that. I will get us out.” The woman scientist took one last deep breath, squeezed his hand and then left.
Around midnight, hearing the deep soft snores of his fellow prisoners. He had no doubt the scientists were drugged until morning. Markus rolled out of bed. His eyes became shiny like a cat allowing him night vision. Silently, he approached the door. Using the screwdriver that he’d gotten out of the bathroom just before being locked up, he picked open the door’s lock.
The Curthian had already turned his body as black as it would go so that he could blend with the night unseen. He crossed the lab, the glow of the computer screens throwing eerie shadows against the walls. The lab’s door was not even locked. They were obviously not worried about a prisoners’ escape. Outside, he flattened himself against the dark wooden building, getting his bearings.
It took several minutes for him to scope out the courtyard. He noticed the tower had small lights on. There was clearly someone up there but the lack of guards in the compound made him doubly cautious. He edged his way toward the largest building.
It was obviously the soldiers’ barracks as it was covered in small opening windows, probably sleeping quarters. At the end was a covered screened-in eating space with picnic tables filling the area. The mess kitchen was probably attached. He kept a wide berth of this facility, instead heading to a metal type hanger.
It was a good thing that he’d not let his guard down as two Bothians came into the courtyard. Both were heavily armed but were not on alert as they rambled along. “Did you check the gate?” one guard asked the other.
“Yeah, all locked up and quiet. Want to play some cards?” he asked.
“Only if you promise not to cheat!” the soldier chided the other. “It is so fucking boring. Soon it should be interesting with the top brass visiting. You can bet we will eat well then.” Markus wondered if they played four handed. He actually smiled at the thought of the four-armed dogs cheating themselves.
“Yeah, we spent the day cleaning the compound. Those damn humans ain’t worth it. I say kill them now and be done with it.”
“Soon enough,” the second soldier sounded annoyed. “I guess the command is coming to see if it is worth keeping them.”
“It ain’t,” his companion laughingly asserted. “I heard they aren’t getting the results top command wants. That’s why they are sending someone to check.” They moved out of range, probably heading towards a place to play cards.
Markus breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward a side door of the hanger. To his surprise the door wasn’t locked. Evidently the Bothians weren’t worried about the scientists escaping. They must figure the island impenetrable. Stupid dogs, Markus thought, better for me.
He carefully scanned the area. The hanger was almost completely opened with several helicopters stored in the center. He headed towards the side rooms. Each room proved to be a storage area for supplies. In one room he found a flashlight. He scoured the room but found only one. It would have to do!
Another room seemed more organized and used. It was in this room, in a closet, that he found the scientists’ army uniforms, including his own. The clothes had all been stuffed into a large black garbage type bag. He searched the room and found an empty bag. He filled it with rags he’d seen in another room. When it looked about the same size as the uniform bag he stuffed it back in. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice until after they had escaped.
Markus did not find their boots. Damn dogs are proba
bly wearing them! silently came into his head. He put the bag just outside the door. It was heavy. He would have to bulk up his body making his arms muscle-bound. This would allow him to carry the bag back to their prison, but first things first. He had to search so he could report to the army command what exactly was happening on this hellhole island.
He inched down the hallway. His sensitive nose picked up on the smell of blue fur. It warned him before he saw the guard in the back part of the hanger. Using his sensitive cat eyes, he watched the sentry. The canine did not move. The Major realized the creature was sitting on the floor with its back against the wall sleeping. Shit! He needed to see what was in the back part of the hanger. He’d already seen the crates stacked almost to the ceiling and needed to know what was in them.
He looked down at his left hand. A long sharp talon that could be recessed appeared. Wincing, the Curthian grew it until it was long enough to stab the Bothian guard if he needed kill him. Falling to his knees, his legs became sleek with four paws. Markus hung close to the wall creeping forward like a cat, silently approaching the crates. He was so close he could hear the guard snoring. Tons of crates lined the back walls. Approaching the boxes, the Major drew back in surprise - way back!
The crates were marked with the universal radioactive warning symbol.