by W D County
“Bring him out,” Gordon said.
Sonja flipped a switch. A low hum filled the air, matched by a deep vibration that permeated walls, floor, equipment, bones, and flesh. A baseball-size translucent sphere of shifting rainbow hues appeared next to the device and pulsed in sync with the vibration. Sonja adjusted her controls and the sphere moved to the airlock of the vault, where it expanded to a seven-foot diameter.
With a maniacal grin, she depressed a red button. “Here goes.” The sphere distorted, becoming a torus and then a hollow cylinder with colored fractal walls.
Barry, naked and apparently unself-conscious, walked out of the vault through the ghostlike airlock. Doc scurried forward and helped him don a set of white coveralls, black boots, and dark glasses. With every inch of skin covered, Barry reminded Zita of the invisible man from the novel by H.G. Wells, although Barry possessed powers far more dangerous than the fictional character.
Gordon stepped up to Barry. “How does it feel to be a free man again?”
“I’m living my dream,” Barry answered with a slightly muffled voice. “I suppose most of you feel that way.” He turned to Nathan. “Where is Miles?”
“Locked in his room. Mad as a bull in a pen with a cowboy on his back.”
Silent alarms rang in Zita’s head. She approached the un-invisible man. “Barry, what’s this all about?”
“Contrary to what you believe, I want only what’s best for humanity. A world in harmony. In peace. Where no one suffers.”
He sounded like he believed his own bullshit. Zita wished she could see his body so she could read the taint the way she could read the expressions on the team members’ faces. Gordon and Nathan smirked behind Barry’s back. Doc looked ashamed. Sonja patted her device with evident pride. Laura seemed distraught. John seemed anxious. The faces of the three explorers remained vacant.
“I’d like to stay in your office until it’s time,” Barry said to Gordon. “I need to pray. The future lies heavy on my soul.”
“Of course.” They headed for the exit.
Zita couldn’t let him leave yet, not until she tested a theory. “Barry! If you’re really divine, you should be able to perform miracles.”
He turned around. “Isn’t that what I’ve done?”
“No. It’s been the taint.”
“It does my will. There is no distinction.”
She believed there was a distinction. The taint did everyone’s will. “Do a miracle now. Restore the minds of those explorers. You do care about them, right?”
Barry removed his glasses and she caught sight of kaleidoscope irises orbiting black holes. His gaze fell on the explorers, and he stared at them a long time, at least a full minute. He sighed. “Their minds are gone. There is nothing to bring back.”
Zita wanted more of a reaction. “You can resurrect John but can’t heal three living people? People you know?”
Doubt filled his eyes, then vanished as arrogance masquerading as confidence took its place. “I’ll do better than that, Ms. Ferrari. I’ll cure Miles of his blindness.” He slipped his glasses on again and turned to the door.
“He’ll kill you.”
“Yes, I believe he will.” The nonchalance in his voice set off more alarms. The team followed Barry out, leaving her alone with Nathan. Ugh.
Nothing made sense. Most of the team wanted Barry dead, yet pretended otherwise to his face. Were they planning a public execution? If they wanted him dead, why not hit the kill switch? Why did Miles have to be the killer? Was the timing important? It implied they wanted the taint to reach total coverage—very dangerous.
The questions were clues to a puzzle. Solving it had a fast-approaching deadline.
She sashayed to Nathan and placed a hand on his arm. “How long until the show?”
He pressed two fingers to his forehead, lowered them, and grinned. “Little over an hour.”
“Why does it need to be broadcast?”
“My telepathy only works on people who’ve seen the taint. After we publicize Barry’s original video and provide a little live show, I’ll be able to read anyone. Imagine the possibilities!”
She did. “And Gordon’s okay with that?”
“We have an understanding.”
I’m sure you do. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She forced herself to imagine his naked body entwined with hers and allowed those images to float on the surface of her mind. He wrapped an arm around her. Her pulse quickened. Hopefully he couldn’t read the difference between anxiety and excitement, although it probably wouldn’t matter. Anxiety always preceded sex with a new partner.
“We could go to my room,” he said.
“I’d like that,” she said softly. It took massive concentration to make revulsion sound like attraction and feel genuine. She lacked experience telling lies. Maybe she could fantasize of Miles while seducing Nathan. No, bad idea. Because then she’d remember Nathan when (if) she ever chose to be intimate with Miles. That would be a real nightmare.
“Your thoughts are murky, Zita. Nervous?”
“A little. A lot, actually.”
“Relax. It’ll be the best experience of your life.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I bet you’ll find it memorable as well.”
***
The cuffs kept my body taut, which prevented me from building up momentum or gaining enough leverage to break the bed frame. I tried anyway and managed to wear bloody rings around my wrists. Ankles, too, judging from the stickiness of my socks. Slick left me locked up alone with my thoughts, and they were not pleasant company. As a sniper, I’d killed with pride but never with pleasure. For Nathan Lee I’d make an exception.
Hercules, strongest of the mythic heroes, could have snapped these chains. My attempts didn’t come close. Curses and grunts didn’t help. Rage and frustration ran an endless marathon, goading each other on until both collapsed in exhaustion. A sense of doom settled on me like vultures on carrion. How did one chicken-shit stateside mission get totally FUBAR? In a word, me. I’d warned Hauser that I wasn’t the guy he needed. He made the decision anyway, and a Marine follows orders. I tried and failed. That was the simple, ugly truth. But the consequences of my failure extended far beyond me. Choirboy intended to butt-fuck the entire world for the greater glory of God.
I strained against the chains again. Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled into my eyes. I flung the droplets away with violent jerks. I hadn’t felt so completely helpless—and guilty—since high school. Since Lucy.
Don’t go there. That horror lay in decades in the past and needed to stay there. I blanked my mind the way I did before squeezing the trigger. Blank. Blank. Blank. I needed a rifle. Needed a target. Needed to stop the loathsome creature prowling through my mind and chewing on my soul. Needed to kill it before it killed me.
All I could do was stare at the ceiling.
Unable to fight and unable to flee, I screamed. Screamed and thrashed and begged for the memories to stay buried. Blood seeped from my wrists. Gray, gray, gray. The memories burst through. I fought to push them back into the buried but undead past.
Chapter 47
The first thing Zita noticed when Nathan opened the door to his room was the scent of sandalwood and lavender. The fragrance came from a cone of incense smoldering in a small holder on his dresser. Next she noticed additional pillows on the bed (probably scavenged from the unused rooms) and a second nightstand (no doubt scavenged as well). Then she saw the framed photographs on the wall. A dozen of them. Each picture showed Nathan posing with a celebrity or famous politician. Did he actually travel with publicity photographs in his bag? The performer took narcissism to new heights.
“Do we need an audience?” she said, referring to the three mindless minions who followed them into the room.
Responding to a silent command, the trio shuffled out and closed the door.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded and continued to survey the room. He kept things clea
n and organized, much as Miles did. Wow, I found one thing I like about this guy. Then she saw a shipping box on the floor next to dresser. The box with the missing Pavloks.
Nathan laughed. “Yes, I took them. Not that it matters now. The taint is far beyond such minor distractions.” He raised a hand and a drawer in the desk slid open. A candle levitated from within it, turned vertical, and settled onto a ceramic coaster. He pulled a butane lighter from his pocket, snapped a flame into existence, and sent the fire floating to the candle’s wick.
The room lights went out with a click of the untouched switch.
“Let’s get comfortable,” he said. The sway of the flame made his shadow dance on the wall. He produced a pistol from behind his back (probably taken from Miles) and set it on the nightstand. He unbuckled his belt.
Zita felt distinctly uncomfortable but smiled seductively. “You have a flair for romantic atmosphere.” She glanced toward the bathroom. “I need a moment to freshen up.”
“By all means.”
She closed the door and turned on the bathroom light, squinting against the sudden brightness. She frowned at her image in the mirror and stuck out her tongue when it frowned back. It was marginally easier to think in here, where she didn’t have to keep facial expressions and body language in sync with a façade of surface thoughts and emotions.
Beneath the mental camouflage, she wracked her brain for a workable plan to overcome Nathan and free Miles. Telepathy she could handle—was handling—but telekinesis created a whole new set of problems. She’d need to incapacitate him fast, almost instantly, or he’d simply levitate her into impotence. Sex made men vulnerable, but how far was she willing to go?
Not very. Enough to capture his full attention. Unfortunately, her physical reactions needed to be genuine. Much as she didn’t want to, she’d have to fantasize about Miles. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. Mr. Strong, Silent type. Soldier of fortune. Defender of the weak. In boxer shorts. What lurked behind that cotton curtain? The room grew warmer.
A rudimentary plan took shape as she stripped naked save for her beloved top hat. She turned off the light and stepped into the bedroom, moving slowly as her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight. Nathan lay atop the bed, naked and already hard. She could sense his eagerness. Foreplay would be brief, limiting her opportunities to subdue him. She set the top hat on the nightstand on her side of the bed.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then you can’t fuck me.”
Invisible hands lifted her from the floor, turned her horizontal, and positioned her face down a few inches above Nathan. “What beautiful eyes you have, Zita.”
“Let me go,” she hissed.
Against her will, her lips puckered. He leaned up and kissed her. His penis brushed against her vulva. She squirmed but couldn’t move her arms or legs. Fuck. Maybe not the best choice of expletive, since he could read her mind. Her body lowered a couple inches, pressing her nipples into his chest and her vaginal cleft into more intimate contact with his dick.
“I heard you like bondage. Is that right? You like to be forced?”
Her mouth could move again. She could curse. She could spit. She could scream. None of those choices would help. So she moaned softly. “Oh god, Nathan. This is so hot.”
He grinned.
She pressed her pelvis to his. “I need to feel you inside me.”
“Bareback?”
She hesitated only a second. “Yes. Just don’t come inside me.”
His smirk said the decision wasn’t hers to make. The invisible restraints withdrew and her entire weight settled onto him. She pushed herself into a sitting position and straddled him. She reached down and eased his hardness into her. In the deep recesses of her mind she wanted to blank out conscious awareness and pretend this wasn’t happening, but the illusion had to be maintained for as long as he could read minds. She rocked forward and back, gasping in apparent ecstasy. Her arms were free. She caressed his chest. She leaned forward and kissed his lips.
He arched his back to thrust deeply into her. She moaned into his mouth and prayed he wasn’t quick on the trigger.
She leaned back. His eyes were half-closed, all attention focused on his dick. She leaned forward again and reached toward his nightstand. Her fingers closed around the pistol. She leaned back and clenched her vaginal muscles. He moaned.
Gripping the barrel with both hands, she smashed the back side of the gun directly between his eyes. Hard. Harder than she’d ever hit anyone or anything. She felt bone crunch. His body spasmed and went still.
She rolled off the limp body and deflating member. She touched herself. He hadn’t ejaculated, thank God. She checked his pulse. Still alive. Also good. She didn’t want to kill him. She reached under her top hat and retrieved a pair of handcuffs which she used to secure his wrists to the bed’s head rail. The cuffs looked like normal police handcuffs, but they didn’t open with a key. Only a specific sequence of twists, pushes, and pulls on the connecting chain link would release the catch. She hoped telekinesis didn’t provide insight to mechanical puzzles.
She dressed, rummaged through his pants, and found the master key card and a key to real handcuffs. She opened the door and stepped into the hall. The three silent sentries completely ignored her. She eased past them and rushed to Miles’s room, the one nearest the security office. It opened with the master key card.
“Come on, Miles, we don’t have much...”
The room was empty.
Chapter 48
Gordon settled onto the swivel chair in the security office and briefly scanned the monitors. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he took out his cell. “Colonel, is everything ready at your end?”
“Ready and filled with misgivings. You sure about this?” came a tired-sounding reply.
“Second thoughts?”
“What did you say to Admiral Turner to get him to sign off on this stunt?”
“A public broadcast is our best chance to goad whoever is behind this taint phenomenon to reveal themselves.” Which isn’t a lie, thought Gordon, although it didn’t matter to him whether or not the unknown source of the taint made itself known. What mattered was him coming out of this mess as a hero and a rising star.
“Doesn’t Barry’s plan bother you?” Hauser asked.
Hauser’s attitude was annoying. “It isn’t Barry’s plan. It’s my plan. One that the NSA, the Joint Chiefs, and the president himself agreed has the best chance of capitalizing on what we’ve learned while at the same time eliminating future risk.”
“No. I meant Barry’s plan to convert the world. His claim of being divine.”
“You believe that nonsense?”
Hauser sighed. “I suppose not.”
“Then stop whining. I have this covered.”
***
It took Sonja only minutes to connect and test the cameras, monitors, microphones, and lights in the conference room. She told Gordon it would take an hour, which gave her time to embed digital equations and schematics of her permeation machine into Barry’s video of the tesseract. No one would notice the extra data at first. By the time anyone did, there would be a thousand copies in the hands of scientists and engineers.
She finished the secret encoding and rushed to see Barry, the source of grayness. She dared not wait, for once Barry disappeared, Gordon would surely confiscate her notes and equipment. Maybe lock her up as well.
The trio of former explorers stood outside Nathan’s room. They paid no heed as she hurried to Gordon’s office, where Barry now resided. She carried a flashlight in one pocket of her lab coat, and a pad of red stickies in the other pocket.
“Barry,” she said to the man levitating above the desk. “I need your help.”
His smiling face looked serene in the ambient blue light. “I know. The permutation process requires gray matter.”
“As a catalyst,” she agreed. “A necessary ingredient but one that is not consumed by the process. If you
could drain color from these tabs, I would be grateful.”
“You fear I will not survive the coming trial.”
The comment took her aback. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Actually, she didn’t care if he lived or died. What mattered was the contribution she was making to physics. She spread the sticky tabs across the surface of the desk and shone the flashlight on them.
“As James 1:17 states, ‘Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God the Father, who created all the lights in the heavens.’”
Sonja scooped up the grayed tabs and stuffed them in her pocket. She’d cut them into smaller pieces later, enough to power a thousand devices. The taint had spread significantly, but hadn’t reached totality. She surprised herself by bowing as she backed out of the room.
***
Doc rummaged through the shelves in the pharmacy cabinet until he found the vial of memerase, the name almost eclipsed by multiple warning labels. The experimental and highly dangerous drug used a mixture of histone deacetylase inhibitor, scopolamine, and propranolol to produce a hypnotic-type state during which selective retrograde amnesia could be induced. The CIA and DoD found it useful for non-lethal neutralizing of witnesses to covert ops.
Doc hoped it would trigger memory response in the grays. Their blood possessed healing powers exactly as his dream predicted, but their goo obviously didn’t cure amnesia. Neither did the original goo made from Barry’s blood. It seemed plausible that the goo didn’t recognize missing memories as an injury. He hoped that injecting a drug known to cause amnesia would trigger a response similar to the goo’s cure for poisons. If so, the missing memories might come back.
A long shot, but he had to try. Otherwise he was simply harvesting their blood, treating them as a vampire would treat its victims. He’d sworn a sacred oath decades ago to do no harm. He intended to honor that pledge. And yet for the good of the many, he hoped the treatment failed.
The three patients stood outside Nathan’s room, most likely standing guard while the arrogant young pup seduced Ms. Ferrari. Couldn’t he see the girl had eyes only for the Marine? Of course he did—and he took it as a challenge to woo her away from Miles. Oh, the foolishness of men in their prime.