Extensis Vitae (4 page)

“Screw you,” came Nash’s reply.

Reznik was more interested in the hostages than the banter. Although they all wore uniforms, two of them were clearly civilians from their looks and mannerisms. The four soldiers sat silently in a circle while the two civilians talked in hushed tones. The older man was clearly in charge, the younger civilian nodding and occasionally offering a reply. The older man got to his feet as the platoon sergeant called out, “Chopper will be here in ten mikes.”

The man made his way over to where the four of them sat. “Gentlemen, I’m Gerald Black, DARPA Special Projects.” He was probably in his late fifties, with a beard and bent glasses that hung crookedly on his nose. “I’d just like to thank you all for saving our lives.” His face was bruised and dried blood was on his chin from a split lip, but his blue eyes burned with sharp intelligence. He extended his hand.

Reznik and the others shook it and muttered their replies.

“If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just say it.”

“We appreciate that, sir,” Reznik replied and the others agreed.

“Actually, sir, there is one little thing,” Nash began. “This is sorta on the DL, but we had a bottle of Jack that finds itself empty. If you ever come across anything like that around base camp, we’d be very appreciative if you didn’t forget us.” He grinned.

Black smiled in return. “Well, I suppose that’s the least I could do, my friends. Although, George Austin would chew my ass if he found out. That’s all right, though—he and I go way back. He can’t really do anything to me, anyway, other than give me a hard time. Well, thank you again, gentlemen, and hopefully I can repay you with more than a bottle of whiskey someday.”

Reznik watched him walk away, wondering who this man was if he was on a first name basis with the commanding general of Joint Special Operations Command. The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency was the Pentagon’s secret gadget shop that came up with a lot of the hot new tech and crazy gadgets that the Special Ops world was so fond of. The man definitely had some connections, Reznik knew.

Mr. Black was true to his word. A couple days later, after they returned to the hut from the mess hall, a whole case of Jack Daniels sat on top of one of the footlockers.

***

A buzzer woke Reznik. He sprang to his feet, neck stiff from the uncomfortable sofa he’d fallen asleep on while waiting for Swanson’s summons.

“Mr. Reznik, it’s Myrna,” came the familiar voice through the intercom. “Administrator Swanson will see you now.”

Reznik straightened his utility uniform and went to the door. This time, it slid open on his approach. Myrna stood outside, the two security guards looming behind her.

“Good morning,” he greeted her.

“Afternoon, actually. If you aren’t used to this place, it can be hard to tell the time in here,” she replied. He fell into step beside her as they headed down the corridor that led out of the living quarters. She wasn’t wearing the lab coat any longer, and he noticed that her snug uniform accented her curves nicely.

“So what did I do to deserve a personal escort? I figured Swanson would just send the guards to get me.”

“Not like I had anything better to do,” she replied with a small grin. “Do you remember your first name, or do I have to keep calling you Mr. Reznik? That’s awfully formal, don’t you think?”

My first name… Good question,
he thought. But a moment later, it came to him. “Michael,” he replied.

“That’s good to know, Michael,” she said with another smile.

They turned down the main corridor, and Reznik could hear the sound of children’s laughter ahead. From a door on the left, a red ball rolled out into the hallway. A small boy about the age of five ran after it. The boy froze, wide-eyed, as soon as he saw them approaching. Reznik stopped the ball with his foot, and nimbly flipped it up into the air with his toe and caught it. He handed it back to the boy.

“It’s okay, Joshua. You can take it,” Myrna told him gently. The boy stared at Reznik for a few more seconds, then snatched the ball and beat a hasty retreat back into the room. Several adults and children in the room were all staring at him.

As they proceeded down the hall, he looked at his guide quizzically. She met his eyes and shrugged. “We don’t get many strangers here. Well, none, actually.”

They climbed a flight of stairs and came out on a more spacious level. It had less of a bunker feel, with painted walls and floors furnished in a tasteful tile.

Reznik suddenly remembered what he needed to ask. “What happened to me? Why do I look different? Did someone do some kind of plastic surgery or something on me?”

There was a long pause before she said anything. “You really don’t remember anything about what happened to you before, do you?” When he shook his head, she sighed. “I promise you, if Swanson doesn’t explain everything to you, then I will. Please, wait just a little longer, and you’ll get the answers you need.”

Reznik saw genuine sympathy in her eyes. He just nodded and made no reply.

They passed a large room marked “DINING HALL.” It was currently empty of people, but a quick glance told Reznik that the room could hold a couple hundred people or so at maximum capacity.

They went by the expansive common area, as well. Reznik paused for a moment to look around. The room resembled a lounge area, with a number of sofas, tables, and chairs. Bookshelves lined the walls and there were a few people socializing and reading. Reznik had yet to see anyone not wearing the common uniform.

His attention was drawn to a huge banner covering one of the walls. It had the golden
Extensis Vitae
phoenix logo at the top, along with the scripture passage, “And He shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” The rest of the banner looked like a scene taken from an old Soviet propaganda poster. It featured a group of smiling workers toiling in a field against the background of a ruined city.

They continued on their way, following the signs pointing to “SECURITY DESK” and “ADMINISTRATION.” Reznik noticed more cameras throughout the facility positioned to watch all the main rooms and corridors.

“Where are all the residents?” Reznik asked.

“Most of them are going about their duties,” she replied. “The school-age children attend class at this time of day. Those who don’t have assigned duties or are infirm generally remain in their quarters or the common area or fitness center.”

“What does ‘
Extensis Vitae’
mean?”

Myrna didn’t answer at first. After a moment, she said, “I will let the administrator explain that to you.”

They walked in silence for a couple minutes. “Any tips on what to expect from my meeting with Swanson?”

She looked over at him. “His word is law and he holds all the power here. He also isn’t a man who likes to hear ‘no’ for an answer, so keep that in mind.”

“Oh, and try to stay out of trouble,” she added as they came up on a reinforced metal door marked in bold red letters “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” The doors slid open smoothly at their approach.

They entered a spacious room with a large security desk in the center. Two guards sat at the desk watching them. Myrna strode past the desk without a word and Reznik followed. The monitors at the desk displayed the feeds from what looked like dozens of security cameras. The guards seated there watched, stony faced, as he passed. The duo accompanying Reznik and Myrna greeted their comrades briefly, but continued to follow.

Myrna led him down another corridor, passing what looked like some offices on one side and a room with a holding cell on the other. Behind a large window, Reznik could see a darkened room that looked to be filled with computer mainframes; the glow of blinking LEDs extended off into the darkness. They turned a corner toward the administration section. The ever-present hum of machinery was much louder in this part of the facility.

Another sliding metal door opened, revealing a carpeted room. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk of a nicely furnished lobby. Reznik noticed the stark difference with the rest of the facility. There were several potted plants around the room and plush looking chairs lined the wall. A few paintings hung on the walls and the lighting was warm, not like the cool LEDs found throughout the rest of the facility. There was a door behind the receptionist’s desk and another off to the right. Myrna exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist.

“Mr. Reznik?” the woman called out. Reznik looked over and she smiled. “Administrator Swanson will see you now.”

Chapter 3

I
f the lobby was well appointed, then Swanson’s office could be described as luxurious. Full bookshelves lined the walls. A massive oak desk with a couple chairs placed before it dominated the center of the room.

A large picture window that Reznik suspected was another projection took up the far wall. Bright natural light poured into the room from the picturesque view of a lake surrounded by the well-tended grounds of what could have been a country club. The projection was realistic enough that had there been a door, it looked as if one would have been able to step right out into the scene.

Swanson was seated in a leather executive chair, shuffling through some papers on the desk. “ADMINISTRATOR MALCOLM T. SWANSON,” a plaque on the desk proclaimed.

As if he had just noticed their arrival, Swanson looked up and beamed. “Ah, there you are! I hope the accommodations are to your liking?” He stood and extended his hand.

“Yes sir, they are fine,” Reznik replied, shaking the administrator’s hand. Swanson’s grip was limp, and his skin clammy. Reznik ignored the urge to wipe his hand on his pants.

“Shall I wait outside, Mr. Swanson?” Myrna asked.

“No, my dear. I don’t think we will require your services anymore for the time being. Thank you,” he said in obvious dismissal.

Myrna caught Reznik’s eye as she turned and left. He wasn’t sure, but her glance seemed to be a cautionary one. A guard closed the door behind her and the two posted themselves at either side of the door.

“Please have a seat, my friend,” Swanson invited, gesturing to one of the chairs. He eased his bulk back into his chair. “I imagine you have quite a few questions. All will be answered in good time. I must confess, the deal that I am forced to offer you might not seem like much of a deal at all, but I’m hoping you are the selfless type that will accept.”

“I suppose that depends on the deal,” Reznik offered. “Can you please start by telling me where we are? What is this place?”

Swanson leaned back in his chair. “This facility is simply called Colony 12. It was established by the
Extensis Vitae
Corporation as a self-contained, self-sufficient facility impervious to the outside world. Whatever catastrophes and savagery and immorality go on in the outside world cannot affect us in here. This is a facility for those of us who are waiting for the opportunity to rebuild our society. We have some of the finest minds here—scientists, engineers, teachers—”

“But not doctors,” Reznik added.

“Very astute observation. You are correct. Therein lies part of our problem. Dr. Landers tragically passed away about a year ago from a stroke. And our other physician, Dr. Kane, whose daughter Myrna you’ve already met, has gone missing.”

“And what does this have to do with me, sir?”

“Well, we believe you might have the skill set we need to deal with our problem. Let us see here…” He rummaged through a sheaf of papers on his desk. “Master Sergeant Michael Reznik, United States Army. Weapons Sergeant, most recently assigned to the Joint Special Operations Command. Highly decorated, military honors include the Distinguished Service Cross, Bronze Star, four Purple Hearts. Specialist in counter-terrorism, hostage rescue, air assault, etc. A regular John Wayne type, eh? That’s you, right?”

Reznik listened to the laundry list and it began sounding familiar to him. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, as I mentioned before, someone with your skill set can be very useful to us in our present circumstances. You see, we are a peaceful society here, and violence has no place in Colony 12—or any of the Colonies, for that matter. Thus, when an extremely unique situation of potential hostility arises, like this one, we are unfortunately a bit ill-equipped to deal with such things.”