Sleepwalker (47 page)

Pam nodded an agreement, sliding her keycard into a slot below the numerical display reading off the floors. “Brutus is more muscle than courage. Although fully absorbed with the experiment, he refused to engage himself in any physical practice whatsoever. Basically, he was deathly afraid to go into the vortex.”

“So he has a chink in his armor,” Leonard said.

“A vulnerability, yes. He can be had. But we’ll have to play it smart. Let’s hope he doesn’t arm himself before we get there, that he has the common sense to let me take over.”

At that moment, Richard leaned over and kissed Pam on the cheek. It was quick, yet gentle and loving, filled with gratitude, a brief expression that thoroughly delivered his message. “I just want to let you know, Pam, that I think I know what’s going to happen when we get upstairs, so now is probably the only time I’m going to have to thank you for all you’ve done for me, and that I love you for it. I will always love you for it. Thank you.”

She breathed in, clearly nervous, perhaps scared. His sentiment had hit home, but she did her best to sidestep it. “You do understand then that once you go there you’ll never see me again.”

Listening to his gut instinct, he shook his head. “I have a feeling I will see you once this is through. Admit it, Pam, you have an uncanny way of showing up in the most unlikely places. Like you did in
Bledson
State Park, and at the sheriff’s office. And don’t think I didn’t realize that you were following me through the woods after I fled Delaney’s office.”

Pam grinned, staring silently at Richard. Her eyes, for a moment, welled with tears, and she turned away.

During this respite, Leonard had kept his eyes pinned the digital display of the floors as they rose to number 15. “We’ve reached top,” he announced.

Pam caught her composure. Leonard placed a hand on his weapon. Richard took a deep breath. They all stood like soldiers, facing forward as the doors opened. And then they entered Richard
Sparke’s
laboratory.

Despite the absence of immediate threat, Leonard decided it might be prudent to have his gun ready, and for that Richard was thankful; the experienced cop had been no less aggressive in hunting him down. Pam too had apparently lifted a gun from her knapsack, an earlier move Richard hadn’t noticed until now. Richard, in the back, was the only one unarmed.

They were in a windowed hallway that looked out into the large laboratory. The room, perhaps the size of a school gymnasium, appeared to be empty of occupants. In the center sat a huge cylindrically-shaped object that ran perhaps forty feet high to the apex of the pointed ceiling. The bulk of it was built of some kind of translucent material in which Richard could see incredible lights that looked like planets and stars, a million unique illuminations flashing and dancing within. Slowly, they paced along the hallway to another security door, where Pam ran her card through the adjacent slot. It beeped and allowed them access.

Chills ran through Richard’s body upon entering the room. The air was heavy here, and had a familiar odor to it, as if something was burning: hot electrical wiring. This was the same distinctive odor that had filled Richard’s bedroom so many times in the past, in his dreams, when the blue light came. Amidst it, a fruity aroma hung faintly in the air, like that of citrus. Although the pyramid-shaped ceiling was constructed entirely of windows, they were tinted black on the inside, keeping most, if not all, natural light out. A series of dull yellow lamps like those in the basement ran like troops at eight equal lengths to the top of the roof. Immediately below the apex was a
squarish
object with a crystalline orb nestled at its center that rotated about like a wandering eye. The yellow lights appeared to be angled in its direction, the soft beams reflecting from it in a multitude of hazy angles.

Immersed in this phosphorescent glow, the room adopted a ghostly sheen that made it somewhat difficult to see. Ahead, along the right wall, were five large steel doors, each with a security slot to the right side. Richard and Leonard both noticed footprints leading in and out of the rooms. When they looked down they saw that their feet had left similar tracks behind in a thin residue of blue dust on the floor.

It was only at this moment did they see the additional sets of footprints trailing around the huge device centering the room, coming at them from the left.

And then they saw the armed men, only feet away.

Dressed in black suits and ties, they resembled Mafia hit-men. There was even the faint smell of cologne as they approached, and Richard realized now where that fruity aroma of citrus had come from.

“This is Brutus’s doing,” Pam whispered.

One of the men yelled “
shut-up
”, and took the barrel of the gun to Pam’s chin while the other confiscated her weapon. She crumpled under the blow, Leonard grabbing her beneath the arms before she hit the ground. Interestingly, Richard noticed that they didn’t approach Leonard, who, with his hands on Pam, had apparently used his expertise to conceal his pistol.

“Where the hell is Brutus? Get him out here.” Pam’s words were garbled as she steadied herself and wiped blood from her chin.

“I’m right here, Heather.”

The voice that came from behind them was booming, deep, and angry. When the three turned they met an immense figure no less imposing than the voice implied. Brutus was completely bald with a chiseled face that carried a thick potato-like nose and smallish mouth. Dressed like his hired cronies except in gray, he could have easily passed for a cement truck given the muscles upon muscles that stretched the cotton fabric to its screaming limit. He too held a gun, this a Smith & Wesson Combat Magnum, a rather accurate and deadly weapon.

“What’s with the guns, Brutus? And the goons?”

“I could ask you the same.” He smiled, eyes glistening, shifting focus from Richard to Pam to Leonard and back in a repetitively disconcerting fashion. “Much has gone on since you decided to pull your disappearing act, Heather. The clone told me the
truth
. He told me you’d be back, with another clone. That I needed to protect the gate until he returned. He told me you were going to try and take over, that you might bring help. That you were going to kill the boss. And you know I can’t let that happen.”

“Brutus, your clone, as you refer to him, the one who’s convinced you to follow him, is dead. Wait all you want, but I promise you he won’t be back.”

Brutus’s eyes went wide and wild. He pursed his lips with cold viciousness. “No! You lie!” He pointed the Smith & Wesson at her. Somewhere in that angry expression Richard saw an indecisive flutter that told him Brutus had more than likely expected such a revelation, but denied himself the reality of such a prospect.

Slowly she stepped forward, against the whispered appeals of Richard and Leonard. Even through the swelling bruise on her lip, she displayed unwavering confidence, her poise no different than all the other instances she came to Richard’s rescue. Despite the rotten odds, Richard had the utmost confidence in her, now more than ever. Somehow, someway, she would get them out of this mess. “Brutus, listen to me carefully. The man who wore black--the one you revere--is dead. Whatever he promised you,
 
rest assured it was a ruse. He lied to me, he lied to you, and he lied to the real Richard. Forget about the promises he made. He was planning all along to kill the boss, and then eventually me and you and whoever else got in his way. That’s why I fled, because I knew there would be no escaping him if I stayed. I stayed away until I knew he couldn’t hurt us anymore. Until I knew for sure he was dead. And now I’m back to help us all.”

“You lie.”

“No, Brutus, I don’t lie.” She swung a hand back towards Richard. “Thanks to this man right here, we have a chance to return to normalcy, and maybe save the real Richard
Sparke
. Now...tell me, where is my husband now?”

“In his chamber, where he always is.”

She peered over to one of the steel doors, but stayed unmoving; there were still guns pointed at her from two directions. “Have you been taking care of him?”

“It’s no business of yours, bitch!” He stepped forward and jutted the gun against her throat. Brutus’s unpredictability was frightening Richard.

“Brutus, please, I’ve never lied to you in the past. Don’t do this.”

For a moment Richard was distracted by the sweat pouring from every pore in his body. He trembled, feeling as if he were going to faint. Perhaps sensing his discomfort, the goon behind Richard gave him a sharp dig in the back that sent pain sprouting down his legs, making it extremely difficult to stand. His knees wobbled, his mind spun, his sights blurred. It was at this time that Richard realized his fate would be answered in the next minute: either he’d be shot, or he’d faint and then be shot. There seemed to be no lesser of two evils here. Richard had gotten all his answers, everything he’d ever waited for. Now he would die.

Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?

Conscience?

Brutus hesitated. He smiled, eyes icy and vulgar. His mind seemed to be wandering, perhaps in anticipation of some newly derived plans for them. The total look he exhibited was a familiar one to Richard. Lost. Insane. Apparently Brutus had been wholly influenced by the man in black after all. No, there’d be no convincing this man.
 
“I bring the boss food. Sometimes he eats it, sometimes not.”

“What about the old woman, and the girl?”

Mother! Debra!

“They’re safe.”

Richard blew out an air of relief. His strength was slightly rejuvenated.

The breather was short lived.

Brutus stepped back, nodded to the men behind Richard and Leonard, who pushed them forward with the butts of their guns.

“Take them into room three and execute them.”

Brutus stepped aside, grinning crazily, eyes lingering on Pam. Then, oddly, he focused on Richard, and for the briefest moment the knife-like shine in his pupils gave way to warm brown windows, portals that revealed an ever-so-slight hint of compassion and understanding, of honor and admiration for the ‘boss’. But now, his feelings were intuitively projected towards this other man, this other Richard
Sparke
who stood before him, the one Pam revered--a man who was created three years ago by his very own self in another timeline and who’d unwittingly become a key figure in the scientific experiment of the millennium.

Richard gazed back at Brutus. They locked eyes. Brothers in arms? Mortal enemies? Richard couldn’t tell.

Time seemed to stand still.

And perhaps it did, because something incredible happened at that precise moment--something truly unforeseen that not only justified everything that had become of the experiment, but gave Richard hope beyond the fatal alternatives he allowed himself just seconds earlier.

Like so many times in the past, whether in his dreams, or like those tiny flashes that occurred amidst the seconds
 
his eyes were closed in response to weariness, the blue light came. But not from the intimidating machine at the center of the room. Instead it grew at a random point between Brutus and his guards, just feet from Richard, Pam, and Leonard. The shock of the moment caused the guards to fall back, guns raised at the light which spread across the room like a surging wave of water. They couldn’t seem to get a foothold on the dust-covered floor, and they tumbled back over one another like football players in an end-zone plunge. The blue light swelled up like dust from an explosion and engulfed the two gun-
toters
. Their yells could be heard for a split second. And then, in that instant, they were gone.

Richard, Pam, and Leonard had scurried to the far end of the room. Leonard had retrieved the gun from the secret location on his person that Richard still couldn’t see. They pressed themselves against the wall between two of the steel doors, then hunkered down, the huge light separating them from Brutus, who disappeared on its opposite side. Richard hoped and prayed that the big goon had gotten sucked into it.

Amidst the tumult, he still found the strength and courage to gaze at Pam. The flashing storm ignited her eyes. Her perfect face held its composure even in this culminating moment. She looked at him, then frowned.

“What’s the matter?” Richard had to yell above the high whistling noise that filled the room. Leonard peered over at her, in search of an answer to what might be happening.

She hesitated, frowned, and a second before she spoke, Richard realized her concern.

She spoke anyway.

“I have no idea who’s coming through.”

So they stared into the light, taking no regard for the burning flashes impinging their vision. They simply watched and waited, taking no heed of Brutus, who either got sucked in along with his guards or waited on the other side in like anticipation, eager yet scared of who might appear.

“There’s only two units!” Pam yelled through the din, head shaking, eyes still glued to the storm. “I have one here, and it isn’t working anymore. The other was the man in black’s, who’s now dead.”

Richard thought about his twin-nemesis’s body, lying banged and bloodied amidst the foliage of
Bledson
State Park. A half hour before that the two of them fought, grappled with one another, two common opponents desperately trying to latch on to the nearest weapon--a knife, a screwdriver, a gun--in attempt to finish off the other.