The Dark Rift: Redemption (6 page)

Looking down the hallway, he saw the obliterated security panels that had been flattened to the floor by the horde, wondering if Jodie could have survived somehow, if she had been caught up in the onslaught of so many. It occurred to him that she might not even be underground anymore, but he had to keep going, to find out for sure. She might be in trouble right this very moment. Feeling that he had no time to waste, he picked up his Hello Kitty bag and continued on.

* * *

Jodie turned down another gravel road and drove between the trees and into the woods. Her companions stirred as the SUV bounced through the forest. She found a spot she thought would be concealed from the road, parked and shut the engine off.

“Where have you taken us?” her father asked, yawning.

“There’s a town up ahead. We’re going to need gas. I thought I’d take a walk to see if I can find a station while it’s still dark.”

Isaiah pulled himself up between the two front seats and grabbed the map. He turned on a small flashlight and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Utah. We’re just south of Salt Lake City,” Jodie said, thinking of how beautiful the terrain they were traveling was. She wished she were on vacation, far removed from danger, relaxing on a sun-warmed slab of rock in the canyons. “There’s bound to be people around here, but I’m not sure we should trust anyone. I don’t want to split up anymore, but we can’t all go in together, either. I’ll walk into town and call you when I find something.”

Hunter roused in the rear of the SUV and whined softly. As Isaiah moved back to quiet the dog, Jodie glanced in the back seat, seeing Noah asleep.

“Looks like I’ve got dog walking duty,” Isaiah said, opening the door.

Jodie’s father grasped her arm gently. “I don’t know if I like the idea of you going anywhere alone, kiddo,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. It’ll be easier to stay hidden if I go by myself. Besides, I need you to keep an eye on things here,” Jodie said, glancing over at her father, noticing the look of concern on his face. She realized she liked him caring about her. It made her feel whole in a way she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She found herself leaning over and hugging him, an act that seemed so natural and so very important to her in the situation they were in. “Don’t worry. Just be ready to come and pick me up. I’m not sure I want to carry ten gallons of gas back here by myself.”

“Okay, okay,” her father said, pulling away and opening the passenger door. “I’ll grab the Jerry cans.”

Jodie jumped out of the front seat and closed the door quietly. She looked over, seeing Noah still asleep. She thought he must be exhausted, thinking about whether his mother was okay. Jodie was anxious, too. She shuddered at the thought Gypsum might realize there was no need to keep her or her friends alive. She met her father by the back of the SUV and turned on the two-way radios. “Someone will need to sit out by the road to get a signal.”

“I can do that,” Isaiah said, extending his hand to grab one of the radios. “I’ll walk down the road with you a few hundred feet. We can test the radios when I find a good hiding spot.”

“Well, my dear, we’ll be waiting,” Jodie’s dad said, smiling at her and taking Hunter's leash from Isaiah.

Less than a day had passed since they'd been taken by Gypsum, leaving Noah and Hunter behind in the woods. Christy was buoyed by one thing. Evan Watts was out there, too, and the Gypsum guards were too stupid to know that. She felt Evan would protect Noah at any cost. After all, he'd risked his own life to bring Gypsum's plan to ruin. He'd put himself in life threatening situations more than once to try to save them. She kept mulling this over in her mind, convincing herself that Noah was safer with Evan than if he'd stayed with her. In the meantime, she'd have enough challenges to occupy her time. The first would involve escaping from the room she was locked in.

After the guards had taken them to medical to treat Mei, they'd been split up. A guard had grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Nick. Christy had fought to free herself and watched Nick struggle with the guard at the other end of the hallway. She’d felt like she was gaining ground for a moment, but the cold barrel of a gun pushing against her temple had told her otherwise. 

"I don't care whether any of you live through this. You're only alive because of David Martin," the man holding her had said. "But accidents happen, you know. People die. Try that again and you'll join them."

She recalled the look on Nick's face being a mixture of frustration, anger and fear as he’d stopped struggling with his captor. "Just do what he says, Christy," Nick had said.

Realizing no options existed, Christy had complied and allowed herself to be pushed into a windowless room. Her anger had reignited, hearing the door slam behind her. As she waited for Gypsum's next step, she wondered what David Martin had in mind for them. Surely, if he were going to kill them, he could've done that by now. He was keeping them alive, but for what reason? The only thing she could do was wait to find out the answer.

* * *

The sound of footsteps increased in intensity as Chuck moved down the hallway. With each step, his metal feet struck the tile floor, the sound echoing against the walls and making his jaw vibrate ever so slightly. He felt around in his mouth for the source of the vibration and found something loose. He tugged on it, pulling out a molar. The tooth gleamed in his hand and he felt sad at the loss of just one more little piece of himself. Chuck opened his Hello Kitty bag and dropped the tooth in, thinking he might need it someday. He hoped he would, at least. As he walked on, he found himself alone in a hallway lined with doors, save for a deceased security officer lying in a crumpled mass on the floor.

The man still looked human. Still had his uniform. Still had a face and hands and everything that made a person, though he was clearly dead. Chuck reached down and unpinned the badge from the man's uniform. It gleamed even in the dim light as he fastened it to his metal collarbone. He gently unlatched the guard's gun belt, slid it off, and strapped it around his own waist. The belt barely made it all the way around his massive frame and he tugged at it, stretching it to fit. Chuck was happy to see that the man had very large feet and appropriated his shoes next. He was starting to feel a little more like himself.

"Thank you. I'll take good care of these for you," he said to the dead man.

Chuck walked down the hallway, peering through the windows he passed by, finding no one. Each room he looked into was equipped with what appeared to be an operating table and a large white cabinet that looked like his upright freezer in the garage at home. Curiosity finally getting the best of him, Chuck opened the door to one of the rooms and approached the cabinet. He tugged on the handle and the door swung open, a frosty cloud obscuring the contents. He felt his metal skeleton contract slightly as the super cooled air washed over him. As the cloud of frozen mist cleared, he jumped back, slamming into the operating table, sending it flying. He stifled the noise that wanted to escape from his mouth. A face stared back at him. A frozen face. A naked girl stood upright in the freezer, supported by metal brackets holding her in place.

At first glance, he thought she looked like a normal little girl, maybe about ten years old. Then, he saw her hands. Clad with claws and scaly skin, they reminded him of the hands of the Gypsum thing he'd fought earlier. He stuck his head in closer and looked around her back. Her scaly tail hung limply behind her. Chuck felt the metal of his naked skeleton shudder and grow colder. He backed away from the girl and slammed the door shut, not really knowing what to do next.

Chuck looked around the room, contemplating whether or not to do a bit more searching. Approaching a smaller cabinet, he pulled the door open tentatively, not wanting to repeat the surprise he'd gotten earlier, but breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering that the entire cabinet was filled with files. Pulling one out and opening it, he saw a photo of a man who looked about forty years old clipped to the inside of the folder. "Must be his medical records," Chuck muttered.

The first page of the file held the usual information - name, address, phone, intake date. The discharge date was blank. "Your name is Dave. Looks like you got in, but never got out." Chuck flipped the page, accidentally tearing it with his metal fingers. "Damn it," he grunted.

The next page contained one entry field, titled Treatment. A series of numbers and letters were written on a line, none of which Chuck could make sense of. He flipped the page and stared at the photos, almost dropping the file. The images were shocking. Dave at intake. Dave during treatment, hooked up to tubes, obviously in great distress. Chuck flipped the page. Dave in various stages of transformation, his skin tearing, bones protruding from pulverized flesh, his face contorted in pain. Chuck could almost hear the screams that must have come from Dave's mouth.

Chuck quickly paged through to the end of the photos. He felt the purest anger he'd ever felt, seeing the last of the images of Dave, his skeleton now revealed, his body stripped of flesh, his bones metallic, gleaming in the overhead lighting. Chuck looked at his own skeleton. "This is what happened to me," he said. At the very end of the file, one note was written. Deceased, 90 days.

Chuck dropped the file folder and reached into the cabinet for another. He guessed there were about five thousand folders in front of him. Frantically pawing through them, page by page, he felt assaulted by the photos of men, women, and children, each transformed into a horrific creature, all now deceased. A few lived for ninety days, some fewer than fifty, most under five. Many of the patients never made it through the transformation. He tore through the documents at a frantic pace, looking for evidence that anyone had lived more than a few months. He needed some indication that he wouldn't suffer the same fate as they did, but he found none. Chuck glanced through the window, seeing another cabinet in the next room. He walked across the hallway silently, making sure he didn't have company, and entered the room. "There has to be someone alive yet," he said, aware that he wanted to cry, but couldn't.

Chuck pulled a pile of files out of the cabinet and set them on the floor, the clanging of his skeleton against the tile echoing through the room as he sat down. He waited silently for a moment, wondering if any of the things he'd met in the hallway earlier had heard the noise. After a few minutes, when he was sure no one had heard him, he grabbed his Hello Kitty bag, pulled out a candy bar, and opened the file on the top of the pile. "Someone must have made it. I just have to look," he muttered to himself, feeling his eyes begin to burn.

Jodie crept along the tree line next to a house, looking for signs of life. The town was enveloped in an inky blackness and her eyes strained as she looked for movement. The night was dark, melding everything into soft shapes and undefined shadows. So, this is what near total darkness looks like, she thought, staring up at the dim, star-filled sky. For the first time in her life, she could see the Milky Way clearly. How could something so beautiful be home to such enormous evil?

She wished for a full moon, yet was thankful there was none. If no one were watching with night vision gear, she might be able to sneak in and out unnoticed.

Straining to see movement in or near the house, Jodie moved from a crouched position and laid down, setting the Jerry cans to the side. She watched from the trees for about fifteen minutes, not moving. A twig crunched behind her and she held her breath. A footstep, then another. Jodie blinked away the beads of sweat dripping into her eyes and slowly pulled out her gun. The noise came closer, sounding quicker. She flipped the revolver's safety off and rolled on her side to face whatever was headed her way.

Slowly, she brought the gun up and pointed in the direction of the noise, her hands shaking. The thing snorted loudly just as she held the gun in front of her and she jumped, almost pulling the trigger. Finally understanding what she was seeing, Jodie finally exhaled. "A deer," she whispered. "It was only a deer."

Jodie could finally make out the silhouette of the doe as it made its way through the edge of the forest and trotted across the open lawn in front of her. "Time for me to move, too," she whispered to herself. If anyone was out there and had heard the deer, maybe the sound of her footsteps wouldn't betray her position. Jodie picked up the Jerry cans and crept along the tree line, careful to stay hidden for as long as she could. She stopped after ten steps and listened, hearing the deer trot away at a quicker pace.

Jodie sprinted across the lawn toward what looked like a detached garage. She reached the garage and crouched to the ground, then waited until the sound of her beating heart calmed enough to hear the silence again.

Darkness deepened next to the building as Jodie made her way around the side of the garage, feeling along the wall, coming to a door. She tried the handle. Locked. She thought about kicking the door in, but knew that the noise was bound to attract attention if anyone were near, so she moved around to the front of the building. Not wanting to wander around in the dark for too long, she thought she'd take a chance and use her flashlight briefly. Cupping her hand around the light, she held it up to the garage door window and flicked it on, seeing a Jeep inside. “I hope you've got some gas in you," she said.

Jodie tugged on the overhead door handle and pulled it up about a foot. She set the cans on the ground, lay down and inched her body inside. After pulling the cans in behind her, she closed the door and lay still on the floor, listening for anyone following. The garage was small, leaving her little room to maneuver near the front bumper of the Jeep, so, after she felt comfortable that she was alone, Jodie pulled herself along the floor until she had space to stand up.

Turning the flashlight on for a brief moment once more, she could see the gas tank cover at the back of the vehicle. Something else caught her eye, too. Garden hose.

Jodie took down the hose and grabbed a garden shears lying on a shelf and cut off a four-foot section. She reached inside the open window of the Jeep, looking for a release lever for the gas cover, realizing she would have to open the door briefly to reach the latch near the floor.

Saying a silent prayer that no one would see the dome light shining in the car, Jodie quickly opened the door and reached up to switch the light off. While it was still on, she noticed something else. Keys were hanging from the ignition. After briefly considering starting up the vehicle and making a break for it, she dismissed the idea and felt around for the fuel cap release lever. She found it and slid out of the Jeep, ready to siphon. She paused when she heard noises coming from what seemed some distance away. The roaring of motors, grinding of gears, crunching of stone. Vehicles. Many large vehicles, from the sound of it.

Jodie moved to the side door of the garage and peeked out the window at the roadway, seeing headlights illuminating the forest. They were headed into town from the direction she had come. The vehicles would have passed her father, Isaiah, Noah and Hunter, hidden in the woods. Jodie hoped she'd pulled far enough off the road to keep them and their SUV hidden. She watched as the caravan rumbled past, a fuel truck bringing up the tail end. "Sure could use that right now," she said to herself.

As she watched the last of the vehicles pass, she pulled the two-way radio out of her coat pocket. She was sure that her father must be okay. After all, he would've called her if they were in trouble. But, why didn't he warn her of the caravan? Surely, he would have called her to tell her they were coming. Suddenly, something felt terribly wrong. Jodie pressed the call button and spoke quietly. "Isaiah? Isaiah, come in . . . Dad? Dad, are you there?" No answer. Jodie dropped the garden hose and closed the door to the Jeep. She wanted to, but didn't dare take the vehicle now that she knew Gypsum was in the area. She placed the empty gas cans in the back of the garage and slid out the side door, unlocking it as she left.

Jodie sprinted across the lawn, going back the way she'd come, not waiting to see if anyone followed. She ran and stumbled through the dark forest, her face whipped by branches, the brush tearing at her clothing. When she finally reached the clearing where she’d left her father and the others, she was stunned. Other than tire tracks to tell her she was in the right area, no evidence of them remained.

She pressed the radio button again. "Dad? Dad, where are you?” The sound of her voice was dampened by the dense growth in the forest. She pressed the button once more, hearing a static-filled clicking noise coming from the woods. As she followed the noise, she kept pressing the button on and off. Finally, she saw it lying in the leaves at the base of a tree. The other radio, her lifeline to her father, lying in the dirt. "Oh, no," Jodie said as she grabbed the radio and started running.

* * *

Chuck lay on the tile floor, surrounded by stacks of file folders he’d cast aside as he frantically searched for some sign that his condition wasn't terminal. He'd found none. The realization that he might have a defined lifespan of only a few days left him utterly spent. And depressed.

What he'd pieced together from reading the files left him shaken and confused about what to do next. While he held a fierce desire to see Jodie again, he knew it was his responsibility to let the rest of the world know what Gypsum had done. Experiments with human and alien DNA. Failed experiments.

The words repeated over and over in his mind. Alien DNA ... experiments ... hybrids. So that's what all of this was for. The underground installation, the secrecy, the murders. Chuck stared at his metal legs. "Is that what I am now? An alien mutant experiment?"

Chuck had read about people who had apparently been kidnapped and taken into space for tissue and bone collection, left with life-threatening conditions and no hope in sight of a cure for their unknown afflictions. Teeth drilled, bones extracted, copious amounts of blood taken from the same person over weeks at a time, failed impregnations, failed amputations. The list went on and on, each file revealing a kind of horror worse than the one before. Entire families had been killed, maimed, and changed forever, in the name of what? He was most disturbed by the little ones. The fetuses, suspended in frozen stasis. Products of alien DNA infusion. Unnatural creatures.

The file said that Gypsum housed them in the Nevada facility, waiting for reanimation. The thought of what Gypsum was doing and had done to thousands of people, people like him, and maybe even Jodie by now, made him deeply heartsick. Chuck looked at his reflection in the shiny steel cabinet, wondering what he'd been exposed to. What kind of organism could have transformed his body into this, a skinless metal giant, still in the shape of a man? And, why was he still himself? Why hadn't he retreated into madness like all the others he'd seen?

He was repulsed by what he'd become, even though it was strong. Stronger than a human could ever hope to be and faster than he could comprehend. But he wanted to be Chuck again. The Chuck who helped cats out of trees. The Chuck who sat with Debi at the diner and talked about days gone by. The Chuck who gave his life to helping others. If it was the last thing he did, he would find a cure for these people and, just maybe, one for himself, too.

He picked up another file. As he read, Chuck thought of Leah. Kind Leah, who lost her best friend to this madness, who lived her life searching for answers and found none. He remembered the strange afflictions she had. Bone loss in her legs, like so many others he read about. Evidence of prolonged periods of weightlessness was what the files said. Chuck realized Leah had been taken into space and experimented on. And that woman Jodie hit with her car. She had holes drilled in her teeth and was mutilated in a way he'd never seen before.

He remembered Bob, his friend, a man of honor, who'd saved him. His body lay unmoving on a cold floor, alone, not yet mourned by his family. In their names, and in the names of all of the others like them, Chuck made a vow to expose the truth. He wanted Jodie to help him, but he was starting to realize the likelihood of ever seeing her again was very low, if not non-existent, given that he didn't really even know where he was. Weighing his options, he thought he could retrace his steps and find the tunnel where he'd come in, but that might take too long. Maybe more time than he had left. And, something told him Jodie was in danger. He could feel it as if she were standing right in front of him. His metal frame hummed with a kind of fear for her. He knew he needed to get out of the tunnel now right now and find her.

Chuck tossed the files aside, sat up, and was about to stand when he heard footsteps coming in his direction. Not the footsteps of the things he'd seen earlier, but those of men. It sounded like a group of maybe a dozen or so. He lay back down, so still that he could be mistaken for dead. Sliding his arm over his face to shield his lidless eyes from view, he peeked out through the space between the bones of his forearm.

The door swung open and a combat uniform clad man entered, his weapon raised as he swung it in a wide arc, pointing into the room. Chuck saw that the man was wearing a gas mask. The man made a motion to someone in the hallway and the room was suddenly filled as Gypsum guards entered.

"Looks like this one here's been playing in the file cabinet," a guard said as he kicked Chuck in the leg.

Chuck remained still. He could hear muffled laughter coming through the mask.

"Thinks he's part of the Wild West, too. Lookie here," the guard said, pointing to Chuck's gun holster. The guard bent over and fingered the badge pinned to Chuck's collarbone.

Several other guards joined in the laughter. One pointed his gun at Chuck. "Showdown at the O.K. corral, buddy," he said, his finger moving dangerously close to the trigger.

Chuck tensed, not knowing if a bullet could penetrate his metal frame.

"Hey, Billy. Don't fire that weapon in here. You'll draw the rest of those things right to us," another guard said.

Billy lowered his weapon, bent down and unpinned Chuck's badge. He polished it on his pant leg and pinned it to his combat uniform. "There's a new sheriff in town," he said, pounding his chest. He bent down again, his hand reaching for Chuck's gun.

"Cut that shit out, Billy, and help us with this," another guard said. "Leave the gun. We're here for only one reason. To get the docs their records. We need to pack up all the files in every treatment room. That means two men in each room. Pair up and get everything ready to go. We've got ten minutes."

The guards filed out of the room and headed for their assignment. Billy grunted something unintelligible and Chuck remained still on the floor, rage filling every bit of his consciousness. These people were the real monsters. They'd forgotten he was once a human being, just like them. They didn't know he was a police officer once and that his life was given to protecting humans. Before he was done, before his body gave out like all the others' in the files he'd read, he would teach these Gypsum guards a lesson on how someone with a badge and gun should act.

Having finally stacked up all the files and placed them in boxes, the Gypsum guards loaded everything on a gurney and left the room. Chuck could hear them meeting in the hallway.

"Let's get out of here and blow this pop stand," a gruff voice called out, likely from the guard in charge. "We don't want any of those things following us. Billy and I will set up the device here. The rest of you get to the train and unload these carts."

Chuck could hear them rolling the gurneys down the hallway. He slid sideways as quietly as he could to see what they were doing. The two men just outside the door were stringing wire across the hall, leading to a huge bag of what he assumed were explosives.

"The red wire goes to the receiver," the gruff-sounding man said. "We'll blow it with a radio signal when we're a couple miles out."

The man Chuck knew as Billy watched as the other guard connected wires to a lead coming out of the large bag.

"Should we leave it in the hallway? I mean, what if one of those things comes along and stumbles into it?” Billy said.