Thirty Four Minutes DEAD (32 page)

“See him back into the fold, Marcia. He hasn’t got many cards left, you know. He’s too fucking moral for his own good, but I still kinda like the guy”.

“I’ll try David, but I’m starting to wonder if Mr Vain has gone as far as he can. Some might say that he’s treading water right now but others may counter, saying that he’s scared of our future, wanting to stop the clock and not advance further”.

The new face exposure had been an example of gross discrimination as far as Vain was concerned. Denison had initially told the MC Project ranks that the Rochaux surgeons would facially alter all staff. He had then modified his original decision, and what had transpired in actuality strongly suggested that a retribution-determined ‘branding’ had taken place. Vain knew that he had displayed too many ‘loose cannon’ behavioural traits to escape his own branding, but he felt it was unjust that Wheeler’s face remained unaltered. His new divisional boss bore the deepest scars of Denison’s retribution.

Fray’s mindsight unit undertook random MC vault explorations intensively for the next two weeks. Vain and Fearston worked in tandem, being assisted by two project newcomers. Leanne Jackson, a neuro-surgeon prodigy from Chicago, handled digital conversion. At twenty-three she was one of the youngest MC Project specialists. The laser extraction work was performed by one of the Chinese recruits taken on after the Washington peace conference. his preferred name was ‘Silo’ and he was a staunch Vainite as far as allegiance was concerned. Silo had been one of the ‘right-hand’ supporters who had fought with Vain after the Tavini altercation. The team of four had great communal respect for each other and this counted for a lot, as eighteen-hour working days became the norm. Vain’s team undertook between seven and ten mindsight-explorations each day, upon living subjects brought to them by the Security division. Wheeler, Voight or Dwight Richards would deliver the test-subjects, but no names or circumstances were ever given concerning whom exactly was having their mind read! On occasions Vain’s crew had to read to a subject and record their subsequent mindsight, but usually the team were told to break directly into the vault-extension without any prompted stimuli.

Fear was a common denominator in the eyes of the subjects, and Vain felt that ‘victims’ was a better collective name for them. It had been rumoured for some time that Denison may ‘hit the streets’ to find new test subjects, and Vain deduced that his team were probably bearing front-line testimony to this recruitment method. None of the four could be certain that Denison was using press-gang tactics though, because the team were always denied visual access to the generated material! After each exploration, the subject would be taken away, along with the recorded laser proofs and another subject was led in, passing the previous test-individual on their way. The MC-Project was entering ‘mass production’!

Fray only surveyed his division’s work on rare occasions. He was privy to handling the laser recordings, and his Rochaux wounds seemed to worsen on each successive day. The one important announcement that he did make to Vain’s team was uttered on operational day eleven. His message was short, being encoded with safety as his main prerogative.

“Press on, my team. Your work is progressing better than all expectations by all accounts, and a rest period is penned in after day seventeen. I have been permitted to tell you that your work will soon be activated throughout internal project divisions. Random mindsight readings will be performed upon individuals as they go about their MC business, with activation instances being selected by Leif. In short, an individual will wear the sonic vault-splicer for a period of some hours, possibly a day. Mr Denison will scan-activate on occasions during this period of monitoring. Press on, my team”.

The last utterance was said almost as a sigh and Vain felt sorrow for his new superior. He didn’t have time to share comments with his colleagues though, as the excessive workload was turning each team member into a temporary work-eat-sleep creature. Day fifteen involved a nineteen-hour working day, and only five sleep hours were penned in before the next shift. Vain slumped asleep in the recess room that adjoined the exploration venue. A rough shake woke him, with a new urgency sounding in Fray’s voice.

“Get up, Vain. You’ve got an exploration to undertake. The whole team, right now! This one’s my order. Denison’s conveyor belt will start in less than three hours, so we’ve gotta move it!”

Vain stood up and turned on Fray, angry at being forced awake after another day of project-overload.

“Sorry Vance. This sounds ‘Hidden A’ stuff. I’ve probably used up my chances with Leif you know, try another exploration crew”.

The gun cut into Vain’s temple.

“This isn’t a fucking option, Vain! Here’s the low-down. Some of my security guys have stayed loyal and they’ve brought us a present next door! We’ve got a subject strapped in the mindsight chair. Strapped because he’s reputed to be possessed! Catholicism had him booked for an exorcism yesterday but my guys intercepted him. Can you see the possibilities here?”

“No”.

“Franco Molvetti had been housebound for thirty days. He recently rampaged through the streets asking for deliverance from Satan! Up until a month ago he was a veritable pillar of the community, working for the homeless and under-privileged in Washington. That was before the violence, the self-mutilation and the seizure type contortions. The phlegm was a trickle at first, but now it’s a torrent! His language became as foetid as his breath and his skin has welts breaking the surface. Molvetti either has some fucking serious illness or the devil that he claims to see is for real, Greg! Religion undertakes thousands of exorcisms each year, one MC Project interception is hardly greedy Greg, it’s ‘our’ divine fucking right!”

Fray was charging through his words at an excitable pace, and Vain was still struggling to understand exactly how Molvetti’s condition held special interest for the ranks of the MC Project. Greg voiced his confusion and after a sigh of exasperation, Fray slowed down, measuring his words with more precision.

“Smell the coffee, Vain! The guy says that he sees the devil. If we explore both of his MC vaults, we’ll have our answer, one of man’s eternal questions answered! If the vault-extension delivers a mindsight devil, we’ll know that Molvetti is ‘imagining’ his own Lucifer, but if we find satanic imagery in his main vault we’ll know that he has physically witnessed the devil! If the result is the latter then heaven help us, but we’ll never know until we try!”

Vain knew that membrane fall-through could still distort visual truth, after Fearston’s revelations, but his understudy had only encountered one example of this image-source aberration. Adrenaline started to pulse through his body as his mind took on board the enormity of the exploration that awaited him. He said nothing to Fray about membrane fall-through, keeping Fearston’s research secret. He then followed Fray into the exploration arena, with his own mind still undecided - should they track and unlock Satan, or was this exploration tempting fate?

Franco Molvetti had been heavily sedated and as Silo set up his laser extraction equipment the subject remained still, with laboured breathing. Residue of a phlegm-based substance dribbled from Molvetti’s mouth and fresh knuckle bite marks dripped blood on to the exploration chair. Greg placed the sonic vault-splicer around the head of the subject. Still no awakening resulted. Fray gesticulated to Fearston to activate the viewing screen. He made a vehement utterance to accompany the said activation.

“Unlike you Denison, unlike you Wheeler, I show my team their explorations. Your private screening prerogative can get fucked!”

The room lights were dimmed as Vain probed amongst Molvetti’s main MC vault. The screen rendered a uniform silver colour hue, and then Vance Fray’s luck ran out. The arena door was smashed open and Jess Wheeler’s voice boomed an entrance.

“On the deck, fuckers. Take those still standing, guys”.

Vain’s unit instinctively hit the floor, but Fray’s men briefly countered with some useless resistance. Dwight Richards took out one of Fray’s ‘loyalists’ with a volley of shots, whilst Voight accounted for the other with a single shot to the head. Wheeler shot Fray’s gun from his hands and the security head then felled the man with a deft roundhouse kick. As blood poured from Fray’s fingerless right hand, Wheeler spoke and shock waves resounded throughout the exploration arena.

“Voight, Richards, check them for weapons. It looks like a Fray wild card though. None of the others should have any guns down here, so if you find any, then shoot the fuckers. Not Fray though, I’ve got something special in mind!”

As Wheeler’s security ranks strip-searched Vain’s team, Greg managed to ask one question to Wheeler.

“What about Molvetti. What’s going to happen to him?”

“Same as we do with all the fodder, Vain”.

Wheeler walked behind Molvetti’s chair and wrenched the subject’s head back toward him. He forced a pistol into the mouth of the bleary-eyed subject, delivering one of his bespoke execution lines. Molvetti had recovered consciousness - just in time to register his own death!

“Chew on this, paleface. Here’s your fucking exorcism!”

The trigger was pulled, and pieces of Molvetti’s brain slid down the far wall. His teeth and jawbone were blasted in all directions. The ‘possessed’ head had only been preserved to a twenty percent ratio! Wheeler then turned on the whimpering Fray, bringing his boots down on the man’s rib cage. A vicious kick to the testicles rendered the man unconscious. Wheeler again spoke out to everyone, standing amidst the bloodfest that lay on all sides.

“Richards, take four guys and escort these four back to their sleeping zones. Leave them naked though, a lesson, or some kinda bull like that. Voight, you’re coming with me. We’re taking a crew of eight. We’re gonna use the Kingstonhill wharf. I want cameras and some fucking petroleum. Oh, and bring some cord, we’ll use some metal shit for a tight hold”.

The van raced away from the Designation and Fray awoke, vomiting due to the fumes of the petrol that soaked his whole body. He had been stripped naked and severely beaten around his chest and waist regions. The petrol stung into his cuts and it burned to a level of excruciating pain where digits used to be on his right hand. Fray knew that he was going to die.
How
was the only unanswered question.

The vehicle screeched to a halt at the gates of the industrial junkyard that represented Kingstonhill wharf. The security entourage dragged Fray toward the submarine graveyard. A variety of transport forms lay in states of decay, but Wheeler had his mind set on using one of the derelict conning-towers for illumination purposes. When they located a suitable rusting hulk, Wheeler spoke.

“Strap him up with the cord guys, upside-down, in an X-shape, across the tower. He’s gonna be our saint Peter!”

Some of Wheeler’s men did as their leader had instructed, and as the man was secured, other security staff arranged a pile of planks and loose wood directly below the ‘staked’ Vance Fray. Many litres of additional combustible fuel were dowsed on Fray and the woodpile. Jess Wheeler started to bark further orders when the stake was ready.

“Hamilton, Mace, get ready with those cameras. Set me a long trail, Easton. I want to be out of range when he fires up!”

Then Wheeler approached Fray, who had again started to slump into unconsciousness. Even when Fray was so close to death, Jess couldn’t resist a mocking gesture.

“Now stay awake, pretty-boy. You’ve got a nice bonfire coming your way and I don’t want you to miss a second of it”.

After slapping Fray around a bit more, Wheeler walked over to the start of the fuel trail that would ignite the man who had once been his front-line boss. Fortune had changed for both of them! Voight approached his former security-equal, with a more humane inclination in his mind.

“What goes around comes around, doesn’t it, Vance? Perhaps you enjoyed your Chicago slayings too much. Still, this should help, bite on it. Farewell”.

Voight had managed to insert the suicide pill into Fray’s mouth without the others seeing his action. He descended the conning-tower and rejoined Wheeler. The trail was lit and Fray’s eyes rolled shut for the last time, just before his body was claimed in the mass of flames.

“Shoot, fellas” Wheeler cried to his cameramen, and stark against the night-sky a terrifying image of MC-Project retribution was captured - a flame-branded cross with a pyre beneath.

The MC Project ranks awoke to a nightmarish image the next morning. Hanging from the ceiling and stuck to the walls of the Designation were vivid colour posters of Fray’s charred body amidst the flames. To comply with Wheeler’s directives, Fray had been strung up in an X formation - upside down! His charred black frame could be seen with the flames devouring the form. The night sky ‘framed’ the image to good effect and written on across the midnight blue was a chilling warning...

...THE PRICE FOR HIDDEN AGENDAS FROM THIS DAY FORWARD - DON’T CRUCIFY OUR PROJECT FOR YOUR OWN PREROGATIVE.