Exodus (5 page)

“Mi casa es su casa.”  Mit grinned.

“Move dork.”  Steve shoved him as he walked in.

Mikey slammed the door behind him and the reason for the open window was immediately obvious.  An unbearable stench filled the air.  An odor unlike anything he’d smelled before.  It was sweet, but tart at the same time.  He could taste it on his tongue with every breath.  Like bitter apples and hot motor oil mixed the unmistakable smell of death.

Mit covered his face and squinted.  Holding his breath he passed through the living room and stopped next to a set of double doors.  “I think the office is in here.”  He gasped.

He pushed the double doors open and nearly tripped on one of the LSK cases.  Mikey caught his arm before kneeling down and trying to open the case.  It was secured with a number lock and a space to place your thumbprint.

Mit sucked his teeth and edged further into the office.  It was actually more of an empty room with a few cases and boxes thrown about.  The floor was a dusty white tile, like they would use in a hospital.  The walls were a creamy yellow color and smelled like they’d recently been painted.  A metal desk was pushed into the corner and covered in papers.

Steve walked over to the desk and began to rummage through it.  Nothing on the papers made any sense to him.  One of the papers read “Genome X Alpha-B” at the top.  What followed was a series of codes and decimals that may as well have been written in Mandarin.

“Mit, what the hell are we looking for?”  Steve asked angrily.

Mit had already grabbed and empty box and started tossing papers into it.  “I don’t know, grab anything.”

“What about this!”  Mikey smiled.

He was holding up a small, black, laptop with LSK stamped across the front.

“Found it under a box.”

Mit grabbed the laptop and examined it then tossed it with the others things he’d collected.

“We really should take one of those cases.”  He mumbled.

“That’s too risky; they’ll notice its missing.”  Mikey shook his head.

“Did you see that dumb looking guy?  He can’t count and if they find out they’ll just assume he lost it.”  Mit jabbered looking to Steve for support.

“Whatever, just grab the damn case and let’s go.”  Steve stormed out of the office and slammed the door.

“He’s been pretty crabby lately.”  Mikey laughed.

Mit shrugged and continued to pile papers into the box.  He’d amassed stacks of maps and what looked like instruction manuals, nothing he thought they’d miss.  Once he was done he slid it outside of the office and started dragging one of the aluminum cases.

“Mikey help me with this thing.”  Mit gasped and leaned against a wall.

He’d managed to move the case three feet before dropping it in defeat.  Mikey was still rummaging through drawers hoping to find another laptop.  He looked up at Mit and sighed when the office doors suddenly burst open. 

“They’re back!”  Steve yelled as he ran into the office.  “Let’s go!”

Mit dove at the window and peeked out of it.  A dirty, white van was slowly backing into the driveway.  His heart fluttered and his head swayed like he’d stood up too fast.

“How do we get out?”  He stammered in a panic.

“I told you this was a bad idea.  I said it over and over, but no one ever listens to me.  I say things and they’re smart things and they’re things you could learn from.  Why can’t you people ever just listen?”  Mikey started to rant.

“Both of you shut up and follow me.”  Steve waved his hands, cutting him off.

Without another word, he bent down and grabbed the box that Mit had slid into the hallway and took off towards the back of the house.  Mit and Mikey scrambled to grab the aluminum case and scurried after him.

They went down an empty hallway and stopped next to Steve who was slowly inching the door open.  He looked back at them and pressed his fingers to his lips.

“Cut through the backyard and we can take the side streets to Clark’s place.”

Mikey nodded struggling to hold the heavy silver case in his hands.  He turned and whispered to Mit, who had been anxiously trying to nudge him out of the door.

“I get it.  Let’s go!”  Mit squirmed.

“Shut up!”  Steve shot back.  “I’m trying to keep this door from squealing.”

Mit started to respond, but the sound of the handle on the front door jingling sent him into panic.  Without thinking, he shoved Mikey forward and all three of them burst through the door and fell into the lawn.

“Idiot!”  Steve mouthed at him as he rolled over and stood up.  “Well don’t just lay there.  Get the case and let’s go.”

Mikey jumped to his feet and grabbed the case.  Mit grabbed the other side and hoisted it onto his shoulders.  Running awkwardly they took off behind Steve, trying their best to keep up.

They raced through the grass and down the narrow street.  Once they were clear of the house they paused to catch their breath.

“They’re gonna know somebody was there.  The house is a wreck and we left the door open.”  Steve started as he stepped towards Mit.

“That place was a wreck before we got there and I closed the door back when I grabbed the case.”  Mit shot back.

“Come on.”  Steve rolled his eyes and walked off.

The sun had completely vanished and the buzz of streetlights masked their steps.  They marched silently between the houses as inconspicuously as possible.  Mikey and Mit moved slowly behind, straining under the weight of the dense case.

Steve paused as they came to a cross street and could see the Clark’s house in the distance.  A light shined through the window, signaling that Mrs. Clark was in the kitchen.  Mr. Crusty darted back and forth across the porch locked in deadly combat with his tail.

“Let’s hurry up and get inside before someone comes.”  Steve waved them on.

Gripping the box close to his chest, Steve darted across the street without looking back.  Mit barely had time to open his mouth as a set of headlights appeared from around the corner.  Steve whipped his head around as he heard screeching tires, but he was too late.

The white van clipped him in the side and he rolled onto the windshield before being flung into the air like a ragdoll.  The van didn’t even slow down, it continued down the street, the taillights fading into the darkness.

“Steve!”  Mikey yelled, a blood curdling sound.

Dropping the case they both rushed to his side.  He lay halfway on the sidewalk, halfway in the street.  His eyes were closed, his arm turned awkwardly behind his back.

Mit cringed as he turned Steve’s head, revealing a gash that ran the length of his skull.  Blood trickled from his mouth into a small pool accumulating on the street.  His chest rose slowly each time seeming to take longer.

The box he was carrying had been thrown across the street.  Papers and folders were everywhere and the laptop was lying broken in half on the sidewalk.

“Mikey, Mikey I need your help.”  Mit finally said frantically.

He pulled his shirt off and pressed it to Steve’s head.  Mikey stood over him, his hands shaking and tears falling from his eyes.  As Mit looked up his eyes stared past Mikey at the tall figure making their way across the street.

“Get him up!  Get him up we need to take him inside.”  Mr. Clark yelled.

He ran down the sidewalk covering the distance in a few strides.  Kneeling next to Mit he lifted Steve’s head.  He touched the side of his neck with two fingers then let out a sigh of relief.

“Mit grab his legs.  Mikey, gather his things and bring them in.”

Together Mit and Mr. Clark carried Steve into the house and laid him down on the couch.

“I need towels and ice.”  Mr. Clark said as he tore off around the corner.

Mit looked at Steve for a moment with tears in his eyes then dashed back outside to help Mikey.

“Fullerton!  Oh my god Fullerton what happened?”  Mrs. Clark screamed as she walked out of the kitchen.

“It’s nothing mother.  Go lay down, he’ll be fine.”  Mr. Clark called.

He rolled a towel in his hands as he walked back to Steve.  Mrs. Clark stood behind him, her hands clasped together over her mouth.  Mr. Clark dabbed at Steve’s head, slowly cleaning off the dried blood that stuck in his hair like paint.

“Mother can you fetch the peroxide.”  He whispered.

She turned to head back to the kitchen when Steve Suddenly jerked.  He sat up and his eyes shot open.  Mr. Clark stumbled backwards almost tripping over his feet.

“What…what happened?”  He gasped.      

“Crying won’t make the pain go away,” a dry, crackling voice resonated in Anthony’s ears.

He slowly sat up and wiped at his face.  “Hello…Hello,” he stuttered.

He was certain he’d heard a man’s voice.  It sounded like they were speaking through the wall.  The voice had a harshness that could only come with time in confinement.  A type of calm reserve tone, but bold like royalty.

“Have pride boy, for we do not bend so easily.  The will of men weighs little upon the scales of time.”  The man spoke again.

Anthony scooted his feet in and leaned his back against the wall.  “Where are you?”  Anthony whispered.

“Quiet in there!”  A guard yelled.

Anthony cringed and waited for a reply, but he didn’t hear another word just the eerie silence that the darkness brought.  He rolled back over into the corner and tucked his knees to his chest.  His head swarmed and he felt a death breathing weakness all the way down to his bones.

He must’ve have imagined the man talking.  It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.  Days upon days of isolation had put him on the brink of insanity.

He didn’t know the time or the day, but it no longer mattered to him.  All he could do was wish for death, but even that was asking for too much.  He closed his eyes and thought of far off places.  He tried to think of home, but could no longer form the image in his head.

“We do not bend so easily,” the man’s words replayed themselves in Anthony’s head.  If he was real, what could he know, what could he be talking about?  He sounded so close, like he was in the cell with Anthony.  But Anthony hadn’t seen or heard another prisoner since he’d been there.

His stomach groaned and the aching pains of hunger pulled at his ribs.  He winced and rubbed his face, his fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.  He’d lost more than thirty pounds in the two years he’d been there, all while growing half a foot.  His sunken eyes no longer held the promise of youth, but were overfilled with despair.

A rat scurried across the floor in front of him.  He dove at it barely gripping it by the tail.  He licked his lips longing for some form of meat.  It’d been days since he’d had a meal.

It squealed as he dragged it across the floor, scratching its nails into the metal.  Suddenly it whipped around and buried its incisors into his hand.

Anthony yelped and let it go.  The rat hopped away and quickly disappeared into a crack in the wall.  Anthony fell back against the floor and huffed.

Water slowly ran down the moss covered stones and dripped onto his face.  He shivered and pulled his legs in tighter.  With a sigh of exhaustion he closed his eyes and plummeted into a deep sleep.

He tossed and turned rolling back and forth on the hard floor.  As he slept, Anthony dreamt he was floating in eternal darkness.  He was trapped in the middle of nothing, like a lost soul between heaven and hell.

Every breath he took was shallow, like a weight had been pressed against his chest.  He felt crowded, the emptiness squeezing him tighter and tighter.  The darkness swarmed him, crashing over him like giant waves in the ocean.

“Wake up!”  A booming voice echoed in Anthony’s head like a drum.

Anthony slowly opened his eyes.  His nose was pressed against the brick wall, his face marked with the imprint of the jagged rocks.  He was drenched in sweat, but shivered uncontrollably.

He rolled onto his back and tried to focus his eyes.  Everything was eerily silent, but he was certain he’d heard something.  He held his breath straining his ears and then he heard it again, amplified inside his head.

“Wake up!”

It was hard to tell where the voice was coming from.  It was almost like someone had screamed into his ear.  Anthony scratched his head and then slowly spoke.

“He...hello?”  Anthony stuttered.

“You are still alive…that is good.”  The scratchy voice responded.

Anthony sat up and leaned back against the wall.  He rubbed his face and yawned. 

“Who are you?”

“Titles are unimportant boy.”  The man snapped back.

“Why are we here, what do they want with us?”

Anthony waited for a response, but there was only silence.  He was eager to find out something.  For two years the only contact he’d had was with the people holding him.

“Hello.”  Anthony mumbled.

“They want what we all want, power.  It is curious however, that you’ve survived this long.  If they haven’t killed you yet, it’s because they can’t figure out how.”

“If they haven’t killed me yet?”  Anthony repeated.   

“You’re still alive are you not?  Most don’t make it more than a few months.”

“How long have you been here?”  Anthony whispered back.

The man laughed.  “I lost count a long time ago, but we do what we must.”

Anthony cringed.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there either, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of a dingy cell being the rest of his life.  He thought death would certainly be more pleasant.

“What’s your name?”  The man said.

“Anthony…Anthony Dimair.”

“Well Anthony, my name is.”  The man paused for a minute.  “There was a time when I was known as Daviathan.”

“Daviathan.”  Anthony whispered.

Rubbing his fingers across the wall he sighed and closed his eyes.

“How did you survive being here so long?”  Anthony asked.

Daviathan sighed.  “They tried poking me with everything they could.  Understand that it’s not only their intent to end our lives, but to gather as much information as possible.  Their attempts on me were futile in both regards, as I knew they would be.  Eventually they moved on.”

“Why are we here?  What’s wrong with us?”  Anthony pleaded.

“There’s nothing wrong with you and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”  Daviathan said angrily.  “You sound young.  How many cycles have passed for you?”

“Cycles?  What are cycles?”

“Counts of a human life child, certainly you know this.  How many?  There are only so few of us around, surely we’ve met before.”

“Counts of a human life?  I am human…I only have one life.”  Anthony said poignantly.

“No, you are definitely not human.”  Daviathan said it with such certainty that it angered Anthony.

“I am!  You don’t know me.” 

“That is true I don’t know you Anthony.  But I do know humans can’t use amorphos.  Only the elementals harbor such power.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Anthony’s door swung open.  Hanson lumbered in the doorway grinning.

“It’s about that time wonder kid.  Good luck!”  Hanson snickered.

Anthony scampered into the corner and tucked into a ball.

“Please…please no more.”  He begged.

Hanson laughed and unhooked one end of the chain from the floor.  He gripped it tightly in his massive hands and started to pull.  Anthony clawed at the ground, but to no avail.

This was the first time Anthony had ever been taken out of his cell without first being sedated.  As Hanson dragged him across the floor, he looked around in awe.

They were heading down a narrow hallway that seemed to stretch forever.  Stone walls that were only a foot thick ran the length of the hallway in columns.  Every thirty or so feet was a red door embedded in the wall, but nothing behind it.

Anthony looked back at the room he’d just come out of.  The thin stone wall rose up to the ceiling, but was free standing.  There were no other walls, no cell, and no room.  There was no way he’d just walked out of there.

Hanson tugged harder and Anthony slid down the cold metal floor.  He wasn’t even resisting anymore, he didn’t have the strength.

They stopped in front of another red door and Hanson fumbled with the lock.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. After trying several he huffed and pounded his fist against the door.  Grunting his raised his massive foot and kicked the door open.

He yanked Anthony into the cold bright room.  Dropping the chain he grabbed him around the wrist.  Like a rag doll he tossed Anthony onto a table and began to strap him down.  Anthony didn’t even fight back.

The door opened again and Dr. Vorcick entered followed by a smaller, red headed woman carrying a clipboard.  She walked with her nose in the air and seemed to be rather annoyed that her presence was necessary.

“Vorcick if we could get this going; I do have other appointments.”  She sighed

“Why Certainly Cynthia, your time is greatly appreciated.  Hanson, stand guard.”  Vorcick demanded.

Grinning, Dr. Vorcick walked to the counter and pulled out a silver cylinder.  He sat it down and twisted the cap.  A thick mist slowly bellowed from the metallic thermos as he removed the top.

The door swung back open and a tall man with glasses walked in.  He sneered at Vorcick and then extended his spider leg like fingers and shook Cynthia’s hand.

“Dr. Shields, nice of you to join us.  I hear your work has had metered success.”  He said without expression.

Cynthia smiled.  “It means volumes that any work I’ve done has traveled to within earshot of you Dr.  Norton.  The pleasure is certainly all mine.”

Vorcick rolled his eyes.  “Masks.”  He mumbled as he shoved two in their direction.

Dr. Vorcick took the cylinder and poured the contents into a silver case at the end of the table.  The thick, yellowish sludge oozed out filling the case to the top.

“Are we certain we have the levels right this time?”  Dr. Norton asked.

“Yes, yes we are doctor.  Compound AB5 will succeed where the others have failed.”

“For your sake I hope you are right.”

Dr. Vorcick slowly unrolled twelve plastic tubes with needles attached to the end.  He grabbed Anthony’s wrist and grinned.

“Steady now boy.  You don’t want me making any mistakes.”

He plunged a needle into Anthony’s arm.  Anthony cringed, but the straps kept him from moving.  Vorcick continued, needle after needle until they were all embedded in Anthony like a pin cushion.

Looking back at the other doctors he nodded and rubbed his hands together.  He took a deep breath and glanced at the wall where a tiny camera was hidden in the glass.

“This is Dr. Vorcick.  We are now delivering compound AB5 to subject 977.”  He turned back to table and pressed a small button on the bottom of the silver case.

With a gurgling noise, yellowish fluid started to flow through the tubes towards Anthony’s arms.  He squirmed and tried to slip out of the straps, but they were pulled too tight.  He screamed, pleading with the doctor to release him.

“Stay calm boy!”  Dr. Norton said.

The yellow fluid inched closer and closer.  Anthony stared as the fluid spiraled down the winding tubes.  It slowed as it neared the needles buried into his arm.

Dr. Vorcick watched with eager eyes.  He smiled happily, pleased with what he had done.  Dr. Norton seemed much more skeptical.  He tapped his shoe impatiently and kept glancing at his watch.

Anthony’s chest rose up and down.  Then the fluid rushed through the needles and into his veins.  The sensation was instantaneous.  It was as if someone had poured fire into his arm.

He screamed and began to shake uncontrollably.  He wanted to rip the straps off his arms and yank the needles out, but they held firm.  His breaths became quick and shallow, his chest snapping up and down.  The monitors on the wall began to spike and Vorcick moved closer.

“This is it!  I know it this time.”

The tubes gurgled as the last bit of liquid oozed out of them and into Anthony.  Dr. Vorcick shut off the machine and continued to watch.

“No!  No!  Argh!  Ah!”  Anthony yelled as he shook back and forth.

“Please, please just make it stop!”  His voice amplified through the room.

Suddenly Hanson burst through the door with his gun drawn.

“Is everything okay boss?  I heard him screaming.  Dr.  Norton, I…I didn’t know you were in.”  Hanson began to backtrack as his eyes met the taller man standing next to Vorcick.

“Yes Hanson, everything is fine.”  Dr. Norton dismissed the hefty guard, flicking his hand.

Hanson spun around and walked towards the door.  He paused for a moment then stumbled into the hallway closing the door behind him.

Gasping, Dr. Vorcick clapped his hands in front of his face.

“This is it!  Look at the monitors, he’s stable.”  Vorcick pointed across the room.

Cynthia seemed mildly impressed.  She jotted notes onto her clipboard as she whispered something to Dr. Norton.

Anthony’s chest jolted upward as his back arched in a manner unnatural, even for a jellyfish.  His arms shook uncontrollably and his feet crinkled and cramped.  He tried to relax, but his muscled tensed and spasmed.  Each movement was so intense he felt like his spine was going to snap in half.