Ice Storm (24 page)

"You're in good shape for your age. You'll make an excellent subject."

"Don't do anything stupid. Cy will look for me."

"Perhaps. But he won't find you, not down here." She smiled. "Scream. Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want. Fair warning though. This room is soundproof."

With some effort, Graham managed to lift his chin and peer over the glass. He saw a string of large metallic cylinders. Engraved brass plates were mounted on their surfaces. "Jim Peterson," he read aloud. "Say isn't that the maintenance guy?"

"Yes." Holly crossed her legs. "We cryopreserved his life."

"Cryopreserved? Wait, you froze him?"

"No, we put him into a state of suspended animation."

"What's the difference?"

"He might be legally dead, but he's still alive. Someday we'll be able to revive him."

Graham twisted his wrists and yanked. But the bindings held tight. "You can't possibly know that for certain."

Holly's gaze tightened by an almost imperceptible amount. "You still haven't answered my question. Do you believe in heaven?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because immaterial souls are a thing of fiction. They don't exist."

"You sound pretty damn sure of yourself."

"In order for an immaterial soul to exist, it has to satisfy two constraints. First, it has to exist separately from the physical body. Otherwise, it would perish upon death. And second, a soul must be the essence of a person. It must be the source of free will and decisions."

Graham gave up on the bindings.

"Here's the problem," she continued. "Once upon a time, the human mind seemed like a miraculous invention, only capable of a Higher Power. It was, in other words, the soul. But advances in neuroscience have changed that. Every emotion, thought, and memory can now be traced to brain activity or perhaps, brain structure. In other words, the brain is the true source of what theologians like to call the soul."

"That's a depressing way to look at life."

"But accurate. Intelligence, emotions, and everything that defines us are nothing more than computational processes. We aren't individuals with souls. We're boxes with wires."

"So, if there are no souls, that means Jim is gone for good."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Quite the opposite. Like I said, we cryopreserved him."

"You mean you turned him into an ice cube."

"He's not dead. But make no mistake about it. Death is the end. There's no coming back from it. It's truly eternal oblivion." Her face became soft, contemplative. "Throughout history, the idea of a soul served three purposes. It provided a pre-neuroscience explanation for the mind. It comforted people who feared death or who'd lost loved ones. And it civilized people. Without the threat of Judgment Day, society would collapse into chaos."

"You don't know death is the end."

She gave him a sad smile. "I know it's hard to hear."

"So, mental activity has a mechanical aspect to it. Big fuckin' deal. It's just an association, not a causation."

She cinched her eyes shut. "I don't follow."

"In other words, maybe brain activity doesn't cause thinking," Graham replied. "Maybe it's the other way around."

"That's ridiculous. That's …" Holly's face turned red. She quickly stood up. "This conversation is finished."

"Too bad. I was just getting started."

"Oh, you're still getting started. Just with something else."

She walked across the platform. He twisted his head in both directions, but he couldn't see what she was doing.

He heard a light splash. Then water touched his toes. He cringed as an icy feeling spread throughout his body.

"If you have anything to get off your chest, this is the time to do it. You won't get another chance for a long time." Holly smiled sweetly. "A very long time."

Chapter 67

"That's odd." Trotter released the right doorknob and tried the left one. "They're both locked."

"Don't worry. I asked Dutch to lock them." I knocked on one of the doors. "It's Cy. Open up."

A few seconds passed.

I knocked again, louder this time. "Dutch?"

Slowly, a frown worked its way across my face. I glanced at Trotter and Jenner. "He probably stepped out for a moment. Can you guys look for him? And get Pat too. He must still be sleeping."

They nodded in agreement. Then they walked quickly down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

Lifting my fist, I pounded on the door. "Can you hear me?"

In the distance, I heard Trotter and Jenner searching the station. Doors swung open. Shouts filled the air, growing increasingly frantic.

Unsettling thoughts nagged at my brain. Graham had complained about his failing health. Maybe he'd collapsed.

I looked at the doors. My eyes fixed on the crack between them. Then I stepped forward and kicked it with all my might. The doors burst open, crashing loudly against their doorstops.

I marched into the room.

"Dutch?" I frowned. "Beverly? Where the hell are you guys?"

There was no answer.

Trotter raced into the room. "No sign of him."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah."

Jenner raced into the laboratory. "He's not out there."

"He's not here either. Neither is Beverly." I exhaled. "Where's Pat?"

"He's getting dressed. He'll be here shortly."

Vague ideas and notions sprouted up in my brain. I thought hard, trying to figure out what my subconscious was trying to tell me.

I thought about the power plant and the diesel generator. I thought about Kirby and its blackouts. And I thought about Baxter's confusion over the whole situation.

Maybe the power plant wasn't the reason for those blackouts. Maybe Kirby was sucking up far more power than anyone could've ever expected.

I glanced at Trotter. "What did Pete tell you over the phone again?"

He winced at the mention of his friend's name. "That people were trying to kill him."

"Did he say how?"

"Not exactly. He just said they were experimenting on him."

"Did he say anything about the actual experiments?"

"No." He cocked his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Apparently, Kirby has a history of power outages. Maybe those experiments are the problem. They could be sucking up more than their fair share of electricity."

Jenner shook his head. "I don't know what you guys are talking about. But how's this going to help us find your friends?"

"We've got strange experiments, presumably using lots of electricity. And yet, there's no sign of these experiments anywhere. Plus, we've got two people vanishing from a locked room."

"You mean …" He looked around the dark space. "You think there's a secret room in here?"

I nodded.

"I don't know." He studied the walls. "As far as I can tell, every square inch of this building is already being used."

"Then maybe it isn't next to us." My eyes drifted to the ground. "Maybe it's beneath us."

Chapter 68

Graham could no longer scream. His jaw opened. Stress lines appeared on his face. But no sounds passed through his blue lips.

"In case you're interested, the temperature is now four degrees Celsius. That converts to roughly thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit." Holly checked her watch. "At this point, your body's core temperature is dangerously low. I figure you've got another thirty minutes before you reach the point of no return."

Graham stood stock-still. His brain felt logy. Nearly twenty minutes had passed since water first touched his feet. At first, he'd tried to struggle, to free himself. But now, he could barely move his muscles.

Holly hopped off the concrete platform. Then she drummed her fingers against the vat. "I'm a lucky girl. A few years ago, technology of this caliber was only a dream. Now, I'm surrounded by it."

Tools banged against machinery. The sound echoed in the room.

"Don't mind Rupert," Holly said. "He's just double-checking our equipment."

Graham's teeth chattered.

"You're probably wondering where this place came from. Well, every now and then, we'd hear strange noises. You know, like things settling into place. Other times we'd feel a random air current or smell a dusty odor. At first, we shrugged it off. We called it the Ghost of Kirby." She smiled at the memory. "But eventually, we got curious. So, Rupert pried up the floorboards. But all we found was concrete."

Graham's body started to shake.

"Well, the noises got louder. The air flowed faster and the odor became overwhelming. Finally, Rupert took a sledgehammer to the floor. And voilà." She waved her arms. "Heaven opened up to us."

"Heaven?" Graham spat out the word. "More like hell."

"It turns out this was originally supposed to be a basement. But the idea was abandoned during construction once it became clear Kirby wouldn't be a popular science hub. I guess it would've cost too much money to fill it in. So, the builders decided to cover it up instead. As far as I know, no one around here knows about it."

"I don't care about that." Graham shook his head. "Let's say you're right. Let's say you can revive me someday. Doesn't it bother you that I don't want to be frozen?"

Holly regarded him for a moment. "Do you know anything about Nazi scientific experiments?"

Graham's eyes glassed over. His leathery skin shriveled up like a prune. "A little."

"Well, the bulk of the cold weather experiments were led by a scientist named Sigmund Rascher."

"Sounds like an asshole."

"That's not fair. He wasn't some random torturer. He wanted to advance science. You see, Nazi pilots who'd been shot down over icy cold waters often suffered hypothermia. The Luftwaffe—that was the German Air Force—wanted to be able to warm them up again."

Graham's consciousness started to fade away. He did everything in his power to concentrate on the conversation.

"Rascher subjected three hundred individuals to extremely cold temperatures. Some were stripped naked and forced outside into freezing cold weather for up to fourteen hours at a time. Others—not unlike yourself—were immersed in tanks of ice water." She paced in front of the vat. "Rascher and his assistants meticulously recorded data from their experiments. They noted changes in body temperature and heart rate. They reported alterations in muscle response and urine. Afterward, they would try to warm up the subjects."

"Sounds barbaric."

"Oh, it was. But the science was sound. Until that time, most physicians suggested a gradual process of rewarming. But Rascher showed that immersion in hot liquids was more effective under certain circumstances." Holly winced. "Unfortunately, one hundred of his subjects died to prove that."

Graham snorted. "The price of science right?"

"I'm sure that's how he justified it," Holly said. "And he'd have a pretty good case to prove it. Our knowledge of how the human body reacts to freezing temperatures is primarily based on his work. You don't have to approve of his methods. But you can't argue with his results."

"Those results have blood all over them."

"Interesting you should mention that. There's an ongoing controversy over what to do with Rascher's data. Some of my colleagues want to pretend it doesn't exist. Others say we might as well use it." She eyed him with curiosity. "I'm guessing you belong in the former category."

"Only because I have a conscience."

"I disagree. If his data can save lives, it would be criminal not to use it."

"Does any of this," Graham's voice became hollow, "have a point?"

"Yes. The Nazi research on frozen subjects was achieved via unthinkable means. I'm sure you find my work just as distasteful. But someday it'll save millions of lives."

"Ever heard of the expression 'fruit of the poisonous tree'?"

Holly shook her head.

"It means if the source is tainted, then anything gained from that source is tainted as well. To put it bluntly, nothing good comes from evil." Graham's chest expanded and contracted. "And this is as evil as it comes."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Graham licked his chapped lips. "You're no better than the Nazis. You're a murderer."

"No, I'm not. I don't want you to die. I don't want anyone to die." She reached into the tank and ruffled his hair. "I want to put you into a cryonic state. Years will pass and you'll stay frozen here with the others. Technology will improve. Diseases will be cured. Eventually, I'll revive you. You'll be reborn in a manner of speaking."

"Unless I never wake up."

"Face it, Dutch. You're an old man. You don't have many years left. Even Cy is worried about you."

"He is?"

"Yesterday, he asked me some hypothetical questions about a person dying of old age. It was obvious he was talking about you." Her eyes shone brightly. "Don't you see? You don't have to die. Cryopreservation can keep you alive while scientists figure out how to cure the problems associated with being elderly."

Her words resonated deep in Graham's heart. She had a point. But he wasn't ready for cryopreservation, not yet. "Shouldn't this be my decision?"

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple. I can't just let you go."

He shivered. "Then you might as well kill me. Because if I ever wake up, I'm strangling the life out of you."

"You won't get the chance. I have big plans for you. How do you like the idea of spending your new life as my experimental subject?" She gave him a teasing look. "That's not such a bad fate, is it?"

Graham dipped his head. Most people could only go so far. The human conscious could only take so much. Evil, by and large, had its limits.

However, Holly was a different sort of evil. She didn't want to hurt him. And she wasn't particularly interested in scaring him. Instead, in her own sick way she was trying to help him, to extend his life. She truly thought she was doing the right thing. And that made her more dangerous than even the most deranged psychopath.

Graham lost all feeling in his body. His voice started to slur. "Please. I don't want this. Not now."