Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4) (33 page)

The sense of
déjà vu
permeated the place for Tommy, whether he was doing tests in the lab, eating at the
cafeteria, or even sitting here in his room, where the feeling seemed at its strongest. 
It was like being in the most haunted house in the world, every room crowded with
ghosts he couldn’t quite see.  Sometimes, like now, the feeling filled him with a
strange, paranoid terror.

Tommy left the television on as he left his room and walked down the deserted hall. 
He wondered about the people who’d originally occupied the rooms on this hall.  Nazis
had lived here, he reminded himself, and he broke out in nervous sweat.

He walked to the common room, where there was a big-screen television, multiple game
consoles, surround-sound stereo, a foosball table, and a pool table, along with bookshelves
full of military action movies and video games.  They seemed to expect more residents
in the future.  Tommy doubted they’d provided all this stuff just so he could play
with himself.

He turned out the light, lay down on the couch, and blasted an “Arena Rock” music
station over the television to drown out his thoughts.  The bad feelings weren’t so
strong here, and he thought he might be able to sleep.

In that halfway region between wake and sleep, still aware of himself lying on the
couch and hearing Guns N’ Roses at painful volume, he had a strange waking dream in
which he saw himself walking down the same dormitory hall and entering the same room,
but the walls were drab olive, and all the entertainment gear had been reduced to
a bulky wood-cabinet radio and an old-fashioned phonograph player with a big funnel
amplifier.

Tommy wore heavy black boots in his vision, which echoed on the wood-tiled floor of
the boys’ hallway and common room.  Within the dream, he somehow knew that this was
the boys’ dorm, and there were, elsewhere, both a girls’ hall and a conjugal hall
for the eugenics portion of the project. 

In his vision, the common room had more spartan furnishing, and a Wagner record had
replaced the sound of Guns N’ Roses.  Tommy reasoned that he must be completely asleep
now, because he could only hear the television very distantly.

A boy was in the common room, reading a book on ancient Roman wars—the bookshelf in
the room was stocked only with books about Germany and war. Tommy knew the boy was
from Holland and his name was Willem, that he was twenty-two years old, while Tommy
was only nineteen in this dream, but Tommy had authority over him.  Tommy’s authority
stemmed from the black uniform jacket he wore, and the black boots.

“Willem,” Tommy said. “It’s Saturday night, we should have some fun.”

“Do you mean it?” Willem adjusted his thick glasses and sat up.  He was a squirmy,
fidgety, awkward kind of guy.  He seemed awed that Tommy would approach him. 
Niklaus
, Tommy thought.
  To him, I’m Niklaus
.  “What do you have in mind?  Can we leave the base?”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind.” Tommy, or Niklaus, leaned against the door, lit
a cigarette, and blew smoke at Willem. “I have an automobile parked just outside the
wall.  We could drive to a town, drink at a pub, go dancing.”

“I am not so good at dancing.”

“You’ll have to learn fast.  I invited Roza and Vilja to come with us.”

“You did?” Willem jumped to his feet.  He was enamored of the pale, wispy Vilja, the
quiet Swedish girl who claimed to see ghosts and demons.  Though Willem had never
spoken about his feelings, they were obvious to Niklaus, whose job included paying
close attention to the male supernormals living here.  Willem was often seen trying
to work up the nerve to speak to Vilja, but he was awkward and hesitant when he managed
to talk to her. 

“The girls wanted to get out, too.  We’ve all been cooped inside too long,” Niklaus
said. “They’re ready for a good time.  You don’t mind that I invited them?”

“No, no.  Alise doesn’t mind if we take the girls out?”

“Are you scared of my cousin?” Niklaus snickered.

“I’m not afraid of a woman!  When do we go?”

“Now,” Niklaus said. “The girls are already waiting for us with a bottle of wine for
the drive.  You may want to put on a fresh shirt...something with buttons.  And a
tie.  You want to look smart.”

Willem ran back to his room to get ready.  Niklaus loaned him some cologne, laughing
inwardly as he watched Willem splash it all over his neck and face.

“Keep quiet as we leave,” Niklaus whispered as they walked down the hall. “We don’t
want anyone getting mad at us for not inviting them, but the car only seats four.”

Willem nodded and winked.  He meant it to be sly and conspiratorial, but it was so
exaggerated that Niklaus laughed at him.  Niklaus led the way out into the main corridor
and up the very long flight of steep concrete stairs to the exit.  He had a key that
allowed him to unlock the door from the inside.

They passed through the concrete bunker housing the door, where Niklaus exchanged
quiet nods with the S.S. officer on guard duty at the desk.  Niklaus had already spoken
with him earlier to ensure he and Willem were not added to the official record of
entries and exits.

They left through the west gate, the supply gate that opened onto a loading dock,
which was dark under its high tin roof.  Niklaus jumped down to the newly paved road,
and Willem only a hesitated a moment before jumping down after him.  They walked along
the road.

“Where is your car?” Willem asked, looking from the high brick wall to the forest
across from it.

“Just ahead.  What will you say when you see her?”

“Vilja?” Willem cleared his throat. “I will tell her she looks beautiful...in the,
in the...moonlight.”

Niklaus snorted laughter. “Here.” He stepped off the road into a grassy fire break
carved through the trees.

“It is parked in the woods?” Willem stopped, looking worried.

“Of course.  You will see why, I promise.”

They walked into the dark woods, lit only by occasional patches of moonlight.  Niklaus
smirked each time he heard Willem stumble over a branch or stone behind him, and laughed
when Willem tripped and fell on his face.

“It’s like watching a clown perform,” Niklaus said, as Willem pushed himself back
to his feet and wiped dirt from his mouth.

“How much farther?  Why is it so far away?” Willem asked.

“It’s by the creek.  Can you hear it?” Niklaus led him down a narrow trail to an overgrown
creek bank.  At this altitude, the creek was only a thin sheet of icy water, spread
over a bed of sharp rocks.

“I still do not see a car,” Willem said, fidgeting hard now, shifting back and forth
on his feet. “Where are the girls?”

“They’re just across the creek.” Niklaus pointed to the deep woods. “I told them you
would signal them by starting one of your magic fires with your mind.”

“What?  No, I can’t just do that right now.  I must prepare...”

“You can’t do it at all, can you, Willem?” Niklaus asked. “You tricked the German
scientists who came to study you.”

“Niklaus, what are you saying?” Willem shivered hard now. “Why would you say such
things?”

“Don’t lie to me, Willem.  You tricked them.  You aren’t going to lie to me again,
are you?”

“Please, Niklaus!”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t...I only...it was a trick, I performed it in the street for money,” Willem
said. “I learned the right materials for a very slow fuse, and how to time it just
right, so it appeared that, it appeared that...” He swallowed hard. “I could create
the fire with my mind.  I tried to make a stage act of it.”

“But why trick the scientists, Willem?”

“I was hoping they would take me to a university to study me, and I could take classes...Please,
Niklaus, you must tell no one!”

“Everyone knows, Willem.  Even the typists and the janitors know.  You haven’t done
a thing since you arrived here.”

“Everyone knows?” Willem turned stark white.  He looked at the woods across the creek.
“The girls aren’t here, are they?” he whispered.

“You’re of no use to us, Willem,” Niklaus said. “And you know too much for us to let
you go.”

Willem was trembling now. “What are you saying?”

Niklaus drew the Luger pistol from his belt and pointed it Willem’s face, aiming for
the reflection of the moon in the left lens of his glasses.

“Oh, no!” Willem gasped. “Oh, God, Niklaus, no, you don’t have to—”

Niklaus shot him through the head, shattering the glasses and blasting out the back
of his skull, and Willem tumbled into the shallow, cold stream.  Kranzler had stressed
that he wanted it done with a single shot, to keep things quiet.

Niklaus watched as the boy lay bleeding in the creek, his remaining eye staring lifelessly
at the stars.  When he was certain Willem was dead, he holstered the pistol and walked
back to the base.

Mariella awoke slowly, the tranquilizer gas still floating in her brain like leftover
wisps of fog.  Her eyes crept open, revealing drab gray walls, a single steel door
with a small, clear window, a sink, a toilet.  The ceiling had a sickly glowing fluorescent
panel and the sort of tiny black inverted dome that usually housed a security camera.

Her bed was hard and narrow, like a prison cot.  The entire place looked like a prison
cell, in fact, and there was no handle on her side of the door.

She tried to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there.  Slowly, her memory
came back. They’d been among the stones at Carnac, and someone had captured them. 
Her precognition had failed to protect them—she’d thought they might have more time
before the man that Jenny called “Kranzler” came to capture Seth.  It looked like
he’d captured Mariella, too, which was probably why her vision of the event had been
so fuzzy.  It was hard to see her own future, and even harder when perception-distorting
mushrooms and sleeping gas were added to the mix.

Then she remembered
everything.
  Before they’d been captured, Mariella had fully remembered dozens of prior lifetimes—not
all her past lives, because the process had been interrupted, but plenty of them. 
She was the ancient soul called the oracle, and Mariella Visconti was just one of
many masks she’d worn and discarded over the millennia. 

Another such mask was Mia Ruggieri, the poor, clueless peasant girl from Sicily whose
reputation for seeing the future had attracted the interest of the German scientists. 
They’d offered her a sizable amount of money for joining their research, enough to
provide for her parents and six brothers and sisters for years to come.  Under strong
pressure from her parents, Mia had accepted the offer, turned all the money over to
her father, and traveled off to Germany with the strange foreign men.

She stood, stretched, and walked to the door to peer out the window.  All she saw
was a concrete corridor and a similar steel door across from hers.  She touched the
blank area on the door where the handle should have been.  She pounded her fist on
the window, but nobody came.

With nothing to do, Mariella eventually reflected on her past dealings with Kranzler
and the others, trying to prepare for whatever might lie ahead.  Looking into her
own future, she only saw a dark blur.  Even her visions of love and passion with Seth
had deserted her.  She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, or maybe
frightened—it could mean that one or both of them were going to die, and so the anticipated
future was gone.

Within an hour after she awoke, a voice crackled from somewhere in the ceiling above.
“The general wants to see you.”

A man in a black uniform appeared at the window in her door.  She nodded and gave
him a small wave.

“I should warn you,” he said.  It was odd to watch his lips move in front of her but
hear his voice electronically amplified above her. “We’re all armed with X3 TASER
guns.  We won’t hesitate to take you down if you give us trouble.”

“There’s no need to expect trouble from me,” Mariella said. “I promise.  I wish to
see the general as well.”

The guard nodded.  There was an electronic buzz, followed by a mechanical thunk, as
her door unlocked.  The guard pulled it open and let her out into the hall.  Two other
guards were there, with their hornet-yellow electrical stun weapons drawn and pointed
at her.  She held up her hands and gave them a reassuring smile.

She noticed that the guards wore armored black uniforms without no flag or logo, as
if the organization that employed them did not want to be associated with their actions. 
Two wore thick helmets, face shields, and gloves, as if specifically prepared to deal
with paranormals.  Mariella wouldn’t be glimpsing any of their futures.

They led her down the corridor.  She noticed Seth through one of the narrow windows,
still unconscious on a bed in his own cell.  She didn’t see Jenny in any of the cells,
though, just a Latino girl she didn’t recognize, sitting on her cot and staring into
space.