The Dark Rift: Redemption (10 page)

"Yeah, that's what I heard, at least," Eric said. "Sounded as if they acted like a bunch of criminals instead of SWAT."

              "You're right not to trust them. They're not from the government. They're from the Gypsum Corporation and they're responsible for a lot of what's been happening lately."

Eric looked at the floor again for a moment. "What do you mean, what’s been happening lately? Do you mean the earthquakes? San Francisco?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Jodie said. “It’s a long story, but you should know you can’t trust them.”

“These people, this Gypsum Corporation, why would they do that?” Eric asked. “I mean, millions of people died. Was it an accident?”

Jodie felt sorry for Eric. To know anyone would purposely cause such devastation would be a difficult story to swallow. “No, it wasn’t an accident. But, it could get worse if I don’t get to Nevada.” She watched his face go through a range of emotion and waited.

“Well, I don’t know if I can buy all that, but where's it in Nevada you said you needed to go?"

"I didn't say. You don't need to know, either," Jodie said as she peeled back the foil lid from a
fruit cocktail.

"Well, I'm making a run to Hawthorne for supplies," Eric said. "You're the only thing holding me up right now. I don't suppose that'd get you any closer to where you need to go, by any chance?"

Jodie smiled for what felt like the first time in quite a while. "Hawthorne? Well, I guess we should look at a map."

Bonnie felt like she was sliding through space, her sanity gradually slipping away. She felt incapable of understanding, much less accepting what her husband had told her. She sat alone in a room with her son, Tim, trying to piece things together, her memories playing over and over. Nothing of what she knew of her life with David was true. If what he'd just told her was really the truth, he was heroic beyond comprehension. If it was lie, he was indeed a monster among men.

"Mom, are you okay?" Tim asked.

Bonnie looked down at her son, thinking he was starting to look so much like his father. "Yes, Tim. I'm okay. How are you after hearing what your father had to say?" Bonnie hoped her son might have thought of something she hadn’t; some reason to believe David, some reason to hope.

"I dunno," Tim said. "He sure seemed upset about it all. I mean, if he was making it all up, it sure was a good story. Do you really think he's gonna get us out of here?"

"I don't know," Bonnie shrugged. "I just really don't know what to think right now." She put her hands over her eyes. "I just want this all to end. I’ll never forgive your father for bringing us here."

Tim yawned. "Yeah, I really wanna go home, too."

Bonnie reached over, about to take her son's hand, when someone came to the door.

The door opened, revealing a guard with a machine gun standing in the hallway. "Time to go see your friends," the man said. "Come with me."

"But . . . David. Where's David?" Bonnie asked, reluctant to go anywhere without her husband knowing.

"Mr. Martin's who sent me," the guard said. "Just do like I said. Get up."

"Come on, Tim," Bonnie said, standing up. "We'd best do what he says." Bonnie walked out into the hallway, Tim trailing her.

The guard reached out and pushed Tim back into the room. Bonnie lunged at him, but the guard closed the door and locked it. "The boy stays here."

"No. No, he comes with me," Bonnie said. "Let him out of there now, or I'll scream for my husband."

"Mom, are you okay?" Tim called from inside the room.

The guard leered at her, not saying anything. Bonnie
considered running but where would she go? Before she could decide what to do, the guard grabbed her by the arm, clamping his other hand over her mouth. "Want to make this difficult? Well, have it your way," he whispered in Bonnie's ear, dragging her down the hallway as she heard Tim pounding relentlessly on the door.

The guard pushed her against the wall, his full body weight leaning on her. Bonnie could barely breathe, yet she could smell the stench of alcohol on the man. He reached in front of her with a handful of keys and opened a door, pushing her inside the room. Bonnie fell to her hands and knees. He stepped in after her, closing the door behind him. She watched him as he took off his jacket and set his gun down near the door.

"Time for a little recreation, don't you think?" he said.

* * *

Chuck woke with a start, feeling his body bouncing up and down on the train deck. He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping, but realized they were coming to a stop. As quietly as he could, he slid over the side of the deck and pulled himself far under the train. Moments later, he heard the sound of men’s voices as the Gypsum guards exited the side door and moved onto the platform. He waited, until it sounded like they were moving away, and slowly pulled himself up.

Standing up, he felt weak and realized he was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. He sneaked over to the edge of the train, watching the guards moving through a doorway leading to a hallway. Chuck jumped up on the platform and hid in the shadows. That was when he saw it. The glow of the vending machines perked up his spirits altogether.

He could see the Three Musketeers wrapper gleaming in the dim light like a beacon in the fog. That was the way he felt. Foggy. Not like himself. Almost weary. A dose of chewy chocolate would be just the thing he needed. Chuck jogged over and quickly reached around the back of the machine and unplugged it before ripping the door open. A tall stack of the candy bars waited for him. He grabbed at them, filling his Hello Kitty bag, and shoved the last one in his mouth, wrapper and all. Chuck could almost feel the sugar hitting his veins. He looked at his arms, wondering, did he really have veins anymore? He swallowed, turned around to follow the guards, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What the fuck are you?” the guard said, a baffled look on his face.

It looked to Chuck like someone had decided to come back for a snack. He didn’t answer. He was still so hungry. He reached into his bag for another candy bar when something sparked off of his chest. The guard was shooting at him, backing up toward the door.

“Well, I guess you ruined my surprise,” Chuck said, lunging forward and catching the guard in one step.

Chuck swept his hand at the man to knock him down and hit him square in the jaw. He could hear the man’s neck snapping, followed by the sound of the gun hitting the floor. The man stood for a moment, as if his mind didn’t realize he was already dead, then crumpled to the floor.

“Sorry. I think,” Chuck said, swallowing another candy bar. He swung the strap of his bag over his head. His body had grown so large, he couldn’t get his arm through the strap, so left it hanging around his neck, like a feedbag on a horse.

From the hallway, Chuck heard the others calling for someone, probably the man he’d just killed. Footsteps were coming in his direction. He hid in the recessed area next to the candy machine and waited. There was one guard he needed to have a very personal talk with.

The guards burst through the door, weapons raised. One bent down to check on the man he’d just killed.

“He’s dead,” the guard said. “Looks like his head was almost knocked off. What coulda done that?”

“Everybody spread out,” another guard said. “See if we can find this guy and return the favor.”

Chuck recognized the voice. It was the guard who'd been barking out orders earlier, the one who set the explosive charge. He waited in the shadows as two guards came his way. Chuck reached out as they passed, grabbing each one by the neck, crushing their windpipes. He squeezed until the men were silent, then he slid their limp bodies against the wall out of sight. Chuck looked toward the trains, seeing two more men walking along the tracks. He climbed the wall and crept slowly up to the ceiling, hanging upside down, his Hello Kitty bag swinging back and forth underneath his chin. Too late, he saw it. A Three Musketeers bar, sliding out of the end of the bag, floating through the air toward the guards below.

The bar landed with a thunk on the track in front of the two men, who, for just an instant, stared at it as if they’d never seen anything like it before. They looked at each other, then slowly up. At him.

“Hi,” Chuck said, with his best smile. Then he let go, falling to the men as they raised their guns, hitting them before either one could pull the trigger, the weight of his body flattening both men into the track bed. Chuck jumped up into a crouching position, dismayed that one of the dead men lay on his candy bar. He peeled the body up and extracted the bar, which was embedded in the man’s back.

“What the hell is that?” a voice said behind him.

Chuck spun around, seeing two men, automatic weapons drawn, ready to gun him down. He put his candy bar in his bag to keep it safe.

“I don’t know,” said the other guard. “Looks like Skeletor or Robocop, or something.”

That was when Chuck noticed the badge pinned to the man’s chest. It gleamed and sparkled, even in the dim blue light. Before he could take a step forward, they opened fire. His skeleton was lit up like a firecracker, sparking with each bullet that pinged off of the dense metal. Chuck lunged toward the men, bashing in the head of one and grabbing the other by his collar. He pulled the man’s gun out of his hands and snapped it in half. “You’re coming with me,” he said.

The man whimpered and started to scream.

Chuck plastered his hand over the man’s mouth and dragged him up to the hallway door.

“Now, behave, or I’ll have to snap your spine. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” Chuck asked.

The man shook his head, his body going somewhat limp. An odor of something awful wafted up to Chuck’s nose and he spun the man around.

“You’ve soiled yourself,” Chuck said, thinking of a day long ago when he'd been just a rookie. But, he’d paid his dues and this man was going to pay his now, too. Chuck dragged him through the door and closed it behind them. “First things, first,” he said. “Give me the badge, Billy.”

The guard stared at him, sweating profusely, his lower lip quivering. “Huh? How do you know my name? Did you say badge?”

Chuck sighed. “Yeah, you moron. The one pinned to your chest. Carefully take it off and hand it to me.”

Billy looked down at his chest. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Yeah,” he said, his hands shaking as he held it out to Chuck.

Chuck grabbed the badge from Billy and fastened it to his own collarbone.

Voices called out from the train platform and Chuck turned to Billy, making a sign for him to be quiet. He surveyed the ceiling for a moment and then jumped up and tore off a six-foot section of four-inch diameter iron pipe.

Billy stumbled and fell to the floor, looking terrified, as Chuck jammed the pipe through the metal door and thrust it at an angle into the concrete on the other side. He bent down to look through the little square window and saw guards running toward the barricaded door. “Good luck with that,” he said to them.

Chuck realized he was becoming overwhelmed by the smell of Billy. “Take those pants off and leave them here,” Chuck bellowed at him.

“No way. No sir. I’m not takin’ my pants off,” Billy said, looking belligerent.

Chuck smiled and took a large stride toward him.

Billy held up his hands. “Okay, okay man. They’re comin’ off.”

“The underwear, too,” Chuck said. “You smell like something dead.”

Billy fumbled with his belt, finally getting the buckle undone, all the while mumbling, “Jesus, Jesus.” He undressed and then slipped his boots back on. When he was done, he stood naked from the waist down to the tops of his boots.

“Looks like your brain’s not the only small thing you got,” Chuck said, laughing in his insect-like cackle. Behind him, the Gypsum guards banged against the metal door, trying to open it to no avail. Chuck heard another noise then, too. A deep rumbling. The floor began to vibrate ever so slightly and the lights flickered, casting blue shadows down the corridor. “Time to go,” Chuck said.

“What the hell is that? Is that an earthquake?” Billy asked.

“Not quite, Billy,” Chuck said, grabbing the man’s arm. “I’d call it more of a stampede.”

* * *

Jodie lay in the back seat of Eric's pick-up truck, hiding from anyone who might glance their way. Eric had told her he was known to make a run for supplies every three days and it was unlikely he'd draw any attention if it looked like he was alone. Sunlight shown in the side window, warming her, and she found herself unable to stay awake. "Eric, if anyone tries to stop us, wake me up, okay?" Jodie didn't know how much she should trust Eric, but found she had no choice in the matter. Sleep was taking her and she had nothing left in her to fight it with.

"Sure, Jodie," Eric said. "We're about four hours away from the supply house, so have a good nap."

Jodie could hear his voice trailing off in her head. She tried to respond, but couldn't. The hot shower she'd taken earlier at the fire station, the first shower in four days of sweating, bleeding and pounding her body into the ground, had finally relaxed her. She was almost too tired to dress in the scrubs Eric had given her. But, her exhaustion also left her with her guard completely down.

Jodie was faced with a decision; either trust Eric and rest, or give up altogether. But she knew surrender wasn't an option. If she had to, she'd dispatch of him as easily as she had the others she'd killed. No one was going to keep her from her destination, from her father, from Mei. Jodie pulled the fireman's jacket up around her chin and let the sun bake her battered body.

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that the sun had shifted while she slept and she was lying in the shade of late afternoon. The truck gently glided down the pavement. Opening her eyes wider, she could see the roadside was lined by tall trees, not redwoods, but pines. Jodie wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her clothes were drenched. She felt battered and stiff. She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Hey, you're awake," Eric said. "How are you feeling?"

Jodie yawned, looking out at the trees passing by. "I've had better days," she said.

"You were making a lot of noise in your sleep," Eric said. "From the sounds of it, you were having quite a bad dream."

Jodie wondered which was the nightmare. Awake or sleeping, she was in the same sort of hell. "Where are we, Eric?"

Eric pulled a map off the dashboard and handed it to her. "We were detoured the long way around Hawthorne. Right now, we're in Nevada, about twenty miles east."

"Detoured? Why? I mean, who detoured us?" Jodie asked.