Immortal (11 page)

For what seemed like an eternity, he
struggled to straighten his body, as he pushed against the wall
until his legs trembled. He pulled against the Guardian’s head with
all of his strength until his fingers began to slip. And then
suddenly it happened. He could feel his body become completely
straight. He could feel the Guardian begin to tip backwards, and
with one last push, he desperately struggled to free himself from
the mass of the Guardian as it fell. He rolled to his left, and
pushed against the Guardian’s head to give himself leverage to get
away. He hit the stone floor and rolled away, inches from where the
Guardian slammed down onto its back. He saw with amazement that its
control stick was still in hand. Jericho jumped to his feet, and
ran to the back of the chair and grabbed the chains that would be
used to bind a person for interrogation. He pulled them free from
the loop bolted to the floor, just as the Guardian’s arm reached
out and grabbed for him. He backed away as the control stick swung
at him, and brushed the cloth of his pants leg. Jericho swung the
heavy chain towards the base of the control stick, and it glanced
off of the Guardian’s hand and dislodged the metallic stick and it
clattered across the floor. He did not wait to see if the Guardian
tried to rise. Jericho clambered across the floor and dove for the
control stick. He turned back to the Guardian, just as its arm shot
out and reached for his ankle. Jericho kicked out, and knocked its
hand away, and then quickly shoved the control stick up against its
head. Blue light arced. The Guardian began to convulse, and smoke
began to roll out from its neck joint. Jericho jumped to his feet,
control stick in hand. He reached down and kicked the chain away
from the Guardian’s body and then grabbed it and ran for the open
door. He quickly looked out into the hallway. It was clear. He
stepped outside, and paused briefly at the control panel of the
doorway. He was unsure which of the many buttons to hit, so he
began to hit several until suddenly the door slid shut and he heard
the lock engage. Now what, he thought. I’ve escaped the Guardian. I
have a control stick. But where do I go? Where is Gabrielle?

He reasoned that if he continued down the
hallway, away from the direction that they had come, it would lead
into the control center, which was the last place he wanted to be.
That left him one option. To go back the way they had come. He
wasn’t sure if he could remember which turns the Guardian had taken
as it came in, and even if he made it back to the doorway to the
outside, he was unsure if it would open for him. But he knew he
could not stay here. He had to find Gabrielle. And if he stayed
here, it would mean punishment, or worse. Now, he had attacked a
Guardian. He had never even heard of anyone that had attacked a
Guardian. And until today, as he had witnessed the trouble in the
meal room at the factory, he had not even realized that it could be
done. His mind ran in overtime as he began to retrace the path
towards the outside. He came to where he thought the first turn had
been made, and cautiously peered around the corner. The hallway was
empty. He turned the corner and quietly made his way to the next
turn. Here, as he looked around the corner, he could go left or
right. Though he was not positive, he thought that the Guardian had
come from the right. He chose to go to the left.

The hallway remained clear as he headed
through the gloom, which was lit occasionally by an overhead light.
When eventually the hallway ended in a dead end, he noticed the
faint outline of a doorway set into the wall, but he could see no
control panel to operate the door. Then, barely visible in the
gloom, was a single square recess. He reached out and touched the
indentation, and was startled when the door suddenly slid open. He
jumped back and shut his eyes against the blinding light. As he
squinted, he stepped forward and peered through the doorway. It was
another hallway with smooth floors and walls, with light that
beamed down from the overhead ceiling panels. It was something
Jericho had never seen. He glanced down to the left, and then to
the right. He turned left. As he still squinted at the brightness
of the light, and felt naked in the brightness of the overhead
light, he stayed close against the left side of the hallway as he
moved. He tightened his grip on the control stick in his right
hand. The chain in his left hand, tightly wrapped around his wrist,
dangled nearly to the floor. He was all too aware that he had made
a commitment when he had attacked the Guardian back in the
interrogation room. If he was stopped now, he thought, if they
caught him, he would never see Gabrielle again. He would be unable
to help her. He might not see anyone again. As this thought ran
through his mind, a panel suddenly slid open in the wall just in
front of him, and a Guardian stepped through into the hallway.
Jericho reacted instantly, and shoved the control stick into its
side. The blue sparks exploded from the contact, and as he pulled
the control stick back and readied himself for his next attack,
smoke began to billow from the Guardian. It had never raised its
control stick. Jericho realized that it had not even known he was
there. It had not yet had a chance to realize that anyone was
there. It stood immobile as it smoldered.

Cautiously, with the control stick pointing
out, Jericho made his way around the disabled Guardian, and once
past, he ran farther down the brightly lit hallway. He glanced back
occasionally to make sure the Guardian had not moved. As he moved
he began to think that maybe he should have pushed the Guardian
back into the pathway from which it came, instead of having just
left it to stand there in the hallway. Or maybe he should have
tried that pathway to see where it led. It had been dark like the
original pathway that he had come down, which might mean that it
led back to the control center, or it could have led elsewhere.
Regardless, he had chosen this direction, and had in fact left the
Guardian to stand there. He could not go back now. He knew he had
to continue to move. To not do so would mean that they would catch
him and this would all be over before it began. He turned the
corner, and the hallway came to an abrupt end. Here, the door was
plainly visible, as was the control panel to the right. But as he
approached, he knew that he didn’t know how to make the door open.
He looked closely at the panel, which contained a series of numbers
and characters, some that he had never seen before. There was
nothing like an ‘Open” button, or even the color coded buttons like
at his station. No red, no green. He moved the control stick into
his left hand, and placed his right hand on the panel. Maybe, he
thought, I can feel the code.

He slowly moved his hand across the pad, his
finger tips just grazing each of the buttons in a systematic
pattern. Seconds passed as he began to feel as though his fingers
were being drawn by an unseen force to certain of the buttons. He
pressed one of the buttons, and a green light lit up at the top of
the panel, but the door did not open. He let his hand continue to
drift across the pad and pressed a second button, and a second
green light lit up at the top of the panel, but again the door did
not open. His finger tips brushed across one of the buttons on the
bottom right of the pad, and he almost pressed it, but stopped just
before he did, and moved to the one just above it, pressed it, and
now a third green light lit up. Once again the door did not open.
He pulled his hand back, and wiped his palm on his pants, then
reached back towards the panel, as he tried to feel what the next
button may be. He closed his eyes, and concentrated. He felt the
layout of the panel. He saw the buttons in his mind, and the
sequence of the buttons he had already pressed. Rapidly they all
began to blink off and on in his visual image, as the images
blinked though the sequence he had already pushed, and finally
ended with a single button which remained illuminated. Top row,
third from the left. He opened his eyes, and reached out to touch
this button. Before his finger made contact with the button, the
door slid open. The open door revealed the huge metallic figure of
yet another Guardian. Its control stick came up even as its
presence still registered in Jericho’s mind. His eyes went
wide.

“Jericho.” She mumbled. Her words were barely
audible. Her eyes were still closed and she fought to slowly regain
consciousness. Her eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids. Her
breath was still shallow, but slowly her respiration gained in
frequency. “Jericho.” She said again softly. Suddenly her eyes
opened wide, and she gasped, as she tried to sit up in the bed.
Covered by a white sheet, she realized that straps ran across her
chest and held her down. For a moment she fought against them.
Gradually she stopped the struggle and relaxed back onto the bed,
and let her mind take in her surroundings. She was in a small room.
All white, as light emitted from the ceiling panels. The room was
empty except for the bed in which she lay, but as she looked up and
back over her head she saw the sinister many armed mechanical
device that rose up behind the bed. At first she was startled, but
then realized that it was motionless. As she calmed herself down,
she began to remember what had happened. Jericho had jumped in
front of the Guardian to protect her. She remembered how he had
been controlled. And how the Guardian had raised its stick towards
her, with her hand still clamped in the plague scanner.

“The plague.” She said, as tears welled up in
her eyes. “I’ve got the plague.” As she began to cry. The tears
streamed down her face, and though she tried to bring her hands to
her face to wipe them, the straps that held her in place would not
allow her to move her arms. “Oh, poor Jericho.” She wept. To have
become so close, she thought. They had been so close to finally
becoming linked, and to have it end so. Their plans of a family,
brought to a halt, and completely outside of their control. It hurt
her heart to think of how close they had come to their new life. Oh
why, why hadn’t they applied to be linked before they went to the
meal building, she thought. Why, oh why. She laid there and quietly
sobbed with her eyes closed. As her mind ran back to their
conversations, she knew that their lives were forever changed. She
realized that she must now be in quarantine, and the worse part was
that she knew that no one ever came back from quarantine.

How could it be? She thought. How could she
have the plague? No one she ever knew, not really knew, had ever
scanned positive with the plague. How could she have gotten it? How
could this be? It must be a mistake, she thought. It just must be.
She had to talk to some one. It was obvious. This had been a
mistake. She felt fine. Well, except that she felt little
disoriented, but that had to be from when the Guardian had hit her
with the control stick. She remembered the pain as her muscles had
clenched and unclenched involuntarily. She shook her head as if to
force herself to forget the feeling. The memories made her realize
just what Jericho had been through when he had been controlled, and
then interrogated, and those thoughts made her cry harder. Her
sobs, echoed throughout the small room, and their sounds made her
feel that much more alone.

“Hello!” She yelled expectantly. “Is anybody
there?” She yelled out again. Silence came the response. Would she
ever see anyone else again? She thought. Would the plague kill her
before she ever saw another person? Was she doomed to lie here,
strapped down and immobile, until the plague killed her? Would it
hurt? Would she be in pain as the plague claimed her life? Would
she be alive and awake as she took her last dying breath? She
wondered about her Mom and her Dad? A fresh round of tears overcame
her, as she thought about her brother? What about Jericho’s sister,
Rebecca, and his Dad? Wouldn’t they miss her? Would they mourn for
her? Would they hope that she might come back? Gradually her tears
began to subside as she realized that it was not just her life, and
Jericho’s life that had forever changed. All of their lives had
been changed. She sniffed, and tried to wipe her eyes against her
shoulder to clear them. This was a mistake, and she was not going
to stand for it. As she began to focus her mind on getting a hold
of herself, she thought that she needed to learn more about where
she was. What might be in this room that could tell her more. What
could be in this room that might help her to get free of these
straps.

As she refocused, she relaxed back onto the
bed, and began to test her bindings. She could feel the strap
across her chest, and felt that it went over her upper arms before
going down to the bed. She could feel that her wrists had straps
around them as well, and that they too were attached to the bed.
She could feel a strap across her pelvic area that had been pulled
very tight, to the point that she could barely move. There was
another strap at about knee level, and then she could feel two
other straps. Each wrapped around her ankles, and these too
appeared to be attached to the bed. She was wide awake now, with no
sense of the disorientation that she had felt when she first woke
up. If she could just get one hand free, she thought, she would
have a chance to get herself loose from her bindings. Slowly and
patiently she began to work both wrists back and forth against the
straps to see how they might be attached, and to see if there might
be any slack.

She could feel a small bit of slack on her
left wrist, but as she continued to work that wrist back and forth,
the amount of slack did not increase in the slightest. The good
news, she told herself, was that the amount of slack did not lessen
either, so she continued to work her wrist back and forth.
Occasionally she stopped to rest her wrist, and would then check
the slack on the remaining straps. There also was a little slack on
the strap across her chest, but try as she might, this would
increase none. Regardless of what she did, she could not feel any
slack in the ankle straps, nor could she create any. She began to
work at her wrist strap again, and knew that if she could get her
hand free, at least she would have a fighting chance of being able
to release the rest of the straps. Suddenly she heard what sounded
like a muffled cough.