The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (8 page)

“What are you doing?” asked Bob.

“I said want this thing open,” Herb answered.

“Seriously? You’re going to slam it against the wall?” asked Bob.

“There is something about this chest,” Herb responded, looking at it again.

“I think you’re nuts,” stated Bob.

“It’s our job to inventory everything thoroughly before it goes into storage and right now I want to see what is inside this THING!” Herb replied, throwing it hard against the wall.

The chest bounced off the floor, landing upside down but didn’t open.

“Satisfied, Wonder Woman?” asked Bob like Herb was an idiot.

“Just hold on a second.” Herb picked up a metal rod.

“I think you’re going way overboard,” said Bob. “It’s just a chest.”

“I want to see what’s inside it!” Herb stated, striking the top of the chest with the rod multiple times.

“Really? You’re that hard up?” asked Bob.

Herb kept striking it, denting it on the top and on the side.

“C’mon, you freaking thing,” he said, taking a break, panting from his abusive workout.

“You happy now?” asked Bob in disbelief. “Lock it up already.”

“I tell you, for a piece of junk it sure is a tough little bastard,” stated Herb with a crooked smile, picking up the chest.

Suddenly, thin pink, green and purple staticky lightning bolts came out of the chest, gluing Herb’s hands to it like it was a powerful downed power line.

“Hey! What’s going on?” he cried. “Oh, God! It hurts!”

Bob stood, horrified, watching Herb become consumed in a conduit of electrocution as thin lightning bolts covered his entire body, his body shaking and lifting six-feet above the floor.

“Drop the damn thing, Herb!” shouted Bob, scared out of his mind.

“I can’t!” Herb screamed.

Herb’s eyes and mouth opened wide, shining with bright light as powerful beams of fire-like beams shot towards Bob from Herb’s eye sockets and mouth, incinerating Bob in the blink of an eye. Herb’s entire body exploded into atoms in an instant, leaving nothing behind.

The metal chest dropped to the floor, clanking against the concrete. It fixed itself in the upright position, causing all the lightning, power and fire to zap back inside it, making the room quiet again with no one having witnessed anything. As it sat on the floor, it repaired its dents as the triangular patterns popped themselves outwards, making soft metal sounds like an aluminum can.

CHAPTER THREE
A NEW DISCOVERY

Chris walked down the corridor of the Arizona Cancer Center in Tucson, heading towards Kerry’s room. He loved her with all his heart but hated being there. It was a painful reality for him to see her lie in her bed looking so ill post-chemotherapy. It reminded him of the family and marriage he’d never have. The thought of this was like a sharp knife cutting him deep into his heart that was so painful it left him nothing but unspeakable numbing pain. He entered the room as a nurse checked the monitor screen at his wife’s bedside. Kerry lay on the bed, sleeping.

“Hi there,” said the nurse in an upbeat voice.

“How is she?” asked Chris, sounding down.

“Looks like her blood pressure is okay for now,” said the nurse, typing something on the keyboard beneath the monitor screen.

Chris sat at her bedside, watching her sleep. Her bald head and pale skin didn’t take a strand of beauty from her, in his eyes. He straightened the oxygen piece for her nostrils that was crooked. The nurse glanced at him with an empathetic smile then left the room. Chris took a deep breath then sighed, wishing she would wake up, but no such luck. Despite all the hell she had been through, she looked peaceful with her arms down at her sides with an array of cords attached to her fingers.

“Started the new job today,” he stated in a soft voice.

Kerry remained unconscious with no movement other than her chest making a gentle rise as she inhaled. He looked at his watch, noticing it was getting late. The long first day at the Red Phoenix was taxing, having a tour of most of the departments, doing a lot of walking and riding the transit system, sitting through endless boring orientations of health benefits and retirement plans. Chris felt weary, rubbing the sides of his head.

“Sleep well, babe,” he whispered, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead.

He went to leave.

“How was Dr. Siddoway?” asked Kerry in a tired, drowsy voice.

“Fine!” he answered, turning swiftly, glad she had awakened. “You’re awake, that’s great. I was just about to leave,” he added, sitting down beside her. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, she answered, shaking her head. “How do I look without hair?”

“No different than the gorgeous woman I married,” he responded with a smile.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” she said, sighing.

“For what?” he answered, taking hold of her hand.

“I know you’ve always wanted to have a good life, being married with children,” she replied, trying not to choke up on tears. “I feel like I failed you and robbed you of that.”

“No, no, no,” stated Chris, sounding reassuring, his eyes watering. “I’ve had a wonderful life already with you and with our son.”

“I suppose I’m going to see Kirk soon, aren’t I?” Kerry asked as a tear rolled down the side of her face.

“One day at a time, honey,” said Chris.

“I never imagined I would die before the age of fifty, Chris,” she said.

He closed his eyes, hating it when she spoke of death.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” he asked.

“I do feel a bit thirsty,” she replied. “Is my water still there?”

Chris held up a Styrofoam cup of water with a straw and helped her take a sip.

“Are you doing okay being alone at the house?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? It sucks,” he chuckled, trying to cheer her up.

“I hate it that you’re unhappy,” said Kerry.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, raising his voice in a positive tone. “I have a new job. My wife is still here talking to me. Things are looking up. I still have plenty to be grateful for.”

“I love it that you’re strong enough to stay positive,” she added. “You’ve been through so much; you deserve more.”

“I’ll tell Siddoway that,” stated Chris.

“What are they having you do at this new place?” she asked.

“I’m working with another guy in Siddoway’s department,” Chris answered in an excited voice. “We’re making some new, exciting weapons that will help police officers and federal agents to be safer out there. And guess what, I work in a lab eighty levels below the surface.”

“Sounds interesting,” stated Kerry.

“Oh it is,” said Chris, standing up, sounding like a kid telling his mom about a new toy. “One of these new designs even allow one to fire electricity from their shoe after stomping their foot on the—”

Chris looked up at Kerry who was out cold, falling unconscious in the middle of his excitement. Her deep blue eyes were closed for the night.

“Well, it was almost a conversation,” said Chris, watching her sleep. “Good night, honey.”

He stepped into the men’s restroom across the hall. He buried his face in his hands, fighting back his tears as he struggled to overcome the despair in his life.

***

Chris returned home, plopping his briefcase on the dining table with a dreary face. He poured himself a glass of diet cola, turned on the flatscreen in his living room and watched the news. The news anchors were announcing the newly opened Red Phoenix with their phony cheerful, guy-smiley facades, rambling about all the jobs it had created for the state of Arizona.

He looked at Kirk’s picture on the wall. Chris was proud of his son’s photo, in which he wore a marine uniform with a strong face and handsome grin.  His eyes drifted to another picture of Kerry, Kirk and him smiling on a boat right after he and Kirk pulled a twelve-pound rainbow trout from the lake. He smiled as he noticed Kerry’s oversized fishing hat and how it hung down on her forehead as she sat close to him.

He set his drink on top of his electric piano and played a romantic song, humming a chorus, sounding like a professional. He stopped, took another drink of soda and looked at Kerry’s picture again.

“It always cheers me up, babe,” he mumbled.

***

The next morning, at the Red Phoenix, Chris and Scott carried a steel chest through a lab, wearing white, full-body lab suits—head protection with face shield, and blousy one-piece top and bottom with zipper running down the middle. They set the chest on a counter, letting out a breath like it weighed a ton. There were stacks of black cases containing Siddoway’s weapons that needed testing throughout the lab.

The lab was pristine with transparent glass walls with the Red Phoenix logo on them. There were counters with equipment on top all around the spacious polished floor. Some of the equipment had aluminum foil ducts like on the rear of a laundry dryer running from the ceiling into the top of them, a square glass case with digital boxes on the front and metal framing around it. A set of three round, thirty-gallon tanks bubbling fluid inside of them sat next to the glass case.

“Damn, this is heavy. What’s inside this thing?” asked Chris.

“This, my friend, is the secret to Siddoway’s inventions,” Scott answered, unlocking latches on top of the chest then opening the lid.

There were six glass jars encased in steel that were packed in foam padding inside the steel chest. Scott lifted one of the jars. A bright, sparkling light was inside the jar.

“What is that?” asked Chris.

“Tritium,” Scott answered with a grin, setting the jar back in the case.

“Tritium?” asked Chris. “I thought it was a myth as far as using it for science purposes?”

“Not anymore,” Scott responded. “A department on level minus eighty can do it now and can even put it in a jar.”

“Tritium is a powerful source of energy,” stated Chris. “Siddoway uses this for his weapons?”

“Absolutely,” Scott answered.

“Is it safe?” asked Chris.

“It’s been tested multiple times,” Scott replied. “I’m telling you, you’re in a good place. Siddoway’s weapons are going to change the world, take us right into the space age.”

“I suppose the
Death Grip
weapon is powered by—”

“—You got it,” Scott interrupted. “It all comes back to this,” he added, holding up the canister again. “Hey, it reminds me. Do you want to see Siddoway’s other inventions that are in experimental phase?”

“Sure,” Chris replied.

“C’mon, it’s up on level minus sixty-two,” said Scott.

***

Scott led Chris down a hallway off the main corridor, heading towards the experimental lab; some employees, wearing casual apparel and lab coats, passed by them.

“Why do Siddoway’s weapons come here?” asked Chris.

“They just have to go through a final approval with the board,” Scott answered.

“The board?” asked Chris.

“You know, just a committee made up of a bunch of old geezers in lab coats, holding clipboards who tell Wickenburg, the director, that Siddoway’s inventions are the bomb,” Scott responded.

“Have they ever refused his weapons?” asked Chris.

“Yeah, right. That will be the day,” Scott answered. “If I was Siddoway, I’d be insulted that these old farts even have the opportunity to test his weapons and lay down an opinion on them,” he added, leading Chris through a door that had the title
Experimental Division
above it.

Jaymon Romero, a lab assistant, sat at desk, typing at his computer terminal.

“Hey Jaymon, what’s up, man?” asked Scott in a cordial tone.

“Hi Scott,” Jaymon replied.

“I got a new recruit on board with me so I’m just showing him around, you know what I mean?” said Scott.

“That’s cool, so what can I do for ya?” asked Jaymon.

“I wanted to show the rookie here the XV9,” said Scott.

“The freeze gun?” asked Jaymon with a smile.

“You know it,” Scott replied.

“Man, the stuff that guy, Siddoway, can come up with,” said Jaymon, sounding amazed.

“Is it still waiting on approval?” asked Scott.

“The board was going to put their stamp on it tomorrow or the next day but you should be good to go,” Jaymon responded. “Head on in and I’ll buzz the door for you.”

“Thanks brother,” said Scott, fist-bumping Jaymon. “C’mon Chris.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Chris.

“You too,” Jaymon replied, returning to his typing.

In the next room over, Scott led Chris towards a glass case the size that of a two-hundred gallon fish tank in the middle of the room. Chris’ eyes gleamed at an exotic silver weapon that was lying on a stand inside the case.

“So, that’s it, huh?” asked Chris.

“Trust me, you’ll like this,” Scott replied, putting in the code on the side number pad.  “Since you work in the department and Siddoway trusts you, I’ll tell you the code.”

“What is it?” asked Chris.