Windigo Soul (8 page)

Now he could relate. Whenever Hank focused on the big picture, the thought of never leaving the commons, never going outside again, he sunk into such a deep depression it was almost too much to bear. So he focused on the present. Took it day by day until he didn’t need to put an effort into doing so. He made friends, got used to his duties, and learned to enjoy the small luxuries and comforts life in the plant had to offer.

Despite making peace with his new life for the most part, he still missed Peg and Sara terribly. He tried to come to terms with the fact he’d never see them again but it wasn’t quite the same as grieving for a loved one who passed away. If Peg or Sara died then he’d never see them again. Case closed. One hundred percent guaranteed. But just the fact that he knew they were out there, living their lives, completely oblivious to the fact he was alive and well, made it that much worse. There was virtually no chance they’d ever be together, but there was still that nagging sliver of hope, torturing him. If he could only get a message to them somehow. In his darkest hours, lying awake in bed, he almost looked forward to the day when he knew Peg would retire. At least he would get some closure. But that still left Sara.

*****

“Ready to seal up,” Seamus said. He picked up his side of the pod cover and waited for Hank. “You try that new apple pie last night?”

“What? I didn’t see any.” Hank picked up his end and they carried the dense plastic cover over to the pod. “All that was left for dessert by the time I got there were those rock hard molasses cookies.”

“Mmm-boy. You missed out, Son. Ain’t too often they break out something new in the cafeteria. You snooze you lose.”

“I guess I’ll have to start eating dinner earlier,” Hank said. “That’s not the first time I’ve missed out on something by the time I get to eat.”

“You’re an old man now,” Seamus grinned. “You gotta start acting like it. Rule one is get up by four in the morning and eat dinner at four in the afternoon. Pretty soon you’ll be telling me you don’t go to bed ‘till eight or nine o’clock!”

Hank chuckled and helped Seamus push the pod into position so it could be secured to the boiler core. Once it was filled with conductive fluid and brought online, they’d be done. It was the last swap for the day and he was looking forward to the last hour of their shift. Hopefully if things kept quiet, he’d have a chance to get even with Seamus in their ongoing gin rummy tournament.

“Woah!” Hank jumped back and banged his head on the pod directly behind him.

“Man, what’s the matter with you?” Seamus scowled. “Scared the hell outta me.”

“I could’ve sworn I just saw her hand twitch. Did you see that?”

Seamus leaned over and shook his head. “Ain’t nothing twitching. Come on, let’s get this shit done. I gotta take a squirt.”

“I’m telling you, I saw her move. You checked for a pulse, right?”

“Yeah, I…” Seamus scratched his head. “Look, the bitch is dead, alright? Won’t make a difference in a minute once it’s full anyway.”

The woman in the pod opened her eyes and lurched upwards, banging her head on the unlatched cover. Hank and Seamus flinched at the same time as the cover fell to the floor and the woman sat up. She thrashed about, obviously far from dead and scared out of her mind. She ripped the breathing apparatus from her mouth and screamed a loud and inhuman shriek. She clawed at the tubes and wires surrounding her, brushing them off like spider webs.

Hank looked to Seamus for answers. “What the hell is going on?”

Seamus just shook his head and backed away from the wailing woman. “Hell if I know! You charged the gun from last time, right? Light was green?”

Hank looked over at the wall to the device that shocked the retirees mounted there. If it wasn’t fully charged, the full amperage needed to render the retiree brain-dead wasn’t delivered. It was designed to not fire at all if that was the case, but it was malfunctioning and Seamus had been waiting for maintenance to fix it for months. It was the reason he insisted Hank checked the status light every time before they used it and why Seamus took extra care when checking for a pulse. Hank couldn’t remember if he had. Another step overlooked while the complacent men talked about pie.

The woman’s thrashing caused the pod to tumble off the scissor lift and crash to the floor. Moaning and heaving, she slowly rose to her feet. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Bald and naked, bulging and insane eyes filled with panic. She spotted Hank and Seamus and shuffled toward them on unsteady feet. Her frantic shrieks of terror turned to two barely coherent words – “help me.” To Hank, it sounded like “ellme.”

What amps did manage to flow through her body weren’t enough to kill her, but the woman’s brain definitely took a little scrambling. She was completely out of her mind. Her mouth was foaming and she held out her arms like a cartoon sleep-walker, shuffling slowly closer to the men like a zombie.

“Ellme!”

The tube inserted in her rear end to collect waste ran out of slack and slid out onto the floor. Blood trickled down the inside of her bare legs. Hank looked again to his partner for answers but Seamus looked just as dumbfounded as him. He was just about to suggest they make a run for it when the door opened and one of the soldiers stuck his head in to investigate the commotion.

It was Private Jim Papst, a pretty decent kid that chatted with Hank a few times in the past. Jim was one of the few soldiers in the plant who treated the retirees like actual people and not cattle that needed babysitting.

The woman spotted Papst and must’ve concluded by his uniform that he might be able to help her. She turned from Hank and Seamus and started shuffling in his direction.

“Ellmee!”

Papst looked at Seamus. “Holy shit. What did you guys do?”

“I don’t know. She just woke up, I swear.” Seamus cleared his throat and took a step toward her. “Hey, uh…lady? Lady, calm down.”

She kept walking toward Papst. “ELLMEE!”

The young private switched into soldier mode and struggled to find some authority in his voice. “Okay, ma’am. Just calm down, nobody is going to hurt you.”

“Ellmee!”

He held up both palms and raised his voice. “Just hold it right there. I need you to stand still.”

“Ellmeeeeee.”

Papst had his back up to the wall and couldn’t retreat any further. He finally unstrapped the sidearm from his holster and trained the gun at the woman’s bare chest. “Stop! You need to stop,
right now!
”

She paused just a few feet from him and swayed on unsteady legs.

A look of relief flashed over the soldier’s face.

She vomited.

It shot out of her mouth with tremendous force and hit Papst square in the chest and splattered on his face. He reacted with his trigger finger and fired three times. The first shot missed the woman’s head by an inch and hit one of the pods behind her instead. The pressurized tube shattered, causing the conductive fluid to rain to the floor. The pod’s inhabitant followed, his skull, softened by months in the fluid, split open on impact like a melon.

The second round also missed and severed a hydraulic line on the boiler and shorted out a control panel. A warning klaxon and strobe lights filled the room. The third and final shot hit pay dirt. It entered the woman’s forehead and blew out the back of her skull.

Hank and Seamus stood in horror as they watched the lady’s brains spray onto the floor. A second later she collapsed and was still. Papst still pointed his gun at her and was white as a ghost. Sirens wailed, lights flashed, and the smell of cordite, vomit, and blood filled the air.

Hendricks and a few soldiers rushed into the room. The lieutenant took in the carnage in front of him - a destroyed pod, a smoking boiler core, and a half-headless naked woman sprawled out and bleeding on the floor.

Private Papst snapped back into reality. “Sir, she wouldn’t stop,” he shouted over the sirens. “I didn’t mean to shoot her, but she barfed on me!”

“Shut the hell up!” He jabbed his finger into Papst’s chest. “Clean yourself off and haul your ass down to my office on the double!”

He turned his attention from the vomit-covered private to Hank and Seamus. “As for you two, I don’t know what the hell happened here, but I intend to find out. And there will be hell to pay.” He pointed at the dead woman. “Now get this thing off my floor and clean this mess up. I’ll deal with the two of you later.”

Hendricks stormed from the room. Hank and Seamus stood for a moment taking in the mess. “I checked the damn pulse,” Seamus muttered to himself as they set to work cleaning up.

Chapter 11

The LED display on the treadmill hit the six mile mark and Sanderson mashed the resistance reset button with his thumb. He slowed his pace to a quick walk and wiped the sweat from his face.

He checked the blank display on his cell phone, grateful to be able to get a run in. Technically, he had the morning off, but word of a possible mission had been going through the agency for the last couple of days and everybody in his department was on call.

He took a deep breath and a sip of water as his heart rate slowed. He stared at the blank brick wall in front him, enjoying the endorphin rush from the run and the sweat covering his body. His workout room was simple. A single treadmill in the middle of their basement storage room. The walls were bare and a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only light. It was a dark, dusty, and depressing cobweb filled space. He loved it.

One of the perks at the office was a state of the art gym with top of the line equipment for the operators to use. It was one of the few places where the State spared no expense since John and his colleagues were expected to stay in peak physical condition.

For whatever reason, Sanderson had a hard time working out there. He could never get into the zone and lose himself in the simple action of physical exertion the way he could in his basement room. Down there it was just man and machine, removed from the world and it’s distractions. Only the steady rhythm of his feet on the conveyor to keep him company. His sanctuary. He never felt quite right on the days he didn’t have the time to fit in a run. John clicked off the light and locked the door behind him before heading up the stairs to the apartment.

Sara stood in the middle of the living room sorting clean laundry into different piles. “Good run?”

“As good as it gets.” John picked up a black nightgown from the basket and held it up. “Hey, this is new.”

Sara snatched it from his hand. “Gimme that! It was supposed to be a surprise. I was saving it for a special occasion.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. “Well until that happens, why don’t we get a little practice in?” He kissed her on the cheek. Things had being going pretty well between them lately and he wanted to take advantage of the good times while they lasted.

“Ugh, get away from me, sweaty man.” She pushed him away and playfully swatted his chest. “Besides, Mom is right in the next room.”

“Hey, I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

Sara threw a towel at him. “Down, boy. Put that energy into folding laundry.”

“What’s your mom doing anyway?”

Sara sighed and glanced at the wall clock. “Still in bed.”

“Still? It’s almost eleven.” John watched as his wife’s playful attitude evaporated.

“I know. Yesterday she almost slept until noon. I don’t know if I should force her out of bed or just leave her be.”

“She seems to be getting worse.”

Sara’s lip started to quiver. “I’m trying to be understanding, but at the same time it’s hard not to feel angry. We have such little time left and it’s like she doesn’t want to spend it with me at all. I thought it would be different.”

“I’m sure it’s not intentional, babe. She’s just having a hard time, and can you blame her? She lost Hank and her home and…” John left the last part unsaid and hugged his wife. More than anybody, she was fully aware her mother’s retirement grew closer with every passing day.

Sara rested her head on his chest. “I know. Do you have to go into the office this afternoon?”

“I should, but I don’t
have
to. Maybe we could take Peg out for a late lunch. Do a little shopping or something to lift her spirits.”

“Really? That would be great.”

“Sure, just let me…” Sanderson’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hold that thought.” He flipped it open. “Sanderson here.”

Sara’s face fell and she went back to folding laundry.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He closed the phone and sighed.

“Guess we’ll take a rain check on that lunch?”

“Sorry, babe. Should’ve known better than to make plans out loud like that. I guess I jinxed us.”

“That’s okay. Think you’ll be gone long?”

“Hard to say. Sounds like half the data center on the east side just went down. Could be as simple as some bad cables or one of the switches taking a dump.” Sanderson strained to remember if he’d used that lie recently. Sara’s face remained unchanged as she folded another towel. “I’m just gonna hop in the shower quick and head over there.”

*****

Sanderson waited at the corner a few blocks from his apartment. He usually needed a good hour or two after a run to completely cool down and despite the quick shower, he was still sweating bullets. One of the agency’s nondescript sedans pulled up to the curb and he hopped in.

“What’s the deal?” He yanked off his mask, turned the AC on high, and pointed the vents at his face.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Carter said. He reached into the seat behind him and handed Sanderson his tactical kit.

“If I ever do like it, I give you permission to take me out personally.” Sanderson checked the load on his Springfield. “Seriously, what is it?”

Carter let out a deep sigh and swerved around a bus, barely missing another as it headed for them. “It’s Kodiak.”

“Kodiak? What, he needs backup? Dammit, Carter stop fucking around and just…”

His friend looked him in the eye.

“Shit. What happened?”

“Not sure,” Carter said. “I just got the call, same as you. Just enough time to grab the car, gear, and preliminary orders. TIER ONE RISK. PHILLIPS, MARK
.
I asked for confirmation half a dozen times and didn’t believe it myself until the photo came through. It’s Kodiak.”