“Things have changed. My memories are whole for the first time in ages. As for what happened at the mill… I was mistaken. What I faced wasn’t any leader or commander. It was my Other I faced.”
“Your Other?”
“My doppelganger psychosis. The remains of my consciousness, left in the stratum. When I was sent here, it was without those… unnecessary parts we conceal in order call ourselves civilized. I was more logic than emotion because of that void, able to operate without the hindrance of sentiment, fear, or pleasure. But my Other… it was the opposite. Unrestrained bloodlust and carnal pleasure. Every immoral thought, every perverted fantasy wrapped in silken folds of degeneracy. He was the dark side of myself. After the encounter at the mill, I became whole again. All of my memories restored. For the first time in ages, I know exactly what I have to do.”
Michael’s laugh was so bitter he could taste it. “Great. That’s just great, Guy. You killed them. Drake, Fran, Rob, all of them. It was you the whole time.”
“In a way. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I just didn’t know. But everything’s changed since then. There’s only one reason why that would happen. Because this Aberration… it’s the one we’ve been waiting for. The instance that ignites the event known as the Cataclysm, which will alter the world in irrevocable ways. So if you’re going to come, do so knowing what you find may destroy you beyond repair. This won’t have a happy ending, Michael.”
“How can you be sure there will be an ending at all? You thought the last Aberration was the final one. What if you get to this one and find just another battle? Will it ever end?”
“This time is different.” Something like sadness glistened in Guy’s eyes. “It’s like a puzzle you put together without ever seeing the original picture. It’s only when the puzzle is nearly complete that you have an idea of what you’re looking at. And what we’re looking at is… cataclysmic. Brace yourself, Michael. You may just witness the literal end of this world.”
The Halifax was a great white shark of a ship, lurking in the harbor as if eager to depart for deeper waters. Michael didn’t know anything about naval vessels, but Lurch Davies was their escort, and Lurch Davies knew his naval vessels.
The hulking Corporal was shaved bald under his cap and sported thick, curved mustaches. He chomped on a cigar, squinted out of one eye, and droned on about littoral combat ships, which had since been dubbed ‘frigates’ by the military. Michael zoned out most of the details, but what he did catch was how the US government bungled the entire program when the ships were constructed, resulting in overblown budgets, furious finger pointing, and ill-equipped results.
In the end, the fiasco was carefully camouflaged under another top-heavy military budget, and most of the frigates were either downgraded or sold to the highest bidders. One such purchaser was Chimera Global, who then outfitted the combat ships with their own arsenals, upgraded the tech, and redeployed them to combat pirates, guard carriers, sweep mines, and otherwise pay for their cost in the employ of the very government that screwed up the deal in the first place.
Michael shook his head, only halfway paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to the hotel. Guy. Still can’t believe he’s actually here.
The Halifax was one of the upgraded ships, gunmetal in color and stealthy in design. It was large enough to sport a helicopter landing pad, and capable of deploying and recovering the high-speed rigid hull inflatable boat moored in its enclosed housing.
Lurch’s gravelly voice was rich with pride. “Trimaran wave piercing hull and twin MJP 550 water jets. Four MAN12 diesel engines that put out 1,800hp each. Yeah, she can run, all right. Capable of cruising at 40 knots even in rough seas.”
He pointed out the large gun affixed to the outer bridge. “That there’s a 40mm advanced Bofos cannon. We call it the mofo cannon. Knock an enemy bird outta the sky no prob. Baby’s got torpedoes and an anti-aircraft point defense system to boot.”
Michael nodded in what he hoped was an interested manner as they exited the Humvee. “You expecting trouble?” He glanced at Nathan, who emerged from the rear door with watery eyes and compressed lips, probably from enduring the cigar smoke.
“Trouble?” Lurch’s face twisted, turning his squint nearly sinister. “Can’t not count on it. Always better prepared, is how I see it.” He gave them an evaluating look. “You boys ain’t got the look of no consultants I ever saw. Look green as new turf, actually.”
Nathan responded with a solemn stare. “We work for the AIT. No surprise you don’t know about us. We’re both off-the-chart geniuses. Top minds in our fields. Intrinsic field researchers specializing in intra-dimensional theory. Don’t want to bore you with the details.”
“Well, I appreciate that.” Lurch exhaled a bluish cloud of cigar smoke and jerked a thumb at the ship. “Best get you aboard before we get wet out here. Storm’s about to break.”
The first drops had already fallen by the time they boarded. Michael squinted and shielded his eyes when a helicopter drifted down to land on the ship’s landing pad in a flurry of water droplets and rotor-generated wind. As the chopper’s blades slowly stopped and crewmen scurried to secure it, Alexander Blackwell emerged from the cabin with his usual casual-yet-elitist manner, shadowed by Sid Damon.
Lurch barked a laugh. “Looks like they’re not wasting time. You boys are this way. Not quite as fine as the top brass, but better than sleeping on deck.”
The sleeping quarters were tiny. Just enough room for a twin-sized bunk, a miniscule desk, and an equally small metal closet. One corner was sectioned off for a cramped bathroom with a toilet and minuscule shower. Large ductwork piping was threaded through the walls above their heads. The room was the awful beige color used in places like prisons and hospitals.
Michael immediately felt the air congeal, clammy and thick. The walls pressed in, ruthless in their claustrophobic aggression. Waves of panic thrummed against his chest, beating in time to the pulse of filthy darkness he felt hundreds of miles away.
“You okay?”
Michael steadied himself and nodded as Nathan squeezed past. His expression of shock and distaste was so hilarious that Michael forget his own discomfort for a second.
“Not quite the five-star suite you’re used to, right?”
Lurch stuck his head through the doorway. “Hell, boys. This here’s a junior officer’s cabin. You should see the barracks for the crew on the bottom level. Not so fine and spacious as what you got.” He clapped them on the shoulders and laughed all the way down the narrow hallway stairwell.
Nathan shook his head. “This is unacceptable. The two of us in this… hole? Not possible. I need my own quarters. My own larger quarters.”
Michael slung his duffel bag in the corner. “Well, you can take that up with Mr. Big Shot Blackwell when you see him. Meanwhile, I can’t stay here, man. Reminds me too much of my room in the loony bin.”
Nathan carefully set his luggage on the top bunk. “Yeah, let’s get topside. This place is suffocating. I can’t imagine it’s been cleaned all that well, either.”
“Looks clean to me.” Michael ignored Nathan’s incredulous stare as they stepped into the hallway. “How far is it to the Triangle?”
“Technically we’re already there.” Nathan still gazed disgustedly at the cabin, and spoke in an offhand manner. “The Bermuda Triangle is composed of everything within the area of Miami to Puerto Rico to Bermuda and back to Miami.”
“Sounds like a really great Spring Break trip to me.”