Nathan didn’t care. He couldn’t. He had no idea where he was, no idea what was happening. He sobbed as the dark figures sat him down, sobbed as they dressed in with mute efficiency. With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded with his silent captors.
“Please… I just want to be clean. You understand that, don’t you? I just want to be clean again…”
Years ago he had walked down a claustrophobic hallway, ushered by two burly policemen. He had just killed his father, still had blood on his shirt. The memory was cloudy, just a sketch drawing of a moment that should have been branded into his memory. But he had been dazed, his mind safely secluded in a safe haven where the grisly reality of his actions could not torment him. He walked in between the policemen, a boy with a shuttered mind forming an escape that would become a part of him, an automatic response to anything that evoked fear, sadness, or anger.
Once again he walked down a narrow hallway, this one illuminated from hidden lights that brightened the ceilings, walls, and floors. The brilliance was a bizarre contrast to the darkness of his silent chaperones. They were clad in stark black from their velvety tunics to their soft-soled boots. Their heads were covered by what appeared to be tight balaclava masks, modified to cover their entire faces. Nathan couldn’t understand how they could manage to see when so obviously blinded.
They’re not human. Some sort of automatons.
He was relieved at the notion. It gave him something to consider. Something to calculate. He needed the distraction. It gave his mind a task, something to occupy his attention other than his overwrought emotional state. He glanced at one, then the other. They matched his stride perfectly, whether he sped up or slowed down, always in perfect unison. Yet they never laid a hand on him, and he didn’t see any weapon equipped. He wondered what would happen if he just took off running.
Then he remembered the way they had carried him as though he were weightless. He wasn’t exactly a large man, but they were obviously much stronger than he was. Probably a lot faster, too. Just because they hadn’t shown any signs of threatening behavior didn’t mean they wouldn’t at a moment’s notice.
Better to wait it out. See what happens. Maybe they’re escorting me to where everyone else is.
He cleared his throat. “Where are you taking me?”
Neither of the shadows even glanced his direction. He guessed as much.
“Where is this place? Is it the Tantalus? Is Dr. Stein here?”
Silence.
“Are you robots?”
Silence.
“Can you talk? You can see, obviously. So, can you speak? Is that too much to ask?”
Silence.
The hall ended at a door that slid open. The two figures stopped as though some invisible barrier prevented them from continuing on. As if synchronized, they both lifted an arm and pointed toward the room beyond.
Nathan swallowed. The room was dark as a tomb.
A disembodied voice warbled from the interior. “Come in, Nathan. We don’t have much time.”
Nathan had seen photos of Dr. Franklin Nicolas Stein. They depicted him as short and stocky with disarming features, unusually jolly-looking for a man of such a cavalier repute. That rotund, cheerful man had been replaced by an emaciated waste with the weathered visage of an old owl, complete with large eyes that blinked from behind thin-framed round lasses. His slightly unruly hair and beard were colored more salt than pepper. A rumpled, formerly white lab coat of medium length covered his rudimentary outfit of shirt and slacks. He had the glassy-eyed, slightly manic stare of someone deprived of multiple nights of sleep. That was only the beginning of what worried Nathan.
The room was a cell. Just four concrete walls and the two chairs they sat in. Dr. Stein had closed the door after Nathan entered, sealing them off from the ghostly guards outside. Unlike the rest of the facility, there was no evidence of any kind of specialized design or technology. The room was entirely bare, devoid of even an electrical outlet. The only source of light was an ordinary bulb handing from the ceiling.
It’s a dead zone, Nathan realized. A nook built for getting off the grid. It made sense. If the forces behind the Aberrations were truly from another time or dimension as he suspected, there was always the risk that they would infiltrate whatever technology they encountered.
Dr. Stein blinked. “I’m sorry for the disorienting awaking. I’m sure you have many questions.”
Nathan paused as his thoughts collided. It was nearly impossible to know what to ask first. He thought of Elena, and it became easy.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Still in hibernation. I convinced the Gestalt I needed another apprentice, which is the only reason you were awakened. Unfortunately, I was only allowed to wake one of you.”
Nathan found it hard to concentrate in the stifling atmosphere. He shifted in his chair, trying not to hunch his shoulders from the sense of claustrophobia that pressed down like monster hands on his shoulders. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry… what is this? You need an apprentice? For what?”
Stein reached inside of his coat pocket and produced a small index card. A message was written in bold black marker.
THEY ARE LISTENING
He jerked his head toward the door as he continued to speak. “To be my assistant. The others are dead, unfortunately. Tried to escape. That’s the first rule you’ll have to learn. There is no escape.”
Nathan felt his muscles quiver from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Fight or flight, he realized. The sudden urge to do something, anything to escape the situation.
Stein held up another card.
FAKE STONE IN CORNER
GUN INSIDE
He pointed that direction. “I think you’ll find that if you do as you’re told, things will be easy for you. Forget what you think you know about the Aberration. Nothing is as you’ve come to understand. But if you agree to assist me with my task of preparing the Threshold, you will be rewarded as I have. Protection, Nathan. Protection from the Cataclysm to come.” He gestured again to the corner. Sweat trickled down his face. His eyes pleaded, begging Nathan to comply.
Nathan crept over to the corner. The concrete block flooring looked solid enough, but when he pressed down on the corner block, it slid upward. The interior was hollow, revealing a small handgun and a pair of two-way radios. He extracted the gun and looked at Stein, who held up another card.
KILL THE GUARDS
Nathan’s heart pounded so hard it nearly hurt. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
Stein shook his head. “Not if you want to live.”
Nathan nodded, taking a series of deep breaths. The gun trembled in his hand. Steeling himself, he kicked open the door, aiming at the guard to the right. Pulled the trigger.
Two shots in rapid succession. The sounds exploded in the hallway, unnaturally loud. The black-clad figure jerked back and fell without a sound. Nathan turned to the left. Blurred movement. A gloved hand caught his wrist, wrenched with unexpected strength. Nathan nearly screamed as pain lanced across his arm. He twisted his body with the movement, flung his other arm across the masked face of the guard, caught him by the chin and shoved backward. For a few desperate seconds they shuffled and slid across the glossy tiles.
Can’t lose. Can’t die.
He recalled his father insisting he take wrestling class in high school, where he was subjected to humiliating pin-downs that usually ended up with his face in another boy’s armpit or crushed between a pair of muscular, unrelenting legs. His only saving grace was the inside trip move, something he eventually mastered.