RATH - Desperation Page 5

  As Chloe shuffled her feet in the snow and repositioned herself to begin her second assault on the gargantuan iron twins blocking her from her mother, the door to her right burst open, nearly upending her in the process. Three silhouetted figures, two of which were female rushed out into the cold, scooped her up and pulled her into the void. Chloe’s voice echoed from the opening as they rushed her inside, something incomprehensible, although he heard his name more than once.

  The male silhouette paused, looked out over the landscape and turned back, closing the doors behind him.

  . . .

  How far off were the incensed Andros and why hadn’t they made their presence known? For as much as they enjoyed human flesh and physical brutality, their only real gratification came from the mental torture they inflicted on would-be victims. They made a show of their dominance and typically only killed their prey after they tired of the chase. Rath had seen this ritual play out hundreds of times in the last thirty years and the next few minutes he feared would be his last.

  Ten full minutes had passed since the doors were closed and with the many attempts to free his leg ending in failure, his calf had swollen to twice its size. As time continued on, he was able to block the pain, although not the footfalls coming from behind and growing closer with each minute. Laying the side of his head against the hillside, he was able to make out the fact that four individuals were locked in a path toward him… for Andros, they were more agile and stepped lighter than he’d remembered.

  This was it. Less than ten seconds from Sarah and this is where he would die. On the same vacant hillside he killed that man twenty-two years ago. The man who also murdered his father and most certainly was under orders to do the same to him.

  As he awaited death, he pictured Chloe in her mother’s arms and the fact that he helped reunite the pair. He knew it couldn’t make up for everything he’d done in his forty years on this planet, although this new world was different and it made those that survived different as well.

  Sarah… he knew she’d become as mentally strong as anyone he’d ever known, and for every regret he’d shoved into the pit of his stomach, he simply prayed that she’d come to know that he tried. Tried to get back to her and although he didn’t make it, she was in his final thoughts. Her smile, her scent and most of all the way she loved him and made sure he knew it. That would carry him through what came next… it had to.

  They were on him now. He closed his eyes and pictured his wife’s face and told her he loved her. The pain he feared as they moved in seemed to dissolve into confusion as the largest of the three boulders pinning him to the hillside slid away and the rush of blood back into his left foot nearly relieved him of consciousness.

  Blinking through the flickering stars clouding his vision, he recognized these men not to be the enraged group of Andros who’d followed him through the narrow stone corridor, but someone much different. Simple neutral colors and working furiously to free him, these were assuredly also not the men in black from farther down the mountain. They had a familiar way about them, moving quickly and efficiently, they shuttled him up the remaining six feet and onto the landing, near the rear entrance to The Patch.

  One of the men scampered to the steel doors, tapped three times with what looked like a prototype stun baton and after stepping away, they parted. Rath massaged his left calf, pulling at his pant leg as his backpack was ripped away. He was lifted to his feet and dragged to the entrance.

  A somewhat familiar face emerged from the shadows afforded by the darkened concrete tunnel, although his name, place in time and significance were unknown. Converging at the threshold, he stood only inches away.

  “Benjamin Rath… you should have never returned.”

  11

  Her dreams were more vivid and realistic than at any time she could remember. The colors much like the time before the fall and upon waking, she’d simply stare into the drab grey walls that had become her personal prison and talk to him. Over the hours and days Sarah spent in seclusion, she’d begun to speak to her husband aloud. The sound of her own voice speaking the words meant for him, pulled her from this reality and kept her fighting for the day he’d find her.

  “Rath, I miss you... I miss you terribly and although these people haven’t hurt me, I believe they will. I don’t know where you are and I’m sure you have no idea where this place is, or that this prison we’re being held in even exists. I can’t tell you how scared I am, not scared of what these people are going to do to me, that doesn’t matter. I’m scared that I will die here without ever seeing your face again. Please come back to me. Something big is getting ready to happen, I don’t know what, but I fear it will take me further from you… I need you. I love you.”

  The familiar rap as his boots thundered against the hollow metal staircase announced the forthcoming lunch break. In the last day, they’d brought two new residents to the lower level Sarah occupied alone since arriving. She knew the process for food breaks and with only two minutes before her door would open; she moved to the far wall, put her hands behind her back and stared straight at the floor. Their instructions were easy enough to follow, and if doing so meant she’d still be alive when he got back to her, she was more than willing.

  As the locks disengaged and the door opened, he was back. The designated security guard for this, the lowest level of this facility, stood in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. He cut his eyes at Sarah and back at the hallway. “Let’s go.”

  Stepping out of her concrete box and into the hall, she again detected the slightest hint of humanity in the way he looked at her. It wasn’t anything he said or even a passing smile. She got the sense that although he was here to do a job, there was something decent beneath the rough exterior, something sympathetic… or was this simply an imagined sentiment to further her own empty disillusion that somehow, someway she’d be free of this hell before they killed her?

  Sarah fell into line with the others and they took the stairs one floor at a time, stopping at each landing for the guard to wave them up to the next floor. Five levels up and they waited while the guard opened the door and let them into the feeding area. Her legs burned from inactivity and she felt weak from the lack of anything resembling real food.

  They only offered two meals per day and were served from an enormous stainless steel mug, which she estimated to be thirty to forty ounces of some sort of protein and complex carbohydrate blend. Warm and lumpy, most had a difficult time even finishing the contents of the mug before being escorted back to their rooms. She knew better than to turn away anything that would get her through another day, so she put her head down, finished the atrocious concoction and waited for instructions… which had become routine. Stand. Walk to the door. Back to your room.

  No calories in her body since the evening before and her stomach already growling, she was surprised upon entering the half-filled room. This is new, she thought. Plates, spoons and something resembling actual food, set next to folded napkins and glasses of water. Sarah sat and reached for the spoon as did three others. They were shut down before they took their first bite.

  “Listen up,” the guard said. “I don’t think we need to remind you of the instructions you were given upon arriving at this facility. As you can see, there are quite a few less residents in this room today. If you forget your instructions, you will find out why. You are free to eat.”

  The food wasn’t half bad, although she wondered why the change in routine. People like this only made changes when something went wrong or if their hands were forced. Neither option sounded like it was going to work out well for her or the others.

  Stopping half way through her meal to take a breath, she looked up where the guard was standing only moments ago to reveal her second surprise. Lauren sat across the room, at the opposite side of the table staring directly at her, not a stich of food removed from her plate. Obviously sleep deprived and malnourished, the young mother looked as close to death as anyone Sarah had ever seen.


  Back to the guard, who appeared preoccupied with the snag he’d found on his right index finger, Sarah turned her gaze back to Lauren and mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  Dead eyes… No response.

  Maintaining eye contact, Sarah scooped a large helping of food onto her spoon and guided it slowly to her mouth in an awkward attempt to have Lauren mimic her. She continued this routine until her meal was nearly finished and the guard began to take notice. Assured the other guards were focused elsewhere; the guard cautiously shook his head while looking at the polished concrete floors. She knew better and appreciated the leniency, and the fact that he hadn’t alerted his buddies.

  Back to Lauren, her greyed out sockets and bloodshot eyes forced several tears down her expressionless face as she slid her plate to the edge of the table. Sarah closed her eyes as the plate made contact with the floor, the food shooting in every direction and the two guards nearest her table took notice.

  Including herself and Lauren, and other than the guards, only nine souls remained in the room. This was down from eleven yesterday and although Sarah desperately wanted to understand her situation, so far not questioning her circumstances, was proving to be at least a small part of the reason she was able to count herself among the living.

  Incomprehensible shouting and the vibrations of fast footsteps moving from behind and to the side forced Sarah to lift her chin and open her eyes. Two guards rapidly closing in, one from the left and the other on the right, the third still motionless in the corner. Lauren made it to her feet and leapt over the fiberglass table like a spring loaded jack-in-the-box. Her eyes darting side to side, she also made short work of the second and third row of tables before they were able to catch her and slow her pace.

  Moving in a straight line toward Sarah and unaware the guards were closing in, Lauren started over the last table, extended both arms and was immediately detained by the first man to reach her. He forced her left arm around and into her lower back. As he reached for her right wrist, Lauren rotated a half turn and broke free.

  As the second guard moved in, Lauren began to wildly swing both arms in his direction and made contact multiple times. With no weight behind the strikes, he was able to force her back a few steps and tackled her to the ground. She continued to fight as they picked her up and moved toward the door.

  Sarah was on her feet before she realized the words exploding from her mouth. “LAUREN!” Everyone’s attention shifting to Sarah, including Lauren who now looked as if she’d finally understood the gravity of her situation.

  Bringing her voice down to nearly a whisper, Sarah continued. “You need to realize that if you continue, these men are going to kill you and you will never again see your little girl. It’s really just that simple. Keep to yourself and stay quiet. Do this for Chloe.”

  The last guard, standing alone at the back of room, continued to shake his head. Sarah moved back to the bench, pushed her plate to the side and sat with her arms folded as the other two men pulled Lauren out of the room and down the hall.

  Silence once again ruled.

  12

  He was being walked. Not dragged, not pushed or led… but walked. A man in front, one on each side and one behind. Even in his weakened state, Rath was sure he could take all four of them, although his leg still throbbed and his shoulder was questionable. After being given his pack and five minutes to rest, they assured him the girl was safe and asked him to follow. This was the last time anyone had spoken to him and he thought better than to ask any questions just yet. He was sure he’d have the opportunity, although for now he was satisfied knowing that he and Sarah were so close, the details he’d have to figure out once he knew where they were taking him.

  The damp smell that occupied the concrete tunnel began to dissipate at the same rate light poured in. Two separate archways led into the north and the west terminals. The massive twin warehouses were mostly as he remembered. Sixty feet, floor to ceiling, each measuring just shy of three hundred fifty thousand square feet, they were built to house everything needed to sustain life inside the Mountain for well over a hundred years. With only thirty-two years having passed since the fall and both spaces near empty, Rath assumed a colossal miscalculation must have been made.

  In through Terminal One to the north, Rath followed the man pacing three steps ahead and nearly tripped over his own feet as it became clear what he was looking at. Almost completely camouflaged by the charcoal grey concrete backdrop sat the massive transport drone he last saw the afternoon Sarah was taken. Both hands balled into fists, he quickened his stride and started for the man to his left, only to be reminded of the fact that he was now a prisoner, not a resident.

  “We can toss you back out on that trail and let the Andros have their way with you… just give the word.”

  He spoke to himself. Keep your eyes open and figure this out. They’ve got to have them locked away somewhere, find their weakness. So far he hadn’t noticed one and the lack of human existence within the Mountain was disconcerting. Once home to twenty-five hundred, today he hadn’t seen more than a handful of residents and none of them appeared to be dressed head to toe in black.

  Exiting the massive space, the group marched down a familiar hallway and past the titanic suite occupied by Emerson Boothe. Overhead lighting along the corridor, as poor as it was, shadowed the glass doors and revealed it to also be as empty as the rest of the structure. Stainless steel frames still bolted to the walls now hung empty, Emerson Boothe’s historic masterpieces inexplicably absent.

  Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and the engrossed copy of the Declaration of Independence… now all eradicated from the area. Boothe’s first order of business once the superstructure was completed and the Mountain secured, was to bring every last piece of historical art to The Patch for safe keeping, or so he said. Nine months after the fall, he’d brought together so many of the world’s costliest treasures that this area was on permanent lockdown. Today it appeared to be open to the public. Obviously Boothe relocated elsewhere inside the structure and decided to take his prized possessions along.

  Another two hundred feet and the group stopped at the door he’d walked through hundreds of times as a resident of The Patch. These men not only appeared to know every detail of his past life, they seemed to be throwing it in his face. Key in the lock, the door open and the leader pointed inside. Rath walked in, set his pack on the ground next to the lone piece of furniture and sat down.

  . . .

  The lights flickered on and off multiple times as he lay on the metal framed bed. After thirty minutes, the pressure began to subside along his aching calf muscle. He sat forward, crossed the room and as he reached for the door handle, his right shoulder reminded him of what it took to get here. He grasped the handle, gave it a tug and confirmed what he already knew. Locked from the outside.

  Moving back to the bed, a key entered the lock, the handle moved and the door swung open. Once again the familiar face who’d greeted Rath as he entered the facility moved from the hall and into the room alone. This man at least ten years his junior, matched Rath in every way. Both were a few inches past six feet and carried roughly the same proportions. Rath chuckled at the similarities. This was him ten years ago, and Rath knew he was no match for himself at thirty years old.

  Assured the door was locked behind him; the man turned to Rath and smiled. “Benjamin… I’m sure you don’t remember me, but—”

  “I prefer to be called—”

  “Listen, I don’t really have an interest in any of your preferences and if it were up to me, we’d have let you die out on the Mountain.”

  “The girl… Chloe, is she alright?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “And my wife, where are you keeping her?” Rath took a step forward.

  “Your wife… why would I have any information on your wife?” He genuinely looked confused and as if Rath had derailed his train of thought. “You have no idea what has gone on here, do you?”

  “I’m
pretty sure you’re about to fill me in.”

  “Not completely, that’s way above my pay grade. You’ll get what you need when the time comes. For now it’s just you and I.”

  “Perfect, and who exactly are you, besides the welcome wagon?”

  The younger man looked away. “We’ve met, you just don’t remember, although I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

  “I doubt it; I put this place behind me the day I walked out.”

  “Twenty-two years ago, my father was murdered in just about the same spot we found you today. You didn’t walk out that back door, you were thrown out. After all this time, I still remember your face and more importantly your name. You killed him… you killed my father.”