The Lucid: Episode Three Page 2

  He raced to his bicycle and then sped home to the apartment, again oblivious to the honking and yelling and the near misses from oncoming traffic.

  He arrived and dropped his bike on the sidewalk without locking it, then raced up the stairs to the entryway. He grew impatient with the elevator, and so ended up running up the interior stairs to their fourth-flour apartment.

  There were police there, and at first they wouldn’t let him in.

  “My Mother is in there!” he yelled. “I live here!”

  Eventually the hospice worker heard his voice and told the police who he was. They let him in, and before anyone could stop him he raced into Mother’s bedroom.

  Her body had been removed, but the blood was still everywhere.

  On the floor beside the bed was the orchid, surrounded by shards of glass. And against the wall was the tear-drop bulb and the long stem of the vase, now terminating in a sharp and jagged point, and covered in blood.

  David was about to stoop and pick it up when an officer put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “I can’t let you touch that, son,” he said.

  David whirled on him, angry. No one had called him ‘son’ in years. And this was not the time for anyone to start! He was about to tear into the officer, to really let him have it when he stopped.

  Mother’s body wasn’t here. Mother wasn’t here. And she would never be here again.

  The police pulled him back into the living room and started asking him questions. They wanted to know about their condition. Had she ever shown signs of depression? Had she ever mentioned suicide? What about her Alzheimers? How far along was she?

  David answered all of these questions and more, until the police were satisfied.

  They filled him in on the details of how she’d died.

  Apparently, between his leaving for class and the arrival of the hospice worker, she had broken the vase and used it to puncture her own carotid artery. She had bled out before the nurse had even arrived at the apartment. No note. No goodbye. Her last words had been to thank him for his gift.

  Maybe she meant the gift of release? Maybe she had been thanking him for giving her a way to end this.

  When things settled and the police left, David made arrangements for someone to come in the morning and clean up Mother’s room. He would have her things moved to storage. The important things. Everything else could go in the dumpster for all he cared.

  When he was completely alone, and sitting at his own kitchen table, he finally took out the smartphone and opened the app he had created to monitor and adjust his mother’s implants. Sure enough, there had been a spike and an alert from the sensors at the time of her death. And then, for a time, the activity had continued on. In fact, for a full hour there was neural activity, until around the time he had received the phone call, telling him Mother was dead.

  Neural activity. A full hour after her death.

  He had a digital record of his mother’s dying thoughts. He had a recording of what her mind was experiencing when her body was no longer associated with it.

  That was fascinating.

  He immediately took out his laptop and started documenting everything he had on the subject. He jotted down his own thoughts and ideas, but he also included copious data, and the conclusions he had drawn from it.

  A year or so later, he would publish about this topic. He would hide some of the specifics, but the general details would go in a paper. They would also feed his work.

  And soon that work would come to the attention of Ms. Halpern and her agency. David would be recruited to do his work while having his every need met. Once again his genius would provide.

  In all of this, too, he would come to know Ms. Halpern, who bore a striking resemblance to Mother. Not physically, of course. She was too plump, and too old, and too severe looking. But her cold and calculating intelligence was definitely the same as Mother’s.

  David found that quite fetching.

  Chapter One

  Present day

  Gone.

  Adam sat in the back of the Hummer, jostled by the quick escape over sidewalk curbs and anything else that happened to be in the way. He was gripping the vial of Sara’s blood so tightly he started to fear he would break it. He slipped it back into the small cooler, to preserve and protect it.

  They had to get it to Denver. They had to find Professor Milton, and see if he could find a cure for …

  Whatever this was.

  But they weren’t going to Denver. They were going to the Garden of the Gods.

  “We need to get to Denver,” Adam said quietly.

  No one reacted.

  “We need to get to Denver!” he shouted.

  The Humvee driver, whose name Adam didn’t yet know, glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. “I told you, we got a base in Garden of the Gods, and that’s where I’m driving. Now sit back and shut up!”

  Adam tensed, made a fist, was fully prepared to clock the driver in the back of the head, when Jeff put a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t you think we’ll stand a better chance if we can regroup? Your family … Adam, I’m sorry man. But I gotta think they’d want you to survive first.”

  “If we don’t get these vials to Doctor Milton in time, the blood may be useless,” Adam said.

  “If they’re not already spoiled,” the driver said.

  And again Adam started for him, with Jeff holding him back.

  “Calm the hell down!” Jeff said. “Your family wouldn’t want this!”

  Adam was about to reply when some colder, more reasoning part of his brain kicked in. Because despite the grief and rage that Adam was feeling, he knew wisdom when he heard it. If he had any chance of ending this horror and avenging his family, he was going to need help. And right now, these two were the only help he had.

  He settled back, taking deep breaths, and thought of Sara. Of Sammie and Charlie. Of Kate.

  Judging by the state of the world around them as the sped away from the hospital, dodging UVF’s and human patrols, the world wasn’t in good shape. It was on the brink. But for Adam, the world had already ended.

  “Heads up,” the driver said. He was studying the side mirror. “We’re being followed.”

  —

  Jocelyn Wu ducked through the door of her lab and raced down the corridor to the closest exit. She heard the tat-tat-tat of semi-automatic gunfire, and hesitated.

  This was not what she’d signed on for.

  In fact, ever since Ms. Halpern had recruited her away from the World Health Organization, none of this had been what she’d signed up for. She thought she was helping to save the world, but based on what she’d uncovered from David Priseman’s files, she might just have aided in enslaving it.

  She backtracked from the exit. If there was a gunfight going on out there, it was the last place she wanted to be.

  Picking her way back through the hospital corridors, she found herself stepping over the bodies of soldiers and patients alike. She felt like throwing up.

  The blood and gore didn’t bother her—she was a trained medical professional. It was the blatant waste of human life that got to her. So many people, with so much potential. And it was all just snuffed out in an instant, with just an ounce of lead.

  Jocelyn hurried along, keeping low, hoping that no one spotted her and started shooting.

  She reached another exit, and this time it sounded as if the gunfire had died down. At least, from her position, about fifteen feet from the door, all was quiet.

  And then there was a sudden series of shots, followed by a very loud explosion.

  The glass on some of the windows lining the hall burst inward, and Jocelyn covered her face with her arms. She was still some distance from the windows and the door, but shards of glass still managed to reach her, taking tiny knicks from her forearms. She glanced through the open window frames and saw soldiers dodging back behind one of the wings of the hospital. A helicopter had exploded, and the wreckage sat in a flaming
lump on the helipad.

  Jocelyn screamed, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It was just … well, everything about this made her feel like screaming, like running and hiding, like burying herself somewhere safe.

  She started to turn and run back down the corridor, but saw some of the soldiers run through a cross-section.

  The last thing she wanted was to be swept back into this mess. She wasn’t a prisoner here, but lately she’d started to feel like one. As David had brought in more and more Suppressed military and police officers, Jocelyn had started to feel that her movements were being limited. She started to think that she should make every effort to escape.

  She turned and ran out of the door, into the parking lot where the helicopter sat smoldering and the gunfire tatted in echoes among the buildings and parked cars.

  Near the exit was a Jeep, its engine running but no one nearby. It was military, for certain. There were containers in the back that she recognized, but had never seen opened. And there were rifles. She couldn’t fire one if her life depended on it—a statement that might come to truth at some point soon.

  Swallowing her rising panic, Jocelyn climbed behind the wheel of the jeep and slammed the little half door shut.

  She looked at the center console and despaired.

  It was a stick shift.

  She’d only attempted to drive stick once in her life, when she and some friends had gone to the beach in her boyfriend’s small pickup truck. She had told him that she would love to learn—a lie she would come to completely regret.

  For his part, he’d been all too obliging.

  They had started on a flat, sandy road that ran parallel to the beach, and everything seemed smooth enough. She had stalled the truck a couple of times, taking her foot off of the clutch too fast. But after the fourth try she’d managed to get going, and soon they were moving along at a good clip.

  Too fast, it turned out. Because suddenly, ahead of them, the sandy road dipped into a trench that had been formed by washouts and overly-enthusiastic drivers in off-road vehicles.

  Jocelyn had panicked, and hit the clutch instead of the brake. She corrected herself almost instantly, but it was too late. The truck slammed into the bottom of the little ravine, and Jocelyn and her boyfriend were slammed forward, caught on their seat belts. There hadn’t been airbags in her boyfriend’s old clunker of a pickup, and they were lucky to have gotten off with only some scrapes and a couple of bruised ribs.

  But the whole experience had soured her for learning to drive stick. And now she might get shot because of her ignorance.

  She took a deep breath, calmed herself, and pushed in the clutch. She ground the stick into first gear, then eased up slowly. And in an instant she was moving.

  She only lurched a couple of times, but soon enough she was moving along at a decent speed. She dodged the cars and the helicopter, and ended up squealing her way out onto the street, on the side opposite the entrance of the hospital.

  She was deciding where to go next when she spotted someone she recognized.

  Adam Bolland.

  She’d never met him personally, but she recognized him from countless videos and photos. He’d been a patient. A study subject, really. He and his family had been brought in by David’s mercenaries. In fact, his daughter Sara …

  Jocelyn took a deep breath and swallowed. She felt her eyes stinging. The girl, Sara, had been an innocent in all of this.

  She watched Adam climb into a Humvee, which then raced away from the fight. Soldiers were firing on it, and so Jocelyn turned down a side street to avoid getting into the crossfire.

  Before she was out of site, however, she caught a glimpse of something strange. A large, gleaming sphere hovered into the area, with twin turrets trained on the Humvee. These spun up, and bursts of gunfire overpowered everything with light and noise and acrid smoke.

  Jocelyn screamed again, though none of the gunfire was aimed at her. She punched the clutch, downshifted, and then sped away as quickly as possible. She didn’t even have time to feel proud that she hadn’t stalled the Jeep.

  As she raced away she saw a UVF up ahead, and instantly turned down a side street, tires squealing as she skidded and then righted herself. She wasn’t certain the UVF’s would try to stop her, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She regretted ever coming to this God-forsaken town, and she’d be damned if she would take any chances that might keep her here.

  She made another series of turns, always away from the hospital, always avoiding any patrols. Eventually she came to a main thoroughfare, and she felt like she could relax a bit.

  Up ahead, as if by a miracle, she saw the Humvee in which Adam Boland was a passenger.

  She had the sudden urge to follow wherever they were going.

  Why not? she asked herself. She had nowhere else to go, and at least they seemed to be moving in a definite direction.

  She fell in behind them, and concentrated on keeping the wheels straight. Wherever they ended up, she was sure it would be better than where they’d left.

  Chapter Two

  “Weapons ready,” the Humvee driver said.

  “Carl,” Jeff said. “I’m the only one with a weapon back here. I don’t think we’re in any shape for a firefight.”

  The driver—Carl—sneered in the mirror. “We can’t let them follow us back to basecamp,” he said.

  Adam was looking back now, peering through the glass of the Hummer’s rear hatch. He saw the Jeep as it raced to catch up to them. He felt his blood pressure spike. If they wanted a fight, he was more than willing to give it to them.

  “Pull over,” he said to Carl.

  Carl was all too happy to oblige.

  “I hope you two know what you’re doing,” Jeff said.

  Carl reached over and grabbed something from the seat beside him. He handed Adam a handgun. “Know how to use this?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. He pulled the slide and checked. There was a round in the chamber. He thumbed the safety and nodded to Carl.

  The Humvee pulled over, and each of them stepped out, weapons raised.

  The Jeep suddenly screeched to a halt, about twenty yards from their position.

  “Don’t shoot!” a woman’s voice shouted.

  Adam was crouched beside the rear bumper of the Hummer, and had the handgun raised and aimed at the driver-side windshield of the Jeep.

  Carl and Jeff were both on the other side, out of Adam’s line of sight.

  “Identify yourself!” Carl shouted.

  “I’m … I’m Doctor Jocelyn Wu!” the woman said. “I’m … with the WHO. The World Health Organization!”

  “She’s one of them!” Carl growled.

  “Wait!” Adam said. “She’s a doctor, not a solider!”

  “He’s right,” Jeff said. “We could use a doctor.”

  Carl grumbled something, then shouted, “Why are you following us?”

  The woman behind the wheel of the Jeep had her hands high in the air. “I need help!” she shouted back. “I needed to get away from that place.”

  “Away from who?” Adam asked.

  “From David Priseman!”

  Adam heard the name, and had a brief flash of rage. Then he stood, lowered his weapon, and walked straight toward the Jeep.

  “Adam!” Jeff shouted. “What are you doing?”

  Adam didn’t answer, but instead kept waiting until he was standing beside the driver-side door.

  Jocelyn Wu was a little older than he was, but she still had a youthful appearance. She was attractive—fit and thin, with straight dark hair that might have just grazed her shoulders if it wasn’t tied in a ponytail.

  “She’s harmless,” Adam said, loud enough that the two men could hear.

  He glanced into the back of the Jeep, then said, “And she’s brought some things that might come in handy.”

  Jeff and Carl both came forward then, and Carl inspected the contents of the Jeep. “Holy shit,” he said. “there’s enough ammo and gr
enades in here to take down a small country.”

  “Should we load it into the Humvee?” Jeff asked.

  “Just take the Jeep,” Adam said.

  “He’s right,” Carl agreed. “Jeff, drive the jeep and follow us. Ma’am,” Carl said, though his tone didn’t sound quite as respectful as the word would have implied. “You’ll be riding with us. In the front seat, where I can keep an eye on you, and my new friend Adam here can keep a gun on you.”

  “I swear, I’m not trying to …”

  “You’re going to say you’re not trying to cause any trouble,” Carl said, smiling. His eyes, however, were hard as agates. “And I believe you, Doctor. But I don’t trust you. Not yet. So get in.”

  Jocelyn didn’t respond, but instead climbed into the Humvee’s front passenger seat.

  Adam had watched all of this and wondered. Why would Carl trust him but not the doctor? Was it just because he’d been a captive alongside Jeff and the others?

  He decide the didn’t care.

  With Jocelyn with them—an actual doctor who had even worked in the facility that had been studying them—maybe he wouldn’t have to get the blood samples to Dr. Menton after all.

  As Adam climbed into the Humvee and Jeff took over with the Jeep, they sped away again, avoiding more patrols and more obstacles, until they eventually made their way into more rugged-looking terrain.

  Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the basecamp in the Garden of the Gods.

  Chapter Three

  David settled the combat sphere into its cradle, and disengaged from it. The sphere was sprayed with antibacterial foam, which dissolved after a few seconds of contact with the air, and a set of metal arms descended, lifting David and moving him from the sphere’s controls to the control room of the mobile command unit. The whole process happened within the confines of the MCU, safe from outside infections and dangers.

  The sphere had been a partial success. It had the mobility and maneuverability David needed for combat, and the electromagnetic field it used for hovering and movement also added a layer of invisible protection. It had stopped bullets, at least.