Authors: Ken Goddard
“But let me emphasize that the emergency power cut-off is definitely not the preferred method of shutting down an extremely sensitive multi-million-dollar instrument such as an MRI,” Marcini went on firmly, “so please be absolutely sure about what’s happening in that room before you start pounding on red buttons and then running in with guns blazing, okay? You wouldn’t believe what it cost to RF-Shield this entire MRI Laboratory Complex. The MRI Room, the central Console Room and the adjoining fMRI Room are all completely encased in contiguous layers of copper foil, and the two Window Walls of the Central Console Room are made up of carefully-aligned double panes of extremely fine glazed copper mesh. Any penetration of those materials — any penetration
at all
that results in a discontinuity — will negate our ability to shield out interfering radio frequencies and completely shut down this laboratory.”
“Probably an expensive repair job,” Sutta noted.
“Unthinkably expensive,” Marcini agreed. “I’m sure they’d have to start over by tearing down the building and constructing a brand new complex.”
“Probably take it out of your paycheck, too,” MacGregor said to Harthburn, grinning.
“Roger that, too,” Harthburn muttered.
“Relax, Harthburn, you’re not going to have to worry about having your pay docked for the rest of your life,” Cellars said calmly, “for the simple reason that you’re not going to be anywhere near this laboratory if the shit hits the fan.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re not … and that’s because you’re going be at your headquarters building, or the post administration building — or wherever it is you guys keep the computers that can access Army fingerprint data bases — trying to see if you can figure out who this guy really is,” Cellars said, handing Harthburn one of the five nine-by-twelve-inch sealed manila envelopes in his hand.
“Hey, I’m good to go with that deal,” Harthburn said, looking decidedly more cheery now as he opened the manila envelope and pulled out the set of prints and the digitally-printed frontal and profile photos that Sutta had brought from the Morgue. “So what AKA do we have for this dude?”
“The name he went by was Jeremiah Carter — he was the old and smelly dead guy I left in MacGregor’s Humvee for a while — except we’re pretty sure that’s not his real name,” Cellars said.
“Hey, man, what you did to that Humvee is not a topic you want to be bringing up around here … uh, sir,” Harthburn warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I was the one who had to drive that damned vehicle back to the base ‘cause Mac was still out cold. God, talk about a rotten smell.”
“Again, my apologies for being an asshole,” Cellars said, “but I think this Jeremiah character may be one of yours … and if he is, that’s going to be an extremely important piece of information.”
“What do mean by ‘ours’?” MacGregor demanded.
“He claimed to be a disabled vet,” Cellars said. “Listen, guys, we could stand here for an hour going into all the gory details of why and how, but I really think we need to start scanning this bitch’s skull while she’s still dead.”
* * *
Cellars waited until Sutta, Marcini and MacGregor had rolled the cart with Allesandra into the MRI room and locked the door with a loud ‘CLICK’ before he walked over to the desk … placed the four sealed manila envelopes, the Mini Stun Baton® and his loaded and cocked Sig Sauer onto the mostly bare wood surface ... then sat down, turned on the split MRI/Console Room flat-screen monitor, leaned forward into the microphone, and pressed the mike switch.
“This is Cellars. Can you folks in there hear me okay?” he asked.
“Hearing you just fine.”
Sutta — his voice sounding a little on edge through the overhead speaker, but otherwise fine, Cellars decided.
“Okay, acknowledging that I can hear you fine also … and I can also see all of three of you apparently moving the bitch and her stretcher over onto some kind of long and skinny platform in front of a big metal donut, so have fun. I’m going to be busy reading. Yell out if something interesting happens.”
“Copy that, sir.”
MacGregor — sounding very much on edge, but also confident that he had the situation under control. Classic cop attitude.
Cellars smiled as he reached for the first manila envelope.
The first report was titled ‘PROJECT CASTAWAY – CASE SUMMARY.’ It consisted of twenty-two single-spaced typed pages that listed the names and general descriptions of fifty-one individuals who had gone missing in the greater Jasper County area of OSP Region Nine under similar circumstances, along with the date, location and circumstances of when and where they were last seen.
As the title suggested, the report was of a summary nature, with little substantive information that would have assisted the senior investigator in making any connections between the missing individuals … and a lot of blank spots where even the summary details weren’t there.
He quickly scanned through the names and descriptions — checking the monitor and concentrating on the minimal conversation in first the MRI room and then the Console Room every minute or two as he did so — and then set the report aside and reached for the second sealed envelope.
The first report in this envelope — the one labeled ‘OSP-9-00-6666’ — was a lot more interesting … one, because Cellars recognized his style of writing … and two, because he found it extremely difficult to believe what he was reading.
The MRI Unit in the Scanning Room started grinding loudly when he was halfway through the addendum report … making it difficult for him to hear any conversation going on in the adjacent Console Room.
Shit, didn’t think about that.
Cellars quickly glanced at the split monitor screen, saw that everything seemed normal — Sutta and Marcini were both wearing white lab coats and sitting in front of a complex-looking instrument panel in the middle of the Console Room facing the MRI Unit through the Window Wall, MacGregor standing directly behind them — and the platform bearing Allesandra’s prone stretcher-strapped body was now stuck head-first into a device that looked like a huge, upright metal donut. Understandably, from Cellars point-of-view, all three members of the Console Room team were now wearing ear-protectors.
Okay, everything looks fine in there
, Cellars told himself, and started in to read his stunning addendum report again.
But as incredulous as the graphic statements in the report were, he quickly discovered that he couldn’t concentrate now … because he kept glancing over at the monitor every five seconds or so.
Jeese, this isn’t going to work
— Cellars started to tell himself, tossing the ‘A’ report back onto the desk surface in frustration, when the loud grinding noise from the MRI room suddenly shut off … and then, five seconds later, started up again, only this time seemingly louder.
Another quick glance at the monitor — Sutta, Marcini and MacGregor were in their same positions — told Cellars that everything seemed to be proceeding as expected. He picked up the report again, but found it impossible to concentrate now.
Man, who would want to do this kind of thing for a —?
“HEY, SHE’S STARTING TO MOVE!"
MacGregor’s voice, barely audible over the MRI grinding sounds.
Cellars snapped his head around and stared intensely at the split monitor screen. He couldn’t see anything happening around the MRI donut … but something had to be going on because Sutta and Marcini were suddenly making frantic movements at the instrument panel while MacGregor was standing at the framed Window-Wall door connected the Console and MRI Scanning Rooms with something that looked like a wooden broomstick in his hands.
Cellars started to reach for the red button behind his desk, his eyes glued to the monitor now … but then he hesitated because Marcini and Sutta seemed to be —
“WHAT THE HELL? SHE’S … OH SHIT, SHE’S CUTTING —!”
MacGregor again, first sounding startled … and then disbelieving.
“CELLARS! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!”
Sutta’s voice, sounding panicked.
“
COWBOY!”
Cellars slammed the palm of his hand into the glowing red button, grabbed the Sig, and lunged for the MRI room door … vaguely aware that the grinding noise had rattled to a sudden stop as he reached for the door latch with his left hand … twisted it … slammed the door open with his shoulder … lunged into the room … saw MacGregor in the Scanning Room now, falling backwards and holding half of the now-severed broomstick in each upraised hand … and then saw the creature — that was no longer even remotely Allesandra, much less human — crouching over MacGregor and bringing what should have been her right arm and hand back for a second strike … except that her right hand was now long and glistening and visibly sharp …
Double-tap … heart and head … now!
Except that Cellars didn’t double-tap. He instinctively fired three semi-jacketed and hollow-pointed bullets into the creature’s center-of-mass, then raised his aim-point and continued to trigger round after concussive round into the head of the creature until he finally realized that the head — and the creature itself — was no longer there.
Stunned and deafened by the terribly-loud detonations inside the shielded room, Cellars never heard — or even saw — the tiny stone clatter to the floor of the MRI room and then roll forward to a stop against Sergeant First Class MacGregor’s sprawled legs.
CHAPTER 26
It was Lisa Marcini — sprawled out on the Console Room floor and staring wide-eyed first at Cellars, who was still standing in a crouched position in the Scanning Room with the smoking semi- automatic pistol clutched in both hands … secondly, at the shattered Window Wall … thirdly, at the sparks and smoke pouring out of her computerized MRI console … and then finally back at Cellars again — who snapped out of it first.
Uttering a heartfelt curse, she lunged to her feet, slammed her palm against the blue ‘CONSOLE POWER SHUT-OFF’ button mounted on the wall next to the now-brightly-flashing red ‘MRI POWER SHUT-OFF’ button … grabbed a nearby electrical fire extinguisher … unlatched the console panel door … emptied the billowing white contents of the extinguisher into the sparking electronic bowels of the console … tossed the empty extinguisher aside … turned to stare at the shattered Window Wall shield for in wide-eyed disbelief for a few seconds … then walked slowly through the open door to the Scanning Room and stopped in front of Cellars, who had recovered sufficiently to straighten up into a standing position, reload and then re-holster his pistol.
Cocking her head, Marcini stared into Cellars’ blinking and glassy eyes for a long moment, then put her left palm against his chest, rose up on the toes of her boots, and gently kissed his left cheek.
“That’s for coming to the rescue, and saving us from that … nightmare, Cowboy,” she whispered, staring at him again with her dark glistening eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he managed to rasp, his eyes still blinking in delayed shock.
“And this … is for shooting the crap out of my MRI Laboratory, ” she snarled, balling up her fist and catching Cellars with a sharp right roundhouse to that same left cheek that sent him staggering backwards.
“Hey, that wasn’t nice,” MacGregor — still lying on his back, pale-faced and shaky, with the severed ends of the broom stick clutched in his hands — protested weakly.
“No, it wasn’t,” Marcini agreed, spinning around and glaring down at the MP who seemed to be slowly coming out of deep shock. “And while we’re on the topic of not being nice …”
She stared down at the crotch of MacGregor’s fatigues for a brief moment, looking like she was deciding whether or not to kick him square in the balls … then suddenly dropped down to her knees and right between his … slapped the back of her left hand forward against the stretched cloth of MacGregor’s crotch — causing the stunned MP to wince and try to pull himself as far back against the wall as he could go, which wasn’t very far — then reached down with her right hand and picked up the small stone nestling between his thighs that still felt warm to the touch.
She held the stone in the palm of her hand and stared at it for a long moment, oblivious to the effect her close proximity was clearly having on MacGregor, then finally stood up and walked over to Cellars — who had been joined by a visibly-shell-shocked Sutta — holding the stone out in her open hand for both men to see.
“Would either of you men care to explain
this
to me?” She asked, her voice not demanding so much as daring them not to answer.
“She’s a shadow,” Cellars replied in what he thought was an amazingly calm voice, considering the fact that his mind and vocal cords were still trying to make the proper connections, “just like all the others.”
“A shadow?” Marcini stared at him blankly. “Are you trying to tell me that’s
all
that blade-slicing bitch-nightmare was — just a fucking
shadow
?”
“No, it’s the other way around … it has to be,” Cellars said, shaking his head slowly, as if he wasn’t quite ready to accept his own conclusions. “That shadow I shot at last night … and the other two that slammed into the hearse and my SUV just before we got here … and all the other ones that my unofficial but supposedly accurate CSI report says I shot at last week, before I was hurt and lost my memories … they’re all just like her.”
“You’re saying there’s more of these creatures wandering around out there —” Sutta made a vague gesture at the outside world with his shaky right hand, “— as we’re speaking?”