Ghost Guard 2: Agents of Injustice (23 page)

“When I embarked upon this exotic endeavor, my initial goal was to discover and identify the connection between body and soul. Long story short, I exceeded expectations. Do you understand what this means? Do you even begin to understand?”

Abby tried not to show it, but what she did get out of it was a horrifying image. Experimentation, savage and brutal. Her whole life, her whole career, everything she knew, was wrapped up in this world. Ghosts, sorcerers, immortals, and even demonic entities. None of it fazed her. None of it was new. Yet for some reason this whole lab experiment thing made her skin crawl. There was something beyond what the man was explaining.

“You wouldn’t be hiding anything from me, would you?” she raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure if she was still in character as Lieutenant Fredrickson or if she was now Abby Rhoads.

The man, who Abby secretly dubbed Doctor Ghoulish, contorted his face into an expression of extreme confusion. He was measuring her response for his own response, calculating carefully and considering her rank. In the end he realized he could not hide anything from the savvy young officer. His shoulders lowered and his chin sank.

“You can see right through me, can’t you? I should’ve never thought that I could hide this. But, you see, it’s just so miraculous and revolutionary. I must warn you, it is a bit unnerving.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you. Now, what the hell is going on here?”

“I warn you, Lieutenant. This is a highly unnatural experiment. I cannot be held responsible for any mental or psychological damage that might occur to you as a result of—”

“Just get on with it, dammit!”

He jerked at her terse command. Obviously he had great respect for authority even though he was serious about the fact that this experiment and his findings were highly anomalous. Just what type of an anomaly, and just how severe, Abby was about to find out.

Abby watched as the grotesque researcher administered a lethal dose of microwave energy to a poor creature on a nearby table. She knew it was of unnatural origin immediately. It resembled a pig, but it was no pig. It was an animal created in a lab for the sole purpose of being murdered.

The shock sent the creature into involuntary spasms. Abby saw the appendages twist unnaturally backwards and upwards. She knew right then and there the thing was dead or dying.

“Don’t let the death pangs bother you, Lieutenant. It’s a common reaction. There is nothing we can do to alleviate it. I assure you the death is quick and relatively painless. It is necessary in order for a proper transplantation.”

“Transplantation?” The word sent shivers down Abby’s spine. “Exactly what are you talking about?”

“Watch,” he continued with his terrible task by unveiling a box with another creature inside. This one wasn’t moving or breathing. Dead. If Abby was saddened at all the death around her, she was mortified by what happened next. A strangely familiar shape descended from above by a heavy network of electrified cables, crackled with dozens of lightning bolts when Doctor Ghoulish pushed a lever slowly on the control panel before him. Abby knew right away by the sickening ganglia of roots and wires what she was looking at. What Doctor Ghoulish said next confirmed it. “With the spirit snare technology, I am able to easily and efficiently capture and contain the soul for transplant.”

“The spirit snare,” Abby fought off the revulsion she felt percolating in her stomach. “That came from The Singulate. You’ve adapted it quite quickly for your purposes.”

“The Singulate?” the man stared at her sideways. “This didn’t come from them. We’ve perfected this aspect from Emile Petrovic’s design long ago. The Singulate stole it from
us
.”

Abby’s mind was racing with bitter betrayal. The treachery Ghost Guard had sworn to eradicate was right in front of her face. The cognitive dissonance it caused she could scarcely believe. Who was she working for? What was she working for? She didn’t know anymore.

“I can see you are…impressed?”

“Yes,” she said before he grew too suspicious of her reluctance. “I
am
impressed. And Mahoney will be equally impressed, I’m sure of it. Now let me get this straight. You say you can transplant souls?”

“Correct. You need a demonstration?”

Abby could not fathom her horror. Then she started to formulate the next step. Like a cat, she was ready to unleash her fury on this thing that passed for a man and the disgusting equipment he was using. But she knew she couldn’t just outright demolish everything. She had to be coy. She had to be sly. She needed an excuse.

“Oh, a demonstration. Of course,” she pretended to be suddenly awkward, tripping over her own feet and clumsily toppling the metal cart on which Doctor Ghoulish kept his equipment. It all came down with a terrible crash, and instantly the scientist began pulling what was left of the hair out of his head.

“My Transplanter!” he rushed to gather what was remaining of his machinery, which had hit the ground hard, metal twisting and glass shattering. “What have you done!”

Before she could answer, sounds of demolishment began to permeate the large, dark room. Abby knew immediately it was Brutus and Ruby, completing the job she had begun. All tables overturned, cages opened and emptied, strange lab creations running amok, squealing with delight, and terror, that they were finally free.

Doctor ghoulish shuffled about in a confused panic, trying to right the tables as her friends knocked them over, crying and moaning about years of work being destroyed in seconds. Abby didn’t harbor a bit of sympathy. He got what he deserved. She just wished she could have punished him further.

As she made her escape to Sector Three, the last things Abby perceived were Doctor Ghoulish scurrying into the darkness, sounds of metal scraping the floor, and the lab animals’ hooves click-clacking in the distance. He was cursing her stridently, his anger and frustration boiling over to the point of madness. She didn’t care. Let him suffer. It was the least he could do. Call it payment for all the sorrow he had caused with his depraved experiments.

Chapter 30

On the move again, Abby didn’t look to see what was happening behind her. She knew Doctor Ghoulish wouldn’t be performing any of his torturous experiments for quite some time, and that was all she wanted to know. It was a case of massive sabotage, and her two ghostly companions were perfect for the job.

Abby was close to losing her mind with rage. She had to compartmentalize and focus on the task at hand, otherwise she would go crazy. She hated the idea of working for someone so duplicitous.

From the lab she reached the entrance to Sector Three, an enigma to Morris. He said he couldn’t get any intel on what Abby would face there. For some unknown reason, all of his tracking and communications apparatuses were ineffective. On top of that, Brutus and Ruby were still indisposed with the destruction of the ghoul’s lab. Abby was on her own now.

There were no defensive measures or countermeasures, no biogenic organisms, no flash stun grenades or tranquilizer darts or infectious agents. There was nothing of the sort. It was, in fact, a calm and soothing atmosphere. The chaos behind her melted away with each step, in its place a serene and sterile, almost heavenly air. It was bright and white with smooth surfaces. A narrow hallway led to a wider reception area, an environment she would have expected from the most modern of five-star resorts. Check-in at some luxury destination. But this was no luxury destination.

With measured steps, she approached the reception desk where she was met by a lone, diminutive woman with gray hair pinned up in a bun. Deep wrinkles branded the thin skin. Dense, horn-rimmed glasses chained around her neck. The elderly lady reminded Abby of her third grade teacher. She was in a state of shock to see one of the nation’s most secure compounds, its nerve center, guarded with such haphazard and lackluster security. It blew her mind.

It was unthinkable ParaIntell would allow the most sensitive and sacrosanct science, too earth-shattering for the general public, to be ultimately guarded by a solitary secretary pushing ninety. To Abby it was beyond belief, considering the sensitivity of what was behind those doors, that a little lady librarian was the final gatekeeper. But it was what it was, and Abby didn’t take anything for granted.

“Hello, my dear,” the lady, whose name was Penelope, didn’t mind guests. In fact, she welcomed them. It had been a long time since her last one, and she missed them. She missed how they tasted. “Do you wish to enter?”

Abby couldn’t answer. It was awkward. It didn’t look good. She simply didn’t know what to say. Then it came to her.

“Lady, I’m going to tell you the truth. I’m from Ghost Guard. I’m here for Emile Petrovic.”

Penelope simply smiled and nodded gracefully while blinking ever so daintily. She had a smooth hint of a soft drawl, and she wasn’t unpleasant. She was just working for
them.

“So, are you going to let me in?”

Penelope remained silent. She was graceful and charming, yet said nothing. Her eyes twinkled, evidence of her pleasure at having the young lady as company, but that was her only answer.

Abby had only so much patience for this old lady. She felt she was being insulted. Where were the bio security measures. The lasers? The artificial intelligence nano robots? A withered and frail woman at the gates of such a vital security zone? Not only was it an insult to Abby as a supernatural counter intelligence professional, it was also quite dangerous for the lady.

“Hell with this!” Abby had no desire to have an argument with this sweet woman. She was prepared for a no holds barred fistfight with whoever and whatever. That obviously was
not
going to happen. Instead, Abby decided to bypass Penelope and walk right in.

Big mistake.

It was the bone shattering sound she first noticed, stopping her dead in her tracks before she got anywhere near the door. She could only describe it as the call of a massive jungle beast, maddening in its wildness and terrifying and its loudness. In all the years, with the hundreds of different entities she’d encountered, she could count on one hand how many times she’d been this frightened by a sound. And to think, this time it was at the hands of a sweet, delicate, little old lady.

But that little old lady wasn’t a little old lady.

In her training, Abby was taught to distinguish between the different types of supernatural manifestations. A ghost, an immortal, a witch, a werewolf, vampire, a necromancer, hauntings of every classification, and, in this case, trolls.

Trolls aren’t the apex when it comes to supernatural entities, but their cleverness and strength set them apart. That plus most of them just have really bad attitudes. And this one, as was clearly evident, had a bad attitude.

One thing was for sure, it had bad breath. Abby nearly blacked out at the pungent aroma torturing her olfactory senses, and the overwhelming stench was a repugnant predecessor of the ugliness to follow.

The troll, after revealing its true appearance, had a bumpy and distorted cranium. And the eyes were ever blinking rapidly, hungrily. It reached out and snatched Abby, nearly snapping her wrists. She thought her hands were going to pop off. She screamed so loud the creature actually let her go, but then reestablished its grip on her and seemed to chuckle a bit.

“Just where do you think you’re going, girly?”

Remember your training. Remember your training. You can do this.

Abby dug in her heels, crossed her arms, and curled her upper lip in a canine snarl. “I demand access to Sector Three.”

Penelope reared her disgusting head. “My, my, my. Isn’t that something? I don’t get many visitors down here. I like visitors. I ate one just the other day. He was excellent raw, with just a little butter and lemon.”

Abby shuddered with unrestrained terror. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because he didn’t know the answer to my riddle. You see, to get past me, everyone must answer my riddle.”

“Riddle? What is this, the Brothers Grimm?”

Another chuckle, deep and low gurgling in its rotund and grotesque belly. “So, are you going to answer my riddle?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“You wish to gain access to Sector Three, do you not? I believe that is what you said. There is only one way for you to get there from here. Are you going to answer my riddle? Because if you do not submit, you will suffer the same consequences as if you answered incorrectly.”

“How is that fair?” Abby saw the writing on the wall. “How can you be allowed to just eat anyone who comes down here?”

“This is a highly secure zone.” The troll blinked one eye, and then another. Bloodshot, runny, festering eyeballs. “The only ones who come down here should know the answer. They would not hesitate to submit when I ask. You, on the other hand, are hesitating. That is disturbing to me. That makes me hungry. And you smell oh so moist and succulent.” The troll made a terrible sound with its flabby jowls and uncomfortably wide lips.

“I’m
not
hesitating. And I’m not afraid to answer your…riddle. It’s just that you’re so goddamn ugly.”

Unrelenting laughter. The troll had a mighty sense of humor, and thought even the darkest and coldest comments were exceedingly hilarious.

“Insult me all you want. It does not change the fact that you are compelled to either answer the riddle or suffer the consequences.”

“You mean being eaten alive?”

The troll kept chuckling. It was unnerving the way it laughed so hard and so long. Abby could not believe how afraid she was of this beast, and her fear was doubled when it did something even more outrageous. It stopped laughing and its grotesque face fell straight with no smile, no hint of joviality whatsoever. Its deformed and grotesque eyes narrowed in on her menacingly. “Quit stalling. I know that’s what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

Abby clenched her fists even harder and nodded reluctantly

“Good. Then let’s proceed.”

The troll rather comically squeezed its bulbous butt into the tiny wooden chair. It was the chair of an elementary school librarian, one of those creaky old wooden ones on tiny casters and ungreased hinges complaining about their heavy burden. With its hairy arms crossed over a rotund gut, the troll cleared its throat (it sounded like a bullfrog) and grinned with an unrelenting viciousness. It was formulating its best, cleverest riddle.

“I’ve got it,” the troll leaned back its ugly head and closed its pestilential eyes.  “A simple question, so it should come as second nature to you, Lieutenant.”

“Do your best, or your worst,” Abby said.

“Oh, I will.” And with that, the troll sat up straight and placed both feet firmly on the floor. It was staring at Abby once again, but this time more studious and intellectual. The troll was curious to see whether or not its initial and prevailing instinct was correct about this imposter. It would know soon enough.

“I am thinking of a bus.”

“A bus?” Abby asked incredulously. “What about a bus?”

“I will tell you,” the troll was irritated by the interruption. “But you must listen carefully, for the answer is hidden within.”

Abby bristled with anxiety. “Fine.”

“As I said, I am thinking of a bus. This bus is travelling down the road, picking up and dropping off passengers. Simple enough?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Now follow and listen closely. The bus has 12 passengers. Got that? As it comes to the first stop, three passengers get off the bus while four get on. At the next stop, five passengers get off the bus, seven get on. On the subsequent stop, fourteen passengers get off and eleven get on. And then, on the next stop, three passengers get off and six get on.”

Abby listened intently, doing the math in her head, ensuring she had the precise calculations. She could not afford to get this one wrong.

“And,” the troll grinned maliciously. “On the bus’s final stop, seven passengers get off while nine get on.”

The troll paused for dramatic effect, nodding in full awareness of the fact that it had this imposter right where it wanted her.

“Now for my question. Did you listen carefully? Did you concentrate? I will not repeat any of what I just said, and I will only ask my question once. Are you ready?”

“Just get on with it.”

“Very well. You heard me describe a bus on its route, picking up people and letting them off. Now, here’s my question: How many stops did the bus make?”

The troll could not contain its expectant jubilation, clenching its fists and displaying its jagged and decaying teeth. It was certain Abby had been counting the number of passengers, just like every other person who had ever heard that riddle. It was a mental game of sleight of hand, a psychological test of distraction. It waited proudly for what it was certain would be a panicked response. Abby was a beautiful and scrawny little human. She didn’t look like she had much fat on her, but would be tasty nonetheless.

However, the answer was more of a shock to the troll.

“Five.”
Abby spoke most confidently. “The bus stopped five times.”

The troll’s smile evaporated into an incredulous frown. “How? How did you know that would be the question?”

Abby explained her stratagem calmly.

“In that scenario, there were really only two questions you could ask. One, how many passengers did the bus have at the end, or two, how many stops did the bus make? I simply kept track of both.”

“No! NO!” the troll spun on its heels with its hands planted against the stubby contractions of skin that passed as ears. “I can’t take this. Go. Go now and never curse me with your presence again.”

It swallowed with much difficulty after saying those words. It would never live this down. It still could not believe what just happened. Bested by a mortal. Nothing could be worse in the eyes a troll.