Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2) (11 page)

Stewart nodded his head. Marcus stood up and fired a few rounds toward the bad guys, all the while intending on sprinting into the woods as quickly as he could. Unfortunately, something happened Marcus had not counted on. Stewart, in his strange attire and his shining glasses, had blood leaking from his mouth. Marcus looked at him, astonished he had been hit so quickly. A dark red spot was spreading from a central point in his chest, leaking down his stomach rapidly.

“Son of a bitch,” he groaned, stumbling hard into Marcus. Marcus knew what was coming, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He tripped over a fallen rock, slammed his butt on the top of the low wall and grasped wildly for anything that would keep him from falling over. Though his hands worked hard to snag the stones as he fell, his fingers refused to find purchase. He toppled over backwards into the dark abysmal depths of what he had thought was a well.

“Marcus!” screamed Cynthia, nearly running out from the cover of the forest to help her team leader. “Marcus, no!”

Bits and pieces of trees started splintering away as whoever the bad guys were saw their new targets. They fired round after round, unable to hit anything but trees. It was enough to make David throw Cynthia to the ground and cover her with his massive body. After a moment, he took an opportunity he figured he would not get again. In one swift movement, he hauled her up off the ground and started tugging her through the trees.

The high screeching sound of an incoming rocket sent them back to their bellies. The blast and subsequent heat wave forced them to shove their faces into the dirt, hoping they wouldn’t be blown to bits. Trees fell as the rocket propelled grenade exploded, cutting through the wood like hot steel through butter. Shrapnel peppered both the teammates, though nothing serious enough to stop them in their tracks.

They both got up and ran in unison, knowing all too well that they were leaving their team leader down a well shaft to die, if he hadn’t already. David was like a bull in the thick underbrush, tossing tree limbs aside as if they didn’t even exist. Cynthia merely trailed behind, fearing less for her own life than for Marcus’s. She turned and fired a few potshots off as she ran, hoping that they would deter the men from following too closely. She couldn’t see anyone behind her, though she could feel them moving forward as if they were part of her crawling skin.

“We need to move,” Stephen said over the radio. “We can’t take on this many people. We’re going to move out into the woods farther. Meet us due east of the trucks.”

“Sounds good,” Cynthia said breathlessly. She could hear the semi-automatic and automatic weapons firing in unison from wherever they had been. The two moved farther into the woods away from the road and the sound of the river, but the gunfire only got louder. It made her nervous and worried that they might be stumbling into yet another ambush.

David was first to break through into the small clearing. He was met almost immediately by the barrel of a gun pointed straight between his eyes. The breath of relief he sighed came only after he realized the man on the other end was their own teammate, Stephen.

“Where’s Henry?” Cynthia asked immediately. “He should be here, too, right?”

The look Stephen gave her nearly broke her heart in two. Something had gone seriously wrong with this mission.

The ride had been mostly quiet and dark. The man who had taken her away was named Edwardo Rodriquez. He was from Venezuela, yet somehow knew exactly who Amy and her family were. His broad-brimmed hat hid a mess of black hair, and the blue eyes set too deep inside his young face contrasted wildly against his dark features. This man was something she had never seen, though she wouldn’t really know if she had.

Amy tucked her legs up under her as she ran her fingers down through her short black hair. She tried to think positive thoughts, but could hardly keep her mouth shut because of all the questions she wanted to ask. After just a few minutes in the car, she decided she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Who are you?” was her first question. Edwardo answered without hesitation, not worried whether or not Amy knew who her savior, or kidnapper, was. “And how do you know my family?”

“I was sent here to find you,” he answered bluntly again. “Your family is very wealthy. They are aware of the horrible experiments that have been done to you. Your blood was drained and you were shocked—just look at your arms.”

She did so, at the gruesome circles that adorned both of her arms right where they bent. She hadn’t given them much thought until now. It just raised more questions.

“I’m confused,” she whimpered.

“You will be for some time,” he said. “We will have to treat you medically before you will start remembering anything.”

“Medically?” Amy whispered. “Why couldn’t the hospital do that?”

“Because they are part of the problem,” the man comforted her. “They do not know what was done to you by those cruel scientists aboard the ship. I do. I can reverse what was done and get you back to normal. That is why I was hired.”

“What was done to me?”

He sighed. Whether it was because he did not want to answer or because he didn’t have all the answers, Amy couldn’t guess. All she could feel was the burning inside her chest as she yearned for knowledge. Why she was taken or where she was going was very low on her list of priorities now.

“The men aboard the ship kidnap young women from around the world,” he started. “They take them somewhere private and brainwash them with those terrible machines. Then, they use them as sex-slaves and mindless zombies. You’re very lucky that we found you when we did. You’re also lucky the machine backfired and ended up killing those men.”

“But how can I trust you?”

Edwardo pulled something out of his coat. It was a picture of her, smiling and happy. She had shorter hair than she did now, bleached nearly blonde by the sun. Her twig legs and skinny arms were also much darker than they were now, possibly because of the beach upon which she sat. Her parents, two wonderful looking people, hugged her closely. They were not familiar to her in any way, but she felt as if they must be her mother and father.

“I’m here to take you back,” he stated simply.

Amy was quiet then, unable to comprehend all the information Edwardo was giving her. She pulled her legs up tighter under her and tried to keep her mouth shut. For three hours, she was successful. America was a strange place to her. Tall buildings were replaced by sprawling stretches of trees before yet more tall buildings sprung up out of nowhere. The small towns they went through seemed dead in the middle of the night, yet sporadically men and women walked the streets.

Soon, she dozed off and her head lolled to one side. Eventually she even started dreaming pleasant dreams as the car bounced softly down the freeway. They were headed north, yet that meant nothing to her at the time. She didn’t really care where they were headed, as long as it meant getting her back to normal. Amy wanted most of all to have a sense of where she belonged.

After an hour or so, her dreams took a turn for the worst. They felt as if reality had somehow invaded her head and threatened to strangle her. Men and women danced slowly together upon a mahogany floor beneath a swinging set of decorative lights. She knew from the way her feet worked strangely beneath her that she was back aboard the ship. In her hand was a drink and beside her sat a good looking man.

He smiled through dark lips and black eyes at her—her perception of reality was obviously askew in the dream world. When he spoke, nothing came out but a warbling noise that made her nauseous. She smiled back, looking down into her own drink. The lighting here made everything look crazy, especially since it swayed to and fro. She couldn’t make out anything familiar in this world, but she knew this was something she had already endured.

As time wore on with her in the ship, it also started speeding up. The man got up and walked away as she sat quietly, but he moved like some flash of light through a particularly dense piece of glass. He sped this way and that, through the other men and women aboard the ship while they all followed suit. It was just another thing that made her nauseated aboard the ghost ship.

Then she felt herself restrained. Somehow she knew she was being bound, though she was helpless to stop it. In a dark room, surrounded by flashes of light she presumed were men and women, she simply ceased all movement. It wasn’t like she had an option anyway. This dream didn’t seem to have an end, nor did it have an escape route. She was a prisoner in her own head.

Through the darkness, above the flashing circle of men and women who seemed to be working on her, there came something familiar. It was the smiling apparition of her friendly haunt. He comforted her as the men and women did terrible things to her. She didn’t notice what they were doing anymore, for the man who floated above her kept her mind preoccupied and at ease. She felt peace as she drifted into his eyes.

Suddenly she was awake. The dawn had broken somewhere in the distance and the very first rays of light were making the puffy white clouds red. She grinned, realizing that somehow she had gotten into a warm and cozy bed. The big window in front of her gave her the perfect view of both city, far in the distance, and nature. The trees seemed big and natural, green as if they had been watered continuously all year long.

“Where are we?” she asked in a lazy Spanish dialect. “I don’t remember getting into bed.”

If she expected anyone to answer, she was mistaken. Amy slowly rolled from side to side, looking all over the room to figure out exactly where she was. The tiles on the floor were dark and cold and Amy didn’t really want to get out of bed just yet. She stretched and felt her skin, bare except for a bra and panties. Something like worry flashed through her, though she felt as if she should shove it out of her mind.

The door opened and a woman walked in. She was short, blonde, and had the pointiest nose Amy could imagine having ever seen. Upon her nose sat a pair of perfectly round spectacles that did a great job keeping her eyes hidden. Her tight businesslike attire told Amy that she was someone who had come to discuss things, not comfort her.

“It’s time to wake up,” the woman said in Spanish. “You need to get some food in you. You’ve been asleep for nearly thirty hours.”

“Thirty?” cried Amy. “Where did the time go?”

“You are not well,” the woman said curtly. “You need all the sleep you can get. For now, however, you’re also going to need to eat something. There are many things you must prepare yourself for. I’m going to help you through most of it, but you’re going to need help from all of us if you’re ever going to get home.”

She lit a cigarette from which thin tendrils of smoke immediately started curling. They floated up toward the tall ceiling and dissipated into small clouds before being sucked away into ducts. Amy found she didn’t mind the scent of the cigarette, or the woman.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Gelda,” the woman answered quickly. “You will remember me once you start getting better. Don’t worry. We used to be good friends.”

Amy wondered if that was why she didn’t mind the smell of the woman. She knew some things should be familiar to her, and smells seemed to come back to her more easily than sights or sounds. She wondered if Gelda knew her name.

“Do you know my name than?” she asked politely. “If you can tell me my name, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Gelda hesitated. Where she had been picking out clothing for Amy, she stopped for just a brief moment. If Amy hadn’t been watching her intently, she would have never realized the woman had hesitated at all.

“Edwardo should have told you,” Gelda said softly. “We cannot tell you your name, or mention any specific details about your old life. If we do, there is a possibility you will have parts of your memory destroyed when you go through the reclamation process. When we start rebuilding your memories, when you go through the treatments to reverse what this awful government has done to you, you must be fresh. That means that you cannot burden yourself with memories from your past.”

Amy did not understand. She didn’t know what had happened to her and was starting to care less and less. All she really wanted was for her memory to come back and to find herself back home. In the depths of that despair, Gelda came over and wrapped an arm around her skinny shoulders.

“There, there,” she coddled. “You need not worry. I know this is confusing, but you’ll know more in just a while.”

Amy worried less after a few hours with Gelda and the group of people that inhabited the apartment. They stayed in a high rise on the outskirts of a New York city she had never heard of. The two men she had never met before were also very friendly, and so was her supposed friend. They all greeted her like a sick child, holding her hand a little too long when they said hello and making every attempt to be gentle. She found it somewhat confusing that everyone seemed to know about her ailment, but she figured she was the talk of the group.

It wasn’t until later that night that she was really allowed out of her room. Though no one had said anything to make her think otherwise, they were sure to keep the door closed while she lay in bed resting. She received two meals during the day and all the sparkling water she could manage to get down, which seemed somewhat sour and salty at the same time. The view was beautiful from the room, and she found herself looking out through the blinds for most of the day instead of watching television or reading magazines.

When the door opened and she was beckoned out, she was given proper attire that actually fit her. The jeans hugged her hips and thighs comfortably and her shirt was long enough and skinny enough to make her feel like a woman again. She smelled them as she put them on. They were clean enough to make her nose tingle.

The main living space was full of life, food, and music. Everyone seemed to be having a good time as they drank alcohol and ate from the huge assortment of food that had been laid out before them. Amy was immediately happy. She smiled at all the wonderful smells and happy music. Somehow, this all felt right.

She didn’t need anyone to guide her over to the food. Amy took the initiative and grabbed herself a heaping plate of chicken and mashed potatoes, some curry-spiced food and a large chunk of bread pudding. Although the men and Gelda were happy, they kept a distance from her. She felt at some points like she was being treated like a timid animal which they were afraid might bolt at the first sign of commotion.

They left her alone until she got her first plate of food and found a place to eat. Gelda was the first to approach her. She handed her a large glass of champagne in which had been placed a single strawberry. Amy was happy to sip on it, yet found it strangely flavored. It had a saline taste. It wasn’t enough to turn her off though, so she ate and drank happily.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Amy said between bites of food.

“We have been looking for you for a long time,” she said. Her too-red lips made Amy wonder whether or not she was dressing up to impress someone. “Though you just remember the last few days, this has been an ongoing struggle for months.”

“Months?” Amy nearly choked. “I have been gone for months?”

“What does it really matter whether you were gone for one month or one day,” Gelda stated flatly. “You cannot remember anything of your life so it is really of no consequence to you how long you’ve been gone.”

Amy felt abashed by the statement. Though she knew it wasn’t designed to hurt her, she still felt as if it were a slight. She didn’t ask any more questions, but shoved her mouth full of bread pudding. Sweet and salty.

“We are ensuring you are full of electrolytes,” Gelda said, reading Amy’s quizzical expression. “You need salt and potassium—we’re giving it to you through your food.”

“Why so much?” Amy asked, smacking her tongue against the top of her mouth.

“Because your treatment will take a lot of them away,” she responded. “We will start treating you tomorrow morning, which is why we celebrate now. You’ll go through something much like what you experienced on the ship, yet this treatment is designed to help you instead of harm you.”

Amy felt a shiver of fear pass through her spine. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the machines that made her feel crazy before. She kept having nightmares of that yacht and had no intention of revisiting any of them willingly.

“I don’t want that,” she blurted involuntarily.

“I am sorry,” Gelda said gently. “But it is the only way you can be whole again.”

“But…” Amy was scared. The food seemed less appetizing now, knowing she would be tortured again.