Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1) (11 page)

He was surprised that for all their alterations, they were hunting powered people for being different. Powered people were altered against their will. These humans had gone out of their way to sell their humanity for upgrades. He had the same thought of the guards at the art gallery, but those Corps members paled in comparison to these soldiers. He wondered if it was because of their detail or because of their rank that they were provided with so much time at the Body Shop.

The small metal ball hovered in front of him. He held his breath as the red beam crossed his body. He had nothing to hide—almost nothing to hide. The guards stared at their computer screens and paused for a moment. Conthan tensed as the seconds dragged on. The scan finished and the ball moved on to the next person in line, however, one of the guards began to approach him.

“Conthan Cowan,” the guard said.

Conthan’s body tensed at the name. “Yes, sir?” he said squeamishly.

“We rarely have returning visitors.”

Conthan choked on his words. “I, uhm…” He paused. “I’m here to see Sarah Mathis. She was a close friend.”

The man started to reply but paused. Conthan could tell he was receiving orders from somewhere. His eyes came back into focus. “She’ll be brought to one of the conference rooms to speak with you.”

Conthan was a bit shocked he was able to get access to her with no advanced warning. He expected to have to pitch a fit and scream about crimes against humanity. The ease almost made him more suspicious of what was going on. “Thank you.”

The letter was neatly tucked into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He tried to understand how Eleanor could have orchestrated this entire event. Had she known this would happen? Was there a man working on the inside? Did somebody else receive a letter allowing him passage? He was thankful for the help beyond the grave, but his stomach tightened. There was a plot unfolding around him and he didn’t like that Eleanor hadn’t revealed the whole story.

The soldier nodded and moved on to the remaining people in line. The man reached the last individual in the line and the red beam began to scan him. Conthan watched as it reached his waistline and paused for a second, then continued.

It got quiet, so quiet it was awkward. Nature seemed to hold its breath. A wheezing sound could be heard and then a
thunk
. The man at the end of the line buckled and fell to the ground.

The soldiers turned back to the crowd. “He was armed.”

Conthan took a moment to process that the sound had been a bullet flying through the air. The
thunk
had been it penetrating the man’s skull. Nobody flinched, as if it was a common occurrence. Nobody had any questions about what they had witnessed, or at least none they would voice aloud. Even the couple of civilians were so terrified they kept their eyes forward and avoided eye contact with the guards.

A soldier kneeled and ripped open the man’s pants. He lifted up a small gun-like object. “Ceramic pistol with three rounds. He thought our scanners only detected metal.” The guards chuckled for a moment.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Conthan thought.

Chapter Nine

May 17th, 2032 3:01PM

…
will
be a time when you begin to doubt yourself. This doubt is not rooted in your own insecurities, but in the role you play in a grander scheme. To this point, you have played by the rules set forth by your position. Today is the day you begin to feel the doubt consume you. There will be a single moment in which you find yourself questioning the beliefs that have allowed you to survive.

I cannot challenge your beliefs, as I cannot see into the soul of an individual. I can, however, give you a path that will allow you to begin atoning for your past. The moment you ask yourself if what you’re doing is right, simply pause. In that moment’s hesitation you will find yourself set free.

Be at peace.

With Regards,

Eleanor P. Valentine

***

The
silence in the small ten-by-ten room was absolute. Conthan was amazed by the perfection of the walls; it appeared as if there were no seams. There were only two plastic chairs mounted to the floor, and a small surveillance orb hovering in the corner.

He reached out to the small orb. As his hand approached the sphere, it moved higher, just beyond his fingertips. He pressed his hands against the wall, searching for a point where the angles changed, but found they messed with his sense of touch as much as his eyesight. He jumped as a hiss filled the room. Hydraulic locks retracted within the walls as a door slid open, a seam appearing in the wall. Standing in the opening was a portly man wearing a designer business suit.

“Mr. Cowan,” he said calmly, “I find it curious that you have returned to the Danger Zone.”

“I’m curious like that.”

The man tapped the ID badge pinned to his chest, similar to the one they pinned on Conthan at the gate. “The radiation here can be somewhat alarming for those not granted certain precautions.”

Conthan was already tired of listening to him. He could tell the man liked the sound of his own voice and was going to do everything in his power to lord over him. Against his nature, Conthan bit his tongue and let him have his moment.

“You do not like me?”

Conthan’s eyebrow lifted at the accuracy of the statement. “I have a general distaste for everybody.”

“Such a cynic, for someone so young. I am the Warden of the Danger Zone facility,” he said, stepping into the room. “You are only being granted this audience because I find your friend an astounding research subject. Perhaps she will cooperate more with a friendly face supporting her.”

“Bullshit,” Conthan mumbled.

“Speak your mind, Mr. Cowan,” the man said. “Your words are written across your face.”

Conthan paused at the statement. The man was being horribly cryptic, trying to bait Conthan into some sort of argument. He couldn’t figure out the game being played. He was beginning to suspect he was an unwilling participant in a bigger scheme.

Instead of participating, Conthan shrugged his shoulders in disinterest. “I’m just here to see Sarah.”

The man’s eyebrow rose. Conthan smirked at the reaction; he had spent years in these games of wit with his foster mother. The man could be a mind reader and Conthan would find a way to dodge the game.

Both men waited for the other to react. Conthan wondered how much of the Warden’s bulk was muscle. Conthan imagined leaping into the air, driving his knuckles into the man’s jaw. He wondered if the man would react or accept the blow to prove he was stronger. Conthan watched his eyes study him, predicting his next move.

“So be it Mr. Cowan,” the Warden said, “I will be back to debrief you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Conthan replied.

The Warden turned about and exited. Several moments later, two guards walked into the room half escorting, half dragging Sarah with them. Conthan watched as they sat her down in the chair. She offered no resistance as they put cuffs on each of her wrists, leading to a circular object they set down on the floor. With the flick of a button, the cuffs magnetized and secured themselves to the floor, keeping her hands stationary at her side.

“You will have ten minutes,” said one of the guards. “Your interaction will be monitored, and should any action be considered aggressive, you will be terminated.”

A guard pressed a button on the back of his glove. The orb in the air buzzed to life. A red beam scanned the room and then vanished. The ball hovered just above their heads as the guards stepped outside. It remained stationary, resting on the edge of the room, watching them. The door hissed again, closing into place, and the seams vanished as if they were never there.

“Sarah,” Conthan said, “how are you?”

Her body looked like an insect with its exoskeleton on top of muscle. He could see the inset of her eye sockets, and within, beautiful blue eyes. She didn’t look like the woman he had once known, but he was delighted to see she was still alive. He resisted reaching out and taking her hand, but he was sure he wasn’t hiding the shock written across his face.

“Sarah?”

She didn’t respond to his voice. He got to his knees in front of her and looked at the hovering ball of metal. He reached out and touched her hand, the sphere not moving as his fingers creeped along hers. The bone felt sharp under his fingertips, reminding him of a bird’s talons. “Sarah, what have they done to you?”

He rested his hand on hers and squeezed the boney appendage gently. “Are you in there?”

Her eyes shifted slightly, making contact with his. He felt a bit of hope until he realized she was looking through him like he wasn’t there. He reached up and touched a spot on her cheek that gave way to exposed skin. “Can you hear me, Sarah?”

Conthan closed his eyes. Tears rolled down his cheek. He had waited so long to see her, and even sitting in front of her now, he felt she was miles away. He smiled at her. “I had my first gallery show,” he said, not knowing what else to talk about. “You’d be embarrassed.”

He could feel the words catch in his throat. “They were paintings of you. Remember that drawing I did sophomore year? That was the idea for the whole thing. It was amazing to see a room full of people admiring you. It was going great until all hell broke loose. It was great though.”

He saw her lips shift into a fleeting smile. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but somewhere inside the husk of calcification was his friend. “Someday I’ll come back and I’ll show you the oil painting I did. It was almost as beautiful as you.”

He was staring at her face when he realized the room was getting darker. He looked up to where the metal ball was hovering. After a few seconds it was swallowed by the shadows. The room grew dark enough that he couldn’t see the walls. He stood and turned about. Other than Sarah, the room was gone. He couldn’t explain why, but he was certain they were no longer standing in the cell.

“Be calm,” said a gentle voice.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He recognized the voice from the other night. “Who are you?”

He spun around to see a middle-aged woman wearing a flowing gown. He was struck by how bright she appeared in the void of darkness. “Be calm, Conthan,” she said. “I am here to help you again.”

“How did you…” He paused before he finished the statement. He didn’t know much about powered people, but he was fully aware this was some sort of mentalist. They were hunted and killed on sight. “A telepath?”

She nodded. “Conthan, you have to listen to me,” she said. “You are not safe here.”

“No shit,” he said. “I’m some sort of freak and for some reason I came to the most secure facility in the world because a note told me to.”

The woman’s brow furrowed as she processed the information. Her eyes were deep pools; he found himself fixed, caught in her gaze. “You received a letter from Eleanor.”

“How do you know that?”

“You are not the only one she is guiding,” she said. “My letter told me that you would be here. It told me that I must reach out to you and do whatever I must to protect you.”

“Why me?”

She shrugged. “Eleanor couldn’t see the future beyond our interaction. Something about you is extremely important.”

“What does Sarah have to do with this?”

The woman held her hands out to her side and he could see her take several breaths. Her face scrunched up in concentration. “Say what you must, I can only do this for a moment.”

“Conthan?”

He turned around to see Sarah. Where she had been covered in bone before, she was now the flesh and blood girl he had first met. “What happened?” he asked, wrapping her in a hug.

“Conthan, you need to get out of here.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“This place isn’t what you think it is,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “It’s a research facility, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the government. The Warden…” She paused. “He’s not human.”

As quickly as she had appeared, she faded into the darkness. Conthan panicked and looked back to the woman in robes. “What happened to her?”

“This is far more taxing than I anticipated,” she said calmly. “I couldn’t keep her here as well. He knows we are here.” The woman’s face looked strained. Her soft features were beginning to give way, revealing a multitude of wrinkles. Her skin melted into a sickly green.

The woman grit her teeth. “Conthan,” she hissed, “we’re going to help you. But…” For a moment the woman in front of him transformed, her skin a dark green and her hair the darkest black he had even seen. “We are going to need your help.”

He began to freak out. “What can I do?”

“I will help you,” she said, “but do not fight me.”

“I’m not fighting you,” he said, perplexed.

“Beware the Warden,” cried the woman as arms reached out of the shadows and pulled her backward into the nothingness.

Conthan felt the darkness close in on him. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was still in the room, kneeling in front of his friend. Sarah’s affect hadn’t changed. None of it had been real, he thought. He pulled his hand away from her cheek and saw that she had shed a tear. He wiped it away from her cheek and heard the familiar hiss of the hydraulic locks.

“Mr. Cowan,” came the Warden’s voice. “Come with me.”

Conthan looked to his friend and then to the large man. He could hear Sarah’s words echoing in his head. What about the man was there to trust at this point? Everything about him seemed creepy, and Conthan was not looking forward to another exchange with the arrogant prick.

He followed the man down the hallway, amazed to see there were very few guards. He assumed the entire building was automated, the locks and cameras feeding into some central hub. He reached another locked door and watched as the Warden leaned in and let a small sensor scan his eyes. The door opened and they entered a part of the building that looked more like the interior of a mansion than a prison facility.

“I thought we could talk in my office.”

Conthan passed two guards as they entered. Unlike the guards who escorted Sarah into the cell, these two had blank looks on their faces. Their smiles seemed to be permanent fixtures. Instead of military attire, they wore beaten leather jackets. They were out of place in the facility, but it was their creepy smiles that disturbed him the most.

The Warden’s office was covered in decadent wood paneling and a lavish carpet. The massive desk was flanked by a leather couch and several monitors mounted to the wall. Despite the plush décor, Conthan was very aware he was still a hostage inside the facility. There were dozens of guards ready to gun him down the moment he presented any sort of opposition to the Warden.

He thought back to the letter, why had it suggested he come to such a dangerous place. He was in one of the most secure facilities in North America, shy of a military barracks. And even worse, he was a powered individual in a place where powered people were housed, studied, and killed.

“What brings you here, Conthan?”

The Warden spoke as if he knew Conthan’s secret but wanted him to confess. “I came to see a childhood friend.”

“I see.”

“Your smug tone is kind of irritating,” Conthan replied flatly.

“My smug tone comes from years of studying people. What I find odd right now…” He paused. “You are an anomaly. Nobody returns to the Danger Zone, especially none that aren’t invited.”

“I’m special,” Conthan said, “so sue me.”

“I suspect that,” the Warden said, settling into the chair behind his desk. “The question is, what is special about you?”

“I’ve been told I have a mouth that won’t quit,” he said.

The Warden avoided the bait and stared at the young man. He was studying him and Conthan had no idea what he was looking for. “What is it you want from me?” asked Conthan.

“I want answers.”

The Warden leaned in, resting his elbows on the desk. Conthan felt the man’s eyes boring a hole into him, and for a moment a stinging sensation began behind his eyes. He grit his teeth and let out a slight hiss. “If you’re just going to stare at me like a piece of meat, I think I can be on my way.”