The Immortal Harvest (31 page)

While he waited, he took a good look around at the row of derelict edifices and sighed heavily. These neighbourhoods always depressed him as they reminded him of his past.

He had grown up as the only child of very poor family. Fortunately, he had realised at a very young age that the only way that he was going to break the cycle of poverty, was for him to excel scholastically as he was always a weedy child and hence that eliminated any desires for athletic achievement.

His keen analytical mind had always been his greatest strength and so had jumped at the opportunity for a scholarship and then internship with the Bureau.

That had been his ticket out of his past and had opened up a whole new world for him, a world that enabled him to flex his analytical mind and to meet like minded people who shared his enthusiasm for solving riddles. He was especially pleased when he had been assigned to work with Lisa.

He felt his face go red when he started thinking about his partner and his feelings for her. He became particularly self conscious when he noticed that Lisa was looking at him, scrutinising him as she moved over closer to him. He could smell her perfume, the slight hint of Jasmine and Lilac which triggered an intense uncomfortable feeling within him.

“Bang-Bang, are you okay? Your face is a bit flushed,” Lisa said as she took her glove off and put the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re not sick are you?”

Lewiston coughed nervously and shook his head as he stepped back slightly, trying to move away from Lisa’s touch as his blushing intensified.

“I…I…I’m fine, it’s just the cold, I get a bit of a reaction to cold breezes, that’s all,” he said as he brushed a loose strand of hair away from his eyes. He felt uncomfortable so he forced himself to look in the direction of the other van.

“Why do you think they are taking so long?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Thompson looks like he’s talking to someone on the phone,” Lisa said just as her phone started to ring.

Lewiston watched as Lisa pulled her phone out of her pocket to answer it. He waited patiently as the other person on the phone spoke and she listened.

“Okay, no problem. We will remain here and take a look around. Call us if you need us,” Lisa said and then shoved the phone back in her pocket.

“What was that all about?” Lewiston asked as he noticed the other van pull out quickly, its tyres squealing slightly as it sped off down the street. “Where are they going?”

“Thompson just got a call from Durning; apparently, he interrogated a witness who gave them a good description of a van which was involved in the Boss’s disappearance. He did some checking; apparently Durning has some connections with the CIA.”

“Yeah, that’d be right,” Lewiston said with derision.

“Anyway,” continued Lisa, “Using a surveillance satellite, the van has been tracked to an abandoned hospital.

Agents Thompson and Cambridge are going there now to try to locate the Boss. Thompson wants us to stay here and find Ms Meth and see how much she knows about Sylvan and Justen Peters.”

Lewiston could see that that sky was getting darker and the threat of rain was imminent.

“Okay then, do we know which building Ms Meth is in?”

“Thompson said it’s the first one in the block of five, Apartment 401 of the Paradise Apartments,” Lisa said as she started walking towards the first building.

Lewiston was about to follow her and stopped. He looked up and down the street.

“Thompson must be losing it,” he said quietly as he followed behind Lisa. He could see that there were only four buildings in the block. There was only a vacant lot where the alleged fifth building was supposed to be.

Further down the street he could see a few obviously homeless people huddled around a burning rubbish bin. He wondered whether there would be anything to gain from interviewing them and then thought better of it. He shrugged his shoulders and quickened his pace, just as the first splotches of rain began to moisten the ground.

He was getting an uneasy feeling that he couldn’t explain. He caught up with Lisa just as she was about to enter the building. He noticed that she opened the door very quietly as if expecting trouble.

The interior of the lobby to the building was very dark. Lewiston felt the wall for a light switch. He found a group of them and flicked them all. The lobby remained in darkness. The building was obviously abandoned.

Even in the dim light Lewiston could see that there was rubbish all over the floor and parts of the walls were collapsing under the weight of decay. The smell was disgusting, a mixture of mould, urine and rat faeces.

“No power Lisa, I don’t think this is Ms Meth’s building,” Lewiston said quietly. “How about we go and check out the next one.

“Thompson said it was the first building. That means we are at the wrong end of this block that’s all,” Lisa said as she turned and walked out of the building into the pouring rain.

Lewiston hunched his shoulders against the wind and rain and shivered. He could see the huddled masses of the homeless getting closer as they made their way down the street to the last building. He tried not to look at them as they passed but couldn’t help noticing that one of the old men look a little bit like his Father.

There, but for the grace of God, go I
, he thought as he wiped a drip of water from his nose and pretended to stare at the footpath, unfortunately he couldn’t help notice that the old man had looked up from the bin and stared at him.

Suddenly the old man moved in front of him and grabbed hold of his arm. He spoke in a croaky voice and pointed his finger at the building.

“That’s the she devil’s kitchen, do not go in there. If you enter, you won’t return.”

Lewiston stopped and was about to reply when he heard Lisa.

“Come on Bang-Bang, ignore him, he’s obviously delusional.”

“I’m so sorry.” Lewiston said as he shook his arm to detach the old man and strode off after Lisa.

As he walked, he glanced behind to see if the old man was following him, but lost him in the rain and the heavy layer of mist which was beginning to rise from the ground.

The first thing that Michael noticed was the silence, and then the asphyxiation. He couldn’t breathe; the air was fetid, with very little oxygen.

He squeezed his eyes closed and focussed his mind. His laboured breathing slowly began to ease as he forced his body to control its processes and extract more available oxygen from his new environment.

He opened his eyes, and realising that he was still tied up with rope, craned his neck to try to ascertain exactly where he was.

He knew that he had been kicked into the event horizon of the wormhole by Dr Oppenheimer.

I knew there was something wrong with him
, he thought as he forced himself to replay the events that had led to his current predicament.

The minute he had walked into the laboratory and saw Dr Becker tied to a chair, he knew it was a trap.

Whatever Oppenheimer had injected him with, had disabled his TDI. However, it had not rendered him unconscious.

He had pretended to go along with the mad doctor’s scheme. He needed to know what was going on.

The fact that Oppenheimer was controlling Mundus Nova did not come as any surprise. What did surprise him was the fact that his good friend was also evil. The man he thought was a saviour was in fact a murderer.

I can’t believe Doctor Becker would have been capable of creating such a terrible virus
, he thought as he methodically worked to untie himself from his constrictions.

As the last of the bindings fell from his body, Michael stood up and took a good look around at his surroundings.

As far as he could tell he was in some kind of holding cell.

The walls, floor and ceiling of the cell were perfectly smooth and coated in a substance that appeared to be perfectly frictionless. He tried to touch the wall. There was a sensation of a force pushing back against his hand. It was an odd feeling. Even though the air was fetid, he could feel there was movement, a breeze like the slight breath of a child.

There was a red bioluminescent message in the air that hovered several feet from his face. It was written in a strange language. A series of squiggles and dots and it appeared to be changing in a rhythmic fashion. At least the last few characters appeared to be changing.

He focussed his attention on the message and it slowly began to make sense to his mind,

Decontamination in progress, completion in…

The last few characters eluded his interpretation but he had the gist of the message. It made sense to him that, wherever he was in space and time, there was a risk that he would carry contaminates from his world. Obviously whatever race of creature lived here was just being cautious.

It was also obvious to Michael that Oppenheimer had not bothered to target any particular destination for the wormhole. His only concern being the destruction of his perceived enemy.

He smiled as he could picture the look on the Doctor’s face when he appeared again to return the favour.

It was indeed fortunate for Michael, that Oppenheimer had been unaware that he did not need the TDI to enter the wormhole. It was also fortunate that he had not been rendered unconscious. He had needed all of the power of his mind to maintain his molecular cohesion whilst inside the swirling vortex.

The bioluminescent message changed colour. Now it was green and the last few characters had stopped changing. The breeze had also stopped. Michael was curious to see what would happen next.

Suddenly the room around him changed.

Shapes morphed around him. The duplicate image of his room back on his world materialised before him. Even the air became heavier with oxygen and he was able to breathe easier.

Well that’s impressive
, he thought as he strode to his newly materialised FSC and opened it slowly.

He pulled out a cold drink and put it to his lips. Just like on his world, the container responded to his touch and an opening appeared that allowed him to take a sip. The juice was sweet and he gulped it down.

The juice initiated pangs of hunger. He remembered the bioflavonoid pellets that he had placed in his pocket when his breakfast had been rudely interrupted. He pulled them out and popped them into his mouth.

As the pellets dissolved he looked around his room. He was amazed that it was exactly the same and concluded that the aliens were able to see into his mind.

I guess I am the alien
, he thought as if to correct himself and wondered whether he was some sort of exhibit to be gawked at like some of the animals he had seen in zoos when he was younger.

As if on cue he heard a voice from behind.

“Welcome Michael, we are very pleased to finally meet you.”

Michael turned slowly and was confronted by the holographic image of an alien species that seemed vaguely familiar to him.

The alien was almost purple in colour with humanoid features, except that it was very tall and thin. Its head appeared out of proportion to the rest of its body and it had large eyes that seemed to provide all of the facial expression as the nose and mouth were small in comparison. Its ears were very small, almost non-existent.

“We trust everything is to your liking, we have tried to make your stay as comfortable as possible,” the alien said as he made a sweeping gesture around the room with one of his extremely thin arms.

“Yes, I am very impressed,” Michael said as he moved to a chair and sat down. “Although I think that a bit more oxygen at the start would have been nice.”

“Of course, you must sit down. Your extraordinary abilities have enabled you to survive quite a journey, but even you have your limits.”

“Thank you,” Michael said as he took another sip from his drink. “You seem to know a lot about me. What shall I call you and where exactly am I?”

“You may call me Oolax. You are currently at a juncture in time and space; we sensed your entry into the wormhole and assisted you in traversing it.”

“We?” Michael asked. “You mean there are more of you?”

“I am merely a projection of your mind; we exist outside of this juncture. Our species inhabit a world very different from yours in another Universe; however we have encountered your species before. We sense that you are the result of this encounter.”

Michael smiled as he realised why they were familiar to him. He shared their DNA.

“You’re my long lost relatives?” he said and then laughed.

“Yes, that is correct. You are genetically similar to us. You and your son are quite unique.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at this last statement and almost choked on his juice. He coughed violently.

When he regained composure, he stood up and moved closer to the image of the alien.

“How do you know about Justen?” he asked angrily, throwing the drink container against the wall.

“Calm down, we can see inside your mind, we know everything you know.”

“Well stop it. Get out of my mind!”

“You have the ability to stop us Michael,”

Of course I can
, Michael thought as he erected mental barriers in his mind.

Satisfied that he had prevented any further intrusion, he stepped back slightly from the alien.

“Well since you know so much about me and my son, you would also know why I came to be here,” he said as he made a sweeping motion around the room with his arm.

“You have been betrayed.”

Michael noticed that Oolax’s eyes conveyed a genuine sense of empathy. He could almost feel the concern emanating from him.

“Yes I have. Can you help me?” he asked as his feelings of anger morphed into feelings of remorse and loss as he realised how far he was from his son.

He looked up to see that the alien seemed to be concentrating on something.

“One moment please Michael,” Oolax said just before he disappeared.

Michael realised that Oolax must have gone to confer with the others that he had spoken about. He decided to use the time he had to have a good look around his enclosure.

He could see that every detail of the room he had been living in had been exactly duplicated. He marvelled at the way he could pick up objects and actually feel them like they were real.