Goldstein
Member
|
This sucks. This really sucks. I leaned back and stretched my legs out, crossing my arms behind my head. The dark blue transport bus was empty, even though looked like it could seat eleven. This sucks.
What had I done? I had to have done something pretty bad. So much was obvious. I was in some bus going who knows where. I was told nothing. I’m being told nothing. That fat Irish driver isn’t telling me a thing, even though I ask. Repeatedly. And the worst part, I’ve been in here for what…sixteen hours? I don’t know, I lost track, really. When I was shoved in here, I found a pack of Chips Ahoy and a quart of OJ. And a pack of raw hotdogs. Those are gone, and I have no idea how much longer this ride will be. This sucks.
I was just being a good soldier, you know? I’m in Afghanistan, fixing up some poor IED victim, when a buddy of mine tells me a guy’s here that is asking for me. So, being the dutiful soldier that I am, I quietly and cooperatively climb into the back of the convoy truck. As soon as I do, however, I’m bludgeoned by what I think was a cricket bat. When I wake up, I’m on an airplane with the windows bolted shut. I’m the only one on the thing, and there’s only six seats on the entire plane. The window looking in on the cockpit is tinted, so I can’t see in. And I guess they can’t see me. So for about five hours I pace the cabin, trying to pry open one of the covers on a window. Or I’m ranting, asking what I did to deserve this, lamenting the possible outcomes, and cursing everyone I know. Then, I’m knocked out again as we start to land. I know it was cricket bat that second time.
So, here I am. Who knows how long I was out. Who knows when I’m going to be knocked out again. I just know that every time I try to fall asleep, this damn bus runs over a stump or rut or big rock and throws me around like a penny in a dryer.
“Hey, buddy!” I yell as I tap on the glass divider separating driver from passenger. “Where am I? Where are we heading? Can I get some answers, please?”
The driver just stared at me, his eyes blood-shot. He had bits of cardboard set up so I couldn’t see through the windshield. For all I know, we could be in New York running over pedestrians.
I eventually gave up and sat back down. I had nothing with me except what was on my person. My combat fatigues and well-made tan boots. My aviator sunglasses were in a pocket. Broken, of course. Probably when I fell to the ground the first time. My National Geographic watch is still intact and working. Thank God, it was a gift from Mom. Too bad it isn’t glow in the dark, then I might have been able to gauge how long I had been in here. I had no change of clothes, and the fatigues are tattered and dusty. This sucks.
God, that dish I was…using started to stink up this bus. “Hey, can you stop for a second? I need to empty that can, please.”
The driver just opened the divider and stuck his hand out. Disgusted, I gave him the soiled plate. Without a single display of emotion, the driver chunked the thing out the window. I caught a brief glance of glittering snow. So, guess we weren’t playing Grand Theft Auto in Manhattan. “Hey, I think I’ll need another one of those before too long.” I said dryly.
“Naw, we’ll be there in maybe…half and hour.”
“And where is “there”, exactly?”
The driver rudely slammed the divider shut.
I let out a dismayed groan. This sucks.
True to his word, we arrived half an hour later. “Well, Mr. Rim, this is your stop.” he grumbled as he opened the door.
I raised an eyebrow as I looked through the door, surveying the ice on the barren ground. “How about no, huh? How about we go back to my field hospital in Afghanistan? How about that? Cause there’s no way you’re going to get me to get out in the…in the freaking Tibet mountains.”
The driver snorted. “You sure about that?” He held up…a cricket bat.
I instantly tensed. “…yeah, yeah I am. I’m not getting out of this bus.”
The driver shook his head, almost looking sad. “Alright, fine…” he said as he started to get up, the cricket bat still in hand.
“Okay, okay! Geez, okay!” I said, panicked. I stepped reluctantly out of the bus and looked around. At least there was some sort of…housing.
It was huge. Sorta. It was about, uh, five stories tall. Large, frosty windows revealed nothing, as the lights were off in all of the rooms save the bottom floor. Parallel to the main building were two simple structures that looked a little like long storage sheds. The entire complex was sitting on an indent in a sheer cliff. I spun around and saw that I had just come up a long, steep hill. The entire landscape was dotted by black trees and frozen rocks. I sighed, my breathe crackling as it floated away. “It’s cold.” I murmured stupidly as I slowly made my way to the main building. I could see someone standing inside the large glass double doors, his hands behind his back. I sure hope he isn’t concealing a gun.
After I had walked about ten yards from the bus a small group emerged from one of the small side buildings, the left one. Each member was carrying a large black case. I could hear the contents clinking from fifty yards away. As the little trio made their way for me, one tripped and dropped his case. His companions simply forged ahead. I guess they didn’t notice, as he was in the back.
I quickly ran to his aid, that urge to help everyone in me still. I picked up the case, not realizing that it was partially open. A smaller case fell out and sank into the fluffy snow. I squatted down and held it up, shaking it slightly. I heard the sound of metal hitting each other and the swish of some kind of liquid. The idea of syringes popped into my head. As I went to unzip the case, the fallen man snatched it from me and tucked it back inside the bigger bag with a small scowl on his face. He slung the pack under his arm and joined his group in the bus without so much as a “thank you”. The bus door creaked shut, and the bus slowly made a U-turn and started down the hill and out of sight. I blinked, confused. That and the cold air was burning my eyes. I dusted the slush from my pants and swiftly made my way into the base. My fatigues didn’t do much to keep me warm, and the wind had started up.
“Welcome to Compound BL-212, Dr. Rim!” the man said warmly as I shut the glass door behind me. “We are pleased to receive your company. I am Dr. Charles Goldenstien.”
I looked around, a little weary. The entire bottom level seemed to be a long corridor lined with doors on either side. At the end of the hallway, about 100 yards away was another set a double doors with a small plaque that read, “Mess Hall”. The floor was white tile, the walls were steel and the ceiling was a pattern of harsh incandesce light fixtures and a foam-looking material. The whole corridor smelt of ammonia, with an odd hint of Febreeze. It had a wholly sterile feeling about it. I guessed this was some kind of hospital.
“Okay, uh, nice to meet you too. Isaac is fine, Dr. Rim is too formal, uh, Charles. Can I ask you a quick question? Where the hell am I?”
“What, Painlen didn’t brief you?”
I curled my bottom lip. “No, no I don’t think so. Unless Painlen is the nickname you gave that bat, no.”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Look, I know absolutely nothing about anything. I don’t know why I’m here, what this place is, nothing. I’ve been kept in the dark, mostly.”
Charles furrowed his brow. “Oh, where to begin. Come, let’s walk and talk.” he said as he started down the hallway. I followed beside him, eager. I was finally going to get some answers!
“To start off,” he began, rubbing his jaw in a deep-in-thought kind of manner, “we’re located on the Gorjanci mountain range in Slovenia on the Balkan Peninsula. This compound was built in the early 1960’s, just after the Cuban Missile Crisis. I guess the government thought there would be an influx of radiation victims or something. I don’t know. I just know that this place sat, vacant, for about three decades. Then some genius came up with the idea that they should send us insubordinates here as punishment.”
“So, this place is just a giant prison?” I gasped. Dear God, I’m in jail!
Charles shrugged again. “Not really. If you ever got the government to admit this place exists and then convinced them to talk about it, I’m sure they’d sell you some BS that sounds like an X-File episode…a secret base where people with strange and rare diseases are studied and treated. I mean, we don’t have any aliens or anything silly like that. Granted, we have a zombie, vampire and a werewolf. Just the mundane, you know?”
“Uh-huh…”
“Well, this place is really for people who pissed of some shadowy overlord. What we did isn’t exactly punishable, but we still pissed on someone’s shoes, and that’s that.”
“Um…I don’t follow. What exactly do you…?”
Charles dismissively waved his hand. “Ah, it’s too hard to explain. Come on, I bet you’re hungry. The others can tell you their stories. Maybe then things will be clear, eh?”
I doubtfully nodded, and followed Charles through the double doors.
The room was about the size of a small cafeteria, with four round tables situated at each corner. In the upper-right corner sat a group of four men who looked like soldiers in snowy camouflage. At the bottom-left corner sat two women, both in lab coats similar to Charles’. Large windows on the left and right walls offered a chilling view. A small buffet sat in the middle, with trays of food lit up by harsh heat lamps. A small stack of plates sat at one end.
As we walked in, tall black man stepped forward and said in a halting, deep voice, “Hello. I’m John Coffey. Like the drink, but spelled different.”
I glanced at Charles. Seeing his dead-pan face, I hesitantly grasped the man’s outstretched hand. “Uh, hi. I’m Isaac.”
“Hello Isaac, I’m John Coffey. Like the drink, but spelled different.”
I glanced around the room and realized that all faces were watching me, each with a look of concealed humor. I narrowed my eyes. “Wh…what’s going-”
“Ah, I’m just kidding with you. Nice to meet you Isaac. I’m Darrel Rowan.” he said with a wide grin, clapping his hand on my shoulder. I uttered a small chuckle, a little embarrassed.
“I see you have met Darrel. Come on, you need to meet everyone else. Grab a plate, and then join us over there.” Charles said as he pointed to the table with the two lady-doctors.
I nodded and quickly seized a plate and looked over the food. Oh, oh thank the maker. Fried chicken, green beans, rice, mashed potatoes, brownies. In a tray full of ice sat Dr. Peppers, Pepsis and bottled waters. I grabbed a bit of everything, took a Pepsi and sat down between Charles and one of the women, a pretty Asian.
“Guys,” Charles said as I seated myself, “this is Isaac, the new guy. Isaac, that’s Jackson, and that’s Natalie.”
“Hi,” Jackson said cheerfully.
Natalie gave a grunt of acknowledgement as she sipped her water.
“And I believe you’ve already met Deral.”
I nodded and smiled as he slapped me on the back with a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he assured me, “I do that to all the new guys.”
“You do a very good imitation.” I said meekly as I cut a piece of chicken off a drumstick.
“Well, since “The Green Mile” is one of the few movies we have here, it comes naturally.”
I nodded a little, thoughtfully chewing. Well, everyone seems nice here. I suppose…this isn’t so bad, right? Maybe it doesn’t suck. I suddenly felt better. Things were looking up.
“So where are you from?” asked Jackson.
I finished my mouthful of green beans and replied, “Dallas, Texas. It’s a pretty big city, but also has a small town feel to it. It’s weird.”
“Is that where your president, JFK, is it? Is that where he was killed?” Charles asked.
“Yeah, by Lee Harvey Oswald. The museum is pretty cool, they re-created the sniper perch. I went there when I was fifteen, I enjoyed it…so, Jackson, where are you from, may I ask?”
“Both my parents were born in Vietnam. They had my brother over there. Two years before I was born, they moved to America, lived in Iowa. That’s why they gave me an American name.”
“In case you’re wondering, I’m a Brit. Grew up in a little village outside of London.” said Charles, mildly sardonic. “And Darrel is a South Carolinian. Am I right?”
He nodded, a proud smile on his face.
“And what about you, Natalie?” I asked.
She stared at me for a second, then set her bottled water down. “Russia. Moscow, to be precise. Born there, raised there. Want to know anything else? Perhaps out social security numbers?”
I shot a glance at Charles, who simply shrugged.
“Hey, Chuck, who’s the newbie?”
Charles’ features instantly hardened, his eyes set looking over my shoulder. I turned in my seat and saw that three of the four men sitting over in the opposite corner were swaggering
towards us.
Unlike the rest of the men, the guy who looked like the ringleader wasn’t wearing a snowy uniform. Instead he had on a white tank-top, desert camo shorts and knee-high tan leather boots. He has a big stupid grin on his oily face, and the front of his crew-cut was greased upwards.
“Kris…” Charles said in a warning tone. “Do not…”
“What?” the soldier said, leaning next to my ear. “I just want to know his name. What is it? Huh?”
We sat in silence, Jackson fiddling with a spoonful of rice, Darrel chewing on a piece of chicken. Charles just angrily stared at the guy named Kris.
“Oh, quiet. How hurtful. Come on, what is it? Is it Wussy? Are you a wussy?” He flicked the back of my ear. Oh I hate it when people do that. I started to get up, but Natalie beat me to it.
Even though she was a bit shorter than myself, she was pretty intimidating. I noticed that underneath her pristine white lab coat she wore a black turtleneck and blue jeans. Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that she was the casual-wear type of person.
Any and all criticism is welcome. Thank you!
|
Printable Version
Icon Legend
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread
