Ship of the Damned (8 page)

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Authors: James F. David

BOOK: Ship of the Damned
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“We sent our own Special in on the last attempt,” Woolman said.
This was new, and Jett’s heart picked up its pace ever so slightly.
“As we expected, his abilities were magnified inside Pot of Gold, but there were too many Specials for him to deal with. They pounded him senseless and then turned him into a human candle and threw him out when we opened a door.”
“The one who made it out was your Special?” Jett said.
“He’s not dead,” Woolman said. “They burned him as a warning to us.”
Jett’s heart thumped a little faster—he was beginning to feel the way he did when he faced a Special.
“He’s willing to go back,” Woolman said.
“After what they did to him?”
“He’s insane, of course,” Woolman said.
In Jett’s line of work, insanity didn’t necessarily disqualify you.
“If he couldn’t handle them before, what will be different this time?” Jett asked.
“Two things,” Woolman said. “Dr. Lee, tell him about the weapons.”
Dr. Lee took off his glasses and cleaned them with a tissue while he spoke, still smiling. “We learned from the agent who survived that the team’s weapons didn’t work inside Pot of Gold. We know that time is slowed inside and we now believe that certain chemical reactions are impossible. Specifically, rapid reactions.”
“Like the explosive kind necessary for a gun to fire,” Jett said.
“Exactly,” Dr. Lee said. “For a bomb, too. That’s why we have to send a team in. Don’t worry, we have a solution.”
Jett never worried, but he was wondering.
“We’ve developed a weapon powered by compressed gas.”
“Pellet guns?” Jett asked skeptically.
“Not a toy, Mr. Jett.” Dr. Lee said.
He finished with his glasses and put them back on.
“The gas charge doesn’t have the power of gun powder, but we’ve compensated by using prefragmented Teflon-coated bullets. The reduction in propellant power is compensated for by improved penetration. You don’t have quite the range and power of a nine millimeter, but in the confined spaces of Pot of Gold the weapons should be sufficient.”
“You said there were two things different about this insertion into Pot of Gold.”
“We have a contact in the Kellum Foundation,” Dr. Lee said, “which specializes in funding nontraditional research—research the National Science Foundation wouldn’t touch. Some of the research has dealt with the paranormal. They recently funded a project that turned up the most powerful
Special we’ve ever run across this side of Pot of Gold. He killed several people—psychokinetic, unheard of ability, at least the equal of those in Pot of Gold. Unfortunately, he was killed.”
Dr. Lee’s smile broadened, and Woolman’s fingers began drumming again, telling Jett that the important part of the story was still to come.
“There are several peculiarities surrounding that incident,” Dr. Lee said. “For one, there was a report of a man who was immune to the abilities of the Special. We have eyewitnesses who claim that while others were bowled over like tenpins from the Special’s psychokinetic powers, this man walked right up to the Special and was able to hold him.”
“Immunity to psi forces?” Jett asked.
“The Special’s psychokinetic powers worked on everyone but this one man. Think of it as another kind of talent,” Dr. Lee said.
“He could be useful,” Jett said. “Does he have the necessary skills? Weapons training? Hand-to-hand combat?”
Dr. Lee kept his smile, but looked uncomfortable and deferred to Woolman.
“He has no training,” Woolman said, fingers drumming.
“That’s a limitation,” Jett said.
“It’s worse than that,” Woolman said. “He’s retarded.”
A
nita was seven and Pollyanaish. Polite, outgoing, cheerful, she was a child even Wes was comfortable with. She wore her brown hair in pigtails and was missing two front teeth, giving her the classic seven-year-old smile. Still, her eyes were dark hollows, telling of her severe sleep disturbance. She sat on the edge of her sofa wearing shorts and a pink tee-shirt with two white rabbits on the front, hands in her lap. Her mother, Shirley Andrews, sat next to Anita. She was a larger version of the daughter, sharing her clear skin, fine facial features, and long, thin arms and legs. Anita’s mother watched Wes, feeling that his coming represented new hope. He felt as if he was raising her hopes under false pretenses.
“Do you like rabbits?” Elizabeth asked.
Nodding her head yes, Anita said, “Bunnies are the softest animal in the whole world and when I get better I’m gonna get one.” Then the little girl looked to her mother, who confirmed the promised rabbit with a nod. “I’ve got bunny hair things, too,” she said, turning her head so they could see her pigtails held with bands that wrapped around pink bunnies. “I’ve got bunny earrings, too, but I can’t get my ears pierced until I’m twelve.”
“Very sensible,” Elizabeth said.
“I can only get one hole in each ear, too,” Anita said.
“I see,” Elizabeth said.
“My friend Keri has her ears pierced.”
“Does she have bunny earrings?” Elizabeth asked.
“No. Just little gold balls.”
“I’m wearing hoops,” Elizabeth said, leaning forward and showing Anita her earrings.
“I think I’m wearing roses,” Monica said. “I can’t remember, though. What are they?” she asked, leaning forward so Anita could see.
“Ooh, little flowers. I like those,” Anita said, “but I like bunnies better.”
Wes sat quietly through the small talk, waiting for Elizabeth and Monica to establish a relationship with the little girl. He knew it was the right approach, but disliked the inefficiency. If he had come alone he would have asked about the dream immediately, and probably frightened the little girl into silence. He had always been all business—efficient and machinelike, generating publications and pulling in grants, always on the cutting edge of neuroscience. Totally left brain, logic and rationality, his interpersonal skills were woefully undeveloped; that made him and Elizabeth an odd couple. The feelings of others were of utmost importance to her, and if a person was comforted or a friend made, it didn’t matter to her if a technical problem went unsolved. In this case, however, helping Anita meant solving a technical problem, and Wes and Elizabeth needed each other. Finally Wes heard them bringing the earring conversation to a close.
“Tell us about the dream,” Monica said.
“I’m on a boat and I can’t get off. I just walk up and down, down and up, up and down. Then I wake up.”
“When you’re on the deck of the ship—you know, outside—what do you see when you look up?” Monica asked.
“Great big cannons,” Anita said.
“Above those, way up in the sky?” Monica said.
Anita turned her head up and closed her eyes.
“Nothing. I don’t see nothing.”
“What do you see when you look over the side of the ship?” Monica asked.
“Nothing,” Anita said. “Just sand.”
“Is there anyone else on the ship?” Monica asked.
“No. Just me.”
“Are there airplanes on this ship?” Elizabeth asked, glancing at Wes.
“Yes, two of them. It’s the kind that has two wings. I forget the name.”
“Biplanes?” Elizabeth suggested, flashing Wes a triumphant smile.
The fact that Anita had seen the airplanes solidified Monica and Elizabeth’s
claim that Margi, Wanda, and Anita were dreaming the same dream; but the peculiarity of finding airplanes on a battleship was yet to be explained, and the fact that they were biplanes was yet another oddity.
“I guess so,” Anita said.
“Is there a mirror on the ship?” Elizabeth asked.
Anita paused, looking at her hands in her lap. Then she reached for a pigtail and put the end in her mouth, sucking on it.
“I dunno. Maybe in the bathroom.”
Wes leaned forward. None of the others had mentioned finding a bathroom.
“There was a mirror in the bathroom?” Elizabeth asked.
“I dunno,” Anita said. “Maybe. I can’t see that high.”
“Okay, Anita. You said there was no way off the ship. Have you ever thought of jumping over the side?” Monica asked.
Anita’s mother reached over and took the pigtail out of the little girl’s mouth. Unconsciously, Anita’s right hand put her other pigtail in.
“It’s pretty far,” Anita said.
“It’s only a dream,” Monica said. “You wouldn’t get hurt.”
“If I jump will the dream go away?” Anita wanted to know.
Monica looked to Wes and Elizabeth, then said, “No, but it might help us figure out a way to stop the dream.”
Anita put her head down and said, “I’d be too scared.”
Elizabeth walked over and sat next to her on the sofa. With her arm around Anita’s shoulders, she said, “Would you be too scared if I went with you?”
Anita looked up, hopeful but confused.
“Jump off the ship with me?” Anita said. “You’ll be in my dream?”
“Yes, I’ll jump with you,” Elizabeth said, looking at Wes.
“I don’t know,” Wes started, remembering the disaster that had resulted the last time he integrated multiple minds. Then he saw Anita and her mother staring at him, the mother’s eyes pleading, the little girl’s hopeful look coming from eyes that hadn’t had a normal night’s rest in months.
“All right, we’ll try,” he said.
Elizabeth smiled triumphantly.
With her mother’s permission, Anita spent the night in the university’s sleep lab, wearing a nightgown covered with pink bunnies and one of Wes’s scalp caps while her brain waves were broadcast through fiber optic cables to the computer with the supercooled processor. At the corner of her eyes were tiny sensors that would pick up muscle contractions indicating eye
movement. Len, Wes, and Shamita were at their terminals, Monica looking over Wes’s shoulder. Elizabeth sat on the edge of her cot, scalp cap in place, waiting her turn.
It wasn’t a full mind meld since they needed only to let Anita’s brain dream for both of them, but Wes was nervous, having pushed the envelope of neuroscience before and paid the price for it.
“That’s one tired little girl,” Len said. “Her alpha waves are desynchronizing land we have six cps.”
“Cps?” Monica questioned.
“Cycles per second,” Wes explained. “Alpha waves characterize relaxation. When they slow and desynchronize, you are in light sleep. If Anita follows a normal sleep pattern her brain waves will continue to slow, and then we’ll get sleep spindles—bursts of electrical activity.”
“There we go,” Len said a few minutes later, “our first spindle—fourteen cps.”
Monica left Wes to stand behind Len, who was monitoring Anita while Shamita mapped Elizabeth’s brain.
“I knew I’d interest you eventually,” Len said to Monica.
“Your monitor interests me,” Monica said.
“Yeah. My monitor is bigger than Wes’s.”
“Quiet, you’ll wake Anita,” Shamita scolded.
“I don’t think a bomb would wake that little girl,” Len said, whispering now. “I’ve got fifty percent delta waves at two cps and it looks like she’s cycling back up to light sleep. We should get rapid eye movement any second now.” Then a minute later he said, “I’ve got REM sleep—she’s dreaming.”
Elizabeth lay down, while Wes called up her brain wave pattern, waiting while she settled into a comfortable position. In a minute Len indicated that he had clear physiological readings on both subjects. As usual Shamita took longer, processing more slowly, making fewer errors but using more time.
“Frontal, temporal, parietal, occipital, all clear and nominal,” Shamita said finally.
“Elizabeth, we’re going to put you under now,” Wes told her.
“Ready,” Elizabeth said.
Wes nodded to Shamita, and she began to intercept Elizabeth’s brain waves, filtering out sensory information, convincing the brain that it was falling asleep. Elizabeth was semiconscious, however, able to communicate with those controlling her brain. When Elizabeth was in a state similar to a
hypnotic trance, Wes took control, letting Anita’s brain waves flow into Elizabeth’s brain.
“It will take a minute for your brain to adjust, Elizabeth,” Wes said.
It took five minutes of adjusting parameters, but then Elizabeth’s brain wave pattern was a near-perfect duplicate of Anita’s. They were dreaming the same dream.
E
lizabeth found herself walking down a narrow corridor, Anita in front of her wearing a pink dress and patent leather shoes. The girl’s long hair was combed and curled. She was stepping through an oval doorway, all metal—it was a ship’s hatch, and she had to step up and over a metal flange to pass through.
“Anita, I’m here,” Elizabeth said.
Anita started, turning with wide eyes, mouth open. Elizabeth saw that the pink dress had an embroidered bunny on it, and that Anita had both of her front teeth.
“You scared me,” Anita said, close to crying.
“I’m sorry. I told you I would be with you.”
“Can you come every night? I don’t like it here alone.”
“I’d like to make it so you never have to come here again.”
“Do it, please?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Elizabeth said, taking the little girl’s hand. “That’s a very pretty dress.”
“My grandmother gave it to me.”
Now Elizabeth looked around, noticing the detail of the ship.
“This doesn’t feel like a dream,” Elizabeth said. She slapped a wall, feeling
the impact, but not hearing the “smack” sound. Then she ran her hand along it, feeling the cool of the metal.
“Wes, can you hear me?” Elizabeth said.
“We’re here, Elizabeth,
” Wes said. “
Are you sharing the dream
?”
“Yes. It’s amazing. I’m actually in her dream.”
“Who are you talking to?” Anita asked.
Squeezing her hand, Elizabeth said, “I’m talking to Wes. Wes and Len and Shamita and Monica can hear me when I talk.”
“How come I can’t hear them?”
“Wes, why can’t Anita hear you? She’s asking.”
“
Audition is virtually shut down during dreaming. If we feed it to her it could disrupt the dream.
”
Elizabeth paused, knowing that Wes’s explanation was too complicated for a seven-year-old.
“Wes says your job is to dream and mine is to listen and talk. I’ll tell you everything they say. Except Len’s stupid jokes.”
Anita smiled at that, saying, “I like Len, he’s funny.”
“Okay, if Len tells me any jokes I’ll tell them to you.”
“
Tell us what you’re seeing, Elizabeth,
” Wes said.
“They want to know what I see,” Elizabeth said to Anita. “I’m in a corridor—a ship’s corridor. We’re standing in front of a hatch—oval shaped. There are two hatches in one direction along this corridor and a sealed hatch at the other end. There are two more in the other direction ending in another closed hatch. The detail is amazing. Textured walls, bolts, rivets, the lights in the ceiling are in wire cages. There’s a bell on the wall—like an alarm.”
“What color?”
Wes asked.
“Red,” Elizabeth said.
“Unusual,”
Wes said.
“Is it the wrong color for a ship’s alarm?” Elizabeth asked.
“There shouldn’t be any
color at all,”
Wes said.
“Most
people think they dream in color but
actually it’s rare.”
Elizabeth thought about her own dreams, unsure if they were in color. Certainly there were no bright, high-contrast colors.
“It looks different with you here,” Anita said, pulling on her hand.
“In what way?”
“I can see things better.”
“What do you mean?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Anita said, “I dunno, it just looks different.”
“Tell me if you see anything different that you can point at.”
Anita nodded.
“Can you show me where the bathroom is?”
“Maybe,” Anita said, then turned left.
Elizabeth followed her, noticing that there was no sound, and when they pushed open the next hatch there was no hinge groan. The corridor continued on the other side, and they stepped through the hatch. They were in a long corridor, pipes running above them. At the end of the corridor was a steep ladder. Elizabeth followed Anita up and then along another corridor, pausing at a closed hatch. It had a name plate but there was nothing written on it.
“It’s one of these doors, I think.”
They had seen no one on the ship, but Elizabeth had a growing sense of dread, as if something unexpected could happen at any second. Opening the door, she found two bunks and a small desk. There were blankets on the bed, but they had no edges. Elizabeth looked closely, then ran her hand over one blanket. It had the right feel, but conformed seamlessly to the thin mattress. Now sensitized, she noticed other missing details. Screws were missing slots, the desk had no drawers, and there was nothing on top of it. There were pipes running along the ceiling but no joints or couplings. The lack of detail should have made it feel more dreamlike, but it didn’t.
“Anita, have you been in this room before?”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“You thought this was the bathroom?”
“Sometimes it is.”
“Have you ever seen a room like this one?”
Anita looked around then said, “Yeah, but it didn’t have a bed before.”
Elizabeth urged her to look for the bathroom again. Anita skipped the remaining hatches in the corridor, taking Elizabeth back the way they had come and down the stairs they had climbed. Then the girl turned, leading Elizabeth back in the direction they had come to seemingly the same door, but when she opened it this time there was nothing on the other side but darkness.
“Isn’t this the same room?” Elizabeth asked.
“I dunno. It changes.”
Anita started forward and Elizabeth stopped her.
“What’s in there?” Elizabeth asked.
“The bathroom, maybe.” Anita walked into the room and faded from view.
“Wes, are you still there?” Elizabeth said.
“Of course,”
Wes replied.
“Are Anita’s vital signs normal?”
“
Len says everything’s nominal for Anita,
” Wes said. “
What’s going on?
”
“We’re looking for the bathroom,” Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth stepped through the doorway into the room and suddenly found herself standing on the deck of the ship. Anita was a few steps away, looking over the side.
“There,” Anita said, pointing. “That doesn’t look the same.”
Elizabeth leaned over the side and saw a patch of ground sparsely spotted with sagebrush. It was a small area; a hundred yards away in all directions there was nothing—a wall of nothing. Above her, there was nothing to see but haze. If it hadn’t been gray, she would have called it a whiteout.
“How is it different, Anita?”
“There’s lots more green stuff.”
Looking over the edge, Elizabeth understood why none of the dreamers had ever jumped off. It was a three-story drop to solid ground.
“Are we going to jump, Elizabeth? Are we?”
“Let’s find the bathroom first,” Elizabeth said, not sure now that she could leap.
Turning, Elizabeth got her first full look at the ship, and it was overpowering, like no dream she had ever had. They were midship, looking up at the superstructure. There was a single large funnel with masts fore and aft. A variety of antennae were attached to the masts, as were other structures. There were crow’s nests on both masts. Forward of the funnel was the largest visible structure, at least five stories tall. The bridge would be there, Elizabeth knew. Mounted forward of the bridge were two huge gun emplacements with a smaller gun and turret between the bridge and the first big gun. Smaller gun turrets were to her right and left, and toward the stern was another medium-sized gun and more of the smaller gun turrets. Mounted on the stern were two more of the big guns, and right on the stern Elizabeth could see a biplane mounted on a rail. Over the top of the big gun she could see another biplane on the far side. Never had she seen such a spectacle in her own dreams, yet as she looked closely she could see the lack of detail—the guns closest to her had barrels, but they blended into the steel of the turret where there should have been a joint. There was a life raft mounted to each of the turrets, but no ropes or fasteners holding them on.
“Let’s go, Elizabeth,” Anita said, pulling her hand.
Anita pulled her back through the hatch they had just left and into a corridor which looked exactly like the one Elizabeth had first found herself in. They walked the length of it to another corridor and up another set of
stairs—identical to the ones they had climbed before. A few steps later Anita stood before the same door as before—at least, Elizabeth thought it was the same door.
“It’s usually the bathroom after it’s outside,” Anita said.
It was the bathroom—the head—this time, with a double row of sinks down the middle, toilets along one side, and a steel trough that served as a urinal along the other side. Looking closer, Elizabeth could see that there were no faucet handles, only spouts. The urinal had no drains and the toilets no flush mechanism. Over each sink hung a small frameless mirror.
“It’s different in here too, Elizabeth,” Anita said. “Before there wasn’t no place for the water to come out,” she said, pointing at the sinks.
Elizabeth hesitated, nervous about what she would see in a mirror. Holding Anita’s hand she stepped in and turned to face the closest mirror—she saw nothing.
“
Elizabeth?
” Wes cut in.
“What’s going on? Your heart rate and blood pressure are up.”
“We found the bathroom, Wes. There are mirrors but they don’t reflect.”
“Hold me up,” Anita said. “I want to see too.”
When Elizabeth bent down, she saw something out of the corner of her eye—something in the mirror. Standing again she saw nothing but the glass. Eyes on the mirror, she bent again—she saw nothing. Assuming it was her imagination, she picked Anita up. Anita made faces in the mirror, and Elizabeth smiled. Then Elizabeth saw it again—a flickering face. Abruptly dropping Anita, she quickly looked behind her, but saw only wall.
“What’s the matter, Elizabeth?” Anita said.
Looking back, she stared deep into the glass, but saw nothing. Then she looked just left of the mirror, letting her peripheral vision do the seeing—there was movement. Glancing back, she caught sight of a face—no faces. Were there flickering faces in the mirror? It was a subliminal perception, just below the point at which her conscious mind could be sure.
“Aren’t you going to hold me up?” Anita said.
Elizabeth lifted the little girl again.
“Your heart rate just took another big jump, Elizabeth,
” Wes said.
“I’m just a little nervous. We’re going to go outside now.”
“And jump, Elizabeth?” Anita said. “Are we really gonna jump?”
Elizabeth said yes, but wasn’t sure she would. Anita led them back along the their path and through the same hatch to the outside. They walked to the rail and looked over the edge.
“I’m scared,” Anita said.
“Me too. You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to,” Elizabeth said.
“Hold my hand?” Anita asked.
“I will.”
“Elizabeth, both of your heart rates are up now,”
Wes said.
“We’re getting ready to jump,” Elizabeth said.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. We want to.” Then, to Anita, Elizabeth said, “Are you ready?”
The little girl nodded, looking as if she was about to take her first roller coaster ride. Elizabeth sat on the rail and swung her legs over. Then she helped Anita up next to her, the little girl tucking her pink dress under her legs.
“On three?” Elizabeth said.
“Let’s just go,” Anita said, wiggling forward.
Elizabeth wasn’t ready, but Anita was about to slide off, so she gripped her hand tight and jumped, pulling the little girl with her.
When she was ten, Elizabeth had moved to a two-story house, and every night when she first started dreaming she would find herself standing at the top of the stairs, knowing she had to jump, but too afraid to. Finally, she would get the courage and leap off the top step, floating slowly toward the bottom, always drifting to other dreams as the bottom rose up to meet her. This was like that. She and Anita were falling, but very slowly and in fits and starts. They weren’t picking up speed, and occasionally they paused in midair as if gravity had taken a rest. A fall that should have taken a few seconds took minutes, but about ten feet from the bottom they suddenly lurched and fell in a normal fashion, landing with a very real and jarring thud.
“Are you all right, Anita?” Elizabeth said.

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