The Deep Beneath (6 page)

H.A.L.F. 9 had jumped as high as he could and missed the rung by a few inches. He sprang into the air again and again, but each time he failed to grab hold. A few times his fingertips grazed the metal bar, but he was unable to grasp on. He knew he didn’t have much time. After the last time he saw Dr. Randall, guards commenced nightly bed checks once per hour throughout the night. It had been nearly an hour since his last bed check.

The bright, almost effervescent feeling within him faded. All he had to do was jump a few inches higher and he would be able to climb the iron ladder to freedom. But his legs were weak from disuse and the sedating humidity. H.A.L.F. 9 could not recall ever feeling the need to let water drip from his eyes, but a water droplet formed at the corner of his eye now. He sat on the cold, bare stone and was about to let the water droplet flow down his cheek when it happened.

A chill ran up his spine. His fingers and toes tingled. Every centimeter of his skin prickled. The sedation was wearing off. The corridor of stone was not filled with the artificial humidity as was the H.A.L.F. wing in A.H.D.N.A. His senses awoke.

H.A.L.F. 9 rose to his feet, breathed deeply and filled his lungs with the dry air. With each breath his head was clearer, his senses became more alert, his body stronger.

He jumped again, and this time touched the metal bar but was unable to grab hold. He stood firm, breathed deeply for a few breaths more, bent his legs and launched himself up. He grabbed the bar and hoisted his other hand up as well. He reached and found the next rung and the one after that. Finally, his feet scrambled up and found purchase on the bottom rung. He climbed and climbed until he was in the desert. He did not stop to take stock or to consider his surroundings. He knew only to run for his life, so he did.

And H.A.L.F. 9 was running now. He ran in a northerly direction as fast as his legs could take him. He should have been tired, but the adrenaline kept him awake and aware.

Aware that for the first time in his seventeen years, he was free. Aware that the dry desert air had cleared his senses as they had never been cleared before. Aware that though he had tested his abilities on a small, hapless creature, there was a big difference between a snake and the small army of men that Commander Sturgis would send after him.

And aware that for the first time in his life, he was happy.

Erika did not want to see her two best friends killed. She closed her eyes tightly while she prayed for a miracle. She would have closed her ears too if she could. She waited to hear the gun blast, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was only a loud thud as if someone had fallen to the earth.

She opened her eyes. Ian stood a few feet away, his hair mussed, eyes wide and brows drawn together. Joe still held her tightly, but Nacho lay on the ground. If Jack was down and neither Ian, Erika nor Joe had shot Nacho, then why was he lying in a heap on the desert floor?

Joe loosened his grip on her. Her wrists were now free but throbbed where Joe had pinched and twisted them. Erika spun around and backed away from him. Joe’s hands were at his neck, his eyes bulging. His body jerked and he grasped at his throat as if he were trying to pull at a rope or cord. But there was nothing around his neck.

Is he having a seizure or something?

Ian looked as baffled as she was. No one was touching Joe, yet he appeared to battle against someone choking him. Erika didn’t know who or what had a grip on Joe, but there were already two bodies on the ground. She didn’t want to see another.

“Stop!” she screamed. As vile as Joe was, she’d get more satisfaction from seeing him rot in jail than die.

Joe panted for air as he fell to the ground. Though he no longer tore at his neck, he didn’t seem to be able to get up. He strained with an effort to rise, but he stayed down.

“Look, whoever you are, don’t kill him,” Erika said.

“Why the hell not?” screamed Ian. “They shot Jack. He was going to rape you and traffic you across the border. He deserves to die.”

“No one deserves to die,” she said. Erika didn’t wait for Ian to counterargue. She searched the ground for Jack as best she could in the dim light. Ian did the same.

Ian yelled, “He’s over here.”

She ran to the place where Ian stood, and she knelt beside the motionless body of Jack. He lay face down. Erika turned him over and felt his neck. A pulse.
Thank God, Jack’s alive.
Her eyes roved over Jack’s body as her hands felt for a wound. “He was shot in the left shoulder.” Her hands were wet with his blood.

“Is he –?”

“Alive? Yes. But there’s a lot of blood.” She held up her hand for Ian to see. The smell of the sticky liquid brought a wave of nausea. “Help me get him up. We’ve got to get him to the car and –”

A rustling sound in the brush interrupted their conversation. Erika turned in the direction of the noise and a shadowy figure emerged from the weeds. Her hands and legs had almost stopped shaking, but the appearance of yet another stranger, intentions unknown, caused her to quake again.

The stranger stood at the edge of the brush that surrounded their party spot. Erika estimated his height at around five foot six. He was thin and so pale that his skin looked almost white in the moonlight. She could see nothing of his face. He had taken Nacho’s cowboy hat, and the shadow made by the wide brim obscured his visage. In fact, it looked as if the stranger had taken all of the dead Nacho’s clothes. Nacho was small, but the dead man’s clothes hung loosely on the stranger’s frame. Erika glanced back at Nacho’s body and he was indeed naked. How the stranger accomplished stripping the dead man so quickly, Erika did not know. A shiver ran up her spine.

Though Erika could not see his eyes, she knew he stared at her. Her stomach, already a bubbling cauldron, churned with acid. Sweat poured from her pits. Whoever – whatever – he was, apparently he was the one to thank for her rescue. But he was also the one who killed Nacho and who appeared to be holding Joe pinned to the ground though he didn’t touch him. Erika didn’t know whether she should thank him or run as fast as she could from him.

“I don’t know who you are, but it’s not right to go around killing people. We have laws and police and jails to take care of filth like this.”

The strange guy in the hat far too big for him said nothing.

She turned to Ian, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Look, our friend Jack has been shot,” Ian said. “We’ve got to get help for him.”

“Yeah, so let this scumbag go and we’re going to leave. Okay?” said Erika.

The stranger said nothing in response, but Joe began taking large gulps of air. He sounded like a drowning man that had been pulled from the water.

Joe staggered to his feet. He should have thanked Erika and God and run into the desert, happy he still had a skin in which to live. Instead, he stood in a fighting stance. “Look, you little turd, I don’t know what kind of crap you pullin’, but this here’s my territory, and I ain’t givin’ it up to a little piece of –”

Joe’s threats were cut off by a sudden gust of wind and the sound of helicopter blades slicing the air above them. A large, black helicopter descended from the sky about twenty feet away from them. The copter turned on its bright, white searchlights and hovered about two feet off of the ground. Men dressed in dark camouflage poured out of the copter’s open doors.

Erika had been as fearful of Joe and Nacho as she had ever been of anything. But when men armed with rifles poured out of the copter, she experienced an additional level of fear that had lain dormant within her. It took every ounce of courage she had left in her to keep herself from turning into a hiccupping, sniveling mass of wailing tears.

“Remember, don’t shoot 9,” one man yelled.

Men carrying automatic weapons surrounded them on three sides. Joe put his arms up.

Looks like he’s used to having guns pointed at him.

“Don’t shoot,” Ian said. “That guy’s not with us.” Ian pointed at Joe. “And we don’t have drugs or anything. We were out here talking, that’s all.”

The men didn’t shoot, but they didn’t back off either. They stood with their guns pointed and didn’t say a word.

The helicopter touched down and another person emerged. She walked slowly through the desert scrub. Her blonde hair was in an upswept do, pinned to the back of her head. She was thin and tall, at least three inches taller than Erika. The woman was dressed in a dark-colored suit and wore pumps.
Not very practical clothes for traipsing around the desert.
The whirling rotors of the helicopter blades created a wind that threatened to blow the woman’s hair out of the twist that bound it so tightly.

“Oh, H.A.L.F. 9, look what a mess you’ve made here,” she said.

The woman spoke in the kind of high, singsong tone a parent might use with a small child. But her eyes were filled with anger, not patience and love.

The man – or was it a boy – the woman had called H.AL.F. 9 looked down at the two bodies that lay on the ground. He moved his head to the left and to the right, taking in the men surrounding them with guns drawn.

“Poor 9. I take full blame. You’ve been so lonely with Dr. Randall gone. I should have seen it. I should have spent more time with you. But, dear, you do not belong out here. You see that now, don’t you? You do not fit into their world. It’s dangerous out here for a H.A.L.F. like you. And you are a danger to them.” She gestured to the bodies lying on the ground.

“You’ve had your adventure, but it’s time for you to come home.” The woman held her hand out to him.

H.A.L.F. 9 looked at Erika, then to the woman who had come out of the helicopter. He glanced down at the dead body of Nacho with a blank expression as if the dead man on the ground was no more notable than a rock or clump of dirt.

“Come back home where you belong. You don’t know how to control it. What if you accidentally kill someone? Maybe someone you care about.”

H.A.L.F. 9 stared at Erika, but all other eyes were on him. The desert was swollen with anticipation. Finally, he slowly placed his hand in the woman’s, and she walked with him back to the helicopter.

Erika didn’t know why, but she was disappointed when 9 put his hand in that woman’s. Her head reeled trying to take in all that was going on around her. While she didn’t know who or what H.A.L.F. 9 was exactly, she did not like the looks of the blonde woman. She wanted to shout out to him, ‘Stop!’ But with a half-dozen guns trained on her, she thought better of it. Whatever he was, 9 was apparently in deep trouble. Erika was not inclined to get involved in other people’s crap. She had enough of her own to deal with.

“What do you want us to do with these guys, Commander Sturgis?” asked one of the soldiers. He gestured with his rifle to the three of them still standing with their hands in the air.

“A shame they got mixed up in this. But when you go wandering around at night in a restricted military zone … Well, you’re taking a bit of a risk, aren’t you? We can’t have people roaming around who have seen 9. Make them disappear. And I mean no trace, gentlemen.” Commander Sturgis turned back to the helicopter and continued walking.

H.A.L.F. 9 pulled his hand from hers and stood still and defiant. He looked back toward Erika.

Erika didn’t bother holding back her tears. She was going to die, and it was no use acting brave about it. She’d never take that ride east to the ocean as she’d planned. She’d never learn how to love Jack as easily and well as Jack loved her. And she’d never see her mom again. The woman was a pitiful drunk and more of a pain in Erika’s butt than the nurturing mother that she needed. But Erika loved her despite her faults. And she’d never given up hope that someday her mom would stop mourning the loss of her husband at the bottom of a gin bottle and become the mom Erika wanted – needed – her to be.

In the dark, with one swollen eye and both filled with tears, Erika could not see H.A.L.F. 9’s eyes. But she felt him looking into hers.

When H.A.L.F. 9 had pinned Joe to the ground, he stared unwaveringly at Joe. Now H.AL.F. 9 stared at her.
Is he going to do that woman’s bidding and strangle me with an invisible rope?
Erika’s body went rigid as she braced herself for the struggle against death she assumed was coming.

But Erika did not choke or feel pain. Instead, the soldiers surrounding them began to fall, one by one, to their knees. All of them gasped for air. Just as she had seen Joe do, the men grasped at their throats as if to pull away invisible cords around their necks.

Commander Sturgis turned back. “I did not command you to kill them, 9. I order you to release my men.” The commander may have been trying to sound authoritative, but her voice had become higher and a bit too shrill to portray much authority. H.A.L.F. 9 did not move, and the men continued to thrash on the ground and gulp for air.

What is he?
H.A.L.F. 9’s skin was so smooth and expressionless. It looked as if it were molded of plastic.
Is he a robot? A cyborg?

Erika reached for Ian, and his hand was as clammy and shaky as hers. She looked up at him, and his face was almost as pale as the stranger’s face. She’d never seen Ian so afraid. He pulled her closer to him, and she was glad to feel him next to her. Each of them was powerless to save the other, but having his large hand wrapped around hers eased her fear a bit. At least if they died, they’d go down together.

The men rasped and choked, and a few tried to scream for mercy, but H.A.L.F. 9 was unmoved by their pleas. It seemed to Erika as though he was a machine inside a humanoid body. As devoid of emotion as her cell phone was.

Despite the fact that the soldiers writhing on the ground were the possible agents of her destruction, it sickened her to watch them die. He had spared Joe when she asked him to. Perhaps he would spare these men too.

“Stop it, H.A.L.F. 9,” Erika said. She tried to sound calm and in command, but her voice came out squeaky.

H.A.L.F. 9 looked to Erika. He did not move or speak. But there was an apparent easing of pressure as the men gulped in breaths of air.

“I can kill them all, Commander,” H.A.L.F. 9 said.