Skip to main content

Chapter XXVIII

Marcus awoke bound to a chair in a cold room that shook violently around him. Looking around, he found Agent Two-eyes watching him with the enthusiasm of a man observing mushrooms emerge from a lawn.

“They put us on a transport plane,” Frankie said, his voice indistinct in the cacophony. “A C-130 from the sound of it.”

“You’re alive,” Marcus said.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not the one who voluntarily wrestled a pack of snakes.”

“Ah, they were pussy cats,” Frankie said. “I wouldn’t be in this chair if she hadn’t knocked me out.” His eyes flicked to the side, signifying to Marcus where this agent of sabotage could be found.

Marcus leaned forward as much as his restraints allowed, catching sight of Agent D slumped in her own chair to Frankie’s right. Her eyes were closed but moved fitfully beneath the lids.

“What happened to her?”

“Who knows? Maybe she exhausted herself putting a spell on me, maybe she’s hibernating. I don’t have much experience with witches.”

Marcus leaned back, appraising his situation. If Frankie was correct, then they were most likely in the main cargo bay of the transport, lashed into place well away from the bay door. The rest of the space was filled with boxes, crates, and what appeared to be a large tracked vehicle under a tan tarp.

“Any idea where they are taking us?”

Frankie shook his head.

Marcus rested the back of his head against his chair for a moment. The scene in the snake house replayed in his head. How close was he to pulling the trigger when he found Hugo pressing a gun to LeHaze’s head? Not very close at all. The thought occurred to him that other than his powers, he really wasn’t too cut out for his job.

“The mission was compromised,” Frankie said suddenly. “LeHaze recruited me to take out Agent D.”

The ex-CIA agent breathed out, head dipping down to rest on his chest.

“LeHaze is working for the Anti-Cerebists,” Marucs told him. “Don’t feel bad, she got me too.”

He told Frankie about the situation confronting him in the snake house. He knew that the mission was more important than the life of one agent and yet he couldn’t quite do it. Not and risk her life.

“And when you handed over your weapon?”

Marcus looked away. “Hugo handed it to her and she shot the scientist. That was about the point someone pistol-whipped me.”

The two agents let the drone of the engines fill the emptiness around them. Marcus tested the bonds around his hand, experiencing a sharp twinge as he flexed his broken ring finger. He didn’t think he’d be able to enough leverage another snapped finger but a thought came to him. Maybe he didn’t need to.

“Ah good!” came the voice of Gunther Thulewait from behind and above them. “You are awake.”

“It is a felony to detain and kidnap a federal officer,” Marcus said. “Let us –“

“Let’s not get wrapped up in legalities,” Gunther said. “If you came to my ranch to bring some law and order, you would have flashed a badge and shown me some handcuffs. The fact is, you were at my home to catch bigger game. Well, that game got away. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“Where are you taking us?” Frankie asked.

“Some place very cold,” Gunther said. “Not that you’re going to mind much.”

Three guards walked into view. Each one had a pair of venom tubes screwed into their skull, their faces slack and compliant.

“It’s my great pleasure to inform you, Frankie Goldstein, that the Anti-Cerebrist Coalition has decided to accept your application into our ranks of operatives. Now, we only have one last step to our orientation process. It’s unpleasant but absolutely essential.”

Two of the zombie guards grabbed Frankie’s chair, rocked it backwards, and began dragging the chair out of view, the third guard a step behind. A door opened and shut. Marcus could hear yelling, muffled by the roar of engines and intervening door.

Despite the chill of the cargo bay, Marcus felt sweat begin to pour down his neck.

Gunther walked casually down the steps, coming to stand in front of Agent Shield, thumbs hooked into his belt. “I’m glad we’ll have the chance to talk, Agent Shield. I’d like to offer you different position within our organization, something more like an outside contractor role. There aren’t too many benefits to the job, I’m afraid.”

Gunther paused as a piercing shriek came from the door behind Marcus.

“But at least you don’t have to undergo orientation.”


Link to Next Chapter


Link to First Chapter


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Chapter I

When the light came back on, the room was empty save for a corpse and two baffled agents of Section Starfire, the premier Anarchist Spy Agency employed by the United States government. Two trained pairs of eyes quickly scanned the room and found it devoid of anything worth mentioning besides an old battle-scarred table along one wall and a book shelf against the other and, of course, the body of the man Spaceman had just shot. For his part, Marcus Delacroix, Agent Shield, stood across the room from him, blinking in the sudden light, unable to focus. On the table by his right hand was a squat metal object about the same color and shape as a wheel of cheddar cheese. Instantly recognizing this object, Spaceman allowed himself a rare moment of panic. Pushing past Marcus, Space dashed to the door and tried the handle. Inevitably, it was locked. “Do you know what this is?” said Marcus, slowly regaining his faculties. “Yes,” said Spaceman as he darted

Chapter XLVIII

Spaceman found it very easy to leave the station. His coterie of friends kept growing with each attempt at intervention until a kind of critical mass arrived. Whether or not he was a prisoner, or a Section Starfire agent, or a notorious addict became immaterial. Spaceman lead, and those looking to follow did so. Heading up from the bowels of the engineering deck, they passed by the cryptozoological section. It occurred to Spaceman that his escape would be that much easier if the personnel in the station had something distracting them. A command to Mr. Doubtful cut off the emergency power to the pens, cages, and corrals keeping the cryptids at bay. He figured the result would be a few sasquatch and sea serpents making a break for it. He hoped there were enough penguins in Antarctica to feed a new population of Big Feet. Big Foots? Spaceman chuckled to himself, bummed a cigarette from another engineer and directed his followers upwards. By the time they reached the main exit, the station

Epilogue

Imagine a space of incredible volume. Now place within its center an enormous ball of hydrogen and helium, collapsing against its own fiery detonation. Imagine a fireball so big that the force of its own illumination prevents light from its center from escaping for millions of years. Now picture the left-over bits from the star’s ignition spinning around in orbit, slowly accreting together over a staggering length of time. This is the stage. This where all of the acts appear, lit from this ancient fiery torch. This where all of the tragedies and comedies that have ever happened and will ever happen, happen. Are you getting the hang of it? Can you see this place, this domain? For as long as there are people and intelligences able to record impressions and ideas, this will be the only home of anyone who reads these words. But don’t feel so bad. The solar system is a big place and perhaps bigger than most might know. For within this enormous system, the