41
Monday, February 4, 1963 – 1:14:52 a.m.
On the edge of the Bermuda Triangle in the Florida Straits
The roaring of rough seas and the overbearing darkness of early morning prevented the crew of the SS Marine Sulphur Queen from seeing the seven-foot bubble appearing on the weather deck near the bow. Just seconds before 1:15 a.m. on February 4, 1963, darkness was enveloping the 504 foot long tanker as it made its’ way toward Norfolk, Virginia carrying its’ load of molten sulphur. Then, at 1:15 a.m. precisely, a bubble, appearing first violet, and then gradually changing in color from blue to green, then to yellow and finally to red, appeared on the tanker’s bow two feet off of the ground and seven feet in diameter. The color change occurred quickly, lasting no more than 15 seconds until it reached its’ final shimmering glow of blood red.
A few seconds later, a man stumbled out of this strange bubble and collapsed on the deck due to the yawing and rolling of the huge ship and because he was dazed, confused, and in pain. The bubble behind him began to shrink as if deflated and then suddenly disappeared without a sound. No evidence of its’ existence remained other than the fact that Slick was now aboard the SS Marine Sulphur Queen tanker headed for Norfolk, Virginia in the early morning hours.
Slick clambered to his hands and knees and attempted to keep his balance as the ship continued to roll. Howling winds from the north continued to buffet the ship with gusts between 25 and 46 knots. The northerly seas had waves with a height of some 16 feet that were slightly abaft of the vessel’s port beam. Slick tried to clear his head. He remembered being here before, but he also remembered having had a fight with Spike. A gust of wind knocked Slick over and he rolled onto his side. Crying out in pain, Slick grabbed the side of his chest and winced. In so doing, he also felt the cracked control box for his Bubble Chamber strapped to his waist. Feeling around in the dark, Slick realized that part of the plastic casing was missing and his fingers were fumbling around inside the box. To his horror, he could feel the intricate circuitry that made up the brains of his Bubble Chamber. Not only was it broken open, it was now full of salt water. That combination was deadly. Slick knew that the control box was beyond repair having been damaged in the fight with Spike and now having been shorted out by the inundation of water from the sea.
Slick’s mind began to clear. Scooting closer to the side of the tanker, Slick was able to position himself in such a way that he wouldn’t be sliding all over the deck while the ship rolled back and forth and rose up and down in the storm. The last time he was here, he’d been able to collect several containers of water needed for his cocktail and then he had left without incidence. Of course, he wasn’t hurt then and had the ability to keep his balance and his senses as the storm raged around him. Now, he didn’t know what he was going to do. For one thing, this was not where he’d planned to travel in time to. For another, without his Bubble Chamber, he was stuck in 1963. Thirdly, Slick knew from the research he’d done that at 1:25 a.m. today, which, according to his watch was in eight minutes, the last known personal radio message would be sent out by a crew member of the SS Marine Sulphur Queen and would be received by RCA radio. After that, no other messages would ever be transmitted. He also knew that the ship would never dock in Norfolk, Virginia as planned. In fact, the ship would go down in history as another victim of the Bermuda Triangle.
Slick’s heart raced at this potential end to his life. After all that he’d done, after all he’d invented and discovered, was this how it would all end? Cold sweat broke out on his body. An intense fear and panic rose clambered in his body and mind. There had to be something he could do to get off this ship. Quickly, Slick removed the control box from his waist. Removing a flashlight from his pocket, he turned it on and shined it into the damaged box. Water sloshed out of it as the ship rolled once again. Bracing himself with his feet, Slick pulled his coat over his head to keep as much wind and water out of the box. Looking inside, Slick could see two broken wires as well as a cracked circuit board. Most of the other components appeared to be okay, but everything was wet. Quickly removing the cover, Slick used the inside of his coat to dry out the interior to the best of his ability. Then, he pressed the circuit board together in hopes that all the points where the crack was would be close enough together so that the flow of electrons would be unimpeded. He now took the two wires and carefully touched them to the appropriate contact points. A gust of wind and water shook him and he lost his hold on one of the wires. Cursing, he grabbed it again and touched it to the board. Since the voltage was low, it wouldn’t matter if he were holding them when he energized the circuit. Still, he needed to be sure to hold them tight and hope that the circuit board was holding together enough to make contact.
Once everything was in place, Slick carefully reached up and punched a few buttons on the front panel. The LCD came to life and several numbers scrolled across the screen. Slick realized that he had no control over where or when he would go in time, but he felt that anything was better than dying here in the middle of the Atlantic in the Bermuda Triangle. History had been written and the SS Marine Sulphur Queen disappeared on this very night. None of the crew had ever been found. In fact, the Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard and Marine Corps together covered some 348,400 square miles with negative results. Eventually, after several weeks of searching, the only evidence that the SS Marine Sulphur Queen ever existed was the recovery of a few items from the tanker. As far a Slick could remember, those items included eight life jackets, five life rings, two name boards, one shirt, one piece of an oar, one gasoline can, one storm oil can, one cone buoy and one fog horn. Slick shuddered to think that he might be part of this horrendous loss. He definitely didn’t’ want to be stuck here. Refocusing on his task, Slick prepared to press the “Enter” key. He realized that his destination would be very random because of the damaged unit. Still, it beat dying here.
Taking a deep breath, Slick glanced once more at his watch. The backlight lit the face enough that he could see the time. It read 1:25 a.m. The last recorded transmission from this vessel was now being made. Slick pressed the “Enter” key. The bubble began to appear. It wasn’t as smooth and clearly defined as before. It flickered like a dying fluorescent bulb, fading in and out as it tried to solidify into a stable sphere. Slick was inside of it since the control unit projected a beam that formed the sphere inside which Slick would travel. The sphere solidified enough to become stable. Slick carefully hit “Enter” once more, moving his fingers deftly so as not to disrupt the wiring or circuit board. The transference coordinates were activated and Slick disappeared into time as the colors of the bubble ran the gamut from red to violet and then blinked out of existence.
As Slick traveled through time, his perception of movement from one place to another was negligible. Once the bubble blinked out of existence in one place and reappeared in another, the time factor for Slick was instantaneous. It was as if he’d blinked his eyes. In one instance, the deck of the SS Marine Sulphur Queen disappeared from his sight and in the next instance, he was standing in the corner of a square room. Looking around him, he had no idea where he was. Glancing at the LCD on his control unit, Slick noted that the numbers were still scrolling so it was impossible for him to determine where he was. Slick began to walk around the room trying to determine his location. Slick’s walking jarred the control unit and the numerals blinked off the screen. Slick tried to jiggle the circuit board enough to make contact, but it was no use. This final jump through time had done more damage to the unit and now it was useless. Unless Slick could find components for his machine, he would be stuck here, wherever here was.
Slick wandered around the room for two, maybe three hours trying to find a way out. A large metal door was placed in one wall. In the middle of the room sat a large, flat, stainless steel table. Protruding from the top and bottom were stainless steel extensions fitted with straps. Next to the large table was a small table upon which sat cotton swabs, vials, canisters, isopropyl alcohol and several needles and syringes. Slick examined them, but nothing was labeled so he had no idea what they were for. Perhaps he was in some lab somewhere. Worse yet, he could be in a torture chamber in some dark, uncivilized country in a time that he would never have traveled to intentionally. Slick examined the room from top to bottom, checking the walls, the door and everything in between. It appeared to be locked up tight. Sitting down in the farthest corner from the door, Slick began to think about his predicament. Seconds later the large metal door burst open and two police officers from the military walked in and stepped to the side flanking both sides of the door. Behind them came two 1arge men dressed in all black leading another man with a hood over his head. Slick sat perfectly still in the shadows of the corner of the room. The MP’s exited the room leaving the four men inside. Slick watched with intrigue and fear as the black clothed men strapped the hooded man to the table. The man squirmed and kicked, but he was no match for the strength of these two. Muffled sounds of panic emanated from underneath the hood. A fifth strap was placed across his head and a sixth across his chin. Then, one of the behemoths ripped the hood from his head while the other cinched the fifth and sixth straps tight. Slick gasped in horror. Lying on the table was a man that looked exactly like himself.
When Slick gasped, it drew the attention of the two monsters standing next to Slick on the table. Looking at each other with bewildered expressions, they looked back at Slick in the corner and then down again at Slick on the table. Slick in the corner, realized he was in trouble. Attempting to escape, he scrambled to his feet and began to run. He crossed the room all the time trying to keep Slick on the table between himself and the two black tormentors. Moving in perfect harmony, the two well-trained black-clad men approached Slick from both sides trapping him in the corner by the door. Slick attempted to fight, but was no match for these two monsters. Pinning his arms behind him, they secured his hands and pushed him to the floor. Slick on the table, watched wide-eyed as he saw Slick on the floor being secured and shoved against the wall. The two men then mumbled something to each other and one of them opened the door. Speaking in a hushed voice, he talked with the MP, whom Slick recognized as belonging to the United States military. The MP nodded his head and left. A few minutes later, another man returned with the MP and entered the room.
This newest addition to the room stood about five foot eleven and was well built. He had a face like stone; the kind of face that one would think might break if he smiled. His hair was neatly combed to the side and his eyes were a dark green. He appeared to be in his 50’s. He worn a uniform that indicated he was a high-ranking officer in the military. Slick had never seen this kind of uniform before. The man carried a weapon on his side, but it wasn’t a gun. It looked more like a modified Billy Club. Slick noticed too that the MP’s wore the same type of weapons, if in fact they were weapons. The man looked down at Slick on the floor with his penetrating green eyes and then back again at Slick on the table. Finally, he spoke.
“Who are you?” His voice was deep and hypnotizing.
Slick just stared, not saying anything.
“I asked you a question. Who are you?”
Slick looked at him and then at himself on the table. “I’m him,” he said pointing at himself on the table.
“I’m not here to listen to some smart mouth. Who are you and how did you get in here?”
Slick realized what must have happened. Because of the damage to his Bubble Chamber’s control unit, when he’d traveled through time, just before reappearing here in this place, a glitch, perhaps due to a slight movement of the cracked circuit board or the wire, had caused a momentary time-split. It didn’t need to last more than a few thousandths of a second, but it was enough to cause Slick to appear in two places at once. Since he was so close to reappearing in the current time, he had appeared in two places, but not very far apart. Had this glitch occurred earlier in the transference phase, then Slick may have appeared in two places of the same time, but much farther apart. Conceivably, he could appear, say, in 1980 but hundreds of miles apart. Neither one would know about the other although only one would have the control unit to the Bubble Chamber. The other would know of its’ existence, but would have no idea where the control unit had disappeared to. Unless they ever met, one would stay in that time forever while the other could continue to travel. It was one of those strange paradoxes about time travel that scientists had quibbled over for years. Slick knew that trying to explain what had happened would do him no good. He felt that saying nothing might be the best policy.
Grabbing him by the shirt, the large green-eyed man lifted Slick off the floor with ease. Slick was impressed since he himself wasn’t small by any means. Shoving him against the wall, the green-eyed man spoke again through clenched teeth.
“I’m not here to play games. This is your last chance. Who are you and where did you come from?”’
Slick said nothing. A sudden blow to the stomach doubled Slick over. At the same time, his control unit was knocked from his waist and fell to the floor.
“What’s this?” the man asked, reaching down to pick it up.
Slick slumped to the floor gasping for breath. Picking up the unit, the man eyed it suspiciously.
“I said what’s this?” Slick looked up at him through watery eyes. Still silent, he let his head drop back down to his knees.
“So, you don’t want to talk huh? Well, we can make you talk just as we made your twin over there talk earlier. He was outside snooping around when we found him. He told us some cockamamie story about traveling through time or something like that and that he ended up here on accident. Is that going to be your story too?”
Slick on the floor realized that Slick on the table knew exactly what had happened. When he had seen Slick on the floor appear out of the shadows, the expression on his face indicated that he recognized the glitch that had occurred. Of course, if Slick on the floor were to say anything remotely similar to Slick on the table, he’d be put into the same predicament as he saw Slick on the table being put through. Slick on the floor knew that he’d have to act as if he didn’t know anything and hope it would get him out of here.
Slick on the floor decided he’d better speak. “I don’t know anything about time travel or whatever it is he said.”
Slick on the table looked at him with wide eyes. Grunting behind the gag that was in his mouth, he attempted to get Slick on the floor to look at him and confirm his story. Squirming against his restraints, he continued to cause a commotion until one of the men in black slapped him across the face and told him to shut up. Tears of pain trickled down his face. In desperation, he looked at Slick on the floor.
“Well then, how did you get in here? What are you doing here?”
“I’m a doctor. I was walking by outside this room and the door was open. I noticed the medical paraphernalia on the table and stopped to see what was going on. Without realizing it, someone shut the door before I was able to get out.”
“Why were you here in the first place? I mean, why here in this facility? And what business do you have here as a doctor? I wasn’t told anything about any doctor.” The man’s green eyes looked at Slick with intimidation gleaming in them.
Playing on the man’s skepticism and lack of knowledge about the goings on in whatever facility this was, Slick decided to take his chances as he weaved himself into a probable and realistic story about why he was here.
“This entire facility and its mission is top secret, right?”
The green-eyed man tensed when Slick asked this question and he suspiciously eyed the two men in black. Both of them shrugged their shoulders as if to say they had no idea how he found out.
Looking back at Slick, the man said, “Yes, it’s top secret, but we all know that. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well,” Slick began, “I was also hired by the United States government to work undercover. I was sent here yesterday to check on the results of these experiments you’ve been performing. That’s why I was wandering around checking out the facilities. I was trying to get my bearings to see what was going on and where things were.”
“So why didn’t they notify me of this? I am in charge.”
“It was supposed to be kept secret from everyone, kind of a ‘check on what’s happening and report back to us’ mission. The less people that know, the better.”
The green-eyed man looked at Slick skeptically. Slick on the table was white as a sheet and had eyes the size of half-dollars. The obvious lies that Slick on the floor was telling were pushing Slick on the table to the edge of hysteria.
“So they told you these were experiments?”
“Yes,” Slick replied. “Is that incorrect now?”
“Well, no, not exactly. We were told that what was going on here was a matter of national security. We were told that the work we were performing would save the United States from further terrorism and future horrors.”
“But, it’s not experimental anymore?”
The green-eyed man fidgeted. “It was never experimental from the beginning. That’s how we understood this mission. We were told to take the terrorists and other misfits that were sent here and to share with them some important information that would help them realize that what they were doing was not beneficial to them or anyone else.”
Slick on the floor was intrigued. “What kind of information?”
“I thought you’d know. I mean, you were sent here to check on us, right?”
“Of course I was. But that doesn’t mean I was told all the details. My mission was simply to see how things were progressing and to report back on the outcome, namely the number of terrorists entering this facility and the number leaving after the procedures had been performed.”
“Well, I can assure you that they might be entering, but none are leaving.”
Taken aback, Slick on the floor struggled to keep his composure. What in the world were they doing? Were they killing them all? What kind of experiments were they performing? Slick replied, “Good. I’ll take note of that for my superiors. I’m sure they’ll be pleased.”
“So, how long will you be with us?”
“Only a few days.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did they get you in here without anyone noticing?”
“Top secret.”
“Of course. I should have known that. Well, we are just about to deal with this so-called time traveler. As far as we’re concerned, a story like that sounds too good to be true. If his mind has gone off the deep end and that’s the only story he can come up with, then obviously he’s in need of enlightenment.”
“But if he’s not a terrorist, what’s the point?”
“Terrorist or not, he was snooping around this facility which indicates he knows something that shouldn’t leave here. The only way to do that is to share some vital information with him just as we do with our terrorists’ friends.”
Slick on the floor was beginning to realize that his other self was not going to come out of this alive. There wasn’t much he could do about it either.
“So, would you like to observe?”
“Sure, that’s why I’m here.”
“Great!” The green-eyed man motioned to one of the black dressed men to retrieve the box that was under guard outside the door. Opening the door and picking it up, he brought it over to the small table. The lid was opened and several vials of clear liquid sat inside in neat rows. All were cushioned by having been placed in soft, velvety compartments. Reaching in, the green-eyed man pulled one from its resting place. Closing the box, he then reached down and picked up an empty syringe and needle. Piercing the top of the vial, he gently pulled back on the plunger extracting the vial’s contents up into the syringe. Once finished, he gave the plunger a slight push to expel the air bubble inside. Setting it down on the table, he looked back at Slick on the floor.
“Before I continue, I have one other question. What’s this device you had around your waist?”
“It is, or should I say, was a computer device I was supposed to use to keep track of my findings here. Then, once I’d returned home, I would download the results into the government-based computers at the Pentagon.”
“Why is it so bulky? I mean, with the technology available today, you should be able to do that with a handheld computer no bigger than a credit card. Why send such a bulky electronic unit?”
“It does more than just keep track of data. Again, I’m not at liberty to say what other features this unit had. Of course, when I was punched by your cohort over here, he busted the thing, so now I don’t know if any of it will work at all.”
The green-eyed man looked at Slick on the floor with an eye of disbelief. Not wanting to waste any more time, he went back to his task at hand. Strapping a rubber tube around Slick on the table’s arm, the green-eyed man next took an alcohol swab and dabbed an area around a swelling vein on the inside of Slick on the table’s elbow. Slick on the table’s eyes were huge. Panic-stricken sounds of terror were emerging inaudibly from underneath the gag. With a look of desperation, Slick on the table looked longingly and anxiously at Slick on the floor. Unable to deal with this plea, Slick on the floor turned toward the door.
“How about you do the honors doc?”
Slick on the floor turned around with a look of puzzlement. “What?”
“I said, how about you do the honors? You’re here to observe, why not be the one to actually take part in enlightening one of our troublemakers. That should look good on your report. Maybe it will even get you a promotion.”
“I’m fine. You go ahead.”
“I insist,” the green-eyed man said, his tone of voice indicating that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Slick on the floor also realized this was a test to see if his story was true.
Taking the syringe from the green-eyed man with apprehension, Slick on the floor asked, “So, what is this anyway? I wasn’t told any of that.”
“It’s a mind-expanding cocktail we call PerNeferCybin or PNC for short.”
“Never heard of it,” Slick on the floor said as he stood holding the syringe.
“It comes from the word “per nefer” an Egyptian word meaning “house of rejuvenation” and from Psilocybin mushrooms which are known for their hallucinogenic properties.”
An instant, cold sweat poured down the back of Slick’s neck. Gooseflesh appeared all over his body. The blood drained from his face. A sickening numbness flooded through his body as he attempted to keep his composure and hold onto the syringe. Speaking and trying to sound as composed as he possibly could he asked, “So, where did you get this kind of a drug?”
“Well,” the green-eyed man said, “I’m not sure of all of the history, but I’m told it was invented by a man back in 2006 who sold it to the government. From what I understand, that man got quite a payoff for his discovery. No one’s ever heard of him since. As far as I know, he’s traveling the world under some false name and identity and enjoying the rest of his life.”
“Wow, 2006. That was quite some time ago.”
Looking at Slick on the floor with a look of bewilderment, the green-eyed man said, “It wasn’t that long ago. It’s only been about four years. After this guy sold it to the government, they perfected it even more to the point where now it only takes a few seconds for the unfortunate misfits to go into a deep REM sleep and to have instant access to their most feared phobias and nightmares. I’ve seen men die from sheer fear in minutes and I’ve seen others die in seconds. Every man is different. You never know what kind of nightmare they’re going to have. Only they will ever know that.”
Slick on the table was in sheer terror. Screaming under his gag and straining at his restraints, he attempted to get Slick on the floor’s attention so that he would do something to save him. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Unfortunately, so did Slick on the floor. Beginning to shake, Slick on the floor didn’t know if he could go through this. The green-eyed man realized that too. Holding the modified Billy Club against Slick on the floor’s back, he said, “Don’t even think of stopping now. If you’re the real McCoy, you’ll do this for your country. You won’t have any problems ridding it of unwanted riff-raff such as this, even if he does look exactly like you.”
Hoping to save his own life, although it meant killing himself, Slick on the floor reached over and plunged the needle deep into the arm of the wide-eyed and terrified Slick on the table. Slick on the floor watched as Slick on the table fell into an almost instant sleep. Slick on the floor was filled with the sensation that he had died and was watching himself from overhead. Patients throughout history had reported this kind of a situation and now Slick felt as if he too were going through some out-of-body experience although he knew that any of those stories were only visions experienced within the minds of the patients who told them. Within seconds of his injecting Slick on the table, Slick on the floor began to feel woozy. The room began to spin and he felt himself beginning to collapse. Moments later, he opened his eyes to the disbelieving stares of those around him.
Slick felt strange, as if he were floating in a room without gravity. Below, he could see himself lying on the table; his head flopped to the side, a used syringe lying next to himself on the small table. The green-eyed man and the two men in black were looking up at him, watching him, waiting for him. In their hands, they held needles and syringes with which to inject him when he came back down to earth. Slick blinked his eyes. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He couldn’t be floating. What he was seeing couldn’t be real. When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. Slick didn’t know what was happening. Trying to get a grasp on the situation, Slick once again closed his eyes to shut out the images around him and to allow himself to concentrate for a minute. Thinking about his predicament, he was only able to come up with one answer. The injection he’d given Slick on the table must have affected him as well. At the moment he’d given the injection, he felt there would be no effect. Since he had been split by a time transference glitch, he figured that whatever happened to either one of them would be independent of the other. He didn’t believe that doing something to one would affect the other. Now, it seemed, he had been wrong. The injection he’d given Slick on the table was also scrambling his brain. That meant that he would be tortured with hallucinogenic images like all the other victims before him, including those upon whom he’d started this whole experiment some four years ago. Slick was terrified. He knew what his nightmares would entail. He’d already had a glimpse when looking at the three men below him. Needles. That was what he feared most. Although he used them on others, he had always hated thinking about having them used on himself. The few times in his life when needles had been used, he’d passed out from sheer terror. Now, he was on the verge of being cast into a nightmare that would ultimately be his demise.
Upon opening his eyes once again, he found himself back on the floor. Everything around him twisted and turned as if it were created from smoke. The room and its’ inhabitants changed from solid to vapor and back again with such realism that Slick had a hard time believing he was only seeing these images in his mind. Slick found himself mesmerized by the strange world around him. Attempting to stand, he found his hands had become part of the concrete floor. Raising his arms, his hands only stretched into long, stringy bands of thick goo, like cheese stretching from a slice of pizza. In fact, it wasn’t just his hands. When he tried to stand up, he found that his whole body was like one giant piece of cheese pizza. The elasticity of this phenomenon allowed Slick to move only a few inches before snapping him back into place on the concrete floor. Panic-stricken, Slick’s heart beat faster, his breathing increased and his mind tried to mend the ever-expanding chasm between reality and fantasy.
Realizing his predicament, Slick continued to focus all his energy, all his mental power and all his inner strength into one potent anti-hallucinogenic beam of concentrated energy to relegate his neurons into submission so that he might keep a sane mind and keep his thinking faculties clear and unhindered. How long he could do this he didn’t know. How successful it would be, he didn’t know. The one thing he did know was that he didn’t want to die a horrifying death at the hands of some tryptamine-induced journey into the darkest recesses of his mind. Worse yet, Slick was mortified to think that he would be dying at the hands of his own concoction which he had created, modified, stream-lined and had been lucratively enriched by some four years before. Slick re-focused and mentally grasped the edges of the dark abyss that was quickly growing inside his mind.
Trying once again to stand, Slick was snapped back onto the floor with a force strong enough to cause his spine to burn and his bones to rattle. The terrible thing was that Slick couldn’t tell if what he was feeling, thinking, hearing or seeing was real or imagined. If he could tell himself that it was all just a dream, maybe he could ride the swells of horror through and come out unscathed. The problem was figuring out where that fuzzy line between reality and nightmare lay.
Looking around the room at his captors, Slick tried with all his might to calm himself and to tell himself that it was all a dream. The visions, however, were so strong and so convincing that he drifted between telling himself that they were bogus to believing that they were real. Mesmerized, Slick watched as the inhabitants of the room continued to change. First, they were solid. Then they were vaporous trails of gaseous ectoplasm drifting here and there as if blown by the winds of his mind. Then they changed from vibrant, fluorescent colors to black and white and back again. Their bodies changed from a solid human form into the shapes of the furniture in the room. One man morphed from a human into a table and then slowly melted into the floor while another changed from a man into a table and then exploded in cloud of rainbow fog. The green-eyed man grew bigger and bigger. Never once did he morph into something different. He just grew until he filled the room, his head and shoulders scrunched against the ceiling and his arms and torso expanding outward until they were pressed so tightly against the walls that there was no more room even for air to circulate. Slick continued to watch as the green-eyed man’s stomach grew outward toward him coming closer and closer in perfect synchronization with each change of the numerals on his LCD wristwatch. Feeling the oxygen around him being pressed out of the room, Slick found it harder and harder to breathe. The stomach of the green-eyed man was almost upon him. Slick tried to close his eyes, but found that his eyelids were gone. Nothing he did could keep him from seeing what was about to crush him out of existence. Then, without warning, the growing stopped. With a sudden whoosh, the green-eyed man deflated as if he were an untied balloon that had suddenly been let go. Shrinking in size, the man got smaller and smaller flying in haphazard circles around the room until finally coming to rest between Slick’s legs. Leaning forward, stretching his head and neck that were attached to the wall by the unknown cheese-like glue, Slick was able to look down with quite some effort at the green-eyed balloon laying between his legs. Slick relaxed the straining muscles in his neck and his head snapped back against the wall. When his head hit, Slick felt something sharp poking him in the back of his neck.
Instant icicles of sweat began to form on Slick’s head and face. Rivulets of cold perspiration ran down his back and arms. Gooseflesh instantly appeared on his skin and his heart kicked into overdrive. Slick began to hyperventilate. In his mind, he could picture the long, silver, sharp, needle pressing on his neck from behind, waiting to pierce his skin and plunge deep into the soft muscle and tissue underneath. While these wild images raced through the folds of his brain, Slick felt another prick on the back of his arms. Both were placed in exactly the same position on both arms. Slick tried with all his might to move his arms away from the wall, but the harder he pulled forward, the stronger the pull backward became causing the needles to slowly penetrate his skin. Slick tried to scream. Instead of sound, Slick was mystified at seeing notes like those found on sheets of music drifting aimlessly from his mouth and out across the room. Slick’s fear of losing control of his mental faculties was becoming reality like the slow solidification of Jell-O in a mold. Slick tried to shake his head to clear it of these tryptamine cobwebs, but his head would no longer move. The goo that moments ago had provided elasticity was now hardened into a rock-hard substance imprisoning him against the wall. Tears of frustration and fear formed at the corners of his eyes only to harden into tiny drops of ice that rolled down his face and bounced across the concrete floor shattering against the far wall. Slick saw his life shattering against the walls of time in the same fashion.
Four more pricks of icy cold steel pierced Slick in the back and slowly penetrated his being. His heart was pounding with such ferocity that the cartilage was beginning to tear. Blood was oozing into his chest cavity with each beat. His brain was receiving less and less oxygen-rich blood thus allowing the line of fantasy to creep ever closer to the last remnants of reality he possessed. Slick’s lidless eyes burned as the air in the room continued to blow gently across them. Moving them rapidly back and forth, Slick was able to ease the pain, but not completely. Then, out of thin air, a needle some six feet long, a foot in diameter and razor-sharp at the tip appeared in front of Slick. Slick’s heart literally stopped in his chest. Seconds later, it resumed its’ pounding while Slick watched in horror as the monstrous plunger on the backside of the needle began to depress. Slick could see something dark flowing out of the syringe and into the needle. Focusing on the tip of the needle, Slick saw a face beginning to appear. At first, it was undecipherable because of the confined space from which it was coming. Then, slowly, as toothpaste emerges from a tube, the silhouette of a woman’s face came into view. Once the head of the woman was fully dislodged from the needle’s tip, it turned and looked at Slick. The face had no features. It was completely blank and black. Long black hair hung from the head, but no other feminine features were visible. It stared at Slick for several minutes. Then, the fuzzy outline of letters began to appear where a forehead should be. Slick tried to make them out through watering eyes. Finally, their clarity was manifest to such an extent that Slick’s mind could decipher what they said. The letters, bright red in color, read BENITA. They began to flash like a neon sign only a few feet away from Slick. Slick had never seen what Benita had looked like in real life. His mind, however, under heavy sedation by the PerNeferCybin cocktail, was creating its’ own image of the woman he’d injected. His mind was haunting him, terrorizing him, scaring him to death.
A sudden pain reminded Slick of the needles’ slow penetration into his body. He could feel their presence inside of him, the feel of cold steel slowly passing by or through his vital organs, the razor-sharp tip cutting through whatever was in its’ way, the non-stop journey of his worst nightmare now alive inside of him. Slick could feel the needles inside his body as they exerted more and more pressure on his chest and stomach from the inside. Tiny mountains of flesh were beginning to appear on the outer surface of his abdomen and chest where the needles would soon erupt. Slick’s body was breaking down, his mind was going and his future was history.
Slick’s attention was aroused as the faceless, black, neon-blinking head fell out of the needle and onto the floor next to his feet. Another head, appearing first as a drop of liquid and then slowly growing in size began to form on the tip of the needle which still hung in midair in front of Slick’s dying eyes. This face came into full view and in full color. It was the face of Hank. Big, burly, hairy and menacing, the same red neon letters appeared across the forehead blinking HANK. Like Benita’s head, Hank’s head fell from the tip of the needle and rolled to a stop at Slick’s feet. Then, a third face began to expand at the tip of the needle. Slick knew who it would be. He waited in anticipation for Maisie’s face to appear, but it didn’t. Instead, his own face and head appeared on the tip. Horrified, Slick realized that only the faces of those who had died had appeared from the tip of the needle. A sudden release of adrenaline surged through his body and several needles popped out of his chest and stomach from the inside. Screaming, Slick watched in silence as a multitude of musical notes drifted aimlessly across the room like leaves blowing across a field on a windy, autumn day. Slick’s head dropped from the tip of the needle and rolled to a stop between his feet. A dying smile faded from view as his name in bright red letters began to blink incessantly across his beheaded forehead. A muffled pop emanated from Slick’s chest. His vision darkened, his aspirations vanished, his future faded and Slick’s existence became history.
***
The green-eyed man and his black-clad cohorts looked on as Slick on the table went limp. Within just seconds of his demise, Slick on the floor collapsed in a heap next to the table. The men looked at one another with bewildered expressions.
“I’ve never seen the PNC work that fast on anyone before, have you?”
Both of the men in black shook their heads no. Reaching down to check Slick on the floor’s pulse, the green-eyed man exclaimed, “He’s dead too! What kind of doctor can’t handle giving his patient an injection?”
No one answered the rhetorical question. They all just stood staring at the two dead look-alikes.
“What’s this?” the green-eyed man asked more to himself than to the others.
All three gathered closer to Slick on the floor’s body. Several small dark areas about the size of a quarter were beginning to appear on his shirt.
“It looks like blood,” one of the men in black said. This was the first time he’d spoken since arriving. The second man in black lifted up Slick’s shirt. Sure enough, several spots on his chest and stomach were oozing blood. The puddles were slowly growing as the blood continued to dribble from the multiple wounds. The men looked at each other in dismay.
“What’s this from?” the green-eyed man asked. The other two looked just as befuddled. All three glanced around the room to see if he’d been shot by something or if there was some other explanation for this strange phenomenon which they were staring at. They couldn’t find anything that would answer their questions.
“See if he has any ID on him.”
The two black clad men rolled Slick on the floor over and retrieved a small wallet containing a few cards and a little cash. Opening it, they removed his photo ID. They handed it to the green-eyed man. Looking at it carefully, he suddenly gasped.
“This is unreal!” Turning the ID toward his fellow accomplices, he showed them the name. “Look at this. His name is Slick Goddard. Do you recognize that name?” The other two men looked at each other and shook their heads no.
“Slick Goddard was the guy who sold PNC to the government four years ago and then disappeared. No one’s seen him since.” Pondering the situation for a minute he said, “Check the other guy’s ID.”
The two men extracted the same kind of wallet from Slick on the table’s body. Upon opening it, they found the exact same ID. The three men stood in complete awe, puzzled by this strange turn of events.
“How the …” The green-eyed man’s voice faded out as he stood confused and a little scared. “Something strange has happened here, but I don’t know what. I don’t like the looks of this situation. Get these bodies out of here.” Looking at the two black-clad men, he said, “Dispose of the bodies in the same way as the other unfortunate guests. I don’t want any evidence that these two were ever here. If anyone comes asking, we didn’t see a thing.” The two men nodded in agreement and began removing both Slicks’ from the room. The green-eyed man looked around again. Picking up the broken control box that had been set on the small table next to the table upon which Slick had been strapped, he rolled it over and over in his hands. He had absolutely no idea what this box was for or why Slick had been carrying it. Whatever it was, it was broken and of no use to anyone. The green-eyed man laid the device next to Slick on the floors’ body. When the two men returned, he told them to dispose of the box along with the bodies. Then, leaving the room, the green-eyed man disappeared down a hallway and into the bowels of the hidden complex.
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