"Out of the Unbearable Silence"
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dochermes"Out of the Unbearable Silence"
6/2-6/3/1992
I.
The first day of looking for Robin Hopkins had produced nothing substantial. Bane had taken a few rooms at the Marriott in Poughkeepskie for the next four days, expecting a dull week of standard detective work. Cindy had come along, more to keep him company than because she thought the case would be difficult or dangerous. Neither of them expected much from this.
Pulling the curtains aside, the Dire Wolf looked gloomily out on a dark, rainy parking lot. They were staying here after trying another motel chain because a ground floor suite of rooms was available here. This was not an idle preference, since several times being able to get in and out quickly had been vital during chases and confrontations. Now, he watched his dark green Mustang out in the drizzle and brooded. At thirty-five, Bane was at a physical peak, as quick and skilled as he had ever been. In the familiar uniform of black slacks, turtleneck and sportjacket, his gaunt body seemed to be all bone and taut muscle with zero fat.
Coming out of the bathroom, wrapping her damp hair in a towl as if it were a turban, Cindy watched him warmly. The telepath was a year younger, a little blonde just an inch over five feet tall, with a dark blue eyes in a thoughtful face. She was bundled in a terrycloth robe considerably too large for her. "I just have a hunch about this, Jeremy," she said out loud.
Letting the curtain drop, he turned to face her. The pale grey eyes were subdued. "Well, I've sure learned to trust your hunches. Even if the telepathy isn't involved, your instincts about people are always sharp."
She came over to stand beside him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. "Hmm. You know, this doesn't seem like a typical case for the Dire Wolf Agency. Robin Hopkins was last seen six weeks ago and the police have quietly lost all interest in his case. There doesn't seem to be anything about it to interest us. No Midnight War angle." She nuzzled him and then went over to drop down on the edge of one of the beds and began working on her hair. "Except of course, the detail of where he worked."
"The John Grim Institute," Bane answered. He seemed irritated at just the phrase. "Yes. Even the empire of John Grim needs a custodial staff. Even criminal masterminds hire janitors. I doubt if Hopkins realized what he was really involved with. As far as the public knows, Grim's operations are supposed to be just about scientific research and inventions with big government connections. We know better."
Brushing her dark gold hair and counting the strokes to herself, Cindy said, "Let's see... Robin Joseph Hopkins, 24. Shared an apartment at 4 Jervis Street with co-worker Neil Michaels, 28. Place is a dump. Phew. Anyway, one night the roommate came home to find Hopkin's VW Jetta parked outside, lights on in the apartment but no Hopkins. No note, all his belongings still where they usually were. His family hadn't heard from him, he had no girlfriend he might have been with, he was just gone."
"Yeah, that's all we have to show for today's work," grumbled Bane. He came over and sat beside her. "Nothing the police didn't already know. The papers covered it for a while but other stories took over. It's the John Grim angle that is bothering me."
"Say, Jeremy, when was the last time you checked on Grim himself anyway?"
"My sources at the hospital in Virginia keep me informed," Bane said. He got up again, restless as always, and started pacing. "Grim seems to wake up for an hour or so every day but shows no awareness of his surroundings. His EEG shows he's in a dream state much of the time."
"I kind of wish I'd killed him outright with that brain blast," the blonde said in a surprisingly mild tone. "He sure deserved it."
"Maybe that coma is his punishment," Bane said as he headed for the window again. "Even without him at the top, John Grim Institute keeps going as usual. So many rackets running smoothly under the surface!"
"It's only a quarter to eight, hon. You need to get out again and burn off some steam, and I could stand Italian food. Linguine with clam sauce, what do you say?"
The Dire Wolf glanced back at her with a smile. "I didn't realize I was starving until you mentioned food. Sounds like a plan."
"I noticed a few restaurants while we were driving around," she said. Getting up, she tugged a huge suitcase up onto the bed and undid its clasps. "I think I packed a decent blouse and skirt in here. And if it keeps raining, maybe a jacket..."
The Link on Bane's belt beeped and he snapped the small gadget out of its case. "Something through the phone system," he said as he looked at the screen. "One of my observers. Hello? Yes. Oh, hi, Miranda. What's going on?"
Cindy sat patiently as he listened, said "okay," a few times and then said they would be out in the lobby to meet her. He broke the connection and stood lost in thought for a second. "That was Miranda Fournelle. You remember her. She's on her way here with a friend."
Tossing the bathrobe aside, Cindy stood naked by the bed. Years of Kumundu training had given her the trim body of a gymnast and, like a gymnast, she was much stronger than her small size would suggest. With a bra in one hand and panties in the other, she said, "Sure, she was involved with Those Who Remember. She was prime sacrifice candidate. That was a few years ago. Instead of a reward for rescuing her, you asked that she keep you informed of anything weird she saw going on in the area."
The Dire Wolf went over and watched as his partner selected a black skirt and white silk blouse from her suitcase. "She didn't know we were in Poughkeepsie," he said. "But because we're only a half hour from her house, she asked to meet us here. She says something odd is going on."
Adjusting the cuffs on her blouse, Cindy asked, "Yeah? Like what?"
"She says a dozen people in the area have been having the exact same dreams. Strange dreams, all matching with each other."
II.
Two hours later, Bane and Cindy said farewells to two well-dressed middle-aged women outside the Two Cousins Italian Restaurant down by the Mid-Hudson Bridge. Miranda Fournelle had been excited to see them again and very relieved to finally be able to repay some of her debt to Bane. She had been keeping an eye out for reports of strange animals or hauntings or mysterious murders in the Hudson Valley ever since. Now she had something.
Watching Lucinda and her friend Maribeth pull away in their Nissan, Bane turned to Cindy with uncertainty in his voice. "So, hon, what did you think?"
The blonde stood with her arms folded across her chest, head down. "I wasn't really following the conversation, to be honest. My attention was on their thought sequences. They were both telling the truth, as far as they knew it. Both of them were relating what they experienced." She looked up with a mischievous grin. "Miranda's friend thinks you're hot, by the way. She went into a fantasy about you and her. Wanna hear about it?"
"Not at all," Bane said. "So these two friends discovered they were having the same dreams on the same night, down to exact details. Odd dreams, not so much scary as just odd. Giant turtles walking on two legs, teenagers racing in hot rods, astronauts in klunky spaceships. They started asking people they knew and found out that others were experiencing it, too. Now we have a list of eleven people who are experiencing this phenomenon. Six women, five men, ages range from thirty-one to sixty-four. Very interesting."
Coming over to lean slightly up against him, she said, "So, first we look for common factor, right?"
"Right. Before we drove up here this morning, I took a few minutes to study the map again. I have a pretty good layout of Poughkeepsie in my head." Kneeling in the parking lot, Bane took a pebble and scratched a rough oval on the asphalt, then added two lines next to it. "Here's the Hudson. Here's the Bridge. As best as I can visualize without getting the map out, all the people having the common dreams were near the edge of this circle."
Cindy squatted next to him. "Someone or something within that circle is causing these dreams...."
"It's a start," the Dire Wolf told her.
Standing up, smoothing her skirt, Cindy said, "You know, I am not the least bit sleepy. I wouldn't mind driving around Poughkeepsie for a while."
"I was hoping you would feel that way. How about I drive and you reach out with your mind, looking for something suspicious?"
She was already halfway back to their car. "Hey, how is this related to the missing guy, Hopkins?"
"I don't know that it is," Bane admitted. He got behind the wheel and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "But even if it isn't, we have no other trail to follow on Robin Hopkins at the moment, anyway."
As they drove back and forth through the city, the Dire Wolf kept silent. He didn't want to distract Cindy. He was thinking about the strange content of the dreams that people were sharing. There was no sensation of dread reported, the dreamers rather seemed to enjoy the experience. And most of them mentioned hearing gleeful voices chatting somewhere near them during the dreams. He had no idea what to make of any of it.
An hour crawled by without results. They stopped to fill up the gas tank, Cindy used the restroom and Bane checked for calls on his Link, then they were on the go again. Once, the telepath asked him to pull over because she was picking up on conflict, but it turned out to be just three guys arguing about sports outside a bar. They separated without rancor, waving goodnight as two of them got in a car and the third went back in.
Finally, along South Plank Road, Cindy touched Bane's arm and said, "Turn around when you get a chance. That closed up building we just passed... that's it. There's so much going on there that is just wrong."
III.
The small brick structure looked like it had once been a professional building, one that had perhaps held doctors' offices or a real estate firm. There was a concrete ramp going up to the main door. All the windows had been blacked over, and a single light shone over the front. At the rear was a metal rubbish barrel from which some splintered boards protruded, as well as a broken swivel chair. The small parking lot was empty. Along the edge of the lot, some weeds had broken through and were making progress.
To anyone driving by, it seemed to be just another building that had been abandoned by its tenants some time ago. There was no number to call if you were interested in leasing the property, though. Bane drove by again, then pulled onto a side street and parked the Mustang. He gave Cindy a quizzical look.
"Oh, I'm positive!" she told him. "Take a second. Can't you feel it?"
Sitting with the driver's window open, the Dire Wolf gazed out into the night and had the oddest flash of sitting in a darkened theatre. It was almost like being shown a photo. He gave a start. "Yeah. I can sense something weird."
"And you're not psychic at all." Cindy reached in the back seat for her handbag and drew out one of the anesthetic dart guns in a clip-on holster. She was wearing a light lilac-colored jacket over the white blouse and she fastened the holster to her belt where the jacket would conceal it.
"You don't have the armor on," Bane said in a worried voice.
"Not with this skirt. I'm not even wearing stockings. But I do have a suit of the torso armor on that I brought. It leaves my arms and legs unprotected, but my body is covered." She patted his arm reassuringly. "And I have the best protection in the world right next to me."
Looking across the road at the building, the Dire Wolf studied the scene. "I don't see any guards. No cameras. What about you?"
The telepath started to open her door and get out. "No guards. Let's barge right in, Jeremy. Something awful is going on in there and the sooner we stop it, the better."
"All right," Bane said. "I trust your judgement." They stood waiting in the gloom of the side road as a pizza delivery car clattered by, then darted across South Plank Road, through the small parking lot and up against the rear door of the building. On the frosted glass panel of the door was the number 2858 and the stylized letters JG intertwined. This had been a facility used by Grim's empire one way or another.
Using his Link, he examined the door for any electrical circuits that would mean an alarm system but there was none. Planting his feet, he drew back his elbow and slammed the heel of his hand just above the lock from six inches away. It was a technique that focussed the torque of his entire body into the impact. Bane opened the door and peered into darkness, then stepped through with Cindy right behind him.
Even their enhanced night vision was not much help in such complete darkness. Bane took a pencil flashlight from his jacket and traced a thin beam of light around a barren corridor. Doors on either side were unmarked. At the other end, the hall widened to form a lobby that showed a receptionist desk and bench still in place.
Cindy placed a finger against the door to their left. Bane snapped the lock on that one and opened it to reveal dim light coming up below. A steep staircase led down out of sight. Instantly, the Dire Wolf swept Cindy to one side with his arm, while flattening against the wall next to the open doorway. A second later, a man appeared in that doorway and muttered, "That's funny...."
Even as those words were spoken, Bane swung around and smashed a hooking punch to the center of the chest that drove all the air out of the man's lungs with a whoosh. Completely out of breath and dazed by the unexpected pain, the man sagged and started to fall. Bane lowered him to the floor, holding the man's jaw shut with an iron grip.
"He's one of Grim's researchers," Cindy whispered. "Harry.. Engel. Biologist. We don't need him." She drew the air pistol and fired an anesthetic dart into the man's neck at point-blank range. Their prisoner twitched at the sting, but the potent drug took effect almost instantly.
Standing up, Bane played the flashlight over the unconscious man. The John Grim scientist was a stocky young man well under thirty, with curly black hair and thick-lensed glasses over a beaky nose. The left ear had a plain gold ring in it. The man was wearing a white lab smock completely buttoned up to the neck.
"Two more down there," she whispered in Bane's ear. Telepathic communication was completely silent but it had its limitations and could be misunderstood. They had found verbal exchanges still worked best. "And their victim." They crept slowly down the stairs into a large underground chambers with walls of unfinished stone. Most of the floor space was taken up by what looked like a refrigerator lying on its back with cables running from it into a stand-up diagnostic machine. Two tables were covered with files and binders and loose papers, and at one of them sat an older man in a lab coat. Standing behind him was the third man, who for some reason was wearing a black chaffeur-style jacket and trousers. He was holding a clipboard in one hand.
The man behind the desk was writing furiously in a notebook. He had frizzy brown hair that stood up as if he had been given an electric shock. This man turned to the third scientist and said, "What happened to Larry?"
"He thought he heard a noise upstairs, doctor."
"Well, I KNOW that, Francis. What I meant was, what's keeping him?"
"Uh....Dr Gardner?" muttered Francis. Both researchers looked up to see two intruders pointing weapons at them. There was a small blonde woman with some sort of unfamiliar air pistol, and a tall man in black who had a Smith & Wesson aimed right at them. Both men froze in terror.
IV.
"Dr Carlton Gardner," Cindy announced. "His assistant, Francis Warfield. They are the ones responsible for what's going on here."
Without taking his pistol or his eyes off the men, Bane gestured with his other hand at the apparatus on the floor. "And what's the deal with that?"
Cindy could not keep anger out of her voice. "Robin Hopkins is in there. It's a sensory deprivation tank, he's been in there for weeks. I think we won't need the flunky." She fired her weapon. The compressed CO2 cartridge barely made an audible cough as it acted. Francis jerked a hand to his neck at the sudden pain where the dart had stuck, but he was dazed and his consciousness fading before he could say anything. The researcher fell to his knees and then over on his side.
Staring at his unconscious assistant and then at the angry woman pointing that weapon at him, Dr Gardner tried to speak but could only produce a few squeaking noises. He gave up and just sat there with panic in his eyes.
"You keep him covered," Cindy told her partner as she holstered the dart gun and went over to crouch over the white porcelain apparatus on the floor. A monitor screen had readouts showing that breathing was steady, blood oxygen level was 97, blood pressure was 118 over 75 and heartbeat was steady. She knelt beside the cabinet and placed her palms on its upper surface.
No one moved or spoke. An infinitely slow minute passed, then Cindy said quietly, "Dr Gardner. Tell my friend what you have been doing here to this man. Tell the truth, I will know if you don't."
Bane added, "I have never seen her so angry. You're in real danger, doctor. Do what she says."
Clearing his throat, stalling, the researcher finally began with, "This is a simple study in sensory deprivation. It's been done before. Some people even pay to experience it. We believe it may open up possible extra-sensory abilities. That's what we're testing for."
"In a secret lab beneath an abandoned building! That's Robin Hopkins in there then?" asked the Dire Wolf. His hand holding the revolver had not wavered in the slightest all this time and the black hole of its barrel held Gardner in a grip of total fear.
"Yes. Hopkins. He works at the Institute."
"But he didn't volunteer for this, did he? His family and friends have no idea where he is." Bane took a step closer to the terrified scientist. "You and your team abducted him. No, you don't have to admit it. I can read it in your reactions."
"I've made contact," Cindy said in a voice so low they could barely hear it. "He's deep in a fantasy about being a kid again, going to the movies with his two younger brothers. I think it was a happy time in his life and he recreated it after all imput was cut off."
"I imagine a lot of people just go insane in that situation," Bane told the doctor. "No sight, no sound, no physical sensation. Just a mind in the dark."
"And the silence," Cindy added. "The unbearable silence makes the brain start to create false data. The hallucinations seem completely real. There. I've touched him. This has to be gentle. I'm going to slowly bring him back to reality."
Dr Gardner's hand has slowly strayed over to a control pad on the table that was attached to the apparatus with a thin cable. Before he could touch it, Bane had blurred forward and smashed the butt of the heavy revolver down on the man's hand.
As Gardner howled and grabbed his bruised hand, Bane said, "I didn't break any bones. You stay still, doctor. We're not the police."
Cindy got up and shuddered. "There. I've restored some awareness. I brought the memory of being put in that tank to the surface. He knows now that he's in a sensory deprivation condition but I don't know how long that will last. The unbearable silence and darkness will take over again. Gardner, get him out of there."
"Well, it's not that simple. I mean, it takes..."
"Get him out of there right now," snapped the little blonde in a voice she had never used before. Gardner jumped up and ran over, began adjusting dials and turning down valves. Standing behind him, Cindy said, "Robin is still okay. He's getting restless. He needs to be freed now."
Dr Gardner undid the clasps on the side of the apparatus and swung the thick lid up on hinges. Inside, in a warm saline solution, floated the body of a young man. His head was covered with tubes that ran up his nose, a breathing mask hooked up to a CPAP ventilator, pads over his eyes and a silicone putty compound in his ears. Around his middle was an adult diaper with tubes for eliminating waste, and an IV in one arm showed how he had been nourished.
As the Grim researcher drained the tank and began unhooking Robin Hopkins from the connections and catheters, Cindy stood right at the edge of the apparatus. "He's okay so far. I'm guiding him. He'll be a little confused but I'll help him. He knows the situation."
Coming over with the Smith & Wesson lowered, Bane asked, "The dreams all those people shared? Those were his dreams, right? He was broadcasting them somehow?"
"Yes," she said simply. "I have to concentrate, Jeremy, sorry."
Eventually, the young man in the tank was freed of everything and was looking around in a rather dazed way. He tried to sit up but couldn't.
"Your muscles have atrophied," Cindy told him. "You'll need physical therapy. The hospital will provide that. I'm glad to see you, Robin."
"Wow, you're pretty," he said as a child might. "I thought I heard a voice. Was that you?"
"Yes." Cindy straightened his damp hair with a gentle hand. Robin was a slight young man of medium height, with a rather mild and inoffensive face. He was watching her in fascination, then he noticed Dr Gardner and immediately screamed and began to wiggle in a hopeless attempt to get away.
"Step back, doctor," Bane growled as he yanked the scientist away from the apparatus. "It's okay, Robin, he's not going to hurt you any more."
Very feeble, Robin slid back down. Cindy had found a sweater on a chair and folded it behind the young man's head to prop him up. "I guess the experience did trigger ESP in you," she said thoughtfully. "The fantasy you created turned up in the dreams of a dozen people in this neighborhood."
"I was dreaming," Robin said. "When I was twelve, Mom would leave me with my brothers at the movies. We had so much fun. I remember every scene of those movies and the wisecracks we made."
"And that's what you relived," she told him. "Listen, I think it's time for an ambulance. You need real food and medical care, some PT."
Grabbing Dr Gardner by one arm, the Dire Wolf swung him around. "You go sit down again. I'm calling the FBI in on this. Kidnaping is a federal offense, so they have jurisdiction. Department 21 Black will be asking you and your buddies a lot of pointed questions, doctor. You're in for a rough time."
Still propped up in the tank, Robin asked weakly, "I'm going to the hospital?"
"Yes," said Cindy. She knelt beside the apparatus and wiped his face with a cloth. "I will come with you to make sure they treat you well." Unexpectedly she smiled. "And you can tell us just what were those crazy movies you saw!"
3/13/2016
6/2-6/3/1992
I.
The first day of looking for Robin Hopkins had produced nothing substantial. Bane had taken a few rooms at the Marriott in Poughkeepskie for the next four days, expecting a dull week of standard detective work. Cindy had come along, more to keep him company than because she thought the case would be difficult or dangerous. Neither of them expected much from this.
Pulling the curtains aside, the Dire Wolf looked gloomily out on a dark, rainy parking lot. They were staying here after trying another motel chain because a ground floor suite of rooms was available here. This was not an idle preference, since several times being able to get in and out quickly had been vital during chases and confrontations. Now, he watched his dark green Mustang out in the drizzle and brooded. At thirty-five, Bane was at a physical peak, as quick and skilled as he had ever been. In the familiar uniform of black slacks, turtleneck and sportjacket, his gaunt body seemed to be all bone and taut muscle with zero fat.
Coming out of the bathroom, wrapping her damp hair in a towl as if it were a turban, Cindy watched him warmly. The telepath was a year younger, a little blonde just an inch over five feet tall, with a dark blue eyes in a thoughtful face. She was bundled in a terrycloth robe considerably too large for her. "I just have a hunch about this, Jeremy," she said out loud.
Letting the curtain drop, he turned to face her. The pale grey eyes were subdued. "Well, I've sure learned to trust your hunches. Even if the telepathy isn't involved, your instincts about people are always sharp."
She came over to stand beside him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. "Hmm. You know, this doesn't seem like a typical case for the Dire Wolf Agency. Robin Hopkins was last seen six weeks ago and the police have quietly lost all interest in his case. There doesn't seem to be anything about it to interest us. No Midnight War angle." She nuzzled him and then went over to drop down on the edge of one of the beds and began working on her hair. "Except of course, the detail of where he worked."
"The John Grim Institute," Bane answered. He seemed irritated at just the phrase. "Yes. Even the empire of John Grim needs a custodial staff. Even criminal masterminds hire janitors. I doubt if Hopkins realized what he was really involved with. As far as the public knows, Grim's operations are supposed to be just about scientific research and inventions with big government connections. We know better."
Brushing her dark gold hair and counting the strokes to herself, Cindy said, "Let's see... Robin Joseph Hopkins, 24. Shared an apartment at 4 Jervis Street with co-worker Neil Michaels, 28. Place is a dump. Phew. Anyway, one night the roommate came home to find Hopkin's VW Jetta parked outside, lights on in the apartment but no Hopkins. No note, all his belongings still where they usually were. His family hadn't heard from him, he had no girlfriend he might have been with, he was just gone."
"Yeah, that's all we have to show for today's work," grumbled Bane. He came over and sat beside her. "Nothing the police didn't already know. The papers covered it for a while but other stories took over. It's the John Grim angle that is bothering me."
"Say, Jeremy, when was the last time you checked on Grim himself anyway?"
"My sources at the hospital in Virginia keep me informed," Bane said. He got up again, restless as always, and started pacing. "Grim seems to wake up for an hour or so every day but shows no awareness of his surroundings. His EEG shows he's in a dream state much of the time."
"I kind of wish I'd killed him outright with that brain blast," the blonde said in a surprisingly mild tone. "He sure deserved it."
"Maybe that coma is his punishment," Bane said as he headed for the window again. "Even without him at the top, John Grim Institute keeps going as usual. So many rackets running smoothly under the surface!"
"It's only a quarter to eight, hon. You need to get out again and burn off some steam, and I could stand Italian food. Linguine with clam sauce, what do you say?"
The Dire Wolf glanced back at her with a smile. "I didn't realize I was starving until you mentioned food. Sounds like a plan."
"I noticed a few restaurants while we were driving around," she said. Getting up, she tugged a huge suitcase up onto the bed and undid its clasps. "I think I packed a decent blouse and skirt in here. And if it keeps raining, maybe a jacket..."
The Link on Bane's belt beeped and he snapped the small gadget out of its case. "Something through the phone system," he said as he looked at the screen. "One of my observers. Hello? Yes. Oh, hi, Miranda. What's going on?"
Cindy sat patiently as he listened, said "okay," a few times and then said they would be out in the lobby to meet her. He broke the connection and stood lost in thought for a second. "That was Miranda Fournelle. You remember her. She's on her way here with a friend."
Tossing the bathrobe aside, Cindy stood naked by the bed. Years of Kumundu training had given her the trim body of a gymnast and, like a gymnast, she was much stronger than her small size would suggest. With a bra in one hand and panties in the other, she said, "Sure, she was involved with Those Who Remember. She was prime sacrifice candidate. That was a few years ago. Instead of a reward for rescuing her, you asked that she keep you informed of anything weird she saw going on in the area."
The Dire Wolf went over and watched as his partner selected a black skirt and white silk blouse from her suitcase. "She didn't know we were in Poughkeepsie," he said. "But because we're only a half hour from her house, she asked to meet us here. She says something odd is going on."
Adjusting the cuffs on her blouse, Cindy asked, "Yeah? Like what?"
"She says a dozen people in the area have been having the exact same dreams. Strange dreams, all matching with each other."
II.
Two hours later, Bane and Cindy said farewells to two well-dressed middle-aged women outside the Two Cousins Italian Restaurant down by the Mid-Hudson Bridge. Miranda Fournelle had been excited to see them again and very relieved to finally be able to repay some of her debt to Bane. She had been keeping an eye out for reports of strange animals or hauntings or mysterious murders in the Hudson Valley ever since. Now she had something.
Watching Lucinda and her friend Maribeth pull away in their Nissan, Bane turned to Cindy with uncertainty in his voice. "So, hon, what did you think?"
The blonde stood with her arms folded across her chest, head down. "I wasn't really following the conversation, to be honest. My attention was on their thought sequences. They were both telling the truth, as far as they knew it. Both of them were relating what they experienced." She looked up with a mischievous grin. "Miranda's friend thinks you're hot, by the way. She went into a fantasy about you and her. Wanna hear about it?"
"Not at all," Bane said. "So these two friends discovered they were having the same dreams on the same night, down to exact details. Odd dreams, not so much scary as just odd. Giant turtles walking on two legs, teenagers racing in hot rods, astronauts in klunky spaceships. They started asking people they knew and found out that others were experiencing it, too. Now we have a list of eleven people who are experiencing this phenomenon. Six women, five men, ages range from thirty-one to sixty-four. Very interesting."
Coming over to lean slightly up against him, she said, "So, first we look for common factor, right?"
"Right. Before we drove up here this morning, I took a few minutes to study the map again. I have a pretty good layout of Poughkeepsie in my head." Kneeling in the parking lot, Bane took a pebble and scratched a rough oval on the asphalt, then added two lines next to it. "Here's the Hudson. Here's the Bridge. As best as I can visualize without getting the map out, all the people having the common dreams were near the edge of this circle."
Cindy squatted next to him. "Someone or something within that circle is causing these dreams...."
"It's a start," the Dire Wolf told her.
Standing up, smoothing her skirt, Cindy said, "You know, I am not the least bit sleepy. I wouldn't mind driving around Poughkeepsie for a while."
"I was hoping you would feel that way. How about I drive and you reach out with your mind, looking for something suspicious?"
She was already halfway back to their car. "Hey, how is this related to the missing guy, Hopkins?"
"I don't know that it is," Bane admitted. He got behind the wheel and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "But even if it isn't, we have no other trail to follow on Robin Hopkins at the moment, anyway."
As they drove back and forth through the city, the Dire Wolf kept silent. He didn't want to distract Cindy. He was thinking about the strange content of the dreams that people were sharing. There was no sensation of dread reported, the dreamers rather seemed to enjoy the experience. And most of them mentioned hearing gleeful voices chatting somewhere near them during the dreams. He had no idea what to make of any of it.
An hour crawled by without results. They stopped to fill up the gas tank, Cindy used the restroom and Bane checked for calls on his Link, then they were on the go again. Once, the telepath asked him to pull over because she was picking up on conflict, but it turned out to be just three guys arguing about sports outside a bar. They separated without rancor, waving goodnight as two of them got in a car and the third went back in.
Finally, along South Plank Road, Cindy touched Bane's arm and said, "Turn around when you get a chance. That closed up building we just passed... that's it. There's so much going on there that is just wrong."
III.
The small brick structure looked like it had once been a professional building, one that had perhaps held doctors' offices or a real estate firm. There was a concrete ramp going up to the main door. All the windows had been blacked over, and a single light shone over the front. At the rear was a metal rubbish barrel from which some splintered boards protruded, as well as a broken swivel chair. The small parking lot was empty. Along the edge of the lot, some weeds had broken through and were making progress.
To anyone driving by, it seemed to be just another building that had been abandoned by its tenants some time ago. There was no number to call if you were interested in leasing the property, though. Bane drove by again, then pulled onto a side street and parked the Mustang. He gave Cindy a quizzical look.
"Oh, I'm positive!" she told him. "Take a second. Can't you feel it?"
Sitting with the driver's window open, the Dire Wolf gazed out into the night and had the oddest flash of sitting in a darkened theatre. It was almost like being shown a photo. He gave a start. "Yeah. I can sense something weird."
"And you're not psychic at all." Cindy reached in the back seat for her handbag and drew out one of the anesthetic dart guns in a clip-on holster. She was wearing a light lilac-colored jacket over the white blouse and she fastened the holster to her belt where the jacket would conceal it.
"You don't have the armor on," Bane said in a worried voice.
"Not with this skirt. I'm not even wearing stockings. But I do have a suit of the torso armor on that I brought. It leaves my arms and legs unprotected, but my body is covered." She patted his arm reassuringly. "And I have the best protection in the world right next to me."
Looking across the road at the building, the Dire Wolf studied the scene. "I don't see any guards. No cameras. What about you?"
The telepath started to open her door and get out. "No guards. Let's barge right in, Jeremy. Something awful is going on in there and the sooner we stop it, the better."
"All right," Bane said. "I trust your judgement." They stood waiting in the gloom of the side road as a pizza delivery car clattered by, then darted across South Plank Road, through the small parking lot and up against the rear door of the building. On the frosted glass panel of the door was the number 2858 and the stylized letters JG intertwined. This had been a facility used by Grim's empire one way or another.
Using his Link, he examined the door for any electrical circuits that would mean an alarm system but there was none. Planting his feet, he drew back his elbow and slammed the heel of his hand just above the lock from six inches away. It was a technique that focussed the torque of his entire body into the impact. Bane opened the door and peered into darkness, then stepped through with Cindy right behind him.
Even their enhanced night vision was not much help in such complete darkness. Bane took a pencil flashlight from his jacket and traced a thin beam of light around a barren corridor. Doors on either side were unmarked. At the other end, the hall widened to form a lobby that showed a receptionist desk and bench still in place.
Cindy placed a finger against the door to their left. Bane snapped the lock on that one and opened it to reveal dim light coming up below. A steep staircase led down out of sight. Instantly, the Dire Wolf swept Cindy to one side with his arm, while flattening against the wall next to the open doorway. A second later, a man appeared in that doorway and muttered, "That's funny...."
Even as those words were spoken, Bane swung around and smashed a hooking punch to the center of the chest that drove all the air out of the man's lungs with a whoosh. Completely out of breath and dazed by the unexpected pain, the man sagged and started to fall. Bane lowered him to the floor, holding the man's jaw shut with an iron grip.
"He's one of Grim's researchers," Cindy whispered. "Harry.. Engel. Biologist. We don't need him." She drew the air pistol and fired an anesthetic dart into the man's neck at point-blank range. Their prisoner twitched at the sting, but the potent drug took effect almost instantly.
Standing up, Bane played the flashlight over the unconscious man. The John Grim scientist was a stocky young man well under thirty, with curly black hair and thick-lensed glasses over a beaky nose. The left ear had a plain gold ring in it. The man was wearing a white lab smock completely buttoned up to the neck.
"Two more down there," she whispered in Bane's ear. Telepathic communication was completely silent but it had its limitations and could be misunderstood. They had found verbal exchanges still worked best. "And their victim." They crept slowly down the stairs into a large underground chambers with walls of unfinished stone. Most of the floor space was taken up by what looked like a refrigerator lying on its back with cables running from it into a stand-up diagnostic machine. Two tables were covered with files and binders and loose papers, and at one of them sat an older man in a lab coat. Standing behind him was the third man, who for some reason was wearing a black chaffeur-style jacket and trousers. He was holding a clipboard in one hand.
The man behind the desk was writing furiously in a notebook. He had frizzy brown hair that stood up as if he had been given an electric shock. This man turned to the third scientist and said, "What happened to Larry?"
"He thought he heard a noise upstairs, doctor."
"Well, I KNOW that, Francis. What I meant was, what's keeping him?"
"Uh....Dr Gardner?" muttered Francis. Both researchers looked up to see two intruders pointing weapons at them. There was a small blonde woman with some sort of unfamiliar air pistol, and a tall man in black who had a Smith & Wesson aimed right at them. Both men froze in terror.
IV.
"Dr Carlton Gardner," Cindy announced. "His assistant, Francis Warfield. They are the ones responsible for what's going on here."
Without taking his pistol or his eyes off the men, Bane gestured with his other hand at the apparatus on the floor. "And what's the deal with that?"
Cindy could not keep anger out of her voice. "Robin Hopkins is in there. It's a sensory deprivation tank, he's been in there for weeks. I think we won't need the flunky." She fired her weapon. The compressed CO2 cartridge barely made an audible cough as it acted. Francis jerked a hand to his neck at the sudden pain where the dart had stuck, but he was dazed and his consciousness fading before he could say anything. The researcher fell to his knees and then over on his side.
Staring at his unconscious assistant and then at the angry woman pointing that weapon at him, Dr Gardner tried to speak but could only produce a few squeaking noises. He gave up and just sat there with panic in his eyes.
"You keep him covered," Cindy told her partner as she holstered the dart gun and went over to crouch over the white porcelain apparatus on the floor. A monitor screen had readouts showing that breathing was steady, blood oxygen level was 97, blood pressure was 118 over 75 and heartbeat was steady. She knelt beside the cabinet and placed her palms on its upper surface.
No one moved or spoke. An infinitely slow minute passed, then Cindy said quietly, "Dr Gardner. Tell my friend what you have been doing here to this man. Tell the truth, I will know if you don't."
Bane added, "I have never seen her so angry. You're in real danger, doctor. Do what she says."
Clearing his throat, stalling, the researcher finally began with, "This is a simple study in sensory deprivation. It's been done before. Some people even pay to experience it. We believe it may open up possible extra-sensory abilities. That's what we're testing for."
"In a secret lab beneath an abandoned building! That's Robin Hopkins in there then?" asked the Dire Wolf. His hand holding the revolver had not wavered in the slightest all this time and the black hole of its barrel held Gardner in a grip of total fear.
"Yes. Hopkins. He works at the Institute."
"But he didn't volunteer for this, did he? His family and friends have no idea where he is." Bane took a step closer to the terrified scientist. "You and your team abducted him. No, you don't have to admit it. I can read it in your reactions."
"I've made contact," Cindy said in a voice so low they could barely hear it. "He's deep in a fantasy about being a kid again, going to the movies with his two younger brothers. I think it was a happy time in his life and he recreated it after all imput was cut off."
"I imagine a lot of people just go insane in that situation," Bane told the doctor. "No sight, no sound, no physical sensation. Just a mind in the dark."
"And the silence," Cindy added. "The unbearable silence makes the brain start to create false data. The hallucinations seem completely real. There. I've touched him. This has to be gentle. I'm going to slowly bring him back to reality."
Dr Gardner's hand has slowly strayed over to a control pad on the table that was attached to the apparatus with a thin cable. Before he could touch it, Bane had blurred forward and smashed the butt of the heavy revolver down on the man's hand.
As Gardner howled and grabbed his bruised hand, Bane said, "I didn't break any bones. You stay still, doctor. We're not the police."
Cindy got up and shuddered. "There. I've restored some awareness. I brought the memory of being put in that tank to the surface. He knows now that he's in a sensory deprivation condition but I don't know how long that will last. The unbearable silence and darkness will take over again. Gardner, get him out of there."
"Well, it's not that simple. I mean, it takes..."
"Get him out of there right now," snapped the little blonde in a voice she had never used before. Gardner jumped up and ran over, began adjusting dials and turning down valves. Standing behind him, Cindy said, "Robin is still okay. He's getting restless. He needs to be freed now."
Dr Gardner undid the clasps on the side of the apparatus and swung the thick lid up on hinges. Inside, in a warm saline solution, floated the body of a young man. His head was covered with tubes that ran up his nose, a breathing mask hooked up to a CPAP ventilator, pads over his eyes and a silicone putty compound in his ears. Around his middle was an adult diaper with tubes for eliminating waste, and an IV in one arm showed how he had been nourished.
As the Grim researcher drained the tank and began unhooking Robin Hopkins from the connections and catheters, Cindy stood right at the edge of the apparatus. "He's okay so far. I'm guiding him. He'll be a little confused but I'll help him. He knows the situation."
Coming over with the Smith & Wesson lowered, Bane asked, "The dreams all those people shared? Those were his dreams, right? He was broadcasting them somehow?"
"Yes," she said simply. "I have to concentrate, Jeremy, sorry."
Eventually, the young man in the tank was freed of everything and was looking around in a rather dazed way. He tried to sit up but couldn't.
"Your muscles have atrophied," Cindy told him. "You'll need physical therapy. The hospital will provide that. I'm glad to see you, Robin."
"Wow, you're pretty," he said as a child might. "I thought I heard a voice. Was that you?"
"Yes." Cindy straightened his damp hair with a gentle hand. Robin was a slight young man of medium height, with a rather mild and inoffensive face. He was watching her in fascination, then he noticed Dr Gardner and immediately screamed and began to wiggle in a hopeless attempt to get away.
"Step back, doctor," Bane growled as he yanked the scientist away from the apparatus. "It's okay, Robin, he's not going to hurt you any more."
Very feeble, Robin slid back down. Cindy had found a sweater on a chair and folded it behind the young man's head to prop him up. "I guess the experience did trigger ESP in you," she said thoughtfully. "The fantasy you created turned up in the dreams of a dozen people in this neighborhood."
"I was dreaming," Robin said. "When I was twelve, Mom would leave me with my brothers at the movies. We had so much fun. I remember every scene of those movies and the wisecracks we made."
"And that's what you relived," she told him. "Listen, I think it's time for an ambulance. You need real food and medical care, some PT."
Grabbing Dr Gardner by one arm, the Dire Wolf swung him around. "You go sit down again. I'm calling the FBI in on this. Kidnaping is a federal offense, so they have jurisdiction. Department 21 Black will be asking you and your buddies a lot of pointed questions, doctor. You're in for a rough time."
Still propped up in the tank, Robin asked weakly, "I'm going to the hospital?"
"Yes," said Cindy. She knelt beside the apparatus and wiped his face with a cloth. "I will come with you to make sure they treat you well." Unexpectedly she smiled. "And you can tell us just what were those crazy movies you saw!"
3/13/2016
