The Hercules Project

Chapter 2

Secret Base

They drove me out into the desert. I didn't get to visit often, so I did my best to enjoy the ride, though my view was blurred by our speed and the depth of the window tint, distorting the scrub and dull gray of the soil.

If I hadn't been looking, I would have missed the "No Trespassing" sign. We slowed briefly before racing ahead. I caught a glimpse of a homemade gate manned by two men in plain clothes.

"Subtle," I said.

No.3 grunted at me, but it was all the reaction I received.

My pocket vibrated and I jumped before I realized it was only my phone ringing. It was obvious to me who was calling before I even checked the number.

Abigail. Of course, the school contacted her. My primary caregiver, she had to be terrified. Not like my father to give her any advance notice, either. Before I could answer and tell her I was fine, a massive paw descended over the back of the seat and liberated my phone.

"I'm afraid that's not permitted, Mr. Simons." He hit end before killing the power and tucking the phone into his inside pocket.

Fear or no fear, if I had something to hit him with, I would have.

"My nanny will be worried about me." Abigail was way more than a nanny. Friend, teacher, support staff, surrogate mom. She kept me going. I couldn't just let them leave her in the dark.

"Ms. Franks has been informed," No.1 said from the front seat.

Yeah. Right.

"Then how come she's calling me?" I thought it a good question.

No.1 either wasn't permitted to or, more likely, couldn't be bothered giving me an answer.

I was working on some smooth comebacks when we finally came to a halt, the force of No.1's braking rocking me in my seat. The front driver's window hummed down and his badge flashed.

I could just make out the face of a camouflage-clad, rifle-wielding soldier on the driver's side while the dusty-edged windshield two seats away revealed a nondescript chain-link gate straight ahead. My whole body convulsed in a shudder at the hum of electricity in the air. The tingle from the fence made my hair stand on end. They must have been running enough volts through it to take down an elephant.

A second guard sat behind the glass, watching from the small booth on the driver's side. Another big black SUV sat parked beside it. I tried not to grin. The conspiracy theorists would have a field day. If they were ever allowed to make it this far.

"Priority clearance," No.1 said.

"We didn't receive any orders." The guard's voice sounded deep and ground over my ears like gravel. Exactly how I imagined a gate guard to a secret government facility would sound. I wondered if they picked him for that reason. He peered in the back. "Who's the kid?"

"Subject," No.1 said. The guard looked at me again.

Hang on a second. Subject?

The soldier retreated to the shack and exchanged a few words with his partner. When he returned, he seemed less grim.

"All clear," he said.

The window hummed back into place. I felt the truck vibrate as the driver tapped the gas.

"What did he mean?" I found myself shaking.

No.3 refused to answer, just sat and stared straight ahead. I caught the two guards trying to see inside, to catch another look at me.

When the steel-frame slid open just wide enough, the driver gunned the engine so hard the tires spun on the old asphalt, sending up a plume of windblown dust and pebbles as he drove through.

"You have to tell me what's going on." I was so overwhelmed by the implications of what "subject" meant, I found it hard to order my thoughts. "I want to know what's going on."

No.3 turned around and looked directly at me for the first time. He slid his glasses down from his cold, empty green eyes.

"I said quiet."

I didn't appreciate the threat. But I was helpless and he knew it. I glared at him and sat back again, turning my thoughts to my father. What was he getting me into? Whatever it was, it had to be good or my father wouldn't involve me. Right?

Um. Gulp.

My only consolation, and a small one at that, was we were getting close enough I'd have all my questions answered shortly anyway.

We crested a small rise, a glimmer ahead catching my attention. Shock replaced curiosity when we pulled up to what amounted to a shack in the middle of the desert. The dull gray, corrugated metal had the odd rust spot showing. A shabby door wobbled on damaged hinges. I found myself staring at the dilapidated building when the SUV door whooshed open beside me. The heat hit, stealing my breath after the cool of the air-conditioned truck. My black-suited babysitter jerked my door wide and easily lifted me from the seat, depositing me in my chair. No.2 climbed back in the truck and the driver spun away. I choked on the dust of their departure, even as I was wheeled toward the shell and through the creaking doorway into cool darkness beyond.

So much for a run-down shanty. The shell was just that-a fake. The walls looked like thick concrete, the ceiling and floor the same lifeless gray. A soldier lurched from his chair in the corner, one single exposed bulb lighting the book he read.

He saluted abruptly as his eyes slid sideways and met mine.

"Sir."

No.3 ignored him and keyed a panel beside two shining metal doors. A soft chime and a whoosh of air revealed a large elevator. The soldier on guard didn't have time to say anything else before we were inside and falling. My stomach did slow turns as the number on the lit panel above us tracked the floors. I was glad I missed lunch. At twenty the heavy drop slowed. At twenty-four, the elevator came to a soft bouncing halt and the doors hissed open. No.3 rolled me into a huge hallway of pale gray cement, fluorescent bulbs buzzing far above us. The walls echoed with the agent's footsteps and the hushed hum of my tires on concrete.

"ID," a deep voice said as we came to a halt next to a heavy metal desk. A soldier with dull eyes and a blonde crew cut blocked our way, one hand outstretched, the other resting on the g*n at his waist. To me, he seemed huge and intimidating and I hated feeling intimidated.

"This is the subject?"

When he looked away, I admit I felt relieved. The soldier's cold gray eyes were the exact color of the walls and reminded me of a hunting shark.

"As ordered." No.3 handed over some paperwork.

"He's just a kid." The soldier seemed angry for some reason and I kind of hoped he'd hold us back. It felt more and more like this was a very bad idea. My eyes drifted to his desk where a file peeked at me. All I caught were the initials "HP".

Before I could ask what it was, with a swipe and a salute we were on our way, though I felt the man's eyes on me as we rushed past.

"So I shouldn't be worried, right?" I tried to make it a joke, but leaned toward open panic. The words "subject" tied to "project" sounded suspiciously like my father brought me here for an experiment.

Surely not. My father would never expose me to danger or risk. He may not have paid much attention to me my entire life, but I was sure in my heart he really did care about me and would never do something so thoughtless and irresponsible.

The belief lost credibility as we cleared a last set of doors and entered a large lab.

There were so many white coats running here and there mixed in with uniform clad bodies hovering around, I wondered how No.3 managed to maneuver me through them. Narrowly avoiding a handful of near collisions, by the time we traveled halfway through the room, I was no longer paying attention to the activity going on around me. I only had eyes for the huge, glassed-in area at the end of the lab. Five soldiers in green t-shirts and boxers sat inside strapped into chairs. I was so focused on them I almost missed we were rushing toward a glass door. When we passed through it and to the last empty seat in the chamber, my heart was ready to jump out of my body and make its own dash for safety.

"What are you doing?"

No.3 plucked me out of my wheelchair and securely strapped me into a three-point harness before I could even think to fight, not that I could have struggled much. He ignored me and left me there, carrying my folded chair out with him. I gaped, unable to breathe or think, watching him exit and approach a white-coated man who turned when No.3 spoke to him.

I knew that scientist.

"Dad!"

He glanced at me and I felt a shudder of cold drive through my stomach. It was like he didn't see me at all. Dad approached the glass, standing behind a console while No.3 said something else, but my father waved him away, his normal look of annoyance at least familiar. The agent didn't even glance my way as he left.

It was all happening so fast! I tugged against the harness, knowing I was far too weak to free myself let alone escape without my chair, but unable to stop struggling. My focus was so intent on trying to get my bent fingers to depress the clasp I almost missed the hiss. I looked up in horror to see the glass door seal shut.

Whimpering escaped me as I fought harder. "Dad!" I felt my heart rate running dangerously high, forced by years of illness to be conscious of my body's weaknesses. All this stress meant a nosebleed at the very least or worse, a seizure, at any moment.

I watched in stunned understanding as my father stopped beside a big man in a well-decorated army uniform. They exchanged a few heated words while the pressure inside the chamber increased. I swallowed hard, ears popping right away as the conversation between my father and the big man ended. The burly officer met my gaze, held it. I stared into the strange man's eyes, knowing mine were terrified. He didn't care to acknowledge my fear because it only took him a moment to look away.

Panic overwhelmed me, sweat leaping to the surface of my skin, my pulse racing faster and faster, a soft panting whine escaping my throat as I continued to struggle. "Dad! Please, what's going on? Dad!"

Someone whispered beside me, then a deep voice said, "Hey, kid, who let you in?"

My head whipped around. One of the soldiers looked at me, deep brown eyes warm, face concerned. He grinned, bright lights from the ceiling of the chamber making his dark skin glow.

"It's okay, I'm just teasing," he said, voice like old velvet. "Your dad is Dr. Simons?"

I bobbed my head, unable to speak, suddenly breathless and cold.

"Just hang in there," he said. "You'll be okay. Your daddy wouldn't do anything to hurt you or any of us, okay?"

I nodded again, swallowing hard. The pressure increased further, pushing against me from all directions, squeezing my body in a fist of compressing air. The telltale trickle of heat slid down my throat and out my nose over my lip as a blood vessel burst.

Seizure imminent.

"Just breathe, kid," the soldier said. "It'll happen any minute now."

I swiped my nose against my shoulder to get rid of the blood and managed to squeak a question out as the light inside the chamber grew brighter.

"What will?"

Before the soldier had a chance to answer me, the floor started to shake and hum. My chair vibrated as the light flared and blotted out the world. I struggled one last time with the remainder of my strength, reaching out to my father as the light pulsed once with a deep thrum of sound from beneath me.

Then everything went black.

***