21: THE STORM

THE THREE OF them appeared on the street, in the middle of Eileen’s neighborhood. The same identical house repeated for as far as they could see. Thick, dark clouds were forming in the vibrant red sky. The air was unusually muggy and there was a faint ringing sound all around them.

Claire rolled up her sleeves and fanned the collar of her shirt. Droplets of sweat formed on her forehead. “Jeez, it’s warm in here. What’s that noise? Where is it coming from?”

Hanna didn’t answer. She observed their surroundings with acute attention. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Eileen asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it, but something isn’t right. The weather. That noise. It shouldn’t be like this.”

Eileen propped her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re the expert. How do we fix it?”

“I don’t think we can fix it.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We do what we came here to do, and then get out as quickly as possible.”

Claire stared at the sky. “Those are the darkest clouds I’ve ever seen. It’s like someone lit the sky on fire and that’s all of the smoke left over.”

Eileen tilted her head up to see. “Hot damn, you’re right. Let’s get moving so we can get the hell out of here. How do we get to my dorsolaterus thingy?”

“It’s called the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex,” Hanna said. “You have to stimulate that part of your brain. Focus on your most truthful thoughts. If you do it correctly, a path should reveal itself.”

“Truthful thoughts, huh? Let’s see.” She closed her eyes to focus.

A streak of light illuminated the sky, followed by a loud crack that echoed down the street. The ground jolted, throwing them off balance and knocking Claire over. Hanna stumbled into a streetlight, grabbing the post to keep herself from falling. The entire ground rumbled beneath them with cracks forming in the road. When the shaking stopped, they stood still, waiting to see if it would start up again. When it didn’t, Hanna looked over at Claire, who was on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“I scraped my knee,” Claire said, standing up. “Other than that, I’m fine.”

“And you?” Hanna asked as she turned around.

Eileen sat on the ground, hunched over with her head down and her hands squeezing her temples. She groaned with pain, rocking back and forth in the middle of the road.

“Eileen, what’s wrong?” Hanna asked, running over and kneeling beside her. Her eyes were locked shut, but tears leaked out from the sides. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Eileen did not respond. Her groans transformed into prolonged guttural grunts.

“What’s happening?” Claire asked, stepping forward to help. “Why is she doing that?”

Hanna stood up and shook her head. “This is bad. I’ve only seen this once before. It was the subject that almost overdosed on the sedative.”

“But that’s impossible. We didn’t sedate her this time. How does that make sense?”

“The last time this happened, we used Temazepam, and it’s the reason we switched to Passiflora. It was quite the experience.”

“If I recall, the word you used was gnarly.”

There was another streak of light in the sky and another loud crack. It was like the sound of two large islands smashing together. The ground shook under their feet again, this time with a more sustained rumble. Hanna stared in the direction of the sound. “Things are certainly about to get gnarly.”

The dark, smoky clouds rolled closer, bringing with them a strong gust of wind that scattered leaves into the street. The constant ringing tone grew louder. Off in the distance, houses uprooted from the ground and started to float, ascending into the sky with chunks of debris falling back down. A lightning bolt shot from the clouds and struck one of the other houses. The thunderous clap rolled through the neighborhood as the house plucked up like a daisy out of dirt, floating into the air like the houses around it.

Claire watched with awe, stepping back as the wind tossed her hair. “What in the world?”

“She’s experiencing dissociation,” Hanna said. “Her conscious mind is detaching from her own self-identity. Her thoughts are becoming separate entities. This place is her insular cortex. It’s responsible for her own self-awareness. It’s what she associates the most with as a person, and now it’s crumbling apart.” She watched another house float up. “This has to be Temazepam. There’s no other explanation.”

“She passed out,” Claire said, standing over Eileen’s unconscious body. “What do we do?”

“We protect her. Russell can’t pull her out while she’s under, and if she dies in here, she dies out there. We have to stay and make sure she’s safe.” She pointed to the clouds that were rolling toward them. “We have to protect her from that storm.”

“We sedated her last time, and she didn’t pass out. She was fine.”

“This is a stronger dose. One vial of Temazepam is at least five times stronger than the dose of Passiflora we gave her, with more invasive side effects.”

“How long will she be out?”

“It’s hard to tell. This has only happened once before. The host was out for ten minutes or so. After that, he woke up and the other side effects went away. Eileen passed out pretty fast though. I think the Temazepam is hitting her hard. It could be ten minutes. It could be a couple of hours. Our job is to make sure she’s safe until she wakes up. And remember, we’re in danger too. Be ready to extract yourself.” She looked at the clouds again. They were moving faster and the lightning was striking more often. Beneath the floating houses, the ground was breaking apart, sending shards of rock into the air and leaving a void of emptiness in its place. “Come on. Help me pick her up. We can’t stay here.”

Claire bent down and hoisted Eileen’s body over her shoulder. “I’ve got her. You lead the way.”

Hanna pointed away from the storm. “This way. Follow me.”

They ran down the middle of the road, following the faded yellow lines. The sun projected a reddish glow, unaffected by the intense darkness of the incoming clouds. The light scattered through the houses as they crumbled apart, casting fragments of shadows on the cracked pavement. The ringing noise grew even louder, accompanied by claps of thunder and the grating clash of crumbling ground. The streetlights crumpled in on themselves like empty soda cans, folding one by one in a line down the road. A strong gust of wind pulled one of the branches down and tossed it into their path. Hanna hurdled over the obstacle and continued to run. When she heard Claire call for help, she stopped and spun around.

A second, larger branch had knocked Claire over and pinned her to the street. Eileen’s body had tumbled in front of her. Hanna rushed over, grabbing the underside of the branch and pulling up with all of her strength. The branch lifted just enough for Claire to slip out.

“Are you okay?” Hanna asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s move.”

Hanna glanced at the incoming clouds. They were moving even faster now, closing the distance between them and destruction. She ran to Eileen’s body and lifted her up, cradling her in front. “I’ll take her this time. We’ll switch off.”

Claire nodded and ran ahead.

Hanna circled around the fallen branch and followed Claire’s lead. She prayed for Eileen to wake up. The clouds continued to move at a pace that the two of them would not be able to outrun.

“Down there,” Claire said, projecting her voice over the rest of the noise. “It’s the end of the road. Another cul-de-sac.” They followed the road straight ahead and into the circle of houses. “Where now?”

“Into the backyard,” Hanna said, hobbling along with Eileen in her arms.

They ran past the house at the end of the cul-de-sac and into the backyard, where a ten-foot-high wooden fence was blocking their way.

Claire glanced at the top of the fence. “Do we go over?”

“I don’t think we can,” Hanna said, looking for handholds. “It’s too tall. And there’s no way to get Eileen over.”

“What do we do then?”

Hanna passed Eileen back to Claire and picked up a shovel that was leaning against the side of the house. She approached the fence and struck it as hard as she could. A sharp ping rang from the vibrating metal as it glanced off the surface and deflected away. The fence remained undamaged. Not a scrape. She hoisted the shovel up again, this time swinging it over her head like a sledgehammer. Another sharp ping rang out, but again, there was no damage.

She dropped the shovel and shook her head. “It’s not going to work. This is the location of her insular cortex. There’s nothing else behind this fence. It’s only the street and the cul-de-sac.”

“So, what do we do?”

Without answering, Hanna wandered around to the front of the house, walking to the middle of the cul-de-sac and staring at the impending wave of destruction. The lightning strikes were even more frequent, with three or four shooting down at once, supercharging every house they hit and ripping them from their foundations. A whirlwind of debris whipped through the air, smashing windows, and destroying mailboxes. Behind the storm, the ground shattered into disjointed fragments, leaving nothing but empty space.

“Hanna,” Claire said, following her into the street with Eileen over her shoulder. “What the hell do we do?”

Hanna turned around to face her. “We wait for it to come. We keep Eileen safe for as long as we can. We pray to God she wakes up. And if she doesn’t, we extract. But not until I say so.”

Claire nodded. They both knew it was a long shot, but they were out of options. They stood together in the center of the circle and watched the mayhem come.

Eight houses in the cul-de-sac surrounded them. All eight front doors opened at once, and stepping through each one was a copy of the same man. It was Eileen’s father. Eight identical clones. They all shut the doors behind them and stared out at the center of the circle, watching Claire and Hanna.

“This can’t be good,” Claire said, swiveling her head.

“No, it can’t. We were barely able to fight off one of him. There’s no way we can take on eight.”

“They’re not doing anything. They’re just looking at us. If we don’t move, maybe they’ll leave us alone.” As she finished her sentence, all eight men bolted forward, sprinting toward them. “There goes that theory.” She backed away, heading down the street.

“Not toward the storm,” Hanna said. “Go that way.”

Claire changed directions, pushing through the first clone. Two more lunged forward to tackle her. She tumbled over, dropping Eileen. The eight men ran over and piled on top of her. “Do we extract?” she yelled from the bottom of the pile.

“Not yet!” Hanna answered, hoping Claire could hear her through the madness. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

She charged toward the huddle of men and rammed into the side, knocking two of them over. While they were down, she stomped one in the face and kicked the other in the gut. She grabbed another by the collar and yanked him off the pile. As he stumbled back, she jabbed him in the nose.

As she reached to grab another from the pile, the first two got back up. One grabbed her arms from behind, while the other struck her in the stomach. The first blow stole her breath, and before she could recover, the second blow hit.

She swung the back of her head into the first clone’s jaw. A sharp sting jolted her skull as the man’s bony chin dug into her scalp. For a brief moment, his grip loosened.

As a third punch was about to land, she lifted her foot and kicked off the chest of the man in front of her. The force of the kick sent all three of them to the ground, Hanna landing on top of the man behind her. His grip released, setting her free.

She glanced at Claire, who had broken free from the pile and crawled away with one of the clones clawing her leg. Eileen’s body had rolled away, with the rest of the clones moving toward her. Hanna sprung up from the ground and kicked the clawing culprit away from Claire.

“Come on,” she said without stopping. “Get inside the house. I’ll get Eileen.” She sprinted at the two men closest to Eileen and shoved them from behind. They toppled over, skidding across the pavement. She scooped up Eileen, turned toward the nearest house, and ran for her life as all eight clones chased her.

Claire held the front door open, waving for Hanna to hurry. The moment she passed the threshold, Claire slammed the door shut and turned the lock. She pushed her back against the door as the eight identical men pounded on it from the other side.

Hanna dropped Eileen on the couch and hurried back to help with the door. She searched the room for a barricade and settled on a nearby bookshelf. They slid it in front of the door and stepped back to assess their work.

“No,” Claire said. “We need something bigger.” She ran to the kitchen.

“It’s a deadbolt,” Hanna said. “They’re not getting through.”

“There are eight of them,” Claire yelled from the other room. “They’ll just kick it open. Now come over here and help me move this refrigerator.”

“If the two of us can move it, it’s not going to stop eight of them.”

Claire returned to the living room. “So, what do we do? Just let them in?”

The pounding stopped, leaving only the sound of the incoming storm. The lightning was now alarmingly close. Hanna kept her eyes on the door, clenching her fists with anticipation, waiting for the door to burst open.

Before she could answer Claire’s question, the living room window shattered. One of the clones tried to climb through, but Hanna ran over and kicked him out. Two more grabbed her leg, trying to pull her through the window.

Claire grabbed the wooden bat leaning against the wall and ran across the room to help. She swung the bat at the two men, hitting one but missing the other. They both maintained their grip on Hanna’s leg. She swung again, this time striking both and setting Hanna free. Hanna stumbled onto the floor, landing inches from a jagged shard of glass.

A dark cloud loomed over the house, bringing with it an ominous shadow. Hanna stood up and looked out the window. The storm had overcome the entire neighborhood. Every house floated in the air, rising up over their heads. The houses in the distance had shattered in the sky, now only fragments of splintered wood. And beyond the shattered houses, pure nothingness consumed all.

A clap of thunder and lightning crashed into the house, stealing Hanna’s ability to hear, and leaving her with only a ringing tone.

Stunned by the sudden surge of energy that was channeling through the house, she crawled along the floor and searched for the couch to check on Eileen. The floor shifted, knocking her onto the piece of glass. The sharp edge pierced her side, staining her shirt with blood.

“The house,” Claire said, leaning against the wall to keep her balance. “It’s floating like the others. We’re in the air.” She stared at the bloodstain on Hanna’s shirt. “We’re extracting.”

“No,” Hanna said, glancing at Eileen, who was still on the couch. “She still has time to wake up.”

“How much longer can we wait?”

Behind Claire, one of the men had clung onto the window frame and was climbing through. “Look out,” Hanna said.

Claire spun around and charged at the man. She swung the wooden bat at his head and shoved him toward the broken window. He crashed into the windowsill and flopped over the edge.

She leaned out to watch him fall, wincing when he hit the ground. “We’re up high now.”

“That’s good. We wouldn’t have held them off much longer.”

The house creaked and moaned as the entire room shook. Claire crouched, grasping the window frame. The wooden floor splintered as the living room split in half, cracking through the middle and separating into two pieces.

Hanna found herself on one side with Eileen, while Claire stood across the gap. The two halves of the fractured house drifted apart, exposing them to the open sky.

“That’s not good,” Claire shouted over the strong, howling wind.

Hanna glanced through the widening gap, staring at the ground below. They were higher than she had thought, and still rising.

Eileen fell off the couch, rolling toward the edge of the floor as the room tilted. Hanna lunged from where she was, wrapping one arm around Eileen’s waist and grabbing the edge of the doorframe with her other.

“Damn it, Eileen. We really need you to wake up right now.”

The tilting stopped, and then changed direction, twisting toward the kitchen. She let go of Eileen’s body to examine the wound in her side. It was no worse than it was before. She turned to check on Claire across the gap, who was struggling to balance as her half of the house tilted forward. Hanna lifted Eileen off the floor, hoping to move her to the kitchen, away from the open gap. Before she could make it halfway, the house creaked and moaned again.

She stopped and braced her hip against the wall as the room shook. When she looked back across the gap, Claire was doing the same. Under Claire’s feet, another crack was forming.

“Look out!” Hanna yelled.

Claire cupped her hand behind her ear, signaling to repeat the unheard words. Before Hanna could warn her again, the crack pulled apart, and Claire fell through.

At that moment, the same thing happened to Hanna. The floor split apart, and she fell through the gap.

The three of them plummeted toward the ground with dirt and debris falling around them. Eileen was still passed out, spinning out of control as chunks of concrete slammed into her body. Claire and Hanna weaved through the falling wreckage, watching the ground race toward them.

“Now!” Hanna yelled. “Extract now!”

Claire nodded and closed her eyes. After a moment, her body vanished.

Hanna flipped over, watching Eileen drift farther away. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Then, with deep regret, she closed her eyes to extract, abandoning her chance to exonerate an innocent woman.

 

*****

 

Hanna’s eyes shot open as she woke up in her chair. She pulled off her headband and jumped out of her seat.

“What the hell happened?” Russell asked, pointing at one of the monitors. “Eileen’s brain activity just plummeted. I haven’t pulled her out yet.”

Hanna rushed over to Eileen’s chair and placed two fingers on her pulse. There was none. “She’s dead.”

Russell stood from the control panel. “Dead? What did you do to her in there?”

Hanna ignored the question and searched Eileen’s pockets.

With no answer from Hanna, he turned to Claire. “What did you do to her?”

Claire scooped the paper cup off the floor and brought it to her nose. “We didn’t do anything. Things got crazy before we even started.”

“Crazy? What kind of crazy?”

Hanna found nothing in Eileen’s pants pockets and moved onto her breast pocket, where she found two empty vials. “Temazepam crazy,” she said, holding them up. “The whole session was out of control because someone gave her two vials of Temazepam.”

Arthur glanced at the milkcrate of sedatives. “She must have nicked them during the scuffle and slipped them into her water. We shouldn’t have let her walk around like that.”

Hanna gave Arthur a curious look. “You think she did this to herself? Why would she do that?”

“Because we backed her into a corner,” Howard said. “She knew we were going to find out the truth, and she decided to take her own life instead of living the rest of it in prison.”

Claire placed the cup on the counter and stood beside Hanna. “She fought against us all this way, and now you think she just gave up?”

“I think this was her way of fighting back. She went out on her own terms.”

“It makes sense to me,” Charles said. “There was already substantial evidence against her, and with all of this talk about her dorsolateral prefrontal cortex.” He shook his head and shrugged. “She felt she had no other choice.”

“So, what now?” Hanna asked.

“As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed. There’s some cleanup to do regarding Ms. Warner’s death, not to mention dealing with the press, but your work is done.”

“The press will eat this up,” Howard said. “And for once, we come out looking like the good guys. The team who caught the Beantown Slasher. It’s about time the SCB gets a little positive coverage.”

“I would have preferred to take her alive,” Charles said, “but removing a killer from the street is always a good thing. Hanna, we’ll finish your paperwork back at SCB headquarters. Once you sign, you’ll receive your payment. The SCB thanks you for your help. Lenny, call this in. Get someone to bag her up.”

The others cleared the room, but Hanna stayed behind. She stared at the dead body, lowering her head with shame, repeating her final words to Eileen. “I’m so sorry.”