Brink by Mikel Parry
Chapter 13 - Big blue

CH-BIG BLUE

Thomas woke up screaming. Sharp bolts of stinging pain raced around his body like a swarm of frenzied ants. He had lost himself; lost himself completely to the immense force that had so nearly taken his life. A beautiful game of chess masterfully planned and executed by the unforeseen killer. How many intricate details had it taken? The sick cook, the timing, the location, and the execution. In a sick way he admired whoever was doing this. They, much like him, seemed to be plagued by their gift, their obsession. Their efforts to purge themselves clean of it had led to this.

“Hello?”

Thomas let out another scream and opened his eyes. A slender beam of light fell around his head, giving him an angelic aura. He looked over his body and saw some deep cuts and gashes that had been carefully bandaged. He could still feel the heat from the room. One faulty pipe, negligently forgotten, as one lunatic David Schilling went on a quest, forgoing his agreed upon schedule. A pipe that one spectacular weekend had broken free within the wall, spewing out a recipe for disaster. The smell had been there; just enough to be detected. But the cook had been sick—his thoughts, somewhere else. It wasn’t his job to care; after all, they had maintenance people for that. All it took was a spark to ignite the time-created bomb, blowing up one unsuspecting agent sitting in the bathroom sky high. A literal trail of interconnected subtleties and clues that the killer had left behind that had finally lead up to an explosive end.

You’re good, really good.

“Thomas, are you okay?”

Thomas looked over and saw Banks standing by what looked to be a hospital bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine . . . just really shaken up.”

“You had me worried back there. Whole place went to hell; never seen anything like it.”

Thomas looked past Banks and scanned the room. He thought he must be in a hospital; all visual cues pointed in that direction.

“The Agent . . . Agent Reynolds . . . is he—”

Banks closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Pulled the damn carpet right out from under us. He didn’t stand a chance. But at least it was quick.”

Thomas felt a sharp pain in his heart. He had lost again. Although Agent Reynolds had meant virtually nothing to him, the reality that he was gone reminded him of the game at hand. He couldn’t let it continue like this.

“I need to get out of here. I don’t have time for this.”

Banks stuck his hand out in protest.

“You need to rest—you’re half-way to death—you can’t keep running on empty like this.”

Thomas cringed. He didn’t care. Instinctively, he reached up for his hat.

“My hat! Where’s my hat?”

The sudden change in tone shook Banks out of his slightly melancholy state. He responded by walking over to a rack behind the door.

“It’s here, relax.”

Thomas snatched it away from Banks and grimaced. Its once vibrant red was now mixed with a dark charcoal singed around its edge.

“It was all there again. But I couldn’t connect it fast enough. Whoever is doing this is playing off my ignorance. I have no memory of these places or things.”

Banks took a deep breath.

“Look, Thomas—that may be true, but it won’t matter if we all die. We still don’t even have a lead on this guy. The organization I work for is growing restless. We need results. This just proves that no one’s safe; not even us.”

“Then get me out of here. I can heal later. We need to glimpse again, follow the ripples, and destroy their creator. I’m done playing nice.”

Banks looked surprisingly put off by Thomas’ sudden courage but acknowledged the task. Looking swiftly down at his watch, he nodded.

“Get dressed; I’ll take care of the rest. I made sure they didn’t touch anything they weren’t supposed to.”

Banks walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

In a tornado of movement, Thomas gathered his effects, dressed himself, and began heading towards the door. As he did, he was suddenly troubled by the absence of something. His anal attention to detail wouldn’t let him move forward without an answer. He slowly scanned himself and realized his watch was gone. Pushing on the hospital door, his wounds hollered in pain. It would take some time before he’d feel whole again. But being blasted unconscious had provided him with some much needed rest, even if it was by force.

Keep it together, Tommy. You’ve got work to do.

Banks was standing just outside of the hospital door. He gave Thomas a once-over and then smiled broadly.

“That hat . . . it really is something.”

Thomas frowned.

“Just stick to the plan, alright?”

Banks’s smile faded to a frown. He suddenly shifted his emotional standpoint.

“Roslin wants us back at base. He’s not happy with any of this.”

“And why should I care? The guy is a complete tool!”

Banks’s frown dug even deeper into his scruffy face.

“I think it’s something personal. It’s not like him to do this.”

“Personal, with Roslin? Is that even possible?”

Without saying a word, Banks turned to leave the hospital, Thomas following. Like the master leading the student, Banks’s experience was still directing Thomas’ gift. Neither could free themselves of each other’s limitations. They would have to rely on each other at every turn.

Returning to the facility, Thomas saw immediately that something had changed. Things had been tainted. The once impervious fortress now looked like a revolving door of possibilities. Every agent, every item, and every detail posed a viable threat. But as with any malicious plot, it had a direction. It was that direction that Thomas intended to divulge. He needed to understand the overall picture in order to get a step ahead—but to do so might mean sacrifices—sacrifices that could very well include his life.

“Gentlemen, it’s good to see you both alive.”

The hard-nosed tone of voice could belong to no one but Roslin. He met the duo head-on in the hallway they were walking through. His face looked contorted and worn. The especially long hours of his unforgiving schedule were starting to take their toll on him. Who knew what skeletons a man of such power and secrecy had in his closet?

“I need to glimpse. But I can’t do it without Jo,” stated Thomas, disregarding all formality.

“Mr. Ghune, I hate to remind you of the reality here. We just lost another agent. An agent we had under protection that was still blown to pieces in a diner. Now, follow me.”

Thomas had so much more to say. He had been so close; so close to narrowing the wide gap between himself and the killer. Despite the lingering scent of charred flesh and blood, he had been there; right at the precipice of stopping it from ever happening.

Roslin moved with purpose. He looked largely upset at the seemingly endless stream of problems he suffered valiantly. There was obviously a burning fire in him that just could not and would not be extinguished. Going through the layers of protocol, they finally walked into the white room. Thomas erupted.

“Look, I appreciate all of the games but—”

“No! You look!” interrupted Roslin. “I’ve got another dead agent, I’ve got a killer on the loose altering reality, and you’re not doing your job! We brought you here to do one thing and you’re not doing it!”

His brash tone spurred Thomas into a defensive posture.

“I’m doing the best I can. If you think you can do better, then by all means, please, go ahead. At least I was close!”

“Close? Close? Who cares if you were close? Agent Reynolds is still dead! An agent who was under our protection was killed! It’s plain and simple. The astronomical resources we put into this project need justification, and so far there is none. We need results!”

Thomas noticed the slight change in resonance in Roslin’s voice. Something was different about this; something was personal. Although he couldn’t even begin to understand the persona that made Roslin Tanner, Roslin Tanner, he understood loss. He had experienced it intimately. The same rage dwelt within him as well. This led him to a bold yet conclusive statement.

“Something happened; not to any of us, but to you; didn’t it? This isn’t just about the case anymore, someone got to you.”

Roslin looked poised to blast Thomas across the face with a tightly clenched fist. But the carefully constructed words from Thomas had found their mark. Within Roslin’s drumming heart there was a harmonization of truth; a truth he had been too proud to admit, until now. He suddenly couldn’t seem to muster the energy to speak. It was his silence that finally planted the seed of truth in Thomas’ mind; Roslin had been hurt.

“Look, I get it, alright? You’re the big, bad director in some secret organization. Really, I get it . . . must have felt nice being untouchable until now. But if you’re going to rip me then you better start telling me the truth! Whoever this is has a direction. And if there’s a history, I better know about it.”

Roslin paced away from Thomas, allowing his shoulders to slump down for just a moment. It appeared he had an internal battle waging that just wouldn’t subside. Becoming human would mean losing his immortality. But in order to succeed he’d have to, less he lose everything.

“You see a lot of things when you’re in a job like mine . . . a lot of things. Some are beyond belief; others . . . others just get locked away in some dark place. But the one thing you always hold as pure is family. Family, in one shape or another, is all you’ve really got at the end of it all. But I left that behind ages ago. Protection, progress, results—those were the reasons—I was ready to handle the consequences, until now.”

Thomas glanced at Banks who was eyeing Roslin intently, watching his every move and reaction. It appeared that he had never seen Roslin like this. Thomas looked back at Roslin, who was facing the two of them directly now.

“I received a message this morning. A message that only held meaning for one person and one person alone.”

Roslin pulled out an old baseball glove. The worn, aged leather stood as a testament to its place in history. Years of playing catch had shaped it to a conforming fit.

“My brother is missing. He disappeared this morning. Whoever is doing this has just raised the stakes. Now it’s personal.”

Thomas analyzed the glove, then Roslin. The two were now tied together. Their history was unknown but the sentimental attachment was clear. It was lonely at the top for a man like Roslin, but even he had a heart. It was a heart encaged in secrecy, lies, and deceit, but it still felt the harrowing pain of losing a loved one.

“When did you last have contact?” probed Thomas.

“Haven’t—not for years—that’s part of being me.”

Thomas nodded his head. He had already known the answer.

“Sir, had I known I wouldn’t have just barged in here with Mr. Ghune.”

Roslin put up a hand to stop Banks’s apologetic tone.

“Don’t, just don’t. That’s what whoever did this would want us to do—break down. We’ve got more important things to think about at the moment.”

Roslin’s finely tempered self had returned. All that remained was his chiseled, emotionless face. He quickly put the glove away and pointed towards an open white door.

“Jo’s waiting.”

Thomas took a step but paused. He had forgotten to mention something. His queue of priorities had omitted it until now.

“I’m missing my watch, or whatever you call it.”

Banks sprang up to his side. He slithered Thomas’ watch out from one of his pockets.

“Took it off you for safe keeping—you can never be too careful with something like this—I forgot to tell you.”

Thomas gave Banks a rather incredulous look of uncertainty. But all-in-all it made sense. If a nurse or someone else were to stumble on such a marvelous piece of technology, who knew what might happen. Even Thomas still had an inferiority complex when it came to its utilization. He took the watch from Banks who immediately looked back at Roslin. Roslin looked indifferent.

“Let’s get going. I don’t want to fall even further behind.”

“I expect the best from those I deem as such. Let’s not have this conversation again,” Roslin said as he left the room hurriedly.

“Does that guy ever stick around? Where’s he always going? What’s his job here, anyway?”

Banks disregarded Thomas’s curiosity driven questions.

“Jo, what can you tell me?”

Thomas looked up to see a befuddled Jo scrambling around his futuristic playset. An amazing array of technology was at his fingertips.

“We think we’ve got something—a systematic alteration that’s resonating—the probability of an accurate access point looks good.”

Jo fumbled his fingers around each other in anticipation.

“In English?” demanded Thomas.

Jo’s expression said it all; it was painful for him to have to drag himself down in order to give what he considered to be a child-like explanation to them.

“I’ve got a good point to glimpse to. Somebody’s screwing around in the past. Meaning, you need to get back, figure it out, and avoid another blast. The blast from the past . . .”

Jo’s eyes twinkled. His dark wit had struck again, but no one seemed to follow. His notion of the comical was far too twisted for anyone even slightly normal—even Thomas.

“Just give me a frame so we can glimpse,” said Banks, frowning.

Looking slightly deflated, Jo did as he was told. Turning around, he spouted out the numbers. Banks’s eyes widened.

“What, what is it?” asked Thomas.

“It’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. Let’s just get in there and finish the job.”

Thomas struggled to fight the urge to dig deeper. He resisted the temptation, at least for the time being.

“Can you at least give me a location, reference, something? I don’t want to keep rolling the dice.”

Jo let out a quiet snicker that was promptly chased away by Thomas’ scowling face.

“I’m sorry . . . it’s just . . . ironic; you asking all these questions. I was told you know everything; that you had an insatiable hunger for knowledge.”

Jo placed his hands up by his neck and practically purred.

“Please?”

Jo rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Where’s the fun in that? Fine . . . have it your way.”

Hammering away at some keys, he leaned in and adjusted his thick glasses. He grinned as the unbalanced glasses fell to the side again.

“Somewhere in the ocean . . . the ocean? That’s awesome! I’ve never seen it—come to think of it, there are a lot of things I’ve never seen—I really need to get out more.”

Thomas’ brain stalled for a moment. Had he heard Jo correctly? The ocean? Was he serious?

“Time to get moving. The longer we wait, the more that what happened amplifies.”

Rehearsing the steps, Thomas synced the data to his watch. The seamless interaction between it and him was now almost intuitive. He could feel the tension begin to swell up inside him. The vivid memory of his first trip ushered in waves of extreme sensations that frightened him.

“Thomas?”

“I’m ready . . . sorry.”

Reaching down to activate the device, he was stopped in his tracks by a frantic cry from Jo.

“No! No! Not in here! What are you, crazy? Don’t stand so close!”

Thomas rattled his head around trying to grasp the situation.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t light a fire next to the fireworks, do you? Seriously! That would create uber-levels of problems. You should never glimpse when someone is that close, especially someone with one of the watches!”

“Why?”

Jo’s mouth shot wide open and hung for a moment, as if the answer was blatantly obvious.

“Imagine if you damaged it or accidentally set it off; I mean, seriously bad juju there.”

Jo tenderly began shoving Thomas into the large white room.

“What if it gets damaged in the past? What if it breaks while I glimpse?”

The timid ushering ceased. Jo stood straight up and let his eyes wander. He looked woefully lost in his own intellect. But suddenly, the moment was interrupted by a gleeful shout, accompanied by a pointed finger.

“I don’t know! I have no idea what would happen if two identical energy patterns were trapped in the same time and space. Wow, you’re really giving me a headache with this!”

Thomas perused the prospects that ran into the walls of his own conclusions. He, too, was largely ignorant to just how fragile time could be, even in all of its seemingly infinite power. But would he be willing to test those bounds? Would he be willing to push the limits?

“That’s funny . . .”

Banks looked over at Thomas as he emerged from the technology filled room into the open white space.

“What?”

Thomas winked at Jo sarcastically.

“I thought Jo was the guy that was supposed to know everything.”

Jo grimaced. His pride had been dealt a well-placed blow. He quickly retreated back to his technologic cave, a slew of profanities slipping from his mouth.

“That guy is an absolute freak,” muttered Thomas.

Banks disregarded Thomas’ childish conversation. Instead, he opted to move forward.

“Please get this one right. I don’t want to state the obvious, but our lives do depend on it.”

The response the old Thomas would have given somehow never came. He had changed. His confidence was being dragged along a rocky road, one excruciating bump after another. Reaching down to activate his watch, he looked on as Banks distanced himself. Banks’s expression told more of the story. They were at risk of losing everything in this high stakes game of chess. They couldn’t fail.