Author: Bluesky
Warnings/Spoilers: AU, possibly considered pre-slash
Rating: (PG13 for language and violence) (note: from what I have read so far, may change if necessary depending on rest of story)
Summary: A younger Blair and Jim find themselves victims of an experiment gone wrong.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters belong to Pet Fly. Only borrowing for fun. Will promise to clean them up when done playing. Original ideas belong to the author.
Dark Awakenings
by Bluesky
Blair was trying hard to look and seem harmless. His windowless room in the underground facility was over-crowded by the two doctors and the security men that had come to collect him. Actually, there was one doctor dressed in typical scrubs, and the other doctor, who was also a Telepath, dressed entirely in black. He sat on his nest-like round bed, watching as the matronly black housekeeper went about cleaning his room, superstitiously making it ready for the next person or subject to accept this place. He steadfastly endured the glares of the security men, which contrasted sharply with the stream of comforting lies that was being spouted by the kindly seeming doctor. He was gifted enough to know that he was being lied to. He was a failed experiment to them, failing to live up to their expectations, too unpredictable and uncontrollable to be trusted, and too erratic to be allowed to continue.
His fate was that of all failed experiments here. Termination. He looked at the cold-faced Telepath, the one that hypothetically would be able to control and squelch him if he made a last ditch attempt at escape or retaliation. He had no stomach for that. In a distant way, he wished that this was just… over.
Blair looked up at the doctor, who was still speaking, stopping the stream of meaningless words that were spewing from his mouth. "Its OK. I understand what is going to happen. I can deal with it. Can I just ask if I can take a few things with me, it would be sort of comforting… you know… Last request and all, I have something that I would like to have with me at the end." He stated this calmly.
The two security men looked at the Telepath. He nodded. Blair was telling the truth. He was no risk. He was safe. Wordlessly the key to his desk was handed to him, and Blair went to the next room. Even then he was not alone. He never knew the name of the woman that changed his sheets, and sometimes gave him gifts and treats. But he knew that she was a semi-retired assassin, despite her grandmotherly appearance and menial tasks. She smiled at him, sad and resigned, and watched/not-watched as Blair unlocked his desk and looked for his few possessions. His favorite was a glass wolf that he had made of a green pop bottle, melting the glass and shaping it in an experiment into a wolf. He looked at it a bit critically, it was more fox- or dog-like than wolf, but for his first and only effort it was not that bad. He had made this with the power of his mind. Too bad that he could not recreate this. He might have found a useful niche with this talent. The next attempt had ended up setting fire to… Not good. Not good at all.
He scooped the talisman into a small cloth bag, and with an afterthought, the two small metal castles, things that he had made by more mundane means in a craft class. It was by rights all that he truly owned at this time. He tried to ignore the bags that sat by his dresser to hold his clothing when he was gone. The bed was made, and he had the small joy of looking at the room he had occupied for so long, looking like it would still be there for him, that he might be coming back.
He knew better. Failures were not tolerated. And a part of him had known that he would never leave here. For a moment he looked around, saying goodbye, making his way back to the other room knowing that the keeper behind him was sad, but if he tried any thing, she would kill him in a heartbeat.
"I am ready." Blair looked at the lab-coated man, and the one in black. They did not touch him. That was too risky, but they parted so that he could walk out the door, following the doctors and trailed by the other two. It was like the walk to death row. He would do this on his own power. If he gave them no problems, perhaps his end would be quick and easy.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
And another failure. The comatose man in the straitjacket was manhandled and dragged down the hall. The underground facilities had a system. Terminations were secluded to happen on a given day, to be more economic, to flush the system of failures and allow the book keeping to be neat. This was just one more bit of paper work. An experiment that failed. Meat for the lab. Now thrown away and taking up space and air. The still form was pulled as flat as possible and placed on the gurney, pushed to the entrance to the door, and as it would be a waste of manpower to stay with him, left. A clipboard rested on his chest. James Elision. Subject- Failed: Termination.
*******************************
Blair was subdued. A calming chant was filling his head, and to outward appearances he was resigned to his fate. And in truth he thought he was. At least on the surface. The sensitive that was monitoring him was aware only of the flat calm, the drug induced apathy that they were expecting. Under that Blair was thinking, panicking, looking for an opportunity to use his unpredictable and sometimes deadly abilities for a way out. If he could do it without hurting any one, he would. If he had to hurt any one… well, he had done that once. The image of the charred body falling just feet from him, incinerated in just a few minutes, charred and burned from the inside out, flashed before his eyes. He had not ever meant to do that.
Blair gripped the bag tightly, rubbing his glass figure, comforting himself with the smooth feel of it. He had made something good once. Oh, if only he could do that again.
The doctor stopped. The door to the room was ahead of them. Dimly, Blair noticed the gurney to one side, noticed the face of the man on it. Blue eyes staring up, chest rising softly up and down, slowly. He was alive. But if he was outside this room, it was not to be for long. What a pity. He had a handsome face, if a bit thin, dark hair receding from a high forehead, deep brow ridges and strong chin. Blair's heart gave a half-strangled leap. His own end he could accept. But this person… something about him… it was just wrong to end this life.
The men flanking him focused their attention on the figure by the door. Leaving a termination unguarded was against policy, it was highly unusual, ergo dangerous. Attention shifted away from Blair; bad timing for them. This was the door of death. The place most likely, if he were to bolt, for a last ditch effort to be made. They did not notice that Blair raised his hand and evoked the wild power within him, hopping that for once it would do his will, to disable not destroy, to stun not slay. This was the last hope, last chance for him, for the stranger that surely deserved to live even if he did not.
(2)
Blair closed his eyes. For the moment that the Telepath's focus was not on him, he had a chance. He envisioned the men around him unconscious, not dead, powerless, hoping that somehow his talent would work with him, not incinerate the concrete wall instead. He closed his eyes as a feeling of heat washed over him, a wave of energy that felt like a bucket of hot water being dumped on him. He gasped at the feeling, and opened his eyes, fearful of what he would see. To his relief he was not surrounded by crisp bodies. A quick inspection showed that they were all still alive. He did not question how he had done this, just accepted that he had a chance.
Blair made his way to the gurney. The man on it was still, whether drugged or a side effect of his doing, he did not know. Blair grabbed the chart and looked it over. There was no helpful information, just his name, status, and a work order for termination. A chain hung around his neck, with dog tags that matched the name on the chart. Military. That meant that he was not a monster that had been created by them. He was a human, same as Blair, before. Before they offered a hard-up collage student quick hard cash to be a guinea pig for what he was led to believe was a simple blood donor program. He had done it before, given plasma three times a week, to pay for lunch when he was broke. But what was given back in his blood… No time for that now. He had to get himself out of here. Had to get this hapless man out, too.
"Ellison!" He shook the man's shoulder. "James Ellison! Come on, man, we have got to get out of here!"
He debated for a moment trying to unload the man from the cart, to wake him. It was not happening. Inspiration hit. He quickly stripped the lab coat and ID from the unconscious doctor, and donned it along with one of the scrub masks and hair masks. He also used this time to open the door to the forbidden room. It was not as scary as he had thought. It was just an empty room with two tables in it and some equipment. No different than any of the rooms he had been in during his stay, however long that had been. He gave a quick look around. A shining stainless steel door lead to a freezer. The wrapped shapes were… bodies. He would have been added to that rank, and still might be if he were not quick.
He found some binding straps, surgical tape and leather manacles. He made short work of securing the four men to the two tables. His sense of humor led him to stack them in a compromising way, making sure their hands weren't within reach of anything useful to undo the bindings. Whoever found them would have blackmail material on them for years. He was not a killer, but he owed them. Owed them big. He had stripped the men of their clothing, leaving them buck-naked. The guy on the gurney looked to be about the same size as the Telepath, large and broad. The combination of street and scrub clothing could come in handy if they were to get out of here.
The task took less than twenty minutes. He hoped to God that no one would be looking for them for a while. Blair, dressed as a doctor pushing a gurney, should pass unnoticed. The only drawback was no pockets. He hid the bag with his talismans on the gurney. They had brought him luck so far.
He just might pass a casual inspection, with his stolen ID displayed. He looked down and had a moment's panic. His sneakers. He quickly switched shoes with a pair from the pile of clothing on the floor. They were a bit on the large size, a 9, while he took an 8 1/2. But such was life.
He took a random turn. The place was a maze, from what he could make of it. Out was up, at least he hoped so. But up meant stairs, or the elevators, security checks and…
He was never going to make it with an unconscious man. Hell, he might not even make it alone. He could not panic now. He picked a wall and decided to just follow it. He remembered reading that the quickest way to get out of a maze was to find a wall and keep to it. His room had been in one of the deepest parts of the maze, rock for walls and floors. Nothing flammable in his old room. It had been built that way. An idea struck him. They would be expecting him to head up and out.
A ramp led down. He took it. It might buy him some time. At least he could find an empty room and try and rouse the man that he was attempting to rescue. It seemed to be his only hope.
*******************************
He was in luck. This must be some sort of meeting room. There was a wet bar, snacks, beer, alcohol, a fridge and a microwave. A large oval table and several deep comfortable chairs furnished the room. He pulled the gurney in, closed the doors, and collapsed into one of the chairs. Man. This SO sucked. Or not. Raiding the mini-fridge produced wine, Brie, caviar, fresh cream, assorted snacks, and something that looked like M&M's but tasted better. There was a Coffee Espresso maker that had a frothier. Further investigation produced tins of smoked oysters, shrimp, and in the far back a can of pasta O's, hidden like a redheaded step-child. Blair pounced on the can, searching for a can opener. He was about to despair when he realized that the can had a pull-tab lid.
Food. Real food. He fell on it without even heating it. He sat back with a sigh, his problems diminished for the moment. Then his eyes fell on Jim. Damn. Getting him off of the gurney and out of the straitjacket would be a risk. He could not get him back up on the platform, let alone back into the jacket if necessary, that was for sure. He balanced his choices. Jim could be in the jacket for a reason. He could be a raving madman that would tear him apart. Blair shrugged. He would take his chances.
It was a nearly impossible task to get the near-dead weight of one Jim Elision off of the gurney and out of the straitjacket. He had PJ's on underneath, thank goodness. But Blair still had to rouse him and get his cooperation in an escape. Blair soaked one of the linen napkins in warm water from the bathroom and began to bath the man's face with it, talking softly to Jim the whole time.
"Ellison, I really want you to wake up now. I am really wishing that you were able to talk to me. We need each other to get out of here, man. What did they do to you? Freaking bastards, with their drugs, and playing with people's lives. If I… If we get out of here, I am so writing my congressman!" He sighed deeply, and re-wetted the cloth "This is not how I want my tax dollars spent. Assuming that this is a US Government inspected and approved facility… "
"It's not. " Jim Ellison blinked a few times and stretched his rigid, stiff limbs. "It's sort of masquerading as one. Sort of like you're doing now. Or are you really Dr. McCoy?"
"No way man! I was, I am a college student at Rainier. I got suckered into being a human lab rat. A thousand a week to give up plasma every day. They told me it was supposed to be for cancer research."
"What was it that they were researching?" Jim looked him over, detached but curious.
"Doesn't matter. Whatever it was I failed. Was marked for termination. So were you, man. That's how I… we got away."
"How exactly did you *get away*? You overcame at least two guards?"
"Whacked them across the back of the head when they weren't looking," Blair replied flippantly, hefting his cloth bag, a convincing clink of metal coming from it. He smiled uneasily.
Jim hummed. The kid was lying about something. But for now he would take him at face value. He was not one of the Keepers. He was not cut from that sort of cloth. Something was shaky about the kid. He had to be about eighteen or nineteen at the most. His story about being a test subject sounded valid. Well, his misgivings would have to go on the back burner. There were more pressing matters. Like where the bathroom was.
Jim stood. And nearly fell back down. Only the quick thinking and action of the kid grabbing him kept him from being one with the floor.
"Easy, big guy!" The kid guided him back to the chair. "Name's Blair Sandburg by the way."
"Jim Ellison." The wave of dizziness was passing. The pressure on his bladder was not.
"I know. I saw it on your termination order. And your dog tags." Blair noted Jim's visual search of the room. "The bathroom's back there. The chair has gliders on it. Let me help you."
"I can make it on my own, thank you." Jim made another stab at getting on his feet.
"Whoa. Slow down. You get yourself hurt with any macho bullshit and you're signing both our death warrants. I need you to be in one piece to get us out of here. Now, let me help you. Small steps. I don't know how long you were like that, catatonic, but it was way too long however long it was."
Jim dropped back with a sigh. "What ever you say, Chief." This was not going to be fun.
(3)
Food was a good thing. Jim tucked into the tinned fish like a starving man. Blair nibbled at the Brie and crackers, debated about the wine, and decided to forgo the rather nice two hundred buck bottles of wine and one hundred year old Scotch. He did get a bottle of vodka and a linen napkin with the idea that he might be able to make a firebomb with it. Not that he really needed it. But it might come in handy. Jim was dressed in the man-in-black outfit. It fit him reasonably well, enough that on a precursory look he would pass for a person that was supposed to be here. Now, it was just a matter time until they were discovered to be still alive, or the people that were left tied up were found.
"So I put two of them in a 69, taped so that neither of them can move or scream for help, and the dear doc and the Telepath doggy style. They might even thank me later." The evil gleam in Blair's eye gave mute testimony as to how much he truly thought that he would receive any thanks from the men that intended to kill him.
"What about the Telepath, can't he call for help?" Jim frowned for a moment, worried about that eventuality.
"He would need this. It's an amplifier. Helps him read and suppress people. Without it, he is sort of limited to touch. And the only mind that he can read is that of a guy who is naked and tied to him, and has the hots for him just a bit around the edges." Blair put on device that looked like a watch. At least it told the time. And it might be of some help, if things got sticky.
"Right." Jim looked at the two guns that Blair had liberated from the aforementioned men. There were only two bullets in each one of them. A security measure that was reasonable in a facility like this one. Doubtless in case of an emergency, it would be easy to get more rounds, but if the guns fell into the wrong hands… well… that would be us, Jim thought grimly.
(4)
"We can't stay here very long." Jim was still a little weak, but steadier on his feet than he had been an hour ago. He was recovering much faster than Blair had hoped.
Blair nodded. "I would love to know what this place is. I mean, I know that they're into research and the paranormal, and making mutants out of collage guys, but why did they have you? Every one else that I ever saw, and granted, that was only three people, were like…"
"Young males from the age of eighteen to twenty-four?" Jim gave a grim smile. "That is the age that is most flexible to taking orders, to being shaped into whatever the system needs. I was a special case. I had just gotten back from being on a mission. I had been stranded in the jungle for eighteen months, and in the debriefing someone noticed something about me that struck their fancy. Most of it is a blur, but they were trying to find out if I was a precog, as I would know things a few second before it happened." Jim gave a grim smile. "Whatever you do, never reach for a phone just before it is about to ring or go to answer the door before the knock around a Dr. Bowman. He had me in this place so fast it made my head spin. Most of it is a blur, but I just was not what they thought I was."
Jim gave a weary sigh, and wiped his hand across his face. "This is a top-secret facility. I don't believe the US government sanctions it, but a lot of high government types are involved in it. I have recognized some of them. I'm just special ops, a guy trying to do his job. These people are trying to make a super human weapon, an assassin that is able to take out a target with no outside assistance or weapons."
"Sort of like a James Bond without a Q back up?" Blair's quip was met with a look of wry amusement.
"James Bond was based on a real person. These people are trying to base it on science fiction. You hear things when people think that you're in a cationic state. They had one kid here that could start a car with no battery, and an another that could burn people alive." Blair started shaking. Him. Jim was talking about him.
"What's the matter?" Jim turned to look at Blair.
"You're… You just…"
"What's wrong?" Concern filled Jim's blue eyes.
"That's me." Blair closed his eyes, reliving the horror of watching a human being charred from the inside out.
"You can start a car without a battery?" Jim sat perfectly still, just watching.
"NO… I… It was so horrible. He never did any thing to me. He was just some techie, and he was trying to get me to do some test. I had just about had it at that point. All I wanted was to get out of here. I lost it."
"If he was working here he was just as guilty as any of the higher-ups. You can't work in a place like this without knowing what they're trying to do. There are no innocents in an organization like this one. Anyone that walks in here of their own volition is a killer at heart. Let go of it, Sandburg. These men had no problem with putting you down, or me for that matter, the moment that we were inconvenient. Anyone that gets in our way on the way out is just that. Something in the way."
"But it wasn't that bad, in the beginning. I was told that I had some sort of reaction to… Shit. They had me on drugs. Every thing that they did to me seemed so reasonable. They said they were trying to help me. Gave me this bullshit about having a psychic power, that I needed to be protected, that's why I was underground. I have always been open to things like that. My Mom and I have been to places and seen things like… Well, I know it's real. I guess a part of me wanted to have some gift. I wanted to see auras, to know the future." Blair took a deep breath. "I want to believe." This last he did in a bad Fox Mulder voice.
"Right. You've been watching too much X-Files. For that matter, so have those people. Forget everything that you ever saw from that show. They have no such sentiments about keeping alive an enemy out of some misguided sympathy. There are no continuing characters. We are expendable to them. They are expendable to us. We do what we need to do to get out of here. It's not just us. There may be many more people that this place has held. And how many more do you think this place is going to take? How many missing collage students, MIA runaway kids, wives, what not do you think have ended up here? Oh, some they put back, with missing memories and UFO kidnapping stories, but most end up dead. We are lab rats to them. Buck up, Sandburg. You will NOT lose it! You used your head and took advantage of a situation, and saved your life and mine."
"Right. OK. I am together. I just get panic attacks some times. But I am ok now." Blair took a deep cleansing breath. "I am letting this go. I am letting this go…"
"Don't let it go too far. If you need to be pissed off to have your powers work, you night need to get mad in a hurry." The look on Jim's face was that of a commanding officer, used to ordering men into battle, into life and death situations. "I cannot afford to coddle some civilian. You had damned well better learn the rules of war, damn soon. The first rule is that there are no rules in a situation like this. The second rule is you do what ever you have to to stay alive. We are going into this together. We are going to get out of this together. You're going to watch my back, I am going to watch yours. We have to trust each other."
"Man. This is so not what I wanted to be doing for my summer vacation. I was going to earn some bread, then head out for a expedition, get some native flavor, do a few papers, do some research, and chill out."
"Consider yourself drafted." Jim checked out one of the guns and attempted to hand it to Blair.
"No way, man. I can't…I hate guns. " Blair tried to put his hand behind his back.
"You're my back up. As of this moment, I am your best friend, and this is your second best friend. There are only two bullets. Do not waste them. This is the safety. You need to fire, you have to take this off first. You aim at the body, not the feet not the arms but the body. A headshot is too chancy. In a situation you stay behind me. I tell you to move, you move. I tell you to stay, you stay. I am going to get you out of this alive, but you're going to have to do every thing that I say."
"Man, this SO sucks." Blair grabbed his cloth bag with his talisman, dropped in the small bottle of vodka wrapped in a linen napkin and a can of smoked oysters. He was a college student. You never turned down free food, even when it is not offered. And who knew what was up the road. He just wanted to be prepared for any thing.
(5)
"What about surveillance cameras… and guards… and… well… " Blair hung back for a second as the facts began to dawn on him. "Look at this place."
Jim touched the rock that made up the corridor that they were in. "This place is old, like maybe from the 20's. It's an artifact. Might have been some sort of bunker or secret hide out or something that is not on the books any place. To wire this place for that sort of surveillance would be very hard. And who watches the watchers? Believe me, the people here want no hard evidence about any thing here getting out. I think that there are less than twenty people involved in this project in all. That's all the different…" Jim stopped, unsure of how to go on.
"Different what?" Blair asked, intent on the passageway ahead and behind, glancing up at Jim.
"Different smells. People smell different, that's all." Jim frowned uncomfortably. "Some people are smokers, some eat a garlic bagel every day, some… it's hard to explain. The cleaning woman, she would talk to me. She smelled like White Shoulders. Not the perfume, but a body lotion. It was very faint, but I always knew when she was coming to my room. She was so quiet, I could hardly hear her coming. The rest, well each person had a different walk, way of breathing. All that I could do was hear them coming for me."
"Wait, Jim, are you saying that you have heightened senses? Oh, man, no wonder they thought that you were psychic! If you could hear someone coming, to them it would look like you could see into the future. MAN!" Blair bounced. "You have a inside track into the about to be! And thy missed it because you just did not fit into what their hypothesis was! Wow!" Blair nearly lost his life at that moment when he hugged Jim. "I bet you have all five heightened senses. Right? "
"Later. This is NOT the time or place!" Jim ungently pushed Blair off of him.
"MAN! Our chances for getting out of here are suddenly looking so much better! You're a Sentinel! Damn! They had a gold mine right in front of them, and they… Oh, MY GOD… They were going to kill you! You were what they wanted and they were just going to waste you. Talk about you short-sighted pig-headed government…"
"This is not my government. These are people that are acting outside of it. At least I hope so. This had military people in it, but it is not a military operation. It's too sloppy, and too whacked out for anyone to believe. I mean, trying to make psychic super soldiers, telepaths that can control and kill… Ah, sorry, Sandburg. It just seems way too over the top."
"Maybe they were looking for people that had a talent and used drugs and conditioning to make that talent come out. I mean, isolation can bring forth a lot of hidden things. I bet your super senses were heightened in your time in the jungle!"
"Can we not talk about this now? And how do you know so much about it?" Jim checked the cross-section of the corridor. Left, then right. It was clear, but still he hesitated.
"Burton, Richard Burton. He wrote the book on Sentinels. It has been my dream to study them, look for modern sentinels. You could be one!" Blair noticed Jim's hesitation at the intersection. "What's up?"
"Something, well… It feels like there is something down that way."
"Use your hearing. Tell me what you hear, focus on that."
"I have been trying. It's not that… it's… something else."
"Put your fingers on the rock. See if you can feel anything, vibrations, anything."
Jim complied. He rested his fingertips gently on first one side of the wall then the opposite. "There is a vibration coming from the right. Feels like some sort of hum, like a power plant."
"Let's check it out. Do you hear any voices or any sounds that could be people?" Jim shook his head and they proceeded.
********************
"WOW!! Would you look at that? Flash Gordon would eat his heart out!" Blair started forward.
"I don't think that we should get too close to it. Just a feeling I'm getting."
"Whatever you say, Jim." Blair stepped back and just watched Jim. He had been observing him ever since he had been clued in to the fact that he could be a sentinel. So far he was convinced that he was. He had to be.
Jim moved slowly around, scanning the room, appraising, looking for… "I think I see a way out." Jim pulled Blair to one side and had him look up. "See where the color of the rock is different there? I bet this is were they brought in the equipment." Jim went along the wall of rock, tapping and feeling. "It's hollow back here. And up there is an air duct some place, I can feel fresh air, pollen…" Jim sneezed. "Pollen from corn. There is a corn field above us."
"I knew there had to be a reason that the government was subsidizing the corn market. That's why corn syrup is so much cheaper to use than sugar in things like soda and cookies. And people are developing corn allergies due to trace amounts being put into all sort of things, like…"
"Spare me the economy lecture for the moment. We have a way out of here." Jim searched the room. About two stories up along the vaulted ceiling there was a opening about twelve feet across, a duct work that was as impossibly above their heads as the moon.
"Man, this so sucks." Blair dropped to a sitting position on the rock floor.
Jim leaned against the wall. "We have been out for about two hours. They're going to discover us missing at any moment. We have two guns, with four bullets, and about twenty people are going to be breathing down our necks at any moment.
"We have more than that, Jim. We've got your heightened senses. They don't know about that. And you got me. That they do know about. They're going to think twice about coming after someone that can turn them into toast at twenty paces. And they're not going to risk shooting anything into this room, where the power plant is, right?"
"These people are fanatics. I don't know what they might or might not do. But you're right. We have things that we can do. We are going to beat this." He gave Blair a hand up, but he overestimated how much of a pull he needed to give. Blair ended up slammed against his chest, scrabbling wildly not to fall. His arms went around Jim. For a moment he just held on as he got his balance, the two teetered, clinging for support.
"You OK?" Jim looked down into Blair's eyes. He was eighteen. Jim had met hardened soldiers at that age, but this young man was not. He was an academic, a soft collage student, despite the quick thinking that had saved Jim's life. He had killed, and it was still eating him alive. He looked at the shoulder length hair, double pierced ear, and wide-open face that was all too innocent. This was not what he would have picked for a person to back him up. But the kid had brains and guts. He would never have gotten him this far if he did not.
"I'm good." Blair stared up into Jim's blue eyes. Man, he was fit, and buff. Scary, hard. Nothing soft or weak about him. In the black suit he could have been one of the men running this place, even if he looked like he was just in his late twenties. Jim was not the sort of person that he would have picked out of a crowd to talk to at a party. But this is the person that he would spend the rest of his life with. If they did not get out, that is.
(6)
The two were locked in that moment for a very long time, staring into one another's eyes. Blair was the first to break it. "Jim? " No response. Blair realized that the arms around his back were stiff, and that the look was now fixed. Damn. A zone. He remembered that from the book. Why Sentinels needed Guides. That was probably why Jim had been near catatonic.
"Jim? Hey, big guy, we have things to do, you know. Listen to my voice, come on back."
Jim blinked, and that quick he was back. "All right. Let's make some history. We can't just stand around like this."
*****************
"There is a fan some place in this shaft, sounds like about half way up. We are a long way down, but I think I see some maintenance steps. If they go the whole way to the top we have it made." Jim sneezed once more. "I don't think that there are any filters between the outside and us. Light is not getting to us, so either the vent is bent or there is a cover on it."
"Or maybe it's night time?" Blair tried looking up the shaft. Other than a slight flow of air, he could tell nothing.
"Pollen count is too high. My guess is late afternoon," Jim corrected him. "What if we went back and got the guys that I tied up and used them as hostages?"
"I think that these people would just consider them expendable, sort of like natural selection."
"Can we shoot some sort of line up there to climb up?" Blair looked around for something that might work.
"Don't know, Chief. Let's look around and see if there are any supply rooms or anything." A quick search revealed several doors, one of which was locked. Door number one was filled with dried up painting supplies and canvas tarps, drop cloths, and some back-up generators. More things were there, but nothing that looked worthwhile at the moment. The next room was filled with tools. Blair picked up a convenient sized pipe wrench. It was a weapon.
"You hate guns, but your willing to bash someone over the head with a wrench?" Jim asked in amazement.
"Whatever it takes. Self defense on a more personal level. " Blair swung the wrench a few times experimentally. Jim just shook his head in amazement. There was a bit of chain that looked like it could be useful, it had a hook on one end, and some thin cord. It would not hold a person, but it might come in handy anyway.
"Can you try and melt the handle or the lock of the door?"
"I don't think that I can get mad at the door, Jim, or feel that threatened. Each time I have done something it was under pressure. I'm still not sure how I knocked out the doctor and his gang. I just… wanted them down. And out. I thought about them killing you. I just could not let that happen. It wouldn't matter what happened to me."
"I understand that, Mother Teresa, but you have a power. You have to learn to use it. Now I agree that next to a power plant is not the best place to take that crap shot, but some time soon, ok?"
"Right. Ok. Got you."
(7)
The two of them stood back from the objects. Lined up on the floor were the can of oysters, a scrap of the linen napkin soaked with a small amount of the vodka, and one can of paint. The articles were spaced about four feet apart. Jim looked at Blair and nodded.
"Try the cloth first. The alcohol will evaporate if you don't. And it should be the easiest to combust."
Blair nodded back. He raised his hand, more as a focus than anything else. Remembering, trying to recapture the exact state of mind, when he… when he killed that techie. Anger, detached frustration, resolve that he would not do what they wanted. He had not even been angry with the techie that much. He was just a cog in the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Time was running out. He started to get frustrated with himself, with the situation. He closed his hand into a fist, punching up and down into the air in frustration. The oyster tin exploded. It was good that the two of them were as far back as they were. A small spray of smelly fish oil geysered out from the can as it spun in a circle.
"Not bad. Your aim needs a bit of work, but not bad." Jim looked critically at his black pants, brushing them down.
"JIM! I wasn't even thinking about the oysters. I was trying to set fire to the cloth! I have absolutely no control over this! It could have been you just as easily!"
"But it wasn't. And you have to keep trying. It might be the only thing that can get us out of here."
"Man, we are so doomed if that is the case. I don't think that I can do that to a person… again."
"Might not have to. Maybe you can burn a way out of here. But not unless you learn control. It's like learning to aim a gun. A gun is a tool. Your power is a tool. You can use it to save lives."
"They were right to want to get rid of me. I am a menace. What if I get pissed off at someone, at you, for instance." Blair shuddered.
"Can't hurt me. You can ask anyone that I served with. I'm a cold-hearted bastard. You couldn't heat me up with a flame thrower."
Incredulous, Blair stared at Jim. A smile played at both of their lips. "So, you're saying that I can't make you hot?"
"Down, Blair. Let's try to set fire to something like that cloth. Line it up in your sights. Get it in the cross-hairs. Then just squeeze the trigger. Don't pull. Squeeze. Steady your hand. Know your target. Wait for the right moment, and fire."
"That is such a bad pun. Let me try." Blair turned back to the targets. Jim stepped up behind him, placing his hand on his shoulder, adding his presence and support. "See the fire. Know that the fire is there, waiting," Jim murmured. And the cloth smoldered a moment, then burst into fire, a hot flash that burned itself out in a few moments.
"I did it! Wow! Look at that!" Blair turned into Jim, the hand on his shoulder becoming an arm around him, flowing into an embrace. "I did it. My mom would be so proud. She went to the Tibetan mountain to see the Dalai Lama levitate a few inches off of the ground. Wonder what she would think of me?"
"I'm sure she would be proud, Chief. Let's make sure we live long enough to tell her." Jim cuffed the back of his head, proud that he had adjusted so well. They just might get out of here.
(8)
Jim stiffened for a moment. Something was wrong. Blair looked up at him, concerned. "Are you sensing any thing?"
"I think I hear something." Jim held his fingers to Blair's mouth to silence him, tuning in to the noise that had attracted his attention. "I think that we've got company." Jim was grim. He grasped Blair's hand and pulled him down the corridor after him.
"Damn. They have us boxed in. There are three people coming from that way, and four from the other. They have guns and some sort of gas. They think they're going to try to flush us out or put us under. We have to take them out before they can get that close. It's up to you, Chief. If we run, sooner or later they're going to find us."
"I hate running. Let's make a stand." Brave words, but Blair was shaking and there was a quake in his voice. A noise behind them caused Blair to turn, and he saw a figure kneeling to take aim at them. He reacted without hesitation. The paint can just in front of him exploded, sending a wave of boiling hot oil paint up in a sheet. It caught the man mid-face, and with a scream of pain and shock, he went flying backwards. Jim and Blair turned and ran.
"I would hate to have his cleaning bill," Jim quipped. Blair was silent. That was never a good sign.
**********************************
This place was a maze. They found their way back to the conference room. It was just as they had left it. "We can't stay here. Lets just get what we can carry and get out of here. Water, food, alcohol." Jim began gathering supplies.
"There's just a few bottles of Perrier and some ginger ale and coke. I hate the new coke. It's got corn syrup in it. The old coke had real cane sugar. My mom and I, when we were in Canada, that was coke!" Blair was babbling.
"Listen, Sandburg, after we get out of here I will drive you over the border to get you some, but right now, we have to focus on survival. I haven't seen any other bathrooms, so use this one now. I don't want to leave any thing for them to trace, if you know what I mean, if I can avoid it. When under the gun, piss when you can, eat when you can, sleep when you can. You never know when you might get your next opportunity."
Blair sat on the cool toilet seat, trying to think calm and relaxing thoughts. Conducive to relieving your bowels thoughts. Pressure was never his friend at a time like this. He fell back into his meditation. It usually helped.
//Blair, I know that you can hear me. That was a nasty trick you pulled. I didn't think that you had it in you.// The invasive voice came from within his head.
//What did you expect?// He replied to the voice. //You were going to kill us. I would have loved to have seen the face of whoever found you.//
//You killed someone, Blair. Again. You're a danger to the project. To everyone around you. We could not risk letting you live. But things have changed. You are showing some control. That trick with the paint was very good. He is going to die, by the way, the burns were that bad, but it was a clever trick.//
//It was self-defense. He was going to shoot Jim and me. Tell every one to back off. I am not going to let any one harm us.//
//You were such a pacifist. You were so eaten up with guilt that you were about to allow yourself to be killed. When did you become such a killer? We might be able to bring you back into the project. You can be useful to us. And Ellison, he could be useful now, too. How did you wake him? He had been unresponsive for so long…weeks.//
//This is getting nowhere fast. Tell your people to back off,// Blair flushed the toilet, //and let us out of here.//
//I can not lie to you. We can not just let you go. We can help you, help Jim.//
//Somehow I have a hard time with that. I tend not to want to trust people that would kill a man whose only crime was that he could not wake up.// With a practiced mental shrug gained from years of meditation, Blair shifted gears so to speak, and broke the connection.
"Watch the door." Jim headed to the bathroom. Blair watched the corridor, holding the makeshift sack with the few supplies in it. This room was comfortable. He wished for a moment that they could just sit down, have a leisurely meal, relax, talk, and get to know each other. There were so many unanswered questions, so much that they still needed to know. He had to tell Jim about the mind-to-mind contact.
In the past, the only thing that the Telepath had done was monitor him, check to see what he was likely to do. Blair got the feeling that the man despised him for some reason. Why, he had no clue. People generally liked him. He had no problem making friends, and he was good in so many situations and places. He was adaptable. Blair's musing was interrupted when Jim came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jim had the pillowcase filled with some bottles of alcohol.
Blair peered into the sack, smiling wryly. "It would be a shame to waste hundred year old Scotch, but if we need to, this could be helpful." He looked up at Jim. "That telepath guy. He contacted me. I was meditating in the bathroom and he… well, I didn't believe him, but he wanted us to come in. Claimed that the group could help us. I told him no deal."
"Try not to make contact with them," Jim cautioned. "We need to move. They might be able to track us that way."
(9)
He just could not shut the kid up. After a bit, it was sort of comforting though, he could tune it into a background drone, like white noise. Somehow it made the noises around him sharper, more defined but less intrusive. It was a relief that he could ground himself on the kid, coming back to him after running sensory checks, like looking in your car mirrors. Left, right, middle, front, sweeping through the corridor, marveling that he could see so much better in the dim light that was coming from the recessed tube lighting.
Jim had wondered about the light, having seen nothing like it before. It seemed to be a glowing fluid that moved slowly in tubes along the edge of the wall. It must be some sort of chemical process, like glow sticks or something similar, he thought. It gave enough light for Blair to see by. While the main parts of the corridors had recessed lighting, the older, steeper places had this sort of illumination. The tunnels that they were in had no recent scent of human habitation, having instead a damper, older feeling. That meant that there was less of a chance of finding a way out to the top, but avoiding detection was the main priority at the moment.
"You know Jim, I used to play this game, a long time ago, called Dungeons and Dragons. We would meet at a party at someone's house, then we would have some life or death encounters were we would have to save each other. Then we would wonder around in some dungeon avoiding and killing monsters. If this were a game, this power would be a magic missile. The more I'd use it the better I would get with it. The same with your senses. The more you use them the better you will be."
"I hear you, Sandburg, but this is not a game. I used to play that, too, with my brother, `til my mom said that it was demonic and made us quit. Football was more acceptable. This is real life. Keep your wits about you."
Perhaps Jim was distracted. Perhaps he had just gotten too complacent in the fact that this tunnel was so unchanging. He did not sense or expect the sudden drop. Quite suddenly there was nothing under his foot. He pitched forward into the darkness.
******************************
One moment Jim had his head turned to talk to him, the next he was falling away. Blair made a grab for him, snagging the bag that Jim held, Jim dangling from the edge.
"JIMMMMM!" There was a distant clattering and far away a tiny splash. It took the time of five heartbeats for the sound to echo back to him. Blair was on his belly, holding with both hands onto the sack, hoping that Jim could maintain his hold.
"I'm okay. Just hold on, let me pull myself up." Jim scrambled up beside Blair.
"Oh my god." Blair sat shivering and shaking. He had not been the one to almost fall, but he was not dealing well with this at all.
"Its okay, Chief. We're alive. I lost my gun, but we still have yours."
"I think I broke some of the bottles."
They were both reeking of Scotch. "Oh, well. We're both going to Irish hell for wasting it."
"How can you joke at a time like this?"
"What better time? If you laugh in the face of death, you might distract it." Jim saluted Blair with the broken bottle, then they shared the sip that remained. It was by unspoken agreement that they stopped to eat and rest. At least nothing would come at them from the hole, hypothetically.
"How far down can you see?" Blair asked.
Jim peered over the edge. "It's a long way down. There's some water down there, I bet this is an artesian well that's gone dry. Look up. There's limestone above us. Acts like a natural filter for water."
"So, you're saying this is a dead end?"
"Looks like it, Chief. We might be able to make our way down, but I don't think that we'll find a way out down there."
End Part 9