Deadly Passion, an Epiphany Page 3

  Out of the coma…

  “Don’t try to move too much, Megan. We’ve brought you out of the induced coma you were in, but you’re far from being out of the woods.”

  “Induced coma? Where am I?”

  “You don’t remember. Probably just as well. You’re in the hospital, my dear, after suffering a horrible accident.”

  A vague memory surfaced. “The explosion, the nightclub—“

  “Right. Best not to worry your brain too much right now. We need to concentrate on healing, getting you up and about again.”

  “I was in the water. A giant squid got me and spit me out on the sand. Miles of sand and—“

  “Dreams. Strange, most people have told me they didn’t dream while they were in a coma.”

  Her eyes felt as if they were filled with sand from those dunes, gritty and watery. “Everything is blurry. I can barely see you. You’re a nurse?”

  “Yes. My name is Monica.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “About three months, I think. Let me look at your chart. Yes, just over three months.”

  “My parents? Cassie? Mark? Vera? Chad? What happened to them? Are they okay?”

  “All in good time, dear. You need to concentrate on getting better right now.”

  “I want to see Mark, my parents and—“

  “They were sent to a different hospital, Megan. I’m sure they’ll visit you as soon as they’re able.”

  “Able? Were they hurt badly?”

  “Yes, they were. Many people were hurt and killed.”

  “Was it a bomb? A terrorist attack? It all happened so fast.”

  “Ah, here’s Doctor Channing. She’s doing very well, Doctor. Quite alert for having just woken from a coma.”

  “Hello, Megan. I’m Doctor Channing. I’m sure you have many questions.”

  Megan saw the doctor through a blur. He seemed older, gray hair, but she couldn’t make out his features. He pulled a chair next to the bed and sat. “I remember the explosion. I must have been hurt bad to have been in a coma for so long.”

  “Yes, you were. You slipped into a natural coma not long after your arrival. When you woke from it, we decided to place you into an induced coma to help you heal.”

  “I can barely move.”

  “You suffered third degree burns to half your body. You also had many broken bones, ribs, puncture wounds from stilettos in your abdomen, and you lost an arm. Your eyesight will slowly return to normal. It’s a miracle you’re alive.”

  “My arm? But I feel both of them. I just can’t move the left.”

  “That’s common. I’m so sorry, Megan. The limb was too damaged for us to try and reattach it. But there are excellent prostheses available now. With therapy—“

  “Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.” Tears escaped, salty liquid that stung her eyes. In a softer voice she asked, “What about Mark? My parents? My friends? Can you tell me anything about them?”

  “I’m sorry. They’re not in this hospital. I’ll see if I can find out for you. Meanwhile, you need to rest. Soon enough you’ll be starting intensive therapy.”

  “How much longer will I be in the hospital?”

  “Your recovery will take a long time. It also depends on how strong you are, how hard you’re willing to work toward a full recovery.”

  “Full? That’s a laugh. I’ll never be whole again.”

  “That kind of attitude will not help. You can be as whole as you wish to be. There are many worse cases, people that have fought hard to overcome and conquer their disabilities.”

  “Please find out about my parents, Mark and my friends. If possible, phone numbers?”

  “I’ll do my best. Nurse, can I talk to you for a moment in private?”

  Through the blur, Megan saw the nurse inject something into her IV before following the doctor. She closed her eyes and thought about Mark, about his proposal. The glimpse she’d caught of him before she passed out became clear in her mind. His face bloody, hair and clothing on fire, his screams…

  Chapter Three

  The Mine…

  Mark managed to sit on his knees. Desperately, he swiped at his burning clothing, to no avail. He could smell the singing of his skin, his hair. Tears streamed from his eyes, soaking his cheeks. His head felt like a sledgehammer had smashed his skull. A steady throb dulled all thought, except one name. Megan…He called out to her, thought he heard a faint response.

  Cold water suddenly doused the fire. “There you go, mate,” a man said behind him. “You okay? Better get Medicine Man to look at that head.”

  “Medicine man?” Mark turned to look at the speaker. An older man dressed in overalls, holding a wooden bucket, looked back at him worriedly. “Who are you?”

  “Me name’s John. What’s yours?”

  “Mark.” His eyes slowly stopped smarting and he gazed around looking for Megan. The swanky club was gone. In its stead he saw a dark tunnel faintly lit by torches with men working in it. It almost looked like a mine. A mine? I’m hallucinating. “Where is everyone? Where am I?”

  “We’re all here, mate. You’re the latest arrival at the Director’s gold mine.”

  “Arrival? Gold mine? Director? God, I’m in a nightmare.”

  “Didn’t you sign up for this?”

  “Sign up? Stop fucking bullshitting me! Where is my fiancée? Her parents? Our friends?”

  “Stop the fuckin’ attitude, mate. You are where you are. That’s all there’s to it. Ain’t no women here.”

  Mark wanted out of the nightmare. He closed his eyes, waited, opened them again only to find himself in the same place. He stood, his clothing hanging in tattered burned strips from his body. A hammer pounded inside his brain and his body hurt like blazes. He looked at his hands while answering, saw the third degree burns and wondered how he was conscious and standing. “I was in a nightclub with my fiancée and there was an explosion. I was hurt, something hit my head, then the fire got me. That’s the last I remember.”

  “Yeah. Likely story. Wait ‘til the Director hears this one.” The man laughed.

  “What the fuck! Who’s this Director? Take me to see him!”

  “I’ll be fucked if I know, mate. He talks to us from some contraption on the wall in the common room. Don’t think anyone’s ever seen him. Come with me.”

  “Where to?”

  “Orientation, idiot, and Medicine Man. All new arrivals go through orientation.”

  Frustrated, angry, Mark followed John. The man ushered him through a rough, wooden door. “There ya go.” To Mark’s surprise, the room was something he would have thought to see in a science fiction movie. Sterile, white, clean, it was the complete opposite of what was on the other side of the door.

  “Remove your clothing and step into the cubicle,” a voice vibrated through the room.

  Mark managed to peel some of the tattered shreds off his body, groaning as skin came off at the same time, and walked to the far side of the room, where he saw a glass door. He opened it and stood inside what looked like an oversized shower but there were no taps and no showerhead. While he was wondering what to do next, suddenly jets came out of nowhere and cleansed him from head to toe. He expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. To his amazement, burned scraps of clothing and skin slid off his body easily. After the water turned off, a warm breeze dried him. A shelf slid noiselessly out of the wall. On it was a small pile of clothing. Astonished at his healed hands, his skin back to normal, he dressed. The pants and shirt fit perfectly as if made for him.

  The voice again.

  “Please enter through the next door for further instructions. You will see Medicine Man to attend to your head wound after your session with the Director is completed.”

  Mark opened the door on the other side and stepped into another sterile room. One lonely chair stood in its center. The walls were white. He saw nothing else. After he sat on the chair, the light dimmed and a screen appeared out of nowhere.

  A de
ep, male voice spoke. “Mark Samuel Engler, listen carefully.”

  “I’m listening. But I want answers.”

  “Your application was approved. You will now serve the Director until your term is completed.”

  “Application? I didn’t apply for anything. I’ve got a great job. What Director? Who the fuck are you? Serve who? Fuck you! Let me out of here!” He tried to stand up, but it was as if the chair had glue on it.

  “Remain seated and calm and listen to the presentation.”

  He had no choice except to sit on the chair and watch the screens. The images flashed by but he paid little attention. They were mainly of the mines, miners at work and some of the equipment and safety features.

  It was finally over. The last words the voice spoke were, “You are assigned to shaft fourteen.”

  Great. They expect me to work in a mineshaft?

  “Before leaving this facility, Medicine Man will attend to your head injury.”

  Mark stood, the chair finally releasing him. A panel slid open to reveal a corridor. He walked down it.

  “Please enter Medicine Man’s office.”

  Mark saw another panel open and faced a room with what looked like a lot of medical equipment, but unlike anything he’d ever seen in a hospital or doctor’s office. In its center stood a gurney. There was no one in the room. He waited impatiently, his head consistently doing a drum roll.

  “Please lie down,” a soft female voice told him. Mark glanced around, but he was still alone. He lay on the gurney. No sooner had he done so than a machine slid toward him, a robotic arm appearing from it. The arm placed what looked like some kind of translucent helmet on his head. A warmth emanated from it and he heard a faint buzzing. Some kind of x-ray contraption?

  “You had a skull fracture. It is now healed, as is the laceration on your head. Your hair will grow in time. You may leave now and join your crew.”

  The arm took the helmet off and retracted into the machine, which in turn slid silently into a wall.

  Mark gingerly felt his head. Bald, a completely smooth skull, but he felt no injuries and the hammer had disappeared. He felt normal. Well, normal? Is anything about this normal?

  A partition opened and he stood in a corridor. Not knowing what else to do and since there were no further instructions, he decided to follow the arrows on the wall. So Medicine Man is a machine. Interesting. Space age medicine and robotic machinery that provides instant healing. How come I’ve never heard about any of this stuff? And where the hell am I, anyway? It looks like some really old mine. How did I get here?

  He came to the end of the corridor and faced what looked like just a blank white wall. He was just about to turn around when the wall slid open to reveal a cruddy old wooden door. Mark grasped the rusty handle, pushed, and after walking through it, saw he was back in the mine, but not in the same location as before. A narrow rail track ran down the tunnel. Mark waited, not knowing what to do, until a rumble sounded and an ore car approached. A miner stood on it and motioned Mark to join him. There wasn’t much room on the metal ledge. He held on to the edge of the car tight as it proceeded down the tunnel. Here and there they passed miners at work wearing a dim light strapped to their heads. Mark shook his head, trying to make sense out of it all. He’d stepped from an ancient mine into some kind of futuristic miracle hospital, to leave it again and find himself back in the mine.

  The tunnel ended and they entered a large cavern. The car continued on across what looked like a rickety old bridge and Mark held his breath, expecting it to collapse any second. He breathed again when they reached the other side. The car stopped.

  “There’s shaft fourteen. Report to Bob,” the miner told him.

  Mark stepped off the cart and approached the square entrance supported by old wooden posts. It was dark in the tunnel. Here and there a dim light glowed from oil lamps and some torches that flickered and sent eerie shadows over the walls and ceiling. He headed for the nearest light and saw several men standing in a group, talking. “Is there someone here called Bob?” he asked loud enough so they could hear.

  “I’m Bob. I gather you’re the new arrival.”

  “So I was told. I’d like some answers. Where is this place? How did I get here?”

  “Same way we all came to the Gehenna Goldmine. Looking to get rich.”

  “Who is this Director everyone keeps mentioning?”

  Soft laughter from the men. “Do your work and hope you’ll never have to come face to face with him.”

  “Let me out of this fucking nightmare. Go away. None of this is real.”

  Bob laughed sarcastically.

  “Leave the man alone,” a female voice said loudly.

  Mark looked at the newcomer who’d joined the men. Long, flaming red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, keen blue eyes, and she looked to be in her mid twenties.

  “Come with me,” she told Mark. “I’ll show you the ropes.” So there are women in this place after all.

  “How long have you been here?” Mark asked.

  “My name’s Carol Johnson. I haven’t a clue how long I’ve been in this godforsaken place.”

  “Did you come here voluntarily?”

  “Supposedly. I don’t remember signing up. Why the hell would I leave my family?”

  “You have a family?”

  “Yup. Two boys, a girl, and the sweetest husband in the world.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “Cliché, but that’s the million dollar question around here. None of us know how we got here. Kidnapped. That’s my answer.”

  “I was in a nightclub. I’d just proposed to my soul mate when there was a huge explosion. I was hurt, on fire. I remember hearing her calling my name, caught a glimpse of her, before I blacked out. Terrorists? This place is run by the mafia or some mundane outfit? They kidnap people to work this mine? What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Picking up my little girl from ballet lessons. We had to stop at the grocery store to pick up some things for dinner.”

  “Where’s your little girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mark saw Carol’s eyes fill and quickly changed the subject. “Is there no escape? Has anyone tried?”

  “Oh yes. They’re either killed or punished horribly if caught.”

  “Has anyone succeeded at all?”

  “Not that I know of. You’ve got to be real careful. Workers tend to disappear without explanation around here. Don’t ask questions. You’re safe with me, so don’t worry. I’ll never tell. What year is it?”

  “Two thousand fourteen.”

  “Oh my God! You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve been here thirty-four years?”

  “Carol, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, or were you when you arrived here?”

  “I was thirty. Means I’m almost a senior now.”

  “You hardly look like a senior. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  “Compliments will get you everywhere. Haven’t seen a mirror in all the time I’ve been here.”

  This time tears did flow freely down her cheeks, causing stripes on her sooty face.

  “I’m sorry. My little girl was four. Means she’s thirty-eight now and I never saw her grow up, graduate, or go to college. She might be married with little ones of her own. Damn, I’m most probably a grandmother. The two boys were eight. Twins.” She swiped at the tears angrily. “We’re here. I’ll show you what to do. Best not to talk around here. Too many untrustworthy ears.”

  Mark saw several men hard at work. They didn’t take any notice of Carol or him. The next hour Carol spent teaching him, until a loud whistle sounded. “What’s that for?”

  “Shift change. New crews are taking over. We go to dinner and then to your dormitory.”

  “Dormitory?”

  “Yes. At dinner there’ll be an envelope beside your plate containing your schedule and the dorm they assigned you.”

  “Above ground?”

  “M
y dear, I haven’t been above ground since I got here.”

  “Don’t people get sick from lack of fresh air and sunlight?”

  “No. We’re fed enough vitamins and there’s artificial sunlight in some of the recreational rooms. You’re allowed free time until lights out.”

  Mark chuckled. “And when might that be?”

  “Nine. Wake up is at five, and we report for work at six.”

  “It sounds like jail. Not that I know anything about jails, but it sure as hell seems like it. What kind of recreational activities are here?” he asked while following her through tunnels, then finally arriving at a lift. He stepped in after her. It was jammed full of workers.

  “Sssh,” she said, a finger to her lips.

  The lift rose slowly. It sounded old, rickety, and it was noisy as it climbed up the chains. They came to double wooden doors. On each side stood a bucket of water. Each worker rinsed their hands before entering through the doors. Mark had no idea what to expect behind them. Carol walked in ahead of him and he gazed at a huge room with long tables in neat rows. Many workers were already seated. He noticed a mixture of women and men. So the first man he’d met was wrong that there were no women here. Maybe he’d meant there were no women working in his area.

  “This would be your table,” Carol said. “See the little red flag on that chair? I’m at the table behind you.”

  Mark sat and counted tables so that he’d remember his. He counted twenty people on each side of his table. He was shocked. The hall would seat a thousand if not more. A bowl stood on the table with a spoon next to it. He picked up the envelope next to his bowl and opened it. As Carol had told him, it had a work schedule on it and a dorm number. There was also a map included.

  Women and men carrying large trays filled with buns appeared, followed by carts with huge steaming pots. The servers ladled what looked like stew into the bowls. It didn’t smell unpleasant. When Mark’s bowl was filled, he realized he was hungry. There was no pepper and salt and no butter for the buns. He followed the others’ example and dipped his bun in the gravy of the stew. It was quite tasty and contained a lot of vegetables, no meat that he could see. No one talked. Mark ate the last of his stew and looked at the people across from him. They were men of various ages. Servers came around to pick up the empty bowls and placed two pieces of fruit before each person, an apple and a banana. Quite a few put the fruit in their pockets and left the table. Mark looked behind him and saw Carol get up. He quickly put the fruit in his pocket and hurried to join her. She was at least one friendly face and someone he could talk to.