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Old 03-10-2017, 07:27 AM   #91
Icelander
 
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Default When We Were Us

Dr. Anderson drags a chair next to the guard, Avery, and offers him coffee. Avery still has flexicuffs on his hands, so Dr. Anderson helps him drink a cup of coffee, wiping off his mouth with a napkin once he's finished. Then Dr. Anderson takes out his Homeland Security ID and shows it to the guard.

Dr. Anderson: "My name is Michael Anderson. As you can see, I am from the Department of Homeland Security. Do you mind telling me your name?"
Avery [looks down at his nametag]: "I'm Hayden Avery."
Anderson: "Hello, Hayden."
Avery: "I'm not going to tell you anything, no matter what you do to me."
Anderson: "Do to you? I was going to offer you some Advil for that knee of yours, but I assure you, that is the extent of my diabolical plans for you."
Avery: "I'm not taking your drugs, either. I know about your truth serums and brainwashing chemicals."
Anderson: "You do?"
Avery: "Yeah, the Shadow Government uses them against those who are still loyal."
Anderson: "Ah. Would that have anything to do with why exactly Warden Tyrrell has ordered all the guards to attack us?"
Avery: "No use playing stupid. We're on to you. You're black op assassins sent here to overthrow our loyal outpost, working with the lizard people."
Anderson: "I see. Is this what Warden Tyrrell has been telling you?"
Avery: "Telling us? He's showed us! He has proof! Documents, pictures, everything. Evidence, man. And I've seen the lizard people myself."
Anderson: "And what is it that they look like?"
Avery: "Like humans, only if you know how, you can tell them by the eyes. The eyes are a window to the soul and lizards got no soul. So their eyes are inhuman, reptilian, predatory."
Anderson: "When did you see these lizard people?"
Avery: "We've caught many of your agents."
Anderson: "And what do you do with them?"
Avery: "We've got special cells for them."
Anderson: "Like you did with Vicente Berrocal?"
Avery: "Yeah, he was one of yours, wasn't he?"
Anderson: "Actually, I would not know. I am just a contractor. All I came here for was to evaluate the mental state of Ms. Bell. I have no information about any operation being planned against the guard force here. Nor did I realise the state of things here or I probably should not have agreed to come. But if Mr. Berrocal is a federal agent, it occurs to me that it probably would be in your interest to tell me all you can so that he may be rescued safely once the Coast Guard arrives."
Avery: "Coast Guard? Your kind don't operate that openly. You prefer the shadows."
Anderson: "My energetic associate, Mr. Taylor, assures me that the Coast Guard will be responding to a series of distress calls they have received from here. I can only imagine that the quite loud shooting we heard earlier will hasten their response. Were the guards in the tower shooting at a Coast Guard vessel?"
Avery [confused]: "They wouldn't shoot at the Coast Guard. Half our boys are veterans or still in the Reserve. They must've been shooting at one of your boats. Maybe you put fake Coast Guard marks on them."
Anderson: "We do not have any boats out there. I assure you, any boats with Coast Guard markings on them will be real Coast Guard boats. And there will be a lot of them here, soon. And while I do not know about any Shadow Government, there will be a lot of important people here making decisions. People from Homeland Security. People it would be good to have well disposed toward you. Men who shoot at the Coast Guard and take hostages will be treated as criminals and terrorists. You need to make clear that you are not a part of them. Tell me everything you know and there will be less death and destruction when the authorities get here."
Avery [terrified]: "I can't! You don't know what happens to traitors! Or their families!"
Anderson: "Warden Tyrrell is not going to be in a position to punish anyone once the authorities arrive. And if you help us, I can have people protect your family."
Avery: "Even from her?"
Anderson: "From whom?"
Avery [agitated]: "Cherry Bell, the one they call the Queen. She... she can do things. If we don't do what Warden Tyrrell says, he'll let her punish our families. She can reach any of them, they say. There's no hiding anything from her."
Anderson: "Ms. Bell is no longer in the hands of Warden Tyrrell. She is in the custody of the Department of Homeland Security and she will certainly not be permitted to harm the families of anyone who is helping us."
Avery: "Are... are you working for her?"
Anderson: "No, Hayden, she is working for us. And she will not be harming anyone for Warden Tyrrell. Now, tell me everything."

While Dr. Anderson interviews Hayden Avery, Cherry Bell and Chase Taylor sit in companionable silence in the lobby for a minute or two. After a while, Taylor chuckles softly.

Taylor: "Do ya realise, Lynnie, that were the second time in eighteen years we've kissed an' both times it were kind of an accident. Good thing we decided to stop, or people would say we're in love."
[Bell raises her head and looks at Taylor, looking slightly miffed]
Bell: "Hmmm... the second time you push me away for some idiotic reason, too. New girlfriend, scruples, issues."
Taylor: "Yeah, people gonna say I ain't got no taste."

Taylor grins winningly and both chuckle, a great deal more at ease in each other's company than before.

Bell: "You do realise that you're not getting a third chance, right? A girl's gotta have her pride."
Taylor: "Long as I get ya out o' here an' you get your chance at livin', I'ma content."
Bell: "Martyr-complex like that, you'll make some pushy career-minded hag a wonderful little wife one of these days, Chasie. Speaking of which, whatever happened to Rhonda McBride, she of the first idiotic reason you couldn't kiss who you wanted?"
Taylor: "I, uh, asked her to marry me a few months after, you know."
[Cherry Bell giggles]
Taylor: "She said no."
[Bell's giggles dissolve into helpless laughter, which she tries to keep relatively silent]
Taylor: "It's not funny!"
Bell: "Yes, it is, ya goofy, hangdog little boy! Have you ever had a girlfriend you didn't ask to marry you 'bout the time you'd met each other's parents?"
Taylor: "There was Ava Del Rio, before Rhonda."
Bell: "Uh-uh! Ava of the trucker's scowl and doublewide ass does not count. You never did meet her parents, she just met your moms. And I know for a fact that you were planning to ask her to marry you before you broke up, which as I recall was because you told her you'd fallen madly in love with some girl at work, who you hadn't even kissed... or asked out!"
Taylor: "Yeah. You. An' I didn't tell Ava that, I jes' said we been growin' apart an' stuff."
Bell [eyebrow raised]: "And...?"
Taylor: "An' that I couldna feel honest callin' her my girlfrien' when I might be fallin' for somebody else..."
Bell: "Hah!"
Taylor: "I said 'might'."
Bell: "And in what insane boy logic world do you tell your long-distance girlfriend this and fail to mention it to the girl you like?"
Taylor [uncomfortable]: "There were reasons..."
Bell: "Good ones?"
Taylor: "So I figured at the time, but I guess I might could've been wrong."
Bell: "Probably not a new experience for you, Chasie, when it comes to women. Didya ever figure out the basics or have you spent the last two decades in and out of relationships with assertive girls who picked you up in a moment of weakness, despite your crippling inability to flirt, until you scare them away by planning a wedding? With the exception of an occasional one you break up with by oversharing?"
Taylor: "Hey, I ain't as dumb as all that. I done learnt not to make the same mistakes all the time. It's jes', there always seems to be a new way to mess up."
Bell [wistful]: "Is that what real adulthood is like, out in the world? Moving past old mistakes and learning about new mistakes you can make?"
Taylor: "More or less, I reckon. There's also taxes and mortgages and eventual', new movies done stopped making any darned sense."

Cherry Bell smiles and adjusts her position, lying on the floor with her upper body held in Taylor's arms, her head on his shoulder. The position is comfortable, familiar and intimate, but not sexual.

Bell: "I know what you said earlier about running, but when the Coast Guard come, we could get on one of their boats and escape. I could make them not notice us and we could hide below decks. They wouldn't even know we weren't dead somewhere on the island until days later. We could be anywhere by then."
Taylor: "Just we two?"
Bell: "Yeah. Is that such a bad idea? I could go to nursing school and you could be, I dunno, a Pee Wee football coach."
Taylor: "I imagine you'd keep me in the style I'ma gonna become accustomed to, as Pee Wee coaches ain't usually paid."
Bell: "Well, I'd need somebody to do the housework. Cooking and cleaning is included in 'just friends', right?"
Taylor: "That sounds mighty fine to me, actually. If'n I could see any way to get clear and stay clear, I'd be real tempted. I mean, we wouldna leave the doc or the other people here high an' dry, but once we's sure they's saved..."
[Taylor shakes his head, more serious]
Taylor: "But there's another reason I cain't jes' run away to... whereever. Things with Rhonda didna work out, but somebody didn't have the good sense to say 'no' when I asked her."
[lifts up his hands to forestall a surprised interruption]
Taylor: "I ain't married no more. Dolores left after I got sent to Fort Leavenworth. But we got two wonderful little girls. An' I cain't jes' run away when these people might use them to get back at me."
Bell: "You've got children?"
Taylor [smiling proudly]: "Yeah. Betty Rose and Savannah Belle. They's twins, eight by now, an' the most perfect lil' angels you kin imagine."
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Old 03-11-2017, 09:08 PM   #92
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Default ...And Miles to Go Before I Sleep

Cherry Bell is visibly startled when she hears that Taylor named one of his daughters 'Savannah Belle'. For a few moments, she doesn't seem to know how to react, but eventually smiles tremulously and places a hand over Taylor's hand.

Bell: "Do you ever see them, your girls?"
Taylor: "Uh, not for five years, six months, thirty days and 'bout twelve hours. But I write 'em as often as I can and their momma's been real good 'bout letting them write back."
Bell: "That's awful. I... I'm so sorry."
Taylor: "Hey, might could it's all for the best, anyhow. This way, at least, they's growing up with a good momma an' not with somebody... somebody done come home with blood all over his hands."

Not knowing what to say, Cherry Bell pats Taylor awkwardly and makes comforting sounds. Taylor hugs her closer to him for a while.

---

Meanwhile, Dr. Anderson expertly steers the conversation with Hayden Avery, the captured guard, so that he'll reveal information about Warden Tyrrell and the other guards without feeling like a traitor. Avery reveals that when Warden Tyrrell learned that agents from Homeland Security's Office of the Inspector General were coming to Jewell Island, he flew into a rage and started to speculate whether they had any specific knowledge about wrongdoing among the guards. When 'Special Agent' Berrocal turned up without any warning the day before the agents were expected, the Warden was already on edge and when Berrocal wanted to speak with Cherry Bell, Warden Tyrrell started accusing Berrocal of being an agent of the Shadow Government.

After that, Warden Tyrrell held back those guards who were supposed to go back to the mainland for leave by the rotation, so there are actually twenty four guards there now, not just twenty. Avery admits that all the guards knew about Berrocal being beaten and locked up, but maintains that Warden Tyrrell gave the orders and that he explained Berrocal wasn't a Homeland Security agent, he was an evil lizard person in disguise. Dr. Anderson asks him to clarify that and Avery tells him that Warden Tyrrell took guards to the cell in J Wing where Berrocal was kept and showed them his unatural, reptilian eyes.

Dr. Anderson gets Avery to tell him how Warden Tyrrell gradually uncovered evidence of the conspiracy behind the Shadow Government and the lizard people for the last few years. He first talked about it maybe in 2011-2012. Never with strangers, just with those he trusted. And he found a lot of evidence, especially once he started getting access to some old files from the research facility that used to be below Manhanock Asylum. There were also patients who had important pieces of the puzzle. Former scientists, test subjects and even black ops assassins for the Shadow Government, they all ended up in Manhanock Asylum sometimes.

There were those among the guards who didn't believe in any of it, even after Warden Tyrrell showed them documents and evidence. Some of them quit the guard force. Others came around. If Warden Tyrrell couldn't convince them, Cherry Bell could. She'd been invovled in real Shadow Government experiments and... well, somehow, when it came from her, it was hard to ignore claims of a government inside the government, doing what it wanted without any of the elected officials being the wiser. Some men were also convinced by Ms. Bell's doctor, Dr. Bruce Cotton, as he had been very involved in investigating the archives and could argue the Warden's case real convincingly.

Those among the patients who were unmanagable or still loyal to their lizard masters were put in special cells or sent for treatment to Dr. Cotton. Later, they found that there were infiltrators among the staff, too. Warden Tyrrell started preparing for the War, when the loyal Americans would rise up and throw off the lizard yoke. He said that as democracy had delivered the American Dream into the hands of inhuman monsters, there would be a vanguard of loyal men not subject to the whims of popularity. Knights, defending humanity, like King Arthur's Knight of the Round Table. And Tyrrell would be king of Jewell Island, a new Camelot.

Avery said that the Warden believed most Americans, even ordinary cops and soldiers, wouldn't stand for serving the lizards and their Shadow Government, not once they knew. So once the time came, they just needed to defend their island until the people rose against the evil puppeteers.

Dr. Anderson: "Uh-huh. And you believe all that?"
Avery: "Well, I'm not crazy about the 'King' stuff, to be honest. And I think Tyrrell is too optimistic when he thinks the people will all rise against the lizards. It will take some pretty convincing evidence. But I've seen the soulless eyes of the predators among us, man. After that, how can I not believe? How can I ever go back to being a peaceful little drone? How can I ever sleep again?"

---

After a long silence in the lobby, Taylor clears his throat to ask Bell a question.

Taylor: "Lynnie, that stuff you said you had to get from the Deputy Warden's office, how important is it?"
Bell: "Oh, it's real important. Trust me, you'll want us to get it."
Taylor: "Is anybody fixin' to die if'n we don't get it?"
Bell: "Well..."
Taylor: "That do sound like 'no'."
Bell: "Chase, it's my phone, okay!? It's got all kinds of personal stuff on it and I don't want cops or whoever you're working for to get it."
Taylor: "Uh, darlin', personal stuff that could getya killed or put back in a place like this if'n the wrong people saw it or jes' personal stuff that's real embarrassing an' might could let our handlers find Vargas in Mexico?"
Bell [colouring]: "Uh, that second, I guess."
Taylor: "Embarrassin' ain't really gonna matter now, Lynnie. An' even if we got it, we ain't gonna smuggle nothin' off this here island without our handlers gettin' it. Besides, we's gonna cooperate with them anyhow, talk with Vargas an' convince him coming to terms is the only way. They'd need the phone an' I figure givin' it to them is a good way for you to show you's trustworthy."
Bell: "We could hide the phone. Get it later."
Taylor: "Sherilyn Bell, I know darn well you's always been smarter than me. But there's stuff now I been trained in and you ain't, yet. When it comes to something like that, I's gonna ask you to listen to me an' I's tellin' ya it ain't worth getting that phone, not if'n we ain't got no other reason to go up yonder. Somebody could be hurt, kilt even, if'n we do. An' embarrassment jes' ain't a good enough reason to aim to kill somebody or to get kilt, for that matter."
Bell: "You sure it's not because who the messages on the phone are from?"
Taylor: "No! Awright, I done thunk Vargas was a grade-A toolshed even before he was caught dealing drugs and killed a friend of mine, but jes' 'cause I think you too good for him don't mean I's gonna interfere. If'n you think you kin be happy with him, if'n he a different man now, I'm a-gonna help you with that. An' the first step's gotta be gettin' Onyx Rain to trust us some."
Bell: "I actually believe you mean that."
Taylor: "'Course I do, silly. But the Lord help him if he ain't gonna treat you right, girl."

Cherry Bell gives a startled giggle and snuggles closer on Taylor's shoulder, but her smile slowly drains away as she looks away from him into the dark, leaving her thoughtful and a bit apprehensive. After another long silence, Taylor puts one hand on her shoulder, turning her face toward him. He looks deep inside her eyes.

Taylor: "Lynnie... you've had a rough time for longer than I wanna think about an' I ain't gonna ask you to talk about it if'n you ain't ready to. There's jes' one thing I gotta know, 'fore we go on. Do I want Warden Tyrrell dead?"
[Bell looks into his eyes, knowing exactly what he's asking about, and then looks down]
Bell: "Yes."
[Taylor tenderly brushes Bell's hair away from her eyes and raises her face up to look her in the eyes again]
Taylor: "I never wanna think you'd lie to me, not on somethin' like this."
Bell [heated]: "Well, I do want him dead. Not because of that, no, but he made me afraid and humiliated and helpless. He's been treating me like a prized possession for years, he's made me do things I didn't want to and I've had to tolerate him. Well, I won't any more! He had no right to keep me here and no right to call me his Queen. I hate him and I want him dead!"
Taylor: "Okay."
Bell: "Okay?"
Taylor: "I understan' why you want him dead. An' I cain't say that I find it in me to condemn you. If'n he doesn't survive the night, I ain't gonna be able to feel too bad about it."
Bell: "He can't survive the night! Not him and not Dr. Cotton! You said that these Onyx Rain people would kill me or lock me up if they thought I could do mind control. Well, Dr. Cotton and Tyrrell can tell them everything about it. They know enough to get me locked up forever or killed!"
Taylor: "I see. An' who might Dr. Cotton be?"
[Bell seems genuinely terrified and has started weeping]
Bell: "He's the one you want dead! He's the one who did things to me, tied me up, drugged me, experimented on me! He made me use my powers on the guards and when I tried to resist, I couldn't! Nothing I did could affect him... I was so helpless! He'd just do whatever he wanted, smiling, like I was a stupid little child and he knew better! And I'd always obey him! I hate him, but I'm so scared of him... Chasie, I'm afraid he'll tell me to get back in my cell, stop this stupid tantrum and I'll just go back!"

Taylor hugs her and pats her back, looking steadily toward the main complex in the darkness. In his unnatural gleaming silver eyes there is not a shred of warmth or humanity, just a cold emptiness.

Taylor: "Sssh, Lynnie. You ain't gotta worry 'bout him no more. He ain't never gonna hurt you again."
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Old 03-12-2017, 01:24 PM   #93
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Default Rejoice with Me, for I Have Found My Sheep which Was Lost!

Dr. Anderson learns from Hayden Avery the guard that Terry Amiti was among the high-risk patients by the time Avery came to work at Manhanock Security, which was in 2007. At the time, Terry was difficult to manage, but with care and patience, could be kept from destructive rages. As the years went by, that changed. For the past few years, Terry had been a holy terror, entirely beyond the ability of the guards to handle.

Warden Tyrrell told everyone that Chief Administrator Findlay had applied for some additional guards and orderlies trained in managing dangerous patients, but that additional funding had been refused. It was then that Terry Amiti was approved for experimental treatment with Dr. Cotton, which would have been back in 2012-2013. When that didn't work and a number of people had been seriously injured, Warden Tyrrell ended up removing Terry from the patient population by locking him in a disused part of the tunnels. He had guards leave him food and drink, but otherwise, Terry was left to his own devices.

That was maybe a year ago. Since then, the Warden has apparently exiled more people to the tunnels, first just patients, but later orderlies and guards who objected too strongly. All of them agents of the Shadow Government and the lizard people, obviously. Avery is clearly uncomfortable talking about it and mentions that he and a lot of other guards objected at the time. That was when Warden Tyrrell threathened their families if they became 'traitors' to the cause. He showed them pictures of their loved ones and explained that Cherry Bell's men on the mainland could snatch them anywhere. Warden Tyrrell explained that she'd been a part of a Shadow Government supersoldier project and still had allies who were highly trained black operatives with capabilities beyond any ordinary man.

While Dr. Anderson has many more questions about the strange story, he realises that given the current situation, he should probably be asking about something with more immediate utility in keeping him alive.

With that in mind, Dr. Anderson gets Avery to confirm that the heavy crew-served weapons are still located in the observation towers and still have something called a thermal imagining weapon sight. There are also two 'fifty-cal' rifles and a couple of other sniper rifles among the guard force, but Avery doesn't know where they are now, other than the towers or the roof of the highest buildings would make sense. Asked about the location of a jammer, Avery doesn't know what Dr. Anderson is talking about, as there is no radio-jammer among the guard's equipment, but supplies that anything secret and important to the defence of Jewell Island is likely kept where Warden Tyrrell can keep an eye on it.

Dr. Anderson: "And are all the guard force solidly behind Warden Tyrrell? Would they all shoot at federal agents for him?"
Avery: "Not everybody likes him all that much, but he's a strong leader. I think everyone will fight if the Shadow Government attacks us. We've got a lot of supplies and are well set up for a siege. We've, uh, also armed some of the orderlies. Some of them have seen the lizard people too and they want to defend humanity."
Dr. Anderson: "Uh-huh. Aside from disguised secret agents that Warden Tyrrell has shown you, have you ever seen one of these lizard people? In their natural form, so to speak?"
Avery: "They're down there in the tunnels. Some of us have seen them skulking when we've had to go down there. I haven't seen a fully scaled one, but I've seen their glowing, unnatural eyes watching me from the darkness. Please, sir, when the Shadow Government gets here, you'll tell them I helped? You won't let them give me to the monsters?!"

Dr. Anderson reassures Avery on that point, but has more or less come to the end of his 'tactical' vocabulary. He decides that he needs someone with actual training in killing people and breaking things to help him get more operationally useful data from Avery.

Dr. Anderson: "Taylor, would you mind coming in here for a moment?"
Taylor: "Sure, doc. We oughta be goin' anyhow."

Taylor and Bell come walking into the guards' dining hall from the lobby. Taylor still has one arm protectively around Bell, who is nestled against him in a manner that Dr. Anderson diagnoses as genuine need for support and not part of her flirtateous persona. Even though the dining hall has normal lighting, Taylor's eyes are still in that uncanny configuration that Dr. Anderson supposes is his night-operation mode, no visible whites, just huge inhuman orbs reflecting light like silver luminious strips. When Avery sees Taylor he screams in terror and faints dead away.

Taylor: "Whoa, doc! Were it somethin' I said?"
Dr. Anderson: "I rather suspect it was your eyes."
Taylor: "My eyes? Oh, ya mean they look different when I wanna see in the dark?"
Anderson: "You really do not know?"
Taylor: "Sorry, doc. Ain't many people look you in the eye in the Castle an' anyhow, a prison is pretty well lit most o' the time."
[Taylor reluctantly lets go of Bell and moves over to the unconscious Avery]
Taylor: "Ya think I might could explain I don't wanna hurt him none?"
Anderson: "I think waking up to the sight of you would probably simply unhinge him all the more."
[Taylor grimaces]
Taylor: "I ain't any kind of monster, doc. An' I kin change m' eyes back to normal."
Anderson: "I did not say you were a monster, Taylor. Mr. Avery, however, appears to be strongly delusional and your... fetching, but unusual eye colour played into his delusions. I doubt we could convince him that you were not a manifestation of his darkest fears without weeks of psychotherapy."
Taylor: "Awww, shoot, doc. Didya at least get information on where to find the jammer?"
Anderson: "Regrettably, no."
Taylor: "Fudge sticks up a fudge tree! Uh, pardon my French, Sherilyn, doc."

Dr. Anderson assures Taylor gravely that his 'French', while sometimes indecipherable, has not offended him yet.

Taylor suggests that as the three guards are all unconscious, it might be a good time to find them a place to rest and recover, before leaving the barracks. They then carry the three guards downstairs and place them on stretchers with restraints. Taylor spends some time listening at the blast door to the tunnels, but does not hear anything suggesting that there are guards close to it. They troops back upstairs and Taylor carries out an equipment check on Dr. Anderson. As he does, he takes the opportunity to speak with Dr. Anderson. Sherilyn Bell is close by, playing with her new rifle, switching the tactical light on and off, checking out the infrared light feature in her NV optics.

Taylor: "Doc, I reckon you's here to figure if Sherilyn is gonna help us an' if she safe to let out. You's suppose to give a report on her to our handlers. Ain't that so?"
Anderson: "Broadly speaking, that is correct."
Taylor: "I'ma gonna ask you not to do that. At least, not to tell them folk everything. I knowed you done seen some things might could worry our handlers some. I figure they'd wanna cage Sherilyn or kill her if'n they hear. I understan' we ain't close an' you might could still be sore at Sherilyn over that shot back when, but I'ma still asking you. Please. She don't deserve more hurt, doc."
Anderson: "As I told Ms. Bell, earlier, I certainly do not approve of the things that were done to her. I have hardly had any time to evaluate Ms. Bell, however, and I simply do not know whether I would recommend any treatment that could be performed on an out-patient basis. You will excuse me, Ms. Bell, but you have been through an ordeal that anyone would require a long time in a peaceful setting to recover from."
Taylor [dangerous edge to voice]: "Is you sayin' you'd let them throw her in a place like this again? I done knowed you'd been doin' work with these people, experimentin' on people, but I figured you had some finer feelings."
Anderson: "Easy, Taylor. I was a young man then and I was hardly responsible for the decisions at the top."
Taylor: "So ya were jes' a Baby Mengele, is that it?"
[Cherry Bell, lingering nearby, snickers and points a finger at Dr. Anderson]
Bell: "Chasie just called you a Nazi, Mr. M!"
Anderson: "As far as I know, every patient of mine consented to the experimental treatments. Though I will admit, to my shame, that I was not always as scrupulous as I should have been in confirming what my superiors told me. But I assure you both, I am no longer the same man. I have not worked on any military project since Jade Serenity. My medical work now is primarily with children."
Taylor [low growl]: "Jes' stop, doc. We's gonna hafta work together for a spell longer an' I don't wanna hafta do anythin' to ya."
Anderson: "What are you talking about?"
Taylor: "If'n ya say a word about experiments on children, I ain't gonna be responsible for what happens."
Anderson [hurt]: "I specialise in sleep therapy for children, often children who cannot sleep because of chronic pain or terminal illness. And I assure you, Taylor, that nothing could make me harm a hair on their heads. Just as I am not about to do anything to make it more likely that Ms. Bell here is deprived of her life or liberty if I am in a position to help her."

There is an awkward silence, which a shamefaced Taylor finally breaks.

Taylor: "Well, don't I jes' feel lower than a squashed snake, doc. I'm truly sorry. I oughta know better'n be judging folk all up on m' high horse, when I's a wretched sinner me own self. Ain't no sin the Lord cain't forgive and ain't no thing more joyful than atonement o' the heart an' soul, doc. You's a changed man an' the Lord love ya for it. Willya accept my humbles' apology?"
Anderson: "How can I not, when it is so handsomely offered?"

Dr. Anderson and Taylor shake hands, with Taylor pulling Anderson in for a hearty backslapping hug.
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Old 03-13-2017, 03:41 AM   #94
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Default Having Put on the Breastplate of Righteousness

Dr. Anderson and Sherilyn Bell have both been thoroughly checked to ensure that they are wearing their tactical gear properly and appear as members of the guard SRT unit from a distance. The new tactical outfit includes a Point Blank ATF SWAT vest, PPSS sharp protective wear for the arms and legs, Danner Acadia boots and a PASGT helmet.

As they were already wearing a guard uniform for a disguise, Anderson, Bell and Taylor just put the tactical gear on over the Manhanock Security shirt and pants, as the three SRT guards had done. The boots taken from the three guards are all too large for Bell, so she continues to wear black tennis shoes she found in the barracks. She also hands Taylor back his red 'Bama cap, with a smirk, and he carefully stows it in a pocket, grinning at Bell.

All three of them are carrying a patrol sling with an M16A2 rifle with mounted Insight Technology's Visible Light Illuminator (VLI), Insight AN/PEQ-2 Target Pointer/Illuminator/Aiming Light, ATN Night Arrow 4-2 Night Vision Weapon Sight and Trijicon ACOG Reflex Sight in an offset mount, six extra 30-rd magazines of 5.56x45m NATO ammunition, one M9 pistol with two extra 15-rd magazines of 9x19mm NATO ammunition and one each of M84 stun grenade and M67 fragmentation grenade.

They still have the Motorola ASTRO Digital Saber radios, Mace body alarms and OC spray, Maglite flashlights, 911 Rescue Tools & Knives, and Monadknock 21" MP Rigid Batons taken from the guards earlier and have added a Leatherman multi-tool, a stack of NIK Public Safety Disposable Restraint System (flexicuffs) and a Chinook SWAT IFAK personal first aid kit augmented with painkillers, including stuff not available over the counter like Vicodin and a morphine syringe, for each person. They also take knick-knacks, bottled water, moist wipes and other small comforts.

Taylor has added a Cold Steel Bushman fixed-blade knife to his belt, Bell found a Spyderco Paramilitary 2 folding knife for her pocket and Dr. Anderson surreptiously conceals the largest scalpel he can find, wrapped in tape to avoid cutting himself, up his left sleeve. He seems quite adept at palming objects and neither of the other two notice him doing so.

After Taylor is happy with their gear, he walks Dr. Anderson through the operation of an M16A2 rifle and the use of the night-vision optics. While Taylor makes sure not to address his basic explanations to Cherry Bell, as she went through basic training once, the quick course is clearly visible to her, in case she needs a refresher. As they talk, the three move down to the cellars and sit down near the blast door, where Taylor can listen for threats in the tunnels beyond, and discuss their next steps.

Dr. Anderson: "I expect your surveillance in the lobby has yielded more useful information than my interview, Taylor?"
Taylor: "Naw. I cain't figure these guards at all. It's been, what, somethin' like half an hour gone since I spoke with Warden Tyrrell on the intercom? An' all they do is send three guards, who ain't come back an' now, nothin'! Jes' a whole lotta flit and flittering over yonder an' somebody tearin' up Jake inside G Wing. That there last might could be 'cause of our traps, they musta finally triggered one and figured it were us throwing stuff at them."
Anderson: "I do not know when your conversation with the Warden might have taken place, but the flashbang explosion in the tunnels was 28 minutes ago and it has been fifteen minutes since the heavy machine gun fire outside."
Taylor: "Exactly, doc! What in the Lord's name kin they be ditherin' about? 'bout all I kin figure is that the Warden been real busy with somethin' else an' nobody else dares make a decision o' any kind, but I cain't nohow guess what might could be more important than checkin' out a position they know we was at. An' I thought me and Warden Tyrrell, we'd established something like to rapport, if'n ya know what I mean. He were madder than a hornet over the intercom, I figured he'd be fixin' to lay a hurting on me an' not gonna stop for nothing."
Anderson: "Perhaps your unique brand of charm has failed you, in this instance."
Taylor [considering]: "Naw, that dog won't hunt. Warden were fit to be tied. Ain't nobody that good an actor without he done won an Academy Award yet. I figure Warden Tyrrell musta been one of the guards down the tunnels. Onliest thing he wanted more than tan my hide is Sherilyn an' he musta thought he'd find her down there."
Bell: "Hah! He didn't, big dumb-dumb that he is. I'm too clever for him."
Taylor: "Yeah, thank the Lord for that. On the other hand, I figure he done got O'Toole, Burr, Townsend and Berrocal. I weren't sure if'n he kilt them, but since them guards ain't come in here, I reckon they's taking back prisoners. Might be they jes' didn't fancy comin' through a narrow doorway when they knowed I gots grenades and rifles now, but I figure Warden Tyrrell woulda forced them if there weren't somethin' he thought were more important. Like prisoners he think know where you is."
Anderson: "Do you imagine that he will mistreat them?"
Taylor: "I's afraid so. I guess we hafta hope one o' them will jes' gone told all he knowed."
Anderson: "Would that not bring the guards here?"
Taylor [grinning]: "It oughta, doc. That an' what Randall an' them others is a-gonna tell him. I figure that Warden is back by now, but without any radios, ain't no way he kin organise that ruckus into anything useful, I guess. Prob'ly he done raised Cain over yonder, but them guards ain't eager to see if'n I can shoot these here rifles.
[Taylor pats his M16A2]
Taylor: "Uh, they's sure enough scared o' y'all too, I mean to say. We's all gots them rifles now an' that mean them guards been thinkin' they hafta come at these here barracks the long way 'round."

Taylor stands up nimbly and makes a gesture they recognise by now as instructions to wait for him. He runs upstairs to the lobby, to take a last look and listen around. While he's gone, Dr. Anderson adjusts his unfamiliar gear for a more comfortable seat and turns to Cherry Bell.

Dr. Anderson: "That guard I spoke with, Hayden Avery, he talked a lot about you."
Cherry Bell [brightly]: "Oh yeah? What did he say?"
Anderson: "He said that you had threathened families of guards who would not obey Warden Tyrrell. That you had men on the mainland ready to kidnap or kill the loved ones of anyone who talked to the authorities."
Bell: "It wasn't like that. I said stuff, because Tyrrell and them made me, but I never had any men on the mainland and I didn't kidnap anyone. I was just a prisoner myself."
Anderson: "But you could leave your cell at will?"
Bell: "As if that's any kind of freedom! Where was I supposed to go? There's no way off the island except by boat and if I'd tried to get on a ferry, Warden Tyrrell would have figured out that I was missing before it even reached Portland."
Anderson: "Please be calm, Ms. Bell. I am not your enemy. I am simply trying to understand."
Bell: "Well, you don't understand! I didn't have any choice. I had to trick the guards, make them cooperate, make them see whatever things they were supposed to see, freaky lizard people or whatever. I was forced to, okay!"

Taylor comes back downstairs, walking to Cherry Bell and directing a warning glance at Dr. Anderson.

Anderson [calmly]: "Who made you do these things, Ms. Bell?"
Bell [tiny voice]: "Dr. Bruce Cotton."
Anderson: "Who is he, Ms. Bell?"
Taylor: "Dr. Cotton, he be a low-down copperhead snake of a physician, supposed to be Sherilyn's primary. He ain't important no more." [places arm over Bell] "An' would Dr. Cotton have an office close to the Deputy Warden's, Lynnie?"

Sherilyn Bell starts crying again, but nods at Taylor's question. Taylor hugs her tight and speaks in comforting tone of voice, but his face is locked in a cold mask of fury as he looks over her shoulder, upwards, in the direction he imagines that Cotton's office might be.

Taylor: "Don't you fret none, Lynnie, it's okay. You can jes' go ahead and forget that name, ya hear? You never have to think about it no more."

Dr. Anderson looks askance at Taylor, but wisely decides not to say anything.

Taylor: "Okay, folks, we's gonna go back into them tunnels. If'n them guards got the sense God gave a goose, they'll hafta leave somebody down there, but as they's comin' here in strength outside, I figure it ain't gonna be more than four men. Sherilyn, you got all three guards in the lobby, in less than three breaths, right?"
Bell [wipes her face]: "Yeah."
Taylor: "An' they didna see or hear anythin' but what you wanted?"
Bell: "Nothing else. I can make them see anything and their own senses don't work unless I let them."
Taylor: "Then I reckon we kin bamfoodle whoever they leaves down there. We'll be movin' in darkness, no lights, not even IR. I'll smell or hear them, jog your arm, Lynnie, an' you find them with yer rifle scope and use yer hoodoo."
Dr. Anderson: "What about me?"
Taylor: "Breathe low, watch where you's steppin' an' don't get shot, doc."

Taylor demonstrates a few simple signals that can be transmitted through touch, teaching them to stop, drop down, look for cover, fall back and the signals to Cherry Bell for using her NV optics to search for a threat where Taylor points. They plan to walk single file, Taylor on point, Bell behind with her hand on his arm and Dr. Anderson in the rear, with his hand on Bell's other arm. Taylor says he doesn't hear anyone in the tunnels on the other side of the door, but they should be careful anyhow, ready to run into the blocking element right there. After this briefing, they open the blast door as silently as they can.
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Old 03-13-2017, 11:08 AM   #95
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The tiny service tunnel beyond the blast door is pitch black and silent as a tomb. Taylor holds his breath and lets a long time pass before he moves again, enough to be certain that no one is waiting in ambush within a hundred feet, unless that person doesn‘t breathe. Close enough to touch, Taylor, Bell and Dr. Anderson traverse the service tunnel to the hatch that opens to a larger tunnel. It‘s still ajar, the way Anderson and Bell left it, and there is no sign that anyone has been in the tunnel since.

Bell leans in to whisper in Taylor‘s ear.

Bell: “The firing was just up that tunnel here and then to the left. That’s where I bailed on the others.”

Taylor nods, but reminds her to keep silent by placing a finger on her lips. They start to move up the tunnel that leads to the main corridor where the guards were earlier. Taylor stops at the intersection before they enter the main tunnel, sniffs the air and listens for several breaths. Peeking around the corner, he discovers that no guards are within his line of vision, which stretches more than a hundred feet ahead, all the way up to a ruined door which hangs off its hinges. The door has been shot several dozen times, recently enough for the smell of ball propellant to linger in the air around it.

Taylor motions for Anderson and Bell to wait for him, using the touch gestures he briefed them on earlier. Then he stalks out in the main corridor, ears straining and breathing deep to form some kind of picture of the tunnels ahead. Taylor moves fairly quickly, seemingly satisfied that there is no threat close by, but even at a walking pace, his movement is quiet enough so that he might walk right up to a guard without alerting anyone. The tunnels there are dusty and dirty, apparently not having been used for a long time, which makes it easy for Taylor to see sign where someone has walked. Using a combination of vision and smell, Taylor starts to reconstruct events in the tunnels.

Taylor spots the bullet holes around the two doors on the left side of the main corridor. He can also see a lot of loose brass around up ahead, which localises the position of the guards during the firefight. There is an unpleasant smell of burnt flesh just a few feet short of the T-intersection where the guards fired most of their rounds. Blood spatter at one door informs Taylor where Col. Burr took a bullet and he inspects that for a while, concluding that there is not enough blood for a fatal wound and that the evidence inside confirms bandaging. Taylor can tell that the wheelchair with Berrocal in it was removed and Col. Burr seems to have been carried away, without the wound opening up.

After confirming that the guards left the T-intersection by a leg of the main corridor which Taylor isn’t sure where leads and that they had the wheelchair with them, as well as carrying at least two men, Taylor moves back to fetch Anderson and Bell. In a very low voice, he informs them of what he has found.

Taylor: “Like as not, they’s prisoners in the main compound now. They’s likely to be kept where Agent Banks is, God grant he be alive. Doc, you still reckon there ain’t no better place to store prisoners than in that there central building?”
Dr. Anderson: “They could put them in any of the wings, but if Warden Tyrrell has been keeping some of the doctors and nurses in ignorance, I doubt he would want them seeing federal agents made prisoners. And with so few patients and staff here, there would be plenty of spare interview rooms in both the front and rear parts of the central building.”
Taylor: “Fair enough, doc. I counts no fewer than five guards who was here an’ no more than eight. If’n they thought they weren’t enough to storm them barracks, either they’s real scared of me or they’s terrified of’n these here tunnels. Look like they did some searchin’, always movin’ in pairs, so I reckon they’s scared of somethin’ down here awright. Figure they was lookin’ for you, Lynnie, but mebbe there were somethin’ else they lookin’ for too.”

Taylor points Anderson and Bell at tracks in the dusty corridor, leading to a side tunnel on the right wall. They move slowly over to that side tunnel, with Taylor in the lead. At the entrance, Taylor spots a pool of blood slowly congealing on the floor. He grimaces, as there is easily enough blood to assume a mortal wound. Taylor can’t tell if it’s blood from any of the people who came with them to the island or not, but he guesses that it is not the blood from a healthy person, as there is a sickly undertone of malnutrition and infection in it.

As the three of them enter the smaller tunnel, Taylor crinkles his nose. The blood was bad enough, but there is an overwhelming odour of death and decay wafting down the tunnel. A swift scan of the tunnel floor reveals a disembodied human leg, wearing guard issue pants, but it seems too ripe to belong to any of those who had been down there this evening.

There is also a gory trail of blood leading from the bloody pool he’s already spotted and Taylor’s eyes widen at the implication that somebody that hurt could still move and not just a few feet, but apparently all the way down the side tunnel. The tunnel ends in a closed door and whoever was wounded seems to have gotten through the door and closed it behind them. Taylor estimates that the congealing pool and the thick blood trail contain at least four pints of blood, easily enough for the person who left it to be dead by now. The shape of the blood trail supports that, with the bleeding apparently having slowed down as the person crawled on, with only a few spots of blood near the door.

Taylor moves closer to a spot further on in the tunnel, where the bleeding person stopped for a long while. Someone stood over the wounded individual, squatted down and moved the injured one over, perhaps to see the wounds better. The one standing was wearing dress shoes, not guard boots. Taylor remembers that both Townsend and O’Toole wore dress shoes, but has no idea which one of them these tracks belong to. There are no bandage containers or other evidence that the standing person performed first aid, but that doesn’t rule out a careful person having policed all detritus after bandaging. When the wounded person crawled again, the bleeding seemed markedly reduced, though that could have been because blood pressure had fallen down to lethal levels.

By the shoe size, Taylor estimates that the wearer of the dress shoes was a man. It looks like there are several tracks by that same man in this side tunnel. What Taylor estimates to be the first track is when he came running down the main corridor, away from the place where the firefight was. There are bullet holes in the corridor wall that Taylor guesses date from that same period. This would have been before the person bled over the floor, as the blood trail from the crawling person crosses over the earliest shoe track.

After the person was wounded near the main corridor, the man came from the door at the end of the side tunnel and stopped by the wounded person for a spell. After that, the dress shoe wearer walked the opposite way, emerging again in the main corridor. Taylor looks out there, confirming that the shoe tracks continue onward, in the direction that the guards went.

Dr. Anderson: “Did any of the others go up that tunnel?”
Taylor: “Figure one might could have. Came back again, though.”
Belll: “Then let’s get the ---- out of here, it smells yucky!”
Taylor: “Sorry, I jes’ gotta check if’n there’s somebody in there need help.”
Bell: “Are you ----ing kidding me?! We need help, Chase. I need your ----ing help. Are you seriously gonna let me wait here while you go look for some Monster-bait reject who’s probably dead by now?”
Taylor: “I know you ain’t mean that, Lynnie. An’ I ain’t gonna make you wait, y’all is comin’ with me.”
Bell [to Dr. Anderson, frustrated]: “Is he for real?”
Anderson: “I should think you know him better than I do, but this behaviour is entirely consistent with his psych profile.”

With Taylor in the lead, the three of them walk down the side tunnel, all the way to the closed door. Once at the door, Taylor leans close to it and listens. He can hear low singing:

Weak voice: “Of all the boys I've known, and I've known some
Until I first met you, I was lonesome
And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light
And this old world seemed new to me.”

Taylor determines that there is no one breathing inside the room other than the singer. Through the door, Taylor calls: “My name is Chase Taylor. I’s from Homeland Security. We’s here to help, if’n we can.”

Taylor opens the door slowly. The singing is coming from a half-naked woman, a young girl really, lying on top of a filthy mattress. She’s wearing the remnants of a patient’s outfit, reduced to rags, and half of her face is discoloured and swollen. On her arm and leg are more discoloured patches and her chest and stomach is a mess of shiny new skin that almost resembles scales. The smell of death and decay out in the tunnel was emanating from this room. The stench is like a physical force, rotting flesh and the sickly copper tang of old blood mixing with faeces and urine.

Taylor turns away and spits up vomits next to the door, only just managing to stop himself before losing his entire dinner. He tries to stop the others from entering, but Sherilyn Bell steps through the door next and pales. She stifles a scream and backs away in terror and disgust. Dr. Anderson observes the reaction of the other two and wisely decides to cover his nose with a handkerchief before entering the room.
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Last edited by Icelander; 03-14-2017 at 08:14 PM.
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Old 03-13-2017, 04:18 PM   #96
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Taylor wipes vomit off his mouth with the back of his hand, looking ashamed. Then he opens a water bottle, rinses out his mouth and moves to the wounded woman on the mattress while cleaning himself off with a wet wipe. Kneeling by the mattress, brushing the hair out of the uninjured part of the woman’s face, Taylor addresses her soothingly.

Taylor: “Ma’am, is there anything I kin do?”
Woman [weakly]: “Thank God! Are you really here? Did he send you?”
Taylor: “Ma’am?”
Woman: “The man who was here. He said he was going for help.”
Taylor: “We are here to help.”
Woman: “God bless him! He really went for help. I… I thought maybe he’d forgotten or that he’d left me here... in the dark. But I never should have doubted him… God bless him.”
Taylor: “Ma’am, were that man blonde, real good lookin’; talk like he goin’ yachtin’ an’ ain’t got no lower jaw? Or sorta sandy-haired, couple inches shorter than me an’ built? Talk like he gonna ‘pahk the cahr in Hahvahd Yahd’?”
Woman: “Uhhh… 'yahhd', yes! Don’t you know him?”
Taylor: “Surely do know him, ma’am. His name’s O’Toole an’ he’s with us, awright. Now, jes’ lie back, ma’am an’ let me see if’n you’s hurt. I’ma gonna be real careful.”

Taylor gently places a hand on the forehead of the wounded woman. She feebly fumbles for him and seizes his other hand, holding on while weeping quietly. Taylor hugs her carefully, taking care not to hurt her and tells her that she’s safe now, they’ll help her and get her out of there.

Woman: “Please don’t leave me in the dark.”
Taylor: “No, ma’am. We ain’t gonna leave you in the dark.”

With infinite care, Taylor starts to look at the wounds on the woman. The facial injuries look old, but may not have healed properly, as some of the skull and facial bones may have been out of place during the process of healing. The bruising on the limbs and lower torso are less serious, but the extreme malnourishment, dehydration and blood loss of the woman on the mattress requires immediate medical attention.

The worst, however, are the wounds on her stomach, chest and back. What puzzles Taylor is that although they are clearly gunshot wounds, they look like they’ve been healing for days. And the newly healed skin has the strange rough texture and discolouration he observes elsewhere on her body, resembling scales. Taylor runs his hand over the rough skin.

Taylor: “Do it hurt here, ma’am?”
Woman: “I … can’t feel anything anymore but pain.”

She starts coughing weakly, her lungs wheezing, dry lips cracked. Taylor tries to give her a sip of water, but she is too weak to drink it. Taylor looks over at Dr. Anderson.

Taylor: “A lil’ help, doc?”

Dr. Anderson gets gloves from his first aid kit, grabs a flashlight and starts helping Taylor with assessing the condition of the wounded woman.

Dr. Anderson: “How long have you been here, Miss?”
Woman: “I… I don’t know. Long. So very, very long.”
Dr. Anderson: “You have symptoms of malnutrition. Have you been getting any food?”
Woman: “There would sometimes be food left in the tunnels. If no one else got there first. And…”

The woman looks down, crying, trying to hide her face.

Dr. Anderson: “What about this room? Were you trapped here?”
Woman [curling up]: “No… please! Don’t make him take me!”
Taylor: “Hush, ma’am. Ain’t no one hurtin’ you again. Jes’ you relax an’ get better.”

Dr. Anderson and Taylor agree that the patient needs a clean bed and medical supplies. Taylor steps slightly away from the semi-conscious woman, still holding her hand, and motions Dr. Anderson further away, so they can talk without her hearing.

Taylor: “They’d got a bunch of stretchers an’ medical supplies in the cellars o’ the barracks. IV an’ crash kit, too.”
Dr. Anderson: “Will the guards not be there by now?”
Taylor: “I surely do hope not, ‘cause we ain’t lettin’ her die.”

Taylor rips of his tactical vest, shirt and moisture-wicking undershirt, wrapping them up to construct a makeshift carrying sling. Then he and Dr. Anderson carry the wounded woman out of the filthy, rot-smelling room. Cherry Bell is standing in the main corridor, hugging herself tightly, looking like she’s trying to isolate herself from the filth around her. She looks at the stricken woman with revulsion and visceral terror, before her eyes widen.

Bell: “Wait! I know that scaly ass horror hagfiend! Except she was like ancient back when I arrived here. She’s Mrs. Yorick or something. I guess this is maybe her granddaughter or something.”
Dr. Anderson: “You are right! She does look like a young version of Mrs. York, Judith York. But Judith York was born in 1928! This woman looks to be in her early twenties.”
Mrs. York: “Judith York… that was my name. I am Judith York. I… I am still Judith. I’m not lost in the darkness. I’m not a thing. Not a monster.”

Mrs. York cries quietly. Taylor tries ineffectually to comfort her while carrying her in the improvised stretcher. Finally giving up, he lifts the woman into his arms, cradling her like a baby.

Taylor: “It’s okay, Judith. You ain’t in that darkness no more. An’ nothin’ that done happened there kin make you less than a person. You’s been found, Judith. An’ we’s gonna make it better.”

Cherry Bell gags and moves further down the main corridor. Taylor doesn’t look in her direction, continuing to comfort Judith York, but Dr. Anderson shines the flashlight in her direction. Bell is still hugging herself and looks uncomfortable, angry and scared.

Dr. Anderson: “Ms. Bell, can you help us here?”
Cherry Bell: “Not only ‘no’, but ‘hell no’! Just leave the plague-ridden lizard-hag and let’s get going. Maybe take a bath in lye and spirits first, but come on!”
Anderson [to Taylor]: “Obviously, I do not object to providing emergency treatment, but we do have to talk about what we are in a position to do, here.”

Taylor nods and when they get to the service tunnel, he spreads out his shirt and undershirt on the floor to make a temporary cot for Mrs. York. He places her there and Dr. Anderson checks her vitals. Mrs. York mumbles under her breath, but then slips into an exhausted sleep. After checking that her vitals are stable and that she is in a deep sleep, Taylor nods at Dr. Anderson to come with him inside the barracks again. Dr. Anderson reveals a full set of lockpicks and unlocks the blast door again.

After that, Anderson and Taylor open the blast door as carefully as they can. Taylor doesn’t hear anyone moving around inside the barracks, but is pretty certain that there are guards talking in low voices outside. That means a few minutes, at the very best, until they enter the barracks and after that, there’s no telling where they’ll start their sweep of the building. Taylor and Dr. Anderson grab some medical supplies, stretcher, IV, crash kit, saline drip and sterilising fluids.

Dr. Anderson and Taylor both notice that one of the five guards in the cellar is feigning sleep. It’s Oresco, whose broken wrist is probably giving him pain. Taylor pats him on the shoulder and tells Oresco how sorry he is about having hurt him. Dr. Anderson solicitously asks if Oresco wants some painkillers and when he accepts, gives him a couple of Vicodin with some bottled water. Oresco takes a sip and then falls asleep as Dr. Anderson is taking his vitals.

While Taylor gathers the supplies, Dr. Anderson checks on the rest of the guards in the cellar. They are all sleeping soundly by the time they leave the cellars. Taylor still can’t hear anyone upstairs, but figures it’s only a matter of time. Apparently Warden Tyrrell didn’t have much luck gathering his men without using radios or maybe they are really spooked going into a prepared position against somebody who has already displayed a disquieting tendency to rig explosive traps.

They leave the cellar and lock the cellar door behind them again. While Dr. Anderson is preparing the IV, Taylor pulls him out of hearing range from the unconscious Mrs. York.

Taylor: “I hate to hafta keep doin’ this, doc, but I’s gonna ask you another favor I ain’t got no right to. We cain’t leave her alone. Couldya stay with her? I’d do it myself, only, I cain’t be sure them Coasties is gonna be here early enough to help Banks, Burr and the rest. An’ no offence, doc, but I ain’t sure you wanna go play special operator agains’ all them guards.”
Dr. Anderson: “She is sleeping calmly now. Could we not send someone after her when this is over? She has lived this long, when she ought to be dead three times over, apparently healed wounds that almost killed her in less than an hour. In my professional judgment, she is unlikely to die within the next few hours. Hell, she may even be recovered by the time the Coast Guard arrives.”
Taylor: “I ain’t jes’ talking about her body, doc. Didn’t ya see? We cain’t make her wake up with nobody aroun’, jes’ her and the hungry dark. She’s so alone.”
Anderson: “Do we even know that she is a victim, not a perpetrator? You saw that room. You can guess what she has been eating.”
Taylor: “Ain’t no matter what she’s been eating. She’s a victim, doc. She ain’t never done chose this.”
Dr. Anderson: “Well, I am sorry, Taylor, but I am afraid that I cannot stay here alone with her. We do not know what might be still in the tunnels, the guards might follow us down here and… well, I am not sure I would be safe from her when she wakes.”
Taylor: “Sorry, doc. You’re right, I cain’t ask that o’ you. We’s gonna hafta take her with us.”

Taylor does not wait for an answer and starts to move Mrs. York into a stretcher, which causes Dr. Anderson to move to assist him. While Dr. Anderson inserts the IV, Taylor cleans Mrs. York’s wounds and pours some spirits over his hands as well.

Cherry Bell [from beyond the service tunnel]: “You oughtn’t touch lizards. They live in sewers and carry plagues. This is how you get scaly plagues, Chase!”
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Old 03-14-2017, 04:37 AM   #97
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Cherry Bell feels anxious, ignored and terrified. She also feels like the dank, unpleasant tunnels are closing in on her, enclosing her in a foul miasma of disease and filth. While Cherry has always enjoyed a nice bubble bath, she’s never been a neat freak or obsessive about germs, but this is just too much. How can Chase and Mr. M touch that plague-encrusted cannibal lizard bitch? At least Dr. Anderson is wearing plastic gloves while inserting an IV needle into the disgusting vein of that sewer-dwelling reptilian monster. Stupid, horrid, insensitive Chase got her filthy lizard gunk all over himself, even stripping down to his ridiculous dirty wife-beater and carrying that cannibal hag like she’s his personal rescued Disney Princess, just to make sure he got scaly-plague everywhere.

Dr. Anderson notes that as he inserts the IV, the flesh nearest the needle first bruises badly, but then starts exhibiting similar symptoms of discolouration as the other patches. There was no plasma in the cellar (it is probably stored in the infirmary), which the patient must urgently need, but just saline and dextrose might be enough to prevent death from systemic collapse, especially as Mrs. York already seems to be quite a bit healthier than anyone who has recently had a collapsed lung and lost more than half the blood in her body should be.

Mrs. York is extremely emaciated, of course, which is troubling. Dr. Anderson estimates she might weight around 80 lbs., though she is around average height. That is well within life-threatening levels and the extreme dehydration does not help. As supermodels find a way to live with similar malnutrition, Dr. Anderson is hopeful for Mrs. York, especially if he can continue to feed her nutrition through an IV. Already, Dr. Anderson is discounting the idea that the gunshot wounds will kill her, as he can see that the older head trauma she is suffering from would have killed a normal person, but the skull has knit itself together. Not correctly, however, which means that she may require surgery.

Dr. Anderson: “I treated Mrs. Judith York in 1996-1998. This woman has an identical birthmark on her neck and the shape of the unwounded eye, the cheekbones, the nose and the jawline is too close a match for coincidence. I would almost say that this would have to be a clone of her, the resemblance is so perfect, but for one thing. Mrs. York broke her left elbow in 1995 and it healed perfectly, except for a slight bump. This woman exhibits the same bump.”
Taylor: “So, doc, you’s saying this is Mrs. York? Jes’, ya know, some sixty years younger an’ with a bad skin rash?”
Anderson: “It is evidently Mrs. York. She appears to be around seventy years younger than she should be, but almost as impressive, Mrs. York was diagnosed in 1992 with early onset dementia. By the time I knew her, she was well into the moderate-to-advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease. This woman, despite having suffered fairly recent massive head trauma and severe blood loss, exhibits considerably less cognitive impairment than Mrs. York when I last saw her. In fact, she may well present within normal ranges, despite her recent trauma, which would indicate that almost a decade of cortical atrophy and associated neurodegeneration has been reversed.”
Taylor: “Ain’t that great, doc?”
Anderson [sighs]: “I do not think you understand, Taylor. Damage from neurodegeneration is usually regarded as permanent. Scientifically, she could have grown new limbs or even a new head before anyone would accept that she could somehow repair atrophied areas of the brain, replace dead brain cells and connect them into a functioning neural network. It is, well, it is a miracle, far more wide ranging than merely a mutation or other condition that causes her skin and flesh to heal rapidly.”
[Taylor grins]
Taylor: “If’n I were to tell you His ways are mysterious, it wouldn’t make no nevermind to ya, would it? You’d still be on that there mystery like white on rice?”
Anderson: “I would, yes. We’ve been endowed with intelligence, no matter by whom, and that means mysteries are ours to solve.”
Taylor [smiling]: “Then God willin’ an’ the creek don’t rise, we’s gonna get out of here and ya kin take a good long while treating Mrs. York. I figure she’ll be needin’ a good doc, treat her mind an’ body both, for a mighty long spell, ‘bout as much as you’ll be wanting to learn them mysteries what’s in her brain.”
Anderson: “From your lips to the ear of whoever is inclined to prevent creeks from rising.”

Dr. Anderson and Taylor have finished strapping Mrs. York into the stretcher and preparing her for travel as best they can. She’ll have the IV needle in her as they travel, which makes the stretcher harder to carry, but given her condition, seems to be necessary. Taylor leaves the guard shirt and his undershirt around Mrs. York, but takes the tactical vest and stab-protective arm guards. They weren’t in direct contact with Mrs. York, but Cherry Bell still gives them a poisonous glance as Taylor prepares to put them on over his increasingly abused tank top.

Taylor rolls his eyes, but uses a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and plenty of wipes to clean the tactical vest and arm guards thoroughly before putting them on. He also washes himself with the solution, washing it off using moist towelettes.

Cherry Bell: “You’re dreaming if you think I’m ever touching you.”
Taylor: “Maintainin’ contact at all times while we’s gonna be navigatin’ them tunnels ain’t optional, Sherilyn. If’n you like, ya kin take rear sentry an’ hold on to Dr. Anderson. He done used gloves.”
Bell: “He’s still got dirty lizard all over him.”
Taylor: “Sherilyn, I ain’t gonna argue. We done talked ‘bout this. I ain’t as smart as you is, but I’m trained an’ when it come to that, you gonna listen. When I tell ya to do somethin’ in a tactical situation, I ain’t being an overprotective boyfrien’ or a pushy controllin’ one, neither.”
Bell: “Yeah, ‘cause you ain’t my boyfriend!”
Taylor: “I know I ain’t. But when I’ma tellin’ you to do somethin’ what might matter when folks is a-shootin’ at us, I’ma doin’ it ‘cause mindin’ real smart an’ not arskin’ fool questions be a matter o’ life an’ death. Ya done knowed this, even all them years back. What’s many cooks a-gonna do to Brunswick stew, Lynnie?”
Bell [sighing]: “Ruin it.”
Taylor: “Yeah. An’ if’n there’s even a chance o’ shootin’, there ain’t but one shot-caller. I ain’t gonna tell you what ya kin do when you gets your own life. Right now, though, we’s got to be smart, we’s got to be organised an’ we’s got to have unity o’ command. The Lord know I ain’t fit for command, but ya see anybody else what’s got the skills? If’n you gots a better idea, now’s the time, Lynnie.”
Bell: “Jeez, Chase. I got it. You’re in charge. I’ll even put on a glove and touch Mr. M’s sleeve. But can’t we at least leave the disease-ridden hag behind for somebody else to rescue?”

Taylor shushes her with an imperious gesture, proceeding to ignore her completely. While furious, Cherry Bell obeys and shuts up, readying her rifle. Taylor listens for half a minute before saying a word. His face is rigidly set in an emotionless mask and the only indication that he feels anything at all is the fact that he keeps clenching and unclenching his right fist. Once he’s satisfied that he has heard enough, Taylor motions Dr. Anderson and Bell close to speak in an extremely low voice.

Taylor: “We’s gots guards in them barracks. It’s ole’ Warden Tyrrell himself an’ five o’ his men. I figure they be in full tactical wear with all them fixings. He’s done sent two o’ his men down here, but they’s jes’ to check if’n we in the cellar. They’s gonna search the whole barracks room by room. An’ they ain’t comin’ down here, they’s got welding gear to close this here door for good. That mean they do got a blocking element in them tunnels an’ they is confident they’ll stop us.”
Dr. Anderson: “Then what can we do?”

Taylor is obviously torn. Warden Tyrrell can’t have stripped the towers of guards, not with the Coast Guard circling the island. He’ll also need to have left at least a skeleton crew behind in the main building, more probably enough guards to control any hostages and deal with unforeseen contingencies like unruly inmates or staff that isn’t part of this strange mutiny. Then there will be SRT sharpshooters in place surrounding the barracks, blocking egress from the windows. All of which means that the five men Taylor heard moving around inside with Warden Tyrrell is probably his entire assault force. And the blocking element can’t be much larger than four men.

Special Response Team. Grand sounding title for a bunch of reservists and part-time cops, really just security guards with slightly fancier gear and a minimal training budget instead of none. Five of them and the Warden. Get the blast door open before they started welding, toss in a grenade and Warden Tyrrell would be choking on his own blood before his ears stopped ringing. And maybe his death would end it. And maybe it wouldn’t. Just leave five other men dead because they followed a megalomaniac leader telling them lies.

Taylor: “We gonna stick to our plan. Trick the blockin’ team they’s got in these here tunnels, sneak past them and get to the jammer. See if’n we kin help the hostages. Guide the Coast Guard in an’ try for minimal bloodshed.”
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Last edited by Icelander; 05-05-2017 at 03:37 AM.
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Old 03-14-2017, 04:55 PM   #98
johndallman
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Default Re: Bei Mir Bistu Shein

Quote:
Originally Posted by Icelander View Post
After that, the dress shoe wearer walked the opposite way, emerging again in the main corridor. Taylor looks out there, confirming that the shoe tracks continue onward, in the direction that the guards went.
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Originally Posted by Icelander View Post
Taylor: “Surely do know him, ma’am. His name’s O’Toole an’ he’s with us, awright. Now, jes’ lie back, ma’am an’ let me see if’n you’s hurt. I’s gonna be real careful.”
OK, so now Taylor knows which way O'Toole went. I'm a little surprised he isn't interested in trying to find O'Toole - or was the player absent?
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Old 03-14-2017, 07:41 PM   #99
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Default Re: Bei Mir Bistu Shein

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Originally Posted by johndallman View Post
OK, so now Taylor knows which way O'Toole went. I'm a little surprised he isn't interested in trying to find O'Toole - or was the player absent?
Well, O'Toole walked the same way that the guards did. Following them is following him.

That being said, O'Toole was clearly functionally unwounded and able to choose his direction. There was no reason to assume O'Toole would run any major risks or do anything but attempt to gather a little information he could radio to the Coast Guard once the jammer was out. He seemed to have left the others behind to escape, which might argue unconcern with their fate, but could also have been bad luck.

The fact that O'Toole is following the guards with their captives as they leave argues that it was not pure selfish cowardice, but then again, he seems to have made zero effort to help Mrs. York, not even walking two minutes to the barracks cellar to check if Taylor were there and inform him that there was a wounded woman who needed help. And it's not as if the tracks indicate that he was in any hurry, as it is evident that O'Toole made sure not to follow too closely. He just seems to have wanted to know which building they were taken to, which would be a useful factoid to radio the Coast Guard in case somebody else deals with the jammer. Looks more like a low-risk face-saving effort than anything else.

O'Toole comes after helpless casualties with life-threathening injuries and serious psychological trauma in any reasonable triage. Hostages potentially subject to torture or other mistreatment by their captors also have higher priority of rescue than an able-bodied law enforcement officer whose situation is no worse than 'possibly nervous or even frightened'.
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Old 03-15-2017, 03:55 AM   #100
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Default In the Hall of the Rodent King?

As our heroes walk through the dark tunnels under the Manhanock Asylum for the Criminally Insane, Taylor goes first, but instead of being able to stalk silently, he is carrying the front end of the stretcher for Mrs. York and has secured the IV drip to his back, so she can continue to receive fluids and nutrition as they walk. Dr. Anderson carries the rear part of the stretcher and has to make sure that the IV line stays steady, as Cherry Bell absolutely refuses to come any nearer ‘that lizard bitch’ than she is forced to do by keeping one outstretched, gloved hand in contact with Dr. Anderson’s elbow.

Dr. Anderson is no longer wearing the night vision goggles he scavenged from the guard barracks, as experience and Taylor’s advice has convinced him that without IR lighting, they are not powerful enough to allow him to see anything in darkness this absolute, anyway. And Taylor has forbidden them from using IR light, saying that guards with good NV optics mounted on their rifles will spot it long before they could spot the guards. So Dr. Anderson is walking without the benefit of vision, having to trust Taylor to pick a route where nothing can trip him up.

Taylor chooses to follow the obvious tracks where a group of guards carried two wounded people and wheeled the third, almost certainly ‘Special Agent’ Vicente Berrocal, along with them in a wheelchair. He notes that the man in dress shoes, who seems to have been O’Toole, also followed this trail, walking slowly and stopping frequently to ensure that he never came close enough to be detected. There were eight men walking this route, four of them carrying two wounded, one wheeling Berrocal and two walking close enough to make it plausible that one of them was roughly leading the other by arm.

That leaves one man walking point. That one was wearing the same kind of boots as the rest, but they were probably size fifteens or even larger. Warden Tyrrell looked to be about six foot six, when they’d seen him briefly at the docks. There could be other large guards, of course, but if the Warden came down here, which Taylor figured he did, would he carry a burden while someone else walked point? Probably not. ‘King’ wasn’t a title for the modest or shy. So these were Warden Tyrrell’s tracks. Taylor feels a strange sense of unreality following in the footsteps of his enemy while he knows every step takes him further away from the barracks, where he could have finished this.

Taylor forces himself to focus on the blocking element that must be somewhere in these tunnels. Between two to four guards, Taylor guesses, possibly with armed orderlies to assist. Judging from James and Gilbert in the barracks dining hall, any orderlies are unlikely to want to be there and would probably not react quickly to a violent encounter. Sherilyn Bell ought to be able to befuddle them long before they decide to shoot, as long as Taylor is careful to spot the ambush before walking into it. From what Dr. Anderson has said about these tunnels, there was only one sensible ambush location remaining, since they weren’t at the T-intersection close to the barracks.

The guards couldn’t be certain which route they’d take after that, but once close to the main complex, there was a wider corridor which linked all the tunnels running to the different wings. Anyone wanting to cut off somebody moving from barracks to some part of the main complex would almost have to set up position there, unless they knew exactly which route their target would take. Before they enter this main corridor, therefore, Taylor stops for a good long minute, holding his breath and listening intently. Once the minute is up, he looks back at Dr. Anderson and Sherilyn Bell, mouthing: “Nothing. They ain’t here.

In the darkness, neither of them see a thing, of course. Sighing, Taylor stabilises the stretcher with a thigh for a moment as he taps Dr. Anderson’s arm in the sign for ‘Follow me’. They walk over the wide main corridor, taking the branch which the tracks of the guards still follow. If Taylor remembers Dr. Anderson’s lecture on the tunnels correctly, that would be the direction to the D Wing and the quickest way to reach the main building from the barracks.

Once in the tunnel heading to D, Taylor stops suddenly. There is a smell he ought to have noticed earlier, a rank, acrid ammonia stench. It’s not quite as musky as the urine of Terry Amiti and, in fact, Taylor is pretty sure it is not human. He can’t really explain how he knows, as he certainly doesn’t have the biochemistry background to define the difference, but he’s usually found his instincts accurate when it comes to what he can sense. Now that he’s out of Fort Leavenworth and off the drugs they were giving him there, perhaps he’ll even be able to learn to differentiate consciously between various odours. He just wishes he wasn’t starting with different types of urine and faeces.

Taylor stops and taps Dr. Anderson again, this time with the signal to stop. Listening carefully, he can hear something odd up ahead, inside an abandoned laboratory off to the side of the tunnel, maybe fifty feet away. It’s breathing, but breathing usually too faint to hear that far off, except it seems like it’s coming from numerous sources at once. In fact, it sounds like breathing played on a lot of stereos at once, as it seems to be harmonising perfectly. Though since there is no feedback or distortion from mechanical devices, maybe it is a lot of tiny beings breathing in perfect unison in that room.

Cherry Bell [whisper]: “Why are we stopped?”

Taylor grimaces. The breathing stops for a second and then starts again, more energetically. As if the small beings are moving around in there, but retaining their synchronised breathing exercise. From the open door of the abandoned lab comes a single tiny form, a good-sized rat, maybe weighing around a pound.

Taylor [quietly, not whispering]: “Rats. We’s going back. Doc, guide us the long way ‘round to the compound.”

They back away slowly. Taylor draws his Bushman survival knife with the stretcher resting on his hip, which causes Dr. Anderson to wobble. They stop so that Taylor can find the the bottle of isopropyl alcohol he used to wash his armour earlier and start to pour some of it in a line on the floor. The lone rat runs toward them, looking like it is trying to make it before the line is finished and Taylor whips his knife at it. The Bushman transfixes the rat through the stomach, giving rise to a shrill dying squeal of pain. All the breathers in the laboratory hiss in unison. Then they all start running. As they come into view, Taylor can see at least forty rats, perhaps a lot more. They seem to be moving with uncanny coordination, spreading out to the sides like the fingers of a hand grasping for something.

Taylor: “Lynnie, I needs something flammable that I kin throw a good long distance.”

Taylor takes a Zippo lighter he found in the guard barracks from his pocket and lights it. Then he and Dr. Anderson back away with the stretcher between them as Cherry Bell, with a disgusted look on her face, digs through the medical supplies in the crash kit fastened to the stretcher. She triumphantly turns up another bottle of surgical alcohol and starts to make a Molotov cocktail using a bandage she wets in it. Taylor notices that when the rat swarm reaches the dying rat with the knife through it, a knot forms in the running swarm and the squeals die away. Some six rats break away from the swarm holding the bloody knife between them.

As the rats reach the line of isopropyl alcohol on the floor, they stop short. With military precision, individual rats investigate if there are any breaks in the line, but do not seem to find any. They stay far enough back to indicate that it is not only the smell that bothers them, but that they might be afraid that the substance will hurt them. Taylor is probably too far to reach it with the Zippo, at least while it is still lit, but even if he did, he doubts he’d kill a single rat. Of course, in ten seconds or so, when the fumes have had time to spread slightly, it might be a different story. It can’t take much flame to ignite the fur of a rat.

Taylor’s ears can hear sounds in a wider range than the ordinary human ear. He can tell that the rats in front of him are not merely making random chittering and squeaking sounds as they gather around the line of alcohol on the ground. When half of them rush off running in the other direction, it comes as a nasty confirmation, but not really a surprise. What does come as a surprise is when Taylor realises that he can make out individual words among the high-pitched squeaking of the rats. In broken English, like what somebody might pick up by listening to others speak without ever interacting with them or having any concept of grammar.

Rat swarm: “Why man? Kill man! Man kill! Pain! Hurting! Why man? Why?”
Taylor: “Doc, if’n somebody were to cut across the next tunnel yonder from here, might could they happen to sit plumb across our long way ‘round to that there main complex?”
Dr. Anderson: “If you mean the tunnel running diagonal to that one to the right, yes.”
Taylor: “Ain’t that a fine howdy-do. Them rats gots more tactical know-how than them guards an' they's better at cussin' than Warden Tyrrell, too. Guess we ain’t going the long way ‘round nowhow.”
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Last edited by Icelander; 03-15-2017 at 06:16 AM.
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