Quagmire's Gate Page 8

  Although he had managed to reign in his stampeding heart, his hands were still shaking. Because of it he had trouble opening another desk drawer. Two hands devotedly gripped the fragile ancient book. As tenderly as a baby in swaddling cloth, he laid it on the desk. He knew it would come to this. Diligently he opened the fragile book to a well-marked passage. Although he started to quote the passage aloud, he was not looking at the page. As any good zealot, the passage had been burned into memory.

  With eyes to the floor, in the direction of his god, he cited,

  “And it is written in the Book of the Under that there is a great divide between the Under World and the Upper World. It is a world accessible by a gate that by the law of the Upper kingdom shall never be opened. It is the command of the Upper World that there shall be no crossing over of the worlds. The Upper and Lower must never be transcended. One may not suffer one world and enjoy the other. However, that is a law of the Upper realm and not recognized by the Under Master. From the patrons of the Under there shall one day come a man empowered to unlock the gate leading to the Upper World.”

  Repeatedly he quoted aloud another passage.

  “One day a man shall step forward to open that locked gate allowing for an invading army to conquer the Upper World.”

  He knew that it was a passage pointing directly at him. All the pestilence of the Under World will storm through the gate he is currently looking for. He will be the one leading the army into war against the angels above. Slowly, ever so carefully he closed the Book of the Under and returned it to his desk drawer. For a brief moment he closed his mind to all around him and relished in his demented soon to be realized glory.

  The General now nervously paced back and forth across the floor. He was contemplating actions against his adversaries. By his best reckoning, there are currently two enemies to be dealt with. The first one, Whelan Christianson will be the easiest. Orders, no matter what he thinks of them will be obeyed. He was sure of that, sure that Whelan would fall prey to the conditions of his training. The second will not be so easy. Although she was also military, for some reason she cast aside the need to obey orders. Doctor Lynda Gray will have to be controlled in other ways.

  Suddenly a marvelously malevolent thought came to him. He stopped dead in his tracks, looked in the direction of his shoes and thanked the source of his inspiration. Yes! She was filled with accountability. Quickly returning to his desk, he activated the intercom. With a bellowing tone he commanded,

  “Miss Crammer, did Officer Christianson leave the Doctor Lynda Gray file with you?”

  That hated impertinent voice shot back at him.

  “Yea, I think he did, why?”

  He fumed. Silent words shot though his mind, ‘the proper reply was ‘Yes Sir!’, and not followed with a damn question’. He yelled,

  “Did he or didn’t he?”

  She was a tad bit sheepish when bringing it into his office and casually dropping it onto his desk. Without a word, she turned in a huff and departed. Before getting to the door, he stopped her with a question she took as threatening.

  “How much time is left of your contract with us Miss Crammer?”

  She did not answer and continued walking out the door.

  Back at her desk, she picked up another file and pulled out copies of the folder she had just delivered to the General’s desk. She was fuming. He had threatened her in that manner too many times. One of these days, this folder will be presented to the Astrophysical Securities Council rather than just a page or two at a time. Opening the file, she read the papers she had just copied minutes earlier. Terri Gray, daughter of Lynda Gray, was eighteen years old. She was currently attending the University of Paris on an Arts Grant. This was not the first file she had read that made no sense to her. Why would an institution like this be interested in a young single woman attending a university in Europe?

  Through the secretly open intercom, she heard mumblings that drew her attention. Leaning closer she flipped a switch and a green ‘record’ light came on. She mumbled aloud,

  “There he goes mumbling that stupid incoherent blasphemy again.”

  The computer heard and recorded every word.

  “And the gates of the Under World opened wide. Countless plagues led by the champion of the Under World riding a great black horned beast stormed through.”

  Intensely listening she whispered,

  “What a fool. When one fools with the laws of God how can you not expect retribution?”

  The red light indicated the end of the recording.

  Chapter 7

  Pity the man who gets near her heart. By her own reckoning, Lynda Gray had never forgiven her husband for abandoning her. After all the early years of tending to his injuries, the years of marriage and devotion and he pulled a stunt like that. She begged him not to go. All he had to do was listen to her and they would still be married and she would not be in this isolated hell hole of despair.

  Thirteen years after Terri came into their life, Jeff was still on the permanently disabled list of the Royal Australian Air Force. Although able to hold his Flight Officer commission with his full rank and pay, the intrinsic need to fly never left his soul. Even after the near death incident and all the hell both went through just to get him out of bed, there were still wings attached to him. He needed to fly again.

  Despite a strong will and determination, he painfully understood that returning as the Captain of the Golden Eagles Synchronized Fly Team was forever out of the question. Flying any jet was now out of the question. However, that did not stop him from building a small single engine plane of his own with a dream of eventually flying it. It took three years from the first bolt to the final attachment to complete it.

  A small single engine Cessna finally stood on the tarmac fueled and ready for the maiden flight. That was when Lynda’s nightmares returned. In them, she repeatedly saw him in the hospital covered in bandages. His screams echoed through the hospital and now in her dreams. How could he even think to subject her to such torture again? Does he not see her anguish and fear of losing him to another fiery crash? Where was his compassion for her? Does it not equal hers for him? She repeatedly begged,

  “Please do not return to the air. Please do not fly that wretched thing. What if I lose you again? Think of us, of Terri and myself. What will we do without you?”

  However, a woman’s fear and premonitions of doom were secondary to what was running wild inside him. Did she not understand that he simply had to return to the air? The passion that had driven him to be the Captain of the Flight Team had not been injured. It was still strong inside him. It was all that kept his heart pumping, all that drove him to survive so that one day he might fly again. Frantic pleadings and predictions of doom were simply the ranting of a woman who did not understand the workings of a man. He built it himself. He knew this machine and appreciated it for what it was. It was the culmination of his desire. It was what had driven him all his life. He must fly and now he finally can again.

  The weather was clear, not a cloud in the sky. Mild westerly winds were gusting at five knots. The tower at Air force Base Alpha Green had given him a ‘go’ to taxi onto Runway 3. Wings straight, flaps down and soon the runway would be his. His heart was pumping as fast and perfect as the single engine. Captain Jeff Gray’s hand tightened on the throttle. He mentally ran through a final pre-trip. Fuel, check. Flaps, check. Oil pressure, check. And so it went right down to the exact air pressure he knew was in the tires. A voice from the tower sent adrenalin flowing.

  “Clear for takeoff. Have a nice flight Captain Gray.”

  It soared just as he knew it should. There was a slight yawing but the left flap countered the five-knot gust pushing against the side. How good it felt to be airborne again. Now that the joystick was back in his hand, the last horrible years of recovery were all but forgotten. How could Lynda not appreciate that it was just one more thing to be cured? He wanted her to be proud of his accomplishment and desire to return t
o the sky. However, she did not see a proud man sitting at the controls. She saw a horribly crippled man suffering years of recovery.

  At three thousand feet, the cable snapped and Captain Gray lost control of the tail flaps. Lynda Gray stood on the ground and watched her husband’s dream plummet to the earth with him in it. She watched in surprised calmness as it exploded on impact. After all, she knew it was going to happen. She had seen it happen so often in her dreams.

  In her mind, Jeff deliberately left her and Terri for the love of another. He must have known it was going to happen for she had told him so many times. Yet he still went up. Why? Lynda suffers those horrible questions to this day. Her husband willingly left her for another love even after she begged him so many times not to go. How could he do that to her?

  As surely as the plane crashed and destroyed her life so did Lynda’s capacity to understand why it happened. Her love for him and confusion for what he did to her also ended up in a tangled heap on the ground. She was left in a mental state that required constant care. Like so many others who have lost loved ones, she blamed the departed for her loneliness. To this day Lynda struggled with the hate she carried for Jeff because he had left her to suffer alone the horrors of this world. Jeff was the reason she was stuck in this boring hellhole called Deep Lab 6 Research Laboratory.

  While sitting at her desk and fighting back those memories, she was reading what she considered to be a sad love story. She read, ‘I am sorry Marsha but I am leaving you’.

  Her cynicism for the character’s paper love prompted a snide aloud comment.

  “You heartless ass. Consider her feeling, she loves you.”

  Marsha pleaded,

  ‘What of all the memories, all our good times?’

  The man continued his storied comments,

  ‘I am sorry but there are no memories any more. I have found another love.’

  Again Lynda grunted aloud,

  “You bastard! Castrate him.”

  Lynda stared at the cover looking at a macho man passionately holding in his strong arms the desiring limp body of a surrendering woman. Love was in her eyes while lust glowed from the orbs of the man. For the first time, Lynda understood the difference, the discrepancy of opposite intent. Another reflection slammed into her. Why did Security Officer Whelan Christianson’s smile please her so much?

  With a reflective mind lost to the suffering of poor Marsha, Lynda put the book down and looked at the emptiness of her medical office. The metaphor did not escape her. It was as empty as her heart and soul. She tried her best to prevent it but a persistent tear struggled forward and rolled down her cheek.

  Chapter 8

  The shrill whistle of the boiling water rudely jolted her away from the book and back to the reality of the Medical Lab. It was teatime. A casual hand wiped away a tear. After marking her page and closing the book, she prepared to obey the teakettle’s call. She placed the cup and saucer on the desk and pulled out two tea biscuits from a bag. As the tea steeped, she was about to settle down and enjoy the brew when the infirmary door hissed open.

  Normally she relished somebody limping in with a bloody arm but not right now, not in the middle of her tea break. A proper tea must be enjoyed right away or it is ruined. However, duty called. She remembered swearing on a stack of something or other that she would administer medical assistance come rain, snow, or something like that.

  Annoyed, she turned around to meet her patient. Annoyance was the first feeling that flittered away and the teacup eagerly pushed aside. Cold tea is okay sometimes. Trying to maintain an air of professionalism, she said,

  “Officer Christianson, what a surprise.”

  Thank goodness, she was able to stop herself from saying, ‘what can I do ‘to’ you today’? After a silent reprimand, she made a hasty mental note not to be so influenced by those romantic paperback characters.

  There was a friendlier air about Whelan today and it quickly broke down her determination to suppress a smile. It was a challenging task lost in the first battle. She could not help it. A strange feeling sensually floated through her from head to toe, a feeling not felt in a good long while. She tilted her head ever so slightly and sensually smiled with lips as well as eyes. Normally she would have been embarrassed at such a blatant flirt but because he instantly turned red, she felt she had come out on top. Pointing to the other chair, he asked,

  “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Struggling to force the smile away, she pointed to the chair across from her desk.

  Ignoring a voice in her head telling her not to, she got up from her desk and slowly sauntered around to sit in the other chair across from him. She crossed her legs and waited for him to start talking. His eyes slowly slithered downward until the target was realized. It was obvious that what he was staring at struck the poor man in a limbo state. That long forgotten feeling of coyness started swirling around her again. She asked,

  “Yes Mr. Christianson?”

  Snapping out of wherever his mind had wandered, he looked up and blurted out,

  “I would feel more comfortable if you called me Whelan.”

  She was pleased to hear that and said,

  “So I make you feel uncomfortable do I?”

  It was difficult for him to admit,

  “Yes, very much.”

  She glowed in the victory.

  “I see. So if I agree to call you Whelan, am I then to understand that you are asking for some semblance of kindness between us, a truce as it were?”

  He nodded and added,

  “Yes, that would be very nice, thank you.”

  “Fine, but by the rules of engagement you should then call me Lynda. Are you prepared to surrender to those terms?”

  She smiled when hearing,

  “Yes Lynda, I will be very glad to comply with those terms.”

  She was not finished playing with him and added,

  “Do I need to get Joseph to draw up a six page contract for this truce?”

  He understood the taunt, smiled and said,

  “No, that will not be necessary. I think I will remember the conditions.”

  She then accidently blurted out,

  “Fine Whelan. Now what may I do ‘to’ you?”

  She hoped it was only her imagination that slipped out such a blatant thought.

  Reaching into his jacket pocket he brought out what she recognized as a security pass. As he reached across to her, obviously expecting her to take it, she clamped her hands tight in her lap and asked,

  “What is this all about Whelan? Am I dismissed?”

  “No, it’s actually an upgrade security clearance. Because of your medical background in the Australian Air Force you have been judged eligible to enter the lab looking for a possible bio-medical leak.”

  That surprised her greatly. Although having to confess that she was interested in what was going on over there she had long since resigned herself to never knowing. Despite her delight in finally getting the chance, she was able to ask,

  “Oh. I thought what was going on over there was a science project. How could my medical background serve you there?”

  With the pass still extended to her he said,

  “Take the damn thing, my arm is getting tired.”

  As she reached out for it, he answered her question.

  “Yes, about your medical qualifications in a science lab. Well, that is just it. We are not sure if your expertize will serve us or not. It is just that after an extensive investigation, the scientists have conceded defeat. They do not know what happened to Jimmy Hatcher. The only possible thing left is a bio-contamination investigation of the mystery.”

  She was quick to grasp the word, ‘contamination’. After an intense stare, trying her best to read him, she finally gave up. It had been too long since looking into the eyes of a man trying to understand him. She asked,

  “There are many contagions. Do you have any idea what sort of toxicities I should be looking for?”

&nbs
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