Lethal Injection Page 2

  Before he could scream, the gray-haired man stood on the other side of him and inserted a second needle and began withdrawing blood. Ian looked back to Wren, so far the only one who had actually told him anything. Wren had small, blue eyes, and his nose was crooked. There was a softness to his appearance, despite his harsh tone. He had a slight smile on his face.

  “You’ll be asleep again soon,” Wren said, “but in a little while you’ll wake up and begin your sentence. Your death sentence.”

  A flash of a memory surged into Ian’s mind—white pants, handcuffs, a gurney with endless straps, needles, bright lights. He couldn’t speak, could hardly keep his eyes open as the worms crept their way up his throat.

  The gray-haired man, who continued to chortle, gave a mocking wave. “See you soon.”

  Ian squeezed his eyes shut and everything went black.

  ****

  Earth, years earlier

  Ian paced the lab, tenseness in his gut, his eyes on his lab partner, Malaki Pederson.

  “You will remember, Ian. Everything will come back to you. Eventually. I can promise you that.” Malaki pushed up his narrow glasses, then focused more deeply on the test tube in his hand. It had just been filled with a bluish liquid called memroth. He shook it gently, holding it in front of his face and squinting at the tiny particles inside. “Yes… yes, this is what you’re gonna be on the lookout for, except in solid form. Actually, more like rock form. But I promise you, your memory will come back to you. All of it.”

  Malaki held the test tube out to Ian, who carefully took it and eyed it closely, spotting remnants of dark black specs floating in the liquidized memroth. He and Malaki now knew the familiar liquid to be the peril facing them. Facing them all.

  “We’ve been working with this for years. I remember what it looks like.” Ian took his glasses off and wiped his brow, setting the tube back in the rack. “And, yes, everything will come back to me, I know that.” He yanked off his rubber gloves. “It’s just, how long will it take? And will all of it come back, and all at once? That’s the part I question. How can I accomplish what I need to if I don’t remember?”

  Malaki strode to one of the large sinks in their private, classified lab and scrubbed his hands. “Based on my studies, I believe all of your memory will come back. How quickly, and all at the same time? I’m not fully certain on that, but if I were to take a guess, I’d say it’ll come to you gradually.” Malaki pulled a clean white towel out of the cupboard next to the sink and dried off his hands. “Are second thoughts hounding that brilliant mind of yours?” He plunked himself onto a tall stool, pulling the white bandana off his bushy black hair, and rubbed his bearded chin. “I’ve always said I’d be willing to go, you know.”

  Ian pressed his lips together and tightened his fists. “I’m not having second thoughts. No. I’ve got to do this, we’ve done the studies. Between the two of us, I stand the better chance of the memories coming back faster, at least most of them.”

  Malaki stood and gripped Ian’s shoulder. “That is true, my friend, but still, if you want me to take your place, I’ll do so. You just have to say the word.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” Ian unzipped his rubber Hazmat suit and stepped out of it. “I’ll need you here. You’re going to be my only help, the only one who knows anything of what’s going on. I can’t accomplish this without you.”

  Malaki’s eyes shot upward to a small dot in the ceiling, a surveillance camera, then he returned his gaze to Ian. “You did activate that thing, so it’s on view mode only, right? Nothing can be heard?” He lowered his chin.

  “Of course, I did. Checked it yesterday.” Ian sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be sure to check it again before we leave today.” Ian looked at his watch. “By the way, we better get going before we’re late.”

  Malaki also got out of his rubber chemistry garb, revealing his navy-blue suit underneath. He used a small mirror hanging on the bare wall and tugged his gray tie. “I hate these things. Especially when I just want to get on with what we’re doing. We’ve only been waiting years.” He patted down his unruly hair and smoothed out his trim beard. He pulled a small bottle of cologne out of a drawer and gave his neck a couple squirts. “Want some?” He held it out to Ian.

  “No, thanks.” Ian stood before the mirror, swiping his fingers through his hair, adjusted his tie, and smoothed out his gray suit coat. He slipped on his shiny, black shoes. “How do I look?”

  “Like you have big feet.” Malaki chuckled. “Now, let’s go get ’em.”

  “First, I’ll go check the camera, just to be on the safe side, so I’ll meet you over there.” Ian took another deep breath and lowered his eyes to the scanner. The door buzzed open, then he stepped out of their lab into a long hospital-like corridor. After walking fifty yards, he came to his destination.

  He leaned towards the entrance, and his eyes were scanned not once, but twice before the thick metal door slid open before him. It slammed shut the moment he walked through. Seeing nobody in the vicinity, he darted down a hallway to his left, approaching another thick, heavy metal door. Another eye scan and he found himself in a small room with about thirty screens—a window to every room in this part of the building. Ian quickly arrived to the screen of his and Malaki’s classified lab and tapped it. The settings popped up on the display. He entered the passcode and made sure the recording was set on “view-mode only.”

  He came here periodically to check even though he and Malaki were of such rank, they were rarely, if ever, questioned or mistrusted.

  He’d just signed out and was turning to leave when the door unlatched and a tall, blond man stepped inside the room.

  The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mr. Mitchell. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were going to be in here. Is everything all right. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Ian pushed his shoulders back and cleared his throat. “All’s well, Rankin. I was just coming to have a look-see, make sure everything’s working and in good order here.”

  “Yes, sir, and I hope everything is to your liking?” Theodore Rankin, the head of security in their building, straightened as if he were about to salute Ian, taking quick breaths, visibly nervous.

  “Everything looks fine. Well done.” Ian held his hand out, and Rankin shook it, his lips parting to speak but remaining mute.

  Ian released Rankin’s hand and left. He paused for a moment in the hallway and cast his eyes heavenward, his chest heaving in relief, and then headed toward the conference room.

  After Ian closed the last door in the lab department, he was back in a much more inviting atmosphere. The floors were carpeted. Paintings lined the walls, and tall, branching foliage and oversized chairs were situated in appealing clusters. Offices spread out along the hallway with doorways partially open, coworkers sitting inside at their desks, sipping coffee or talking on the phone. Several waved to Ian as he marched past.

  The end of the passage opened to the conference room, a large half-circle space. The walls housed a slew of windows overlooking downtown Washington D.C. Malaki stood inside, looking to be in a serious conversation with Reginald Wispan. Ian took another deep breath, letting it out slowly before stepping inside.

  “Mr. Mitchell, you’ve made it. So good to have you here.” Leah, Malaki’s executive assistant, appeared at his side like magic, clutching a digital tablet in her hand. Her brown hair came just above her shoulders, with a pair of glasses situated on her head. “Almost everyone’s here, sir, except for Melanie Brown and Richard Wiseman. I have your table set, and all of the tablets are situated at each person’s section. There’s coffee on the far end of the room or champagne should you opt for that. Lunch will be delivered at noon right on the dot from Luna Rosa Café.” She tapped her finger on the tablet. “You and Malaki did say you wanted Italian, correct?”

  A little late to be checking, Ian thought. “That’s correct, thank you.”

  Leah tapped her tablet once again. “Then that’s what it’ll be. N
oon. Like we scheduled.” She smiled at Ian, who nodded, and then he approached Malaki and Reginald.

  “Well, Mr. Mitchell, so good to see you. Both of you.” Reginald gave Ian a firm handshake. “I can’t tell you how I’ve looked forward to this gathering.”

  “Me as well.” Ian slid one hand in his pants pocket and scanned the room. Anders Graham and Phoebe Enfield stood not far from him chatting quietly. Already sitting at the table were Carter Soames and Wesley Sutton. These were the top CEO’s from electric companies all over the country. “Looks like we’re waiting for a couple more arrivals.” The clock above the door read 10:52 a.m. “Don’t want to start late, now, do we?”

  “No, we sure don’t.” Malaki tipped back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Say, Reginald, what’s the latest on Stanton. Last I heard, he wasn’t doing too well.”

  Ian gave Malaki a questioning look. What the devil was he bringing Stanton up for?

  “Same here. Last I spoke to his wife, his heart was not recovering from this latest attack.” Reginald pressed his lips together and shook his head. “It’s not looking too good.”

  “That’s terrible, just terrible.” Malaki eyed Ian, who could practically hear in Malaki’s voice that he was as torn as Ian over Stanton’s impending death.

  “Champagne, Mr. Mitchell?” A woman stood before Ian holding a tall glass of sparkling brew.

  “Thank you.” Ian immediately sipped it while the woman passed glasses to Malaki and Reginald.

  “Malaki, can I have a word, please?” Ian strolled towards the windows overlooking the city. He nursed his drink while Malaki finished with Reginald.

  Malaki marched towards him, smiling. “What is it?”

  “Don’t do it,” Ian whispered.

  Malaki took a step backwards and spoke in a flat voice. “I’m not doing anything, so just leave it.” He turned and strode back to Reginald who stood off waiting for him. “Where were we?”

  Ian attempted to relax his jaw and stared out the window for a distraction. Below was a grid of multi-lane traffic and sidewalks packed with pedestrians going to and fro about the upscale businesses and specialty stores. Lines formed at the colorful food trucks and street vendors.

  Ian couldn’t ignore the quickening of his own pulse at the thought of Stanton, his dear friend, not surviving this latest heart attack. If that happened, everything would be set in place—their moment to move forward. But the only way it could happen was if Stanton died, and how could he wish for his friend to die? It was wrong. Coldhearted. The possibility of that unhinged him and set his gut in a raging tailspin, and not in a fearful way. More like anticipation. The thrill of their collusion being a success, accomplishing what they’d originally set out to do—

  “There they are!” Malaki announced, and Ian spun around to see Richard Wiseman and Melanie Brown finally enter.

  Ian downed the last of his champagne and abandoned his glass to the windowsill. “Welcome, welcome. Nice to see you all again.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “We can begin so, please, gather around the table.”

  Everyone took their seats, murmuring quietly to each other, their chairs squeaking. Ian took his spot at the front with Malaki to the left of him and quickly sorted through his materials Leah had organized for him.

  “As you know, folks, we’re getting closer than ever to replacing regular electricity with our newest creation of renewable energy, memroth. What we’re discovering is, eventually—soon, we hope—one will be able to power their home for months at a time, depending upon the choice in size of memroth pods. So what we’re going to be discussing here today are the next steps in the process. There are a few of us who are beginning to test memroth already. We are using it in our cars and in our homes.

  “Let’s begin by turning your tablets on so you can take notes, then, please, fix your eyes to the screen”—Ian pointed to a large LED screen on the opposite wall—“where we’ll watch a demonstration. Mr. Malaki Pederson will take the meeting from there. Feel free to grab another drink, and then let’s get started. Our meeting should be finished by noon, and then we’ll have lunch delivered by Luna Rosa Café.”

  Most everyone rose to indulge in another champagne or coffee. In a few minutes, they had all resumed their seats and twisted to face the screen.

  Ian clicked play on the presentation, and all eyes focused in:

  Since the discovery of memroth over fifty years ago, the world has been preparing to propel in the area of electricity and power. With memroth and memroth pods, one will be able to provide power to their homes and vehicles.

  Memroth creates a much safer energy for home environment and is a vast improvement from electrical wirings, which is so easily threatened by severe weather. Lightning strikes? Strong winds? No problem. Memroth will have you covered. No more losing power for hours, days, weeks at a time!

  What about toxic, strong-smelling gasoline and its exhaust? Not with memroth powering our vehicles! Soon fossil fuels will become a thing of the past.

  It won’t be long before most families within the United States of America will be using memroth to power their lives. When the time comes, Renewalenergy, Inc. will be there, steering the way. All for the betterment of our planet and for the betterment of humankind. Will you join us?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Reathran

  Ian’s eyes flew open, and he gasped for air.

  “Welcome back.” The man with the long white ponytail handed him another cup of water. Ian gulped it as the man stood back and pressed his fingers on a few miniscule buttons on a leather band around his wrist.

  Grunting, Ian pushed upright, happy to note he could move again. He sat on the table and stared open-mouthed at his hands, examining them front and back. They were dry and pale, too thin. Like the rest of him. He massaged his thumbs against his fingertips, and then he rubbed his hands across his legs.

  He eyed the man, who fingered the leather band again and said, “Stand up. Face the screen.”

  On command, Ian’s body moved. Its own being, it jumped off the table. His legs trembled somewhat, but he stood alert and tall, his shoulders pushed back, his eyes staring straight ahead at the monstrous computer screen in front of him.

  Wren pushed buttons across it.

  “Take a deep breath.” Ponytail Man ordered.

  Ian complied, his mouth tasting like copper, as if he’d been sucking on a penny. He smacked his lips together.

  “Again,” the man repeated.

  Ian sucked in another deep breath.

  “You need to let this new air seep into your lungs, seep into your veins. It’s not like the air on Earth.” He dropped a pair of shoes on the floor in front of Ian. “Put these on.”

  Ian put the thin shoes on, but continued watching Wren, who had finished with the computer and held a small electronic tablet in his hand, studying it, touching it with his fingertips. Counters surrounded the table he’d lain on, their surfaces covered with what looked to be different pieces of medical equipment, computers and fans and a plethora of touchscreens.

  Ian’s mind was a blur, his memory skewed, thoughts of spacecraft and other planets and actually living on other planets was something he’d never heard of.

  “Pay attention.” The man scowled, placing his hands on his hips.

  Ian gave his head a clearing shake, then stared at the man. “How long have I been on this spacecraft?”

  “Going on ten days. This planet is just a couple days past the moon. The moon hides it, in fact, so it’s not possible to see Reathran from Earth.”

  “What?” Ian stiffened his posture. “What are you talking—”

  “Follow me now. We’re leaving the spacecraft, and I’m going to take you to your cell. You will be sharing a cell with two other men. One of those men is in charge and will inform you of your duties from here on out. You will fulfill the remainder of your death sentence here on Reathran. You no longer have control of yourself. The guards, which I am one of, now have complete and
total power over you. We have replaced eighty percent of your blood with Tetracaphoxin. This is a substance that has been developed on Earth over the past fifty years. It supplies all your body needs while on Reathran—you won’t need much food—but it also gives the guards control of you. You are not your own.

  “Any further explanation won’t make sense to you, so no talking. You do not have the right to know anyway. You now belong to Reathran and to us.” The man moved forward, and while Ian attempted to stop dead in his tracks to ask a million questions, he instead put one foot in front of the other, following the guard in front of him.

  “What—” Ian uttered.

  The guard came to an abrupt halt and whipped around. “Excuse me? What did you just say?” He pressed his fingers on the band around his wrist again and an invisible force washed over Ian, causing him to stand straight and hold his tongue.

  How is this happening? Ian tightened his fists, his fingernails biting into his palms. His chest tensed, and his stomach hardened as he tried to take his control back, but he could not, despite his focused effort.

  “I’m not sure how you were able to speak even one word just now,” the guard snapped. “Maybe the Tetracaphoxin is still too new to your veins, but that should not happen again. Now, let’s go.” He moved forward and stepped out the door of the ship.

  Ian followed, bending down, walking through the doorway of the spacecraft and onto Reathran’s graveled ground.

  Ahead the guard stopped and spoke to another tall man, who Ian assumed was also a guard as he had the same leather band on his wrist. While his feet froze to the ground, Ian turned his head to see the craft he’d just been in. It hovered inches above the ground, shaded, almost black in some spots, and resembled a jagged egg—the front end narrower and rounded in a rough way, growing larger toward the back. The rear of the spacecraft was flat with large thrusters, most likely for maneuvering purposes. A narrow, glass groove went down the middle of the craft, like a slice down the middle. A panel of windows, probably six to eight inches deep, covered the front of the craft. Those windows, plus the one down the middle, no doubt lit up spectacularly against a black night sky. From a distance, Ian imagined the craft looked like an asteroid with its uneven edges. Probably could never tell it was a spacecraft if you looked at it through a telescope.