[Original Novel] Pressure 2: Dark Corners, Part 2

^{Previous parts: 1}

Rather than waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting, he instead shone a small penlight on the emblem and discovered it to be comprised of intricate, repetitious sentences which all read simply “The flesh and blood of innocence”. Over and over, looping back on itself, to create the larger image.

“Be silent, O all flesh, before the Lord, for he is raised up out of his holy habitation.” James bolted upright and became as still as possible, suddenly reminded of the other presence in the room. Did it really speak? Had he imagined it? Tense seconds passed. “Listen, I'm gonna get you some clothes, but then we're-” the pile resolved into a corpulent, hairy nude figure and turned to face James.

“When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: "Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.”

James felt transfixed by the figure's gaze. What little light came in through the hatch window cast the contours of his naked body in sharp relief, and also put a glint in the man's eyes that James had only seen before in wild animals. The man stood quietly, neither threatened nor provoked by James' presence, which he misinterpreted as an invitation to approach.

Before he felt the blow, he was flat on his face with the full weight of the prisoner atop him. Amatuer fuckup, he thought. Hardly the time to scold himself but it was a welcome alternative to terror. When it occurred to James that the man might've fashioned a shiv and could be moments away from using it, he set about feverishly planning how to flip the man off of his back and brain him with a baton to the temple. He wouldn't get the chance.

“The flesh and blood of innocence. The flesh and blood of innocence. May those who curse days curse that day, those who are ready to rouse Leviathan.” His breath was hot and moist in James' ear. “The flesh and blood of innocence. To kill them all would make me God.”

He sat for a while on James' back, breathing heavily, and when James tried to dislodge the man he offered no resistance. Simply rolled off and settled into a pile as before. However, the shaking wouldn't subside so easily. Even if he'd been armed it was doubtful that he could shoot the quivering blob, despite the close range. The shaking spread to his legs. There was a powerful, lingering feeling of violation.

James began dictating from memory to the inert mass of flesh before him that assault on a prison official was a federal offense, and detailing the punishment typical for that infraction, but gave up halfway in. Whatever possessed this man to attack him had since left his body, which now lay motionless on the cold damp floor of the cell.

“The fuck happened to you? You've got blood on your face. Did he getcha?” Cray doted on James, examining him for any signs of injury. An unexpected show of concern in light of what he'd said that morning. “I'm fine. He's demented, got the drop on me but the moment I fought back he went ragdoll. I think we're going to need a wheelchair”.

The two secured the cell door, then retrieved a hospital style folding wheelchair from storage. They found the man exactly as they left him, slumped against the far wall of the cell showing no signs of life save for respiration and a pulse. “It says he needs a helmet. Will this cut it?” Cray dangled a standard issue guard's helmet by the chinstrap. James shrugged. “Looks like a helmet to me. You put it on him.”

3:19pm. Impossible to believe, but only six minutes gone since the last time he looked. The day that refused to end. Rodney finally joined them at the security gate separating the isolation wing from admissions. “Heard you got jumped”. He was visibly amused, but straightened out when Cray spoke. “Don't start nothing, Rod. We've got another hour packed together in the sub from here to the Tartarus, gonna be close quarters in there.”

James' ears perked up at the name, but between the security gate and the docking terminal he'd lost interest. Just vague recollections of the word Tartarus, nothing he could pin down, he was too exhausted from the fight to care.

The outer hull came into view as they crossed C deck, always a startling sight owing mainly to the two enormous borosilicate glass domes looking out into the black abyss. They resembled bulging eyes and served a similar purpose, the station's analogue to air traffic control towers.

From these twin vantage points, subs were either directed to vacant docking collars or authorized for departure. There was literally nothing else to see. The ocean beyond was a featureless black panorama against which the occasional sub, illuminated by exterior lights, stood out with absolute contrast. Like watching cargo capsules docking to one of the space stations, save for the absence of stars.

“You okay in there? Nod or something”. With the gag, blindfold and helmet in place it was difficult to be sure. “He's still breathing. It's all good”. Cray glared. “What? We only gotta deliver him alive. Anything else is extra”. Today, none of Rod's antics were bothersome.

Could be acclimation, though doubtful. James didn't want to believe it was the depression. He was never one for drugs and struggled to accept that a man's fundamental personality could be changed by neurochemical means. That seemed like vanity now.

All three sat shoulder to shoulder in the spherical cockpit of the transport sub. A second, independent pressure sphere just behind theirs held the human cargo. This special configuration could only be deployed by airlock, which ate up around fifteen minutes as the chamber flooded around their craft, then painstakingly equalized. “Is it supposed to creak like that?” Rod's usual routine never took him outside the station and for once he was showing some vulnerability.

“Relax, it's normal. The dual hulls are designed to flex as the pressure increases. We just went from 14 pounds per square inch to seven thousand in about the time it takes you to download a brownload.” Rod snorted, and the two continued trading off-color jokes while James compressed himself against the bulkhead. It was enough to quietly endure it so long as it ate up time.

“The field by itself was amazing, but a few nights in I started to pick up on signs of someone else.” Olivia shifted in her seat, as much for comfort as to signify interest. “Lisa?” She was perceptive, he liked that about her but it made it difficult to conceal anything. “I didn’t know until recently. It was coy. I’d see her silhouette through some leaves, or glimpse her running down a hallway but never manage to catch her.”

She jotted something down. He suspected that was a magician’s trick, to keep the patient in a clinical mindset. If he tore the pad from her hands to examine what she’d written it would probably be covered in doodles.

“When you say that it was coy, who do you mean by “it”?” That was unexpected. He’d phrased it that way without a second thought. “I guess....whoever prepared this place for me, and teases me with thoughts of Lisa.” He choked on the end of the sentence, realizing too late that he’d given it all away.

“So it is Lisa in the dream.” It was too late now to recant, but too awkward to continue. “M...maybe. I think so. Listen, don’t assume from this that I still feel anything towards her. I used to have a recurring dream about piloting a robotic eagle. Doesn’t mean I was in love with it.”

She laughed, more for his sake than her own. “I didn’t say anything. I’m not here to editorialize, just to listen. But I’m curious about something. What will you do in the next dream, if I let you catch me?”

James took a moment to absorb the sentence, then froze. He turned to look at Olivia, very slowly, in fear that she’d vanish at the last moment. As he did so the walls crumbled around them, giving way to the familiar field of sunflowers. Still Olivia’s suit....but Lisa’s face. It radiated sunlight, enveloping him in a feeling of warmth and security. “Lisa....” The light intensified. “Shhh. You’re dreaming”.

“There we go. Fuck’s sake, stop prodding him, he’s up.” Rod shifted forward in his seat as James struggled to orient himself. “While you were sleeping on company time, the rest of us were working for a living.”

This sub had more mass to it than the single seaters he was used to, didn’t jostle with the currents as much. No wonder he’d slept through the trip. Cray reached up to toggle a series of switches. “Can it, Rod. We’re on final approach”.

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 3!}