"How?s she doing?"
?The fever broke? she?s resting now.?
"So she?s getting better then?"
"There?s no? getting better. She?ll never get better.?
?Then what?s going to happen??
?There?s just not getting worse.?
?And then??
?I?ll show you? it?s going to be cold so dress accordingly.?
================================================== ======
Longyearbyen, Svalbard, Norway
By the time Dov and I arrived at Longyearbyen?s airport it was nearly nightfall. We had gone from Rhy?din to Tel Aviv, Tel Aviv to Oslo, and Oslo to Svalbard, all via private charter in hopes of expediting the trip. He hadn?t believed me when I said it would be cold, but halfway between Norway?s northernmost mainland and the North Pole, even in April it was freezing. It had been raining when we left Rhydin but the skies were clear over Svalbard when we arrived. It was too cold for new snow but the existing snowpack meant deep drifts that swept high around the tiny community?s buildings.
?So this is it, huh?? Dov asked as we made our way through the little airport. It had a single runway and its hanger was frozen into the permafrost. Half the time it was inaccessible due to snow and ice, but we had lucked out in our timing. I had flown many a time but never were the flights as nerve wracking as they were to Longyear. Maybe it was the context, I don?t know. I shrugged my backpack up onto my shoulders a bit more and led Dov to where we would be meeting our escort.
?Almost,? I told him. We still had another hour or two to go, depending on if the weather held up. Two agents met us just before the exit. Identification was traded by all parties and once satisfied, they led us out to what I can only assume was Russia?s answer to navigating Siberia. The SUV for all intents and purposes was normal, a heavy body painted in glossy black, but its undercarriage had been modified and fitting with what looked like tank tracks. ?Well this is new.?
?Newly approved,? said one of the agents, his English heavily accented. He was smiling though, a boyish and almost charming thing that was easy on the eyes. I?ve forgotten his name already, but that face? Unforgettable.
?Boys and their toys,? I mused, prompting a chortle from Boyish Smile and a roll of eyes from Dov. He was always such a dud, why did I bother taking him anywhere? The other agent was behind the wheel, Blumenthal his name was. He was quiet, wrapped in black from head to toe so that only a swath of tanned skin could be seen in the gap between his knit hat and the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face.
?Is your companion familiar with protocol?? Boyish Smile asked. Dov and I traded glances before I gave the agent a nod.
?Extensively. Will we make it there this evening?? There wasn?t a cloud in the sky, definitely a good omen. It made the starry sky reflect pinprick twinkles between the drift ice in the fjord to my right. It became a blend of black and white, stark and colorless like much of the arctic landscape surrounding us.
?We should, barring any unforeseen roadblocks.? The heavy clickity-clack of the tracks that carried us through the snow served as reassurance that we were on our way, slow but steady. For an hour we progressed, cutting a deep path through drifts to the south of Longyearbyen until we reached a bend in the coastline, around which was a cleared helipad. Upon the asphalt square, a chopper sat primed and ready to go.
?Been awhile since I?ve taken a helicopter ride,? Dov remarked. We made sure we had our bags and there Blumenthal said goodbye. Boyish Smile on the other hand was intent on accompanying us to our final destination. It left little shoulder space on the bird, but the small talk was a nice distraction from where I was taking Dov. Forty-five minutes later we landed just outside of Grumant.
For all intents and purposes, Grumant had been abandoned for over fifty years. It had been a mining town once. Now it was home to what looked to be a pair of abandoned, crumbling houses, but more importantly to an underground labyrinth hidden from the world. The Institute had long since claimed it for its own with cooperation from the local government. Just how much money changed hands for such a thing, I?m not too sure. But long of the short, it was one of the most secure places in the world. No sooner were we out of the helicopter before we were ushered out of the icy wind and down a narrow spiral staircase that took us deep underground. There we passed through a thick metal door into the receiving area. Our bags were checked and we were forced to disarm before we could proceed. Dov was straight forward; two handguns, a knife, extra magazines. I unloaded three handguns, six magazines, and three knives, and still beeped when I went through the metal detector. Dov stood on the other side, an incredulous look on his face as I passed back through again. The shrill beeps called me back a few steps to face the unamused looks of the men tasked with running reception.
?Is that everything?? One man asked as I laid out the metal picks that had been hidden in my hair. I?d nearly forgotten about them until the pass of a wand lit up like a Menorah behind my head. With no lacking amount of sheepish annoyance, I patted myself down. My holsters were empty, my hair was down, my belt was off. What was I missing?
My shoes.
It?s always the shoes.
The chic snowboots were the pinnacle of fashion and function, laden with metal studs on the underside and concealed in the toes, a thin stiletto blade in each, engaged with the kick of a heel and press of a toe. I pulled each one off and extracted the blades from each, handing them over with reluctance. ?I better get those back on the way out.?
Here my threats held little heat. After all, some day this would be my home too. Flanked by two men on either side, Dov and I were escorted through another blast proof door, loaded onto a claustrophobia inducing railcar for a short, smooth ride further down into the labyrinth beneath us. My heart was pounding by the time we stepped off. Dov caught my elbow to steady me, a fact I?m quite grateful for.
I hate trains.
?Miss Cohen, we?d not expected you! It?s so good to see you.? Familiar as the voice was, I still cringed when I heard it behind me. Turning, I found a short, pale man in a white jacket and wire rimmed spectacles. He was mostly balding save for a horseshoe of greying hair around his skull. Doctor Nowak was pushing sixty and had been a part of Svalbard Project for nearly forty of those years.
?Truthfully I hadn?t expected to come? but it was necessary.? I told him, shrugging. I could feel Dov?s discomfort at my side or maybe he was merely mirroring mine. ?Olaf, this is Dov Friedman. Dov, this is Doctor Nowak. He?s in charge here.?
?Ah, yes. The Institute briefed me prior to your arrival. It?s nice to meet you.? The men shook hands and Dov gave me a furtive look. It was as if he couldn?t quite see just where we were going with things but after a moment, the doctor and our cadre of hangers on were soon leading the way down a sloping hallway lined with solid, sliding doors, each locked with a biometric pad sporting blaring red lights.
?Dov has been my right hand at our current posting for some time now. With? recent developments, I thought it pertinent that he understood just what we?re dealing with here.? I explained to Olaf as we walked, my strides long and swift but still paling in comparison to the towering monoliths at our sides.
?Yes? it?s easy to read it on paper, isn?t it? But it?s quite different to see it with your very own eyes.? Nowak agreed, turning a corner to bring us to the broad plate glass windows of what looked to be a wide observation chamber. The windows were just dark enough to tell me that anyone on the other side wouldn?t be able to see us even if we could see them. For now the chamber was empty. ?How is your sister??
?Stable. Very stable. No signs of degeneration or other cause for concern save for a brief temperature spike a few days ago. Just a cold, I think.? I told him. It was sort of true but I didn?t dare express my concerns to Nowak of all people. Inevitably he would find out the full truth but for now, protecting my sister was more important than being honest.
?I see. You?ll have to send them both my regards when you return. Where is it you?re posted currently?? He asked.
?I couldn?t say, sorry Doc.? My smile was apologetic. My tone wasn?t. He didn?t press the subject. ?Can we see Helena first??
?Mm, Helena? yes, we should be able to do that.? He depressed a button on a nearby panel and spoke into the receiver. ?Please bring H. Ehrlich to observation room three for standard battery, please??
Six minutes later, the doors within the chamber opened to permit three bodies. Two were clad in outfits made of thick grey canvas that covered them from throat to ankle. Between them, a thin brunette woman was held at her shoulders. They guided her further into the room, letting go only when the doors securely closed behind them. No more than thirty, the woman was sallow skinned and exhausted looking. Her eyes were hollow as they stared at the glass we stood behind. I think she knew we were there.
?Helena is one of our most promising residents. After reaching end stage degeneration, we?ve been successful in the furthest reversal to date.? As Olaf explained, mostly for Dov?s benefit, just what they had done, the pair inside the chamber ran the young woman through a series of cognitive tests. Dov spoke up a moment later.
?So how far of a reversal?? He asked. After I had told him there was no getting better for Eeva, I dreaded this very question. Setting my jaw, I waited for the doctor to respond.
?Nearly sixteen percent! It?s amazing.? Though Nowak sounded excited about it, I didn?t have it in me to match his enthusiasm. Dov cast a glance aside, one I met with a lift of my brows. See, told you so. There is no getting better, there?s only not getting worse.
?And this is best case so far? What does the worst case look like?? Dov asked. I was already cold but his question sent a chill through my blood. Tests concluded, they ushered Helena from the observation room under the watchful eyes of her doctors.
?Depends. Typically progression goes one of two ways. Violent or catatonic. In rare cases you may see both.? Despite the subject matter, Olaf spoke with a clinical detachment that I couldn?t help but marvel at.
?How is Hirsch?? I asked after a few moments. It must have been quiet because the two men kept talking as if I hadn?t said anything. Finally I cleared my throat and asked louder. ?How. Is. Hirsch??
?Miss Cohen??
?I want to see Hirsch. Please.? Insistent, I met his unsure gaze with steel. He swallowed hard enough to make his Adam?s apple bob then nodded twice.
?Very well. He?s on Sub-Six. Emile, take us there please.? Nervous, Olaf shuffled after the agent named Emile and reluctantly stepped into an elevator that would take us even further into the frozen earth. In passing, Dov squeezed my shoulder. It wasn?t a reassuring thing, not after hearing just where we were going.
?What?s on Sub-Six?? Dov asked on the ride down. Nowak stumbled over the answer so I supplied it.
?The worst case scenarios that you wanted to see.? I told him. ?Sub-Six is where those who can?t die go to spend the rest of their days, far below the surface, well away from anywhere they could hurt themselves or someone else.?
The rest of the ride was a stuffy sort of silence, a fact I almost regretted. Several stories down, it?s all sterile air and uncomfortable awkwardness. But Dov had asked and I promised him answers before we got here. The elevator stopped on Sub-Six where both Emile and Olaf had to press their hands to the biometric scanner before the doors would open. When they did, we were met by the muffled din of anguish, a violent cacophony of screaming and moaning and pounding.
?Welcome to Sub-Six.? I muttered darkly to Dov. He frowned and stuck closer to my side as if I could do something about the feral sounds assailing our ears. We were taken through two heavy steel doors and into the main corridor. The sounds got louder, punctuated often by metallic banging and pounding coming from the doors on either side of us. Next to each one, the occupant?s name was printed in black block handwriting on yellowing paper.
M. Strittmatter
E. Vahlen
I. Ludwig
B. Gegenbauer.
The list went on and on. I recognized many of them. Some were friends, some were foes, and in the end they all ended up down here. We came to a stop by a door labeled H. Ehrlich. Olaf entered a string of commands upon which a small six inch by six inch viewing window slid open. A thick piece of gorilla glass covered the opening, broken only by a line of tiny holes.
?Hirsch, we have visitors. Will you come say hello?? Olaf coaxed near the window without looking in. There was the shuffle of movement inside followed by a low groan. The doctor turned back to us. ?The sedative gas should keep him complacent for a short time if you wish to talk to him.?
For all of my adamant desire to see the man inside, I dreaded the thought of peeking in the window. I had known Hirsch for a very, very long time. To see him down here? it was hard to think about. Still I took a deep breath and stepped up to the window. ?Hirsch? it?s Evia Cohen.?
The sudden bang from inside startled me into taking two steps back. Dov caught me by the shoulders and kept me steady as I steeled my resolve and stepped up again. A rasp filtered through the pinprick holes in the glass. ?Ev...ee...a.?
?Yes, yes, it?s me, Hirsch. Can you hear me?? On my toes, I tried to look for him. Another thud followed by the dragging of shoulder to wall soon announced his upright arrival. He was gaunt, thin through the cheeks and dark beneath the eyes. His eyes, dark and wild, were unfocused as he tried to look at me through the glass.
?You came back?? He mumbled, his voice rough like gravel. His shoulder jerked with irritation. ?Helena. Where?s Helena??
?She?s okay. She?s good, Hirschy. It?s okay, it?s all going to be okay.? I said as soothingly as I could muster.
?What do you know about okay? you left us. You left us, Eeva.? He growled, banging a fist against the door beside the window.
?I?m here now. It?s okay. I just saw Helena, she says hello.? I mumbled near the holes.
?Liar! You lying bitch!? Spittle sprayed the window but thankfully didn?t make it through the little gaps in the glass. He trailed off into a slew of rapidfire German composed predominantly of the most vile insults he could come up with interspersed with what I could only surmise was jibberish. He punched the door again and let out a howl of anguish. ?Liar! LIAR! LIAR!?
Olaf closed the window. Inside, Hirsch?s hands and feet and forehead pounded against the walls and door as he trailed off into muffled screams and wails, almost animalistic in their pain. Only inches away from the closed window, I could feel the reverberations each time he hit the door until finally Dov tugged me away from it. He and the doctor had been talking but I didn?t make out much of what either of them had said.
?I think I?ve seen enough.? Dov said quietly. We were escorted the way we came, Hirsch?s screams echoing after us. Here and there he called my name, betrayal and venom filling each and every insult he slung. It wasn?t until we made it onto the elevator that I could finally block it out.
Dov says I was quiet all the way back up. He and Doctor Nowak spoke more on things but I don?t remember any of it. All I remember is being ushered back into the reception area where they gave me my weapons and bag back. I didn?t say a word until we landed in Tel Aviv, nearly catatonic in my barely concealed grief. Back at the Institute, we stood before the portal back to Rhydin.
?Ev? I just wanted to say I?m sorry?? He mumbled aside to me as they queued the gate to Rhydin?s frequency.
?What for?? I asked, numb, robotic.
?That they did those things to you and your sisters.? He answered. I couldn?t look at him. Instead I stepped up to the blue glow of the portal.
?I am too.?
