I Am Phantom Page 7

  “He wouldn’t come here,” I lied, more for their benefit than mine. “He has no reason to.”

  “Connections,” Matt said. “Police reports are all showing that the police are not searching anywhere within ten miles of the mental facility. Look here.”

  He turned his computer and showed us a messy screen of numbers, codes and fast streaming data. Just looking at it made my head hurt.

  “What is that?” I said.

  “It’s a live stream of data. All the cases, files, database entries, dates and patient information from the Queensbury police server, Monstaff and any other Justice department records. I have unrestricted access to it all.”

  “You can get that?”

  “I am capable of getting it, not, per se, allowed to,” Matt said with some cockiness.

  “Oh,” I said.

  Melanie rubbed her temples. “Matt…ohhh…don’t get me arrested. If you’re caught I had nothing to do with this.”

  “My hacking skills are unparalleled so you have nothing to worry about,” Matt said. “Anyway, the police apparently know something about Sykes that we don’t.”

  “How do you figure that?” Cody said.

  “Look at where they’re searching.”

  Cody glanced at me as though looking for confirmation. “Anywhere but Monstaff, right? The whole area surrounding it.”

  “Right. Why would they do that? It’s one man, on foot. How could he have gotten miles away so fast?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, hoping Matt wasn’t beginning to suspect Sykes was anything but a normal insane escaped criminal. “But Ryans seemed to know a lot about him. He knew where he was in Monstaff and already knew how dangerous he would be.”

  “I would expect him to,” Melanie said. “He’s the chief of police. It’s his job to keep up with all the killers going through his city.”

  We all got quiet except for Matt’s mouse clicking back and forth across the screen. I could imagine the police’s panic. I could imagine many of them had no real idea what was going on, just reports of a very dangerous escapee next to a school full of students.

  The guilt came again and clenched at my stomach so hard it was like I had eaten something rotten. I slowly stood and turned to Cody and Melanie.

  “Do you guys know where Rines street is?”

  I dressed in all black. Because that wouldn’t look suspicious at all. But I was already out the door and walking through the chilly, dark city streets before I could think too hard about it. I didn’t even bring a mask for my meeting with Sykes because what was the point? He already knew who I was.

  My plan was this: I didn’t have a plan. But if I did it would probably go something like this: find out what the crazy man had to say, deduce that he’s crazy and really doesn’t know anything about me, take down the crazy man before he could hurt anyone else. Simple.

  The last part of my genius plan scared me the most. I had never, not since…whatever powers I was developing started, met anybody that could match my speed and strength. There was a reason they called me a ghost, a phantom, in Bhutan. Sure if there were enough people surrounding me and they had guns I would probably have a little trouble. I had never had an issue one on one, though. But even the thought of trying to take down Sykes scared me. Did that mean he was telling the truth? He really was like me?

  Hopefully not.

  I found Rines street, where Sykes had told me to follow the sewer.

  Follow…the…sewer…That didn’t sound fun. The sound of trickling water came from beneath the curb I stood on. It was a storm drain. I looked around the rest of the street. There was nobody there. It was an already drizzly night and spotty, grim light didn’t make hanging around here any more appealing.

  I pried the manhole cover off and tossed it aside. A ridged ladder descended into the darkness, slick with rain water. I hoped.

  East was left, against the current. I climbed down and splashed into the water. My legs were soaked instantly. My breath grew shaky with the cold snap but I quickly started pushed east against the current. I would go until I reached something or finally came to my senses and crawled out.

  Other pipes leading from other streets spewed water into the main line I was in. The air, if it was possible, got colder, but at least I didn’t have to crouch as I trudged through the water.

  After what felt like forever, I checked my watch: eleven fifty. I groaned and kept moving. Even if I found whatever was at the end I might not be there by midnight and Sykes would be gone.

  And then I found it. Whatever it was.

  I stepped onto a concrete walkway next to the gushing stream of water and followed a ladder up to a hatch. I pushed the hatch open. It banged on the ground and echoed through…something.

  What was this place? It looked like I was inside a closet. I carefully checked outside the door.

  It was like the Lab. At least in appearances. Everything was at right angles, cut and chilling in its efficiency.

  I walked farther into the room. It was as big as the gymnasium at school, with gargantuan screens hanging near what must have been the front. Computers were lined like corn rows all the way to the other side. At the front, beneath the screens, sat any chemistry major’s dream. Test tubes were scattered everywhere. Four man-sized cylinders of liquid rested on a carousel. For some reason this section scared me the most. I didn’t want to leave exactly, but it didn’t make me feel at home either.

  And I didn’t think I would be discovered. Everything looked abandoned and covered in dust, like it was stuck in limbo.

  The screens, and even the test tubes, were the first things I went for. The same dread that repulsed me was also drawing me closer. Colorful liquid filled stacks of beakers. Some of the solutions had separated. How long had this place been untouched?

  “Eighteen years,” Sykes said behind me.

  Test tubes shattered as I knocked them over when I spun around to face him. He stood impassively behind the rows of computers. The sound of the tinkling glass slowly faded into the rest of the facility, however big it was.

  He had changed from the dead orderly’s uniform into faded jeans and a scruffy looking t-shirt with a leather jacket thrown on top. He looked like any typical city goer. I sickly wondered how many people he’d killed for his clothes. When he moved it was elegantly, but constantly shifting, his soulless eyes roving to every possible threat. He’d combed back his black hair, unveiling his viper-like face, poised and positioned to strike.

  “Eighteen years since I’ve been here,” Sykes said. He noticed me standing in a defensive posture.

  “I could have killed you just then. I didn’t, though. Show a little trust.”

  “You would have tried,” I said. “You wouldn’t have gotten far.” Sykes turned ever so slightly to his right then, faster than even I could register, the computer he stood behind hurtled towards me.

  It caught me in the shoulder. I slammed to the ground. Sykes stood above me when I looked up. He sneered and walked away from me.

  Okay. I believed him. I tried ignoring the rising panic in my throat. Taking him down was almost out of the picture. But he was a killer. I had to try.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “You brought yourself. That means you care enough to try to find out why.”

  “Are you going to answer my questions or talk nonsense?”

  Sykes paused at one of the human sized test tubes behind the table of beakers. His fingers made a small squeaking sound as he ran them gently down the glass.

  “Ever heard of something called Project Midnight, Drake?”

  Even the name sounded ominous. The very air around us seemed to breathe it in. It was something that shouldn’t have been said aloud; not here, not in this room.

  “No. Should I have?”

  Sykes smiled toothily. “You may want to learn. They are your past, present and future. They are who you are and who you will ever become.”

  He turned back to me like he was about to delive
r the punch line of a sick joke. “They’re the reason you’re going to end up just like me.”

  Liar.

  “I’m leaving,” I said. “You want to play games, fine. Leave me out of it.”

  “You’re already in it,” Sykes called to my retreating back.

  “I can’t wait until the police catch you. I’m going to tell them where you are.”

  “They can’t do anything to me.” Sykes paused. “You’ve waited eighteen years, Drake. What’s a little longer?”

  I stared at the ground. Finally, I looked back at him. “Hurry up.”

  “No man tells me what to do. Not anymore.”

  “Then make my visit worthwhile.”

  Sykes faced the screens. “Years ago this place housed a very special project entitled Project Midnight. Its goal was to make superhumans.”

  I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. “You mean superheroes. Kid’s stuff.”

  “Superhumans, Drake! Far superior than normal man in every way. Stronger, faster, smarter, with enhanced sense. Gods among men.

  “They succeeded.” His face darkened. “And they failed.” I wanted to scoff again. But the lab and the way Sykes looked made me think twice. Something told me he was being serious.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “The project never got the go ahead to test their serum on humans,” Sykes went on as though I hadn’t spoken. He seemed to be narrating to a crowd of ghosts around me, covering the entire room. “They tested the serum anyway. It worked. The man they tested on got everything they had hoped for. And everything they had feared.” At this he looked right through me. Anguish writhed on his features. “It drove the man insane.”

  I finally got it. “You. You were the first test.”

  Sykes waved a dismissive hand as if banishing the ghosts of the past on his shoulder. “What happened to me is history. It’s what’s going to happen to you that you should worry about.”

  Pieces had begun to fall into place. But I didn’t want to put them together. They must be wrong if Sykes and me…

  “The tests were cancelled after the failure. The program was officially shut down and the facility closed. But, like a sickness, the project returned in full force with private funding and a more vicious drive. They needed test subjects. And they found them. In four infants.”

  “No,” I said, but my voice wasn’t working very well. “You’re lying.”

  “The infants were selected for potential, the genes mapped and screened even before birth. They were injected without parental consent.”

  “I don’t want to hear this!” I yelled. “This has nothing to do with me!”

  Sykes slammed his fist into one of the machines. A faint hum like a swarm of approaching bees came from the corridors behind us. “You wanted the truth, Drake! Answers? They’re all here!” The large monitor lit up as a tray mechanically slid out and paused, as though waiting for something.

  Sykes pulled out a knife. I jumped back. Sykes laughed harshly. “Too scared to stand when the truth hits him in the face. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re not like me. But to find out…” The knife flashed. Sykes held his arm above the tray and dark red blood pooled on the glass. The machine’s tray retracted and suddenly the screen lit up with enlarged red blood cells.

  There was something very wrong with them. I’d seen pictures and videos in my science class of how normal red blood cells should look. These were nothing like it.

  For one they didn’t hold one round shape, but squirmed and pulsed and contracted larger and smaller, flattening and swelling again. And there were way too many of them. They crowded together as nearly one mass, shoving past each other in an endless swarm.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sykes said, marveling at the screen. “The underbelly of humanity’s dream. To be the pinnacle of everything, to conquer all man’s natural restrictions. To play God. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that?”

  For just a moment the anger directed towards who had created him vanished. Sykes continued looking at the screen, the light illuminating a mixture of revulsion and fascination.

  “You can’t prove I was one of those infants,” I said. Sykes seemed to remember I was still there.

  “No. But you know. The fact that you aren’t willing to try to find out what you really are disgusts me. It’s a gift!”

  I’d had it with his proclamations of projects that may—no, they couldn’t—have anything to do with me. If this answer meant having any similarities with Sykes then I wanted no part in it.

  I leapt over the table, forgetting how much I feared him, what he could do. Computers crashed, a trays toppled as I pummeled towards him and stopped just before his unconcerned figure.

  “Either this is a gift or it’s a curse. Pick one! But me? I’m not some freak science experiment by some freak project I’ve never heard of. I’m not like you, and I sure as hell won’t turn in to you.”

  Sykes hit the machine again and a new glass tray slid out next to my hand.

  “Prove it,” he said.

  “I don’t need to,” I said. “The world already knows you’re crazy. This is just another way you show it.” Sykes shrugged, put his hands behind his back and paced farther into the darkness of the rest of the room, out of the light of the screens.

  “You’ll want to know eventually.”

  “Yeah, right.” Why was I being so defensive? So angry? That burst of rage had been more surprising for me than Sykes, if he had even been surprised at all. It didn’t even matter. Everything Sykes said was obviously a lie, and I didn’t need some stupid test to prove that.

  But what if he was right? What if my future was walking, absolutely crazy, in front of me right now?

  It wasn’t. I wouldn’t let it.

  “Project Midnight kept records of the children they…involuntarily tested. When the time was right, if they showed true potential that their new serum wasn’t as disastrous as the first, they would collect them.”

  “See,” I said. “Nobody’s ever bothered me.”

  “They lost the records,” Sykes said. “A week after the serum was tested I destroyed them. I destroyed everything.”

  I looked around us. “Looks intact to me.”

  “This wasn’t where the records were kept. That part no longer exists.”

  I tensed. My earlier rage was returning, this time directed completely at Sykes. What small part of my brain may have accepted that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth, only grew more horrified the more he casually described the destruction he’d inflicted. He cared about none of it. Not the lives he may have taken, not the orderly at the mental hospital. Humanity was simply playthings he could break when he felt like it.

  And he could do it, too. They had made him so that he was better than everybody. Normal men couldn’t stop him. And he wanted them gone. Every action he did he made me hate him more, and hate more what I could become.

  “Only I memorized where the locations of where the kids were. Only I knew what to look for when the time was right.” Sykes said.

  “You couldn’t have been the only one who memorized them.”

  At this Sykes smiled. I mean truly smiled, like nothing in the world could have brought him more joy than what he was recalling in the past. “Oh, I’m absolutely sure I was the only one. I made sure they—what’s the phrase?—took it to their graves?”

  I lunged at him. To any normal man my ten-foot leap from a stand still would have thrown them off. Heck, I was even a little surprised.

  Sykes simply stepped back.

  Then the fight began.

  Sykes came in low and hit my stomach. If I hadn’t already been crouched in a stable tiger position I would have been thrown back.

  I swiped at his head. He ducked.

  “Another thing you won’t accept.” Sykes flipped back, tossing two computers at me. I knocked one aside and jumped the next. “We can quickly learn fighting styles. I see you know Kung-Fu. Ever wonder how you got so good at something
that takes a lifetime to master?”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak. All my energy was transformed into making him pay for those he hurt.

  I rolled beneath a desk and roundhouse kicked his side. He caught it and pushed me back but I bent backwards and kicked again, sending him flying.

  Of course he landed elegantly. Despite my best efforts he barely looked winded.

  “I’m not going to fight a blood brother,” he said.

  “We’re not the same!” I yelled. But after what we’d just done even I knew how stupid it was to deny it.

  Sykes started walking away from me. I could only watch as he vanished, leaving only the eerie screen light and the sound of my own panting.

  “Oh, and one other thing.” His voice was fading away. “Don’t trust police chief Ryans.”

  I was taken aback. What was that supposed mean? “Why? He’s more trustworthy than you. He’s the police. He’s authority.”

  “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t trust him.”

  Sykes left me with that. I stared at my hand and then at the open tray, waiting to collect my blood. I couldn’t stay here. Not in this place that held too many truths.

  I elbowed Cody in a spot near the ribs where Sonam had told me a nerve was located and he flipped up in his seat and slammed the back of his head into the person’s legs behind him.

  “Look who it is,” I said and pointed to the front of our political science class.

  Cody rubbed his eyes and looked.

  Police Chief Ryans stepped to the front of the room, taking his hat off as he walked. Our professor looked as surprised as we were at his arrival.

  “Uh, hello. This is—unexpected. How can I help you, Mr—”

  “Kenneth Ryans, Queensbury’s Chief of Police. I needed to speak to the students before returning to work.”