The Burnsfield Project

Chapter 6

Beeeeeeep.  "I need to see Debra."  Mills speaks to the beep.  I assume he had a button to push or there was some sort of sensor that activated the beep.  I hear the starting of something electrical, a motor or something of the sort.

Instant butterflies now.  The hood has enhanced my sense of nervousness but also my sense of feel.  We are going down…on an elevator.  "Ahh, an underground lair, huh?  Is this some sort of super hero league hideout?  Sweet!"  I was being as sarcastic as I could be; I just wanted to be personally addressed right now by anyone.

This elevator was traveling down forever, or so it seemed.  I've been on elevators that have traveled fifty floors in about three minutes; we've been moving for at least five minutes.  The elevator begins to apply its brakes, slowly.  We come to a complete stop and nothing happens.  Where's the sound of the door opening?  Where's the beeeeeep noise?  What's happening?

Suddenly, the intercom activates, "Debra will see you know Captain Mills."

Captain?  Captain of what?  He fucking shot me with a bean bag from an assault rifle for not getting dressed fast enough.  The elevator door opens and all four men step out.  One of them clips the zip tie holding the hood down. 

For whatever reason, I didn't go for the hood right away.  I slowly tip toes my way to the front of the elevator, to the point that I could feel the difference between the elevator floor and the actual floor.  Once I cleared the elevator, the doors close and it sits stationary, waiting for more buttonized orders.

What the fuck do I do now?  What the hell is going on?  Why do I still have this hood on?  "Hello?  Is anybody there?"  I must have looked and sounded like a little white test rat.  Of course, there is no response. 

The room or building or wherever the hell I am, is drop dead silent.  I'm not sure what to do next, do I take the hood off, why wouldn't I take the hood off?  Do I call out Hello again?

"Fuck it." I mumble to myself as I slowly pull the hood off of my head.  The fabric is very abrasive now that I can focus on it, it'll be off soon.  I give it one final tug, the hood is off but I am still in darkness.  Ok, I kept my eyes closed because I am certain I don't want to see where I am.  I want to have one last chance to turn around get on the elevator and leave without seeing anything, that way Mills wouldn't have to kill me.

I turn and face the elevator, open my eyes and all I see is dry wall.  No seam, no crack, no separation for it to open and reveal an elevator.  I run my hand up and down on the wall, nothing. 

Now this shit is getting weird.  I turn around again and face the room.  I'm in a large white room with six rectangle tables and thirty to forty white rolling chairs.  The walls are white, the tables are white, the chairs are white, shit even the light fixtures are white.  The floor, it's white, looks like laminate tile.  The ceiling, it's white too, solid not those push up tiles like you see in every modern office building. 

"Mills?  Debra?  Hello?  What am I supposed to do?  Come on people, what do you want from me?"  My internal anxiety is now transforming into external anger.  I am now running on the assumption that this is all a dream.  Holly is a dream, the four men that came to my apartment are a dream, the elevator I was just on is obviously a dream.  All I need to do is wake up.       

I hear a speaker activate, that slight white noise before the actual noise comes out is very apparent to me, "Lieutenant!  Compose yourself."  The voice sounds very familiar to me but it wasn't the same voice Mills was talking to.  "I need you to calm yourself, walk the thirty-four steps to the other side of the room and turn ninety degrees to your right.  You will then walk eighteen steps to the wall directly in front of you.  Then wait.  Clear?" It was more of a "CLEAR!" instead of actually asking me if I understood.

"Yes ma'am."  I'm not one to disagree with a voice coming from nowhere.  I very carefully but casually count off each step in my head.  I walked all thirty-four steps as I slowly traveled across the middle of the room.  I then turn to my right and counted off the eighteen steps as instructed.  Now I am nose deep in a wall, "What's next Beautiful?"  She might be hot right?

The speaker activates again, "Focus Lieutenant and do exactly as instructed.  If you do so, you'll be just fine. Don't question my next instruction or any of my future instructions. Clear?"

I yell out, "Clear, but I need to ask you a question."

"You may proceed, make it a good one."  I could hear a smile on her face, I swear.

"What's your name?  You already know mine and you can see me obviously, just tell me your name."  I was beginning to realize they want me here, they see me as a person instead of a fucking joke. 

I hear the speaker activate yet again but this time there is a slight hesitation, "You'll know it when you see me."  What?  How the fuck will I know her name when I see her?  Is it tattooed on her forehead or is she some long lost sister that has a HUGE nametag on her desk?            

I announce loudly, "Yes ma'am.  What are my directions?"

"Lieutenant, I need you to take three steps forward, don't question me, don't doubt me.  Take three steps forward and follow the white line on the floor."  Her voice was so convincing that even though I know that she knows I'm standing facing a wall.

"Three steps, huh?  Ok, you're the boss."  I smile and place my hands out in front of me as I take my first step, then my second and now my third.  There is no smile now, my face dropped in amazement as I realize I just walked through a wall.  I walked through a fucking wall, am I am X-Man or something?  I walked through a WALL!

I am speechless at this very moment, this is a book about cops and people and what not but I just walked through a wall.  This is officially getting weird.

I am now surrounded by metallic structures, like I'm in the back of a bowling alley.  It's just a straight hallway, very dark but I can still pick up the white line on the ground.  The machines are silent and still, on my left and my right.  I walk the white line as if I were being forced to perform a field sobriety test. 

Ka-shink, Ka-shink.  One of the machines has turned itself on.  I turn my head back and I see the very first set of machines I passed when I enter the wall have lit up with a green light.  Each machine is, not to sound dramatic, launching a spear like object to the other machine. 

What the fuck is going on?  I stayed on the white line like I was told; I walked through the wall like I was told.  What is happening?  I have stumbled passed the second set of machines.  The same process occurs.  I turn about face and focus on the white line while these two sets of machines toss death spears back and forth.         

I begin to walk again, trying to act casual.  The third machine activates as soon as I exit its path.  I'm so startled at this point, I take off running.  I figured I could beat the sensors that are activating these killing devices.

Well, the woman said walk didn't she?  I am running and running, staying on the white line, activating each mechanism as I speed passed.  There is a glass door at the end of this, I can see it now.  I run a touch faster.  Suddenly, 15 feet in front of me, a large loud angry flame is expelled from the ceiling targeting my face.

I hit the brakes and then hit the deck.  The flame is roaring just inches from my head as it passes over me.  I'm on my back, flame over my head, machines tossing spears back and forth and a glass door just fifteen feet away now.  I slowly slide my body towards that door. 

Once I'm about two feet away from the flame, it deactivates with a loud hiss.  I stand on my very shaky legs, wipe my brow and walk as normally as possible, carefully staying on the white line as instructed.  As I approach the glass door I notice a camera above it.  A black bubble just resting above the glass door peering into the death zone I just got through. 

The door clicks for three seconds; I push and enter the next area.  The white line has disappeared but has been replaced with a direct left turn.  I take two steps and then the speaker crackles to life, "Wow Lieutenant, that was…impressive.  Please stand right where you are and await an escort."  I could hear the slight chuckling in her voice.

I hear guards enter the room from the other side.  They are shouting and it sounded as if they were getting physical with people.  "Jeffy, Duke, Oakland let's go, in your rooms, now!"  That's Mills voice. 

Mills approaches with very authoritative steps and grabs me, walks me through this area very quickly.  I only get glimpses but I peer into each room.  There are three occupants in three separate rooms.  Each appeared very familiar to me but Mills was pulling me so fast that my brain couldn't register; I couldn't put names to the faces.

Mills explains, "That was the general housing area for our…agents." We are now entering another room, like a doctor's waiting room but even less comfortable.  Mills points to a chair along the wall, "Sit here Lieutenant.  Sit and await further instruction."

I take my seat, sweat dripping from my hair line, my clothes dirty and tattered from my adventure through the dead zone.  My brain running circles around my head, trying to figure out what type of agents those were, why there needs to be a dead zone and I was still stuck on that fucking wall thing. 

Now that I think about it, this room looks more like a lawyer's office.  One desk with a comfy black leather chair, two chairs along the wall in front of the desk and certificates and degrees on the wall.  There's a bookshelf to my left, I'm not much of a reader unless there are pictures involved but I get stand up and go over to it anyways. 

The top shelf is all Stephen King Hardback novels.  The next shelf is full of John Grisham, the next filled with Patterson.  The bottom, however, contained what seemed to be hundreds of journals.  I grab the very top one and open it up.  It's got drawings in it; I flip through and see drawings of suicides, decapitations, old ladies being strangled, people being eaten.  What the fuck?

The door opens and I place the journal back on the shelf as Mills enters the room again.  "Mills, what's going on man?  Please tell me what is happening here.  Come on, please."  I pleaded with Mills to at least give me warning of what was coming next.  He remained silent but I could see on his face that he could empathize with me.

I freely walk with Mills into yet another hallway.  This one was lit well and carpeted with some brownish yellow tint to it.  There are pictures of all the former President's of the United States on the walls. The odd numbered ones on my right and the even numbered ones on my left.  Every fifth or so picture there was a door on both sides of the hall way, no name tags, no identifiers of any sort.  Mills gets me all the way to George W. Bush Senior and we stop at the door on the right. 

Mills pulls a card from his right front pocket and swipes it, like a hotel room key.  We both enter the room, Mills and then me.  As soon as Mills clears my line of sight, I see a man strapped down to a chair with the same style hood over his head as I wore earlier.  His wrist and ankles are bleeding excessively, he's been struggling. 

The man sits in this hard wooden chair only in a pair of boxers and the hood.  His head is hanging low; he's slumped over as if he were sleeping or dead.  I turn to Mills, "What are we doing here, what is he doing here?"

Mills doesn't speak; he walks over to the unconscious, clips his zip tie and removes the hood from his head.  Mills looks up at me and smiles, "Look familiar?"