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“They’ll be waiting for us,” Justice says, as I hesitate. It’s not precisely what I want to hear or the impetus to get me moving, but curiosity wins out and I put my foot down. Like Jonah and the whale, I am going in.
The road curves this way and that before the foliage parts to reveal what looks like an old factory. Yellow-beige paint no doubt absolutely dripping with lead is peeling from the concrete walls. The entrance is beneath a large semicircular portico ringed with old steel. I can imagine this was once a very impressive facility. Now it is clearly in a state of decay. I can smell rot, or something like it. Something earthy and insect-y, like freshly turned rotting mulch.
“Let’s get out,” he says. “We’re here.”
I don’t want to get out of the truck. I feel more than a little trepidation. This place is deeply creepy. I have a keen sense of being watched by many, many eyes. Given the creatures who live here, that could mean one or two, or anywhere up to half a dozen cryptid mutants.
I glance over at Justice.
“Why don’t you go in and see them, unload the cargo. I’ll take the truck back to Hank.”
“We didn’t just come to deliver Rage,” he reminds me. “We’re here because I want to show you where I came from.”
When he puts it like that, it seems churlish to refuse a home tour. It is the desire not to be rude or insensitive that gets me out of the truck, emotional pressure of the kind I rarely succumb to. I have a weird tingling feeling in my lower stomach. I write that off to nerves, though. I know there are others like Justice here. I am standing on the precipice of something truly secret and odd. This is where creatures of myth and legend were made. This is where the world stopped making sense. The sensation grows. I feel a little nauseous.
Justice reaches out and takes my hand in his lower right hand. His upper right hand settles lightly, but firmly on the back of my neck. I am not sure if his touch is commanding or comforting. It might be both.
I am propelled toward glass doors which have been immaculately cleaned. No fly dirt or spider webs mar the hinges of this entrance. As we enter, the interior of the building reminds me a lot of the interior of his shipping container house, except it is larger.
The 1940’s and 50’s have been preserved here in complete detail. Nothing has been replaced or upgraded. Everything is as it was. The effect is of walking into an entirely different world, complete with alternative color palette. Teal formica is everywhere, as are rounded corners and smooth metal finishes. We walk into a lobby of sorts, or something like a waiting room. The beige linoleum has been mopped recently, and not a speck of dust has accumulated anywhere, but the place is empty.
“Where is everyone? I thought you said they were waiting for us?”
“Do you really want to meet everyone?”
I’m taken somewhat aback by that question. Of course I want to meet his family. I am nervous as fuck, but I am also curious. I am in the center of a mystery, perhaps even a conspiracy that I’ve never heard of before. This is the sort of thing a detective dreams of. I became a member of the force to serve and protect, of course, but I also always had an irrepressible urge to ferret the truth out, to know what others didn’t know. Mystery has always drawn me, and I am standing in the faintly bleach smelling center of what might be the biggest and best-kept secret of the modern age.
“Of course I do.”
“Let me give you an orientation before we do any introductions. I want you to understand some of the details of this place. It will save you from having to ask some of the many questions you will no doubt have, detective.”
“Alright.”
He leads me to a wall in the lobby where there are black and white portraits of three old men hanging.
“These are Maclyn McCarty, Oswald Avery, and Colin MacLeod. These were the men who discovered the very nature of DNA. Our father was a research assistant in their laboratory, a man of little means, but great ambitions. He wanted not only to create new life, but to save it.”
I nod, as Justice seems to expect some kind of response to that.
“That discovery was officially made one year before the end of the Second World War, in 1944, but of course the research had taken place years prior to the public announcement. Our father brought peace to the world through a savant’s understanding of this work. He understood more than they ever shared, and the work he did here changed the course of history.”
“What was his name? Why are they here but not him?”
“Some people prefer their names be lost to history.”
“Why did he make you? And those like you? There’s no way you were ever going to fit in with everyday society. Especially not then.”
“We were not designed to be freaks. We were designed to be soldiers, with traits common to some insects and other creatures that allow them to withstand some of the cruel chemical conditions humans began to inflict upon one another. Many of our older brothers and sisters were sacrificed to end the conflict.”
“I thought atomic weapons were used against civilians to end the war.”
“Yes. There were many monstrous undertakings. The atomic bomb could not be hidden from the world. Other secrets were better kept. Like us. To this day, our mission is to protect people. We function as guardians of humanity, as and where we can. What Rage did was a complete perversion of his purpose, not to mention all we were raised to believe in. He was like a sheep dog who turned on his flock. His death was inevitable.”
“So your family won’t be angry at me for killing him?”
“My family sent me to bring him back in the state he is in. They do not need to know the specifics of what happened. You do not need to take the blame.”
“So they won’t know why I am here. I’m just your side piece.”
