From Hollow Into Light
Chapter One: Waiting
The wind took the cigarette butt and rolled it around the frozen drifts of snow. A solitary figure stood amid the blowing snow and flipped up the collar of her well-worn vintage leather jacket. Blowing the last mouthful of smoke to the whirling maelstrom of snow and ash, she looked at her watch.
"Shit."
She had been waiting for her contact for twenty-five minutes, all the while watching the freak April snow storm build from teasing arctic blasts through her inadequate jacket to the gusting knives of ice that froze her disgusted look in place. Her boyfriend Jack, who had incidentally offered to hang around until her contact arrived, had dropped her off. She shivered again, "I'd take a ride from Hitler himself right about now," she thought to herself, trying to thaw out her rigid fingers.
She looked down the road, the snow obscuring any chance for seeing long-distance, but in this weather, a car with its lights on could be seen from a reasonable ways away. It wasn't like there was anything else to mistake for a vehicle; the roads in this particular part of British Columbia were devoid of much in the way of housing or business. The only directions she'd even been given were simple: Highway marker 47. So here she stood, another highway marker. She was just starting to hitchhike back to town when the headlights of a car were emerging from the snowy void. She began waving madly, glad for the opportunity to generate heat. The car flashed its lights, then slowed down. The black hide reflected the snowy skies around them in cold relief. She saw her own reflection in the dark window that came to a halt inches in front of her. She took a step back as the window moved, replaced by the dark interior of the car.
"Drax?" a voice asked from within.
"Who the hell else would be standing out in the middle of nowhere, let me in and let's get this over with." The door opened and she pushed the nearest occupant deeper into the dark interior, "Stand aside," she growled. The door closed behind her, sealing her inside the black shell, and the car silently moved on.
She blinked a few times to thaw her eyeballs, then turned to face her contact, who was supposedly her contact for the big break she had been waiting for.
Gabriel DuMont was not someone you would notice in a crowded bar or even someone you would take the time to smile at on the street. When he had first tried to approach Isobel Drax on the street she had ignored him. She hadn't meant to be rude. In a small town like Burns Lake, if you were rude to the wrong person, you might find there were fewer people willing to advertise in your newspaper next week. She had simply not realized he was there.
An unassuming man of small build and a dishwater face, his timid voice was not one that commanded attention. And yet here was the man who would show Isobel the chinks in the armor of the Tiamat Chemical Corporation, Western Division. Her first big break after seven dry years of reporting bowling scores, pet care tips and critiquing the local high school play.
Thrilling as this prospect was to her, Isobel was of two minds in this case. One big mind was drooling over the chance she had been handed to finally do some hard news. The dollar signs were all over a project like this. She could write her own ticket out of this northern one-horse town.
A much smaller mind was reminding her that Tiamat had been the major employer in Burns Lake for several years and that an expose would consign a large portion of the town to unemployment for an indefinite period of time. No heroes' welcome there, you could be certain. 'Still,' the bigger mind chimed in, 'you wouldn't be around to worry about it, would you?'
She removed a black hardcover notebook and the pen that she held in highest esteem. To date, it had never run out, gone blotchy, or exploded. She fixed Mr. DuMont with a searching gaze and flipped to the first empty page.
As he spoke, her eyes went from a carefully hidden anxious sparkle to a barely concealed disgust…and it didn't have anything to do with professional misconduct on the part of Tiamat Chemical. When he had finished his story, Isobel closed her still-empty page with an echoing snap. "Mr. DuMont," she began, trying to sound like the professional journalist she was, "This is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard."
'Hey,' she thought to herself, 'I tried.'
At DuMont's dumbstruck gaze, she went on, "You drag me out into the middle of nowhere and leave me waiting in the bitter cold - to tell me some pile of garbage about mutants. I've got two words for you pal - yesterday's news! They arrested the one responsible for the Statue of Liberty thing six months go. No one cares anymore…" She looked out the window, they were coming back into town. "You ca let me off at my office, I've got to find something else for my headlines, something exciting like - " she turned back to fire a parting shot at DuMont and ironically found herself staring down the muzzle of a small handgun.
Small or no - it was an unpleasant sensation, nevertheless.
"I - I'm sorry to have to resort to this, Ms. Drax, but you leave me no choice. You must believe me, there is something suspicious going on at Tiamat. I have risked my life to bring you this information and I am afraid I cannot possibly let you go without first securing a promise that you will look further into this," he hesitated, " And if something should happen to me, that you will publish your findings."
Isobel began to sweat, despite the sudden drop in temperature in the car, "O-Okay, sure, I promise that first thing in the morning I will head over to Tiamat and see what I can find out - alright? Satisfied?" She held her breath while DuMont considered this. Finally, the muzzle was lowered and, as if exhausted by this effort, DuMont sighed heavily.
Isobel relaxed and sniffed, "You're telling me - let me out here," she commanded the driver. The black car pulled over and without a word of farewell, Isobel ripped the door open and bolted out, slamming the door shut. She watched as the sleek dark shape silently moved away, until it was completely obscured by the swirling winter winds. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath to relax her tense muscles, flipped up the collar of her jacket, and walked up the street to her newspaper.
It was a short walk from where she'd been dropped off to the small basement that served as her office in the newspaper's building. She found that, try as she might; she was not warming up, even after her brisk walk. A chill had sunk into her bones that she could not shake. Her hand trembled as she opened the door to her office, then froze. The pungent scent of menthol cigarettes wafted into the hallway, and she knew she was not alone.
Isobel pushed the door open cautiously, letting it swing out fully before stepping into the doorway. Her heart was beating a frantic staccato against her rib cage. Her hands now itched for something heavy and sturdy to defend herself with. She found herself wishing she had never agreed to meet Gabriel DuMont. She also found her adventurous side dying to make a little side trip this afternoon to Tiamat Chemical. She took a step into her office and a first glance saw nothing out the ordinary. A few more steps in and a slight movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn sharply. A young woman sat on a battered wooden chair that had seen better days. The cigarette she held in one hand snowed grey ash onto the worn brown carpet. The smoke whirled upward into the air vent, rolling along the ceiling lazily. She stood, butted out her cigarette in Isobel's heaping ashtray, and extended her hand. "Ms. Drax," the blonde woman said, "I've been waiting for you. I believe I can help you."
Isobel froze, one hand on the doorframe, the other still securely holding the doorknob. She was speechless, 'Sensory overload,' she thought to herself. 'Nothing happens to me in this town in seven years and within ten minutes I've lost the scoop of my life, had my life threatened, and now I have a tall blonde stranger waiting for me in my office like a scene out of a film noir.' Shaking her head at the rather bizarre turn of events the day was taking, she stepped into her office, leaving the door open. She gestured to the chair her visitor was occupying quite comfortably.
"Make yourself comfortable," she remarked dryly, with a bare smile on her lips. She slid into her creaky antiquated office chair and lit a cigarette. She leaned back, planted her boots on the ingrained heel dents on the surface of her desk and exhaled smoothly.
They eyed each other silently, Isobel wasn't even sure what she was looking for, there was just something telling her not to flinch. Finally, as if satisfied with something, her visitor spoke again.
"I understand you want to do a story on Tiamat Chemical."
Isobel almost choked on the mouthful of smoke she had been in the process of inhaling. The boots were unceremoniously hauled off of the desk as Isobel stood, choking on a lungful of carbon monoxide. She turned to her corner bar fridge and reached for a bottle of water. Her shoulders were still jerking spastically as fits of coughing racked her body. She ripped the cap off and took the contents in one pull. A loud sigh escaped her lips as she lowered the bottle and glowered at this now unwelcome intruder.
The blonde stranger took a much quieter drag on her own cigarette and exhaled, the smoke hanging thick by the tiny basement window. A dim ray of light penetrated the smoky dungeon, catching the visitor in the eyes. Isobel was surprised to see a glint of amber sparkle from them.
'What an unusual colour…'