The drive took longer than expected. Brad felt like he spent hours sitting in the backseat of the jeep with Vertigo, with nothing but trees and stones passing by on the outside. Just when he thought the trip would never end, a gate appeared in the middle of a broad forest track. Two large metal door leafs blocked the way. To the right and left meter-high wire mesh disappeared into the forest. The upper end was secured with additional barbed wire. To the outside and to the inside, as Brad noticed.
The guard at the gate stopped them and received some papers from the driver of the car. Suddenly a telephone rang. The guard asked the driver to wait and went to pick up the phone in a small house next to the gate.
Vertigo cracked his knuckles. "If you want something done right..."
The massive man got out of the car and before the driver could stop him, Brad had jumped out of the door behind him.
The guard was still busy talking on the phone, but when he noticed who had gotten out of the car, he quickly ended the call.
"C-Commander," he stuttered, "I did not know you..."
"Instead of chatting with your mother during duty, do your fucking job," Vertigo growled. "Open the gate now."
"I-immediately, Commander. All I have to do is ... "The guard leafed through the pages and then stopped. He peered up from the sheets to take a look at Brad and then back to the folder in his hands.
"Commander, there must be a mistake here."
"What kind of mistake?"
"It says, you bring a Precog. But the boy ... "
"Is a Precog," Vertigo confirmed, smiling like a father would smile while pulling his belt to give his offspring a proper beating.
"Th-Then everything is fine."
The man escaped into his guardhouse and gave a signal. The gate wings swung to the side and a sandy forecourt with several buildings came into view.
"Come on, let's go," Vertigo growled, pushing Brad back into the car.
They passed the gate, that immediately closed behind them.
Brad had expected that they would head for one of the white painted buildings, but Vertigo gave the driver the order to drive to the "bunker".
"I want to introduce you to someone," he told Brad. "She will be amazed."
The car rolled down a wide unpaved road. Between the trees, a wide scree area appeared, that dropped off on a rugged edge. As the car drove on a steep cliff emerged. It showed traces of opencast mining. An old quarry.
The trip ended on a large clay court at the foot of the slope. Brad saw another large building and several wooden barracks in the adjacent woods. However, he had no time to take a closer look, as Vertigo pushed him straight to the quarry. Brad did not notice the door, which was integrated into the rock face like painted until they stood right in front of the stony wall. Vertigo pressed a hidden switch and they went inside.
Brad had expected a dark cave, but instead he entered a brightly lit lobby.
"What the ...?"
He was cut off by a warning signal and several alarmed calls. In between there were loud shrieks that approached them quickly. Seconds later, a small, female figure turned around a corner. The girl was short and ran as fast as she could with her bare feet making slapping sounds on the polished stone floor. She screamed as if the devil was right on her heels. Behind her, the shadows of her pursuers covered the wall.
Brad acted on instinct. He jumped forward and grabbed the girl, She was eight or maybe nine years old. White-blond hair fell down to her shoulders and her eyes were wide open. Huge, amber-colored lakes seemed to stare right into his soul. He felt her heart beat against her chest. She twisted in his arms, tried to pull free, but Brad held her tight.
"I will not hurt you, but you have to stop screaming. Stop screaming!"
Her wailing slowly faded until it finally merged into a sob. Tears clouded her eyes and she slumped against Brad's chest. He patted her on the back a little stiffly while the salty liquid wetted his overall.
"Shhh ... that's better," he whispered softly.
Someone stepped up to him and before he knew what was happening, they had given the girl an injection. Her body went limp and a man in a white coat took the girl from his arms. Brad got up and looked around for Vertigo. He was apparently reprimanding the guards who had been following the girl. When he was done, he dismissed the men with an impatient gesture.
"Damn idiots," he growled. "You'd think that it is not so hard to take care of a few brats that barely let got of their mother's tits."
He gave Brad a respectful look. "That was quite impressing, boy. Not everyone manages to calm a panicked empath. You have to radiate a lot of confidence to do that. "
"Empath?" Brad had heard the word before, but did not know what it meant.
"They perceive emotions. Some need physical contact, others suffice with physical proximity. Some of them may even transfer feelings to another person."
Brad nodded absently. The girl's wide gaze still haunted him. It made him feel uneasy an vulnerable. He looked around the hall once more and made a comprehensive gesture.
"What is all this?" he asked.
"A training center," Vertigo replied. "For supernatural talents like you and the little emotion reader. Do you want a guided tour? Ms. Nakamura will still need about half an hour before we will be able to meet her. "
Vertigo pointed invitingly into the direction where the white coat had disappeared with the girl. "Shall we start here?"
Brad agreed and they went to the bright corridor. Brad had no doubt that they would end up in the lobby at the end of the arched hallway that seemed to circle around it. For now, however, they stopped at a glass window, through which he could see a kind of examination room.
There were countless meters on the walls. Large gray boxes with scoreboards and buttons. They blinked and Brad imagined a steady beeping, but no sound escaped through the thick pane. A table was placed in the middle of the room with a dark-haired boy sitting behind it. Like Brad, he was dressed in gray overalls. His forehead and temples had electrodes attached to a monitor in the background. Next to him stood a man in a white coat with a clipboard in his hand. He spoke to the boy, then put a metal cylinder on the table in front of him. The boy frowned and focused on the cylinder.
"What is he doing?" Brad demanded to know.
"Look, then you know it," was the answer. "If the little toad is any good."
Slowly and barely visible, the cylinder began to move on the table. At first it only shivered, then it slid towards the edge of the table inch by inch. The monitor in the background showed distinct waves and a light blinked. Only when the weight had dropped from the table, the boy's tension eased. He cheerfully looked up at the white coat, but the man just wrote something on his clipboard, picked up the cylinder, and put it back on the table. With a gesture he instructed the boy to repeat the axercise. The boy clenched his teeth and concentrated again.
"Telekinesis," Vertigo explained. "Maybe he will be of some use. Let's see what else we have to offer."
In the next room, that looked quite similar to the first, a girl sat in front of a candle. At her hand movements, the flame grew or shrank, flickering in one direction and then into another, even breaking away from its source for a moment before it went out. The woman in the coat accompanying the girl said something that conjured up a slight smile on the girl's face. Then the woman lit the candle again.
"Ah, a little fire charmer," Vertigo muttered. "Pyrokinetics are not as rare as you think. Most, however, do not recognize their talent. "
The next room was empty, but the following showed a boy again. He sat in front of a metal cylinder just like the first, only this time the cylinder did not move. The boy held out his hands, sweat beads forming on his forehead grimacing under the effort, but the weight remained where it was. The man next to him shook his head, went to the door and pressed the button of a box next to it. Brad suspected some kind of intercom system.
The boy jumped up. There was panic on his face. He screamed inaudibly, grabbed the man by the coat and was shaken off. The boy fell to his knees, shouting, begging, but the man remained unmoved. Finally, the door opened and two black uniformed guards entered the room. They took the boy between them and now Brad heard his cries from afar.
"Please, let me try again. I can do it. Let me stay! I can do it. Please! Nooooo! "
"Dead wood," Vertigo growled. "We are not the Salvation Army."
A young woman joined them. "Ms. Nakamura wants to see you now. Please follow me to the elevator."
Hesitantly Brad followed Vertigo and the woman, the cries of the boy still echoing in his mind.
The narrow, steel cabin took them three floors down. Brad just saw that there had to be six floors in total before he was led out of the elevator. Again they entered a brightly lit corridor.
"She's in Cabin 2," the young woman said before leaving Brad and Vertigo and headed elsewhere
They entered a room through a kind of airlock. It reminded Brad of a sickroom rather than an examination room. The smell of disinfectants and other unpleasant liquids filled the air. A respirator pumped monotonously next to a barred bed. A small woman with a steel-gray bun stood by the bed staring at a small monitor.
"Greetings, Ms. Nakamura. I heard you did a good job in my absence. "
The woman turned and eyed Brad with hard, almond-shaped eyes before greeting Vertigo with a firm handshake.
"Commander. It's good to have you back here. I hope the journey was enjoyable?" Her voice had a strange singing tone. She had no accent, but it was felt that she preferred to express herself in another, probably Asian, language.
"Extremely pleasant, certainly," Vertigo replied jovially. "And as you can see, I brought you a small surprise."
The hard eyes rested on Brad again and a greedy expression appeared in the woman's stare. "Is he the one? That would be …" She stopped talking and put her hands over her mouth.
"It's him," Vertigo confirmed. "A viable specimen. A real splendor. "
Mrs. Nakamura reached out for Brad with her bony fingers and examined him. She looked into his nose, eyes and ears, fingered his wrists, felt his body. He felt more and more like a breeding horse being examined by a potential buyer.
Suddenly a rattle came from the bed behind them. The monitor next to the headboard came to life and drew hectic wavy lines. A meter began to spit out a roll of paper. Mrs. Nakamura released Brad's arm and hurried to the strip of paper.
"Ah, good boy. So you don't want to leave us, yet," she chirped, examining her notes. Brad, on the other hand, was magically attracted to the sight of the bed. He took a step forward and shuddered.
There was a boy about his age. The head was shaved and plastered with innumerable electrodes. The face almost completely disappeared behind a large breathing mask, its tube attached to the pump at the end of the bed. His pale, spindly arms twitched uncontrollably on the covers. The spidery hands were cramped and the overlong nails tore the skin on the inside drawing blood. It was the only color on this ghost-like creature. Worst of all were the wide-open eyes, that rolled uncontrollably in their caves, so only the yellowish white was visible.
The epileptic fit ended as quickly as it had come, and the boy collapsed back into the pillows. Mrs. Nakamura tore off the strip of paper and waved it in the air like a victory banner.
"Finally a vision. And I thought we had to dispose him "
Brad stare was still glued to the bed.
"What ... what's that?" He finally managed to croak.
Vertigo stood next to him and put his arm around his shoulders in a paternal gesture.
"That, my boy, is a Precog."
Brad felt like the walls of the room were caving in. Hot and cold shivers ran down his spine. His legs buckled under and his throat felt dry. He had to get out of here.
"I think we've seen enough for today," Vertigo announced. "We will discuss everything else tomorrow morning."
The massive man brought him back to the surface. In the square in front of the bunker, Brad took a deep breath, until his stomach had calmed down and his hands had stopped shaking.
"You'll have to get used to the sight, boy," he heard Vertigo behind him. "You will learn to see the future from them. It's just a shame they will not learn from you how to keep it out of their heads. "
"From them?" Brad echoed. "Does that mean there are more of these ... things?"
"That's the spirit, Bradley," Vertigo praised. "Don't let anything get close to you in here. But to answer your question: Yes, there are more of them. Twelve in total, even if two of them are already on the verge of death. Too worn out. You see, the drugs, the tube feeding and everything for years. All good things have to come to an end. But we hope that you will be spared of that. "
The man grinned broadly and patted Brad on the shoulder, encouraging him to move toward the forest. "Come on. I'll show you the quarters."
Brad was about to follow him when the bunker door opened again. Two guards came out pushing a kind of wheeled stretcher. The vehicle lurched on the uneven ground, and as they passed over a rock, the blanket on top slipped to the side. A human arm appeared underneath and Brad shuddered. The last time he saw that arm it had been stretched out to a metal cylinder that just would not move.