John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

The rap to his skull had not diminished his recollection of where he was and what he had been doing. Elias knew that if he opened his eyes, he would not find his wife carefully lifting and dusting the beautiful items she had collected from their travels, and placing them back on the display shelf. He knew that he was in a hostile environment, occupied by uncongenial people, and that these moments, while his captors waited for him to regain consciousness, were more than likely his last moments of peace.

He had deduced that since he felt no physical restraints on his wrists or ankles and was on what seemed to be a mattress or padded cot, he was probably in some sort of cell, and that the sounds he heard were coming from his jailer.

Satisfied that he had gathered all of the information he could about his surroundings from the available input, he slightly opened his eyes, immediately directing his gaze toward the sounds of movement. He saw…a woman, standing with her back to him, holding what appeared to be a carved wooden bookend with her right hand and dusting it with her left.

Elias was momentarily shaken. He involuntarily opened his eyes wider. She was about ten feet away and was wearing dark green cargo pants, a camouflage T-shirt, and white athletic shoes. Her red hair was cut short, very short. As he silently watched her clean, he noticed that she was in excellent shape. The musculature on her arms was defined without being bulky, the T-shirt snug enough to show the ripples of toned muscle beneath.

Tearing his eyes away from her, Elias saw that they were in a mechanical room, filled with sheet metal ductwork and an array of process piping. They were not the type in the electrical raceways where his base camp was established, but color-coded pipes of larger diameters, obviously designed to carry water, steam, and high-pressure coolant loads. Mixed in with the jumble of ducts and pipes were an assortment of chairs and tables, a bookcase, and a sofa. He determined that he was indeed occupying a small bed. The area appeared to be the woman’s living quarters.

The juxtaposition of mechanical gear and an apartment’s worth of furniture was unusual enough, but the effect was hyperbolized by the abundance of decorative objects carefully arranged on nearly all of the available horizontal and vertical surfaces. There were ornate vases on the floor with peacock feathers arcing upward, lacy and jeweled fans mounted to the walls, small brass castings of wild animals such as lions and panthers, a shadow box mounted on the side of a support column and filled with miniature wedding accessories, including a tiny wedding gown pinned to the back panel. The most unusual area was a large section of sheet metal, clearly a main trunk line for the air conditioning system. It was essentially covered with hundreds of small refrigerator magnets: candy bars, kitchen appliances, all kinds of fake food like cheeseburgers and slices of pie, and a large assortment of other colorful and delicate items.

Elias saw his Beretta and AK-47 perched on the edge of a coffee table, the rest of which was filled with decorative objects. Quietly lifting his head slightly, he found that he was not restrained in any way. The back of his head ached from the blow that had knocked him out earlier, but otherwise he was fine, as far as he could discern.

“You’re awake,” she said, the tone of her voice friendly and casual.

Elias noticed that she had finished dusting the bookend and was holding a mirror set into a gold-leaf frame. She had obviously seen him in the mirror when he raised his head.

“I am. Where am I?”

She carefully placed the mirror onto its resting place in the filigreed plate-holder on the shelf and turned to Elias. “You’re in my place.”

Attempting to sit up, Elias paused as a wave of dizziness coursed through him, and he fell back onto a supporting elbow. “Your place? This looks like a mechanical room.”

She walked gracefully across to him and reached out, offering a hand of support. “It is. I like it here. It’s a much better spot than the area you picked out for your camp.”

Startled by her knowledge, Elias said, “You’ve seen my digs?”

A sudden smile wrinkled the corners of her mouth. “Digs? I like that. Nineteen-fifties beatnik jargon. Cool, man!”

He took her hand and slowly sat up, triggering a new flash of pain from his head. She must have seen the effect of that pain, because the smile left her face, replaced by an expression of concern. “Aspirin or ibuprofen?”

“Got anything stronger?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I do. There’s some Percocet with my things, but they’re back at my place.”

“You’re in no shape to go there now, so you’ll just have to make do with what’s in my medicine cabinet.”

“Ibuprofen. Four of them. And thanks.”

She was still holding his arm to steady him. Reluctantly, she released her grip and walked across the area to a small cabinet, which was trimmed with an elaborate silver design around the face, opened it and removed a small bottle. Compressing the cap to defeat the childproofing, she shook out four tablets and returned to Elias, grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator on her way back.

Gratefully, Elias took the pills and washed them down, wishing them Godspeed on their circuitous journey to his skull.

“Thank you very much. If I may ask, who are you and how did I get here?”

She was still standing in front of him. Sitting gently on the bed beside him, she extended her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Tillie.”

They shook hands.

“I’m Elias.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh. Wilson told me.”

“You know Wilson?”

“Everybody knows everyone here. But, yes, Wilson is probably my best friend in this place.”

“So, he told you about me?”

“Actually, Mr. Death,” she replied with an impish grin, “I was inside his shack during your visit with him.”

“Another one with the ‘Mr. Death’ thing,” Elias said with mock exasperation. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was that I was escaping Kreitzmann’s lab and someone knocked me out.”

Her smile turned into a good-natured laugh. “You were anything but escaping. If I hadn’t gotten you out of there, you’d be one of his lab rats right now.”

Elias’ mind flashed back to the scene. He remembered making it all the way to the receptionist, when he was suddenly hit from behind.

“What happened? I didn’t see what hit me.”

“You were taken out by one of the Zippers.”

“Zippers?”

“That’s what Wilson and I call them. I think you call them the blurs.”

“Why Zippers?”

“You’re kidding, right? Because they zip around.”

He looked closely at her for a moment. She was in her early thirties, had bright green eyes and a full crop of freckles, all accentuated by the shaggy, close-cropped red hair. But her most prominent feature was the, for lack of a better term, aliveness of her face, which displayed each passing emotion with clarity. Her eyes shined with an intelligence and wit rarely seen, and they fixed upon Elias’ eyes with a directness and firmness which was almost disconcerting. At that moment she was watching his face, her innate curiosity seeming to pull his thoughts from him before he was ready to let them out. She leaned toward him slightly, in anticipation.

“Tillie, what are they? The Zippers, I mean.”

With a dismissive shrug she responded, “I wasn’t able to track you completely inside Kreitzmannstein’s lab, but I’m assuming you got the tour.”

“I did, until I ran into someone who blew my cover.” Elias was not sure why he was being so forthcoming in his information, other than the disarming nature of the woman, not to mention the fact that she had more than likely saved his life.