Brian Steele - 4POCALYPSE - Four Tales of a Dark Future

She listened. No alarms, nor anyone chasing her. This was too easy and she wondered if it were a setup.

Down she went.

It wasn’t until she had gone down ten or so flights of stairs did she realize there were cameras on each level.

She froze.

“You’re reputation precedes you, Officer Cooper,” said the speaker near the camera.

“Good. You were expecting me,” Jasmine answered in a cool and calm manner, but on the inside she was nearly leaping out of her skin.

“I took the precaution to let you in,” the speaker continued. “Otherwise security would have killed you immediately.”

“Huh?” Jasmine mumbled barely above a whisper.

“All doors are locked except for the entrance to my room. You can go back up. Of course if you do that you I’m afraid I’ll have to sound the alarm and you’ll stand a good chance of being captured, or worse, killed. Or, you can continue down.”

Jasmine tried the door and found it locked.

“Look through the window and you’ll see a security guard. If you were able to make it through that door you would be shot immediately.”

Jasmine looked through the door and quickly took a step back. Two armed guards stood at the door, but what frightened her more than seeing two armed men were the fact they were dressed in as Gendarmerie Police, complete with the City of Texas insignia.

“But they’re… they’re police.”

“Yes, and what did you expect?”

“I’m not sure,” Jasmine wondered aloud. She certainly was not expecting Gendarmerie Police. “And if I come down?”

“Then we’ll discuss why you’re trying so hard to get here. You managed to neutralize Owen but I fail to understand why you’re coming here to the facility as if to close us down.”

“You don’t understand?”

“No.”

“Do you even realize what you are doing?”

“No.”

Jasmine hung her head as if she were speaking to an unemotional idiot. No one could be this stupid.

She went down.

Thirty floors below the surface was a factory beyond anything Jasmine had ever seen. Legal and certified Lab and Pharmaceutical Technicians moved in and around each room, and beyond the workers were conveyor belts with packaged drugs—drugs that she had recognized—in various stages, and as Jasmine followed the route no one made an attempt to stop her. She passed several Gendarmerie Police who merely nodded. One stopped and shook her hand, “We’re all rooting for you, Jaz. Every cop from every city is rooting for you.”

Jasmine was stunned. So stunned, she didn’t know how to reply. How could these people not know that the drug was being manufactured in a building they were protecting?

For fear of mentioning what she was thinking, she merely nodded and moved on. At the end of the building she witnessed the final stage of preparation and delivery.

“Who’s in charge here,” Jasmine asked a lab technician donned in a white lab coat with a Sheldon Pharmaceutical, Inc. patch sewn on the left breast, who merely shrugged and moved off into a lab.

“I am in charge,” said a voice that came from a speaker at the end of the hall. “Two doors down on the left is an office. The door is unlocked and waiting. Would you care for a beverage, perhaps something to eat? Your journey has been long and we’re excited to finally meet.” As she continued down the hall the voice continued, “It was exciting news to hear about Owen and his renegades being disposed of, and the many lives you saved. As I understand it, Lieutenant Tanner has already begun prepping to build the outpost you recommended. I must say we are very excited to finally meet.”

Jasmine stopped at the door, and when she did, the voice that had sent chills down her spine earlier stopped as well. She turned the knob, expecting to be killed and slowly pulled her shotgun.

“Your weapon is not required Ms. Cooper. You are safe here.”

She eased the Mossberg back into its holster and pushed the door open.

The room was empty, but within a minute or two a woman came through the door and set a tray down on the table. On the tray was of all things, a Coca Cola, a bag of chips, and what looked to be a club sandwich.

“I took the liberty of choosing for you. The sandwich is fresh, however I am not sure about the bag of potato chips. My records do not indicate the date and time they were delivered. We track shipments in an out but we do not register the date an item was made or packaged.”

Jasmine turned and finally saw the face of a young man, in his twenties, not much older than she. He had long blond hair and reminded her of Eric Cotter. She looked closely at the monitor for a moment and then finally said, “Eric? Eric Cotter?”

“Have we met? I do not recall meeting you,” Eric responded.

“We met…” Jasmine tried to answer, but the whole conversation was confusing. How could Eric Cotter be here, and how could he be the Last Pharmacist?

“Please sit. Your coke is getting warm, and your sandwich will spoil, and under our current dilemma we cannot afford to waste food. Even if it is stale,” said Eric in a more forceful tone.

“I could not agree more, please forgive me,” Jasmine said while sitting down. “I’m afraid I’m somewhat tired, exhausted.”

“That is very understandable. I’ll wait until you catch your breath. Please eat. I will be back shortly,” Eric said, and then the monitor went blank.

“What the…” Jasmine wondered aloud. She then opened the coke and took a drink and actually smiled when the drink burned her throat a little. It had been at least ten years, probably more since she had tasted a carbonated drink. She then bit into the club sandwich and nearly swooned; the turkey was fresh, the cheese was cheesy, and the bacon, lettuce and tomato were crisp. She couldn’t believe what she tasted. She took another drink of her coke, and then opened the bag of chips. They were stale but she ate the salty snack with enjoyment. She expected to walk into the middle of a firefight and was actually sitting and having a meal. Not a last meal, I hope, Jasmine thought as she took another bite of the sandwich.

Thirty minutes later the monitor blinked on and Eric Cotter returned. “I trust your meal was sufficient.”

“Even more so, thank you for your generosity and hospitality,” Jasmine answered, still unsure of what was going on.

“I wish I could have served a healthier meal but our cafeteria closes at nine postmeridian, but have no fear it will be open at six antemeridian for breakfast, which I am sure you will enjoy. From what I understand we serve meals that are beyond reproach.”

“I’m sure,” Jasmine said. She then looked at the door. “What’s on the other side of that door?”

“I’m afraid that area is off limits, Ms. Cooper, even for someone of your caliber. Security. I’m sure you understand.”

“And if I barge in?”

“You will be taken into custody, and maybe killed if you refuse. But please, let’s not do that. I’m excited that you have taken the time to come to see me however I am afraid I do not understand the meaning of this visit.”

“How, how can you not understand. Do you know why I’ve left the City of Kansas?”

“Yes. To take out Owen and his men, and bravo, you did it. Along with you and Lieutenant Tanner you have made passage between Kansas and Oklahoma safe, and I presume from Oklahoma to Texas, or should I say if they let you, you will clear a safer route. Bravo, I say, bravo.”

“I’m afraid you still do not understand—wait, wait a minute—you don’t understand because you’re not Eric Cotter,” Jasmine said with a tone of excitement. Although the voice was an exact match his mannerism and expressions never changed. Even when he became excited his expression remained exactly as it had the moment he came on the monitor.