Chapter Twenty-Six
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Somewhere beneath the desert of Arizona . . .
D r. Howard Kling adjusts his tie and glances nervously at the other scientists seated at round tables throughout the room. The conference hall is deep underground, insulated from the world above by layers of concrete, steel, and secrecy, but the room itself is a masterpiece of luxury. The walls gleam with panels of dark wood. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, scattering light across a sea of elegantly dressed professionals. Even the chairs feel expensive—thick leather, comfortable enough to lull a man into thinking he’s at a Hollywood award ceremony instead of a meeting.
“You know,” Howard says to the woman seated next to him, keeping his voice low, “if Dominic Corisi doesn’t scream ‘job security,’ I don’t know what does. Nothing says ‘you’re absolutely never leaving this organization’ like a meeting with him .”
Dr. Valerie Hyde smirks, sipping at the champagne there seems to be an abundance of. “Yeah, maybe they’re afraid we’re getting restless after the last batch failed. Don’t want us updating our résumés and jumping ship.”
Howard laughs darkly. “Right, because everyone knows how well Inkwell takes it when people ‘move on.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers and gives Valerie a meaningful look.
Valerie rolls her eyes. “We need to seriously rethink some of our life choices.”
“Rethink?” Howard leans closer, dropping his voice. “Look around, Val. If there was ever a chance we could quit on our own and walk away, that option ended the moment this room filled up. Every face here? These are lifers. We’re in this until the end—one way or another.”
Valerie scans the room, her gaze flicking across a collection of the most brilliant minds Inkwell has ever pulled into its orbit. Most of them are seated in quiet clumps, murmuring amongst themselves, but the tension is palpable. A few of the higher-ranking execs are huddled at one table, a few politicians at another with one apparently well-decorated general. Despite the number of people in the room, it was surprisingly hushed.
“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” Valerie says, taking another sip of champagne. “This is an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?” Howard arches an eyebrow.
“With someone like Corisi on our side, we’ll finally be able to step out of the shadows,” Valerie says, her voice steady with conviction. “No more working in drafty warehouses, no more scavenging for off-market equipment or cobbling together makeshift tech. Do you know what Corisi has access to? Technology we’ve never even heard of. If he’s smart enough to invest in us, we’ll finally have the resources to do this right. We’ll be unstoppable.”
“‘Do this right,’ huh?” Howard leans back in his chair, his smile twisting. “Because we’ve done it so well up to now. Let’s not forget how our last prototype held up under pressure. What was his name? Carl? Craig? Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure half of him is still embedded in the ceiling of Lab Four.”
Valerie’s lips curve into a grim smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “No one remembers the failures once you get it right. That’s the point.”
“Right,” Howard says, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. “When we finally create an army of unstoppable soldiers, the world will thank us, and we’ll be well positioned to bask in all the glory.”
“Exactly,” Valerie says.
For a moment, they both sit in silence, the low murmur of the room filling the space between them. But then Howard’s expression shifts, a flicker of unease breaking through his usual sarcasm.
“Do you ever think about the men and who they were before they met us?” he asks quietly. “I don’t care where they go afterward. They’re monsters—the world’s better off without them. But...” He hesitates, then sighs. “I feel bad when I first meet them. When they come to us, full of hope that we can cure them. How do you handle that?”
Valerie doesn’t answer immediately. She traces a manicured nail along the rim of her glass, her gaze distant. “It’s like when you visit an animal shelter,” she says eventually. “The trick is to never look them in the eye.”
Howard laughs, though it’s more bitter than amused. “Yeah, I’ll try that.” A moment later, he picks up a piece of silverware from the table, turning it over in his hand. “They went all out to impress us. I mean, look at this.” He holds up the fork, its polished surface catching the light. “This thing’s from 1945. Nice touch, right?”
Valerie wrinkles her nose in disgust. “It’s scratched. They couldn’t have gone with something more modern?”
Howard shrugs. “Maybe it’s symbolic. You know, to remind us of where we started. First batch of soldiers, first experiments... or whatever. Someone’s probably real proud of themselves for the metaphor.”
Valerie chuckles darkly then picks up the knife next to her plate. “Seriously, symbolic or not, they could have gotten better-looking silverware.”
There’s a flash of energy from the knife and she drops it to the ground. All around the room there are bursts of light. “What’s going on?” Howard asks in a high, nervous tone.
A cold chill settles over Valerie when she sees men in vintage military uniforms popping up all over the room. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling we’re not going to like it.”