ASYLUM: Chapter 1

                                                          ASYLUM

Chapter 1

   When I was younger, one of the County psychologists suggested I start keeping a journal. I thought it was silly; people want to read the words of special people, why would someone want to read the journal of someone so, ordinary and mundane? Until she told me why I should. I did and it seems to have helped at times when I felt excited, or lost, alone and about as far from special as you could get. I took some derision from some of the foster kids I shared different homes with, you know, a guy with a diary, but after I started, it sort of became a compulsion. I wrote about everything. The good, the bad, and the down-right shitty. So, that’s what this is, in case you’re wondering.

   I’d never spent much time on computers or games when I was growing up because most foster homes don’t spend a lot of money on the foster kids if they can get away with it. From what I was told as I was being raised in a series of foster homes, I was abandoned by my mother the day I was born. The last foster home I lived in was actually kind of nice. The husband and wife who took care of their charges, really seemed to care for the kids living with them. Well, until they turned eighteen. On my eighteenth birthday the wife baked me a cake, then presented me with the only birthday present I remember ever receiving, a suit case and two hundred dollars in cash. She helped me pack my clothes and then led me to the front door where she told me “good luck” and closed the door after I stepped out. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, there was supposed to be a transition house where…yeah, but…there was always that ‘yeah, but.’

   I had finished High School the week before and sort of just drifted down the street wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my life. Two days later, after sleeping at night in a local park, I was thinking about what to have for breakfast with my quickly disappearing money when I passed a construction site and overheard a man shouting angrily into a cell phone.   

   “Damn it! That son of Cole’s just called and told me he had a rough night and isn’t going to make it in this morning! I have a bob-tail delivery truck coming with an entire four-inch calculated system that needs to be off-loaded and located onsite, and now I have to try and carry it in by myself.”

   He listened to the reply and he finally said in return, “What about the Union Hall? Don’t they have anyone they can send out?” He listened again and responded, “Dale, that son of Cole’s is the worst apprentice I’ve ever worked with and frankly I’ve had it with him. The union has A, B, and C list workers; I’ll gladly take a C list guy that knows nothing about the job than put up with Cole’s son another day.”

   He listened again before dejectedly replying, “Damn, Nick, where can I find a day worker around here? Hell, I live fifty miles from here and you know it.”

   For some reason, I stepped forward and through the chain-link fencing surrounding the job site I said, “I need a job.” The man glanced at me and then looked away, but stopped and looked at me again. I knew what he was seeing; a scrawny eighteen-year-old kid that a stiff wind could blow away. Auburn hair that needed a trim, five-foot-ten and on my best day maybe 140 pounds. “I’m stronger than I look,” I said, as I desperately tried to get him to consider me.

   He stared at me for about ten seconds and then his attention was drawn to a large truck loaded with bundles of pipe that was pulling into the job site driveway. “You’re hired kid.”

   Dragging my suitcase, I quickly ran to the gate the truck had entered and then walked onto the jobsite. When I reached the man on the phone, I leaned my suitcase against the fence and waited as he finished his call and then put his phone away.

   “Come here,” he said.

    I stepped up and held out my hand to shake his, “My name is Daniel Smith, Sir.”

   He took my hand and shook it, “John Cameron.” He was quite a bit older than me, probably in his early forties and though he had a good deal of grey in his moustache and sideburns, he looked really fit.

   “Mr. Cameron.”

   “Ever done any construction work? Fire Sprinklers?”

   “No, Sir, but I’m a quick learner.”

    “I can’t promise more than a day’s work, but you’ll get ten dollars an hour as long as I need you, okay?”

   “Yes, Sir.”

    He glanced over my clothes and asked, “Got a pair of boots? Work gloves?

    “Uh, no Sir. Is that going to be a problem?”

     “As long as the Job Superintendent doesn’t notice the loafers your wearing, no. As far as the gloves go, I have a spare pair you can use.”

      “Thank you, you won’t regret it.”

       The bundles of pipe were heavy and extremely oily, but I didn’t complain; I just tried to stay up with Cameron’s pace. It took a while to unload the truck and I figured I’d probably get maybe fifteen dollars, but it was fifteen dollars more than I had to begin with. Cameron signed off on the truck driver’s delivery receipt and the trucker drove his truck off the job site.

     “Well,” I said. “I really appreciate you letting me help.”

      Cameron looked at his watch and then asked, “Unloading the truck was helpful, but all these line bundles and mains need to be positioned where they belong in the building. You up for helping with that?”

     “Sure! Where do we start?”

     He motioned for me to follow him to his truck where he removed a roll of plans from the front seat. Stepping to the front of the truck, he rolled out the blueprints and weighed down the corners with rocks. “Okay, I can’t be the brains for two bodies, so I’m going to give you a short primer on reading blueprints. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask, ok?”

   “Yes, Sir. I had two years of mechanical drawing in school, so maybe that will help?”

    He showed me which lines designated what he called “bulk mains” and then the “cross mains” and where they started and ended in the building. That’s what we did first and then we started spreading out, what he called, the branch line bundles. By the time that was finished he said it was time for lunch and he asked if I had anything to eat, I said no, but there was a fast food place across the street from the job. He asked if I had money to pay for it and I said yes. He sat down in his truck to start eating his lunch and I went and bought my own after he said he’d watch my suitcase. When I came back to eat, he was just finishing a call. We shared some information as he asked me questions about my situation, talked about his job and other small talk.

     When we were finished, he asked, “Are you going to be busy tomorrow?”

    “No, Sir.”

    “I have another delivery scheduled for tomorrow; do you want to help me with that one too?”

    “That would be really great!”

    “Okay, lets finish up today and we’ll talk some more then.”

    “Yes, Sir.”

   That’s what we did. I’ll be honest, he worked my butt off and by the end of the day I was dragging ass, but I stayed with it the best I could. The best thing was he was constantly teaching me, explaining why we were doing what we were doing and everything he said made sense. At the end of the work day I helped him unload ladders, a tool box, and a pipe machine that I really wanted to play with because the way it operated was so interesting.

   He was sitting in his truck after we finished for the day and I was standing there with my suitcase wondering where I was going to stay the night when he asked, “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

    To tell the truth, I was embarrassed to admit that no, I didn’t. My face must have shown my discomfort, “No, like I said earlier…”

    “I’m going to need you early because I live so far away from here and I don’t want to get caught in the rush hour traffic coming and going. So, we’ll be starting at six in the morning. Do you have an alarm clock?”

     “Uh…”

     “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Look, I have a shed in my backyard that’s actually pretty nice. If you want to, why don’t you come home with me and I’ll put you up until I don’t need you anymore? You can get showered, cleaned up, and I might have some old work clothes you can borrow; what do you say? There’s no sense in ruining the good clothes you have.”

     “I…I mean, that sounds pretty convenient; how much rent will you ask for it?”

     “It’s a shed, Daniel, it won’t cost you anything. This way I can be sure you show up on time, rested and fed.”

      “Well, ok, if you’re sure it won’t be inconvenient?”

       “I wouldn’t have asked if it was inconvenient. Throw your suitcase in back and let’s get going.”

       That’s what I did, and it changed my life forever.

        When we arrived at his home, we had an early dinner after we both took turns getting cleaned up. John grilled up a platter of BBQ chicken thighs, cooked some mac and cheese and a pot of canned baked beans he doctored up. I swear, it was one of the best meals I ever had. After that, he wheeled a fold-up bed into the shed in his back yard and I put my suitcase up on a box so it was off the concrete floor. I followed him back to the house and he went through a closet in his bedroom and handed me five sets of work clothes that hung a bit loose on me, but would work fine. He said working wasn’t a fashion show anyway. Unfortunately, the pair of used, but good work boots were too small for my feet, so I asked if there was a shoe store around and I would buy myself some. He took me to a second hand store that carried shoes and boots and I purchased a pair of really good hiking boots that fit me perfectly, heck, they were even broken in already and only set me back ten dollars.

    I put my boots in the shed when we got back and he told me to join him on the back porch where he had grilled, and we had eaten our dinner. When he came out of the house, he had two dark bottles that were shining with icy coldness. “Here, Daniel, try one of these and tell me what you think.”

   “What is it?” I asked as I took the offered bottle with no label.

    “Home brewed Bock.”

     “Bock? What’s that?”

     “Beer, dark beer. I think it’s pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

     “Uh, John, I’m not twenty-one yet.”

     He smiled and said, “Dan, you’re not going to be driving tonight, we’re sitting on my back porch, and I want your opinion; go on, try it.”

     I popped off the lid and what looked like blue smoke drifted up and out of it; not a lot, but definitely noticeable. “Is it supposed to do that?” I asked.

      “Yep.”

       I took a tentative sip and allowed it to sluice over my tongue before swallowing and then breathing it, “Wow, that’s really good,” I said. I meant it; it was very good.

    John smiled and sipped from his own bottle. “I limit myself to only one beer a night when I’m working the next day because the alcohol content is so high, but you shouldn’t feel any effects because of the big meal we had. I don’t drink to get drunk; at least, not anymore.”

    I smiled and took another sip. By the time I finished my first bottle of beer, my brain was humming and not long after that, John sent me to the shed and bed.

    The next day was a repeat of the first, but we actually worked harder. The piping that was delivered was to be installed on the second floor of the building and there was more of it for some reason. Cameron finally told me the extra piping would go into the attic space for fire protection up there. I was damned sore when we started from the work I wasn’t used to doing the day before, but the stiffness worked out pretty fast once we actually started spreading the pipe. At the end of the work day I actually fell asleep on the way back to John’s home; I was one tired puppy.

    Cameron had me shower up first and when I had finished, I discovered he was once again cooking on the BBQ. This time though he had me watch as six burgers slowly cooked on the top wire shelf of the grill, while he showered. When he was done, we worked together preparing veggies and lettuce for a salad. We both ate two burgers apiece and a shitload of salad, topped with his own dressing he had prepared fresh. I was pretty well stuffed because the hamburger patties and buns were the biggest, I had ever seen. When I asked him about the two extra grilled patties, he said they were for our lunch the next day.

    “You mean you have more work for me?” I asked.

    “Yeah, well, I was wondering; do you like the work you’ve been doing?”

    “Yes, Sir, it’s kind of fun learning all the new stuff you’re teaching me.”

    “Do you think you might like to keep doing it?”

    I held my breath for a moment and then, “Yes, Sir, I mean, you know I need a job pretty bad and…Yes, Sir, I’d definitely like to keep doing the work.”

    He held up one of his index fingers as if to say, wait, and then walked into the house and came back with two beers; he handed one to me and when we had opened them he tapped my bottle with his and said, “Looks to me like you are an official working man.”

   “Honest?”

   “To God, Daniel, honest to God.”

   The immense feeling of relief I felt almost made me break down emotionally. Life was looking better. “Thanks, Mr. Cameron. I won’t let you down.”

    “No, I don’t think you will. I spoke with the owner of the company I work for and told them how good of a worker you were. He is going to pull some strings at the Union Hall and get you listed as a Probationary Apprentice until the next group starts their classes and you’ll join up with them for training. In the meantime, you’ll keep working with me and receiving Apprentice wages.”

    “How much is that going to be?”

   “Sixteen dollars an hour and after 300 hours you will have health insurance too.”

   “Wow!”

   “That’s not all; every six months, if you pass your classes and get good field reports, you’ll get another raise in pay over the next five years.”

    “Really? Just for learning something I like doing? Wow!”

    John laughed, “Yeah, you get paid for doing something you like doing.”

     That is what I did for the next five years, I learned my job and all its permutations. I worked hard and I studied hard. The most important thing was I saved my money. John had an old Ford Ranger truck in his garage and he gave it to me so I could have my own vehicle to travel to school. When I finished the apprenticeship, I became a Journeyman Sprinklerfitter and continued working with John for another three months before I accepted the first job I ran as a Foreman. Now I was running a crew and I started doing all of the specialty systems the company I worked for would install. I found out the Apprenticeship school was accredited in the local community college and I could apply the credits to earning an Associate of Arts degree, so I took the rest of the classes required and received an Associate of Arts Degree in Fire Science. I discovered I enjoyed going to college so much, I started taking more night classes while expanding my horizons. Then I heard about on-line courses I could take and I accelerated the learning process by taking as many classes as they would allow me too.

    Eight years after meeting John Cameron, the company I worked for asked me to come into the office because they wanted to ask me some questions about a job they were planning on bidding for. Of course, I went and discovered they were considering bidding on a government job. Supposedly, it was going to be completely underground and the project was going to require multiple types of systems; they wanted me to supervise the installation if their bid was accepted. I agreed I would, but the project was going to be a huge undertaking and I really did not think we would be awarded the contract.

    I was wrong.

    The company was awarded the contract and Homeland Security was requesting that the individuals in charge of acquisitions, design and installation of the fire sprinkler system travel to a co-ordination meeting in Austin, Texas. I had never been out of California, so I was looking forward to the trip. We were told to acquire airline tickets and book hotel accommodations for a period of one week. At the end of the visit we would receive a check from FEMA to cover all of our reasonable expenses.

   The trip was spectacularly boring with long periods of waiting for meetings to start. Frankly, I thought my presence was particularly unnecessary, but when I brought up the possibility of leaving, I was informed that I couldn’t leave until they had received clearance from the FBI that I was not considered a security risk. That made me rather nervous. Before the week was up, the three of us received our security clearances after we signed nondisclosure agreements and were warned to never, under any circumstances, speak about the job to anyone who had not been cleared by the FBI. That made me somewhat nervous also. The time frame of the job was listed as one year and all construction personnel would be housed onsite. All meals would be provided and the workers would be required to work 21 days straight with ten days off each month. During that 21 days, no outside contact with non-employees would be allowed. No one would be allowed the possession of cameras, cell phones, and on and on. In other words, don’t even think about sharing anything about the job site. Especially when you visited your family and friends during your ten days off.

   I would stop in at the office every once in a while, and inquire about the engineering of the job that was officially referred to as “The Facility”, but no one knew exactly when our portion of the job was going to start. All the plans were submitted to Homeland Security and after several weeks we received directions to prepare to start fabricating. I had spoken briefly with John Cameron about the job, but when I informed him Homeland Security had told us not to speak to anyone about it, he immediately said not to discuss the project with anyone, including him. He said his grandfather had worked on the Manhattan Project and even his wife and kids had never known what he did there. We never discussed it again.

   It was another six months before we were told to fabricate the pipe for the first phase of the job and prepare it for shipment. When our head engineer asked where our truckers were to deliver the materials, he was told the pipe would be picked up by a certified trucking company and delivered by them to a transfer site where a team of government contractors would take the material on to the designated work site.

   I was given directions to report a week later with enough personal clothing and toiletry items to last a minimum of 21 days. I was also informed I would receive all meals onsite and there would be facilities for cleaning my dirty laundry. I was also told “The Facility”, would provide information regarding my transportation the day before I was to leave. As promised, the day before my scheduled departure I was informed to be at Hollywood/Burbank Airport at one AM the next morning. I was told to look for a desk with the name INSEC on it where someone would assist me and escort me to the noncommercial plane, I would be traveling in. I would not be passing through Airport Security gates, so I should feel free to bring larger sized personal hygiene products, alcohol, anything I might need for three weeks. That was nice to know; on my first flight I lost several items to security because they were too large, like shaving cream and such.

   I spent the rest of the day making last minute purchases and telling John Cameron I was leaving that night/morning and I would be gone for 21 days. He seemed sad to see me go, but said this job could lead to bigger and better things. I shrugged it off; to me it was just another job.

   John drove me to the airport and we arrived two hours early for the flight. That’s what you do now days, but the airport was totally dead. There were people there, but not very many. I said my goodbyes to John, grabbed the duffel bag I had all of my gear in and strolled into the building looking for the Security desk. It was easy to find and the two uniformed guards seemed absolutely bored to death as I walked up to them; they actually looked relived that something was happening. They didn’t appear to be your normal TSA employees, but seemed more…I don’t know, maybe, engaged? They were not wearing TSA uniforms either, they actually appeared more like guys you would see on a SWAT team. Neither man had a name tag on their shirt, but both had Patches stuck to a Velcro panel on the right side of their jackets that simply said INSEC.

   “Hi,” I said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here for a 1 AM flight?” I suddenly felt foolish and ill-informed as I looked at them. I had no idea of the name of the carrier, who I was looking for, or anything else.

   One of the guards pulled a clip board over and flipped the cover page. “Name?”

   “Uh, Daniel Smith, I work for…”

   “We don’t need to know who you work for,” the guard who was not looking for my name said. “Just answer any question with a brief, but correct answer.”

   His abruptness irritated me a bit, but when in Rome, “Right, Daniel Smith.” I answered.

   “Identification.”

   I pulled out my wallet, removed my ID and handed it to him.

   He scanned a short list, looked at my ID, looked at me and then handed my ID back. Pointing to an area to their right, the one who handed me my ID stated, “See the three benches within the rope enclosure?”

   “Yes,” I answered.

   “Take your bag there and have a seat. If you need to use the facilities, please inform us and one of us will escort you to the restroom and back. Speak to no one outside the rope enclosure, if someone approaches you and tries to engage in conversation, ignore them. If they are persistent, one of us will take care of the problem. Do you understand?”

   “Yeah, pretty much stay to myself.”

   “Exactly.”

   “Okay, you might as well escort me to the men’s room now because I drank a huge cup of coffee on the way here.”

   I expected a heavy sigh, or something, but the one on the right stood up, pushed his chair under the desk and then stepped around it. “We’ll leave your bag in the waiting area; my fellow officer will ensure its security.”

   “Thank you.” I tossed my bag onto my shoulder and carried it to the “waiting area,” where I laid it next to one of the benches and then followed his directions as he walked beside me. “Any idea how many people will be joining me on the plane tonight?”

   “Yes,” that was all he said and I didn’t bother him with asking how many it would be. Obviously, I didn’t need to know.

   By the time 12:30 AM rolled around, there were twelve people, including yours truly, sitting within the rope enclosure. None of the people who arrived said a word to me, though a few deigned to nod at me before sitting down. We waited until 1 AM before the two guards were replaced by one TSA employee. The two men stood just outside the ropes and spoke quietly to one another until a third man dressed in khaki pants, a black polo shirt, black boots, and a lightweight jacket approached them. They handed him the clip board holding our names and he began speaking.

   “Please acknowledge when I call your name by simply stating, here.” He read down the list of names as each person responded. Mine was almost last, but one woman’s name started with a Z. I bet she spent most of her life waiting.

   Two men pushing a baggage cart arrived and loaded everyone’s bags before leaving with them. “Alright,” khaki pants guy said. “Please follow me.” He immediately started walking away at a brisk pace.

   The rest of us followed and he led us to a set of double doors that were standing open. As we passed through, I saw we were now outside the terminal and approaching a small jet aircraft. I have only flown once before when we flew to Austin, but it had been a much larger plane. There wasn’t even a set of stairs necessary to climb onboard, only three steps folded down from the aircraft’s side. We filed onboard and moved towards the front of the cabin where those in front of me sat in the foremost seats and everyone quickly sat filling in all of the seats. As I sat down, a voice came over the cabin’s intercom.

   “This is your pilot, please remain seated with your seats in the upright position, we are expecting some rough air this morning. Keep your seat belts snug and please utilize the bags you will see on the back of the seat in front of you if needed. We will be departing as soon as the ground crew has topped off our fuel tanks.” Not much of a soothsayer, I guess.

   I turned to Ms. Z and asked in just barely a whisper, “This is my first flight here, are we allowed to talk?”

   She smiled, “Once we are on the plane, yes, but don’t discuss your job, or the location of the facility.”

   “Okay, but can’t we just look out the window and see where we are going?”

   She was an older woman, almost matronly. She smiled once again and said, “The plastic shutters on the windows? They don’t open. I’m not allowed to tell you how long I’ve been at The Facility, but it’s been a while and I have no idea where it is.”

   “Wow, I guess they are taking this stuff pretty serious.”

   “You better believe it. The pay is really good though if they hire you on permanent; especially if they consider you a must have.”

   “Okay, well, I guess I should have brought something to read.”

  She laughed softly, “Yeah, most people catch on really quick; it can get pretty boring in here. I’ve got a bunch of “Do It Yourself” magazines and others on off-grid living if you would like one?”

   “You know, my friend and I talk a lot about that kind of stuff; yeah, could I have one of your off-grid magazines to read?”

   “Sure,” She reached under her seat and pulled out a briefcase she had carried onboard. Leafing through her magazines she pulled one out, “Try this one, it has a good article on building a root cellar.”

   “A root cellar? What’s…”

   “The fun is in the finding out.” She smiled and then returned her briefcase below her seat, “They don’t bother telling people they can have a small carry-on, so keep it in mind. Sometimes the flights can be rather long and boring.”

   “That’s good to know, thanks, I appreciate the advice.”

   “Sure, I’m going to try and sleep if the weather isn’t too rough.”

   “Okay, thanks again.” I was more than a little concerned about the possibility of a rough flight. Yeah, I’ve ridden lots of amusement park rides, hell I’ve probably ridden every one there is in So Cal, but I never did it inside a closed compartment; it was one of the reasons I wanted to be able to see out. It wasn’t long before I heard a couple of thuds, actually I felt the thuds rather than heard them, then the engines began to spin up and you could definitely feel the aircraft start to move. We wound away from the terminal and after several turns, we stopped and waited a few moments before the engines began to again spin up faster and you could sense the buildup of speed. There was a sensation of acceleration and suddenly the front of the aircraft pitched up, the sound and vibration smoothed and we were in the air and climbing. We banked to the left for an extended period of time, then to the right and once again we climbed as the nose of the plane definitely pitched upwards. A few minutes later, the plane leveled out, the engines became quieter and I realized we must be cruising at some unknown altitude. I was really glad I had suffered no discomfort by the maneuvering of the plane and began to the flip the pages of my borrowed magazine.

   After a while, I started to become tired as the words I was reading began to blur, so I placed the magazine I was reading in the slot in the back of the seat before me and leaned back in my seat. Within moments I was asleep.

   I was jolted awake four hours later, by the time of a clock on the wall of the plane, as we seemed to bounce on a runway. The jet engines suddenly whined louder and then louder yet, as I was pushed forward against my seat belt. Startled, I looked across the aisle at Ms. Z; she looked perturbed as she shifted in her seat and braced one hand, with the arm extended against the seat in front of her. Looking across at me she said, “That was a bit rough.”

   “This is only my second time in a plane,” I said. “Does that happen very often?”

   “No, in fact, usually the landings are much smoother, but we probably have a stiff crosswind on the runway. Normally they warn us ahead of time.” She dropped her arm and wiggled her bottom to a more comfortable position. “They used to use nothing but turbo-props and believe you me, the vibration in those things will flat numb your ass until it feels like your lower back is burning. Those used to bounce really good in even moderate crosswinds.”

   “Really?” I asked.

   She nodded, but didn’t answer as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, “We will be topping off our fuel tanks here, so when the plane rolls to a complete stop you may visit the lavatory. There will be snacks and water made available. For those inclined, there will also be coffee, tea, and hot broth, either beef or chicken also available. Please remain seated until the aircraft is completely stopped.”

   The door we had entered from was opened and a young Hispanic woman entered and asked each of us what we would like as a refreshment. I chose chicken broth because I didn’t want any caffeine that might keep me awake for the remainder of the flight. Within a few minutes we had all been served and the exit was again closed. We waited, and then waited some more until Ms. Z said, “I think something is wrong; we never wait this long just to be refueled.”

   “I’ve noticed some sounds coming from the left side of the plane and I swear we seem to have tilted a bit to the right side.”

   From the seat in front of me, I heard a man’s voice say, “That was a rough landing, I bet the tire or landing gear was damaged.”

   I started getting a bit nervous, “You think so?”

“Yeah, it’s happened before, so no need to sweat it. If they can’t fix it quickly, they’ll deplane us and either put us on another plane, or bus. They put us on a train a year or so back, but they had a hard time keeping the windows blacked out with curtains and other passengers kept trying to enter the car they reserved for us.”

   Again, the pilot spoke to us over the intercom, “This is the pilot, it looks like we may be here for a short time, we have notified the Facility and they are making arrangements for a meal to be prepared for you and brought to the plane. Please be patient.”

   I decided to continue reading to pass the time. After another hour, the exit door again opened and the same Hispanic girl from earlier entered with two other helpers. They had bags and trays holding an assortment of burgers and soft drinks. They had no sooner finished handing out the meal when again the pilot spoke, “Alright, we have been cleared to continue our trip. Please put on your seat belts and remain seated until we are again in flight.”

   I was almost done with my hamburger when we began to move again and then accelerated into the sky. One hour and ten minutes later we began our descent and landed.

   I was surprised when we exited the plane, barely past the wing tip was your typical shuttle bus waiting for us to load ourselves within. Our luggage was quickly removed from the plane and stuffed into the baggage bay of the bus. One by one, we stepped onto the bus and took our seats much the way we had on the plane; the front seats first and then the rest of the seats as we filed back. The bus could have carried almost twice the twelve people we were. I was looking forward to finally being able to see out, but once again, the windows were covered. Not only were the windows covered, but once we were on the bus and seated, a curtain was drawn that removed our view through the front windshield. After sitting down, I began rereading the magazine I had been loaned by Ms. Z.

   I read through the magazine from front cover to back and having finished it I stood up, moved to where Ms. Z sat, and returned the magazine to her and thanked her for its use. “Any idea when we’ll reach our destination?”

   “About another hour and a half if the weather has been good and the roads are clear.”

   I thanked her again and returned to my seat.

   It was mid-morning when we pulled to a stop and our driver spoke to someone outside the bus. After that we pulled forward at a much-reduced speed until once again, we stopped and the driver shut-off the bus. Everyone stood up and began to file off and I followed suit. Once I stepped off, I looked around and tried to familiarize myself with the surroundings. We were parked in front of a large patio type affair that fronted what appeared to be a set of double doors placed within a concrete wall. The wall itself was embedded in the face of a steep mountain, which was covered with tall pine trees. The air was crisp and bordering on too cool, so I figured we were at a much higher altitude than the one we had left in Burbank.

   All of my fellow passengers headed for the double doors and started passing through, so I decided that was what we were supposed to do, but the driver called me back, “Mister Smith?”

   “Yes.”

   “There will be someone here shortly to escort you inside.”

   “Oh, okay, uh…” I trailed off with the hope he would part with a little more information.

   He smiled at my discomfort, “Yeah, I have never agreed with the way they bring new folks in. They unnecessarily leave people in the dark for too long.”

   “You got that right.”

   He chuckled and then pointed towards the double doors, “This is probably who you’re waiting for.”

   A man about my own age, was quickly walking towards me. “Daniel Smith?” He smiled as he extended his hand to shake, “Dak Sorensen, sorry for the delay, I was held up in a meeting.”

   I shook his hand, “That’s alright. Will I need to carry my bag in, or do you have a baggage cart?”

   “You’ll have to carry your bag in, but once we are inside there is an electric golf cart that I will use to transport you and your bag to your quarters.”

   I bent over and picking up my duffel, I tossed it up on my shoulder, “Good enough, let’s go.”

   When he said “golf cart” he actually meant, golf cart. I dropped my duffel in the back and sat down before he drove away down a long wide concrete corridor. I looked up at the high ceiling and though I was looking carefully, it took me a few moments to recognize the fire sprinklers that were already installed. “This corridor already has sprinklers.”

   “Of course,” he answered. “We’re driving through Phase One right now and your quarters are in Phase Two.”

   “Phase Two?”

“Yeah, because the Facility is so large, it was built in phases; there are six of them and the contract your company holds is Phase Six. You’re lucky, during the construction of P-1 and P-2 the construction crews were housed in tents up where the new airport is located.”

   “Airport? If there is an airport, why did the plane I flew in land so far away?”

  He laughed before saying, “Well, let’s just say some of the people assigned here are somewhat more important than others and demand to be treated in a manner commensurate with their positions.”

   “More commensurate with their importance, or more commensurate with their perception of their importance?”

   He laughed again, “I think I’m going to like you, but I’m not touching that with a ten-foot-pole, if you catch my meaning.”

   I smiled and said, “In other words, when I meet an important person, make sure I don’t wrinkle anyone’s finish?”

   “Exactly. This project is incredibly expensive and in order to keep costs down and within budget, the powers that be decided to offer spaces to people who had a great deal of money to spend, so yeah, don’t wrinkle finishes.”

   “Gotcha.”

   Turning a corner, he started up a slight incline that passed through a huge metal door painted with the designation P-2. It was large enough for an eighteen-wheeler to drive through. “Damn! The only door I’ve seen like that one is the one at the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain.”

   “Actually, the door we just passed through is larger than the one at Cheyenne.”

   “No kidding, so I take it P-1 is smaller than P-2?”

   “Actually, no, P-1 holds all of the various different engineering shops, like Electricians, Plumbers, Pipefitters,” he nodded towards me as he said, “Fire Protection, HVAC, and so forth. It also holds all of the warehouses and storage areas, plus the EXSEC Bunker.”

   “EXSEC?”

   “External Security.”

   “Oh, so they are sort of the police or security guys?”

   “No, INSEC takes care of any policing or security concerns within the Facility. EXSEC provides security for the outside. Technically, EXSEC is a part of INSEC, but because their job is quite a bit different from INSEC it operates pretty much separate. You’ll meet Lieutenant Packer and Major Phillips in the next few days, Phillips was in command of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Teams before he accepted a job here and Packer was an Army Ranger. When he retired, he applied for a job and they liked him so well, they put him in command of EXSEC.”

   “Sounds like both of them are well-qualified.”

   “They are, but then just about everyone that works here and have been hired on permanently are well-qualified.” He turned down another corridor and I started seeing more people either walking or driving golf carts. “We’re almost there,” he said.

   “Are you a permanent hire?”

   He smiled as he gave me a quick look and then waved to someone we passed and they shouted a greeting. “Yes, I am.”

   “I was warned on the plane not to ask about people’s jobs.”

   “No, it’s not a good idea as far as security goes, but you’re going to learn about the people you work around anyway. I’m with Human Resources and Warehousing; almost all of the permanent hires are involved with at least two different employment areas. Sort of a built-in redundancy factor. In college I studied Business Psychology and Hotel Management; I got a degree in both fields.”

   “Double major?” If so, I was impressed.

   “Yeah, in fact I was the person that checked your credentials when your name came through. By-the-way, I have a question for you concerning the classes you have been taking.”

   “Okay.”

   “You are a double major also, History and Communication Studies, why combine those two?”

   I shrugged, “History is interesting and it’s the result of, or the lack of, communication.”

   “Ah, okay,” he said as he pulled to a stop in front of a door. “I looked over your classes and I think I saw some emphasis in both fields. For History I noticed what I believe was Genocide?”

   I nodded.

   “And for Comm Studies the emphasis was Intercultural Communication?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Okay, that’s kind of what I thought, but it just seemed strange. Thanks for clarifying that for me.” He slowed the cart and then parked in front of one of many doors in a concrete cinder block wall.

   “So, are these my quarters?” Above the door, there was a series of letters and numbers, Ph2L2-61.

   “Yeah,” he said as he slipped out of golf cart while waving a set of keys. Pointing at the stenciled characters, he said “Phase Two, Level Two, Room Sixty-One. Come on and I’ll give you the tour.”

   I grabbed my bag from the cart and followed him to the door. “Does everyone new get this kind of service?”

   “Only the management staff, which as Supervisor for the Fire Protection Crew, you are.”

   “I assumed I would be living in a barracks type environment,” I said as he unlocked the door that I noticed was steel.

   “Most of the workers do stay in a set of barracks that are job centered. Plumbers in one wing, pipefitters, etc., foremen and sometimes leadoff guys have their own rooms in the barracks, but Supervisors have their own apartment.” He pushed the door in and walked past me into the room.

   I followed and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t necessarily a large set of rooms, but it beat the crap out of what I had originally expected. The room we entered was around twelve by fifteen feet; obviously the living-room, it contained a couch, two padded chairs that looked like they would be comfortable, a coffee table, and a low cabinet between the two chairs. On the wall was an entertainment center with a wall mounted flat screen TV, DVD player and stereo. The living-room was to the right of the door. To the left was a waist-high counter and then an entrance into the dining-room/kitchen. A small circular table with four chairs was first and then the kitchen with a small two burner stove and oven, all-electric, and a small refrigerator against the left wall. On the right wall was a sink, counter with drawers and above the counter was a series of small cabinets. Surprisingly, all the cabinets, cupboards countertops and appliances were stainless steel. Down a short hall straight in from the entrance was a bathroom and walk-in closet to the left and a bedroom to the right. The bedroom was smaller than the living-room, but contained a twin-size bed, and two nightstands, there was also an additional door in the back wall. Not bad and like I said before, much more than I expected.

   “Nice,” I said.

   “Yeah, they’re nothing like one of the VIP Suites, but they’ll do. Feel free to bring in your own furniture if you want and the stand between the two recliners in the living-room has USP ports as well as Internet hookups if you need them.”

   “Cool.”

   “On the table is a welcome pamphlet that explains meal periods, maps, and an explanation of all the paint stripes you probably saw on the floors outside. Make sure you read it thoroughly; it will answer a lot of your questions. Did you notice the phone beside the first upper cabinet in the kitchen?”

   “No,” I said as I walked back to the kitchen. It was stainless also; probably why I missed it.

   “It has the number printed on the side; make sure you write it down in case someone wants your private number.” He took a quick look around before saying, “That’s about it, the motor pool will bring you a cart for your personal use; this place is huge, so don’t hesitate to use it. Any questions I can answer before I take off?”

   “When will I be expected to actually start working?”

   “Ah, tomorrow at ten AM there will be a meeting at the Main Construction Office in P-1 to start coordinating Phase Six, you’ll be expected to be there.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “If you have any question call me, okay?”

   “Thanks, I’ll probably have a few.”

   “No problem, oh, the rear door uses the same key as the front door.” He handed me the key to the apartment and with a quick wave walked out the front door.

   The first thing I did was carry my duffel bag to the closet and begin hanging my clothes up. Then I placed the rest of my belongings in the closet, night stands or bathroom. I found towels and wash cloths in the bathroom with directions to place soiled laundry in a receptacle outside the back door. The final thing I put away was my Ruger P89 pistol and spare mags; I placed those in the night stand beside the bed. With everything done, I automatically reached for my cell phone and remembered, no cell phones allowed. Then it struck me, I, like many people, used my phone as my watch, alarm clock, et cetera. I had no way to tell time within the facility.

   I picked up the in-house phone and dialed “O”, “This is Central Communications, may I be of assistance?”

   “Oh, sorry, this is my first day at the Facility and I just realized I do not have an alarm clock, is there somewhere I can acquire one?”

   “I assume you haven’t read the Welcome Pamphlet yet?”

   “No, I haven’t.”

   She chuckled, “Take the time to sit down and read it, you’ll save yourself a lot of frustration if you do, but to address the immediate situation, there is an extensive Facility Exchange in Phase 3 where you can purchase items and I know for a fact they have alarm clocks.”

   “Oh, okay, I guess I’ll do that now then; thanks for your help.”

   “Yes, Sir, goodbye.”

   I hung up the phone and picked up the pamphlet, time to do some reading. Most of the information in the little booklet was surface info and not very helpful, but it did tell me how to access more in-depth information through the in-house technology center. All I had to do was turn on the TV, go to channel 150 and scroll through the menu. I did and spent the next two hours mesmerized by the amount of info that was available. There was even a map of the complete underground complex that could be expanded for closeup views of all the phases, both those occupied and Phase 6 still under construction. Then I discovered that if I punched in my starting point and then typed in the number of the room I wanted to go to, it would show me a path on the map to follow, but it was also capable of providing me with a three dimensional computer Generated recording that simulated driving a golf cart, or walking to where you wanted to go. By the time I was done, I knew exactly where the Construction Office was and how to get there, but also where the Facility Exchange was, where the Cafeteria was and several other places I might need to go to in the near future. The people in charge had a pretty well thought out system to find your way around.

   I shut down the TV and prepared to go to the bathroom when the lights in the apartment suddenly dimmed, dimmed lower yet, and then went completely out. I was startled by how intensely dark it became. I mean, dark, as in total blackness. I raised my hand up and couldn’t even see a vague outline of it. Shit. Standing up, I started to slowly move towards where I thought the hall to the bedroom was until my hand felt it. Then I moved down the hall as my fingertips traced the surface to the bedroom door. Entering the room, I continued to slide my fingertips along the surface with my left hand out before me until I reached the back wall. From there, I slid sideways until my left foot encountered the night stand. Bending over, I opened the top drawer and felt around until my fingers found the small flashlight I had left there while unpacking my duffel bag. Switching it on, I shined it around the room after taking a deep breath and letting it out. I’m not afraid of the dark, but what I experienced was far beyond dark.

   Returning to the nightstand, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a pouch for the flashlight, my multi-tool, and the large pocket knife I had been carrying for years. I laid the items on the bed and then stripped my belt from the loops of my pants. I slid the pouch for the flashlight on to the belt and then the multi-tool before re-threading the belt through the belt loops of my pants. The knife I slid into my right front pocket of my pants. As long as I was here at the Facility, I would never, ever, be out of reach of a light.

   Then, of course, the lights came back on.