NORMIE [Chapter 5]
The fifth chapter of NORMIE, a novel by C.S.M.
Welcome back to NORMIE, a dystopian novel by C.S.M.
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Here is Chapter 5:
Jack charged through the shadowed tunnel. The rushing sound of the incoming train swelled behind him. Gravel crunched under his feet as he moved back toward the dim light of the station platform. But could he reach it in time?
It’s too far. There’s no way.
Jack zig-zagged from one side of the tunnel to the other, reaching his hands out and feeling the concrete walls. The tunnel was incredibly narrow, just large enough for the train to pass through. He felt for some kind of open space he could escape to, but found none. The train was going to run right over him.
Where did the White Rabbit go?
Jack had followed the White Rabbit into the tunnel with the hope of returning the thumb drive. He peered over his shoulder as he continued sprinting toward the platform. Two headlights cut through the darkness, unobstructed by anyone further along the passage. The White Rabbit has vanished completely.
The safety of the platform was still far out of reach.
The rushing of the train behind him overtook his senses.
This was the end.
Jack’s feet carried him onward, but he knew that he only had moments left.
Then his eyes began playing with him.
Further along the tunnel, between Jack and the platform, a narrow strand of light appeared along one of the concrete walls. Jack strained his eyes and the strand of light grew wider. Some kind of door had been opened along the tunnel. A figure looked back at him from the opening. It was cast in deep shadow, but he could barely see the long ears of the white rabbit mask.
Jack didn’t have time to look back at the train. He pushed forward, barreling toward the opening in the wall as the sounds of the incoming train blocked out all thought. His breath poured out of him in heavy gasps. The doorway was now a few steps ahead ahead. The light of the train caused the tunnel to glow. He dove for the opening—
Light and shadow collided. His body shot through the doorway and rolled until he struck a wall. Sprawled on his back, he looked through the doorway to the tunnel and saw the train fly past in a blur of windows and doors.
Then darkness.
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The rushing sound died away as the train continued its journey to the station. It was replaced by Jack’s gasps and wheezes as he struggled to get air into his lungs. He was in some kind of chamber built into the side of the tunnel. It smelled damp and earthy. A flashlight was propped further along the wall, casting a yellow cone of light into the stale air. Wood planks were barely visible along the chamber, positioned vertically toward the ceiling.
A shadow moved across the space. The White Rabbit emerged from the darkness and stepped closer to the flashlight, its silhouette cast on the wall behind.
“Who—? Who are you?” Jack muttered through deep breaths.
The White Rabbit ambled to the edge of the chamber and wrenched closed the thick door that led back to the tunnel. The damp smell of the chamber became more apparent, and the drip of water could be heard from somewhere beyond.
Jack was finally catching his breath. “You saved my life.”
The White Rabbit didn’t answer. It turned slowly away from the door and stared down at him.
Jack rubbed the back of his head. He’d struck the side of the chamber harder than he’d thought and was just becoming aware of the great aches he felt across his body. The wood beams across the opposite wall continued onward beyond the reach of the flashlight. The farthest along, barely visible in the glow, appeared to slope downward and continue into the blackness.
“Where are we? What is this place?”
The White Rabbit remained silent, removing its backpack and searching through the front pockets.
Jack laughed to himself, suddenly remembering why he’d been after the White Rabbit in the first place. He sat up and patted his pockets. “I’ve been looking for you. I found it. That’s why I followed you here.”
The White Rabbit dropped its backpack and began moving toward him.
Jack’s fingers enclosed around the thumb drive in his pocket. “Thank God, I still have it. Here it is. I have your—”
The White Rabbit wasn’t listening. It crouched down in front of Jack and aimed a silver capsule at his face. A watery mist shot through the air.
Jack rubbed at his eyes, feeling the chemical odor sting his nostrils. He began coughing violently and his mouth filled with saliva. Through his fingers he could see the White Rabbit staring back at him, cast in shadow within the chamber.
Then everything faded to darkness.
Images danced before him.
Fire roared through ornately decorated halls. Red, white, and blue flags melted in an inferno. A man in a sharp suit was held at gunpoint.
Then, the darkness returned.
I’m dreaming. This whole day has been a dream.
His eyes stung.
Can you feel pain in a dream?
Jack tried to rub his eyelids, but his hand’s wouldn’t budge.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m awake.
His arms were set behind him. He flailed his fingers back and forth and felt the nylon fringes of rope, then the hard plastic of a chair.
He was tied up.
This has to be a dream.
It has to be…
Jack rocked from side to side and felt rope twist against his shins. The way his upper arms cut into the chair meant his coat had been taken off. He wiggled his nose and it brushed against some kind of fabric. Was there light nearby? He couldn’t tell through the thick material. He shivered, listening for any sound that could help identify where he was.
It was silent.
Jack struggled against the ropes; the skin of his wrists burned against the nylon. The chair he was tied to swayed back and forth, the metal stilts groaning against the plastic frame.
“Help!” he screamed. “Help me!”
There was silence, then a voice spoke.
“No one’s coming to help you.”
Jack sat still. Had he heard that voice before? It had a deep resonance that clearly meant his captor was a man. But how old? The gravel to it signified middle-age, or older. It was a powerful voice, not one he would have expected from what little he’d seen of the White Rabbit up close. Its frame had been hidden by a thick flannel, but the voice itself suggested someone of a much larger size.
“Let me go,” Jack said. “I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go and—”
The voice chuckled. “I’m not gonna do that.”
Jack’s throat clenched. “Listen, I don’t know who you are under that mask, but—”
“Well, I know who you are. You’ve been asleep for a little while now. I’ve gone through your things. Nice to meet you, Jack Campbell.”
There was the flapping sound of a leather wallet.
“You work for the regime, huh?” the voice continued. “Nice to see they’re sending their best and brightest.”
“I don’t work for them,” Jack roared, spit flying out of his mouth with each word.
The voice paused before replying mockingly. “This isn’t your Concord Industries ID?” A fingernail flicked against the plastic card. “The government’s favorite weapons manufacturer. You’re on the private side of things, but you still work for them.”
Jack took a deep breath. “Listen to me. Yes, I work at Concord. But I don’t work for them. I would never work for them. I was at Becker Station this morning and saw what happened. I had to find you.”
“I’m sure you did,” the voice said. “Bet they have you and a team of crack detectives on the case, dodging trains in the tunnels.”
Jack battled against the ropes, but was ensnared too tightly in their grasp.
“I have your drive! I just wanted to bring you your drive.”
Silence.
Jack turned his head to the direction his captor had spoken from. “Didn’t you see the broadcast? They think we’re working together. They have the footage from this morning. The emergency broadcast played when I was out at lunch. I just started running. I had to find you.”
Jack’s shoulders dropped and the rope relaxed its grip. His eyes still stung from whatever he’d been sprayed with.
“I read the drive at work this morning,” he continued. “Not all of it. I couldn’t get through all of it. There’s just so much. But it confirmed everything I already knew. I just wouldn’t let myself believe it.”
The voice was low. “And that is?”
“The White House Fire. It didn’t happen like they say it did. Their whole story is a lie. Howard never started that fire.”
The voice replied slowly. “Go on.”
“But you know already! The government, the regime, burned down the White House. They said it was Howard and his supporters, but it wasn’t. That was a lie. The regime framed them and then used the fire as an excuse to change the government. To change everything.”
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Images appeared in the darkness before Jack. He could clearly see the videos, photographs, and documents that were on the thumb drive. They all swirled before him and played out like a movie.
Nathan Howard, dressed in a sharp suit, was held at gunpoint while being escorted through the ornately decorated halls of the White House. He was joined by his wife and two young children. Behind the family, additional police officers held Howard’s small private-security detail at gunpoint.
Words poured out of Jack. “They say Howard stormed the building. But that’s not true. They invited him in. There was a dispute over the previous day’s election, and President Ramsey told him that she wanted to concede. But that was a lie.”
Jack twisted in the chair as the next moments played out before him. Howard was shot in the head. His wife made the sign of the cross before she was shot next. Then the children. Then the four-member security detail, one-by-one.
“They killed Howard. They shot him and made his family watch. Then they killed the family and the security team.”
He saw the final member of the security detail get shot again and again and again. His green tie flapped in the air as his body collapsed onto the floor. Blood poured from the wound and pooled around his head.
“The tie!” Jack screamed.
He saw the blood-stained green tie around the final victim’s neck. Then the tie was pristine again, folded neatly inside a gift box. Soft music played and snow fell gently outside a window.
“That was the tie! He was wearing it!”
The images contorted and wrenched and he saw the group of police officers carrying heavy tanks through the building, dousing everything in chemicals.
“They burned the place down! They blamed Howard and said he wanted to overthrow the government. Never forget 11/7, they said. But it was all a setup.”
Jack saw a police officer smile as he struck a match and tossed it behind him. The group of officers rushed out as the entire place turned to inferno.
“Everything changed. They said we needed to safeguard the system, but it just meant more power for them. We haven’t even had an election since.”
A red, white, and blue flag burned in his mind’s eye.
Then the darkness returned.
Jack was sobbing.
“If you’re going to kill me,” he choked. “Just do it.”
The voice didn’t answer.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Jack shouted. “Just kill me! Get it over with. You saw the broadcast. They know who I am. I’m dead already. And I’d rather die here, wherever we are, then let them have me.”
There was a shuffle from across the room, then the voice spoke low. “How did you know?”
Jack sniffed, his nasal passages clogged by his tears. “How did I know what? It was all on the drive.”
“No, you said the drive confirmed everything you knew. How did you know?”
“How did I know?” Jack took a deep breath. “It was more of a feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
Jack tried to rub his nose but his arms were locked in place. “It’s usually numbness for most of the year, but when the memorials start around the seventh, the feeling gets worse. It gets stronger. I try to fight it as best I can. With alcohol, usually. But it’s always there.”
“But why?”
Jack head dropped. “My dad.”
The green tie appeared in the darkness, stained with blood.
“He worked on Howard’s personal security team. He was there that night and the last of them to get shot. They said he was part of it all. I knew he wasn’t. And now I know for sure.”
There was silence. It seemed to go on forever.
Jack pushed against the ropes, but they still wouldn’t budge. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I’d rather be dead then let them have me.”
The voice was strained. “And your father? What was his name?”
“His name?” Jack looked toward the direction of the speaker. “Martin. Martin Kenway.”
“Go on.”
“What do you want to know? He was military when I was growing up and switched to a private security firm when I was in college. After everything happened, I took my mom’s maiden name. Thought I’d keep my head down and try to acclimate to the new way of of doing things. She’s back home in Kansas. What’s left of her, at least. I guess the habit of drinking away your pain runs in the family.”
An image of his father materialized from the darkness. He was smiling at him, snow falling lightly on the shoulders of his suit jacket. The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in his eyes. Then the side of his head exploded. The green tie was stained with blood.
There was a slight pause, and then the voice laughed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Jack recoiled from the laughter, shaking his head. “Just kill me. That’s what happened.”
“I’m not going to do that,” the voice said. Footsteps clicked back and forth across the room.
“Kill me!” Jack screamed.
“Not happening,” the voice muttered. “You know the grief I’d get in heaven if I killed Marty Kenway’s only child?”
Jack froze. “What did you say?”
The fabric covering Jack’s eyes was lifted away in one quick movement. The sudden appearance of light, though dim, blinded his senses momentarily. A small, windowless room materialized around him. There was a door at the back and several cardboard boxes were dotted across the floor.
Jack, still tied to the chair, looked back at his captor standing behind a plastic table; his belongings were scattered across the top: coat, wallet, earphones, keys, and the thumb drive. The captor still wore the white rabbit mask, but the thick flannel below had been replaced by an olive-green bomber jacket. He’d also seemed to grow considerably.
“I’m not gonna sugar-coat it,” the White Rabbit said from behind the mask. “You’re in some real trouble here, kid. It looks like you’ve got two options. You could try to get out of the District and maybe, maybe, find refuge out west. Or you could stay and help us.”
“Us? What do you mean us?”
“You really have no idea what’s going on. You can help us wake up the city.”
The White Rabbit kicked a box across the floor. It slid toward Jack and stopped at his bound feet. Inside, filled about halfway, was a mound of thumb drives branded with the same symbol: an eye with two rabbit ears.
“There are more drives? I thought there was only the one.”
Another box slid toward him, this one filled about a quarter-way with latex white rabbit masks.
Jack looked the figure in the eyes. “There’s more of you?”
The White Rabbit chuckled. “Like I said, you really have no idea what’s going on.”
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Interesting! I thought it was weird how Jack sort of blurted out a bunch of information about 11/7 while tied up, especially after watching his dad get shot. I would think he would just shut down and be more soft spoken rather than crying out and yelling. Just a thought. Then the rabbit could sort of push the questioning to try to get it out of him, instead of Jack giving it all up so easily.
It’s been hard but I am waiting to read this chapter. I’m just writing the climax and ending to my first novel. Normie, I will read you tomorrow.