The Old One's Rise Chapter 2

Three days ago, Jackson Cross didn’t exist anymore, and now he was on a Chinook over the Pacific Ocean. They’d been in the air for a couple of hours when the pilot told him and the handful of the crew they were nearing Aero One. Jackson opened his eyes, catching one of the other passengers eyeing him. He woke up groggy from the jet lag of being pulled from one side of the world to another.

Jackson snuck up near the cockpit to get an eyeball on the rig. Reading about the monstrosity was nowhere near as impressive as seeing it firsthand. His first thought was that the rig was a monster. They were still a quarter to a half-mile out from the rig. Standing in the middle of the ocean as a single structure, Aero One was enormous.

The pilot cautioned everybody to buckle up. The winds were stiff as they made their approach to the pad. Jackson took his seat as the passenger across from him smiled.

“First time landing on a rig?” asked the woman.

“Yeah, I guess so,” answered Jackson as he tried to figure out the woman’s story.

“What about you?” he asked her.

“Me, hardly. I’m Doctor Annette Harvey, and this is my sixth rotation out here,” she chuckled. “But you can call me Anne.”

“I’m Jax,” he told her.

The back-and-forth banter between new friends would have to wait. The chopper set down on the pad rather roughly. As the pilot shut the engine down, the passengers gathered their bags. Jackson noticed a small entourage waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs to the pad. The pilot was already talking to the leader of the small group.

Jackson and the other passengers followed an escort off the pad. The rig boss greeted Jackson while the rest of the passengers split off, two to security and the doctor to medical. Jackson smiled at Doctor Harvey, telling her he’d catch up to her later.

“You’re Cross?” asked the boss.

“That’s me. Who are you?”

“Jonah, Jonah Hodges. I’m in charge of Aero One.”

Jackson looked him up and down. He wasn’t what Jackson expected he would be. Hodges looked more like a politician than he did a sea rig commander. As Hodges held his hand out, Jackson felt the rough, calloused hands of a man who had worked hard for a long time. The calloused hand on Jonah Hodges put Jackson at ease.

“This is an impressive setup,” admitted Jackson. “It’s hard to imagine this is a safe place to hide a detention center.”

Jonah chuckled. The thought of Jackson thinking the rig was the detention center amused him.

“George didn’t fill you in on the finer details of the rig? Where you’re going is a separate world from the rig,” explained Jonah. “Follow me. I’ll show you your quarters, and we’ll get you into the detention center. I’m sure you’re anxious to get eyes on your project.”

Jonah led Jackson across the upper level to the turbo-lifts. The lifts dropped from the upper deck into the ocean. Jonah gave his pitch to Jackson, telling him all the amenities and the purpose of the different levels they passed on the way to the fourth level. Level 4D was one away from the bottom. As they hit the water, Jackson was amazed. He could see fish, two sharks, and the world below sea level.

When they got to 4D, Jonah led Jackson off the lift and toward the end of a corridor. From the center of deck 4, Jackson and Jonah walked a hundred paces. They turned and were on the exterior side of the level. They were far enough down that the soft exterior lights made it possible to view the bottom.

“How deep are we?” Jackson asked, pinching his nose to equalize the pressure.

“We’re at 800 feet, and don’t worry about the pressure. Your body will get accustomed to the changes the longer you’re with us,” explained Jonah.

Jonah stopped and slid a key card into a slot. The door whisked to the side, revealing a reasonably sized living space. Jackson followed as Jonah stepped inside and pointed to all of the amenities. The living quarters he was assigned were as spacious as most suites. There was a kitchenette complete with a refrigerator, stove, and microwave.

“It’s not much, but we have included cutlery and dishware for six,” Jonah advised, opening the cupboards. “There’s bottled water, light refreshments, and some essentials.”

“You guys think of everything,” Jackson admitted.

“You haven’t seen the best part,” Jonah told him as he turned on some light.

Jonah was standing in the middle of a living area with an overstuffed sofa, two chairs, and a flat screen. In the center of the coffee table was a laptop with the passcodes written on a post-it.

Jackson dropped his bags and shook his head. If he was going to be stuck somewhere on an assignment, this was a decent place to stay. He’d certainly had worse accommodations. Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Bosnia, Panama, Cartegna, and the list went on in his head. None of them were as posh as this.

“Alright, I’m impressed. How about the rest of the tour,” he suggested.

“The detention center?”

“That is why Ramos recruited me,” answered Jackson.

The two returned to the lifts and went down one more level. On the fifth level, 5D, Jackson met two security staff at the entrance. 5D was the highest security level at Aero One. Gaining entry required three things, a code key with clearance, a retinal scan, and a palm print scan. It took fifteen minutes for the security staff to get Jackson logged in the first time.

Jonah introduced Jax as Professor Jackson Cross. He had them set his clearances as top secret. It gave Jackson 24/7 access to the entire floor. Jonah told the two sentries they were going to see the prisoner.

“Enjoy the horror show,” they told Jackson.

That’s encouraging, thought Jackson. Jonah led him to the detention cell unit. Half of 5D was a detention unit constructed to hold the world’s most dangerous prisoners. The entire thing was a black site built to hold high-profile terrorists.

“How many are here?” asked Jackson.

“Just the one,” answered Jonah.

They stepped into the detention area, using the palm print scanner to gain access. The detention unit had a cell in the center. It was a large, circular, glassed room with steel girders. A box stood in the center of the room, connected between the floor and the ceiling. They lowered the walls to get eyes on the prisoner.

“This truly is a secure unit,” Jackson said, surprised.

“How much did George tell you about the subject?” asked Jonah.

“He showed me the basics. That was enough,” Jackson replied.

“I figured. George’s known for holding back,” sighed Jonah.

Jonah pressed a button on the side of the wall, causing the walls to lower into the floor. As the walls dropped from sight, a chained figure appeared in the center of the room. It lay on a small bunk, chains connected to its feet.

“Geez,” sighed Jackson. “Is all that really necessary?”

“You haven’t seen what this thing can do,” he replied. “Trust me. She isn’t as docile as she looks,” Jonah answered, pressing a button.

When Jonah pressed the button, it turned the platform, and the prisoner faced them. Jackson stood there, his mouth agape, as she turned to face him. The prisoner they were so petrified of was a teenage girl. She couldn’t be more than seventeen years old. Jackson wondered if the file Ramos showed him was the complete story. Something about this scene didn’t make sense.

“That bastard Ramos didn’t tell me it was a kid,” Jackson angrily said.

He should never have trusted George Ramos. He should never have trusted an agency tool like George. He was already there, but now he wasn’t sure why.

“Go ahead, introduce yourself,” suggested Jonah.

Jackson didn’t know what to say to the girl. She seemed like any other teenager he ever saw. Her face was pale, presumably from the lack of sunlight. Her eyes were sad, sad, and cold looking. When he stepped up to the intercom, she looked right through him.

“I’m Professor Jackson Cross. You may call me Jax. They want me to interview you, to find answers as to who you are,” explained Jackson.

Jackson stood there, waiting for a response. As she looked at him and Jonah, seeing the two men, she moved forward as far as the chains would allow.

“Do you think you could communicate with me?” Jackson asked.

Jonah and Jackson were both surprised when the girl nodded at them. She almost smiled at the idea of spending time with Jackson. Jackson nodded at her, then turned to Jonah Hodges. He didn’t like the way they were keeping her.

“Is this thing as solid as it looks?” he asked.

“This was built strong enough to withstand a tactical nuclear weapon,” admitted Jonah.

“Then pull the chains. I’m sure those cuffs are controlled remotely, like everything else.”

Jonah considered ignoring the request. But George Ramos told him that while on Aero One, Jackson was in charge of the girl's security and the detention center. It was a bad idea, but he knew his choices were limited.

“Are you certain? That might be a mistake,” said Jonah.

Jackson ordered him to open the cuffs, so Jonah went to the controls and entered the code to disarm the restraints. The cuffs opened, falling to the floor with a clanging sound. The girl stood up, stretching freely for the first time in many days. She reached her arms up high and arched her back, taking a deep breath. The freedom felt good, even if it was only being able to walk around inside the cell.

Jackson watched as she approached him and Jonah. She stood at the side of the cell, staring at Jackson.

“Thank you, Jax.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe the freedom will make you more comfortable. While I’m at it, there’s very sketchy records on you. I don’t even know what to call you,” said Jackson.

She put her hand up to the glass. Jackson took it as an invite. They couldn’t make contact through the barrier, but he needed to show some trust if he was going to develop a relationship with the girl. Jackson put his hand on the glass, matching it to hers. Tomorrow he would start the interviews. Tomorrow, he would be the interrogator.

“I haven’t heard my name in more than a millenia,” said the girl. “Pick something to call me, but make it pretty.”

Jonah told Jackson that they should go. They were risking an outburst by exposing her to too many stimuli all at once. The two men departed the detention center, Jackson turning and waving at the prisoner before they were out of sight. Jonah took Jackson back to level four and left him at the door of his quarters. Jackson had more than a night’s worth of information to go over, videotape footage, and reports from the British. Jackson knew he had a lot of homework before he would successfully break the girl.

There were great choices in the wet bar. The bottle of Macallan was his favorite, although he barely had opportunities to enjoy a glass. Pouring a scotch, Jackson sat down and started through the files on the girl. The earliest one was dated 1893.

Investigative Log, March 13th, 1893

Inspector Cornett and I have been watching a subject of interest. We haven’t established anything more than circumstance, but she’s appeared at or near the scene of seven homicides. We believe the girl's name is Leelee. We know very little else.

Investigative Log, March 14th, 1893

We just surveyed the scene of another murder. The sailor, a man in his 30’s, was butchered. The poor bloke was hollowed out.

“Jesus,” sighed Jackson, his eyes getting heavy as he read through all the files.

Jackson looked at the pictures of the crime scenes. After years in Afghanistan, Iraq, Bosnia, and every other theater of war over fifteen years, he had never seen such brutality. Jackson brought a level of brutality with him during his last mission when he unleashed an unholy vengeance on the world. What he was reading, what he was looking at, was unparalleled by even his worst days.

After making it through six files, and the video of the outburst before her transfer Jackson had more questions than answers. If she’d been incarcerated in the late 19th century, how was she still alive?

He wrote LeeLee on a scrap of paper before going to bed. Tomorrow he would start trying to study the girl, and hopefully find answers to what she is and where she came from. Now, he needed to sleep.

Down in the detention center LeeLee was laying on her bunk staring at the ceiling of her cell. The guards saw her muttering something, but weren’t able to make out what she was saying. As they watched from the security station, LeeLee continued the garbled speech as she carried on, her voice soft and barely audible.

“What’s she doing?” Jeff asked his partner.

“I don’t know. Maybe she talks in her sleep,” answered Randy.

As they watched, LeeLee started to run her hands over her body. She muttered a name, but it came out in a language they couldn’t understand. She was in a deep trance, barely there, as they watched her hands roaming seductively over her body. She moved her hands under her prison top, feeling herself. Her breathing began getting labored. Her body convulsed and she began perspiring.

LeeLee could see farther than the confines of her cell. She could see further than any other man or woman on the rig. It was a gift she possessed since birth. She stared at the ceiling, seeing the face of an invisible force on top of her youthful body. She lured the man there.

LeeLee looked into the future. He was someone she could use to her advantage. He was manipulable and void of any morals. He would get her anything she asked. When she was done, she could already see how their time would end. While he was mounting her, she will reach behind her and pull out a blade. The blade would slice through his throat cleanly, catching him by surprise. The blood spray would cover her face as his blood poured down his neck, his body slumping against hers.

“Delicious!” she screamed out, strangely in ecstasy.

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