Chapter 23: Needle in the Haystacks

“What the hell is this security warning from the lab, Sergeant Thomas?” Colonel Price skipped multiple steps up the staircase, yelling in the direction of his right-hand man in their shared office for answers.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Sergeant Thomas finished, hung up the phone, and removed his sidearm from the bottom drawer in his desk, placing it in the holster at his side at the same time the colonel appeared at the door of the office. “The prisoner escaped after subduing the entire guard squad during his move to the cell.”

The colonel was ready to explode in anger, but he quickly realized yelling at his right-hand man would accomplish nothing. So, after a few calming breaths, he knew what to do next. “Is the extra cart downstairs?” The sergeant nodded. “I’ll make my way to the lab through the tunnel. You take alpha team and make your way posthaste to the lab and find out what happened. Hell, you might get lucky and spot the man on the outside.”

The sergeant, still seated at his desk, typed a few commands into his computer, and an alarm blasted throughout the former library, activating a well-rehearsed set of commands. Five soldiers made their way to the unit armory and out the rear door, toward their allotment of vehicles for official use. The sergeant gave a location for their next stop to the colonel still waiting at the door.

In the office, the phone rang again. The caller id showed the laboratory security office emergency line. The colonel was now calm after his initial upset, but he knew he could go off at any moment. He needed to fight the urge to start yelling.

“This is Colonel Price. Okay, Mr. Johnson, give me a sit rep and then YOU tell me what really happened.”

“Yes, sir. We were in our standard pattern of me in front of the prisoner with three guards to his immediate rear. The prisoner was hooded and shackled on his ankles and wrists. I exited the elevator, and the entire lab was on its security lock down with non-security personnel all locked in their offices or current rooms. Standard operating procedure,” George Johnson explained.

“Of course, continue. Please.”

The tone in the colonel’s voice told George he needed to be ‘matter of fact’ with his report and not veer from the straight forward. It would probably be most helpful to answer any questions succinctly. “I was the first to exit the elevator and I made my way into the hall toward the security office. I was going to open the cell door so, when the prisoner and the others got there, he would just go in without having to wait at all. That’s the same way we have been doing this since we first started transporting to you, sir.

“I turned the corner, and then I heard a commotion, so I turned back toward everyone. I saw the prisoner now free from his shackles, hurling one man into the wall, and punching the other squarely in the jaw. The first guard was already on the floor. I aimed my shotgun at the prisoner, and he asked me not to shoot him. I ordered him back on the floor with his hands behind his back. I stepped around into the hall for more room. When I stepped, he stepped and, eventually, I saw he was trying to get to me, so I pulled the trigger and, at the same time, he actually caught the barrel and pointed it up at the ceiling and, in the same motion, he yanked the shotgun straight out of my hands. He flung the gun down the hall where neither of us could reach it. I then tried to get him back under control and maybe knock him out myself. I’m ashamed to say he was much stronger and quicker than he seemed. He knocked me out, and fled.”

“Are you or any of the boys injured?”

“No, sir, nothing too severe ... I hope. Kennedy may need his jaw wired shut for a while, but he’ll live.”

“Good. Continue.”

“I woke up groggy, and Smith was standing over me. He told me he’d just got up and went to the office to phone in the escape. They would not take his word for it since he was not the supervisor. We both checked the others, and that’s when I saw a wallet on the floor. It was mine, and the cash was gone. I checked my pockets, and my car keys were also missing. The others checked themselves, and they were also cleaned out. Sir, I’m not entirely sure how long we were down, but the time logs from when I arrived at our end of the tunnel to now show the subject escaped with at least a twelve to fifteen minute head start.”

“Okay, Johnson. Sit tight. Sergeant Thomas and alpha squad are on the way and should reach you shortly. I’m going to make my way over through the tunnel and will be there soon, myself. Keep the lab on lock down but be ready to let the team in through the main entrance. I’ll meet you back at the security office in a few.”

“Yes, sir. Sounds like a plan.”

“And Johnson, don’t worry. I’ll bet he has been planning this for a while. We’ll catch him soon enough, and I’ll let you and your boys in on a little payback, if you’d like.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll let my team know.”

Tim’s drive off the base was anticlimactic. The only sense that anything was any different was the guard on duty declaring to the green, four-door, military sedan ahead of Tim, “Yeah, they just tore outta here! Three Jeep Comanches with military personnel in them raced out like they were trying to get to the doughnut shop before it closed!” The driver in the car as well as the other guards really liked that joke for some reason.

Tim Murphy was now free from government captivity, and he needed a new plan. He had the car left for him by his friend and mentor from what seemed another life, he had a plan set up for his continued evasion of the authorities, and he had an ace in the hole – no one knew anything about the nanites coursing throughout his body. However, he needed time! Time for the nanites to alter his body enough to get the authorities off his scent. He needed to find someplace secure enough for him to hide out for at least three days, while the nanites did their ‘remodeling.’ A no-tell motel would do the trick – pay for a week with cash, and they ask no questions.

“Damn. That’s almost mesmerizing.”

“What do you mean, JT?” Colonel Price looked up from the computer screen and asked his right-hand man with a confused look on his face.

“Seeing someone that size move that quick and with that much strength and speed. I’m actually a little impressed. I never would have thought that giant tub of lard we’ve been beating on for months would have been capable of something like that.”

The colonel nodded in agreement. “Yeah. To tell you the truth John, I’m kinda impressed with the guard, Johnson. He was move-for-move with that guy until the strength and speed caught up to him.” Now the sergeant had to nod his agreement. “I wonder how much trouble we would have had taking on an assault from that ‘giant tub of lard, ‘ as you put it.”

The colonel took a moment and reset the video in the computer to watch again. “Do you think he had anything to do with this?” The colonel was pointing at an employee-of-the-month certificate framed on the wall with George Johnson on the recipient line.

The sergeant pointed at the computer and gestured for the colonel to run the video of the escape once again. “Actually, no, I don’t think he had anything to do with it. Frankly, I’m surprised that none of them were killed during the escape. Any of us in this predicament would not have paused for a moment to not kill anyone in our way, but you can tell, from the punches and throws, that that fat fuck just wanted to escape, not kill.” The colonel nodded his agreement. “Besides, I’m just as impressed with George as you are. He certainly was game for a while, and it did not look like he was trying to make it look like he wanted to lose. If anything, I’ll bet that he tried his hardest to stop him. But, come on, Kevin, I’m more worried about what this guy would do to us if we catch up to him. Did you see the crater in the wall where he threw that guy? Damn, I’ll bet that hurt.”

Both men were tittering when one of the teams they sent out to track down their fugitive radioed in with an update.

“Go ahead, this is Sergeant Thomas,” he said, activating the talk button on the box looped onto his belt. Both Sgt. Thomas and Col. Price were wearing the same piece of radio technology, and both were listening to the same reports coming in from the field. The teams were built up from men in the CID-SI as well as men from the post’s military police contingent. The teams were created roughly an hour after the first report of escape was made. The teams were then increased in size using the MPs when the initial tries to find their fugitive failed.

“Sergeant,” said the person calling in the report, one of the MP-filled search teams. There were no members of the CID-SI with that team. “We found the Kia Sedona van from your call alert earlier tonight. It is parked under the large oak tree in the parking lot of the base chapel. The chaplain called in a strange vehicle in the parking lot. No one noticed it until now since, at this time of night, the lot is usually empty.”

Both men hit their respective talk buttons at virtually the same time, “Repeat that location, soldier.”

“Affirmative, sirs – the base chapel parking lot. The van matches the descriptions and, yes, the plates match the ones on your alert.”

The colonel held his hand up to the sergeant to keep him from talking. The sergeant removed his hand from his belt button. “Good job, soldier. Stand fast and hold the area. We are sending CID-SI to investigate. Make sure no one else enters the immediate area. Do you have the man who called it in still there for interrogation?”

“Affirmative, sir. He pointed the van out to us when we arrived.”

“Okay, CID-SI are on their way.”

The colonel stood up quickly and headed to the cart to drive out to the parking lot of the chapel. When he was almost out the door, he stopped and closed the door again with just himself and the sergeant still inside. “JT, is that parking lot where I think that parking lot is?”

The sergeant stood up straight, and looked his superior officer right in the eye. “Yes, sir. It is the large parking lot visible from the back door of our HQ.”

The colonel took a moment to gather up his anger to keep from exploding on the next person he saw. After a few breathing exercises, he turned the doorknob and, while opening the door calmly, looked at his friend and right-hand man. “You drive. I might plow us into a tree.” They both jogged out toward the front door exit of the laboratory where the cart was waiting.

“How much for a week?” Tim asked.

The clerk pulled his eyes away from the paper, took in the man in front of the desk, and quoted, “Forty-nine bucks a night. We don’t usually get people wanting to stay here much longer that that.” He smiled at his own joke then pulled his eyes away from the newspaper he was reading and repeated, “Forty-nine a night. You can arrange for longer in the morning, when the owner comes in. He might be willing to give you a discount if you want.”

“Tell you what, man, I’ll pay per night. No need to try to get a discount. When is checkout?”

The man went back to his paper. “Ten in the morning. Everyone clears out. You can re-up then or work out a deal with the owner. It’s all on you, buddy.”

Tim Murphy reached into his right pocket. He had already pulled out $50 from the $485 dollars he’d taken from the guards when he made his escape. He passed the $50 bill under the glass, and the man looked up from his paper again. “You want a room up front or in the back where no one asks questions or complains about the neighbors?”

“Is the front much better?”

The cashier smiled broadly. “Not really. But the dealers out back keep the crackheads away from the lights in the front. I guess you can consider them cockroaches. Lights come on, and they scatter.”

Tim smiled. “I’ll take a room out front, please.”

The attendant passed a key card under the glass and reminded him about the morning checkout time.

Tim made his way up a staircase and out onto the porch hallway of outside entrance rooms all along the front of the hotel he chose from the highway. He was about fifteen miles away from the base, but was no longer on I-35 heading northbound. Tim had driven north until I-35 met up with Loop 1604. This loop surrounds San Antonio’s north side and is usually where the wealthier people of the city lived. However, instead of taking the loop toward the north side of the city, Tim had turned east and made his way in-between several smaller towns just outside of San Antonio proper.

He’d picked a seedy looking hotel that promoted the daily special on a cracked electric sign out front. When he pulled into the parking lot, it was easy to tell most people went toward the back to visit whatever lowlifes did their business there, but he could see the front was well lit, and there was even a security guard of sorts walking along the front. In fact, when Tim drove up to the manager’s office and got out of the car, he heard the guard announce he was off on another tour of the front.

Tim parked the Grand Marquis right in front of his room and made his way up the stairs with the few bags of food he had just bought. He didn’t see anyone else on his second trip to the room. He unlocked the door and told the nanites to increase his strength to fight off any possible burglar who may have jumped into the room after his initial once-over. Luckily, no worries emerged, and Tim locked the door after putting down his groceries. Finally, he sat down on the bed and had his first really deep breath since his escape.

“Wow. I’m beat. Hey guys, make sure to wake me up at nine in the morning so I can go see the owner and pay for enough time to stay for you to transform me to a more normal-looking person.”

“Of course, Tim. Shall we help you fall asleep?” text appeared, printed across the bottom of his eyesight.

“In a few minutes. Let me put this stuff away and maybe throw some water on my face and watch a little TV.”

“Yes, Tim. Just let us know, and we will help you to sleep and, of course, we will wake you in the morning.” The print slowly faded from his sight and was replaced by, “End of message.”

While standing up off the bed, Tim leaned over and turned on the TV mounted on top of the dresser. He picked up the bags of food he had picked up before finding the hotel and grabbed something to eat while putting everything else away.

Along with the food, Tim picked up a couple pairs of t-shirts and shorts. He selected much smaller sizes then he currently wore since he was going to be losing weight soon, and he needed to have these new clothes once the process was finished.

After an hour of trying to relax with some TV, he decided it was time for bed and at least get prepared for the next day. Tim was just about to pull the comforter off of the bed and thought better of it, just sliding on top of the comforter and staying in the basic gray sweats and white t-shirt the jailers had supplied to him. Under the white t-shirt, Tim was wearing a wife-beater style t-shirt, so he removed the top one and decided to sleep in the undershirt only.

“Okay, guys, please go ahead and help me fall asleep.”

He almost did not finish the sentence.

The day started earlier than normal for Col. Price. He spent the majority of the night apologizing on the phone and in video conferences to his higher-ups in Washington and all across the country. He went over every second of what happened the night before – during and after the escape – reviewing the investigation thus far. The higher-ups had hatchet men looking to speed their careers along by going over very inch of his testimony to find any inconsistencies between any recollections or actions so far as the colonel searched for Tim Murphy.