By night, stars; by day, family - alternate reality story

Author's note: Gearing up for the big mission while listening to Trent Reznor at 2 a.m. At least insomnia yields productivity in the wee hours, right?
It will probably be a few days probably before another update hits; it's a crazy week at work, and an even crazier weekend. But once I'm back, the story is officially moved to Ireland, with a few surprises in store...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JACK

In the years that followed all of this madness, Jack would never understand how in the world the tact team behind the ISA’s rescue mission had been put together so quickly. It had been less than six hours since he and Jennifer had presented their findings, and everyone was already perched on the edge of their seats in a private jet whooshing towards the middle of nowhere on the other side of the planet. Looking out the window, he imagined he could see time fast-forwarding just by staring at the color of the sky around them.
The pilot had been given a copy of the coordinates pulled from Jennifer’s recording, and everyone was suited up and briefed about their assignments. Shane, John and Roman would be securing the perimeter of the penitentiary from a safe distance, preparing for any possible event that could go wrong if Plan A blew up in their faces. Inside the penitentiary, Bo, Jack and Jennifer would set everything up from the inside while the masses would hopefully be too busy with the relocation to notice anything was amiss.
“Alright, you three will need these. Clip them inside your uniforms after you’ve obtained them, somewhere inside the collar or close to your mouth so we can hear you,” Roman said, handing three pea-sized microphones out to the infiltrating ends of the mission. After the trio pocketed them, Roman handed them another silicone-lined device to place inside their ears.
“We are to remain in constant contact at all times. Remember the phrases you’ll use if you run into any trouble and need backup. We’ll be waiting for your signal to move in.”
“And Shane, you’ll walk me through the steps if I run into anything I don’t understand,” Jennifer’s inflection raised at the end of her statement.
Shane nodded. “We’ll be doing this blindly, because we have no idea what the inside of this place looks like. Look for any room with a paper or electronic database, and we’ll go from there,” he said.
“And Bo and I will be patrolling the area while you map out the inside,” Jack recited.
“Exactly, so be sure you don’t lose these,” Roman said, coughing up another pair of devices, which Bo and Jack were instructed to pin anywhere on their uniform that isn’t visible. “That tracker will trace to our computers outside, and you and Bo will help us draw up a blueprint. Do checks, mumble room numbers, give us any detail you can pass along without being noticed by a guard, and be on the lookout.”
“What about when we find Steve?” Jack asked Roman.
“Steve is a top priority IF we manage to locate him. But remember that part is still speculation. The main goal is to flush out as many details as we can, and then do what we can to liberate the prisoners inside,” said Roman.
“And if we don’t find Steve, that is still our number one priority, folks. Don’t forget that,” added John.
Jennifer’s face fell, and she nodded, returning to her seat and leaning forward to gaze out into the night.
Jack regarded her for a minute, then turned back to Roman and John. “Look fellas, I’ll do everything I can to make sure this mission is successful. But I’m not going to pretend that finding my brother isn’t MY number one priority. So please respect that and we’ll be fine.”
John sighed. “As long as you’re willing to follow through no matter what happens, Jack.” His lips were set in a thin line, emotion locked out, all business. But his expression softened slightly when he saw the defiance painted on Jack’s face. “I want Steve to be in there too; but if he’s not, those other prisoners are just as important.”
Jack opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, and closed it again. He offered a curt nod before the group disbanded.
Taking his seat next to Jennifer, Jack reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned to him, and he took both her hands in his.
“So, are you ready to become this decade’s Nelly Bly?” he spoke softly, and she smiled.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, before dropping her gaze to the floor. Jack reached out to cup her chin, returning her eyes back to his.
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked her.
“I just… can’t stop thinking about Abigail,” she admitted.
Jack had blocked every negative thought from his head since the plane took off, but he understood what Jennifer meant. If the mission went belly-up, and anything happened to either of them, what would that mean for their daughter?
“But then I keep thinking about Stephanie, and how she’s spent three years of her life without her father. And then Kayla… I can’t imagine going through something like that, Jack. If anything happens to you…”
Jennifer’s voice wavered, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Jack silenced her with a soft kiss, before cupping her face in his hands. “We can’t think like that for a minute. Both of us are going to get through this, and we’ll all be back at home with Abigail before you know it."
Jennifer nodded. “I know. And I just keep telling myself that if it was the other way around, Kayla would do this for us, too.”
Jack hesitated, and Jennifer pressed. “Jack, she WOULD. Not just for me and Abby, but for you, too.”
Wordlessly, they settled back in their seats, Jennifer eventually falling asleep in Jack’s arms. But Jack was restless, his thoughts turning over every detail of the mission. He patted at his pockets, feeling the outline of the devices Roman had given him inside, then reached up to his shirt pocket, pulling out one more item: Steve’s wedding ring.

Before the tactical team boarded the plane to Ireland, Kayla had pulled Jack aside while everyone was busy saying their goodbyes.
“Jack, I need to ask you for a favor,” she’d told him. Reaching into her bag, she'd pulled out Steve's ring and pressed it into the palm of Jack’s hand, closing his fingers around it. “If you see him, and you have an opportunity to speak with him, please give him this.”
Jack swallowed a lump in his throat, and nodded.
“Also, I just wanted to wish you luck in there. What you and Jennifer have done for me… well, I’ll never forget it,” she’d said.
Against all of his better judgment, he’d made a promise to her in that moment. After all the two of them had been through together, especially since Steve’s supposed death, they’d made long strides in repairing the mistakes that had been made in the past; but there would never be a day that he would feel that he no longer owed her anything.
So he’d given her a promise; and now he was praying for any and every possibility that he could keep it:
“Kayla, I promise you that I won’t come home without him, no matter what happens.”
 
Last edited:
CHAPTER 12

“NICK”

From cage to caged caravan, en route to yet another cage, the one thing Nick had going for him was that he hadn’t been separated from Gina. They shared a bench seat during the transport, which was nice, but they couldn’t exactly communicate since one of the guards stayed perched at a dutiful watch right across from them. So instead, they’d taken turns passing the torn sheet Hope had managed to smuggle out of her cell between them. They figured the guard just assumed they were holding hands, since he never made a move to stop them.
Nick had the makeshift page clenched in his fist as they neared their destination, his mind cycling through the words Gina had managed to capture while he’d been sleeping: “Sweetness, yellow, anchor, courage…” all words that gave him a deep fuzzy feeling in the center of his chest, but he didn’t know why. Then there were other random words, and a name.
Bo. Who in the world was Bo? The name hit a nerve somewhere deep within his psyche — though not as strongly as it had for Gina — but trying to reach the source of (love? anger? a mixture of both, maybe?) felt about as useless as trying to catch a grain of sand while it was floating in water. Every time he thought he had a firm grip, it slipped back through.
It wasn’t long until Gina, Nick and the other inmates were ushered off of the buses and onto a jet plane. Nick had tried being observant, hoping to catch some sort of road sign or landmark to clue them in on where they were; but the windows in the van had been tinted and there was nothing besides the jet, a runway and what appeared to be an closed-down airport in sight as they were were ushered from wheels to wings — a flying cage for captive birds.
The plane ride was even more hopeless. They’d been sedated as soon as they boarded; the medicine coating the inside of their veins like a silk web, Nick felt his eyelid gain about ten pounds in twenty seconds.
Mumbling something to Gina, he’d tucked the scrap into his jumpsuit to avoid dropping it in his sleep. He’d barely seen Gina nod before sleep swallowed him whole, where fuzzy images floated around in his mind, always just out of reach.

THE COMPOUND

Hours later, the empty compound, comprised of a skeleton crew of masked guards, welcomed a stream of transport vehicles as they filed in through the razor-wired gates. Little did the rest of the busy staff know they were missing two of their minions.
“Good GOD, somebody, help me with this guy! He’s gotta weigh 300 pounds!” Jack grumbled, heaving a knocked-out sentinel out of the brush on the far end of the compound’s property line. Tucked out of sight, in a vehicle equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance, was the “B-Team,” as Jack had taken to calling Roman, John and Shane (much to their disdain).
“Oh good grief, Jack, stop being so dramatic!” Jennifer chided as she hauled another unconscious guard through the brush behind her husband, slinging his limp body in front of Bo’s feet.
Jack, still struggling to catch his breath, caught Bo’s shoulders shaking with laughter, and he punched him in the arm.
“Ow! Hey now, that any way to treat your backup?” Bo teased.
Jack offered a very rude gesture in response. “So far, your only action as my backup has been to stand there all smug.” He jabbed a thumb in Jennifer’s direction and added, “I don’t see you carting any guards through here.”
“That’s because we only needed two,” Bo said, his lips curling up in a smirk.
“Alright, so now we have two disguises for Jack and Bo; so Jen, it’s time for you to suit up,” John said. Jennifer nodded and proceeded to crawl into the van. Jack jumped in after her, and a few minutes later he stuck out a bare arm after a suit and mask from one of the guards.
“No funny business in there; we have jobs to do!” Shane called out jokingly. Jack threw him a thumbs-up before shutting the van door. Seconds later the men heard a muffled squeak, followed by a muted sound like a slap and Jack’s answering “OUCH!”
Roman shook his head and turned back to Bo, who was throwing on the suit stripped from the other guard.
“These guys look familiar to anyone?” Roman asked. John stood over both men, studying their faces carefully, before shaking his head.
“Not off the top of my head; but we’ll find out soon enough after we take them back to the states for questioning.” John pulled out two sets of cuffs and tossed one to Roman.
As the duo worked on securing their potential informants, Jennifer and Jack emerged from the van in their disguises. Jennifer adjusted a dark brown wig and a simple, white jumpsuit; while Jack secured his microphone inside of his collar before putting on the mask.
“How’s everything?” Bo asked before putting his own mask on.
“Roomy in here. Hope no one notices the guard has dropped half a person inside this thing,” rang a metallic voice. Jack paused, then tried again. “Whoa. That’s different,” came out in a perfect monotone twang.
“I guess this means we won’t need to worry about speaking in there. That’s a good,” Bo’s distorted reply rattled from inside his own mask.
“Are you kidding? This is great news,” Shane said. “One less thing to worry about. And this might give us a chance to communicate if you manage to find Steve.”
Just then, a tone sang out from the radio inside the van. Shane jumped into the front seat and hit the button.
“Donovan here; the um… ‘A-Team’” Shane rolled his eyes before continuing, “has secured their disguises and are ready to infiltrate.”
He smiled before continuing: “What’s our status at home, my love?”
Kimberly’s voice answered: “We’re still at work on our research here, Shane. Kayla and Mike are coming up with some great theories.”
“Good. And how are our prince and princess?”
“Jeannie and Andrew are fine. Tell the rest that their little ones are fine, too. We’ve scheduled a little play date with everyone down at the park later.”
A scuffle was heard, followed by Kayla’s voice.
“Shane. How is everyone, are they inside?”
“Not just yet, Kayla. But stay close; we’re getting ready to move along the next phase of the plan soon.”
“Good. Keep me posted. I’ll be close by,” Kayla said.
Kimberly’s voice spoke again after a few minutes. “Please be careful. I don’t think we’ll be able to breathe until we hear an update over here,” she said.
Shane smiled, imagining his wife nervously gnawing her fingernails to the quick while Kayla paced a hole in the floor of the Salem PD’s conference room. “We will. Try not to worry. We’re keeping the line open and you’ll know something as soon as we do.”
Before signing off, Shane added. “I love you. Hug our little ones for me.”
“I will. I love you,” Kimberly replied.

Just like they’d hoped, the motley trio blended right into the chaos of the prison yard as it teemed with various groups of inmates being ushered into scraggly lines leading inside. Jack and Bo each kept a soft grip on Jennifer as she pretended to writhe and struggle against them. The tendrils of her wig fell over most of her face, hiding herself from full view of any one of Alamain’s henchmen.
They finally managed to squeeze inside to find a more uniform series of single-file lines heading in a spiderweb of different directions. Jennifer was stamped with a number indicating a “new arrival,” #5,279, confirming their grisly suspicions about the facility. The head count, while it certainly looked like a big crowd, only reached around 250, according to the roster another guard had handed Jack when they’d first come in. He and Bo had taken a second to scan the list after it was handed to them, but only found inmate numbers assigned to their corresponding cell blocks.
The compound itself appeared from the outside to only have three floors, unless there was someplace underground where they were stashing extra inmates.
The interior of the prison looked more like a hospital than a penitentiary: everything was white and pristine, with more windows than walls making room divisions feel more like an illusion. After advancing up one floor, the trio found themselves in a hallway overlooking the lines spread out on the first level.
Bo and Jack paused for a minute, pretending to look over the roster again. Jack nudged Jennifer, who took every advantage of the pause to take in as many faces as she could. She scanned the rows as quickly and carefully as she was able, before her eyes finally fell on an inmate that had been pulled aside.
She gasped, and Jack and Bo turned to her.
She put her head down, leveling her mouth with the microphone on the collar of her jumpsuit.
“Shane, I see him! I see Steve.”
 
Last edited:
CHAPTER 13

DISCOVERY

Outside, Shane took in Jennifer’s transmission with a wave of relief. They’d done it, after all this time.
“Are you absolutely sure, Jennifer?”
Her muted voice came back after a few seconds. “Yes. Steve Johnson is here, and he’s alive.”

Back at the Salem PD, Kayla gripped the edge of the conference table, her knuckles turning white. Her head spun, her breath came in shallow bursts. She was either about to faint, or fly, and she didn’t care which.
“Steve,” she finally breathed just as Kimberly reached out to grab her in a celebratory hug.

The trio had managed to backtrack to the first floor, venturing further inside the building into the giant room where Jennifer had spotted Steve. It only took a few minutes to locate him again.
They tried to look uninterested, blending in with other groups as they circled around each other. Apparently, sorting everyone was taking more time than the guards had hoped; which was perfect because it gave them more time to develop a strategy.
Jack coughed, jarring Bo out of a trance as he’d been staring at his best friend for a few seconds too long.
“Try not to draw any attention our way,” Jack’s metallic voice rumbled.
“Whatever you say, Darth Vader,” came Bo’s reply. A few minutes passed before he braved another glance…
… and then he froze completely.
“Bo, I SAID not to…” Jack’s sentence was cut off as he followed Bo’s gaze, and finally, Jennifer’s joined them.
The inmate standing next to Steve had turned; her wavy brown hair brushed away from her face. Her terrified eyes were darting around the room as the two of them whispered to one another.

Shane sat up when he heard Jennifer’s voice: “Oh… my… God.”
“What? Jennifer, what’s going on?”
His inquiry was met with silence, so he tried again.
“Jennifer. What’s happening? Are you in trouble? Do you need backup?”
Jennifer’s voice cut through again. “No… Shane, we’re all fine. Steve is fine… and… he’s not alone.”

Back in Salem, Kimberly and Kayla were practically hugging the radio, hanging onto every word.

Jennifer spoke again, slowly. At her side, Bo was as still as a redwood. Jack was beginning to think he’d gone catatonic.
“Shane… Hope Brady is an inmate here too. Hope and Steve are both alive.”
 
Last edited:
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“GINA”

It gave Gina a petty wave of satisfaction to see the panicked skeleton crew try in vain to run the place like a well-oiled machine right off the bat. This wasn’t her first time being transported to a new location, and it made her feel so deliciously smug to see their plans never quite pan out as smoothly as they’d always hoped. And this time was no different. The uniform line of inmates that stretched back out into the yard had branched into far too many directions for the guards to control and keep up with; so everyone had inevitably bottle-necked about halfway through the lobby while the guards tried to figure out what this inmate was doing here when he or she or they were supposed to be on the second floor, and where in the world was that updated chart supposed to be instead of the second-to-last current roster they were holding?
Gina smiled and absentmindedly reached into the waistband of her uniform for the scrap page, and panicked for a second when she didn’t find it. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned, her clenched expression softening when she finally remembered that she’d handed it off to Nick before they were drugged during the flight.
“Nick, do you see anything interesting?” she whispered.
Nick shook his head after glancing around one more time. “It’s starting to buckle, but I still don’t see a way out of here without getting a couple of tranquilizers in our necks.”
Nick had promised Gina that they’d use this move to look for a good opportunity to make a break for it. Gina was getting anxious, but her partner was right; now wasn’t the time.
“Right,” she answered. “But, soon. Very soon.”
A few more minutes passed, before Nick finally noticed Gina clenching and unclenching her fist. As she went to ball up her fist again, she felt the scrap sliding carefully between her fingers.
“Just hang onto this for a little while, sweet thing. Think about that baby of yours, and whoever this ‘Bo’ fella might be,” he assured her.
Bo.
The name made Gina’s face light up every time she thought about it. Without a single, clear memory, she already knew somewhere deep down that this was the name of the person who’d belonged to that finger she remembered her baby squeezing with his entire, chubby little fist.
But, how? This place took so many great pains in blocking out everything that could ever hope to clue her in on who she was. Looking around at all of the other tranced-out inmates made it even more strange. Were the drugs not working on them anymore? And if so, why?
Who cares, Gina thought to herself. I’ll have my memories back soon, and with a little luck, I’ll be home again.
Gina’s smile was short-lived as the two were suddenly faced with one of the guards, who promptly ripped the sheet out of her hand.
“What do we have here? Contraband?” a robotic voice quipped, holding the scrap between his two fingers like it was a used band-aid.
A white-hot burst of anger crawled up Gina’s spine and flared at the base of her skull. That “contraband” was the only good, tangible thing Gina had been able to hold onto for years. It was harmless and meant nothing to anyone else but her.
Why? Why were they doing this? What did they want from her? What do they care if she remembers something, anything about her past?
These men weren’t prison guards. She didn’t know who she was; but surely to goodness even the worst vessels of evil on the planet at least deserved something as precious as their memories. No, she wasn’t the criminal here. These men were. They were everything she hated, and everything she wanted to destroy.
Her hatred spilled from her tongue like acid in a stream of profanities as she lunged at the paper. Her screams hushed the rumble of conversation around them as everyone turned to watch the spectacle unfold.
The guard mockingly held the scrap just out of reach, holding Gina back with one arm. He pocketed the scrap with his other hand before tightly gripping both of her shoulders.
“I was hoping I’d get an excuse to let off some steam today,” the guard drawled; and Gina suddenly felt a burst of pain in her abdomen as the guard’s knee connected with her stomach. She doubled over, her arms folding over herself protectively as tears spilled furiously from her eyes. She looked up and saw Nick through blurry vision as he advanced toward the guard; but he was quickly pulled away. Backup had arrived. The silence around her faded as the scene around her roared to life; previously silent prisoners were whispering, all of them too afraid (and probably too drugged) to intervene on Gina’s behalf. Nick was yelling as he thrashed against his bonds.
Gina’s senses melded into a static and unintelligible mess of chaos as the first guard advanced towards her again.

BO

Bo couldn’t hear Jack for a second as his eyes drank in the sight of his presumed dead wife, standing no more than ten yards away from him next to his presumed-dead best friend.
How? How was this even possible? His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. This situation was insane enough without even considering the possibility that not one, but two members of the Brady clan had been spirited away from them like this.
But then he’d heard Jennifer say it, and he knew he wasn’t imagining things. Hope was alive. Steve and Hope were both alive.
A flood of emotions raged through him simultaneously: intense joy over his soul finally connecting with the love of his life again, awe as his eyes drank in every feature of her beautiful (fancy)face; guilt over believing that she’d been gone all these years when his sister had so easily been able to have faith in her husband in the face of the impossible; rage at whoever was responsible.
“Bo. BO!”
Bo finally came back down to earth as he felt Jack tugging at the sleeve of his suit. He forced himself to turn away long enough to catch Jennifer’s equally shocked expression as she stood next to her masked husband.
Shane’s voice came over their earpieces. “Bo. I-I know I’m asking for the impossible here, but you have to keep a clear head,” he warned.
Bo gave a subtle nod, swallowing the orange-sized lump in his throat before finally regaining his speech. “What do we do?” he asked.
“Stay on them. Find out where they are, and we’ll make contact as soon as it’s safe,” Shane’s voice returned.
Looking back, it had been a good plan; but seconds later, the place had erupted into pandemonium.
“What do we have here? Contraband?”
“Uh-oh,” Jennifer whispered under her breath.
Jack tried to steady Bo as Hope lunged at the guard, causing all eyes to turn their way. They were the center of attention now, and it was precisely the wrong time to get involved.
Of course, that didn’t make a bit of difference to Bo after Hope went down.
Bo hadn’t had time to think, just react. The minute he’d seen the punch, rage clouded his better judgment and he’d launched himself right in the middle of a huge spectacle. From his earpiece, he could hear Shane’s livid voice barking orders in rapid succession.
“What do you think you’re doing? Make an excuse! Do something before you blow our cover!”
Bo ignored Shane as he wedged himself between Hope and the guard, folding his arms around her and bringing her back up to a standing position. He’d lifted her chin to stare into her beautiful —albeit shocked — eyes for just a moment before he was whirled around.
Holding onto the sleeve of Bo’s disguise, the masked figure demanded: “What do you think you’re doing???”

???

While all hell broke loose on the first floor, the panic gave yet another sabateur just enough privacy to slip up to the lab, which was still in enough disarray to set the rest of her plan into motion.
The move couldn’t have come at a better time. She’d had too many close calls to count at the old facility, and she couldn’t afford to be caught now when Hope was so close to regaining her memories.
Double-checking to verify that the room was empty, she made her way through the labyrinth of documents, medicines and equipment, straight to what she’d been looking for. She’d seen the Aremid Penitentiary’s operations behind the scenes long enough to know they’d keep their “special operatives” project somewhere safe from the rest of their deplorable little science projects. And, lucky for her, their security was lax enough for her to simply enter the same old code from the other facility and crank the safe right open.
There they were: enough vials for a good three months’ worth of limbiserum, double doses specifically marked for “Gina” and “Nick:” the new and improved “Pawns” being groomed for none other than Stefano DiMera.
She smirked, reaching into her bag and pulling out a tray of her own. The limbiserum was a great blocker, for sure, but hers was better.
Well, it was hers now, anyway, after she’d swiped enough of it to counteract a lifetime of their sick little mind games. At least now she was giving it back.
“There you go, ‘Nick’ and ‘Gina.’ Keep up the good work, my friends,” she whispered, before carefully backtracking to her hiding spot on the roof. There, she waited for night to fall, letting her careful watch of the guard’s patterns be distracted only by a few anguished glances down at the glaring reminder of her own imprisonment, which was permanently inked onto her left hand: “#00045.”
 
Last edited:
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

BO

Bo stammered in search of any excuse for his behavior, his arms still around Hope as he stared at the faceless guard. He had to come up with some way out of this, and some way to get Hope and Steve somewhere where they could clue them in on their plan. Unfortunately, the words just wouldn’t come.
I’ve really messed things up this time, he thought.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” The guard said. Behind them, the second guard held Steve back, even though the inmate had stopped fighting back. Instead, Steve just stared at Bo with growing curiosity.
Another discombobulated voice came from beside them as Jack appeared by Bo’s side, hauling Jennifer by the arm.
“I think we should be asking you the same question.”
The guard turned his attention to Jack. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse you! You’re supposed to be taking these inmates to their cells; not using them as punching bags. If you can’t do your job any better than that, perhaps Alamain should be made aware of your sloppy performance!”
The guard threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! You take them then and I’ll take a break. I need a cigarette anyway.”
“You do that,” Jack said. He nodded towards Bo, who kept a firm but careful grip on Hope. “He’ll take care of the lady; and you turn over the gentleman here.”
Bo thought quickly, and added. “And let me have that item you took off of inmate… let’s see here, “ he glanced down at Hope’s hand, expecting to find a stamp that matched Jennifer’s. He blanched when he realized that hers wasn’t temporary; it was a tattoo. “… #00345.”
The guard handed over the scrap, and Bo pocketed it.
“Out of your mind, going crazy over a little scrap of a bed sheet. Haven’t you ever had a security blanket, officer?” Jack teased. Bo elbowed him to shut him up.
“Just do the job, hot shot. Since you’re so much more ‘qualified’ than I am,” the guard spat. Turning on his heel, he strolled outside, sliding a pack of Camels from his pocket. The second guard followed.
The commotion was already beginning to die down as the other guards on patrol hushed the other inmates’ whisperings. Another few minutes and the five of them would finally be alone.
Shane’s voice came back over the earpieces.
“Alright, get them to their cells, but remember to be subtle about any communication. We don’t know who might be watching or listening,” Shane said.
Jack and Bo looked at each other, while Jennifer regarded Steve and Hope. They were both staring at her; and Hope was mouthing ‘What is going on?’” She winked at Hope in response, then put her head down.
“Okay, enough of this. Time to move,” Bo ordered, ushering Hope forward towards an empty hallway, where an elevator was waiting.

“GINA”

The five of them crowded into the empty elevator, the space silent as the door closed, trapping them all inside. The first guard — the one who had intervened on her behalf — glanced at his clipboard and pointed something out to the second guard, who punched in the floor number and stood back beside Nick.
Gina couldn’t stop staring at the faceless man as he returned to his post beside her. She expected him to grab her again, lock her hands behind her back so she couldn’t try any funny business, but instead he rested his hand softly against the small of her back, steadying her.
Nick got her attention — his uncovered eye wild, darting from one guard to the other. She understood: he wanted to try something now.
The opportunity did seem pretty perfect, but her intuition told her that something bigger was happening here. She carefully gave Nick a small shake of her head in response. No. Wait.
Nick looked flabbergasted. His expression read, “Are you serious?” She narrowed her eyes in response, and he sighed.
Returning her attention to the guard, Gina noticed him pull the scrap from his pocket and open it. She made a move to stop him, but he held out a hand, halting her. He then began to read.
They were suddenly interrupted as the doors slid open, and the guard quickly returned the contraband to his pocket. They moved down to the end of the hallway, where their cells waited.
Gina watched the second guard as he moved in front of them: one hand leading Nick; the other leading the strange new prisoner she had never seen before — a new arrival, she’d assumed, but now she wasn’t so sure that was the whole story.
Nick was behaving himself, thank God. It seemed like his desperation had finally died down long enough for him to realize the same thing she was: something was happening here.
Stopping in front of one of the doors, the second guard opened it and peered inside. He turned and nodded at the female prisoner, who wordlessly stepped inside the room.
Gina’s eyebrow shot up when she swore she’d seen the guard give prisoner’s hand a small squeeze.
The door shut, and the second guard led Steve to the cell next to it.
The cells on this floor were different than the ones in her last location. The doors on each cell were made of thick glass, so you could see straight into them. The setup inside was simple like before: a small cot, a sink, a toilet (a curtain for privacy); and what looked like a small fold-out desk in the corner with a small chair.
Heh. They’d upgraded.
Gina suddenly felt a gentle tug on her left arm, and turned to see the first guard pointing across from Nick’s cell.
Oh my God, she realized. We’ll be able to see each other!
The guard opened the door and Hope followed the example of their strange new neighbor, stepping inside with no fuss. The guard stood behind her and waited until she was inside, before he closed the door behind her.
The guards took the small cards clipped to their boards and swiped them along panels beside the doors, locking them in. Gina and Nick stared at each other, stymied by what was going on. But then her guard got her attention again.
Bringing his finger to his lips (or where she assumed his lips were behind the mask), the guard reached into his pocket, pulling out her note. He opened it and pointed to where she’d written the name “Bo.”

NICK

Staring across the hallway into Gina’s cell, Nick could tell the guard was communicating with her somehow. He certainly seemed to have a strange fascination with that scrap note; but he’d been too conditioned by this place to let himself believe help had finally arrived.
What if it was a trick, and they were being tested? Yes, nothing of this magnitude had exactly happened to them before; but it was still strange, and Nick felt uneasy.
Then suddenly, he was being gestured to by his own guard, who was still standing at the door to his cell. He offered a small wave.
If this wasn’t serious business, it would almost be a comical sight, seeing one of these masked morons waving at me like a clown at a birthday party, Nick thought to himself.
Nick didn’t speak a word, only nodded, confirming that he was paying attention.
The guard then pulled out a scrap of paper — honest-to-God PAPER — and something else, dropping them to the floor and using one booted foot to kick them under the seal. He then joined the other guard, who’d begun heading back towards the elevator.
Nick waited until they were out of sight before bending down to pick up the gifts. The paper scrap was small, almost the size of one you’d find inside of a fortune cookie, and had a single message written in small print:
“You are Steve Johnson. We’re taking you to your wife,” it read.
“Steve Johnson,” he repeated to himself quietly, before he finally noticed the other item the guard had left him.
It was a ring; small, simple, and gold. Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he slipped it onto his left ring finger, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer when he saw it fit to the small grooves in his skin that he’d always noticed there perfectly.
“We’re taking you to your wife.”
He left it there for a minute, before glancing up to see Gina staring at him, wearing an astonished grin on her face. He held his hand up to her, showing her the ring, and her smile widened even more.
Steve knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep the ring on his finger, but he had to keep it close. He took it off and slipped it inside the pillowcase on his cot, and then laid back down so he could reach behind him and trace the circle with his fingertips.
He had someone waiting for him, alright. And whoever these people were, they were going to get him back to her. He finally had something to hope for again.
“You are Steve Johnson…”
Steve picked up the paper again and stared at it, holding it up against the light reflecting from the hallway. He suddenly noticed as the light filtered through the paper that another message had been quickly scrawled onto the back, and he flipped it to see what it was:
“Her name is Hope Brady,” the scribble read.
 
Last edited:
Wow, THANK YOU! :love:
I actually am working on a novel. But unlike side projects like this, I'm still stuck on the first chapter. :cry:
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

KAYLA

Kayla had forced herself away from the radio long enough to attend the cookout her sister had planned for their family that evening; but her mind didn’t leave it for a second. Watching Stephanie running around on the playground with her cousins was no longer a sight tainted by the twinge of sadness she usually felt. Every moment she’d spent with her daughter over the past three years was precious, but there was always that dull feeling of heartbreak when Steve had missed making another memory with them.
It wouldn’t be long now, she thought to herself.
“Well Kay, to be honest I’d planned this whole thing as a little distraction just in case nothing turned up right way; but now it’s a full-fledged celebration!” Kim announced from her spot beside their father on the grill.
Shawn flipped a row of burgers, a chorus of sizzling and popping sounding as the fresh meat met the lick of charcoal-fueled flames. The smell eventually wafted towards the playground, beckoning back their brood of starving grade-schoolers.
“Is it ready yet?” Shawn Douglas asked. Kayla swore she could hear his stomach growling from her seat. Stephanie and Jeannie T. were right behind him, their eyes pleading.
“Five more minutes, kids. Go ahead and get your plates ready,” their grandfather announced. At the table, Caroline started helping them pile their plates with potato chips and pickles while Kim carved a juicy watermelon into manageable chunks.
“I still can’t believe it. Not only have they found Steve already, but Hope? After all this time!” Caroline exclaimed.
From his seat, Shawn Douglas was beaming. They’d told Shawn Douglas immediately after they’d found out, with Kimberly later agonizing over the decision in case something were to happen. Shawn D. had overheard his aunt’s conversation and Kayla’s insistence that they were together now and that everything would work out; and he’d sided with Kayla.
“My dad is there with her, so I know they’ll both come home,” he’d told Kimberly.
After everyone was seated for the meal, her family joined hands around the table. Surrounded by her loved ones at home, Kayla could feel the strength of their bond while they prayed for the safety of everyone in Ireland. She knew more than ever in that moment that Shawn D. was right, and their connection was stronger than anything Alamain or DiMera could throw at them.

After the cookout was over, no one wanted to go home; so Abe made a special provision for the family gathering to move into the conference area for the night. The room where the radio continued its transmission was packed with cots, while the kids had opted to build a blanket fort in the back of the room. Kayla and Adrienne helped them out by raiding a supply closet at the community center before heading over.
“I’m not used to this many people wanting to stay in a police station,” Abe had joked as he helped the little ones cart in armloads of pillows. He’d helped with the setup, and stayed with them until Lexie took over for the evening shift.
It was still early in the evening when the kids had settled in to sleep in a pile on the blankets and pillows. Stephanie had hugged her bear while she and Kayla recited their goodnight poem. A few of the others stayed awake and watched, and Andrew even mimicked some of the signs that he’d learned from his mother.
When Adrienne went to check on them sometime later, she’d gestured for Kayla to come look: in his sleep, Max had reached out and grabbed one of the bear’s paws while Stephanie held onto the other.
Everyone else eventually fell asleep, leaving Kayla in front of the radio, wide awake. She looked back at her family before adjusting the volume and pressing the button for her microphone.
“This is Kayla,” she spoke in a low voice.
A few minutes later, her brother came over the transmission.
“Hey sis, it’s Roman. We’re doing good here. Steve, Hope and Jen are in their cells, and Jen is about to take a little field trip,” he told her.
From inside the prison, Jack added, “I was able to sneak him the ring, and the message.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He couldn’t talk much at the time, but I’m sure he has plenty of questions for us,” Jack said.
“Okay, just keep us posted. We’re all here waiting for news, and everyone is doing just fine.”
“Everyone?” Roman asked.
Kayla giggled. “Well, yes. And I mean everyone. Mom, Dad, Frankie, Kim and Adrienne, the kids, no one wanted to go home.”
“How’s my baby girl?” Jack asked after Abigail.
“She’s fine, Jack. She’s been a little quiet though, I think she misses you both.”
Then from behind Kayla came a small voice: “Is that Daddy?” She turned to see Abigail standing beside her; she must’ve heard them talking. Checking back behind her, she saw the other kids still sound asleep under the blanket fort.
Kayla smiled and nodded, patting the seat beside her. She turned back to the microphone and gestured for Abigail to hit the button.
“Is Jennifer on the line? Somebody just climbed out of bed and wants to say hi,” Kayla told them, before angling the mic to her right.
 
Last edited:
JENNIFER

The wait had been agonizingly slow for Jennifer, and she couldn’t understand how in the world Steve and Hope had managed to keep their sanity like this for so long. There was a desk, but she had nothing to write with and no other purpose she could think of to use it for — unless she went stir-crazy enough to sit at it and bang her forehead against the surface repeatedly. There was a cot, but she certainly couldn’t sleep. She was right next to Steve’s cell; but from what she could tell they couldn’t communicate through the wall — even if he could hear Jennifer, she couldn’t hear him. There was always the option of moving closer to the door; but that would make it easier for the guards to overhear anything they said.
So, she’d stretched out on the thin mattress, adjusting her body in different positions on occasion to avoid being so sore she couldn’t move after lights-out.
She’d passed the time by listening to Jack and Bo as they’d maneuvered through the prison throughout the rest of the day, noting locations like hallways and stairwells from their patrols and from the obscure maps that had been included in their clipboards when they first came in. Security cameras hadn’t been set up yet, which was a bonus, and according to a conversation Bo had overheard, the prison would be more understaffed than normal later that night.
They’d returned to the cell block earlier that evening to deliver sleeping pills; Jack using a small gesture with his back turned to the hallway to let her know it was him, then pointing next door to let her know that Bo had been assigned to Steve and Hope’s cells. Jennifer had tongued her meds since another guard was watching, but of course Jack had cleared her after pretending to check inside her mouth to make sure she’d swallowed it.
“No trouble out of you tonight, inmate,” he’d quipped, and she offered her return code phrase they’d worked out between the two of them before going inside: “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The code of course meaning “Love you,” and “Love you more.”
It was past midnight before the transmission from Kayla came in. She’d listened to her conversation with Bo and Jack silently, her eyes misting when the subject of their daughter came up.
Then she’d heard Kayla ask if she was on the line, and she’d softly whispered a “yes” before sliding from her cot and tiptoeing to the door to make sure the coast was clear.
Verifying that it was, she said it louder. “Yes Kayla, I’m here.”
What she heard next had to be the most beautiful sound in the world: “Mommy? Daddy?”
“Abby?” came Jack’s voice, followed by Jennifer’s: “Hi, baby girl!”
“I can’t sleep. I want you to come home,” Abby told them.
Jennifer answered, “We’re coming home soon honey, I promise. And we’re bringing Uncle Steve and Aunt Hope with us.”
“Okay… I love you,” Abby said.
“We love you too sweetheart. Now get some sleep and be good for Aunt Kayla, okay?” Jack told her.
“Okay.”
Kayla’s voice came over the mic again. “I’m going to read her a story and get her back to bed. Check in with us when you can. We’re thinking about you all.”
“Thanks Kayla. We will,” Jennifer said.
The transmission from Kayla’s end went quiet, and a few minutes passed before Jack’s voice spoke again. “I don’t know about you Jen, but that’s exactly what I needed.”
Jennifer nodded, and then chuckled to herself when she remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, me too.”
A few more hours passed until Bo’s voice came through her earpiece: “It’s time.” Jennifer was off the cot and at the door in seconds, where Jack was already waiting for her. He slipped the card into the slot, and the door opened.
“Ready, honey?” the metallic voice asked her.
“Ready,” she said.

JOHN

Outside the perimeter, John, Roman and Shane had started their leg of the mission. After cutting through the fence, they’d fanned out around the perimeter, knocking out every guard in their path and cuffing them to the fence after disarming them. The next phase would be more difficult: find the best exit for the inmates and their A-Team.
“Bo, is there any way out of that place besides the front door?” John asked.
His earpiece buzzed slightly before Bo gave his reply. “Nothing definite yet; but there’s a weird door on the first floor that leads to a sub level. We think it might be some kind of bomb shelter or underground tunnel, which would be right up DiMera’s alley.”
“Can you open it?”
“Tried. Said my clearance level wasn’t high enough,” Bo said, adding, “I thought I was in trouble but the guard who caught me laughed it off. I told him I’d forgotten where the bathroom was.”
“Alright, then it’s either going to come down to you swiping a better card for a quiet exit, or a firestorm rescue from the front entrance. Your pick.”
“Let’s go with the card, buddy. My wife is in here.”
Roman was suddenly standing next to John. “Alright, let’s see what Jack and Jennifer can find out before we make any rash decisions. Are we clear enough to move into that phase?”
Jack’s voice responded. “Yeah, we’re good here. Just say the word.”
“The word. Make it quick, but use your head,” said John before unclipping the mic. He turned to Roman.
“I’ve been thinking… do you think it’s possible that there’s anyone else in here we might know? John asked.
Roman removed his mic too and thought for a minute, before shrugging. “Honestly John, looking at all our family has been through over the years, it wouldn’t be that big of a shock anymore.”
They’d certainly been put through the wringer, so much that John himself had been a pawn in DiMera’s schemes over the years. He certainly wasn’t a friend to Roman after what had happened, but out of respect for Marlena, he’d kept his distance as much as possible until she’d made her decision.
That certainly hadn’t helped in making their situation now any less awkward.
“John, do you remember being in a place like this?” Roman asked.
John shook his head, before adding, “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t.”
Their patrol continued silently. After securing the perimeter, they’d moved as far onto the property as they dared while Shane spotted their progress from the fence line.
Suddenly Roman pointed to the roof, noticing definite movement. “John, check it out.”
John’s eyes flickered up in time to catch a glimpse of someone disappearing from the roof line; and later, a definite rustling in the bushes around the back of the building. John and Roman nodded at one another before spreading out to either side of the location, closing in slowly.
It was John who noticed them first. He darted towards the hooded figure as he or she spotted John and tore out of the brush, darting across the field. They’d reached the fence line before John had them pinned against it, gun un-holstered and pointed at their back.
“Who are you, and what is your business here?” John asked as Roman caught up to them.
John was taken aback when the stranger answered, an older woman’s calm voice piercing the night air.
“I want the same thing you want, John. Freedom, and revenge,” she said.
John’s eyes widened. “How do you know me?” He let the prisoner go, backing up while still leaving the gun trained on her just in case.
The stranger held up her gloved hands in surrender, then slowly reached up to remove a glove. She offered her bare hand, palm facing the ground, for John and Roman to see, her tattoo illuminated by the moon’s light.
John and Roman’s memory registered simultaneously: inmate #00045, who had been supposedly “eradicated” by the higher-ups at the penitentiary. Apparently, they weren’t as thorough as they thought.
“I know of you, and I know you’re a friend of Steve Johnson and Hope Brady. And so am I,” she said.
 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

STEVE

Steve’s restless sleep was interrupted in the middle of the night by a tapping on the glass door of his cell. His eye eased open, and he shot out of the cot when he realized that the strange guards from earlier that day had returned.
Sending a silent prayer of thanks for their intervention during the pharmaceutical distributions that evening, he made his way over to the door wide awake as the guard punched the card into the panel, opening it. The guard stepped inside and removed his mask, exposing his face for the first time.
“Hi Steve. You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Jack Deveraux. I’m your brother,” he said.
Steve looked closely, his memory receptors prickling with vague recollections, but nothing concrete enough to form a single memory. But the jawline, the eyes, the smirk. He’d been staring at his reflection for enough years to know that, yes, they were definitely brothers.
Steve offered a handshake, and Jack returned a wide smile showing a perfect row of white teeth. Something perked in Steve’s memory, and he quipped, “You know, you’ve got a face for politics.”
Jack blanched and offered a nervous chuckle before replying, “Oh man… you really have lost your memory. Anyway, not my scene, at least not anymore.”
Steve nodded, slightly confused, but he brushed it off. He’d remember in time, at least now he had a real hope of it.
Hope.
“My friend, across the way, you’re getting her out too?” he asked.
Jack stepped aside, revealing the second guard in the opposite cell talking to Gina — oops, Hope.
From the doorway, the new inmate who’d come in with the guards offered a small wave.
“Hi. Jennifer Deveraux. This handsome brother of yours is my husband,” she said.
Steve stepped forward and shook her hand as well, before turning back to Jack.
“Speaking of wives… you said you’re taking me back to mine.”
Jack nodded. Steve opened his mouth to inquire, but his brother had already read his mind. “Kayla Brady Johnson. She’s in Salem, which is where we all live. And she’s with your daughter, Stephanie Kay Johnson.”
“D-Daughter?!” Steve exclaimed, and Jennifer waved her arms in a warning to keep it down. He lowered his voice again and whispered, “I have a wife, AND a daughter?”
“Yes Steve,” said Jennifer.
His thoughts raced and tumbled from his mouth in heaps. “How old is she? Does she know about me? Does she know I’m here?”
“Whoa, whoa, slow it down. She’s four years old, yes she knows you’re here and that you’re coming home,” Jennifer said, before adding, “Kayla has told her all about you. She’s never given up on you Steve, not even for a second.”
Kayla… Sweetness…
Steve hesitated before asking, “How were we separated?”
Jennifer’s expression grew solemn before answering. “It’s a long story and we don’t have time to get into it right now… but you kind of, well, ‘died.’”

HOPE

Hope’s sleep meds had been easy to cheek that evening, with help from their mysterious new helpers (Bo… could it really be Bo?). After the guards had left, she’d curled up on her cot and angled her head forward so she could keep a close eye on her neighbor. When the coast was clear, he’d come to the door and pointed to her, and she’d sat up and winked before spitting the pill into her palm.
He’d nodded and then pointed to himself, proceeding to take out a small scrap of paper and press it to the glass.
Even at the door, she couldn’t see the tiny writing on the scrap, and threw her hands up in defeat. They were still afraid to speak to one another, so he’d instead pointed to himself before tracing a series of letters in the air behind the glass.
She’d followed along carefully, “S-T-E-V-E… you’re Steve?” she’d mouthed. He’d nodded and pointed to himself again, before pointing once again at her.
“H-O-P-E… Hope.”
He’d nodded and pointed at her again.
“Hope. My name is Hope,” she’d whispered to herself. Nick - err, Steve, was still nodding. “I like it,” she mouthed back, and he’d given her a thumbs-up.
They then heard footprints coming down the hallway, so they raced back to their cots and feigned sleep again as the units patrolled by. After the footsteps died, Hope opened her eyes slightly and grinned at Steve, who returned with an even bigger one before wistfully reaching under his pillow after the ring he’d shown her earlier.
Hope couldn’t wait for their friends to come back. Eventually she did manage to get a little rest; her daydreaming melding into a real dream of the first time she'd held her child, this time remembering a flash of a warm smile and the feeling of a warm kiss against her forehead, before claiming her lips.
“Bo,” she’d whispered as she stirred from her sleep… and then realized that she wasn’t dreaming. Her eyes flew open, meeting his for the first time in nearly five years.
She was startled at first, sliding into a sitting position and bringing her hand to the back of his as he cradled the side of her face. His mask was discarded on the floor beside the cot, and he was still staring at her.
Her eyes flitted across the way to find the second guard talking to Steve, and the neighboring inmate somehow free and hovering at Steve’s cell door.
She returned her gaze to Bo’s. “Are you… who I think you are?” she asked him.
Her rescuer looked hopeful. “Do you remember me, Fancyface?” he asked her.
She blushed at the endearment, and then frowned, shaking her head. “No… not really. I only have one clear memory… I have a son, and I’m holding him in my arms at the hospital. And someone else is there…”
Bo smiled and nodded, and she continued. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes Hope, that was the day our son was born.”
“Shawn,” she spoke softly.
Bo’s attention was suddenly averted, and he’d pressed a hand to his left ear. He spoke softly. “Yes, she has a little bit of her memory, but not all of it. We’re still secure and we’re heading up in a minute.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Help. We’re getting you out. Tonight,” said Bo.
Unable to control herself, her excitement bubbled over and she threw her arms around him. He pulled her closer and she sighed at the sensation of him threading his fingers through her hair.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Bo… I think I’m going to like remembering you.”
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

STEVE

The small band of former prisoners were finally liberated, and the group wasted no time in knocking out three other guards for the next phase of the plan.
Steve fought a smile, he and Hope borderline giddy as they helped load the guards’ unconscious bodies onto the cots that had just hours ago been set up for them instead. Donning the suits was a little less exciting; being led around from place to place with nothing but shock treatments, needles and a new set of cinder block walls to stare at every once in a while hadn’t warmed him to the sight of a white vinyl jumpsuit and black mask coming at him. The fabric bunched around his arms and legs and trapped his body heat like a sauna. He wondered how the guards managed to breathe while wearing these things. The mask appeared opaque but was translucent enough for someone with two good eyes to see through; but the added filter left Steve feeling claustrophobic as his good eye strained to peer through it.
Snagging their new key cards, they locked the door to their former cells behind them. Steve smirked when Hope smugly blew a “goodnight kiss” to the guard in her cell and mumbled, “Sweet dreams.”
Spacing themselves out, the staggered line quietly made their way down the hallway until they reached the elevator. They tried every card until one of them finally awarded them clearance to the third floor. The doors slid closed, granting them a moment of privacy. Steve slipped off his mask, squinting as his eye adjusted to the light again.
His mind raced.
He’d been dead, or at least, that’s what everyone was supposed to think. Without knowing the details, he couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of pain his family had been going through. He’d always wondered why he was in this place; and as a result, he’d spent so much time turning over the possibilities in his mind. Had he done something terrible? Was he being punished, or was he a victim? Had he been kidnapped; and if so, why was no one searching for him? Was the ransom too high? Or perhaps, and he’d assumed over time that this must have been the case, no one had wanted him at all.
Waves of guilt wracked through his very soul when he considered that, during all that time, he’d had a wife and a daughter who had suffered just as much, if not more than he had. No one had beaten them or locked them in a box; but in losing his memories, he had at least been spared the pain of missing them. At least, until now. He’d been someone’s husband, and someone’s father; something he couldn’t have allowed himself to believe was ever possible until tonight. And instead of mourning him and moving on like he assumed most other women would do, his wife hadn’t bought the ruse for more than five minutes. She’d been looking for him, without stopping or doubting, all this time. He couldn’t remember her face or her voice, but what he’d learned in the last half hour already told him that she was the strongest woman he’d ever known.
“Sweetness, yellow, anchor, courage…”
Without thinking, Steve brought his hands up to his chest, forming the sign for courage. His fists still clenched, he looked up to find Bo and Jack gaping at the sight.
“You’re remembering too, aren’t you?” Jack asked as he slipped off his mask as well.
“… Remember what?”
“You just…” Jack began, and then backed down. Steve looked down at his fists, confused. Where had that come from? WAS he remembering something?
“… Nevermind. We have to focus on the plan,” Jack backtracked. He put his mask back on, and urged Steve to do the same.
Through the shadowed scope of his vision, Steve eyed Hope standing beside Bo; their clasped hands squeezed before letting go as the doors opened. Soon, he hoped, he’d get to take his wife’s hand in his. Perhaps he could even remember all the times he’d done it before.

“A-TEAM”

The doors opened into a quiet, unlit hallway that branched into about four different locations. The group froze, and Jack fumbled for his clipboard.
“There’s nothing. No map. No list. Nothing,” Jack said. He angled his head down and spoke directly into his mouthpiece. “Well, it looks like we’re going to have to split up”
Shane came over the speaker. “Alright, keep me updated on what you see. I’m mapping this out as you go,” he said.
With four hallways to check and three tracking devices, Jennifer opted to go with Steve, while Bo stayed with Hope and Jack branched off solo.
“Check everything carefully, and then everyone meet back here at the elevator to try pathway number four,” said Jack. The other four nodded.
Jack reached out to pat Steve on the shoulder. “You take care of yourself and my girl here. I’ve promised too many people that you’re both coming home with me.”
Steve threw another thumbs up before ushering Jennifer down the corridor on the far left, and the others turned to follow their own paths.
 
CHAPTER NINETEEN

JENNIFER

Wordlessly, Steve led the way as they scoped out their assigned branch of hallways. Steve remained one step ahead of her, as if to shield her from any potential projectiles if they were caught. While slightly annoyed at the over-the-top chivalry, Jennifer also found it sort of endearing. Not much about his personality had changed, at least from what she’d seen so far.
They checked every door, noting every empty room and broom closet in their path as they ventured down each branch from left to right, backtracking and going down each hallway until they’d all started to look the same.
The search was pretty humdrum until one of the doors opened into a large room that had been packed with equipment. The piles were haphazardly stacked inside, leaving narrow pathways for them to wind through. The lights around them buzzed and flickered from the curved ceiling; the shields in front of their eyes translating the fluorescent glow around the room into a pale shade of blue.
Jennifer picked through the piles as they snaked their way around them, stopping when she found a large safe in one corner with the door slightly ajar.
Tiptoeing around a stack of delicate-looking machinery, she reached the safe and opened the door to see inside. There were dozens of cases bearing tiny vials of amber-colored liquid, and her hand traced each name until she stopped at two casings on the middle shelf.
“Stockton, Nick; and VonAmberg, Gina.”
Jennifer lifted the cases out of the safe, examining them carefully. Each vial glistened as she held them up towards the flickering lights overhead. The label was unhelpful; bearing only a quick scrawl of “limbiserum” across the white tape, along with the dosage sizes. She opened one to sniff the contents inside, and retched.
“What you got there, baby?” came Steve’s voice. He’d ventured slightly further into the stacks before realizing he’d lost her, and had quickly backtracked to find her admiring her morbid-but-helpful discovery.
“I think I might have found what they’ve been giving the two of you,” Jennifer said, handing over one of the vials. Steve grabbed it, turning the vial over in his hand to watch the thin liquid swim from one end of the tube to the other.
“Alright. What are we supposed to do with it?” he asked her.
“Take it with us. We have a team of doctors at home ready to decipher an antiserum. They said a sample of it would go a long way towards doing that.”
“Yeah? Your team have a lot of experience with things like this?”
“You’d be surprised what they’re capable of,” Jennifer said as she rose from her squatting position in front of the safe. Checking over her shoulder before they continued, she added, “Kayla’s one of them, you know.”
“One of the doctors?”
“Yep.”
Jennifer grinned at his look of astonishment before continuing.
Along a back wall, they found a row of desks with even more piles of computer equipment that had yet to be set up. They tiptoed around the mess of wires and cables, unsure of what to do next. And then Steve was suddenly at her side, pointing to the back corner of the room. She followed the direction to another door and a darkened window, illuminated slightly inside by the glow of a monitor.
“Bingo,” Jennifer whispered.

Moments later, the two were crouched at a small desk pushed against the front wall of the small room. Jennifer used her key to gain access to the mainframe, and tapped at the microphone on her collar.
“Shane, we’re in. Now what?” she asked.
“Remove your ankle monitor and turn it around. There’s a small drive clipped inside of it. Plug that into the computer and type in the code I give you,” he instructed.
She did this, occasionally glancing over to observe Steve watching thoughtfully.
“Anything I can do?” he offered.
“Keep watch,” she said. He nodded and moved to stand closer to the door.
Returning her attention to the screen in front of her, she completed the task Shane had given her. She punched in the numbers as he fed them to her, and a few moments later Shane had taken over the screen.
“Good job, Jen. Okay, I’m going to browse this for a bit if you want to check around where you are a little more.”
“Okay, ten-four.”
Jennifer stood up from the desk and turned to Steve, who was still watching her. She felt a twinge of pity as she took in his face. He looked so tired and even more confused. She was glad Kayla couldn’t see him like this.
“Alright, let’s fan out and check what we can. Shane is going to check back in with me when he finds something,” she relayed.
Steve nodded and, without any further chatter, they began picking through boxes and cabinets on opposite sides of the room.
Several minutes passed before Steve finally broke the silence.
“… Jennifer?”
“Yeah?
“… What does she look like?”
Jennifer turned back to him, his expression now pleading, and her heart broke. She’d been so focused on the task at hand that she hadn’t even thought to use the time they had to answer some of the poor man’s questions. Sparing Shane the distraction of her monologue, Jennifer removed her microphone clip and stuck it in her pocket. She then launched into every detail she could think of about Kayla, Stephanie, and the life Steve had waiting for him at home. Flipping through mountains of folders as she spoke, Steve remained silent, but hung onto every word. She could practically see him winding what she was telling him through the cogs of his mind, struggling to put everything together into something he recognized.
At one point, she stopped when Steve held up a hand, signaling for her to wait.
“I gave her something yellow once… didn’t I?” he asked her.
Jennifer stammered, remembering the dozens of yellow roses that Steve had given Kayla throughout their relationship. The two of them had a special claim to that flower; and more than once she’d seen Kayla traipsing around town with one of the yellow buds tucked into her blonde curls.
Before she could answer, his eye widened slightly, and he continued. “It was roses. I gave her roses.”
Jennifer was speechless. Her mind instantly went to the vial they’d procured and she removed it from her pocket. She looked from the vial, to Steve, and back again.
“I don’t get it,” she muttered.

“B-TEAM”

Shane was so focused on the screen in front of him that he jumped at John’s voice.
“Donovan, we’ve got someone here who’s offering to help.”
Shane spun around in his seat, jostling the equipment in front of him slightly as he took in the sight of John and Roman flanking a strange hooded figure, standing at the entrance to the surveillance van.
“Hello Shane,” a female voice spoke, driving a chill up Shane’s spine.
Shane lost his voice for a moment, his mind blank. The ISA hadn’t sent any backup, and he certainly didn’t recognize the voice he’d just heard. The area was barely illuminated by the screen behind him; but even in broad daylight he couldn’t have seen her face - she was keeping it shrouded. He could make out two eyes glinting from the darkness of her hood, and they regarded him calmly, but cautiously. John and Roman seemed relaxed enough, but they were obviously keeping a close watch over her, whoever she was.
Shane finally found his voice again long enough to squeak out, “Who in the hell are you?”
“A friend,” she answered simply, offering her hand as evidence as she had with Roman and John. He read the number inked onto the skin there, and gulped.
She’d been an inmate.
“She won’t give us her name; she said to call her ‘A.’” Roman commented.
“A… why won’t you tell us your real name?” Shane asked.
“Because I’ve learned to be cautious about who I trust,” the stranger bit back. Shane was taken aback, but logically he couldn’t see fit to blame her, if she’d really once been stuck in that place.
She continued. “I escaped from the facility a few months ago. The men inside think they succeeded in killing me when I escaped, but they were wrong.”
“Then why are you still here?” Shane asked.
A was silent for a moment, and then answered, “Because I know how to get the others out.”
“The others? As in, everyone?”
“Yes, everyone.”
Shane was confused. “Why not contact someone, bring in someone to help you?”
A chuckled. “As I already said. I don’t trust anyone. You never know who is really on your side in this place.”
“So, why not leave here, then?”
“I can’t. I can’t leave them here.”
“Them?”
Roman chuckled. “Wait until you hear this.”
A turned for a moment to dig for something under her cloak, then pulled out a vial. Shane held out his hand, and she plopped the cylinder into his palm.
Shane fumbled around in the dark for a light, clicking it on to read the label on the vial, and then gasped.
“Inmate #345. You’re here to help Hope?”
“And Steve,” A confirmed. “And the others. But the two of them have to make it out of there, no exceptions.”
Shane nodded. “We are in agreement on that, I assure you.”
A regarded them for a moment, before she spoke again.
“There is an underground escape hatch here. I can take you in from there. But we have to do it tonight before Alamain and Dr. Rolf reach the new facility. The vial I gave you is an antiserum. I’ve been switching the vials for the past few weeks, so they can have access to their memories again.”
The three of them were stymied. Whoever this woman was, she’d just single-handedly given them this victory on a solid gold platter with Belgium chocolates on top.
Before any of them could speak a word, the woman had turned, beckoning for Roman and John to follow. Before they were out of sight, Shane called out to her.
“Wait a minute… if you don’t trust anyone, not even enough to tell us who you are, then why are you helping us?” Shane asked.
A's answer left him with even more questions: “It isn’t who I am that’s important anymore. It’s who they are.”
 
Last edited:
CHAPTER 20

STEVE

Roses. He’d given her roses.
The memory was small and insignificant — what husband hasn’t given his wife a bouquet of flowers on at least one occasion? — but he relished in the detail of this memory: the color, the smell, the excitement he'd felt as he carried them into a hallway, and knocked on a large grey door. He remembered his breath hitching when he’d heard her footsteps on the other side. He remembered the door sliding open, and… that was it.
It was so small, so underwhelming, but it was a memory that was his. He could feel the shield in his mind weakening with just this one little chip. He just wished he knew what weapon it would take to make the entire thing come crashing down.
He was smiling, and then he noticed Jennifer staring at the vial they’d taken from the safe. She was confused.
“I don’t get it,” she’d muttered. Come to think of it, neither did he.
“What does this mean? Am I becoming immune to that or something?” Steve asked, gesturing to the vial.
Jennifer shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, Steve. But something’s going on here and we need to find out what it is.”
Jennifer reached into her pocket for her mouthpiece and popped it back onto her collar.
“Shane.”
A distracted voice replied, “Y-yeah?”
“Um… sorry, I know you’re busy hacking into the mainframe and all, but don’t you find it kind of strange that both Hope and Steve are remembering bits and pieces of their past?”
The silence from her earpiece stretched seconds into minutes, and she pressed further. “We got a really good look at the other inmates in this place, and they are barely blinking. Why are Steve and Hope the ONLY two inmates who are not only capable of functioning normally, but they’re also remembering? … Shane?! Hello?!”
The silence broke and Shane ordered, “Jennifer, go to the monitor.”
Jennifer stood and gestured to Steve, who followed her back to the computer. Sitting down, they observed the screen as Shane continued to manipulate the device. In the background, a complex program ran, spitting out line after line of 1s and 0s. Every once in a while, a string would turn red, then yellow, then green. As it continued, Shane had wormed his way into a stack of medical files, and he'd opened a document containing a string of phrases in a language that looked like a mix between Latin and Arabic.
“Alright everyone, listen up,” Shane commanded, and Jennifer was silent.

“A-TEAM”

From the inside of yet another empty room they’d just finished searching, Bo had heard Shane’s order and froze, reaching out a hand to stop Hope in her tracks. He pointed to his earpiece, thought for a second, and then took it out to hold between the two of them.
Jack had heard the command from the middle of the main hallway; and so he ducked into a washroom he’d cleared earlier to listen.
“John and Roman are making their way into the facility right now. They’ve made a new friend here who is willing to help us out.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Bo broke in.
“I’m getting to it, Bo, just listen to me,” Shane continued calmly. “Now, here’s the other amazing bit: as it turns out, our special friend here has been dosing Hope and Steve with antiserum to combat the effects of the limbiserum. That is why they are starting to remember.”
From the computer room, Jennifer pulled out the vial again and showed it to Steve. She mouthed “cure,” which left him dumbfounded. He gestured to the earpiece and Jennifer fumbled to take it out so they could share it.
“So wait, if they’ve been dosed with a cure to this serum, then why don’t they remember everything?” came Jack’s voice.
“That’s the part I’m trying to figure out here. Now I’ve had to skim through this fairly quickly, but according to the doctor’s notes in several of these case files, including Steve’s and Hope’s, the doctor has been mixing hypnotherapy in with shock treatments and consistent doses of this limbiserum in order to block their memories.”
On the screen, Shane pulled up Steve’s case file for Jennifer and Steve to see; followed by Hope’s, and then another patient’s.
Jennifer began to read: “Inmate #00045 has shown incredible resistance to simple hypnotherapy treatment; continues to recollect small memories from her past, retains cognitive process, cannot be controlled. Inmate has proven to be an excellent candidate for limbiserum dosage. Serum has been refined with…”
Jennifer stopped, unable to decipher the medical terms that followed. Her eyes widened when her skimming eyes reached the end: “… if candidate proves not to be viable host, an autopsy shall be conducted…”
“They were killing people with the serum,” she whispered, and Steve’s eye widened.
“Yes, Jennifer. Extensively. These people are test subjects and this doctor is an incredibly sick man,” said Shane. He pulled up another document, which contained line after line of posthumous notes on inmates dating back to the early 1970s.
“This ‘doctor’ looks to have gone through hundreds of revisions to the drug. In the early 1980s it looks like he finally eliminated the deadly effects of the serum, but it still left many others with extensive brain damage, and they were killed because they were too ‘damaged’ to control.”
There was a pause, and then he continued. “The patient file I pulled up here for you, Jennifer, is an inmate thought to have been ‘eliminated’ after she attempted an escape from the facility. According to the file, she broke free of her bonds while she was on the table, and jammed the needle into a guard’s neck.”
“Did it kill him?” Jennifer asked.
“No, but it forced them to come up with an antidote for the serum, which the inmate later came back for.”
“Wait, what?” came Jack’s voice.
“Yeah,” Shane chuckled. “The inmate made it outside and disappeared into some brush; and so the guards nuked the entire area with explosives, thinking they’d killed her. They swept the area and found what they believed were some remains; but as it turns out, she was nowhere near the blast zone when they hit.”
"How do you know that, though?" asked Jennifer.
“Because that inmate is currently leading Roman and John through an underground exit into the facility. Team, it's time for us to make our move.”
The team listened in carefully as Shane told them the plan. Without further questions, they each went to their stations.
Back at the computer, Shane pulled up another file, with another string of commands; this time, for the patients who had successfully been put under.
"It's time to do a little meddling of our own," Shane quipped.
 
CHAPTER 21

GUARD #51

Stamping out another cigarette from his second pack of the day, Mack sucked in one more gulp of nicotine-tainted fresh air before stepping back into the compound for his hourly rounds.
By his watch, it would be sunrise before too long, and the boss was late. They’d been awaiting Dr. Rolf’s and Lawrence Alamain’s arrival for going on two hours now, in addition to the rest of their crew. Thankfully, the sleeping medicine had done a good job in keeping the inmates subdued for the evening; but still, something about the quiet unnerved him.
He passed a few other guards as he made his rounds on the first floor. He finished early, and decided to use his extra time to check on inmates #345 and #346. Perhaps, he thought wickedly, he’d go ahead and pay that pretty little girl back for giving him lip earlier in the day.
She’d sure been a pretty little thing… he was going to enjoy this. His mind raced with the things he could get away with at this hour - thoughts that would make the average person sick.
He boarded the elevator and hit the button for the second floor. He tapped his foot during the ride, and was relieved when he stepped out to find the floor just as quiet as the first floor. Making his way down the hallway to the inmates’ cells, he replayed the confrontation with the other guard that had happened earlier that day.
Yeah, sure, he’d stepped over the line just a little bit. But what else was new? Countless other guards had roughed up an inmate or two over the years. And it’s not like these two didn’t deserve what they got. After watching their severe rejection of every treatment they’d been given during their time here, he figured they needed as much… extra discipline… as he could give them.
“Seriously, what is so special about these two?” he muttered to himself as he rounded the corner. Pausing in front of VonAmberg’s cell, he cleared his throat and tapped on the glass, getting no response.
“Alright, fine. We’ll do this the hard way,” Mack muttered, sliding his key card along the panel and opening the door. He stepped inside and stood over the cot where the inmate lay covered.
“Wake up, pretty thing. It’s time for your treatment.”
The inmate stirred, and then suddenly jumped forward into a sitting position, glancing around wildly. Mack jumped back in surprise.
“… Ralph?!` What are you doing here? Where is your suit?!”
Ralph was wide-eyed. “I don’t remember! I was on patrol and the next thing I know I’m in here!”
Just then, the lights in the hallway dimmed, and a series of clangs echoed through the hallway as every other door in the hallway sprang open.
The two guards panicked while the other guard that had been knocked out roused lazily from the cot in Steve’s former cell. Mack opened his mouth to speak before the loudspeaker clicked to life.
“Raptoribus vestrum subicite,” the voice spoke.
It was a Latin phrase Mack didn’t recognize, but he’d later learn what it meant: Subdue your captors.
A half-second of silence passed before the prisoners flooded the hallways to carry out their command.

THE ESCAPE

Bo and Hope had cleaned out an arsenal of tranq guns and were handing them off to inmates as they made their way back down the hallways to the second floor via an emergency stairwell. The inmates were robotic in their actions, so when they were approached the couple took turns muttering “verum amica” — “true friend,” according to the notes Shane had found. They’d been hesitant about this actually working as a makeshift passcode; but so far, every inmate had allowed them to pass unharmed.
The second floor was teeming with inmates as they overpowered the skeleton crew of guards. They were checked several times by their new army, and their little password became as automated as they actions they were seeing around them.
They eventually reached the escape hatch at the end of a long hallway. The duo waited until the coast was clear before making a break for it. Bo swiped his card — all of them now cleared for all levels, thanks to the B-Team — opening the door to a dark, musty tunnel, accessed by a ladder.
They waited there until backup had arrived.

When a black gloved hand reached up to grab the top rung of the ladder, Bo was waiting to hoist their new friend up and into the hallway. Inmate #00045 adjusted her hood and the covering over her mouth, and turned to meet Hope face to face.
The two of them stared at each other. Hope was confused at A’s smiling eyes, wondering where she’d seen eyes like them before. It was a memory buried so deep down, not rustling just under the surface like with other triggers she’d experienced.
The group had no time to talk. With Roman at the top of the ladder and John at the bottom, they began ushering inmates through the tunnel as they passed. Bo, Hope and A rushed up the stairs to help the rest of the group finish so they could head back down.
Back on the third floor, Jack was raiding boxes for vials labeled with the antiserum A had described to the team, loading them into a bag he'd found and emptied out from another part of the room. They would take as much as they could carry back home with them; and hopefully Kayla and Mike could recreate the drug once they were all safely back in Salem.
Steve and Jennifer were pilfering as many documents as they could find to implicate the doctor; stuffing another bag full. Behind them, the computer buzzed, Shane programming the technical aspects of the compound like a well-trained computer virus. The guards were outnumbered and the inmates were escaping. They’d done it.
Shane had used his tech skills to wire a copy of the phrases that had been used on patients during hypnosis. It was still nighttime in Salem, but Kayla was wide awake, translating the text and puzzling together a counter-phrase with Mike, who had arrived at the station.
With all the commotion, they’d moved operations out of the conference area and into Abe’s office. The radio ran at a steady volume as they worked, keeping the medical team updated on everyone’s progress.

“Verum amica,” Hope gasped as a group of inmates cornered them on their way to the stairwell. She pointed at the escape hatch, and they all nodded in unison before shuffling off. She breathed a sigh of relief that stuck in her throat mid-exhale as Bo grabbed her arm and pulled her through the doorway. Hope wasn’t used to getting this much exercise anymore, and she panted as they took the stairs to the third floor two at a time.
Halfway up, Bo swept her into his arms and started carrying her.
“Agh, Bo, stop. This isn’t necessary!” she wheezed.
“They’ve been underfeeding you and pumping you full of drugs. You don’t need to be exhausted on top of everything else,” Bo huffed.
Soon they were at the top, and A led them straight to the others.
Bo put her down, and she used a new burst of energy to run over to the rest of their team.
Steve was shoving case files into a backpack when Hope squealed and threw her arms around him, knocking the bag out of his hand.
“We’re getting out of here!” she cheered, and Steve laughed. Bo smiled at them and shook his head.
“Alright, I think we have everything we need here. Everything in this bag look good?” Jack asked. He opened the flap to the duffel, and A pulled her hood back slightly to survey the bottles. She gave a quick nod before he zipped the bag shut.
Hope helped Steve zip his over-filled bag shut before he heaved it onto his shoulder, and then returned to Bo’s side. He reached his hand forward to trace the curve of her chin, and she smiled at him.
“Ready to get out of here?” he asked her.
“More than you’ll ever know,” she breathed.
Turning to A, Hope reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.
“I don’t know who you are and why you’re doing this, but thank you,” Hope said, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.
“You are coming with us, right?” asked Jennifer.
A nodded, before adding, “If I can.”
“Of course you can. We owe you everything, A,” said Jennifer.
Hope had never met A before today, but she and Steve had heard enough whispers about her from the guards at night to put their version of her story together. They’d often pondered their own fate after hearing about inmate #00045, but they’d always ended those conversations the same when one or the other questioned their plans to escape one day: “Better dead than here.”
As the rest of the team double-checked their equipment, Bo took Hope in his arms again and pressed his lips against her forehead before meeting her gaze.
“When we get out of the tunnels and onto the plane, we’re going to reverse this block that they’ve put on you.”
“And then what?”
Bo smiled and gave her a soft kiss. “Then, Fancyface, we’re going home.”
But then a thick, strange voice sliced their air of victory, leaving them cold:
“Is that right?”
The group froze as the lights in the room flickered to life, illuminating a visitor at the doorway flanked by a team of heavily-armed guards: Dr. Wilhelm Rolf.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top