Terminal nightmares, p.1
Terminal Nightmares, page 1
Terminal Nightmares
By
Adam Baehr
Author’s Note
I first want to take the time to thank my intended audience; along with any newcomers to the genre of horror with a surrounding Government Conspiracy. I’m eternally grateful for the support and future feedback, albeit good or bad in the form of reviews. I firmly believe constructive criticism is a cornerstone to achieving greatness in any field. I gained inspiration to write this book by taking knowledge of what I love being horror in tandem with everything to do with mind-altering substances and the effects it has on our brains; though not advocating by any means to indulge in any illicit behavior.
The story is viewed through many different perspectives; attempting to juggle it as a debut author was an obstacle. I love a good challenge, and this task certainly threw one at me. If you had asked me two years ago if I saw myself writing a book longer than six pages, I would have laughed. Boredom brings out either the best or worst in us; in my case, it brought out a side of my creative talent that was trapped in a perpetual cycle of limbo. Finishing my debut book made me realize a handful of useful nuggets of wisdom about not only myself but what others may take away from my painstaking time and dedication spent writing Terminal Nightmares. The first being nothing in life is easy; anything worth doing is going to have insurmountable challenges that test your every fiber. The goal is to understand and compensate for the challenge ahead in a way that is healthy.
The amount of times I lost my mind writing this book is too many to count on ten individuals hands. I will confess I wouldn’t have it any other way. The second piece of advice is to never give up. A video that helped me immensely can be viewed on most social media sites. The speaker is Les Brown, and the title is, “Be Hungry.” Inspiration for days in my humble opinion; especially on days I wanted to give up and throw in the towel. The words he spoke about being hungry are pivotal in our daily lives to supersede our parent’s wildest dreams for us.
The difference between success and failure can honestly be attributed to a deep hunger and drive to want to succeed and strive towards your dreams and goals even as life pounds you into the ground. The third nugget I learned during the past year of writing is don’t be afraid to ask for help and lean on friends, family, and total strangers. The fact of the matter is that nobody can make it alone; anybody who swears they received no help in life is a blatant liar and a fraud. Remain humble and always seek to gain more understanding daily. My final nugget of wisdom of which all the chunks I have laid before you. I’m sure you have heard a thousand times is this; never under any circumstance believe that you have nothing left to learn. The moment you think this is the moment you have officially failed at life. My one regret is that I will not live long enough to experience everything life has to offer, which is why I read in the first place.
Thank you all again for your continued support in the future for the yet unreleased books to come and stay tuned on my Facebook page for all up-to-date info on future books at “Baehr’s Books.” Stay blessed. I pray that the majority of you enjoy the fruits of my labor with my debut book; understanding that I can’t appease everyone was critical for me to have come this far. Beware; this is a mature book with adult themes! My only hope is that you can overlook the grotesque scenes and vile language depicted in this book. Enjoying it for what it’s meant to be and following this series in the years to come. The themes and subject matter that I integrated into this book are more prevalent than ever, and while it may seem unnecessary to use some of the vocabulary, I assure you that every word I meticulously placed for a reason.
Dedication
I’m dedicating this book to my mom Patricia Baehr. I know this isn’t the path you envisioned for me years ago. I’m doing the best I can with the time given mom. I know there are a lot of mature themes in this book, but each one needs to be addressed and if God gave me the gift to write over preach; than I have to work with the gifts I was granted. I long for the day to see you again in Heaven. You will always be my number one inspiration to stay strong in the face of overwhelming odds. Thank you for everything, and I love you forever and ever.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter Epilogue
Chapter Acknowledgements
1
TITANPOINTE. Five-hundred and fifty feet of solid concrete and granite that soars above lower Manhattan like an Eagle; it’s also a known NSA hub for the entire East Coast. Located on 33 Thomas Street and being uglier than The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Designed to withstand a nuclear blast in the event of a significant terrorist attack, which thankfully hasn’t occurred on American soil in the last nine years since 9/11. The natives of New York know all about it. The only ones who habitually deny it is the Government.
Entering the elevator like any other day that implements biometric screening features along with a secondary authorization from the guard station underground. Special Agent Maxwell hits the call button and awaits further instruction. “Good mornin, Agent Maxwell.” Everyone just says Agent at the facility; making it more time efficient. “Place your thumb on the scanner.” Doing so upon request, it checks out after a second. “Thank you.” The intercom shuts off as the elevator descends into the abyss. A steel square of indestructible metal. Titanpointe is suggested to have three sub-basements, but there is a fourth under the direct supervision of the NSA.
The steady flow of the fluorescent bulbs beaming down feels like a neutron star to Agent Maxwell who is deep in thought. Leaning against the metal wall with hands in pockets, thinking about this coming weekend; avoiding thinking that today; June 5th is his 30th birthday. “Welp, it’s graduation day, along with my supposed surprise party later with a few guests; I’m sure to see Emma and Daniel,” speaking internally to not appear crazy. The cameras are monitored 24/7. Maxwell is flying out with Mason tomorrow to see Game 2 of the NBA Finals between the Lakers and Orlando. Mason likes Kobe Bryant; even sporting a few jerseys. The whole weekend is planned and ready to commence. Daniel is going to look after Amber while they have playdates with her closest friends.
A vibrating sensation pulls him back to reality. Pulling his phone out to see a text along with the background picture on his phone. The image was of him and his two babies on their first roller-coaster last year. The picture always makes him smile, thinking of all the more smiles to multiply as they grow older and experience life to the fullest. “Where you at old man?” Surprised that the text came through since halfway down there is little to no service outside of Government issued hardware. Thinking of a witty response to send back to Daniel; his service bars drop to zero, having to wait to reply in person.
Upon exiting the elevator, something instantly feels off-kilter to Maxwell. The atmosphere is an illusion of peace and harmony, but eight years on the force and five of those being undercover gave him strides of intuition over the masses. Unable to pinpoint the exact issue, he provides his badge to one of the guards at the front desk. Eric is what the guard's badge says, sporting a bodybuilder like physique with an NSA ballcap glued to his head, along with a pistol on his hip and the SMG leaning against the desk next to him, indicating he means business. Not caring if he was new or not Maxwell passes through the checkpoint. They’re always cycling agents and guards around constantly it seems, or, have been over the last year.
“Good Morning, Landon.’’ “Sorry, I mean Agent Maxwell.” “How are you doing today?” Agent Maxwell slightly turns his head upon entering the basement level after security verified the credentials to spot Emma sitting idly in front of her desk, playing with a Rubik’s Cube. “I’m doing alright Emma.” Scratching his right ear, which was a known tactic subconsciously to let himself and others who knew him see that he was unsure on how to reciprocate. The therapist he was seeing mentioned that he needed to work on opening up again after his girlfriend died giving birth to their twins eight years ago. Mason and Amber were his only reason for living now and have been over the past eight tumultuous years. Emma is working the cube like pizza dough and analyzing the potential pattern to complete it before speaking.
Maxwell always feels godawful for Emma, who was paralyzed in a car crash at eighteen from the waist down; super intelligent, yet humble at the fact. Never throwing the fact that she graduated summa cum laude with a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science. Always telling Landon not to feel bad. Approaching Emma’s desk now and stopping to try and break out of his shell. “Happy to hear.’’ “Today is graduation day and our first friendship anniversary.’’ “Are you excited?” The amount of energy Emma seems to pull out of thin air miraculously makes Maxwell jealous in a non-harmful way. Viewing Emma as a family member and noting he would do anything within reason to help her in any way possible. “I suppose,” Landon says in a hushed whisper; Emma
Peering into her emerald eyes which he knew were contacts illuminated the dark basement. The former brunette turned blonde with a heart of gold proudly proclaims, “I saw Agent Scott walk in fifteen minutes ago.” “Director Spells wanted to see him for something.” Laughing in tandem. “Typical of Daniel to one up me on Graduation Day by arriving before me,” Maxwell thinks to himself while finishing his can of coke that he purchased upon entering the building. No outside food or drinks was a strict rule, thankfully the cafeteria and vending machines were moderately priced. The temps were in the 90’s on this brutally hot-spring Friday.
Emma’s wheelchair was painted in a rainbow fashion to always denote hope at the other end. Since day one Maxwell was notified why Emma was working here, her father is Ethan Harper. Chief Oversight Officer in charge of assuring everything is above board. Director Spells may be god underground where the sun never shines, but above her is Emma’s dad. Being a stickler for the rules and refusing to break them. Agent Maxwell never seems to mind, having zero to hide, their friendship blossomed. “Nice dress, Emma.” Sporting a sleeve cut ruby red dress that accentuates all of her features that a twenty-two year old female would be endowed.
“Why thank you, Agent Maxwell.” An unwavering smile crossing her face. He was about the only person who treated her like an adult in this underground lair; always appreciating that fact. Most people treated Emma like a snitch and avoided her like the plague. Blushing slightly and turning her head so that Maxwell wouldn’t notice. Too late. Turning to face him again just in time to see him innocently wink at her; Maxwell wore a freshly pressed two-piece suit that was a tailored purple with an aqua blue tie. Always reminding Emma of a younger Clive Owen. “Knock, knock.” “Who’s there?” “Orange.” “Orange, who?” “Orange, you glad to see me?” Bursting out in an uncontrollable fit of laughter while co-workers and security alike peer at the unprofessional behavior. Emma and Maxwell don’t care.
“Clever but when are you one to tell jokes?” Asking with a smirk so to let Agent Maxwell know that is was utterly cute. “I’m not,” he mentions after catching his breath. “Mason told it to me this morning before attending school.” “Makes sense now.” “How are the kids doing, and when are they going to visit again?” “They’re doing great; growing up super-fast,” indicating with his hand how tall they both are now. Not sure; hopefully tonight because they keep saying how much they miss you and that silly Rubik’s Cube.” “Did you forget about the surprise party?” Mentioning it with air quotes and a smirk. “What surprise party?” Feigning having no idea of said party. Another hearty laugh, “I’ll be there, Agent Maxwell.” “Have you seen Doctor Fulton by chance; he owes me twenty bucks from the Lakers beating Orlando last night.” “You boys and your bets.” “He was with Director Spells.” “I’m sure you will find him next to her since they’re attached at the hip.” Maxwell begins to leave but not before grabbing Emma’s cube and rotating it again to mix it up. Tossing it back with a friendly smile.
“Happy Birthday Agent Maxwell,” a quirky smile attaches to Emma’s adorable face. Quickly turning around to signal for Emma to keep her voice down while simultaneously thanking her with a prayer hand gesture. Sauntering away towards the conference room where the ceremony was to take place for the initiation into the Agency, which was a subsection of the NSA but with far more leeway and a bigger budget. Walking briskly past identical cubicles and desks with people drooling over computer screens or speaking incoherently on the phone, some playing games on company time and others lounging about without a care in the world; either reading books or playing the PSP. “Big Government,” Maxwell thinks, shaking his head in shame. “If only people knew what the Government actually did for its citizens,” he feels with a stifled laugh.
Approaching the conference room ten minutes later; flattening his suit to appear crisp and fashionable. The checkered floor having made Maxwell’s head spin. Opening the doors to find the room empty. No tables nor chairs are set-up, and the place is pristine as always. A quizzitive look looms over Maxwell's face unsure of what is going on right now. “They said to be here by 8am, and it was 7:55,” talking to nobody in particular; scratching his head perplexed. Nobody besides the custodian is within a hundred feet of him. Instantly his world turns to black. The last thing he notes is a needle piercing his neck with a substance that he is sure could knock out a rhino. The custodian catches him as Agent Maxwell's body goes slack.
Unaware of the exact amount of time he was under, trying to calculate it internally. The room is pitch black, and his pockets have been emptied of all contents, including his watch, phone, and pen knife. “Another goddamn test,” he says out loud with an exasperated sigh indicating that he grows tired of them. Pacing the
room for what feels like an eternity but estimating it is an hour. Being trained and pushed to the limits of human endurance over the past year, this was nothing to Agent Maxwell. The lights all of the sudden burst on overhead as Maxwell shields his eyes temporarily. Six people enter the room expediently as Maxwell's eyes adjust.
Reeling back as his eyes start to focus again after being blinded by an Atom Bomb. Beginning to make out who has entered the room. Doctor Fulton, Agent Scott, two guards, Director Spells and Mason whom his dad called M&M. Bewilderment crowds the features of his face so to give away his thoughts. Training did jack shit when family is on the line. The guard points his pistol at Agent Maxwell who is fifteen feet against the other wall. “Son, everything is going to be just fine; I promise.” Unadulterated anger starts to boil in Agent Maxwell's blood. Uncompromising, in his newfound mission to protect his son. Director Spells steps forward a few feet with Mason in tow. “Now, why on Earth would you lie to your son Agent Maxwell?”
SS was her nickname, like the Waffen-SS during WW2 which were ruthless and unforgiving. Sofia Spells AKA SS. “I didn’t come from Mexico to deal with the same pathetic people as were down there crying about an opportunity,” speaking with an air of cockiness to rival Vegeta. “Granted, my parents got me a visa here at 14, so I could stand a chance at success, but nobody handed me anything.” A haughtiness surrounds SS as she speaks. “I labored tirelessly to have come this far in life; act like an adult and think logically and leave emotion outside; this is your final test,” saying it with a warped smile. “We didn’t spend roughly three million dollars training you so that you fall apart at the seams when trouble arises.”
Gaining situational awareness again, spotting Daniel beaten to a pulp and struggling to stand while being supported by Doctor Fulton. “What the hell did you do to Daniel?” “You were always sentimental, and that is one of your most unattractive traits Landon; pay no attention to him, do note that I have four more armed personnel in the hallway in case you opt in making a move. Noting the camera is shut off, and sure there are at least half a dozen guards behind the interrogation glass makes him uneasy. The table and chairs had been removed to make more room. “Where’s Amber?” The words barely scratching an audible tone. “Amber is safe and sound in school Agent Maxwell,” SS relays to her subordinate.
Four white walls, a white floor, and ceiling all played towards the psychological factor of this test. “Daddy, what is happening,” M&M asks while beginning to cry. “Listen to me, and it will all be ok.” Struggling not to tear up at the situation he is in all the while the gun points unwavering in his direction makes Maxwell antsy. M&M sneezes; allergic to the evil personification that exudes from SS; an incorruptible creature of God is what M sees is his son. “We can go to that ice cream parlor you love after this ok M&M; you can get the biggest ice cream in the world,” a lone tear breaks apart and rolls down Maxwell's left cheek. “Really?” Asking with a huge smile that not even Krampus could kill. “Really, sport.’’ The silence builds rapidly when no one dares speak or move for the next twenty seconds. Massive sweat build-up with a mix of musk and lack of deodorant from the guards deteriorates the typical smell of the interrogation room rapidly.
