Previously on Sherwood…

After accepting a job transporting live cargo through the most treacherous territory in the Range, Jackson Cole and his team meet a contingent of Force soldiers led by Lieutenant Peters and cross the barrier into Oz. When they stop for the night on the highway, Dustin and Archer discover that their cargo is actually healthy human beings packed into crates like sardines. Dustin wants to walk away from the job, but Jackson is determined to see it through. Dustin is about to leave when badgers attack. Six of the seven trucks are blasted to hell, and Dustin is critically injured. The remains of the transport drive frantically for Topeka:

Topeka Institute rested along the riverbank outside the urban reaches of the city. Jackson’s stomach began to unclench when he caught sight of the great concrete wall that separated the five square mile facility from the ghostly ruins.

“What’s that?” exclaimed Peters.

Thick black smoke billowed from within the stronghold’s walls. As they neared the entrance, they saw that the massive gates were warped and mangled. Beyond the breached entryway smoldered the wreckage of Topeka Institute.

“Ward 6”

1

Peters pulled to a stop near the ruined gates. Archer knelt in the back of the truck pressing Dr. Wilson’s coat firmly over Dustin’s stomach. “What’s going on out there?” she asked.

Gus wedged himself between two soldiers and called back to her, “The gate’s blown to pieces and it looks like they only got half a building standing up in there. It’s still on fire.”

     “Son of a bitch,” she hissed. Sweat stood out on Dustin’s forehead, and his cheeks looked deathly pale. “Hold on, Dusty.”

      “Someone’s coming out to meet us,” said Gus. “They got guns. Jake’s talking to them.”

      “Can you hear what they’re saying?” asked Archer.

      Gus paused, cocking an ear toward the conversation. “The bald guy with the scar just said they’ve closed the Institute. Ooh, Jake’s pissed.” He paused, listening. “Here comes the Lieutenant.”

      Archer looked down at her bloodstained hands. The jacket was nearly soaked to the sleeves. Come on, Jake, she thought. Do something!

      “They’re letting us through!” exclaimed Gus excitedly.

“Thank god,” breathed Archer.

The truck lurched forward, following the Institute’s sentinels to a concealed entrance on the western wall of the facility. They inched through the narrow doorway, the cab of the truck barely clearing the upper ledge.

The hidden entrance opened onto a tightly packed dirt road cutting through an expanse of farmland neatly sectioned off by wooden fences. The sun had just begun to rise when they passed a collection of mismatched buildings huddled together inside a small orchard. Women and children worked in a sizeable vegetable garden carefully plotted out between the trees. Rigid Force soldiers stood watch over them, rifles in hand. Are they protecting them or keeping them prisoner? Archer wondered. God almighty, why are we driving so slow?

The Kansas River formed a glittering turquoise belt through the middle of the compound. A formidable metal and concrete fortress lay in four sections, two on either bank. Immense waterwheels groaned like ailing old men as they dove into the river. An ugly bridge spanning the swollen waterway connected the four wings of the Institute. Black smoke peeled up from the eastern wing nearest the outer wall’s main gate.

      Archer’s stomach grew tight as they entered the southern wing through a rolling chain link gate topped with barbed wire coils. Soldiers looked down at them from the high watchtowers, their rifles trained on the intruding truck. Dustin was right. We should never have taken this job! We’re waltzing right into a prison like it’s a damn hotel. Archer inhaled deeply, forcing terror aside. Jake’ll get us out of this. He always does.

      The truck stopped outside the front doors. Doctors in faded scrubs ran gurneys out to the truck, quickly loading the injured to be taken into the hospital. A wiry young man and a middle-aged woman took Dustin. Dr. Wilson accompanied them inside. Archer tried to follow, but one of the doctors stopped her.

      “We’ll take it from here,” he said, a hint of threat belying his pleasant smile. Archer glanced down at the doctor’s pistol and returned to the truck without putting up a fight.

      Jackson and Lieutenant Peters spoke to a tall, thick-muscled soldier with a lumpy bald head and cold blue eyes. A smooth white scar pinched the skin along his skull into a thick ridge.

      Archer joined Gus just out of earshot. “Who’s that?” she asked.

      “Head of security,” Gus replied. “Lynch is his name. Captain Lynch.”

      Archer smirked. “That’s comforting.”

      Captain Lynch finished the conversation with a decisive nod and signaled to his men. Three Force soldiers jogged to his side. Jackson caught Archer’s eye and motioned her to follow as Lynch’s men led them into the Institute. The door sealed behind them with a hostile buzz and click. Harsh white light encompassed the bare hallway. The sterile, chemical smell that infused the air made Archer’s chest constrict. She clamped her fists, fighting panic.

I left my rifle on the highway, she thought. She lowered her hand to the pistol at her belt. There’s a few shots left at least. God I hate this place!  

      The facility seemed empty except for the rare orderly or nurse who quickly scurried away when they caught sight of the newcomers. Archer tried to keep a clear map in her mind of the twisting corridors, her stomach balling a little tighter each time they passed through a locking door. We’re never getting out of here.

      The light grew a little warmer and more hospitable as they entered a new branch of the Institute. Open offices with large sunny windows lined one side of the hall. A long, tinted window looked in on a sizeable library. Lynch took them to an office adjacent to the library. The bronze plaque on the door read Ingrid Stasi, PhD.

      Lynch knocked twice and opened the door. A gaunt woman with graying blonde hair and dark-circled hazel eyes looked up from a mound of paperwork. “What is it this time?” she asked.

      “The transport came in,” replied Lynch. “What’s left of it.”

      Her face sagged slightly, but her eyes betrayed no surprise. She rose from her seat and offered a hand to Jackson. “Ingrid Stasi. Head of Medicine.”

      Jackson shook her hand. “Jackson Cole.”

      Lieutenant Peters pushed forward. “Lieutenant Peters, RF-3.”

      Dr. Stasi shook his hand. “Of course. Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant.”

      “One of my team was injured,” said Jackson. “I want to see him.”

      “They took all of the injured through Ward 6,” interjected Lynch.

      Dr. Stasi nodded. “I assure you, they will be well taken care of, and we will let you know the moment you can see them. Captain Lynch, will you make sure that the Lieutenant and his men are settled in the Force barracks? I’m sure they would like to rest.”

      Lynch nodded and escorted the Lieutenant from the room. Jackson, Archer, and Gus remained behind. Dr. Stasi smiled pleasantly and gestured Jackson to sit down in the chair opposite her desk. Archer and Gus took seats along the wall near the door. 

      “Mr. Cole would you be so kind as to tell me exactly what happened?”

      “Badgers,” replied Jackson curtly.

      “Would you be able to tell me what they looked like?”

      Jackson glared at her. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before, doctor.”

      Archer tapped her knees impatiently. The throbbing pain, forgotten during the rush for Topeka, began to pommel her skull. Dustin’s blood still painted her hands crimson. We don’t have time for this, she thought.

      She crossed the room in two strides, her pistol pointed at Dr. Stasi’s head. “I’m going to make this easy for you.”

      “Archer!” barked Jackson.

      “Take us to Dustin right now, or I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

      “Archer, put the gun down!” ordered Jackson.

      The doors burst open, and soldiers poured into the room, their guns trained on Archer. Jackson seized her arm, his fingers immediately finding the right pressure point. She dropped the gun with a yelp. Jackson kicked the weapon out of her reach, stepping between Archer and the soldiers.

      Dr. Stasi lifted her hand. “It’s alright. Just a misunderstanding. Warren, if you would please relieve Mr. Cole and his friends of their weapons.” 

      A grim faced soldier collected their guns and knives.

      “I would like to have a word with Mr. Cole, alone,” said Dr. Stasi. “Take our friends to the guest quarters, please, and make sure that they have whatever they need. Thank you, Warren. ”

      Warren prodded Archer with the tip of his rifle. She glared at Jackson and followed the soldiers back into the hallway. Warren guided them through another long corridor, and up three flights of stairs to the top floor. Here the hall floors were attired with brown and yellow diamond patterned carpet. Black and white photographs of young, smiling faces hung in wooden frames on the walls. Warren opened the door to a small bedroom with a set of bunk beds on either side. An apple wood desk with a lamp stood between them. The tiny square window looked out over the river.

      “It would be best if you stayed on this level for your own safety,” said Warren stiffly. “Showers are back down the hall on the right. Someone will bring clean clothes.”

      “Thanks, I don’t think we’ll be staying that long,” returned Archer dismissively.

      Warren continued, ignoring her. “If you’re hungry, the cafeteria is around the corner on the left.”

      “Open bar?” asked Archer.

      Warren shook his head, replying matter-of-factly, “There is no alcohol consumption on the premises.”

Archer rolled her eyes at Gus. “What about our friend? The one you’ve got in Ward 6 or wherever?”

“Dr. Stasi will keep you informed,” Warren replied, his face blank.

He left them alone. Gus sprawled out on a bunk, the springs squealing beneath him.

Archer listened at the door until Warren’s footsteps died away. “We better get moving before Nurse Ratchet gets back to check on us.”

“Who?” asked Gus frowning.

Archer shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we wait ‘til Jake gets back?” asked Gus.

“I’m going to find Ward 6,” snapped Archer. “Are you coming or not?”

Gus climbed to his feet, rolling his eyes. “Sí, sí. I’m coming.”

2

Dr. Stasi studied him with hands folded on the desk. Jackson returned her gaze with unflinching intensity. Though she looked worn to the bone, the shrewdness behind her eyes remained undimmed. She’s a tricky one, he thought. Don’t underestimate her.

“Do you know what we do here, Mr. Cole?”

“Looks like a prison to me,” answered Jackson.

“Our walls are simply to keep what’s out there from coming in,” replied Dr. Stasi.

“Kinda hard to do when your front gate’s blasted to hell.” 

Dr. Stasi nodded. “A minor mishap. Topeka Institute is dedicated to discovering new avenues for medicine that we hope will one day allow us to rise above our tragedy and create an even greater society than that of the Technical Age.”

“Isn’t that how this all started in the first place?” asked Jackson.

“We’ve grown a great deal since then.”

“Using humans as lab rats?” Jackson needled. “Some growth.”

Dr. Stasi fixed him with cold, appraising eyes. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, Mr. Cole. Whether or not they’re true is immaterial. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t ask questions of me and I won’t ask any of you.”

“What is it that you want, doctor?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me,” she replied.

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “That’s all?”

“It is extremely important that this information stays in the right hands. No one can know that you are carrying it. Not even your team. For their own safety.”

“If it’s so important, why trust me with it?” asked Jackson. “Why not send your watchdog, Lynch?”

“Like I said, this information must remain in the right hands.” 

“And if I don’t?” asked Jackson.

Dr. Stasi folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “Unfortunately, Mr. Cole, our facilities have been compromised in the explosion, and there is nothing we can do for your injured comrade.”

Jackson eyed her dangerously. Though her face remained unyielding, a triumphant smile creased her eyes. Dr. Stasi lifted a key on a thin silver chain around her neck and unlocked one of her desk drawers. She retrieved a small black flash drive of the kind used in turn of the century computers. Like the one the Johanssons have back at Sherwood, Jackson thought.

“The contact is in Seattle. Go to the post office at 91 South Jackson Street.” She handed him a small white envelope addressed to AAD Box 9250. “Leave this with the postmaster. Check into the Edgewater Hotel under the name John Potter. He’ll find you.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to get to Seattle without my team noticing?”

“I’ve heard there’s a great deal of work in Washington,” replied Dr. Stasi. “Perhaps you’ve heard the same?”

Jackson accepted the letter and the flash drive, tucking them safely into his inside jacket pocket. “I want the twenty thousand you owe for the trip here, another twenty for delivery to Seattle, and fifteen for the cloak and dagger bullshit.”  

Dr. Stasi smiled frigidly. “I think that can be arranged.”

3

Dustin woke with a sudden shock like a lightning bolt to the chest. He tried to jump upright but restraints at his wrists and ankles held him securely to the hard, metal-framed bed. He blinked his eyes rapidly. The monitors and equipment surrounding him pulsed in and out of obscurity.

Panic coiled around his lungs like an angry python. What the hell happened? he thought. Memories of the past few days slowly solidified from hazy dreams. He remembered the long, torturous train ride from Tucson; the rendezvous with the Force team; crossing the barrier; and the weasel-faced doctor opening the crate with the bodies packed together like livestock bound for the slaughterhouse. What happened after? Badgers! His head felt like a lump of iron as he lifted it to examine the damage. A white sheet covered him from the waist down, but no marks or gashes marred his exposed skin; not even a bruise remained. What’s going on? Dustin inhaled slowly, letting his taut insides calm.

A faint voice from across the room brought his gaze to a tall man in a white lab coat hunched over a microscope at the other end of the room. The man muttered something undistinguishable and picked up the phone on the desk beside him. “It’s King,” he announced. “Get me Doctor Stasi.” He paused a moment, waiting. “I checked the blood samples from the patient you brought in. I’ve found something.”

A voice droned on the other end of the line, though Dustin could not make it out. “No,” Dr. King replied. “There’s no sign of infection, and he’s undergone full tissue regeneration. His blood shows the same anomaly that presented in subject 432…Yes I’m certain. I’ve checked the samples twenty times. There’s no doubt.”

The other voice buzzed sternly, and Dr. King nodded. “Ok.”

He replaced the receiver and, with a heavy sigh, hunched over the microscope again.

Dustin tugged against his restraints, but they bit into his wrists stubbornly. What had happened to Jackson and the others? Were they even alive? He remembered someone lifting him into a truck and Archer’s voice pleading, “Stay with me.”

Those force bastards must’ve sold us out. Which means Jake and Archer are most likely getting dissected somewhere in here. Dustin lifted his head and called, “Hey! You in the coat!”

Dr. King jumped, nearly upsetting the microscope. He faced Dustin, his hostility sparsely veiled behind a smile. “Just lay back and relax. Your injuries were very severe, and you can use all the rest you can get.”

“Sure. Being tied to a bed is very relaxing,” shot Dustin.

Dr. King nodded, his sharp green eyes unreadable. “The restraints are for your own protection.”

Dustin glared at him. “I appreciate the gesture. You wanna untie me now?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. There are still a few tests to run.”

“What tests?” demanded Dustin.

“Just a few tests to determine if it’s safe for you to return to the surface.”

“If it’s safe?” snapped Dustin.

“We are aware of what caused your injuries. It’s necessary to take every precaution to be certain you are not contaminated.”

“Well I don’t remember the thing bleeding on me. And unless that badger and I had a one-night-stand that’s slipped my mind, I’m thinking I’m safe.”

Dr. King crossed the room to a cupboard near his desk. They’re never gonna let me out. I’ve got something they want. Dustin craned his neck to get a better look. “So what’s so interesting about my blood?” he called.

“Nothing special. It’s just blood,” replied Dr. King pleasantly, returning with a syringe in his hand.

“What’re you doing with that?” asked Dustin warily.

“Just a mild sedative,” answered Dr. King with a tight smile. “It’ll help calm your nerves.”

“Oh they’re calm,” snarled Dustin. He struggled, picturing his bonds snapping like old rubber bands, but they held fast.

“Just relax, breathe easy,” said the doctor soothingly. The needle jabbed into Dustin’s neck like a hornet stinger. Prickling numbness spread down his neck.

Dr. King straightened as the door burst open. The room began to grow distant, but Archer’s brash twang jolted Dustin back to consciousness.

“Back up. Ass to the wall, unless you like to chew on lead.”

Dr. King dropped the syringe and backed away from the bed, hands raised. Dustin smiled groggily as Archer’s face appeared above him. She frowned, her cobalt eyes sweeping over him. “You ok, Dusty?” she asked.

“You look like an angel,” he grinned.

Archer raised an eyebrow. “You’re stoned. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

She unfastened the restraints with one hand, keeping the gun trained on Dr. King’s forehead. Dustin sat up slowly, rubbing his sore wrists. He blinked groggily. “Archer, I think I’m naked.”

“Good point.” Archer shook the gun at Dr. King. “You, take off your pants.”

With a little help, Dustin managed to step into Dr. King’s faded scrubs. Archer drove the butt of her gun against the unfortunate doctor’s skull, and he slumped into an unconscious heap. The two runaways staggered down a dim hallway lined with barred cells. Dustin gaped at the stooped, deformed creatures that hunched despairingly in the rot and refuse of their prison. Thick chains connected to the wall ran through steel collars around their throats.

Archer heaved Dustin up as his knees buckled. “Come on, big guy. Snap out of it.”

Dustin rubbed his eyes, unable to tear the cobwebs from his brain. Archer threw open the double doors at the end of the hallway, her gun at ready. Dustin squinted against the bright florescent lights. Waxy-faced bodies lay strapped to metal gurneys, some missing limbs, others gaping open at the chest, organs on display.

“What the hell is this place?” sputtered Dustin.

“Welcome to Ward 6,” grunted Archer. “Looks like Topeka Institute’s got a lot of skeletons in its basement.”

A shrieking siren wrenched Dustin into full wakefulness. Cursing, Archer seized his hand, and they bolted through the gruesome labyrinth. Before they reached the exit, a line of uniformed Force soldiers hustled through the doors, forming a human barricade. Dustin and Archer dove to the ground in time for two deformed cadavers to receive the brunt of the fire.

Archer rolled to her knees, leveling the gun. The cartridge clicked empty. “Son of a bitch!” she roared, dropping to her stomach. Bullets ricocheted from the gurney where her head had been seconds before.

A fearsome cry soared above the shrill siren. The troops scattered as a stampede of runaway gurneys bowled through them from behind. A shower of sparks exploded in their wake, popping and hissing like little demons. Dustin looked up in time to see Gus’s stout figure hurtle through the doors brandishing a dust mop with whirling fury. Archer leaped to her feet and made a break for the door. Dustin followed, driving through the remaining soldiers with elbows and fists.

“Split up, she says!” shouted Gus heatedly. “I’d’ve come up with a better escape plan if I hadn’t spent the last hour searching the whole damn slaughterhouse for you!”

“Maybe we would’ve done better if you’d managed to grab me a loaded gun!” Archer shot back. 

The three renegades charged through the empty corridors, twisting and turning until Dustin felt certain they would never find their way out again.

“There it is!” shouted Archer. A caged-in elevator stood open next to a sheer concrete wall that stretched up and up into blackness.

“How deep are we?” exclaimed Dustin.

“About half a mile underground,” answered Archer.

They dashed into the cage, and Gus slammed the door shut behind them. Archer jabbed a series of buttons on the console. The elevator rattled violently, shooting upward at an alarming speed. Harsh light flooded through the top of the shaft. The elevator slammed to a stop, nearly knocking Dustin from his feet. Gus pushed the door open, and they stepped into yet another whitewashed hallway.   

Soldiers swarmed from both sides of the corridor, surrounding them in a bristling forest of firearms. A colossal skinhead with a vicious scar called out to them, “On the ground, now. Hands behind your heads.”

Dustin glanced to his companions, and all three dropped slowly to their knees.

An authoritative voice rang out from behind. “Weapons down! Move aside.”

A haggard woman in an equally tired pantsuit stepped through the circle.

“This is a security matter, Dr. Stasi,” snarled the bald-headed commando. “That’s my jurisdiction.”

Dr. Stasi eyed him disdainfully. “Under section A-52 subsection 96 of the New Accords, all matters inside Institute walls fall to the Head of Medicine. That’s my jurisdiction.”

She motioned to the three captives. Dustin, Archer, and Gus rose to their feet, following the Dr. Stasi through Topeka Institute’s sterile halls to a massive airlocked door. The doctor punched in a code and the door hissed open. She ushered them through a vacant yard where Jackson waited with four horses. Dustin caught his brother’s eye, a rush of silent relief passing between them.

“Hats off to you, boss,” crowed Gus. “I didn’t think you’d get us out of this one.”

“You okay, Dust?” asked Jackson.

“I’m in one piece,” answered Dustin.

“That’s better than when we came in,” said Gus.

“How about we save the teary reunion till after we get outta this hellhole,” Archer interjected.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Dustin.

They mounted their horses, and the great chain-link fence rolled back. The stony lump weighting Dustin’s chest eased as they passed into open pasture. His hand strayed to his unscathed midsection. I should be dead right now, he thought. What did that doctor mean about an anomaly in the blood? He glanced back at the bleak stronghold growing distant behind them, a bitter pang in the pit of his stomach. This isn’t over by a long shot.