Protect All Monsters Read online

  The slumbering group in the chamber were dogs and humans bred together. “That’s just sick. Activists are okay, but extremists are douche bags.”

  There was one page left, and she was growing more and more anxious for a drink. Her stomach rumbled with hunger despite the unnerving information. It would take time to sink in, and she couldn’t starve herself in the meantime. She needed all her wits and strength.

  The final section read Ghosts.

  Ghosts are harmless, but they can serve as a distraction to humans. They can haunt their tormenters or those who crossed them during their living years. Ghosts are essentially reflections. They can manifest themselves inside mirrors, glass and anything reflective. Ghosts can channel their energy into speaking as well, though it takes them time to save up ethereal strength. Ghosts originate from a person’s soul. Souls are essentially ghosts. The soul is a battery, if you will, that is charged up fully during life, but in death, the battery is weakened and needs revamping often. Speculation of the existence of these spirits is focused on the electrical and sound waves that are shot back and forth across the country. The spirits residing in the dead are shaken free by so many hertz of sound waves. This is also an explanation as to how ghosts recharge themselves. Scientist Jorg Orback determined a ghost can hold as many as one thousand volts of energy at a time. Ghosts reside on the island because in collective groups, they are at their strongest, and they are always trying to reach out to the living. Here at the PAM Complex, we acknowledge their existence, and this is the probable reason why they stay with us.

  Thank you for reading the above entries. This is as unbelievable as it is true. The evidence is at the PAM Complex. Upon entering the facility, you will be assigned a work area and receive a crash course in your duties. You will be equipped with weapons, a room and a map of the facility. Please reserve questions for the classroom. You will be taking a week-long course in protection and engagement of our unusual guests. Any further questions should be addressed to the seasoned staff under Carl Brenner’s command, director of the PAM Complex.

  Addey tossed aside the file and stretched.

  She decided to go topside for a hard drink.

  Chapter Eight

  The cafeteria on deck was an elaborate bistro and bar, like one out of a high-end cruise ship. Her original plan was to douse her palate in hard liquor, but then she caught sight of the row of sizzling rib-eye steaks in the dining area and couldn’t resist. She asked the rosy-cheeked chef wearing a dull expression for a well-done slab. The man added a football-size baked potato with a dollop of sour cream, sprinkling on chives, a wad of butter and bacon bits without her asking. The buffet set up nearby was anything but cheap or disappointing. Crab legs and lobsters were on display among jumbo and butterfly shrimp. Racks of barbecue ribs and homemade baked beans were beside the two-inch-thick steak burger display. There was an alcove with a female chef awaiting any command. The sign over the slot read, Order Anything You Want Here. She watched a man order an ice cream sundae and five freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

  After gawking at the many food options, she sat down at a table and doused her steak in sauce. She then enjoyed an unimpeded view of the flat ocean.

  This is the best meal I’ve had, well, since last Thanksgiving.

  “You’d think this was our last meal before sitting in the electric chair.”

  She had enjoyed one succulent bite before she was interrupted by the stranger’s comment. The man wore a safari hat, black khakis and a white button-up shirt. His embroidered breast pocket read Herman.

  “You’d think so.” She turned her head up to him. She suddenly wanted company. “Have a seat, Herman. I’m Addey.”

  Herman was African American with dark-coffee skin. He wore an astute expression, teacher-wise in the face. His beard was neatly trimmed, the color matching the downy white on his head. He placed a forty-ounce, tall glass of beer on the table as well as a plate that matched hers. They sat together quietly until Herman broke the ice. He pointed at the random individuals spread out around the seating area. She counted twenty people. Some were alone, others intentionally huddled together, chatting nonstop therapeutically.

  “The food and booze are loosening us up,” Herman said. “But this isn’t going to be a fun ride once this cruise ship parks at that island. I haven’t stopped casing out this place. We’re forced to be here, and I haven’t forgotten that. Nobody’s safe. We’re here to do a job nobody else in the world knows about or wants to do.”

  He set her attention to the couple at the table closest to them. “That’s Todd and Angela Weathers. They told me their story. They were on their honeymoon in Amsterdam. They were arrested trying to smuggle weed out of the country, and they were sent here on this crew ship. They’re a pair of hippies. Organic this and that, add patchouli, and presto, you’ve got hemp, you know what I mean? They’re only eating vegetables and drinking plum wine. Still being healthy. Even now.

  “And then there’s Todd Lamberson.” He pointed to the man at the head of the crowded table jabbering on during a beer-fueled conversation. “He worked in Detroit, a serious crime district. He was shot up in a drive-by, and he spent six months in a private hospital. He didn’t get to see his wife and children ever again. They told his family he was dead. Closed-casket funeral. After convalescing, his ass was put on this cruise ship. Poor bastard.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t talked to everybody yet. I saw you and decided to ask you your story.”

  She frowned. “I’ll give you the simple version after you tell me yours.”

  He smiled with his eyes. “Hey, I’m only trying to make friends.”

  “I’ll be your friend, so what’s the problem? Speak up.”

  He slugged a quarter of his beer, then humored her. “I was a carpenter for twenty-two years. I survived without cutting off any of my limbs.” He dangled his fingers in front of his face. “I was with my wife when they took me. We were actually boating at Lake Michigan, what was a getaway, fun trip. Kelly drove us down there in her Winnebago. We came back from an afternoon of boating to catch a group of thieves ransacking the vehicle. Kelly screamed, and it was snap-of-the-finger fast what happened.”

  His expression went to stone. “She was dead. Shot in the chest. I was shot two times in the chest, but they didn’t hit my lungs or any major organs. I’m like Todd Lamberson. I wake up in a hospital without a clue, and then they deliver me here. That’s the damage. Can’t do shit about it. They buried Kelly in Virginia, and I’m here. I’m dead on paper. Dead to anyone who cares.”

  Addey shook her head. She’d done that a lot during the past thirty or so hours, and her neck ached. “So am I, Herman, and it sucks. It sounds like all of us are being exploited. After my brother died, I ended up here. He was shot dead in front of my face. Deke tried to rob the hotel I worked at because he wanted access to a wall safe. The manager had a different idea, and they both shot each other dead. Senseless. Then a fake police car and a fake police chief take me to a fake police station, and I’m inducted into this line of work. Two years’ contract my ass; this is forever.”

  “How could they have it any other way?” He enjoyed another gulp of beer. “We might as well live life to the fullest regardless, as impossible as that seems right now.”

  She shoved the plate aside. The bitterness coursing through her body snuffed her appetite. “I need a drink.”

  She left the plate and Herman, but he was at her heels in pursuit. “Hey, I’ll join you.”

  “It’s a free country.”

  The bar was located across the food court in a circle island with a tiki-style roof. The man at the bar was older, in his sixties. He wore a black vest and white button-up shirt. His face was bored like the other chefs, ready to take an order to have it filled and be done with it.

  She plopped on a stool and asked the bartender, “Give me a double shot of your best vodka.”

  “You’ve got it, ma’am.”

  He poured it, and she hammered it down
with a vengeance. Herman leaned against the bar. “Say, barkeep, do you have any cigars by any chance?”

  “My own,” the man dug under the counter, “but I’ll share. A good Monte Cristo will do you justice. You deserve it. I couldn’t do what you folks are going to be doing. That’s why I’m glad I got this gig.” He poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it. “It’s kinda lonely, though. And the vertigo’s a bitch when I do get off this thing every now and again.”

  “How did they pin you down?” she inquired.

  The barkeep frowned. “I’m not at liberty to say.” The man rearranged the beer mugs overhead, dusting them off.

  She laughed softly. “Conversation time is over.”

  Herman lit his cigar and asked her, “I do have something else to ask you. Do you think that packet we read was horseshit, or what?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  He leaned in closer. “I saw you sneak below. What did you see?”

  She knew there was a motive for his visit. He was as interested as her in what they were getting into. The others at the table yukked it up to escape the future reality, and she couldn’t blame them, but she was scared, and the shot of alcohol only muted that lurking fear.

  Addey asked the barkeep for another double shot—something she’d sip and nurse on for a time. A cloud of grayish-white smoke was unleashed from Herman’s thick lips. He closed his eyes and hummed softly under his breath. “Mmmm, that’s a fine cigar.”

  “I think everything they claim is correct,” she began. “The picture of the pack of wolves is real. I saw a few of them sleeping behind cages. There are also stockpiles of supplies, like human bodies, animals and organs and blood. All kinds of gross shit. They’re feeding the monsters all right, and we’re the caregivers to the damn things.”

  Herman finished his beer and asked for a shot of whiskey. He challenged her to finish her double shot with him. She did so after little chiding, but afterward, she decided to slow down. Four shots would keep her mellow, though she didn’t want to be stinking drunk when she arrived on the island.

  “I swear I saw a vampire when I was a teenager,” he said. “I was driving on a country road with my girlfriend at the time. Just wasting time, you know, what teenagers do when they’re looking for a place to hug and kiss. The town called this clearing in the woods Lover’s Lane. How original, right?” He winked. “We’re at that point I pull down the backseat of her dad’s cherry Cadillac. But then something smashes the back window, reaches through and bites my shoulder. Really bit it, you understand?”

  He pulls over his work shirt to show her a series of white puckered scars in the shape of teeth over his deltoid. “The teeth punctured through, and he sucked up the blood.” Herman’s eyes were wide. “I caught a face. Slit eyes. Sharpened teeth. Forked tongue. The police tried to say it was Parker Adams who’d escaped from the booby hatch the previous week. He was later found bloated and dead in the creek days after my ordeal. Authorities think he was taking a dip and smashed his head on a rock and drowned. But that wasn’t Parker Adams who sucked the blood from my wounds.

  “And you know, every now and then, I run into people, whether it’s in crowded traffic or busy restaurants, or on the bus, that just don’t look right. Barely human, or they’re trying too hard to mimic us. People get into scrapes that should’ve cost their lives, and they come out of it healthy in the end. My point is, I believe in monsters. The others I’ve talked to—especially those hippies—think it’s bullshit. But I know. I know.”

  “I believe in what I see,” Addey said. “The wolves do exist. Absolutely. I was stopped before I could see into another chamber. They were like rooms of an asylum, but the peepholes were blocked with tarps and blankets. What I don’t get is why not kill them? How hard would it be?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Richard said, sitting next to them uninvited. He had ordered a Guinness and sucked on the foamy head. “Yeah, we could firebomb the island into smithereens. That would be fun to watch too. But vampires, zombies and werewolves keep popping up in other countries, including our own. The problem isn’t conquered, and there’s so many already, it’s cheaper and safer to keep them appeased and content through the work we do. We can’t fight them on our homeland. A certain demographic would raise hell, start shooting people that aren’t monsters, and that’s the problem. Innocent people would get murdered and the laws of nature would take hold. Nobody would survive that long term.”

  Herman enjoyed the speech, but he was dying to break in on Richard’s explanation. “The government has gone to a lot of trouble to kidnap us. There has to be more to it than that. What do these monsters do that’s worth lavishing them with food and shelter and safety?”

  She eyed Richard, feeling sorry for the man who absorbed the blame. He was a cog in the machine. He wasn’t the machine itself. “Richard’s like us, Herman. He works with them because he has to. It’s not like he drew up the plans and picked you for the unlucky lottery.”

  Richard lightened his countenance. He wasn’t used to anybody sticking up for him, and he appreciated it. Then he confessed the real reason for the island. “Mutually assured destruction.”

  Herman sucked in another toke of his cigar. “Excuse me?”

  “You remember the Cold War? Mutually assured destruction? Everybody can produce these atomic and nuclear weapons, but they don’t have an island full of creatures at their disposal.”

  “Or do they?” Herman challenged.

  “Nobody else can afford spending the money we’ve piled into this project. This costs billions a year. Billions.”

  “No wonder public schools suck,” Addey said. “Our money goes to stealing people and feeding monsters.”

  Richard pounded his fist against the counter. “This is very necessary. Monsters would decimate the poor third world countries, and then we’d be next. We’d be outnumbered rather quickly. We’re studying them for weaknesses so if they do decide to rise up, we can put them right back down. And this is a scientific anomaly. Monsters aren’t supposed to exist. We have to monitor and study them. I suppose if life on Mars beamed down from space saucers, you’d want to waste ’em before we got to know them. Is that what you’d do?

  “These monsters have been around for centuries, some of them, but actually studied, they’ve only been under a microscope for maybe fifty years. How long have we been trying to cure cancer and AIDS? These studies and findings and conclusions take many years to make. And it’s not like the monsters are allowing us to take blood samples, and they sure as shit don’t fill out surveys or tell us about their lineage and family trees.”

  She wasn’t sure about studying them, but protecting them from civilians struck true to her. “Herman, what did you do when you were at Lover’s Lane? Did you throw punches at what bit you?”

  He shook his head. “No, no, I just did whatever the hell I could to escape. I'm damn lucky I did.”

  “Exactly. You couldn’t fight them. The majority of the people wouldn’t know how to protect themselves. Americans don’t want chaos. They want safety, the good life. When you think about it, America’s never really been a war zone, aside from centuries ago when we were colonists. We wouldn’t stand a chance against the monsters.”

  “I beg to differ.” Herman enjoyed the last word. “I think we’d come up with some impressive war ingenuity. You’d be surprised what we could accomplish with the right motivation.”

  Richard finished his Guinness. “It doesn’t matter what we think or believe. Hindsight won’t change this project. If it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it. It’s worked for now; why not keep it going? Maybe one day we’ll see the end of this. Until then, there’s work to do.”

  The man retreated up a set of stairs into a tower that led to the observation deck.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that guy.” Herman eyed where the man had been sitting with distaste. “Pent up or crazy. I don’t know which.”

  “I’m sure we’ll both be that way eventually
, if not worse. He’s seen a lot of things, probably.”

  Herman sighed. “We’re here for good, aren’t we?”

  She absorbed Herman’s question. “Until we’re dead.”

  Chapter Nine

  She secluded herself from any more conversations after she said good-bye to Herman. The afternoon passed at a crawl. She was tipsy, though the sensation was short-lived and later gave her a headache. Bored of staring out at the ocean, she returned to her room to study the monster files again. Looking them over, she decided the photos were genuine.

  The solitary confinement of the small quarters quickly shot her back onto the main deck. The people stayed together at the food court in a protective group. Darkness was beginning to fall. It was around six or seven o’clock when a loudspeaker from the observation deck announced, “Arriving at the complex in approximately fifteen minutes. Be ready to disembark. Follow our instructions. Do not walk freely into the complex. You will be told where to go. Please follow instructions or risk your personal safety.”

  The island was a distant speck on the horizon.

  Herman walked up beside her. “There she is, PAM herself.”

  The rise in her stomach delivered a queasy spell. She leaned against the bar, pressing her forehead against the cool surface. Blood rushed to her head; then the sensation passed.

  “Are you having seconds thoughts, missy?” Herman joked. “Oh, we’ll just catch the next boat out of here then.”

  Go to hell. “Very funny.”

  Richard had stepped down from the lookout tower and overheard Herman’s last statement. “You’d be an idiot not to be scared.” Then he spoke into the bullhorn he was holding. “Everybody, please line up at the east wing of the ship to disembark. We’re about five minutes from parking this thing. Stay calm. Single file. Follow instructions or risk your safety. You will be told what to do and when to do it, so reserve your questions.”