The One Thousand: Book Four: Deconstructing the Nightmare: The One Thousand, #4

By John Walters

Their hunt for a group of alien-possessed psychopaths intent on igniting a rampage of mass murder leads the Team of Seven, composed of counterculture humans and benevolent aliens, to a prison in Turkey, war-ravaged Vietnam, a luxurious nuclear fallout shelter, and finally to direct confrontation with their enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astaria Books
• Release date: Aug 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536517255

John Walters

John Walters recently returned to the United States after thirty-five years abroad. He lives in Seattle, Washington. He attended the 1973 Clarion West science fiction writing workshop and is a member of Science Fiction Writers of America. He writes mainstream fiction, science fiction and fantasy, and memoirs of his wanderings around the world.

Book preview

Contents

I  In Which the Team Springs Chuck

II  In Which the Team Plans Its Next Move

III  In Which Will Revisits an Old Haunt

IV  In Which Brenda and Chuck Face the Enemy

V  In Which the Team Launches a Rescue

VI  In Which the Team Regroups

VII  In Which Evil and Good Converge Upon Each Other

VIII  In Which Earthlings Celebrate Their Mortality

IX  End Notes

I

In Which the Team Springs Chuck

Chuck sighed.  Nobody ever said that festering in a Turkish prison was going to be fun, but he never realized that the worst part of it would be the boredom.  Sometimes there was nothing else to do other than count the cockroaches on the walls.  Sure, occasional fights broke out and the odd murder was attempted, but with Chuck's enhanced abilities he easily handled those.  He would have looked forward to them, in fact, if he wasn't trying to keep a low profile.  Because he knew that he was needed on the outside, it was imperative that he not get into further trouble.  Which meant that he had to back out of tussles unless he was defending himself.  This was grossly contrary to his natural predilections.  When he rode with his biker gang they usually did the opposite; they spent most of their time roaming around looking for opportunities to initiate trouble.

Since he had nothing better to do, Chuck allowed himself a few more minutes of poor-me, those-were-the-days reminiscing before getting back down to business:  plotting his escape.  As yet he had come up with nothing that didn't involve multiple casualties amongst the Turkish guards.  He knew that the rest of his team would not approve of such killings - nor, in fact, did he approve of them himself anymore.  Again - contrary to his erstwhile proclivities.  Now, random killings of innocent individuals were what he and the others spent their full time trying to prevent.

I sure have changed, he thought. 

But he wouldn't have it any other way.  He considered Brenda, to whom he couldn't wait to get back.  All of his sexual activity since adolescence had been focused on being an alpha male and getting the hottest, sleekest, sexiest women that he could, as often and with as much variety as possible.  Now here he was attracted to a female - he couldn't even really call her a woman because she wasn't human - with the most bizarre appearance imaginable.  Her skin was a blend of red, orange, yellow, and brown, and her ears and hair looked like leaves.  And yet she was so damned feminine that he wouldn't even care if she didn't convert into human female form if their physiologies were not otherwise incompatible.

No, he had never been so drawn to a woman - a female, he corrected himself again - before.

And she had promised to convert herself to purely human form for his benefit.

He had to get out, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

He scanned the bars, the door, the lock, the cell itself.  He shared it with five other prisoners:  two fellow Americans, two Italians, and a Dutchman.  One of the Americans was absent.  Why hadn't he noticed that before?  The boredom must be making him complacent.

He'd been lying on his cot with his arms behind his head.  He turned to the emaciated man on the cot next to him.  Hey, Ray.

Ray appeared dazed, and his eyes were bloodshot.  He was in for heroin smuggling, yet despite his incarceration, he always seemed to manage to find enough smack for his personal use.  Hey, he said.

Where's Bobby?

Ray looked around the cell as if seeing it for the first time.  I don't know, man.  But I've been observing the guards taking people one at a time somewhere and then bringing them back.  I think they beat them.  Or rape them.

I don't know about that, Ray.  The only trouble I've had so far is with other prisoners.

Maybe you haven't been here long enough.  Haven't you heard the stories?  They take you to a soundproof room, man, and they hold a gun on you and then they can do whatever they want.  I'm warning you.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

All right, I consider myself warned.  Chuck hoped that it wasn't true.  Although he was fully committed to lying low, he had no intention of allowing himself to be subjected to such indignities, and injuring or killing guards would unnecessarily complicate matters.

A scuffle broke out in a nearby cell.  It appeared to be nothing serious - just the usual bullshit.

Two guards approached.  They generally had little tolerance for this sort of thing.  Yet instead of breaking up the ruckus, they stopped in front of Chuck's cell, unlocked the door, and motioned to him.

What did I tell you? said Ray.  Be careful, man.  You're in for it now.

One of the guards shouted something in Turkish.  Chuck was having trouble picking up the language, but he caught the general intent.  He got up and accompanied them out of the cell block and down a musty-smelling corridor to an unmarked door.  One of them rapped sharply on the door, opened it without waiting for an answer, motioned that Chuck should enter, and then closed the door behind him.

The room had a large wooden desk with several straight-backed wooden chairs loosely arranged in front of it. On either side of the desk were sullen-faced uniformed police officers, each bearing pistols in holsters.  They looked so similar it was uncanny:  lean, swarthy, mustached, lazy-eyed, malevolent.

Chuck really didn't want to hurt anyone, but he began to think that there was no alternative.  These men appeared as if they intended violence.  The problem was, with the desk between them and their hands resting lightly on the grips of their pistols, it would be difficult for Chuck to neutralize them both before one of them got him.  Maybe if he leapt at one, went for his pistol, used the body as a shield...

The one on the left motioned for Chuck to take a chair.  Chuck moved forward, preparing to attack.

The officer on the left said in perfect English, He's a saucy one, isn't he?

The other replied, Oh, yes, he'll do nicely.  We can certainly have our way with him.

What the fuck?

Check out that come-hither look.

Oh, yes, he wants it all right.

Chuck's lower jaw dropped.  He had no idea what to think or say.

The two officers burst into laughter.

Oh, man, Chuck, I wish you could see your face.  You are one astonished-looking motherfucker.

I wish we could have strung it out longer, but your reaction was too perfect.  I couldn't keep a straight face anymore.

Chuck managed to stammer, Will?  Jesse?

I wish we had a camera.  Why didn't we take a picture of this?  The girls would have loved it.

You assholes.  You sons of bitches.  I thought this was for real.  I was just figuring out how I could kill you with the least amount of fuss.

We know, said Will.  That's what made it all the funnier.  But really, we had no choice.  It had to appear genuine - otherwise we never could have gotten the guards to bring you to us.

Shit, said Chuck.  Then he grinned.  Thanks for coming.  Nice disguises, by the way.

You can thank your girlfriend Brenda, said Will.  We adapted her research into masks and skin.

Where is she?

She got injured in the battle at the border.  She's recovering in the States.  She'll be fine.

I think perhaps we should discuss recent events later, said Jesse.  We still have to get out of here.

That's right, said Will.

They had brought a spare uniform and mask for Chuck.  After Chuck changed, they helped him apply and