Path of Ranger: Volume 1 (27 page)

“You were telling…” Doc reminded.

“Oh, right. So, I thought if there was no place for me in my old gang, I had to start the new one. Only, the traditional methods of doing business weren’t acceptable for me anymore. I’d gathered few smart boys to deal with things in a new approach. There were nine of us in the crew’s core. Our activities expanded, it went from small trading commerce to large financial schemes on overseas markets. Then we’ve made a shell gang to cover our real business. It was how we took over Lower Compton.”

“Lower Compton? Never heard about that,” Gibson noted.

“I didn’t hear about magic sand with healing abilities either.”

“Gibsonium isn’t magical! It healed only your life, once. And killed everything else it touched,” Gibson resented. “Let’s stay on topic. So, am I getting it right? You started a legitimate business, but you built a crime business on top of it to appear as a criminal?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” Mark’s big brain seemed to be overloaded. “It doesn’t make any sense! Why not stay within the law?”

“Pff-f-f!” JB laughed. “Doc, you obviously spend too much time in your lab. You should know what is going on out there. These corporations, usually, are much worse than any gangsters. They may steal everything that you have, stab you in the back several times, and you still end up owing them. And all of that is legal.”

“So, you decided to earn ‘clean’ money, trade it for ‘dirty’ money, and then launder it back into ‘clean’? Isn’t that too expensive a process?”

“Is there a too big price for freedom?” JB counter argued. “If you are purely clean, each fucking shark out there wants to bite a piece of you. But, when they consider you the meanest monster in the pool, no one comes even close. No politicians, no suits, no any other sneaky bastards. All you’re left to deal with are dumb criminals and the police.”

“Yet, only an insane person may make money honestly and then show himself as a criminal.”

“Really? So how does the rap industry work?”

However insane it did sound, the scientist started to believe in JB’s words.

“Oh, tell me then. Where did the drugs come from? That batch, which was blown up near Los Angeles?” the doctor wondered.

“We stocked it,” JB shrugged. “Nobody would believe us if we just claimed to be criminals, they would take us for posers. The drugs import was real. We used to buy it, and stock it in the dungeon. Then we staged the deals on the streets for more realism.”

“Oh, right. The ‘dungeon’… That basement of yours, that was as big as the neighborhood. Where did that come from again?” Doc gave out another portion of suspicion.

“I guess it was there… How should I know? I’ve never built it.”

Taking another minute to think, Mark came to the conclusion that it was too much doubtful information in one day to make his mind up at once. The main advantage of JB’s was that he hadn’t lied once. Gibson appreciated that. Yet, he still had his doubts.

“Weird story,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “It’s late, you need to rest. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day. The big weight is waiting for you.

“Hey! You’ve told me nothing about the lab!” JB objected.

“There’s not much to tell,” Doc said on his way out. “The center was built back in the sixties for sophisticated research in multiple fields. I don’t know a lot about that since most of the intel was classified. One of the directions was developing new breeds of narcotics. I came here six years ago as a genetic researcher. There is a former military camp on the other side of the island. Now it’s taken by ‘farmers.’ Two years ago most of my colleagues were gone. Also, the island is populated with deadly monsters. You know about that…” Mark took a second to check that he didn’t forget anything. “Oh, right. The weather… I have no idea what is wrong with it. It went gray just before your crash. Usually it’s sunny here. And soon a heat season is about to start in the jungle, so we better get off the island, because I can’t take another one!” Doc went through his thoughts again, to be sure that he had said everything. “Yep, that’s it. Good night. I’ll wake you up at six a.m. sharp.”

Gibson left. JB sat tight at the table, scoping the surface with his hands, trying to find something edible.

“Well, okay! Nothing wrong with that explanation! It’s all clear now…” the big guy spoke out loud. “Scientists. Farmers. Monsters… And he calls me a lunatic…”

Later, in the night, JB couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard he tried, the consciousness just wouldn’t go. Gibson’s words stuck in his mind. Even though he hadn’t told much of details about the island, he had told the most important thing – the next step. For all that time being on the island, JB never had a clear view of how would he get out of there. Doc mentioned it, so he most likely had a plan. These thoughts fully loaded mutant’s head.

About four hours of useless lying in bed passed. JB thought it was time to have a bite to eat. He had never felt such severe hunger, not once in his life. The path to the kitchen was already imprinted in his memory so he could get there without help or vision.

After getting to the kitchen, the big guy stayed still for a minute, imagining what the place was supposed to look like. He tried to remember where the fridge was. The aim of his desire was a cold milk or juice, or any kind of refreshment. But a huge disappointment waited for him there. The whole fridge was stuffed with the containers full of Gibson’s protein shake. To be sure, JB tried few of them, they all contained the same filth inside. All there left to do was to accept it. He took one of the servings and shut the door.

Meanwhile, something had changed in the room. Just like a predator, he sensed the presence of another animal around. His motion froze, he swallowed the rest of the drink that he had left in his mouth. The mutant went all ears. There wasn’t much going on, just a slight vibration in the air, someone's breathing, maybe. Being lost in those suspicions, he decided to take off the blindfold. The last time he tried to do so, he almost burned out his eyes. But it supposed to be dark in there, at least he was counting on it.

While the left hand of his was holding the bottle, the right one carefully took off the bandage. His eyes were so used to be closed and strained, JB had to make a good effort to lift his eyelids. Indeed, it was dark in the room. A sudden flow of tears smudged the picture. Soon, when his vision adjusted, it became clearer. JB saw a dark silhouette standing in front of the bright light source. He blinked some to make the vision close to normal, then the picture fully revealed to him. It was a young woman that stayed in front of the second fridge, on the other side of the kitchen. She leaned down fearfully, getting ready to run. There was a bitten ham in her one hand and a box of orange juice in another. The girl stayed frozen, her full attention was directed at the brute mutant.

At first, seeing her silhouette, JB took her for Mia. But then, after taking a better look at her face he noticed that she was much older, about twenty-five or so. She looked neglected: black tangled hair, a filthy face, dirty bare feet and a disturbed expression on her face. It seemed like she had come there to have a night lunch, so JB’s presence was an inconvenience to her. Usually, in such situations, JB would say ‘hello,' but he felt odd doing so.

“Okay, I’m leaving…” he said very softly.

On his way out, Bridgers looked back all the time, trying to check out what was in that other fridge. Soon as he got out, he straightened up and marched through the hallway to his bedroom. Drinking that disgusting shake on the go he thought about the doctor.

“Damn sneaky bastard, you Gibson. Hiding good food from me,” JB mumbled.

Next morning the doctor came to the patient’s room to wake him up and call for breakfast. But all he found in the room was a carefully folded bed. Being genuinely surprised by such an early rise of his comrade, considering how tiring the day before was, Mark went looking for JB. He checked all the rooms where they had been together before. No mutant was found.

Just as he took a seat on a bench to think about where his patient might go, Doc heard a knock on the wall from a nearby building. Moreover, it was that exact training center where Gibson planned to continue the work.

He walked inside to see JB training by himself. The mutant was inside the pit, surrounded by a circle of inductors. A swarm of metal balls chaotically flew inside. Each of the balls was about a size of a volleyball. Bridgers was running, jumping, twisting, and bending any way he was able to, just to avoid the hits. His eyes were covered; his forearms and hands had defenders on them. When there was no way to dodge the ball, JB tried to hit it away. Sometimes those orbs knocked him down, then JB got up right away to keep going.

The doctor was pleasantly surprised by such persistence from his ward.

“I see you got how to use this thing!” Mark shouted, trying to over sound the noise of the setting.

“Nothing too hard here!” JB responded straight from inside. “I found there a big red button named ‘start’!”

“You got up early!”

“I couldn’t sleep! Your drink is rare filth! I hate it!” With the last words, JB straightened up and rushed to the edge of the platform to get out. “Turn it off, Doc! I’ll be right back!”

That sudden change in behavior confused Mark.

“Where are…” he started to shout but stopped when he saw that JB entered the restroom. “The big red button,” Gibson kept talking on the way to the control panel. “My idea!”

By the time JB got back, Gibson had already prepared the next unit to work with. It was a disk ramp, about ten feet in diameter, made from a blurry white glass. The mutant’s gait gained more confidence, it seemed that the blindness wasn’t an issue for him anymore.

“I removed a blindfold yesterday,” JB said. “The light ain’t hurting me no more.”

“That’s good to hear. And why did you train with those spheres blindly then?” Mark wondered.

“Because, Luke Skywalker did so. Duh,” JB responded skeptically. “By the way, something changed in my vision. Everything is brighter, more saturated. And I can see in the dark better.”

A self-satisfied smile rose on the doctor’s face when he was going through his notes.

“It’s because I’ve implanted an artificial cornea and retina in your eyes,” he said and looked at the mutant. “Let me explain. The result was aimed at increasing the light receiving capacity of your eyes. It lowers the light threshold needed for vision.”

“Wait a sec. So you’re saying that my eyes were fine, there wasn’t a need for surgery? Did you just play Dr. Frankenstein with me?” JB protested.

“First of all, considering the situation, it’s going to be your greatest advantage in fighting those jungle monsters. And, secondly, I’ve been working on that research whole year, and all I had as test subjects were hamsters and frogs. A hamster can’t tell me if it sees better! How else could I find out if that technology was working?!” Doc argued fiercely. “Besides, if an experiment had failed, you would live anyway, and I would have told you that the monster damaged your eyes. It was win-win.”

“For you, Gibson! You damn bastard!” JB called him by name for the first time, as it was a sign of respect. “I like it!”

The break was over. Doc put particular bands on the mutant’s limbs, and then gave him a vest of similar structure.

“This is a gravity enhancement panel, get on it. When I turn it on, you follow the instructions on the screen.” Mark turned on a small TV in front of JB that had a human dummy model in it. The model showed motion examples. “If some of the bands loosen up, tell me. They must sit tight.”

“I can’t see anything,” JB complained.

“Take off the blindfold.”

“Right!”

Revealing his eyes, JB saw a bright light. It was coming from everywhere, blinding him. It didn’t bring pain anymore but still felt uncomfortable.

Besides everything new around him, JB saw Mark for the first time that moment. He appeared to be a white man of average height, a bit shorter, maybe. His face seemed kind and pleasant: a long forehead, wide cheekbones and chin, blue eyes and dark blond hair. Just like JB had imagined, the doctor wore a white robe and thin, frameless glasses. The mutant himself had eyes which had changed quite a bit. They had deep blue coloration, which still remained a surprise for him to explore.

“What does this unit do?” JB wondered.

“It increases the resistance.”

“Resistance to what?”

“To your movements.”

With the last words, Gibson turned the knob on the control panel. A soft hum sounded, and the mutant was instantly snapped to the floor.

“Hm… I guess, it’s not tuned right,” the scientist said thoughtfully. Taking his time he started slowly turning the knob backward until JB was able to get up. “That’s better.”

As soon as the level of artificial gravity became stable JB began an exercise shown on the screen. A tension felt in the muscles. Each bend of the limbs and body was accompanied with resistance against it. It appeared to be much more difficult than Bridgers had imagined.

“Hey, Doc. Why wasn’t a regular barbell good enough?” JB asked while lifting and lowering his arms.

“Our mission is to make a monster killing machine out of you. So we need to train your body properly, the functional muscles, not just visual ones. If you encounter one of those creatures again, and all you can do is a bench press, what are you going to do with it? Give it twenty?”