Blackwater: Riptide (Jack - Episode III)

Sari enters Blackwater to find Jack

Welcome back to the Jack and Sari’s journey in the Blackwater Files. You can see episodes I and II, as well as other colorful characters through the link below.

The office was neat, all her mugs removed, trash taken out. The space needed to be clear. All of it was a reflection of her mind. That was what her mother used to say.

Sari’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Riptide

Riptide

Riptide

Pausing, she used her thumb to trace the callus on her index finger. When the mood hit her, she still played. Now, however, Sari needed a complete absence of sound; no Metallica, none of the AI-recycled pop voices regurgitated for the last three decades (not that Sari would tolerate it), and no stringed symphonies. Sari allowed herself to sit in silence and her mind to wander back to the root of Riptide’s familiarity.

It hit her thirty minutes later.

Of course, she would not find her answer through the Mononet nor the bureau’s databases. The source of Sari’s memory was still under strict investigation.

Sari grabbed her tweed blazer and leapt to her feet, donning it as she crossed the building. Outside, the hustle and bustle of the city droned on; skyrails crisscrossed over each other, and Amazon drones completed their deliveries. It was a strange sort of grey outside, an in-betweenness like dawn or dusk. The rain thudded dully on the window, washing the pollution from the city. Tomorrow skies would be clear. This would last until the winds carried Southerly micro-dust.

The heels of Sari’s shoes clicked against the floor as she half-jogged, half-walked through the halls. She found Agent Danielle Mejia in the projection room, pinning interactive holographs along red lines.

In part to irritate her colleague, Sari flicked the lights on and off rapidly.

Mejia winced. “Ugh! Who is that? Stop that, you child!”

When Sari halted her actions and Mejia adjusted to the light, her eyes rolled. “Oh.”

“Your notes mentioned Riptide,” prompted Sari.

Mejia made a face as though sucking a lemon. “Rude. Hello, how are you Agent Mejia? I’m fine and how are you?”

“Why would I ask how you are when I don’t care? Do you care how I am?”

“Touché.”

Sari entered and leaned against a nearby desk. “I need you to tell me about Riptide.”

“No and how the hell do you even know about it?”

“This is life or death, Danny.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

Hesitating, Mejia studied Sari’s expression. “You’ll owe me, Sari.”

“Deal,” Sari quickly responded. There was total confidence in her answer. Jack will also owe me big time for this crap, she thought.

Mejia’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. So it is life or death.” Sighing, Mejia gestured to the board. “Come take a look.”

Arms crossed, Sari approached.

“It was Robbie that really linked the case to yours,” said Mejia. “That’s why I was trying to talk to you two weeks ago. The bridge-jumper, Joanna Sykes, her note was ruined by sea water but we made out ‘Riptide’ and ‘ELYS’. At first, I assumed it was a lover’s name: Elys or Elysia. The family was almost a dead end; wealthy and embarrassed that their daughter was involved in drugs. But Joanna’s twin brother let on that she was interested in trying some sort of cutting edge program. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that.”

Mejia continued. “Carmen A. Ryan, whose body was never recovered, was linked to Elysium. Her parents refused to report anything. We called the parents in for an interview, but they never showed. When I went to their apartment, they’d moved.”

“Do you know where?”

“No clue, but to leave the city they must’ve received a pretty penny.”

“How’d you find out she was missing?”

“The girl’s former pediatrician got the authorities involved. We followed up on Elysium but it was another dead-end. Their team sent us over the full list of medical records but she’s not on them. It’s frustrating because there are two clearly intersecting lines but we can’t find the stupid link.”

Sari cocked her head. “Any theories on what Riptide is? Another name for Blackwater? Nickname for an abusive Elysium staff member?”

“We don’t know.”

“Then that’s for me to find out.”

“Huh? Wait, aren’t you going to share your info?”

Sari began to walk away, calling over her shoulder. “Classified.”

From Agent Mejia, Sari marched straight into Byron’s office. She entered without knocking. The window was open, a drone having just delivered his dinner.

Byron was setting up Chinese takeaway boxes on his desk. He looked at Sari with a mixture of apprehension and annoyance. “It’s Nancy Drew just in time for dinner,” he mumbled.

“Hello.”

“What now?”

Sari crossed the room, shooed the drone, and shut the window’s port. “I was right,” she said.

“How very female. About?”

Ignoring his snide remark, Sari moved to stand before his desk and continued. “Jack is in trouble.”

“How do you know?”

“Riptide.”

He opened the box of lo mein and made a face at her. “You say that like it’s supposed to mean something.”

“Jack mentioned riptide the last time he was in contact.”

“You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Do you remember Agent Mejia poking around our case? Well, they’re connected. Riptide is linked to dozens of missing persons cases and those who have been found are found dead.”

Byron sat and dug a fork into the noodles. “Alright, I follow. And you think Jack—our Jack—will end up at the bottom of the Potomac?”

“You’re not taking me seriously,” accused Sari.

“Oh, no I am. I’m taking you extremely seriously. I’m seriously worried about where you’re going with this.”

“Do you think there’s a way to enter his subconscious?”

Byron almost choked. “What?” he asked, mouth full.

She gestured to Byron’s computer. “Jack can project text messages from inside his subconscious, right?”

“Right.”

“He can also receive text messages.”

After swallowing a painfully large amount, of food Byron shook his head. “Sari, that’s really different than projecting your own mind into someone else’s dream state. That’s dangerous.”

“I know, I know. I read the bureau’s guidelines, but this is an emergency.”

“We don’t know that.”

“But you feel it. You said it yourself, Jack is good and he is. He never misses a check-in, but he’s missed two so far. That’s weird.”

Byron paused, expression grim. “Fine,” he acknowledged. “Let’s say it is an emergency. How would we even get you there?”

“Put me to sleep in the testing chair.”

“That is a prototype. It’s nothing compared to Elysium’s material. And even if you could make it work, the bureau would forbid it.”

“Then, clear me for Blackwater.”

Byron baulked. “No way.”

“Byron.”

“I need you to slow down. You’re scaring me, Sari. Let’s analyze this. Is your passion for this project about control or do you really want to help Jack?”

Sari blinked. “What?”

“Remember what happened in Seoul?”

Sari looked as if she’d been slapped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying,” said Byron, holding up his hands. “It’s why you were transferred to me. You get excited and you don’t analyze the whole picture. You miss details.”

“I do not make mistakes.”

Expression uncharacteristically sober, Byron placed aside his carton. “You did three years ago and it got your partner killed. Now, I’m sorry for speaking to you like this, but you need a reality check. This is exactly why you’re not lead and exactly why you failed the psych eval.”

“Screw you, Byron,” she spat.

“Hey!” he barked. He raised a finger. “I’m still your superior. I don’t really give a fuck what Bond-type shit you got up to back in the war, but now you’re here and you work for me.”

Sari opened her mouth to respond and then thought better of it.

Continuing, Byron said, “Jack knew what he signed up for when he took the lead on this case. He knew there was a chance he might not come home. We cannot afford to lose you both, the bureau cannot afford it.”

Sari’s dark eyes narrowed. Ah-ah, be professional! Silence was her friend right now. With monumental effort, Sari relaxed her body and allowed her arms to uncross. They can’t fire me, she thought, be nice, do what you want anyway, and when Jack is back, he can pay it forward by showing up to my inevitable hearing.

“I apologize for my tone,” Sari lied. “I don’t particularly appreciate your impression of my character.”

“It’s all in the system, Sari. It’s not what I think.” He shot her a meaningful look and then flicked his eyes toward the computer.

Huh?

Stepping forward, Sari kept her expression placid. On a sticky note, Byron scribbled.

CAN’T GIVE VERBAL CONFIRMATION.

Right. Well, that made sense. Sari read on.

ALTERNATIVE I.D. CHIP IN CASE U WERE LEAD STILL IN VAN. ALREADY PRINTED. TAKE N GO OVER WEEKEND.

It was difficult to keep from smiling.

My, my, my, Agent Byron Westgate, thought Sari, you talented little liar.

Sari kept up the charade. “Before I leave. You know why your inappropriate comments on my gender don’t bother me?”

His eyes widened. “What? W-Why?”

“Because I am very comfortable in my femininity and I don’t need to prove to anyone that I’m good at my job because I am damn good at my job!”

With that, she slammed the door shut.

Two days later, Sari smoothed her hands down her medical uniform. Hair pulled back, glasses on; she looked forgettable. Her name was Enid Gearson, she was a freshly graduated med student here to learn from her idol: Dr. Robert J. Karasevdas.

Faux identity, badge, and system hacking were done slipshod, but there was little choice in the matter. Doing everything on one’s own was not impossible, but… difficult.

Sari was welcomed with a “HI! I’M NEW!” smiley face sticker. That was pocketed for when it was better needed. Other than that, there was little fanfare. The overworked HR managers and staff overlooked Sari in their hurry to… Well, wherever it was they were needed. All the better for Sari.

Doing her best to look purposeful, she explored in relative peace.

Whole sections were taped off. “Flooding”, they said.

Sari attempted to peek between cracks in the doors and as people went about their duties. Unfortunately, nothing major revealed itself.

Despite herself, Sari followed her nose and several signs to the atrium and cafeteria. She’d been nervous this morning. Now her body’s regular cues returned. Carefully, Sari navigated slippery tile. Wet floor signs were everywhere and several janitors were frantically mopping up the floor.

“Can’t catch a break,” grumbled one as she passed.

As Sari neared the cafeteria, she heard the sounds of people talking. They weren’t loud. Dozens spoke in hushed tones, gathered closely together. Sari rounded the corner and found the crowd. Toward the front, volunteers and nursing staff watched with obvious horror.

Sari did her best to blend into a group of doctors in a corner. “What’s going on?” she asked the man beside her.

“Patient 09—Koen drowned in the pool,” whispered the nurse. He clicked his teeth. “We’ve been telling you guys for weeks that he wasn’t doing well. He should never have been allowed to participate.”

Sari observed as they pulled a thin man’s pale body from the water. His face, swollen, was a horrible blue. That must be Koen, then.

Men in white PPE suits waved the crowd away.

Nothing to see here.

Sari allowed herself to flow with the rest of the med staff. She imitated the dull and tired look; the over-caffeinated tread. Into the secretive backrooms and past ‘STAFF ONLY’ signs she went. Sari crested the wave of staff before pulling away to wriggle into the break room.

With quick hands, Sari pulled out a cardboard coffee carrier and began to fill cups of coffee. Finding Dr. Karasevdas was not the most pressing issue. Still, it would be a waste of an opportunity not to gather some information where Jack could not.

Sari paused her movements. Was this really about Jack? Or was this about control?

Shaking herself, Sari poured another cup of coffee. I am doing the right thing for the right reasons, she assured herself. She breathed in deeply, noting the coffee’s full and rich scent. Good quality.

Just then, two technicians entered. They were deep in hushed conversation and hadn’t noticed her behind the plant. “That’s because the good doctor doesn’t know what the hell is going on,” whispered the first technician. “He just wants results.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sari saw an abandoned pen on the edge of the counter. She grabbed it and placed it surreptitiously into her pocket.

Just in case.

“Did you see his face when subject 10001’s fissure opened up?” asked the second tech.

“I’ve never seen him shocked. It actually scared me.”

“Half of the building is flooded, the pipes aren’t working, a chunk of the staff has gone missing and the others are starting to act… weird.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“Did you see Deb last night? She was wearing a porcelain mask and staring at patients through the windows. Fuckin’ creepy, man. Security caught her wandering the halls near the pool room. I only know because they asked me to delete the footage.”

“Deb’s always been odd, but yeah even for her…”

“Point is, I think we should get the hell out of here before we get disappeared too. Or worse, the authorities start poking their noses…”

Ah, she’d been spotted.

Her fist flexed around the cylindrical surface of the pen before releasing. Sari caught the technician’s eye and pretended to take soundbuds out of her ears. “Sorry, were you talking to me?”

They relaxed slightly. “Oh. No, we were just gossiping,” said one. He forced an anxious smile.

Sari grabbed the coffee and brushed passed them. “Have a nice day!”

They watched her go in silence. Hopefully, their only worry was being fired. She could’ve kicked herself. I’m making this more complicated than it has to be. All I have to do is find Jack, not wander Elysium’s halls.

Another voice countered: Is it wandering when the building is so well organized? You’d be a fool not to take advantage.

Around another corner, Sari found the light at the end of the tunnel. It appeared to be a special room, its door bracketed by white lights, illuminated the end of a particularly long hall.

OBSERVATION - SPECIAL ACCESS

That’s where she wanted to be. Using the coffee tray in her hand and a pretty smile, Sari convinced a doctor to hold open the door and she slipped inside.

The room was dark and cold. Two tiers represented the station’s hierarchy. On the floor, several young doctors with “MD” printed on their lapels, scrutinized massive screens. Above was a couch where a suited woman perched. In the dark, Sari could not make out her face but the suit she wore was tailored tightly to her body. Standing on the steps was the Dr. Karasevdas. His glasses shone in the light, hiding his eyes. Even so, Sari recognized him from the magazines.

Silent, Sari placed the tray on the table before them and then slipped quietly into a corner to wait. No one noticed her, no one said anything. They were more focused on the subject before them.

Someone at the sitting before a screen spoke. “Dr. Karasevdas?”

“Yes?” His voice was quiet and smooth. He stood in the shadows, half illuminated by the blue lights of the computers.

“It’s b-been over 200 hours,” stammered the young man.

“And?”

“The patient’s heart is stressed.”

One of the other members of the staff snorted. “Sorry, doctor. He’s new.”

“Do you know what happens if I pull someone from Blackwater?” Dr. Karasevdas asked.

“They get sick,” answered the young man.

“And they bring the sickness with them.”

It was quiet for a moment. “We have hundreds of private clientele that keep this project running, my boy,” continued Karasevdas. “They’re on Blackwater. There are some… kinks, but it works. All that must be done is keep the fissures closed and ensure our volunteers resurface without residue.”

Residue? wondered Sari.

“Why don’t we just keep them in the lobby where it’s safe?” asked the young man.

Another doctor answered. “Because the subjects don’t start providing Blackwater until they have gone sub-level three, full Deep C.”

“But there’s something there, something hurting them—”

Another colleague interrupted. “We can’t record subconscious dreams beyond the lobby. Sometimes we’re lucky and can see the first or second level, but the technology is still under development. In other words, there is no evidence that there is a present danger in Blackwater.”

The young doctor looked into the faces of everyone in the room. His breathing visibly hastened.

“Go back to the floor,” ordered Karasevdas. “Perhaps see if you can make yourself useful.”

The young man, eyes glued to the floor, exited.

Once the door closed, Dr. Karasevdas lit a cigarette. “Fire him while he’s on break,” he said, “and get Dr. DiMassi on a call. We need to talk about recruitment.”

Sari watched a whisp of smoke curl into the air. Cigarettes were illegal in most states now. Their rarity helped her quit.

She remembered the taste.

Three years ago, in Seoul, she’d lit them behind cupped hand. David Choi sat in the passenger seat with a hat pulled low over his eyes. He watched the club’s front, its music pulsing as the door swung open with the ebb and flow of patrons.

If she stepped outside, she’d smell spilled beer and piss. Sari observed the local women pull down the hem of their short dresses; the fat foreign girls as they drunkenly attempted aegyo; the groups of men laughing too loud, piercings and tattoos, failed attempts to look like they were from East LA. Somewhere, the roar of a customized engine filled the air.

She smirked; Seoul’s nightlife in all its neon glory.

The Sino-American War was winding down, but espionage activities were in full swing. South Korea—a place where East meets West, the lynch pin of the United States, neighbor of China, and an industrial giant—was no neutral ground.

Seoul was where she’d found the son of the Vice-Chairman, General Zhao; the key to nuclear deterrence—so she thought. So, Sari was here, armed with a fake Venezuelan passport and a plan that she was less and less interested in following with each passing moment.

“Naughty boy,” she muttered around the cigarette. “Snuck away from daddy’s security.”

“And he’ll get home safe and sound to them in the morning,” said David. He shot her a warning look. “You do not grab, you tag. Do you understand?”

If she went back, would she see the world the same way she did? With jaded eyes and indifference?

Maybe that’s why Jack got lead. He wasn’t ever mean. Kind of boring, really. No, not boring. She gritted her teeth as a wave of white-hot jealousy bubbled up within her. Thoughts took hold, almost as though they were not hers at all. Normal, healthy, better-than-you, wonder bread, picture-perfect poster boy.

Stop it.

Where did that come from? Looking down at her hands, she could see she was shaking. Sari placed them into her pockets.

Focus, she told herself, don’t let Byron be right.

Quietly, she removed herself from the room and followed the young doctor. He guided her toward the immersion chamber with its rows and rows of sleeping subjects. Then he went into the bathroom.

Likely to sob his little heart out, thought Sari. Poor guy.

Aware she was on camera, Sari crossed her arms and tapped a pen as though in deep thought. Her eyes—if anyone paid attention—gave away the truth. They darted between names and numbers, desperately hunting for her colleague.

Something else caught her eye.

She stepped closer. The timer clocked over 90 hours.

At that moment, alarms set off.

Sari hung back, watching nurses rush into the patient’s room. He coughed up some sort of black fluid. She squinted. It looked too thin, too dark to be arterial blood. She thought of the color of the pool and Koen’s body.

One nurse peered down through a grate. “Shit, his tank is flooding.”

“A new fissure is about to open. The tank can’t hold anymore water.”

Sari stood on her toes, trying to catch a glimpse. It was no use, she was too far.

“Pull the plug!” someone shouted. “Use the anchor!”

“I think he’s too far gone to pull back up.”

“He cannot die on the table, the fissure will remain open if he does. Pull him up, Fiennes!”

“He’ll die the moment we do!”

“Do as I say or get the fuck out of the way!”

A long beep filled the air.

Flatline.

“Patient deceased at 0320 hours. Cause of death?”

“Stress.”

Nausea turned Sari’s stomach. It wasn’t Jack, she told herself. He was stronger than that. He was probably alive and well somewhere.

As if on cue, Sari’s eyes fell upon a familiar name card:

FRANK E. BEENZ

Not as funny as it had been a few weeks ago.

Sari hastily entered the room. Looking down at Jack, she felt a mixture of fear and guilt. She liked Jack. Enough to pray that she could at least get his body out of here so his family had someone to bury.

Was there a wife waiting for him? A kid?

Strangely, she hoped not. Maybe Sari liked him a little more than she cared to admit. That was a problem for another day.

Pouring over the clipboard at the foot of his bed, Sari felt her concern grow.

+200 HOURS LOGGED

DAY 3 ANCHOR PULLED - FAILURE

DAY 4 ANCHOR PULLED - FAILURE

DAY 5 ANCHOR PULLED - FAILURE

*ALL STAFF MUST WEAR HEADPHONES AND PROPER PPE WHEN ENTERING THIS ROOM * CONTAMINATION IMMINENT * FLOOD SOURCE C5*

“Flood source C5,” Sari read aloud. She thought of the flooded pool and the dead man fished from its depths.

Jack’s vitals were strong and healthy, his brain waves and heart continued as though awake. Judging by the note, Sari presumed the only way to get Jack out was by helping him from the inside. But how?

She followed the tube from the base of his neck to a space in the floor where it disappeared between a metal grate. Sari caught sight of her reflection.

She found her way down easily. A small maintenance hatch allowed her into the strange space. Up close, the air was somehow cool, fresh, and salty. It reminded Sari of the ocean.

She neared her reflection. It was not glass at all, but some sort of fluid. It was so still, it looked like a mirror. Contemplating whether it was a good idea to touch, Sari held her hand over the surface.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Behind her, a door closed gently. Dr. Karasevdas entered. Sari mentally cursed. She’d stupidly neglected that entrance.

Byron’s voice came to her. “You get excited… and you miss details!”

Externally, she did her best to appear charming. Sari tilted her head to expose her neck. “Oh, Dr. Karasevdas. It’s you.”

He didn’t answer.

She shifted uncomfortably under his hawkish gaze. There was something too perfect about his face. His skin was perfect, waxy even.

“I was just trying to better understand the link between the patients and the…” Sari trailed off. What did they call it? “Fissure.”

Suddenly, he flashed brilliant white teeth. “You’re a curious soul.”

“I try to be.”

“It’s not the focus of our study here. I’ll be very honest with you, doctor, we don’t understand these fissures.”

Sari peered down at her own perfect reflection.

It blinked.

Did she blink?

“Is this all from J—patient 10001?” asked Sari.

“It is. We’ve never had a patient remain under so long and survive. It provides an opportunity for us to seek out a greater quality of materials.”

“It doesn’t look like a fissure,” she whispered.

“It’s deeper than it looks.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Sari took a single step back from the pool’s edge, raising her eyes to the doctor as she did. Before she could fully turn, Sari felt his hand suddenly grab a fistful of her hair.

He wrenched her close, twisting her so they were nose to nose. “Why don’t you see how deep it goes, Miss Allende?”