1995
ICE Institution
Whistling often helped Alistair to shake the cold. There was something about a low tune in the darkness that brought even a little light to the horrible place he called a home. He whistled to give his mind something else to think about, to distract his heart from the guilt that often clawed its way into his soul.
Alistair Barnes left his quarters at 0600 hours, as he did every morning. He was already dressed in his white uniform, the cuffs of his pants grazed with dirt from the dirty cell floors. He never understood why the uniforms were white when everywhere else was like a filthy prison. A cave.
Before he went out into the silent corridor, he shot a quick glance at the splintered crucifix above his bed. A thought crossed his mind momentarily when he remembered the scripture he had read last night. In Him we have redemption. Alistair shook his head and closed the door. There would be no redemption for him.
Light from the swinging globes above guided his way, but they were not the same as real sunlight. He hadn’t felt the warmth of its rays in years, and it was starting to drain from his body like every other pleasant feeling.
Alistair nodded a quick greeting to one of the other guards as he exited his quarters. The guard didn’t speak to him. No one did.
That’s because Alistair was different.
When he took the position as a guard, he was at a point in his life where he did not care what came next. Any job, any home would do. He had no family left – his wife and son were taken from him, his addiction spiked and he became a mess. He was on the verge of jumping from the next cliff he passed just to claim release. Then one day he found himself talking to a man in a café about a job for a company that researched human genetics, and he accepted. Just like that. He didn’t think about the repercussions, nor did he realize when he signed the contract how difficult it was to resign his position.
Now Alistair knew the secrets of ICE. And every day, his conscience whispered to him about his part in the horrors that were conducted there.
Alistair made his way through the cell block, ignoring the moans of the people inside. ‘People’ was rather an inappropriate word for them – after the doctor was through, they hardly resembled people at all.
Every day Alistair asked himself why he still remained in ICE. True, there was no one he would miss. Perhaps Dr. Rosenthal was the only decent man in the entire underground facility. The unspeakable things he’d witnessed were enough to drive him to run for the exit and remain in therapy for the rest of his pathetic life.
But though his principles were just, Alistair was not allowed to leave. Dr. Winston Wolfe made sure of that. In fact, he threatened to end his existence if he ever considered leaving. Alistair believed him – the man had power not even the President possessed.
So Alistair remained and worked every day, staying under the radar, feeding the prisoners, escorting them to the labs, watching the world around him grow and expand in technology.
Until one day, a boy arrived. Then things changed.
2005
“Chevie Pulicover.” The doctor flipped through the file of check-in information, shaking his head and staring at the subject that sat on the bed inside the room. Alistair was silent, shocked beyond comprehension. It was just a normal morning. All he had to do was escort a new subject to their cell, then continue with his daily duties of being summoned and patrolling.
But this boy changed everything.
“Hey Barnes?” The scientist – Rodney, he was called – elbowed him in the side and sent shooting pains through his left hip. He was getting old. “What’s got into you?”
“N-nothing. What’s his power?”
“Uh.” Rodney flipped the first page back. “They’re unsure at the present stage. Somebody thought they saw him jump off a building and reported it, the Agents suspect it has something to do with intelligence. Doesn’t sound very intelligent if he leapt from a skyrise, eh?”
“Yeah,” Alistair mumbled. Beads of sweat began to drip from his forehead. He snapped awake when another young guard entered the room. He was an army buff, fresh out of inventory. He and Alistair moved into the small room where the consultations usually took place. The boy looked up into their faces, unsure but unafraid, a chunky bracelet clamped around his wrist.
Something flashed in his eyes when they met his. It was enough to bring Alistair to his knees. His eyes were exactly like his mother’s.
Chevie frowned, but said nothing.
“Let’s go kid,” said Alistair. “Time for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” His voice was deep. Chevie guessed he was probably eighteen.
“We’re not asking,” said the other guard and he roughly hauled Chevie to his feet. The boy didn’t react with screams or tears or curses like most of the other kids. He still couldn’t take his eyes off Alistair.
“I know you,” he said to him. “Why do I know you? Where am I?”
Alistair caught the guard’s confused glance and then shook his head at the boy. “Sorry kid, you don’t know me. I think you’re just delirious. As for your other question… you’re in hell, and there aint no way out.”
The guard’s smile curved to the side. Alistair’s insides shivered at his cruelty. But the boy merely stared at his father with the same narrowed brow and a sparkle in his eye, as if he knew something Alistair did not.
“You’re lying,” he said. Then he let the guard lead him away.
2008
Alistair wasn’t lying. This was hell. A hell he could not escape from.
But he could help his son escape.
Since Alistair first arrived seventeen years ago, the inside of the Institution had changed. He no longer slept in the guard’s quarters – the rooms that felt like caves. They’d built new cells above, ones with murky white walls that made it feel more like a hospital than a cave. But the doctor’s methods had not changed. In fact, from what Alistair knew of Dr. Wolfe’s projects, he was diving deeper into torturous methods and unfathomable science than ever before.
Alistair knew he had to get his son out of the Institution. He didn’t want to see poor Chevie down in the morgue like all the other kids who reached their early twenties and withered into nothing. Chevie was twenty-one now.
It was time to take action.
Alistair knocked on his son’s door at exactly 2:58am one night. Since the Iceman and his baby daughter escaped a long time ago, security tightened and guards regularly patrolled the cell block corridors. But Alistair knew the schedule – they had time before the change of guard.
“Now?” Chevie whispered as the glass door slid open.
“Yes. You’re more valuable than ever, Son. Let’s go.”
They crept along the corridor, the other children asleep in their beds. He knew some of them by name, but thankfully none of them woke up.
“They found something new, didn’t they?” Chevie hissed. “Shit, I knew they’d figure me out sooner or–”
“Shh!” Alistair threw his arm out and they fell back against the wall. A guard was coming down the stairs from above. He motioned and they moved quickly down, trying hard not to make noises on the linoleum floors.
Chevie was almost always one step ahead when it came to knowing the secrets of the institution. Dr. Wolfe still couldn’t understand Chevie’s ability – neither could Alistair, for that matter – and he feared that the day the doctor discovered his true potential would be the end of the world. Chevie was smart enough to keep his power secret, always leading the doctor down a different path, making him chase his tail. Alistair was proud of that.
The downstairs corridor was empty. Alistair was just starting to relax when all of a sudden, the door to the breakfast hall opened and two guards – Steel the army buff and his new psychotic friend Jamison – strolled out.
“Barnes?” Steel frowned. “Where are you off too so late at night?”
For a moment, Alistair was dumbstruck. He’d never been good at keeping secrets or improvising. But perhaps the Lord was on his side that night, for words just seemed to topple out of his mouth.
“I’m bringing down a patient for Dr. Wolfe. He requested me specifically. It’s about Project 09 and the tanks. Top-secret.” The lie came out perfectly.
The guards looked momentarily perplexed, wondering why they’d never heard of this top-secret project, but didn’t object and soon continued with their conversation.
Both Alistair and Chevie breathed a little better in the elevator.
“Project 09?” chuckled Chevie.
“Hey, it worked.”
“Dad… what did they find? What do they know about me?”
Alistair tried to remember, tried to find some truth without giving everything away. He didn’t want to overwhelm his son or give him reason to panic.
“They… they ran some new brain scans. Son, they believe you might have another power.”
Chevie’s eyes glistened. “I knew it. I always knew it.”
“Enhanced Intelligence, they’re calling it. But I’m warning you, be very careful in the outside world. If I succeed in freeing you, do not use your powers to become world-famous, you must be careful how much information you sustain. It could be dangerous. I trust that you’re smart enough to figure out how to use your powers for greater purposes Chevie.”
“I know Dad,” he smiled. “I will.”
The door opened. The lab was quiet. They hurried through the corridor, keeping low in case a scientist was hidden inside and could see them through the window. Alistair knew the quickest way was through the staff exit to the bunker, but the safest way was through the sewers.
So they went down. Down into the Death Caves Alistair used to live above to where the mutants were kept. He didn’t tell his son about them because he wanted him to forget this place and have a real life. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t rest until ICE was destroyed.
Alistair led him to the ladder and helped him open the hatch. It was then that a light flashed over them and two guards shouted, “Hey! Stop!” and suddenly, they were being rained upon by taser shots.
“Go! I’ll hold them off!” He shoved his son up the ladder.
Chevie’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down, his hand reaching out. “Dad, no! Come with me!”
“It’s okay,” Alistair smiled. He’d done a good thing, something that might make up for all the years of disappointment. Maybe now, God would forgive him. As he waved the little back key over Chevie’s wrist so the bracelet deactivated, he said, “Listen to me Son: don’t ever forget who you are. You may be different from others, but that’s because you were chosen. What you do now, and for the rest of your life, either honors that choice or destroys it. Make me proud, son.”
Tears swam in Chevie’s eyes. “You got it, Dad.”
The hatch closed, Chevie was gone, and Alistair turned to face his fate. He was not afraid. He wore a smile like a shield against their judgment, but who were they to judge? Would they do anything for their sons? Or were they just heartless, selfish men?
Whatever they would do to him would not matter, because tonight, his son walked free. Alistair hoped that he chose to make a difference, and to someday save the world.