War of the Weavers Part 4

Fifteen minutes later, a black Chrysler minivan with tinted windows, swerves around the corner making screech marks that stained the concrete.  Smoke rose from the spinning tires as it drove up to the street where Stacey’s father impatiently waited. A small group inside the vehicle motioned for him to get in and zoomed off. Inside the trunk compartment, a small team of four, one doctor and a nurse, accompanied by two men strapped Stacey down in a small stretch bed while she wailed and fought against her restraints. The doctor and her father tried to calm her down while he ordered the nurse to administer a shot of Toradol in her upper right arm.

“Give her the max dosage!” he said.

“We can’t keep her still!” the nurse cried as the two guards struggled to hold her down.

Although they pinned her shoulders to the bed, she thrashed about like a mad woman! The medicine did very little to ease her discomfort.

“It’s not working!” the doctor said in a panic, “Sedate her!”

“Doctor, we need to hold her still first! You will never be able to get that shot if you don’t” she replied.

“No excuses! Just, hold her!” the man snapped as a bit the cap off the syringe and tapped the needle.

However, the van hit a bump in the road and jostled everyone inside. The two men pinning her down fell on their backs and the doctor dropped the needle on the floor. The deranged patient snapped the leather straps binding her and sat up on the bed. A crazed, malicious grin swept across her mouth and released a drop of saliva. The burgundy and black wrap dress she wore gave her incredible strength. With her right arm, she lifts the doctor up by his collar and breaks his wrist with her left hand. The first guard rushed in to stop her, but she slammed him against the left side of the car.  When second tried to hold her down from behind, she punched him in the stomach and made him bend over. After that, she rendered him unconscious by shoving  his head into the left side of the van. As she moved towards the sliding door of the van, her father’s tie wrapped around her entire torso and slung her back down on the bed. He picks up the syringe and injects the substance into the right side of her neck. The woman collapses in his arms as the injured doctor moves towards him.

Her father placed his left hand over her sweaty head and whispered, “It’s going to be okay”

Then he turned to the driver and yelled, “Hurry!”

Twenty minutes later, the group in the van opened the tinted double doors of the private facility and pushed the sedated woman down a carpeted hallway. The fluorescent lighting on the ceiling illuminated each time they passed through a lengthy corridor. The father dashes to  steel reinforced doors and held his cuff links of his suit against the monitor. The device scans it before opening the doors. The anxious man stares at his Montblanc and taps his feet against the floor while he waited for the slow, massive doors to open completely. After a few minutes, he rushes into the containment area encased in transparent, bullet-proof glass. Scientists, physicians, physicists and a host of engineers worked in this area. The father walks up to the terminal, presses a few buttons and waited.

Over the intercom, an automated feminine voice speaks, “Please state your name”

“Charles V. Tompson” he answers.

“Voice recognition confirmed” the machine replies, “Welcome Agent 3475”

The glass doors blocking entrance to the facility opens. With a wave, he signals for the team behind him to bring his daughter in. When the team observed their unfamiliar surroundings, they decided that the best course of action was to move as quickly as possible to their destination.  When they entered the open office, the agent saw two guards, along with special personnel, guarding the conference room. Two tall, muscular guards wearing black shades and black suits folded their arms as they stood in front of the double doors.

Afterwards, a man with a single streak of gray hair and glasses ran down the runway to meet him wearing a sharp, navy blue pants suit.

“Agent Charles!” he snapped, “What the hell are you doing bringing a possessed human here?!”

However, Charles ignored the reprimand and with one maneuver, he shoves him out of his way.

He continues on to the conference room where the two men were standing guard.

“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go in there!” they protested as they pushed the man back.

“I need to see her!” Charles demanded as the guards blocking the door shook their heads and denied him access.

The older man took a few steps back and threatened, “If you don’t let me through, I’ll force my way in!”

The two men laughed, crossed their arms and dared him with their eyes. However, a lady over the intercom gave her permission. Afterwards, the guards moved and Charles dashed through the doors. Inside the dimly lit room, a large projector in the center of the room flashed the image of the company logo. Charles moved past the scattered chairs surrounding the large rectangular conference table and headed to the central office.  Stepping across the room divider, he met a woman sitting behind a large counter with her legs crossed. Her chin rested on her right hand and she used the other to hold her smartphone. A nonchalant demeanor plastered the bi-racial woman’s face as she straightened her navy blue, v-necked chiffon dress that had ruffles at the top and bottom.

 

 

 

 

 

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