Thane, p.1
Thane, page 1
Aaron Randolph
Thane
Copyright © 2023 by Aaron Randolph
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
Cover art by Mat Van Rhoon
Editing by Felicity Anderson
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
This book is dedicated to Tatum, closest to a daughter I ever had,
and to Hor-Hay, the best friend anyone ever had
Contents
Acknowledgement
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Interlogue
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Interlogue
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
About the Author
Links
Acknowledgement
This book and I owe a lot to a lot of people, such as Mat Van Rhoon, the legend who gave me such incredible feedback and was also inspired to create the brilliant cover art completely unprompted. Meryn Holtslander helped me with some medical questions and served as obvious inspiration for one of the character’s names. My other beta readers Erin Scabareti, Madi Sarlo, Todd Fuller, and Aaron Connors all provided invaluable contributions. The Ultra Hope Girls Discord server and my BFYTW podcast brothers Stevie and Augie were constantly cheering me on while I wrote it. And of course, my parents Linda and Charley for always supporting whatever insane thing I decided to do this time.
But I insist this book would not exist at all without Caroline Orejuela. When I was absolutely lost, she took time out of her incredibly busy voice acting work to read my first eight chapters, and she gave me exactly the encouragement and inspiration I needed to finish the book. Her insights since have raised this story to another level, and I am profoundly grateful. Everyone should be so lucky to have a friend like Caroline.
Prologue
Samantha stared up into the night sky as she’d done so often in her youth. It wasn’t every night you could see every individual star so clearly.
Of course, the morbid side of me wonders just which of those bright lights will kill us.
Samantha shook her head and glanced instead at her phone. Her phone used to be her mortal enemy, an endless annoyance as department heads e-mailed constant reports, budgetary requests, scheduled meetings, all just part of the job - but now she’d give almost anything for such blessed mundanity. Instead, she now clung to her phone, reacting to every vibration instantly in search of hope, feeding off it like an infant at a mother’s breast.
Reluctantly, Samantha opened her e-mails, and her thumb hovered over the latest arrival. It was grayed out, but as of the last 24 hours, she found herself re-reading everything she received at least three or four times.
Almost against her will, Samantha’s thumb pressed against the screen.
National Aeronautics and Space Administration
Office of the Administrator
NASA Headquarters
300 E Street S.W.
Washington, DC
Deputy Administrator Samantha Mulroney:
With Japan, we now have confirmation from three independent sources with more on the way. It’s not a fluke, or a glitch. I’ve got everyone from Kennedy to White Sands asking for orders and all I can think to tell them is to keep gathering information for now.
Has the President been briefed? Did Jim get anything from the pols?
Laura Drozd
ldrozd@nasa.gov
Chief of Staff
NASA Headquarters
Samantha angrily dashed a tear from her eye. She’d sent back a terse “you’ll know when I know”, mostly because she didn’t know how else to respond. Independent confirmation from that many sources was not a good sign. Still, Laura had deserved better, and Samantha resolved to check in with her later and apologize.
As if it matters. As if anything does.
Samantha’s thoughts turned to Jim. James Arnold was the Administrator at NASA, having been selected by the current president to serve and confirmed by the Senate. He’d hand-picked her to be his Deputy, even though she thought she wasn’t the most qualified choice. Jim’s belief in her had been unwavering, and they were sworn in on the same day.
Those feelings were returned and then some. Samantha had been on his staff since James was a state senator for New York, to the point where she ran his last U.S. Senate campaign. Samantha smiled in spite of herself.
As if her memories had summoned him, her phone began to play Alice in Chains’ “Man in the Box”, and Samantha instantly pulled up the text message that had just arrived.
Samantha started to type a reply, but then “Man in the Box” played again.
Samantha froze for a second, then typed as fast as her fingers would let her.
Samantha sat back down hard, completely unaware she’d begun to stand up during the exchange. Thane was an anachronism, a joke that had been floating around NASA longer than Samantha had been alive. Layne Staley sang again.
She stared at her phone, unable to piece even two words together in her mind. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she instead turned away from the phone and looked up. Samantha stared up into the night sky as she’d done so often in her youth, but this time she let the tears flow freely.
It wasn’t every night you had to decide the fate of humanity.
Chapter 1
Cris was awakened by the vague sensation of pain. He’d narrowed it down to his right leg and was starting to open his eyes when he was struck with a massive charley horse in his calf. Cris let out a little yelp and immediately started clutching his leg. Over the next few seconds, he just breathed heavily and endured the pain until he remembered to flex his foot, pulling his toes towards his body for some relief until the pain subsided, and he could start massaging his calf muscle.
Why does this keep happening to me? Is it me, or maybe my bed?
It was about then that he realized he wasn’t in his bed. It was a reasonably comfortable bed, a bit smaller than he was used to, and a bit Spartan. As he looked around, he realized the entire room fell into that description. Blank white walls with no windows, a simple white table and chair made out of ceramic, and a long mirror were the only appliances.
Cris muttered, “What the hell…?”
He threw back the white cover and sheets, and found he was still in the clothes he remembered wearing last night – a simple black T-shirt with a blue short-sleeve shirt unbuttoned over it, jeans, and his favorite comfy shoes. He checked his pockets, but found them empty. No phone, wallet, keys, or change. Everything had been taken from him.
Okay, now I’m getting a little worried. Did somebody kidnap me and lock me in here?
Cris’ thoughts flew back to last night.
I finished typing up a story last night. It was a big one, too. Contractors for the Hewley building did substandard work with non-union scabs and marked it all up to spec. Not only could it bring down the contracting company, but the Hewley building will have several new building code violations to deal with, and that could make me an enemy of the richest man in Arlington. But could even he have arranged this?
There were two doors, a small one by the mirror, and a large door with no doorknob at the head of the bed, and both doors seemed to be made out of the same ceramic material as the furniture. He tried the small door first and found a small bathroom with a sink, toilet, and tiny shower stall.
That answers that question, at least.
Cris closed the door and was going to check the other one when the mirror caught his attention. He stopped to take a closer look and realized there was some kind of smooth collar made of that same ceramic around his neck. It didn’t appear to have any openings or buttons he could discern, and it was too small to get his head through. He tugged at it for a bit but quickly realized it was pointless.
He dug his thumb under the edge of the collar to try to feel the inside, but the lights in the room turned red, and a deep klaxon blared at him from seemingly out of nowhere. As Cris w
Cris let his hand fall from the collar as the words vanished and the wall became pure featureless white again.
What the hell kind of nightmare have I gotten into?
He went to the other door, but it was completely smooth, and appeared to be made out of similar material as the rest of the furniture. He tried to open it, but he didn’t have much luck without anything to grab onto. He balled up his fists and banged on it.
“HEEYYY!! LET ME OUT OF HERE!”
It felt simultaneously cathartic and futile. If they could kidnap me in the middle of the night without me even noticing…what else are they capable of?
Cris walked slowly back to the bed and sat down heavily. His eyes wandered back over the featureless room. Feeling the injustice of it all, he thought a little snark for his oppressors was appropriate. “You couldn’t be bothered to give me a magazine or something?”
Without warning, words again appeared on the wall opposite, this time colored blue.
Oddly polite for kidnappers, Cris thought, as the words faded away. He checked the wall behind him, looking for a projector of some sort, but the wall was just as blank and empty as the one the words had appeared on. Maybe it’s not a wall, but one big computer screen?
Cris decided investigation was the right tactic in a situation like this and proceeded to pore over the room. The walls were smooth to the touch. The room was pristine, no dust or dirt that he could detect, like the room had been carved into existence the moment he had been brought to it.
It was puzzling. The imprisonment, collar, and threat of punishment indicated malevolence - the polite message that he’d be released soon indicated the opposite. Unless it’s a monkey’s paw kind of thing…I get released, but there’s just a pack of hungry tigers outside that door.
At that exact moment, the door slid sideways into the wall with an audible hiss.
Cris was tempted to bolt for the doorway, but given his last thought, he warily stood up and walked towards it instead. What he saw stopped him just short of crossing the door’s threshold.
Outside his door appeared to be a hallway, and directly opposite his door was another open doorway. Just beyond, a visibly frightened girl his own age stared wide-eyed back at him.
Chapter 2
She had long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, a small pointed nose, and her eyes were two different colors. Her right eye was a warm green, but her left was icy blue. Her eyes locked with Cris’ as they exchanged a look of fear and uncertainty.
Cris had never been in this situation before, so the best he could manage was, “Hi.”
The girl did not respond.
“And just who the hell are you?”
Now their eyes shared surprise. Almost as one, Cris and the girl leaned out of their rooms and looked toward his left.
Five other people of various ages and physical attributes stood in the hallway. Cris noted that all of them had collars like his. The first to pipe up was an older gentleman wearing glasses, an off-white shirt and matching pants, and a decidedly non-matching pair of rainbow-colored suspenders. “There’s no need to be rude.”
A tall, physically imposing young woman with long brown hair wearing blue medical scrubs stepped up to the man. “I have been kidnapped, there’s EVERY need to be rude.” It was the same voice as before.
A shorter young woman in a yellow sundress with short, spiky brown hair and black leather wristbands on her crossed arms pointed out the obvious in a slick Southern drawl. “From the look of things, I’d say all seven of us have been kidnapped, y’all.”
Scrubs, more curious than aggressive, turned to face Wristbands, “What makes you say that?”
“We all came out of identical rooms and have these stupid collars on.”
Cris looked at the room behind the girl opposite him – Wristbands was right. It was completely identical to his room.
Wristbands fiddled with her collar. “They could’ve at least made mine black. Or pink.”
A short, bald young man in camouflage pants and a tan t-shirt spoke up, “Yo, that’d be badass. Can I get mine in digital camo?” Behind him stood an unassuming young woman with shoulder-length brown hair, big brown doe eyes, glasses, a tie-dye t-shirt and jean overalls, which made her look younger than Cris guessed she was.
He looked back at the girl opposite him in her pretty orange-with-tiny-purple-flowers blouse and jeans. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was familiar somehow. But I’d definitely remember a girl with mismatched eyes.
Dismissing the thought, Cris looked to his right to see another door. This one was larger than the door he came through, but it had no knob or other method of opening that he could detect. Just in case, he tried pushing on it, and when that didn’t work, he tried to lift it, but there wasn’t enough space to get his fingers under the door.
Scrubs shouted, “I wouldn’t bother, buddy. From the look of you, I’m a lot stronger than you, and I couldn’t get my door open.”
Suspenders clapped back, “That is not evidence that he will fail. Just evidence that you failed.”
Scrubs laughed, “Oh, what are you, the pinnacle of success? How much luck did you have with your door?”
Suspenders did not waver. “I’ve gotten through it, haven’t I?”
“Because the kidnappers let all of us out.”
“That is not proven either.”
“Just stop!” That voice had come from the girl in the overalls. “This arguing is pointless and it’s getting us nowhere. We’re all in the same boat, so we should work together instead of sniping at each other.” Cris noted she had a rich, full voice and momentarily wondered if she, too, was a singer.
The girl with the multi-colored eyes finally spoke in hushed, uncertain tones. “Should…should we introduce ourselves?”
Scrubs shook her head. “No. If the kidnappers are listening in, or worse, if one of us is the kidnapper or an agent for them, we might be revealing info they could use against us.”
Camo Pants raised his hand. “I don’t know about you guys, but they took me from my bed in the middle of the night – from a military base — and neither I nor anybody else even noticed. If the kidnappers don’t already know my name, I’m pretty sure they could easily find out, yo.”
That’s a chilling thought. Kidnapping a soldier from a military base requires a lot of money, incredible audacity, insane luck, or a combination of all three.
Suspenders nodded. “The young man is correct. While revealing more damaging information would be unwise, it is most likely safe to share our names and other general details.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Cris decided to break the ice. “I guess I’ll go first, I don’t have anything to hide. My name is Cris Thorpe, I’m a reporter from Arlington, Virginia, and the last thing I remember is going to sleep in my own bed.”
Suspenders raised a hand as Cris finished speaking. “Before we go too much further, was everyone else taken while sleeping in their own bed? And was everyone sleeping alone?”
Everyone else nodded their heads.
“Myself as well. Anything else you’d care to add, Mr. Thorpe? Any idea why you’re here?”
Cris shook his head. “I mean, I literally just submitted the biggest story of my career so far, and it would’ve angered one of the richest men in Arlington, but to do all this? It would cost and risk more than any damage my story would do. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Scrubs snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m Meryn, and if my scrubs didn’t give it away, I’m a registered nurse. And I’m from Buffalo, New York. I have no enemies. I’m involved in nothing bigger than keeping my fur babies fed and happy.”
Cris couldn’t help but ask, “Cats or dogs?”
Meryn smiled for the first time. “Both.”
