"You are forgetting that he was not looking for the Creator; he was looking for a particle."
"Yes, the particle at the center of creation. But play along with me."
"Very well. You mean, what if he found the devil?"
Twiste shrugged and said, "He sure is a mean son of a bitch. Sadistic. Petty. Sounds like the devil to me."
"Or just your average IRS agent."
"Funny coming from the guy who needs me to do his taxes every year."
The door to the tiny office unbolted and swung open in one quick motion. Even the dim light of the Red Lab appeared bright compared to the solitary lamp in the office-turned-holding-cell.
Jolly stood there motioning for Twiste and Gant to stand. His breath whistled through his teeth right where there should have been a chin.
Twiste said, "He’s hurt."
Jolly did not care. Gant tried to stand. He got most of the way up, thanks to a helping hand from Twiste, but Jolly had to step in and haul the major out of the office, nearly throwing him into the lab.
The entity in the form of Dr. Ronald Briggs stood with Andrew and Ruth on his flanks. It spoke through Briggs’s mouth, and while it may not have been human there was no mistaking the anger in the way it gritted its teeth. "You did not tell me that your Captain Campion does not know how to operate the V.A.A.D."
Gant could not resist: "You didn’t ask."
Jolly instantly whacked Gant's damaged knee with the collapsible baton. He screamed and hunched but did not fall.
Twiste jumped: "Campion has the device. I was carrying the batteries to power it."
"Yes, of course. You were chosen for training. You will activate the device."
The last part of the thing’s words seemed more as if it were thinking aloud than addressing Brandon. The body of Briggs turned to walk away, as if the issue had been settled.
"I won’t do it."
Briggs’s attention fully returned to Twiste, who said, "I think I’ve figured you out. Whatever you are."
"You know nothing," it said.
"You are God?"
"Yes," it answered.
"Where did you come from — heaven?"
The question appeared to throw the entity.
Twiste went on, "You're not from heaven, but you aren't from our world, either. You are a different type of life form, maybe made of pure energy or maybe … maybe," Twiste stole a glance at Gant and said, "… maybe pure thought."
He turned back to Briggs. "Point is, you’re stuck down here. See, the way I figure it, this experiment opened up a hole into a new plane of existence — something that crosses paths with this world on a subatomic level. Hell, maybe something that really was part of the God particle."
"I AM GOD."
"No, no you’re not," Twiste corrected while Gant struggled with a new bout of pain, hearing the conversation and seeing the action from a sort of mental distance, almost apart from it. "You have some sort of power, some sort of mental power. The way I figure, maybe you’re a being that’s completely made up of what we would call mental energy, maybe psychic energy. Shit, maybe even a ghost of some sort."
"You will operate the device. You will complete your mission."
"No, I don’t think so. The V.A.A.D. isn’t going to shut the hole Briggs opened, it’s going to widen it. You may be all Mr. God and whatnot down here, but you’re still stuck down here. Open that hole and I guess you’ll be a lot more powerful and a lot more mobile. All of you will come through, and that would be bad news."
Gant recovered his composure enough to say, "Captain, do not say any more."
But Twiste would not stop.
"Come to think of it, maybe you put the idea in their head. You order your three lackeys here through some sort of mind control. I was impressed how you pulled sharp shooting out of the head of Roberts and put it into Ruthie’s head over there; pretty good. You’ve even managed to make me see some things that aren’t there, like that whole big band shit when we walked in."
Gant realized his friend had become courageous because he had decided to die, right there and right then. He was agitating the entity into dispatching him in something like suicide-by-cop, except in this case the reason was to avoid assisting this evil being.
"But you know what," Twiste said, not asked. "For some reason you just can’t get me or the major here to do anything. Oh, you can throw up an illusion or two, but you can't get in and force us. Something in our heads is keeping you out."
Briggs turned scarlet red.
Ruthie marched over like a marionette on strings. The gun she held she pointed at Major Gant.
"I will kill him right now," the entity said with its human face. "And his blood will be on your hands."
Twiste did not hesitate, as if he had foreseen this move: "Go ahead. You already said you’re going to kill Thom anyway after you're done with whatever it is you need from him. What is that, by the way?"
Again, the entity said nothing, and Gant was impressed. He had seen Brandon Twiste outtalk and outwit a number of adversaries, officers, and politicians over the years, but now he parried with God.
"Besides, Thom would agree that saving the world from whatever you’ve got planned is worth his life."
Despite the gun pointed in his direction, Gant managed to smile. He was proud of his friend, and if they were to die in the next few moments, at least it would be for a good reason.
And Jean will be free to go and live.
"There are ways to die, horrible ways to die," the thing threatened.
Again a countermove: "There are horrible ways to die. You’ve inflicted them on people already. And you’d inflict all types of horrors on people like my family, my children, my grandchild. To spare them, I’ll suffer whatever you have in store for me." Twiste turned to Gant, "Sorry, Thom, but I think it’s for the best."
"Yes, yes it is," Thom agreed.
The figure of Ronald Briggs turned away with clenched fists. Gant knew what was coming next: pain.
"You sound brave," the entity said. "But down here, this is reality. No mind games. Major Gant could survive a dozen wounds. Then I will call in my children to eat him alive. And you will be responsible for how he dies because you refuse your God."
"Wait a second — that’s' it, isn't it? That's what they are." Twiste turned to Gant. "He keeps calling them his children. Those things, in the hall. I just sort of thought that you were playing the God game and calling all creatures your children. But that's not the case, is it? You mean that very literally, don't you?"
"They are my children."
"His children, Thom. Feral children. Born in this place. Pale skin because they don't see the sun. Savage children, raised like animals, used like guard dogs, who the hell knows what they've been eating. Probably … Jesus, probably cannibals to boot."
Twiste faced Ruth.
"You're the mother, aren't you? They're your children. Twenty years of bearing this thing's offspring."
Her expression — that vacant expression — turned sad. Gant saw decades of torment there. Not neglect, but a form of torture perhaps no man could ever really know.
Twiste flashed Gant a glance and Thom saw what his friend had done. With the exception of Jolly, Twiste had thrown their captors off balance. The entity looked elsewhere, grappling with some emotion, almost certainly anger and frustration. Andrew trembled and his dead eyes alternated between Gant and Briggs and Twiste, unsettled to the point that Thom worried a nervous spasm might let a bullet fly. Ruth faded off into some horrible memory. Of all the souls tortured in the Hell Hole, none could know her misery.
Point was, Twiste had given them a chance … and they proceeded to take it.