Project
Code Name - Hemisphere
Part i
********
“Are you sure you want to ask me?”
“Yes. I have to.”
She looked at me, hard, then sad.
With a sigh, she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Go ahead, then.”
Morning. The pale gray filtered in through the streaked window.
Another day. Some days, I thought it was a sign of hope.
Most days, I knew the truth. A
quick cup of coffee, cold shower, and questionable shave later, I was walking
down the street towards the office.
The street was busy with the people who woke up
before me, running back and forth doing whatever it was they did.
I walked along the sidewalk, looking at the shops that were open, each
with a few people inside, some of them hoping for more business, other just
looking for something to do to pass the time.
I turned the corner and could see Henry.
He was sitting outside his small drug store,
leaning against the crumbling brick wall, absently holding a bottle of Coke,
like some harshly aged poster boy. He
fanned him self slightly with his hand and took another drink.
When he saw me, he winked at me and flashed a decaying smile.
His teeth had long since succumbed to the daily soaking.
“Morning, Henry,” I said with as much
enthusiasm as I could muster.
“Hey, you’re up early today.”
“Bird, worm, and all.
Business good?”
“Just the usual.
Supposed to rain later today. We
could use it.”
“That’s what I hear.”
I glanced at the greasy cloud sky.
Maybe it would make good on its threat.
To the west, I could see a gradual darkening beyond the buildings.
“Well, you heard it right, then.
Hey, you want a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“Uh, huh.
That friend of yours was by your office last night.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah, she brought me some soup again.
She’s an angel.”
“That’s why I pay her.”
“Uh, huh.
Sure. See you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
I walked down a few more buildings and turned into mine.
On the building directory, along with a dentist, marriage counselor,
and shoe repair store, was 321. Next
to it was ‘Personal Investigator - Jack Penridge’.
My
name is Jack.
The office was on the third floor.
I stomped up the worn stair case, faintly aware of the humming of the
electric lights in the hall. I
unlocked the door and picked up the mail.
I shut the door behind me, and began sweeping my hand up and down as I
went through the office. A few
spiders lived there. I had been
completely unsuccessful in finding them, but every night, they left thin web-lines
across the doorway. And every
morning I was at the office, they managed to catch me.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the phone.
It was blinking a red light every so often.
I pressed the button.
“Hey, its me.”
It was her. “I picked up
your laundry. It’s in the
closet. I also put a few things
in your refrigerator. I hope you
found them. Let me know when you
want me to stop by the apartment. Take
care.” I slowly hung up the
phone.
She had picked up my laundry.
It was in the closet. I
contemplated opening the closet door as if somehow that would reassure me that
she had been here. But I wasn’t
quite sure why I needed to know that.
I sat for a second, waiting for someone to walk
in the door. Someone to call. Anyone
who needed their lover followed, photographed, and reassured that they were in
fact in love. But the very act of
hiring me, it seemed, was a testimony to the fact that it wasn’t.
No
called. I twisted slightly in the
chair, spinning slowly, counting off degree, until I was facing one of the two
windows in the office. I sat
there, starring out the window, watching the birds shoot from building to
building. Then the door opened.
I turned around and watched her swing the door open and kick down the
doorstop.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m just here to check up on you.”
“I’m fine.
Just waiting.”
“I know. How
about we take you to the lounge area?”
“No, thanks.”
She walked towards me.
I put my hands on the arms of my chair to lift myself out.
It was then that I noticed the wheels.
They seemed pretty large for an office chair.
And I didn’t remember them on the side of the chair.
Thin beige rubber wheels, with a shiny outer rim.
She unlatched the wheels and spun me around
towards the door. Everything was
much lighter, shimmering white of linoleum.
I sat there, watching the high gloss walls roll by while the banks of
fluorescent lights blurred overhead.
“I need a cigarette.”
I patted my shirt pocket. I
looked down. I didn’t really
have a pocket, or even a shirt. It
was more of a thin, powder blue thing tied with a string around my neck and
waist. I wasn’t sure what kind
of fashion statement I was trying to make.
“I’ve told you before, you can’t smoke
here.”
“Fine. I
don’t have them on me anyways.”
“Uh, huh.”
The hallways were empty.
Most of the doors we passed were closed as well.
In the few that were open, I could see beds in each.
On the doors were clipboards in plastic holders.
We whipped around a corner to what must have been the lounge.
“Hey, everyone.
Look who’s here.” the woman said as she navigated me into the room.
There was an old television floor unit, complete with dials, stuffed in
the corner of the pea green carpeted room.
Surrounding it like a campfire were wheelchairs, a couple of worn
sofas, and rocking chairs. Wheelchair
occupants alternated looking at me, the television, or some spot in the upper
corner of the room. Most of the
people in the rocking chairs and on the couch were either moving in a slow
rocking motion or sitting still, heads slightly slumped to the side.
The handful that opted to look at me smiled or at least grimaced at my
approach. All of them were in
pajamas.
“Hi, Laura,” some of them said as we approached.
“Carl wanted to say hello.”
A couple of them turned towards me.
One of them, who couldn’t have been older than fifteen, looked at me
while rapidly twisting circles in his hair.
He started grunting and smiling and bouncing up and down on the couch.
“Hi,
Carl.” he said, the words
forced out with each bounce on the cushion.
“Carl’s
my friend,” an older man said to the boy’s left.
“He and I were in the fifty-third together.
Right, Carl?” He looked
at me, expecting something for a second, and then turning away.
I
starred at all of them for a moment. The
woman behind me, Laura, patted my shoulder.
“Are you shy today?” she asked me.
“Uh,
hi, everyone.”
My
name is Carl.
Part
ii
I wasn’t sure what we were watching. It
looked like a Nature channel. Something
about prairie dogs and vacuum cleaners. I
looked at the woman next to me. Her
white hair was thinning. She kept
repositioning her shaking hand under her chin and leaning against the arm of
the sofa. She saw me looking at
her and smiled.
“Are you my grandson?
Are you Tom?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad.
I miss Tommy. Little
Tom.”
"Yeah.
How long have you been here?”
She ignored me and turned to the fifteen-old boy
sitting next to her. “Tommy?
Give your grammy a hug.” She
clutched the boy. He started
screaming and swinging, hitting mostly the back of the couch.
Laura and another one came running.
“No, Em, stop it. That’s
not Tommy. That’s Franklin,
remember?”
She and the other one pulled them apart.
Franklin leaped away from the sofa and perched on a chair, glaring.
The woman started crying.
The other one, black hair, mid-forties, wide face, looked at Laura,
mid-thirties, short blond hair, narrow face, glasses, and pointed to her
watch.
“Okay, everyone,” Laura said.
“It’s snack time.”
That caused some of them to start chanting
“Snack time, snack time” and the rest to continue drooling.
I wasn’t hungry. The
older woman grabbed my chair and rotated me.
We started on a course towards an open area of tables, half of them
with chairs.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat, Carl.
You’ll need your strength for the art class this afternoon.”
“Do you have a cigarette?”
“You know that you can’t smoke here, Carl.
Come on, let’s see what you’ve got for snack.
Maybe it’s your favorite. Graham
crackers.”
I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think I even liked graham crackers.
But maybe I did. I realized that I didn’t know how graham crackers tasted.
Were they like cardboard or pie crust?
Pie crust. We cruised
passed slower moving people meandering along side the wall, absently tracing
the line with their hands. I
noticed a series of them, in various colors, running along the wall at waist
height. We stopped when we got to
the end of the red stripe.
The dining room was two long tables with a few
chairs. Some of them were led to
there chairs, others were wheeled slowly.
The woman pushing me left me just a foot off the table.
I sat there, looking around. At
first, I had the table all to myself, and then they brought a girl to sit
opposite me.
“This is Mary.
She’s going to eat some snacks today, aren’t you, Mary?”
“Hmm.” She
sat in the chair and pulled a leg up so her head was resting on her knee.
She started gnawing on her pinky finger nail.
The woman walked across the room to help some of the others.
She kept staring at me, eyes watching me intently like a cat. She was young and her eyes sunken in slightly.
There was a small red patch just below her nose.
“What are you in for?”
“What?”
“What are you here for?”
“Someone said something about snack time.”
“No, I mean here.
They think I’m going to keep trying to kill myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve tried a few times.”
“What happened?”
“My boyfriend found me one time, and then my
parents. They freaked out. Like
something had ruined their precious home.
I was in here the next day.”
“Oh. Did
you ruin their house?”
“Not really.
Most of it was on the bathroom floor, so it wasn’t like they had to
get new carpeting or anything. Mom
probably made Dad clean it up.”
The woman returned with two small plastic trays
of crackers and apple slices and slid them in front of us.
I doubted I would have eaten it even if I was hungry.
The apple slices had a darkening layer of brown and the graham crackers
were dusty and coated with something. Mary
picked up her napkin and used it to arrange apple slices into a spiral.
“I’m not hungry.” I said, turning to look
at the woman behind me.
She
stopped and the smile that had been fixed on her face instantly fell.
“Look, I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. Grab an apple slice and start chewing.”
“I’m
sorry. I’m sure it’s great,
but I’m not hungry right now.”
Further
down the table, Franklin was
listening intently to our conversation. When
I said I wasn’t hungry again, started rocking quickly back and forth,
tapping his chin against the tray each time he rocked forward.
“Pick
one up and eat it, Carl. You’ll
like it”
“Like
hell.” I said. For a moment,
there was a stillness between the woman, Mary, and I.
If her facial expression didn’t clue me into the fact that this was
the wrong thing to say, Franklin shattering the silence by repeating it did.
He
started shrieking ‘Like hell, I’m not hungry” and whipping his plate
back and forth, cracker sections flying off plate and splattering on the
floor. The older guy across the
way started yelling ‘Quiet, quiet, lights out.’
The woman next to Franklin started slapping him, except her vision must
have been going because she wound up hitting the back of his chair instead.
The
nurse shouted at Franklin and then started waving back towards the entrance to
the room. I turned and saw two
muscular men, both with short hair and grim expressions move towards us.
Franklin
jumped out of his seat and sprawled across the table.
One of the guy took the opposite side, the other on my side of the
table. Franklin started flopping
up and down on the table, knocking everything off and shouting.
He slid half on the table, half on the chairs, and starred upside down
at the streaky light coming through the window.
“Like
hell. Like hell.
Like hell.” His voice
trailed off in a whisper.
One
of the men lunged for him. ‘Poor
Franklin,’ I thought. Then the
other guy wrapped his large arm around me from behind.
Startled, I bolted back from the table, my head connecting with his
jaw. I turned around to mumble an
apology when his fist shot my head back forward.
Somehow, my chair tipped over and I spilled out, rolling under the
table. I lay there for a moment,
and then saw Mary, huddled against the leg of the table. A thin line of blood grew from her left nostril.
It glowed brilliantly against her pale white skin.
“Smile,” she said in a whisper.
Then
I was yanked out from under the table. Then
the angry young guy tossed my roughly back in the chair.
Then my arms were held down. Then
the woman came with a needle. Then
I could have sworn she had a vicious smile on her face.
I could have sworn she stabbed me with it twice before pushing the
plunger down and icy fire ripped through my veins, coursing up my arm, across
my shoulder, and exploded in my head a burning purple light.
Then I threw up. No
wonder, I thought, I wasn’t hungry.
The
phone rang. It jerked my out of
my sleep. I rubbed my eyes with
the back of my hand. It rang
again. Determined, I picked up
phone and propped it on the desk next to my head.
There was a silence on the other end.
I sighed.
“I’m
not interested.”
“I
beg your pardon?” A man,
somewhat timid voice. Sounded a
bit like my uncle who lived in Florida.
“I
said I’m not interested. You’re
a telemarketer, right?”
“Uh,
no. Is this Penridge Invest...”
“Yeah,
yeah. Sorry about that. Been getting a lot of calls lately.”
“I
see. If this is a bad time, I can call back.”
I
glanced at my watch. It seemed to
have stopped at four-thirty. Lovely.
“No, this is fine. What can I do for you?”
“I’d
like to meet with you to discuss some, ah, business.”
“I
assume investigation. Wife?”
“What? Oh, no, nothing like that.”
“Son? Daughter?”
“No,
no, it’s not like that. Look,
maybe I can...”
“Sorry. Like I said, lot of calls lately. Where do you want to meet?”
“Oh,
I’m not sure.”
“Right. Lido Lounge. It’s
near the airport. And no,” I
said, cutting him off as he cleared his throat, “it’s not one of those
places. Quiet bar where no one
will bother us. How about in an
hour?”
“Sure. That will work. How
will I recognize you?”
I
paused. How indeed? I’d
manage to spend another day sleeping or at least it felt like it.
I rubbed my hand across the stubble that’d been there since long
before five. “I’ll be the guy
who looks like he needs a drink. I’ll
find you.”
“Okay. Thank you.” He
hung up and I sat there, head propped up on one hand, phone laying against my
head. I tapped my free hand
absently against the underside of the desk.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
She was late.
I
scrawled on an old receipt that I was going to the Lido for a client.
I told her to leave me a message.
I thanked her for something or other.
I sighed again and closed the door to the office, not bothering to lock
it. If someone wanted to steal
that badly, they were more than welcome to the notepads and pencils.
The
Lido Lounge was just north of the airport.
It was nestled among the garish pink neon lights, set further back from
the road than the Girls Girls Girls! and All Nude Review.
In truth, it used to be an XXX before the current owner, Maggie, bought
it. I know this from talking to
her one evening when I really needed to be alone or with a drink or both, and
wound up there.
I
pulled into the half empty parking lot. I
backed into the spot. Mostly out
of habit. I was a bit early. I finished my cigarette and flicked it towards a perpetual
puddle in the gravel parking lot. The
front door swung open, and a blast music shot past me, escaping into the
night. I wondered when they’d
added loud music night.
The
dark bar was thick with smoke that glowed in a haze near the bright beer
signs. I walked up to the bar, noticed the few people on the stools
and the boisterous trio at the pool table.
There was a new guy behind the bar.
“Maggie
in tonight?”
“Not
now. She’ll probably be here at close. Can I get you somethin’?”
Something.
Whiskey? I was meeting a
client. “Whatever’s on
tap.”
“Bud.”
“I’ll
bet.” He didn’t seem to like
that one. I took the glass,
ignoring the froth slipping down the sides and walked to a table.
The television was playing absently in the background, flickering
images of a news report followed by a silent baseball game.
The
front door opened, and two women entered.
They looked like business women, dressed up.
Probably a conference nearby. Wanted
to stop and get a drink. How they
found the place, I wasn’t sure. They
glanced nervously around the room, and ordered at the bar.
Somehow, I must have been giving off the least threatening vibe in the
bar, because they sat down at the table in front of me.
Low
tones, they talked, slowly building volume, as if to include me.
The one on the right, dark hair brushing against shoulders, drinking
her beer out of the corner of her mouth, corners which slipped up in her
smile, glanced over at me. The
one on the left, shorter blonde hair, eyes crawling back and forth around the
room, small sips from her beer, looked the opposite direction.
And
I was annoyed. I didn’t want
them there, sitting in front of me, giving me nothing to look at, nothing to
notice, but them. Sitting,
dressed up, the faint smell of perfume, and all I wanted was to meet, damn.
I realized that I didn’t even know his name. I was slipping.
“Have
you been here before?” the one on the right asked me.
The one on the left turned towards me, almost trying to hide a smile,
looked at me. I was suddenly
aware of myself, sitting alone at a table, glass of beer squarely in the
center, arms resting on the table on either side, a cigarette burning ignored
in my right hand. In that
awareness, I became uneasy. Which
only explains why.
“Place
used to be a strip club. Triple
X. A brand new nude dancer every
five minutes was there motto. Used
to were metal things on their breasts. They’re
up there along the wall.” I
pointed to the row of metal disks that were nailed along the wall. They pretended to glance.
There
it was and the two business women, who were just trying to find a nice place
to drink, sat next to me, and wanted to know why I was there.
What else could I say?
They
weren't happy. There wasn't really a good explanation for what I'd said
at that moment to them. So, instead of pursuing our conversation, they
suddenly decided that their drinks would be better around the jukebox. I
wasn't sure, but I thought I overheard one of them call me an asshole. I
was busy thinking of something else to say to them when the front door opened,
and a man entered. He was unmistakably my client.
Part
iii
He
glanced nervously around the bar as I nodded towards him.
I should have ordered a drink for him, I thought as he approached. He was in his late forties, short, even light brown hair with
small oval glasses. He was
wearing a tan rain coat with an umbrella under one arm.
He pulled out the chair and sat down.
He laid his umbrella down on the table.
It was one of those cheap looking ones with the automatic opening
button. It didn’t look fancy,
but then I wasn’t sure I even owned an umbrella.
“You here with the conference
women?” I asked.
“What?
No. Look, are you Jack?”
“No, I’m just here looking for a
date.”
“Cute.
My name’s Jeff, Jeff Hems. I
don’t have to sit here for this.”
“Don’t worry,” I said.
“I’ll get up.” Before
he said anything else, I stood up from the bar and ordered him a vodka.
He probably would have wanted a martini, but I didn’t feel like
ordering it. I set it down in
front of him and lit another cigarette.
“What’s this for?”
“Your nerves.
Take a drink, and stop looking around the bar.
Either someone’s here and they see you or they’re not.
Looking at them isn’t going to help.”
He just nodded and took an extended
sip from his glass and set it down. He
wiped his mouth and then looked at me. “Do
you have to smoke?”
“Not really.
It’s a choice I make every day.
Like a marriage.”
“No, I mean, do you have to smoke
here.”
“I know what you meant.”
I took another puff but tried to be considerate by aiming my exhale out
of the side of my mouth.
“You don’t have many clients, do
you?”
“How did you get my name?”
“Random.
You didn’t have a large ad in the phone book.”
“Right.
So, what can I do for you?”
“Just like that?”
“I really wanted to drink, I could
do it at home alone.”
“Fine.
Just like that.” He took another sip and lowered his voice.
“Here it is. I work at a consultant firm.
We broker the contacts and then assign our people accordingly.
We deal mostly in the IT area. You
know, computers, software, and so on.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“With your attitude, it’s no
wonder you can afford the large ad.”
“Yes, but I don’t charge extra
for it. Contract, people, you
send them. Go on.”
“Right.
So, I was working late one night, because that’s what they expect if
you’re going to move beyond the junior associate level.
Plus, I have to compete against Tom, the guy next to me.
He’ll sit in his cubicle and listen in on my phone conversations and
then take my leads and call them. He’s
basically stealing my work, and no one seems to care.
They just want to keep the contracts going, no matter how they get
them. Some day, I’m going to
show him.”
“Stay on track.”
“Oh, sorry.
It’s just that he’s been doing this since the day I started.”
I nodded absently as I exhaled.
I was wishing it had turned out to be his wife.
I glanced at his hand. No
ring.
“So, I was staying late, even the
cleaning crew had cleared out. Anyway, I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, I heard
voices. I didn’t expect anyone.
They must have thought the building was empty.
I parked in the back and, well, I didn’t have any lights on.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want Tom to see that I
was working.”
“Why would he care if you were
working?”
“He does that.
He’s always trying to one up me.
If I worked late, he’d come in, work the entire night, and then work
the whole day.”
“So you hide from him to work.”
“It’s not hiding.
As I was saying, I heard voices. I
wasn’t sure who it was, so I stood there for a minute listening.
They were talking about the quote for a project and then I heard them
arguing. I wasn’t sure what
about. Something about
undercharging for a project. Then
I heard one of them hit the other. I
mean, loudly. I peeked around the
corner. It was the head project
manager and a guy from finance. The
guy from finance was on the ground with a bloody nose.
He said he was tired of covering up for him.
Then they left.
The next day, after work, I checked
on the financials from the projects the guy was on.
I couldn’t access the financial statements.
They were gone.”
“So?”
“That’s what I do.
I compare the finances with the people we assign to a project.
I should have been able to pull them up.
So I started looking, over old email and notes that I’d taken.
I managed to piece it together. Between
them, they were charging the client but then reporting we’d gotten less.”
“So they were skimming off the
top. Why hasn’t someone in
accounting discovered this yet?”
“I don’t know.
They may not if all of the review was through the other guy.”
“A company wouldn’t have just
one person review and approve an item. Isn’t
there some kind of higher up approval?”
“Not for us.
You’d be surprised. We
need to constantly book projects as fast as we can to keep our profit margins
up. The difference of a couple
thousand on a multi-million dollar contract is nothing.”
“Did you report this to anyone?”
“I was going to, but I don’t
have solid enough evidence. And I’m not sure who to talk to.
Higher management is a tightly knit group. I’m not sure who knows what and who’s just not
talking.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m getting to that.
See, after I starting looking into this, I noticed some odd things.
Little things at first, like a window being unlocked at home, or a
pencil on the floor. Small
things. I couldn’t remember for
sure if I’d locked the window or if I’d accidentally knocked the pencil
over. But then, things started
getting more overt. My papers on
my desk shuffled through, some of my mail opened.”
“You think it’s someone from
work. How would they have known
you overheard them?”
“I don’t know.
I thought maybe it was because of the files I was trying to access.
Maybe because I was asking some people about the billing for those
projects. I’m not sure.”
“Someone’s trying to see what
you know?”
“I think it’s even more than
that. See, I live alone with my
cat, Norway. He’s a Russian
Blue. You know those kinds of
cats?”
“Yeah, the ones with the legs and
tail.”
“Right.
Well, I came home two nights ago, and I couldn’t find Norway.
Which is strange, because he always greets me by the door so I can feed
him. I looked all around the
house, but I couldn’t find him. I
called my maid to see if she had taken him or had seen him.
She said she hadn’t seen him all day.
Then, the next night, I get home and there’s something laying on my
door step.”
“Norway.”
“He was dead and they left him
there.”
“They?
You know, he could have, somehow, gotten out of the house, and then hit
by a car. And the person felt bad
so they left him there.”
“He wasn’t hit by a car.
That’s the scary part. There
wasn’t a mark on him. I took
him to the vet’s, and they refused to look into it.”
“So who did it then?”
“They did.
They were sending me a message.”
“It cost you a cat.”
“A cat that was mine.
A pet that I’ve had for years.”
“And they wanted you to know that
it may cost you more.”
“Exactly.
So you can see why I need your help.”
“I can’t.
You still haven’t told me what you want me for.”
“Proof.
I want you to get proof.”
“Police...”
“Police need facts and evidence.
They aren’t going to find anything if they start inquiring. Documents will be shredded and an alibi agreed upon.
I don’t have time for that and I don’t think I’d live that
long.”
“So you want me to get
information.”
“Right.”
“Which you, the person who works
there, can get access to.”
“Right.”
“So exactly do you expect me to
find this alleged information.”
“You know, after hours, you could
look around. I’ve got a key you
could use.”
“Break and entry, hmm.”
“Isn’t that part of your job?”
“Not usually.”
“I’ll pay you a lot of money.”
“So?
All I have to go on is what you’re saying.
I can’t just waltz into your company, with your key, to start
snooping through corporate files. Aren’t
most of those stored on computer?”
“Look, I don’t know what else to
do. This obviously was a
mistake.” He stood up and
headed towards the door.
I put out my long forgotten
cigarette, grabbed his umbrella, and went after him.
I caught up to him just before he went out the front door.
“I don’t like the sound of it.
Give me your phone number and I’ll think it over.”
He glanced at me, and their was a
sense of resignation in his eyes. He
nodded silently and pulled a card out of his wallet.
With out another word, he left. I
stood there starring at his card for a moment.
Then I went back to the table and picked up my jacket.
As I walked into the evening mist, Jeff drove by, out of the parking
lot, and onto the rain soaked streets. I
got into my car and sat there a moment, watching his brake lights at the
intersection.
Another car, a pickup truck, kicked
over, and drove out of the parking lot, turning the same direction that Jeff
had. I didn’t remember seeing
anyone leave the bar after me. Maybe
it wasn’t anything. I supposed
I didn’t have anything else to do. I
followed the pickup.
Right off, Jeff went left and the
pickup went right. I figured I
was getting paranoid. Not
wanting to frighten Jeff, I turned with the pickup.
We drove down a couple streets in a development
and then cut back to a main street.
Just in time to see a white Acura drive by.
Jeff’s Acura. The pickup
turned to follow. I turned.
I was close enough to make out the
license plate, even in the rain. I
tried to drive and open the glove compartment at the same time.
I didn’t work out so well, but I didn’t think I had anything there
anyway. It was just raining so
hard, the wipers racing back and forth hard and futile.
I kept repeating the license plate
numbers as I pulled further back from the truck.
I didn’t know where we were heading.
I had to stick with the truck to find out who it was.
Fortunately, they were probably distracted with following Jeff. Not likely to look behind and see me swerving trying to find
a pen. We slowed down, coming to
a turn off into another street lined with houses and street lights.
In a blur, I saw the red of brake lights, and Jeff pulled into a house.
The truck continued on. Further
down the street, it pulled into a driveway and turned around.
I went down about ten more houses, and slowly pulled into the drive.
I killed the lights.
No one appeared to be home. The
house lights were off. I hoped
they didn’t show up soon. Down
the street, I could see the pickup truck park in the street, a few doors down
from Jeff’s. Without turning on
the lights, I shifted the car into reverse and backed into the street.
I pulled parallel to the curb and turned off the engine.
I twisted into the back seating, looking desperately for an umbrella.
I came up with an Indians baseball cap.
Sighing, I pulled it on and stepped out into the pouring rain.
*******
The torrent water was hitting me in the face and back of the head.
I wasn’t sure if it was relaxing or annoying.
I turned my head a little bit, but then it was gushing into my nose.
I snorted and rolled to the side.
“Somebody’s finally waking
up.”
I pushed myself up with one hand and
kicked back with a foot. My back found smooth solidity.
I rested against it. The
water wasn’t so bad anymore. I
cracked an eyelid. All I saw was
white and splashes.
I pushed myself off the wall and wound up on my hands and knees, the
water splaying across my back. I
cracked an eye open. Through the
water and my sodden hair, I saw her standing where the tiled wall met the
slight gray painted walls. She
looked worried.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hmm,” I replied and spat out
water. My lip felt swollen and
split. I swished some more water
around my mouth and streamed it against the wall.
“You don’t look so well.”
“I’ve felt better.
Water’s still warm, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
I
glanced back towards her. Her
hair was different. She was
wearing the black sweater with buttons up the front and a necklace.
She was smiling slightly, sadly, as she watched me.
I nodded. “Where you
been?”
“Around. I had to stop for some errands.
Why?”
“Just
wondered. I thought that
you...”
I
was interrupted by a loud thump. From
behind her, I heard the bathroom door open.
The one who had the needle stepped through, grimacing at me.
I wasn’t happy to see her.
“Well,
I hope you’re satisfied with yourself,” she said, nearly spitting the
words out. Franklin still hasn’t calmed down. We had to lock him up. And
that poor Mary. Why did you do
it?”
Her
voice bounced around with the water. I
bent my head down and shook it under the stream of warmth.
“Why?”
she asked again, louder, rattling the shower curtains.
The metal rings clanged against the bar, blending with the water.
“Do
what?”
“Hit
Mary.”
“I
didn’t hit her.”
“She
has a giant bruise on the side of her face.”
“It
wasn’t me. It was probably one
of your goons.”
The
nurse slammed open the shower curtains full and smacked down on the water.
The soothing warmth shot straight to bitter cold.
Not willing to move, I bit down on my lower lip, and blood trickled
down my chin and dripped slowly onto the floor.
It swirled and down the drain. I
glanced up. The nurse was standing there, glaring at me, alone.
Another nurse knocked on the door
and opened it. She glanced at me
and quickly shut off the water.
“What’s going on here?” she
asked, while the needle totting nurse just stood, arms crossed, burning her
eyes into me.
“Some one needs to learn a
lesson,” she said. “Laura,
can you finish up here?” Without
waiting for a reply, she turned and left.
Laura frantically grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me.
She towel dried me, her short, muscled arms making quick work of the
water, and warming me with the rough friction.
I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t do
it myself. When she let go,
however, I started spinning and then half sat, half fell on to the toilet.
Fortunately, the lid was down. I
was starting to get concerned.
“You’ve been busy today,
haven’t you?” Laura asked, running the water in the sink.
“Not sure.”
“What do you mean, you’re not
sure? You know, you really should
try to control yourself.”
“Me?
I’m just fine.”
“Right.
It’s not like you do this all the time.”
“I don’t, do I?”
“No.
It’s only once a month.”
“What do you mean?
How long have I been here?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
“You’ve been here for eight
months.”
“Oh,” I said.
I gripped the side of the toilet to keep the bathroom from spinning.
Part
IV.
Eight
months, I wondered. What the hell
had I been doing here for eight months? And
why couldn’t I remember it. Or
could I? I opened my eyes in the
blue of the bedroom. The light filtered in through the thin curtains, and the tree
limbs danced shapes across the wall. I
tried to replay the past few hours in my mind.
I tried to focus, but somehow I couldn’t. I sat up and swung my feet over the edge of the bed.
I slipped off the bed and padded on
stocking feet to the door. I cracked it open and glanced out the door.
The fluorescent lights buzzed mindlessly in the linoleum halls.
I looked further down the hall. Empty.
Across the hall, I could hear some weak coughing.
I paused and crouched low to the glowing white linoleum and slid its
length, my socks making no sound. In
the room, there was a figure, shrouded in bedclothes wheezing and coughing for
a moment, then resting back onto the padded platform.
I moved, past the rows of opened
doorways that emitted an electric breathing of machinery and beeping, towards
the nurse's station. I ducked low, moving alongside the half wall counter.
I pressed myself, back against the wall, and listened to the drone of
the two women seated behind the counter.
They were droning on and on about the charts.
No one mentioned me.
To the other end of the hall were
two large metal doors. There was a swipe card reader against the wall.
It had a tiny light on it at the top that glimmered red.
I ducked back the way I came. I
passed a large window. The
parking lot light plastered an orange glow across the hallway.
The hallway ended. I
turned around. She was standing
there, waiting for me.
"Where have you been?"
"I was trying to find a way out
of here."
"Why?"
"Did you know I've been here
for eight months."
She looked away and brushed her hand
against her face. When she turned
back, the wet streak gleamed blue in the moonlight.
She nodded slowly.
"How did I get here?"
"I thought you knew."
"Why?"
She looked at me sadly.
Slowly, she slid down, and rested on the floor, her back against the
wall.
"Why?" I repeated.
"What's wrong?"
She looked at me for a second, eyes
shining threw strands of her hair. "What's
your name?"
Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't
sure. It lasted only for a
second, until the hairy, muscular arm wrapped from behind me around my neck
and locked. I tried to struggle,
but the weight brought me crashing to the cold linoleum floor in slow motion
as she faded from sight.
The rain across the road as I
crossed the street towards Jeff's house.
The windy waved through the trees, flickering house lights.
I reached to pull my jacket collar up, but it didn't really have a
collar. More of a fabric ridge.
I hunched down against the rain and moved up the sidewalk.
I was simply a locale, walking down the street at night.
In the rain. For the air,
would be my story.
I lit a cigarette and tried
unsuccessfully to keep it under the hat brim.
Smoke blew into my eyes and I eventually spat it out.
I approached the pickup truck from the passenger side.
When I got close, I glanced at it for a moment.
Empty. I stopped and moved
a bit closer to it. I looked in
through the passenger window. Nothing
inside. Maybe it was a rental.
Or the owner was exceptionally clean. On
the opposite side of the street was Jeff's house.
Leaning towards the hood, I looked
up at Jeff's house. A faint light
was on inside. I thought I saw
shapes on the porch. I wiped some
of the rain from my face and walked up the driveway.
I could hear some low shouting.
As I turned the corner and
approached the front door, I could see a large figure in a raincoat, grasping
Jeff by the shoulders. As I
approached, he turned his head towards me.
"What do you want?"
he asked me.
I walked past the flowerpots lining
the walkway up towards them. "What's
going on?" I asked, using my neighbor on a walk for some fresh air voice.
"None of your business."
"You bothering my neighbor?
Why? Is it for that
auditor's election coming up? Let
him make up his own mind"
At this, he let Jeff go for a second
and took a few lumbering steps towards me.
"I
said, it's none of your business. Now
get out of here before you get hurt."
Some
people talk with their fists. Physical
expression of intellectual justice. My
confidence in my ability to take him on with my baseball cap was pretty low.
"Sorry,"
I told Jeff and walked away.
As
soon as he turned back around to Jeff, I picked up a flowerpot and smashed it
on his head. I talk with
flowerpots. It was pretty sturdy.
It took three tries before it broke.
The guy didn't seem to mind as he slowly slumped against the steps.
"We
need to get out of here," Jeff shouted, racing down the front porch steps
and towards the driveway.
"We
need to call the police."
"No
police."
"Look, he was assaulting
you."
"Dammit.
I don't want the police involved yet.
I need to get the facts."
"I don't like this.
We shouldn't just leave him here."
"He'll be fine, come on."
Jeff raced into the street.
I paused for a moment and looked at the crumpled raincoat on the steps. Sighing, I took off my cap and put it over his head so he
wouldn't drown.
I turned and walked towards the
driveway. I started running and
shouting when it became clear that the car lights were not following the road
so much as aiming at Jeff. I was
about at the driveway apron when the car hit Jeff, tossed him over the roof,
and left him against the pavement, bleeding from his head and face.
It sped into the darkness as I tried
desperately to stem the river of blood that floated in the streams of rain on
the street
I awoke with a headache.
I tried to raise my hands to my head.
They wouldn't move. Groaning,
I opened my eyes. They were
attached to railings on the bed with Velcro wrapped on itself.
I yanked as hard as I could. It
didn't even make the Velcro sound. I
couldn't remember why I was strapped down.
A few moments later, the hairy arms entered along with the rest of the
nurse. I wondered what she had
against me.
"We were busy last night,
hmm?"
"Yeah.
I was going for a walk and you were assaulting people.
Busy indeed."
"You were acting
disorderly."
"Uh huh.
And you were just trying to help me, right?"
She smiled viciously.
She gave the straps a few sharp tugs and left the room.
I closed my eyes and sank back into the pillow.
I had to get out of here. Somehow.
Maybe if I gnawed my hands off.
"They've got you in here pretty
tight, uh?" I opened my
eyes. She was sitting on the bed.
Just don't do anything drastic, ok?"
"Yeah.
What happened to you last night?"
"I don't know.
There's just something going on."
"What?"
"I can't really tell you.
He doesn't want you to know yet."
"I see.
And I don't suppose you can tell me who he is."
"No."
She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes.
Turning away for a second, I noticed the lines of the back of her neck,
the wisps of hair, and the shining necklace that glistened dully in the light.
"I can't. I'm
sorry."
"It's okay.
Can you at least untie me?"
"Untie you?" The nurse
asked as she entered my room. It wasn't hairy arms, but Laura.
"Let me see. They did
put these on tight. And I don't
think you were really doing all those things they said you were last
night." She freed me with a
loud ripping noise. I stretched
my hands to get the circulation flowing.
They had been turning a slight shade of purple.
"Thank you.
What did they say I was doing?"
"You apparently snuck out with
Mary and were trying to go outside. When
they tried to stop you, you attacked the staff, Betty, and the
orderlies."
"I didn't attack anyone.
And Mary wasn't with me."
"Actually, that's the only part
I'm sure of. She was there.
She said it was your idea."
Later, after the sun had sunken low
into the dip of the trees, I ventured out of my room, glancing on either side.
No one had warned me not to go anywhere.
I walked towards the lounge area.
Most of them were seated around the television.
It was playing the Hollywood Squares.
They shouted out answers to other questions, such as what to do after
picking your nose or whether or not someone was hungry.
I'm guessing they were answers,
because one of them wiped snot across the arm of the sofa, and Franklin sat in
a chair, arms wrapped around himself, rocking and shouting "I'm hungry
hungry hungry. I'm hungry hungry
hungry." Mary was sitting on
the windowsill looking outside. I
leaned against the wall next to her. She
looked up at me.
"You have a black eye."
"I do?"
"Yeah.
It's not too bad, though. Makes
your eyes look dark."
"Thanks.
Beats mascara."
"That's for lashes."
"You said I tried to break us
out?"
"Yeah.
Sorry about that. I was crawling around the hall and you came up to me.
You started talking to the bulletin board or something, and it was
like, my fifth time out after curfew. Figured
you could take a couple."
"A couple what?"
She pointed to my arm.
I looked. There was a
small, dark purple circle. I
rubbed it. Didn't come off. "What
is it?"
"You mean the medical name?
I don't know. They,"
she flicked her head towards the group watching television, "call it
blanket. Makes you warm and
sleep."
"Yeah, brandy has the same
effect on me. Doesn't leave a
mark though."
"Brandy?
I tried Everclear once. My
boyfriend found me after that one."
"One?"
"Attempt.
I count six, but they'll tell you it was eleven.
I wasn't even trying for those. More
like an accident that could have had a happy ending."
"Right.
Where are we?"
"The lounge."
"No.
What is this place called?"
"Ashton Psychiatrics.
You didn't know that."
"No.
How long have I been here?"
"You were here when I got here.
You slept a lot more though. Never
talked to me either."
"How long was that?"
"About five months ago."
"I see."
But I didn't. I didn't see
anything. Then it occurred
to me. "What's my
name?"
"Carl."
:"Ah.
Have they ever called me any other name?"
"Asshole, drool bag, rag,
zombie..."
"I get the picture."
"Why?
Who do you think you are?"
"Yes, who?" a voice asked
from behind me. I turned around.
She was leaning against the opposite wall.
"Who do you think you are?"
"I'd rather know who you
are."
"Look, it's more important
right now that you answer the question."
Mary reached out and touched my arm.
I turned back around. "Who
are you talking to?" she whispered.
"No one, " I said.
"My name is Jack, not Carl."
"Are you sure?" they both
asked in unison.
"Yes.
I'm sure. My name is Jack.
I'm not supposed to be here."
"What's your name?"
"Jack.
Jack Penridge."
"And how do you know the
deceased?"
"It's official now?"
"Yeah, EMS declared him at the
scene. I mean, come on, look at
him. Oh, sorry.
How did you know him?"
"He was a client of mine."
"Really?
And what do you do?"
Apparently, not body guard.
I sighed. The flashing
lights streaked across the houses and the blanket wrapped neighbors huddling
on their porches, looking onward as if something would change or be
interesting. But it didn't
change. Jeff's body was a white
sheet against the wet black of the road.
The police had put up cones and yellow tape.
Another officer was directing traffic around the scene, down a side
road. Everyone drove slowly,
looking out the window. Looking
for some reason to believe that it could never happen to them.
"He wanted me to investigate
some stuff for him."
"And he was leaving the house
and a car just hit him?"
:"Yeah.
He was heading to the car and wasn't looking."
"Yep.
It's sad how many people would be alive it they'd just looked both
ways."
"You never see the one that
gets you."
"Still.
Should always look both ways."
Yeah, I thought.
Safety town should start teaching kids how to dodge people trying to
run you over.
The officer asked me more questions
that I didn't feel like answering. I
have him a few syllables for each and gave him my card.
He assured me that there'd be more questions.
I assured him that I'd be available to answer them provided he called
the office number. I was faintly
looking forward to deleting his messages.
I didn't tell them about the goon.
When I'd run back to the house for towels while neighbors stood around
worthlessly, he was gone. Probably
woke up when the woman across the street started screaming.
I wondered why the hell she was screaming so loud in the first place.
Like somehow that would magically dial the police.
Worthless.
I made my way back to the car,
walking past the rows of people mesmerized by the lights, muttering how
terrible it was, and wondering if anyone had known him.
I sighed and threw my wet hat into the back seat.
I sat for a moment, staring at my hands that had felt his heartbeat
slowly fade and ultimately stop. I
turned the key and then gripped the wheel hard as I drove.
The
rain had thankfully let up. It
made my trip back to Lido faster. Which
meant I got four shots down my faster and was pleasantly on my way to
forgetting the evening when Maggie came in.
She talked in low tones to the
bartender and then looked at me. She said something else and then sat down on a stool next to
me. She slid my ashtray away and
replaced it with a clean one.
"Rough night," she asked
as the bartender floated a tumbler of scotch to her.
"I've had worse."
"Really?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"Client.
Dead."
"How?"
"Hit and run.
I saw the whole thing."
"Oh God.
That's awful."
"Would have been better if I'd
stopped it."
"How could you have stopped
it?"
"Pushed him aside, thrown
something, a flowerpot maybe, at the car."
"Flowerpot?"
"Never mind."
I drained my drink. Maggie
waved at the bartender and another arrived quickly.
"I heard you were in
earlier."
"I met him here.
He thought someone was following him.
They were."
"That's awful, Jack."
She reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder.
I nodded toward her and lit another cigarette.
"I didn't think you took these
kinds of jobs."
"I don't.
He picked my name at random from the phone book."
"Oh.
And now, you blame yourself."
"It was my fault.
He wanted me to help him. He
said they'd killed his cat."
"I see.
I didn't realize you controlled the world."
"Yeah.
I hate the job, but the benefits are pretty good."
"Like what?"
"I can get that bowl of
pretzels over there." I
pointed towards the black plastic bowl at the other end of the bar.
Maggie pointed at them and the bartender brought them down to us.
"See?" I said with mock triumph. Maggie just shook her head.
"Yeah, I see.
I'll be back." She
walked around the bar and into the back room.
She was gone for a few minutes. I
looked around the bar.
The place was a bit more filled than
when I'd been there earlier. At
one end, there was a large group of conference people.
They were laughing in staccato bursts, quiet for awhile and then loud,
raucous laughter. At the other
end, two regulars were drunkenly chasing pool balls around the table.
Four people hunched around the far end of the bar, watching the
baseball game, providing commentary such as "Hit the goddamn ball"
and "You suck". Maggie
came back.
She didn't say much, but sat next to
me, joining me drink for drink. About
fifteen minutes later, the door opened. Maggie
stood up and went around the bar. I
reached for my pack of cigarettes and another hand rested on top of mine. I turned.
"Hello, Jack" Maria said.
She had a light smile on her face, but her eyes were sad.
Sad for me. Maggie took my
glass from me. "Come on.
You need to get some sleep."
I didn't bother arguing.
She took my keys and put me in the passenger seat.
She sat in the driver's seat. I
tried to argue, but she just ignored me.
We drove back in silence. When
I got home, I walked out of the car, over to the side of the building, and
vomited. I never liked the
bushes anyways.
By the time we got inside, I was
feeling slightly better. We sat
down on the couch after I'd rinse my mouth out with hot water.
Maria handed me a mug of tea. We
sat there for a moment, me staring down at the liquid, swirling it absently.
She reached out and wrapped her hands around mine.
I looked up.
"Tell me, Jack.
Tell me what happened."
"I don't know.
I wasn't the person who admitted you."
"Do you know who was?"
"Look, Carl, these are
questions you should ask the doctor, not me."
Laura looked at me, perhaps fear in her eyes.
I was suddenly aware that I was standing a bit close to her.
I backed up a bit.
"I'm sorry.
It's just that I don't remember how I got here.
Isn't it in my files? Can
I just look at it?"
"You know I can't do that.
Again, you should be having the discussion with the docor."
"When will he be in?"
"You're scheduled to meet him
tomorrow."
"How often do I see him?"
"Once a week.
He's been on vacation for the past month, however.
He'll be happy with the progress you've made."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, look at you.
You're walking around and actually communicating with people."
"I don't usually?"
"No, usually you don't even say
two words for weeks at a time."
"I see.
Well, apparently I'll have a lot to say to the doctor."
"Just don't get violent."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, typically, you get
violent. And we wind up having to
sedate you. With the doctor.
Nurses."
"Oh.
I'll try."
Somehow, I had a feeling that by the
next day, I either had to get out the place or I wouldn't ever.
She was waiting for me when I got
back to my room. I looked to make
sure there wasn't anyone else in the room and I closed the door.
She looked up at me and smiled.
"I'm so happy that you finally
know who you are."
"I'm glad you're happy.
How the hell did I get here?"
"First, do you know my
name."
"Of course."
"Then tell me."
"Why?"
"I need to know."
"Maria."
She stood up, walked over to me and
embraced me. The faint smell of
detergent and lilacs gently buffeted me.
She was warm against me and for a moment, I closed my eyes.
"You know."
:"Yeah."
"You know that you need to get
out of here."
"Yes.
Soon."
"I can show you how."
"Great.
But tell me how I got here."
"Not right now."
"Why not?"
"You're not ready."
"What's that supposed to
mean?"
"You're not ready."
"I am ready.
Tell me. "
"You're ready?
Come on, Jack. Think about
it. How can you be ready if you're talking to yourself?"
I opened my eyes and sighed.
She was right. I was
standing in the middle of the room, hugging air, and smelling something.
I put my hands down.
"Now you see what I mean?"
"No.
I don't see at all."
"You will.
But we need to leave."
I was right.
I did need to leave. This
place was driving me insane.
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