Confabulation (11 page)

CHAPTER
30

Simon sat on the porch, looking out on the large field and up at the bright sky. It had been several days since he last lost his senses to the white blindness. Combined with the idyllic setting, that gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced since his days on the swing set as a boy. He remembered flying high up into the air and feeling free and unburdened, the clear sky gave him that feeling again on the warm day.

Still, something ate at him even through his joy. Someone had taken his freedom away, and that someone needed to be stopped. Jackson Gray had offered him the opportunity to help in the destruction of the group responsible, but hadn’t been present for much time since then. After arriving at the safe house, Jackson left.

Hadn’t returned for days. Simon wondered if something had happened to Jackson and if he would have to spend the remainder of his life in this small house outside town. Though the idea wasn’t completely unappealing, it wasn’t what he wanted. Simon wanted revenge.

He walked back into the kitchen and poured himself of tall glass of tea. Standing there, he could see a car pull up to the front of the house. He didn’t recognize the car as Jackson’s, so he positioned himself behind a pillar, close to the back door. From his new vantage point, Simon couldn’t see much of the man—at least the person wore men’s shoes—that approached the house. Simon reached for a knife on the counter with his left hand and the doorknob with his right. As the man reached the porch, Simon heard a key enter the lock.

Simon paused, waiting to see who the person was—after all they had a key to the house. As the door opened, Simon glanced to the back yard and saw that no one had sealed off his exit. He watched the door open, and waited for the man’s face to appear. He peaked around the column to gain a better view, and saw a bushy mustache before any other features.

Simon threw the knife at the door, grabbed another, and ran out the back door. He ran through the yard, and cursed the broad open field that he delighted in earlier. He changed direction often, searching for someplace to hide. To his left, in the distance, he saw a grouping of trees. It was a small bunch, and very far away, but he had few options.

He turned left and headed for the trees. He could hear the man calling his name, but he had no desire to find out what the person wanted. He reasoned that Jackson would have let him know, somehow, if anyone else could be trusted. He looked up and saw that he had made up half the distance to the trees.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his leg, before hearing the loud crack of a rifle. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg, and peered back toward the house. He could see the man coming toward him. Simon started to crawl, but the trees were too far away. He looked back and could see that the man was running toward him now. There would be no escape.

He blacked out.

Simon woke up on the couch. He rubbed the back of his leg where the dart had lodged itself. His head was still groggy, but he stood. Braced himself on the arm of the sofa until he felt steady on his feet. Walked across the living room toward the kitchen. Smelled fresh coffee and poured himself a cup.

On the counter was a note.

Simon,

I’m sorry that I had to take the action I did, but I couldn’t have you running about unattended. Though this is a safe location, I do not think we should risk having you running about town. This may away from the city, but our foes have eyes everywhere.

I’m trying to find another who has been targeted and so I have been and will continue to be away. Please stay here and we shall soon begin our planning. I’ll make myself more obvious when I return. Be careful, and please stay here.

Jackson

Simon’s feelings that arose from the letter piled on top of each other in uneven layers. He was relieved that he hadn’t been found. It had been Jackson that had come in the other day, and not some intruder that had killed Jackson and intended the same fate for Simon. Relief never lasted long, as he soon felt restless about being cooped up in the house. The safety of the house was wonderful, but the prolonged stay made the small house feel more like a prison.

As Simon poured his coffee and stared out the window, his strongest emotion took hold again. He imagined someone crossing the field toward the house. In his fantasy, he pulled a rifle from below sight and trained it on the intruder’s head. He smiled as he imagined the bullet piercing the man’s skull and ending the reign of terror that was forced on Simon.

He longed to find a way to stop the tests. He needed to end the manipulation of himself and the others. "Oh, God. How many more are there?" Simon considered if there were only a few others, then it would be easier to eliminate the threat—only a few villains would be needed to destroy the lives of only a few subjects. Of course, he thought, only a few subjects would make it easier to eliminate the evidence.

Simon slurped down the cooling coffee and headed back to the living room. He tossed the letter back on the end table as he walked by, knowing he would soon pick it up again. He sat on the couch and let out a large sigh. Leaning back, he reached for the remote and attempted to put his mind to sleep again with the idle banter of another set of obviously fake talk show guests.

CHAPTER
31

After some time, an officer came to get Henry from his cell. Told him Kelly had decided against pressing charges and that he could go. He was warned though that she had taken out a restraining order against him and that he wasn’t to contact her either in person or by phone.

He nodded his agreement and left immediately.

He took a taxi to his hotel, and thanked what little luck he had that the rental car had been impounded and he could use his car without waiting for the paperwork to be completed. He drove immediately to a pawnshop that Kelly's firm had represented in several cases of selling guns to people without permits.

The shop owner was every bit as slimy and weasely as he had expected, and Henry spent little time with the man. After convincing the shop owner that he wasn’t an undercover officer, Henry purchased a handgun for a sum that was obviously above the standard market price.

Armed with his new weapon, and a healthy level of fear and loathing, he then drove to the other man's house and waited. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but he knew it would happen in the park at the end of the block. He waited outside for hours. Adrenaline pushed him through the day and night, removing the need for coffee. The first day passed without incident, other than Henry moving his car in the middle of the night to avoid looking suspicious.

The next day, Henry watched the man leave for work. When he emerged from the house, Henry wanted to drive up and kill the man right then, erasing the threat. But he wasn’t sure that this man was the killer, only that they attack would occur near his house. He choked back his desire, and waited patiently until the man drove away.

Certain that the event would occur at the park at night, Henry took the opportunity to go back to the hotel and get some rest. He showered immediately upon arriving at the hotel, and then settled on the bed for a long nap. It lasted until his alarm went off, signaling that it was three o’clock and time to prepare. He dressed quickly and stopped for some soda in the cafe near the hotel. Soon, he was headed to the fated neighborhood.

Henry drove casually through town in the empty highways before rush hour. He pulled into the neighborhood and he could feel his heart start to beat quicker and heavier. He reached down and felt the pistol again, assuring himself of its presence. He pulled around the corner to the street he needed and glared at the park as he drove by.

He arrived at the house.

Slammed on the brakes at the sight of Kelly's car outside.

Threw his car into park, jumped out, and raced to the door.

He couldn't see any movement in the house, and no one answered the calm doorbell ring. He walked along the house, and could see no lights or televisions on, and he heard no sounds.

"If they're not here, then where are they?" He turned and saw both of the cars in the driveway. His eyes widened, and he began running toward the park. He turned on the path and stumbled over someone to the ground.

"Watch where you're going, pal."

Henry looked up and stared into the eyes of the man he knew would kill his wife. "You." Henry stood up pushed his finger into the man's chest. "You bastard, where is she?"

The other man backed up quickly, shaking in the face of Henry's rage. "What are you talking about, dude?"

"Where's my wife? Where's Kelly? Did you just leave her there?"

"What? Kelly?" The man kept walking back. "Are you her husband, Henry?"

"That's right, and your luck's just run out. You though you would get away with it." Henry shoved him to the ground. "Well think again."

"Look, man. I don't know what you're talking about. Kelly's right over there. I was just going to get us some water."

Henry looked up and into the direction he pointed. "Show me."

The man stood up and walked into the park. "My name's Erik, by the way."

"I don't really care, Erik!"

Henry followed Erik into the woods, and around a bend. Ahead, about twenty feet, Kelly sat on a bench. "Kelly, you're okay," Henry called out.

"Henry? You know you're not supposed to talk to me."

"I know, Kelly. But you have to get away from here. Trust me." He walked closer to her.

"Not this again, Henry? You need help."

"I don't need help, Kelly. I just need you to come with me."

Henry fell to the ground, and held his right eye. He hadn't seen Erik coming around, and wasn't prepared for the hit. His head hit the sidewalk, and he could feel the warmth of blood in his hair. "You little piece of crap." Henry stood up and brushed himself off. Erik lunged for him again, but Henry stepped back and pulled his gun. "Now whatcha gonna do, tough guy?"

Erik and Kelly backed away from Henry. Kelly started crying.

"Don't cry, sweetie. I'm just trying to protect you from this guy. He's gonna kill you."

"Please, Henry, put the gun down. I'm begging you."

"I can't, Kelly. Not until I know you're safe." Henry raised the gun and aimed it at Erik's head. "This is for you, honey."

Erik charge and lowered his shoulder into Henry's chest. He reached for his gun, and pushed Erik off of him. As Erik lay on the ground, Henry again aimed the gun at the assumed assassin. "This has to be done." He stared down his arms at the frightened man and tightened his grip. He wanted to pull the trigger, but his mind became cloudy.

"What the hell?"

He shook his head and squinted at Erik. Flashes of light consumed his vision.

His head was filled with a single word.

“Don’t”

“Don’t tell me what to do." The flashes obscured everything. “This isn’t fair!" Tears streamed down his face. "Kelly, run. I can’t stop him, and I’m sorry, but you have to run."

"Henry, what are you talking about? Are you okay?"

"I’m fine, but you have to go." He felt her hand on his shoulder and knew she wouldn’t leave. She couldn’t know what Erik was up to. He’d never been able to explain it all. He fell to his knees and tried to peer through the blinding light, but he saw nothing. He pointed his gun up, but he knew that he couldn’t hope to find his target again. "Kelly, forgive me. Please forgive me."

"Henry, what are you talking about? Calm down, we’ll get some help."

Another word filled his mind.

“Run”

Henry stood and could see his vision clearing. He ran for the edge of the park and toward his car, his vision clearing with every step. Henry knew Erik needed to be eliminated. Knew his wife was in danger. But he had to get away. Regroup and figure out what to do.

As he neared the edge of the park, he looked back at Erik and Kelly.

“Don’t”

He jumped in his car, blew a kiss to Kelly in his mirror, and drove away. "I’ll be back, Erik. It may not have been today, but trust me, you will never hurt her."

CHAPTER
3
2

Henry turned into the parking lot of the hotel and glanced in his rearview mirror. He exhaled and squinted at the image and drove out of the parking lot and back toward the highway. He had spotted the van following him from the park and had taken a roundabout trip back to the hotel. As he arrived, he thought he saw the van again, and when he saw the driver in his mirror, he knew it was the same.

He had no idea how long the van had been watching him. They obviously knew where he was staying and had found him at the park. He noticed that they were now following him much more attentively. Probably because they no longer knew where he was going—neither did he. Making sure that he was right, he exited often and returned to the highway. After a few such maneuvers, the van turned away.

He continued down the road, watching every car, truck, and van that seemed to follow him. After an hour, he was well outside the city, and there were few other cars on the road. He continued out of town, exiting and turning onto small country roads whenever he could. With each mile, he head cleared, and though the lack of sleep left him exhausted, he felt better than he had in weeks.

He turned the radio up and sang along as he drove between towns. He hadn’t felt like singing, something he used to use to pass the time on his way to work, since the broken memories began. He reveled in the return of such a simple pleasure.

As he reached the next small town, he could feel his stomach growling and decided to enjoy a sinful, but delicious breakfast. He pulled off the highway, and drove until he found a small diner. Once inside, he ordered a breakfast platter that included eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit compote. The plate was huge.

Henry enjoyed every bite.

Half way through the meal, he thought about Kelly. He surprised himself by his lack of desire to run after her. Henry began to examine what had been happening. Had he really followed Kelly to work and out shopping? Had he tried to keep her locked up in the house with him rather than living her life?

He took another bite, but struggled to swallow it. Had he really held a gun on a man because some voice in his head claimed it could tell that his wife would be killed? He tried to remember his job and finally realized how long he had long he had been away from the office, or his counseling.

Counseling?

He needed counseling?

The memories seemed to fade. His certainty of what he knew dimmed. He couldn’t place the conversations or information. Couldn’t even remember the threat. Why was he so sure it would happen in the park? Why that day? None of it seemed real.

Was Kelly in any danger? He wasn’t sure.

He finished his meal, and left a large tip on the table. Returned to his car, and started to head back to the city. Looked for cars that might be following him again. After a few miles, he exited. He seemed to be able to think more clearly out there. But he still needed to be sure of what was happening.

Henry drove back toward town, still wary of possible followers. He checked his mirrors and exited often, only to return to the highway. For half an hour, he followed a circuitous route back to town, getting only ten miles closer to his destination. As he continued, he questioned what he would do if he were being followed again. Didn’t matter.

He couldn’t stay away.

His life was with Kelly, and he had to get that life back.

Couldn’t run forever.

He merged back onto the interstate and decided to get back to town directly. Deal with the ramifications if and when they arose. To pass the time, he turned the stereo up and sang along with the myriad eighties tunes that were offered. It was a pleasant drive, and Henry was again reminded of the simple pleasures that had been absent from his life.

Several more miles down the road, he could see the number of lanes increase ahead of him. He knew that greater traffic and more people would soon be upon him. That carried the threat of being found. More cars gathered around him, and the towers of the city seemed to hang over him. He imagined that the cars in the opposite direction were offering either evil grins or somber frowns as they saw him return to the threat.

He tried to keep him mind on Kelly. He needed to remember why he was putting himself through this. He needed to know there was a reason.

Time passed and he continued to devour territory, moving closer to his familiar areas of the city. He passed through the northern part of town, with its office buildings, and multilevel highways. He could no longer discern if he was being followed as the number of cars swerving in and out of traffic had surpassed what he could keep track of. He saw nothing that looked like the van he had seen before, so he continued, trying to convince himself that all was well.

His forearms tired from the pressure he was placing on the steering wheel. He dared not release his grasp though, as the sweat from his palms made his grip tenuous. He continued down the highway, and saw the sign indicating he was about to pass into the neighborhood where he’d left Kelly.

He kept focused on the sign. The approach was ominous. He stared at the sign, imagining it as a gate he dared not cross. A portal back to the nightmare he could hardly believe happened. His trance was broken only by the blaring honks of the cars that flew past him.

He looked down and noticed that he had almost come to a complete stop as he approached the sign. He tried to accelerate, but he found that his foot didn’t wish to comply. Angry, he shoved his foot to the floor of the car and closed his eyes as he broke through the imagined barrier.

The park looked green and peaceful. The trees were full and green, and wildflowers populated the small rolling hills. People sat on blankets and children romped along the fields playing tag and football. It was a peaceful scene that anyone would have enjoyed receiving on a postcard.

It was nothing like the scene Henry remembered. That park was dark, full of enemies and eyes, and holding nothing but danger. He could remember the dry, brown grass, and the multitude of shadows. Looking at the park now, he wondered which of his memories were real.

He walked back to his car, enjoying the bright sun and the happy people. He knew he needed to leave before his luck of not running into that man, Erik he thought he remembered as his name, ran out. He revved the engine and headed for his office.

Along the way, he pulled off the highway again, and into the drive through of a burger joint he hadn’t heard of before, though the décor labeled it a chain rather than a local eatery. While waiting he considered his next move. He reasoned that those who were following him knew where he worked, lived, and had been staying. He wasn’t sure where he could go, but he knew for certain where he could not.

He paid for his drink and continued to drive around without destination. He drove to the less populated areas of town during rush hour and through the main city during the off hours. He stopped several times for fuel, and always resumed his aimless journey. Hours passed and he could feel sleep tugging at his eyelids. He needed to sleep, but he didn’t know where to go.

After several hours of sleep filled driving and speed bump alarms, he decided to stop at a roadside motel. The rates were reasonable, and he was comforted by the lack of bulletproof glass in front of the clerk. He lumbered into his room, and fell onto the bed. He made no effort to change his clothes for bed, or to pull the blanket down. He intended to take care of such matters soon, but soon was replaced by next morning.

That following morning, morning by only a few minutes, Henry woke rested but disoriented. He looked around the room and struggled to recall the events that led him there. Exhaustion and periodic sleep had stolen the details of the late night and early morning, but he quickly spotted the shower and dragged himself from the bed.

On his way to the shower, he stopped, unable to process what he saw. He had been in the hotel for only a few hours, but his presence had clearly been found. Furthermore, someone had been with him while he slept. Someone had the opportunity to either eliminate him or abduct him but had chosen not to.

He bent over, picked up the note. Just a phone number.

He grabbed his phone and started to dial.

Stopped.

Remembering where he was headed, he tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the shower. Oddly, the knowledge that he had been found was liberating to Henry. His location was no longer a secret, and yet he still wasn’t consumed with fear. And he hadn’t been captured or harmed in any way. He waited for the water to get hot, and he basked under the heated stream for half an hour.

He stepped out and laughed at the glowing red of his chest. After drying off, and slowly putting on the dirty clothes, he turned his attention back to the phone.

He sat back on the bed and tapped at the cover. He picked it up, and placed back on the bed several times. "Who are you?" He picked up the phone and pressed the power button again. He stared at the screen for a couple of moments, and then called.

"Hello, Henry."

Henry hesitated at the sound of the voice on the other end.

"Are you there, Henry?"

"Yes, I’m here. Who are you?"

"I just want to help."

"How can you help?"

"I can help you stop the people who were torturing you. They need to be stopped, and together we can do it."

Thoughts of revenge swept through Henry’s mind, but quickly dissipated under the pressure of what really concerned him. "How did you find me?"

"Sadly, it wasn’t that difficult. The people who put those thoughts in your head will find you as well. I don’t know when, but they will."

Henry’s heart jumped.

The desire to run came storming back.

His heart pumped faster and harder.

His hands began to sweat and he could taste the pending adrenaline rush.

"Henry, are you still there?"

Henry snapped back to attention, but he still wanted to run. He pressed the desire down, but he could feel his body aching to flee. "Yes, I’m still here."

"Henry, I can help you."

"Not yet. I need to think about it."

He ended the call and ran out the door to his car. He hopped in, started the car, and squealed out of the parking lot. As he pulled onto the highway, he thought that he should have checked the tires before driving. He knew that the man on the phone could easily find him, but he wasn’t ready to trust someone yet. He headed down the highway, and exited at the familiar spot. "I have to know that you’re okay, Kelly. Safety be damned, I have to know."