Confabulation (20 page)

CHAPTER
5
4

Crap. That was the one word that repeated itself in Carolyn’s head as the meeting continued to progress in ways she couldn’t have imagined, and didn’t desire. Every move since that morning seemed to have been the wrong one. She knew there would be nothing good to come from the day, and she felt that she should have been more diligent in her insistence that she be allowed to sleep until she wasted away.

Her sleepless night turned into an exhausted morning. She was miserable and afraid, but she felt that the bed was the safest place in the world for her. The first tear in that cocoon came when Susan informed her it was time to go. Carolyn remembered Susan’s response to her request to remain in bed. Susan told her, with her voice and her hands, that the time for hesitation was behind them.

She wished she’d been more forceful. But she knew that Susan was her only hope to be free and that this was the only way Susan saw to take the people down who violated her. Carolyn glanced at the room that surrounded them and felt her muscles tighten with the thought that she had agreed to this meeting. She continued to examine the room and saw the box in the center of the room.

It held some kind of device. She wondered what that was. If it made them stronger, she wanted it destroyed. She wanted something destroyed. Something or someone needed to pay. She wandered if her anger was her own. If she was being manipulated. No, she’d been angry forever, it seemed.

Carolyn looked down. Saw the gun in her hand. She wondered how it got there. She teied to remember taking it, but it was useless. She’d wanted it, sure, but someone else made her take it. They were still in control. She wanted to shoot. Shoot the man across the way. Shoot the box. Hell, shoot Susan. She wanted to destroy everything, but she could tell Susan didn’t want that. Susan was in control, or at least felt she was. Carolyn handed the pistol back to Susan as they stepped back

Carolyn glanced up and saw the face of the new man. His face beamed and his eyes focused on the box in the center of the room. His desire was obvious. He moved toward it.

She looked to Susan again. She searched those eyes for reassurance, but found only scorn and confusion. She continued to hunt for the salvation that Susan had offered, but her heart sank with every second lost in Susan’s unforgiving glare. Her shoulders slumped and she allowed her eyes to fall to the floor as her neck lost the strength to hold up her head.

Carolyn inhaled and sighed and then rolled her head around her shoulder to see the room again. As she panned the room, she stopped at the image of a sweaty man stepping around the one who introduced himself as Jackson. It was another event that Carolyn was unprepared for, and before examining him closely, Carolyn took his presence as a bad sign. A careful inspection of the man did nothing to relieve that concern.

He wore a jacket, which seemed strange considering that the lack of ventilation in the building amplifying the heat outside. Carolyn looked at his face and saw that his eyes darted about the room, briefly examining each person before skipping to the next, only to return seconds later. Sweat poured from his forehead. Carolyn could see that there was more perspiration than could be accounted for by the jacket.

The man was clearly scared. He couldn’t remain still, and his hands inside his jacket presented a very guarded posture. She ignored the box and her opponent vying for possession and focused only on the strangest of the strangers. She watched him step in front of Jackson, still holding his hands in his jacket. He moved forward, toward the box, but his eyes remained on the three others in the room—including Carolyn.

He stared at her, and she could feel that he had seen her before. She struggled to remember his face, but she couldn’t recall ever having met this man. His eyes narrowed, and she felt she should apologize for whatever this man thought she had done, though she could think of nothing. She watched as he cast the same glare at the man who entered late and hadn’t spoken. Carolyn couldn’t recall meeting him either, though they seemed to share the wrath of this man.

Soon, the sweaty mad man was standing only a few feet from each of them. Carolyn looked back for assurance, but noticed Susan had retreated to the entrance. She wasn’t sure if Susan had retreated to set up her plan, or if she had abandoned her.

She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t care. She returned her focus to the jacketed man and tried to show her compassion. She stepped back as her soft stare apparently angered the man. He closed his eyes before screaming.

"Who do you think you are? What gives you the right?"

Carolyn stared at the man. Her curiosity was a strong as her fear. "What do you mean?" She was surprised to find her voice clear and strong.

"Don’t play dumb with me, bitch. Maybe you don’t recognize me, but your little plan has ruined my life. Now, I’m gonna ruin yours."

"I’m sorry. I just don’t know what you’re talking about." She looked over at the other man who drew the anger, but he seemed to not be effected by the situation. Carolyn shook her head in amazement at the man’s confidence before turning her head back to the mad man. She opened her mouth in a silent scream when she saw what he intended.

"You just can’t go around screwing with people’s lives. This has to end."

CHAPTER
5
5

The old stairs creaked under the strain of his considerable weight as Danton continued his slow assent. The building had been prepped by the company, which mean that he wouldn’t be able to do anything unless he was in there with them. He had no choice but to resort to following Henry Adamson on foot. As he climbed the steps, he thanked his parents for gifting him with a strong enough stomach to keep his recent meal inside despite the urgings of the smells and sights around him.

He never had much respect for Jackson Gray, and what little he had was lost when he discovered the traitorous plot. However, he hadn’t hated the man until he was forced to arrive at this most foul locale.

He continued up the stairs, examining the steps and the floors of the landings. He passed the third floor landing, noticing no revealing marks other than footprints stamped in the copious amounts of rat shit. He passed the floor and continued. He thought of the human condition that could lead to the use of this building as a public toilet for the homeless.

If only more men would listen to him, he thought, this type of condition could be eliminated. Danton had always believed that the homeless problem was due to a combination of laziness on behalf of the homeless and stupid laws that prevented more businesses from putting the people to work at wages they would be willing to accept.

When he first learned how to control the thoughts of others, he dreamed of the day he could eliminate the laziness that plagued humanity. He’d never gotten around to that, thought. As far as the laws, he had other ideas about how to correct that error.

He rounded the stairs and stood at the landing for the fourth floor. There he looked down and saw an arc through the filth. He grabbed the door handle and pulled the door, watching as it carved the same path along the ground. With a grin, he pulled the door completely open, and stepped into the hall. He enjoyed the wider space that the hall offered, more for the larger amount of air to disperse the stench than anything else. He stepped down the hall with surprising stealth for a man of his size, and moved carefully toward a faint sound in the distance.

He continued to traverse the long corridor, eyeing the large doors at the end of the hall, while also looking for someplace to hide while he listened. He was almost to the doors when he noticed a small alcove where he could conceal himself in the shadows. After waving his pistol in the dark space, he decided it would make an effective hiding place that would still allow him to see what was important. He could hear movement beyond the door, but no conversation. He positioned himself in the alcove, aimed his microphone toward the door, and placed the small speaker in his ear.

He could hear shuffling and some mumbling, but nothing else. A few seconds passed and he heard a man, obviously angry, demand to know what right some of the others had to interfere with his life. Knowing that only Jackson was involved in the project, he wondered who the man could have been talking to. After a few moments, he realized that the man must be Simon Klein. He was obviously one of the victims. Henry wouldn’t be acting that way, and he couldn’t imagine that voice going with Carolyn Hansford.

The argument continued, with a woman trying to calm the irate man. Danton had to know what was happening. He stepped from the alcove, and returned the microphone to a holster on his belt. He pulled his weapon again, and stepped toward the door. Closer to the door, he could see that it was slightly open, and he could peer in without indicating his presence.

With his eye as near the opening as he could safely risk, he saw Henry standing near the door. He looked calm and confident, the stupid confidence that comes with ignorance. He watched Henry stare alternately at Simon and the ground. Danton followed his glance down, and saw a box near Simon. He could see devices protruding from the top. Figured it was part of some plan Jackson had cooked up.

He could also see glimpses of the woman standing to Henry’s left. She pleaded with Simon to listen to reason but he didn’t respond. As he heard her voice repeat, he knew that he had heard that voice before. It was no one he knew, but the voice was familiar. She seemed scared, though her voice was steady.

Finally, he turned his attention to the aggressor, Simon Klein. Danton mouthed a silent expletive at the sight of the sweaty man standing over the box. His eyes shifted between Henry and the girl. Moisture flowed down onto the unseasonable jacket. He seemed unwilling to remove the sweat, preferring to keep his hands in his jacket. Danton stepped away from the door when he looked at that jacket. He cursed the continued stupidity that the confidence had bestowed upon Henry. Anyone should have been able to see what was happening. He looked into the room again, but couldn’t see Jackson.

Danton decided that the coward must have loosed his attack dog to cause a tragedy involving Henry and Simon. Wait, he thought. He could place the voice. It was Carolyn Hansford. Jackson intended to kill them all. In one step he would destroy the program, and remove all the loose ends. He must have done the same to all the men Danton gave him. He was starting over.

Danton couldn’t allow that. He raised his weapon and prepared to enter. He took a deep breath and peered in one last time to survey the room before he entered. His eyes widened when he turned. He was too late.

CHAPTER 56
 

The pistol shook in his pocket despite the tight grip. Through the sweat in his eyes, Simon focused on the two devils that had robbed him of his life and freedom. He wouldn’t allow them to go unpunished. He knew that the law would never serve justice, and he had no intention of allowing the system to prove him wrong.

This moment had been his only focus every day he could remember. Their faces were burned into his mind as clearly as the image of the white blindness they afflicted him with. He dreamed of revenge both in his sleep and while awake. Each moment, he considered what he would do, and how he would gain a small piece of satisfaction from them. He would have his ounce of flesh.

That morning, when Jackson told him it was time to go, he knew his wait was at an end. Though he hadn’t shared his plan with Jackson, everything proceeded as if they were in concert. He worried that Jackson would stop him if he knew what he planned, after all Jackson only intended to acquire the devices and evidence, not eliminate the perpetrators.

When it was time to go, Simon placed his pistol in a jacket pocket to hide it from Jackson. He was aware that the jacket might seem odd considering the warm weather, but he had to conceal the weapon until he was ready. He rushed past Jackson to the car, and huddled in his seat, waiting for his opportunity.

The drive seemed to occupy no time as Simon thought only of his ensuing triumph. He would make them pay for what they did. He would make sure others learned they couldn’t treat innocent people like lab rats. The car stopped and Simon followed Jackson up some stairs and into a large room. Once there he moved into a convenient shadowed corner and waited for the devils to arrive.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, Simon heard others enter the room. Jackson spoke to them about something, but Simon didn’t hear a man’s voice. He tried to calm his dreams of revenge. However, he could hear nothing but Jackson dealing with some woman.

Simon squeezed the pistol, eager to know that both of his enemies were present. He was ready for justice. His nerves moved closer to the edge, so he allowed himself to imagine again the scenario of his revenge. He closed his eyes and conjured the images of the dead villains.

He knew what he wanted, and the time for dreaming was done. He opened his eyes and listened for the negotiations. He heard nothing. What had he missed? He peaked out of the shadows and saw Jackson moving away from the center of the room. Across the way he could see a woman, but not her face. Simon stepped out of the shadows and kept his eyes on the woman. She looked scared. He needed to know who she was. He stepped around Jackson and stood across from the woman. She looked up.

Her.

Simon clinched his hand around the gun and counted himself fortunate for not holding the trigger. His time was at hand, but he needed them both. His success hinged on surprise, and he knew he would only get one chance. He could do nothing until they were both there. He started to look back to Jackson, but as his head turned around he was granted his wish. The devil man stepped into the room, strutting like a prize cock. Simon watched the man move about the room, trying to get around his flank, but Simon stepped between the two of them, cutting off their movements.

As soon as he stepped forward, they began trying to confuse him again. The woman acted as if she didn’t know who he was. Whether true or not, it was insulting. If she did know him, she must think him an idiot to give up the one time he held the power. If she truly didn’t know him, he couldn’t accept that level of arrogance. The idea that they could have ruined his life without even knowing who he was made him sick to his already tossing stomach.

He told her to be silent. Her words did nothing but make him angry, but she wouldn’t be silent. He looked to the man. He was watching something. Simon looked down. He saw a box at his feet. He couldn’t remember that box being placed there, but he stood right above it. Why was he trying to get to the box? What was in there? Simon examined the contents.

"Bastard," Simon thought. "Those things. They must be the weapons. He wants to get me again. I can’t let that happen." Simon pulled the pistol from his jacket and aimed it at the man.

"That’s far enough." He gripped the sweat-coated handle with both hands. The pistol shook despite his tight grip. He stared down the wavering barrel at the devil man, incredulous that he continued to move toward him.

Simon glanced to the woman. "Tell him to stop."

"I don’t even know him."

"More lies! Tell him to stop or I’ll shoot you both." He could see that she was scared. Simon stared into her eyes, drawing out the fear. "Do it!"

She turned to the man "Please stop. He’ll shoot, I can feel it."

Simon watched as the man looked up from the box and toward the woman. Simon’s grip threatened to squeeze the pistol from his hands as he watched the man grin and wink. Simon looked back to the woman. "I’m not joking. Wait. What the hell is that?"

Behind the woman, another came from the shadows.

“No!" He fired the pistol at the woman in the rear.