Fall of Hades (4 page)

Dominic continued to rant. “I'll report you to the police. You have no right to hold me against my will.”

“That's where you're wrong,” the head guard said. “We have every right to hold you. And prosecute you.”

“You'll pay for this. I'll make you—”

At that moment Welch belted him across the face, knocking him out. The man dropped to the ground. Welch looked anxiously up at the guards. “Sorry. I hate whiners.”

A broad smile crossed the head guard's face. “Nice punch.”

The other guards nodded in agreement. “Well done.”

“You think I'll get in trouble?” Welch asked.

“Nope,” the head guard said. “We saw exactly what happened. Dominic threw a brick through the window. When you tried to stop him, he assaulted you. It was self-defense.”

“That's what we saw,” one of the other guards said.

The head guard nodded. “We'll erase that part of the security tape, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Welch said.

A police car pulled up to the curb and two officers got out. They walked up, looking at the unconscious man on the ground. Finally one of the officers asked, “Is that the guy?”

“That's the loser we caught vandalizing the building,” the head guard said. “He threw a brick through the window.”

The officers looked over at the building. “That hole?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is he unconscious?”

“The pizza guy tried to stop him and the man attacked him. It was self-defense.”

The officer looked at Welch, then at the man on the ground, then back at Welch. “He attacked this guy? He's half his size.”

“He was out of control,” the head guard said. “He was trying to get away.”

“If you're willing to testify, we'll book him for assault as well,” the cop said.

“Of course we will.”

One of the officers squatted down and shook the man. Dominic groaned.

“Sir, please roll onto your stomach. We're going to handcuff you.”

Dominic was still too dazed to offer any resistance. The police officers handcuffed him. “Can you stand?”

“I—I don't know,” he stuttered.

The officers lifted him up, then walked him to the squad car, placing him in the backseat.

After the police car drove away, the head guard turned to Welch. “I'm starving. You brought some pizzas?”

Welch nodded. “Yes, sir. Let me get them.” He ran back over to where he'd dropped his boxes and retrieved them. “Sorry, they're probably not going to be hot after all that.”

“How much do we owe you?”

“Thirty-nine dollars.”

The head guard handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you.”

He put out his hand. “My name is Patrick.”

“David,” Welch said.

The guard lifted the lid of the box. “You like this stuff?”

“The Monster Meat Lover?”

Patrick laughed. “No. Delivering your . . . meat lovers whatever.”

“It's a job. I'm working my way through college.”

“What are you studying?”

“Criminal science.”

“With your build, you could play football.”

“I did. Lost interest.”

“What's your last name?”

“Welch. Like the jam.”

Patrick smiled. “All right, Welch-like-the-jam. Looks like you can handle yourself in a jam. Do you want a real job?”

“Doing what?”

“Security detail here. You can work at night, go to school in the day. I guarantee it will pay a lot better than delivering pizzas.”

“I meet girls delivering pizza,” Welch said.

Patrick laughed. “But do you impress them?”

Welch didn't answer.

“You'll impress girls working here. Not that every girl doesn't want a . . . pizza delivery boy.”

“Now you're mocking me.”

“Am I right?”

“I can see how that would be true,” Welch said.

“Good. Do you have class tomorrow?”

“Until three.”

“Come at four; I'll take you in to HR and get you hired.”

“Wait. What does it pay?”

“The position starts at fifty K a year. With benefits. Insurance. Christmas bonus and paid vacation after six months.”

Welch had never even made half that. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. The stars aligned tonight. I've got a feeling you're supposed to be here.”

W
elch's childhood had been less than idyllic. His biological parents were drug addicts, and he had lived in and out of foster homes before, at the age of seven, he was permanently adopted by a family.

The adoption didn't go well. Welch was rebellious and had a violent temper. Part of his problem was that he had always been larger than the other children his age and subsequently hung out with older kids. He was with teenagers four years older than him when they were caught stealing a car from a Walmart parking lot.

After his arrest, his adopted family “un-adopted” him, and Welch was sent to juvenile detention for eight months. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.

One of the police officers at the facility, a rugged former Golden Gloves boxer, took an interest in Welch and became his mentor. That relationship changed everything. Welch stopped acting out and got serious about school, where he learned, for the first time, he was not dumb like many had told him, but rather he had an above-average intelligence. He was also a gifted athlete. Much to his previous foster families' surprise, Welch not only graduated from high school, but did so with a 3.98 grade point average and an academic and sports scholarship.

That summer, Welch was in his third year of studying criminal science. His scholarship only covered tuition and books, so he got a job delivering pizzas. He'd worked for the pizzeria just three months before the evening when he subdued the vandal at the Elgen building.

*  *  *

Patrick, the Elgen's head security guard, had been accused of hiring his guards by the pound, and Welch was no exception. But it soon became clear to him that Welch was more than muscle; he was a quick learner and ambitious, and within just six months he was promoted to head of the graveyard shift.

Welch liked the work and the pay but found it a little lonely. He would patrol the dark, quiet halls of the Elgen building at night, sometimes hoping someone would break in just to liven things up. Oftentimes he would look in through the glass windows of the fifth-floor laboratory and watch the scientists at work, wondering what they were doing. He didn't know them, at least not personally, but he knew the pecking order.

The main scientist was a man known as Dr. Coonradt. It seemed to Welch that Coonradt had no life outside of his work, as he was always there. Many times it was only the two of them in the building.

One night Coonradt called Welch over to the laboratory.

“Yes, sir?” Welch asked, wondering what the scientist wanted.

“Come in for a moment, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Welch stepped into the laboratory.

“What's your name?” Coonradt asked.

“Welch, sir.”

Coonradt smiled. “I can read your name tag. What's your first name?”

“David.”

“Well, David, have a drink with me.”

“Thank you, sir, but I can't. I'm on the job.”

Coonradt still poured two crystal glasses half full from a bottle of champagne. “I'm giving you permission. A sip of Dom Pérignon won't jeopardize our security. It's a special occasion. I'm celebrating a breakthrough.” He extended the drink to Welch.

Welch just looked at the glass. “I'm really sorry, but I don't drink alcohol.”

Coonradt looked at him in surprise. “A teetotaler, that's refreshing.” He set down the glass, walked over to a refrigerator, and brought back a bottle. “Then have a Coke.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Both men sat down.

“Why don't you drink? You a Mormon?”

“No, sir. My biological father was an alcoholic. I figured I inherited his genes.”

“You're a smart man,” Coonradt said. He took a drink.

“What kind of breakthrough are we celebrating?” Welch asked.

“A big one. It has to do with a variation of the standard magnetic vector created when a polyatomic ion is covalently bonded—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Welch said, raising a hand. “You lost me way before polyatomic zions, or whatever you said.”

Coonradt laughed. “Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.”

Welch took a swig from his cola. “You're always here.”

“It would seem that way. My work is my life. It's my wife, my family, my religion.” His voice fell a little. “It's the only thing I have left.” Welch thought he saw a flash of pain in the scientist's eyes. Coonradt sipped his champagne, then put his glass down. “What about you? Do you have anyone you can't live without?”

“I had a girlfriend for a while, but we broke up about six months ago.”

“Was it mutual?”

“No. She dumped me for a med student.”

“I'm sorry. Are you pining for her?”

“Pining?”

“Sorry, it's an old-fashioned word. Do you miss her?”

“Yes, sir.”

Coonradt lifted his glass again. “Then we'll toast lost loves.”

Welch lifted his drink. “To lost loves,” he said as they clinked the glasses together.

Welch drank, then looked at the scientist. “Do you have lost loves?”

Coonradt looked down for a moment, finished his drink, then lifted the one he'd poured for Welch and took a drink from it as well. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft.

“Yes. Two loves. My mother when I was fourteen, my wife eleven years ago. I lost both of them to cancer. Technically, I lost three, I guess. My wife was three months pregnant when she died. I lost my child, too.”

“I'm sorry.”

Coonradt took another drink. “Me too.”

“Did you ever consider marrying again?”

“No. Not seriously. I suppose that I feel cursed. I couldn't bear another loss. But life has a way of figuring itself out. It's why I'm where I am right now. I decided to dedicate my life to revenge.”

“Revenge? On who?”

“On cancer. It's a living organism, and I am going to kill it, just as it killed my loved ones. Turnabout is fair play, right?” He took another drink.

Welch looked at him with admiration. “Yes, sir. I think that's pretty awesome.”

“Thank you. And if I succeed, I will save millions of lives and make the Elgen Corporation billions upon billions of dollars.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I better get back to work and let you get back to yours. Thank you for celebrating with me.”

Welch quickly stood, taking the comment as his dismissal. “Thank you, sir. For the drink and the talk. Congratulations on your breakthrough. Maybe someday you'll win a Nobel Prize.”

Coonradt smiled. “That would be nice. Not so much for the prize, but because it would mean that I had accomplished something.” He stood. “And it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Welch. I wish you a long future and much success at Elgen Incorporated.”

C
oonradt's breakthrough in magnetism didn't cure cancer or win a Nobel Prize, even though he was nominated for one. It did make the Elgen Corporation hundreds of millions of dollars.

During the apex of their growth, the Elgen's CEO, a man named Briton Hill, died unexpectedly, and the board immediately set to work searching for a new leader. They ended up hiring away the CEO of an upstart pharmaceutical company, an ambitious young MIT graduate named Charles James Hatch.

Eight months previous to the change in leadership, Welch's boss, Patrick, had retired and Welch became the acting head of Elgen security.

Welch never forgot the first day he met Hatch. He was called into the new Elgen CEO's office for an introduction.

“Come in. Sit down,” Hatch said forcefully.