Jezebel's Ladder (2 page)

Jezebel had an amazing dream. She was performing again, with
hundreds of people watching her. Coming from backstage, she felt waves of
support and a sense of belonging she hadn’t experienced since her father died.

She wanted to stay in that
wonderful place, but sunlight battered its way in. Jez woke in clean clothes, on
starched-white sheets, with a headache that would have brought an elephant to
its knees. Grabbing her temples, she moaned, “Shoot me now.”

 “Not only would that be
ungentlemanly, but it would probably make all the tabloids,” confided a man
with suave voice from his chair across the room.

She was in a private hospital room
of some kind. She instinctively pulled the sheets up to her chin. Her hair was
a rat’s nest and still caked with fragrant organic material from the night
before. After she patted her chest, she exclaimed, “My butterfly pendant!”

The attractive, thirtyish man deactivated
and pocketed his smart phone. “Relax,” he coaxed. “It’s standard procedure for the
nurses to take your clothes and accessories. You’re officially checked-in to a
drug and alcohol rehabilitation spa in the Hollywood hills. You'll get your
personal possessions back when you leave.”

“I can’t afford…”

The man held up a
perfectly-manicured hand. “It’ll be on our dime. Oobie was indiscreet on
several levels.”

His voice triggered a memory. Jez
pointed. “You’re that guy, Benny Wholesome, I mean Hollis! You were in all
those buddy pictures. I loved when you played that high-school kid who could
get away with anything.” She could still see the boy inside, with a little more
weight and polish. Then, she stopped the gushing, embarrassed by her fan-girl
outburst. The smooth character-actor had been in twenty-three pictures before
suddenly disappearing from the spotlight.

As he stood, she noticed that his
legs were more firmly muscled than most people who wore suits for a living.
Benny walked over and examined her pupils with a pen light. When they responded
normally, he smiled. “Beautiful. No apparent damage. In here, please refer to
me as ‘Uncle Buddy.’ I’m a dozen years older than you, so the staff will
believe it.” She revised her estimate of his age upward, but the years had been
kind to him. “You seem coherent. Have there been any ill effects from your
ordeal?”

She wrinkled a lip. “I need to
shower for a few hours and find a new place to live, if that’s what you mean.
Then, I’d like some answers.” She remembered reading the golden document. The
sensation had been familiar. “What’s this Collective Unconscious thing the
paper mentioned?”

“Human beings are connected on a
deeper level than most of us realize,” Benny began. “Some of our more religious
members call it the Community of Saints, but I think being human is the only
real requirement.” When she looked puzzled, he said, “Allow me to demonstrate.”

The actor’s warm hand took
Jezebel’s with surprising gentleness. The moment his thumb caressed the palm of
her hand, she felt the sea of belonging supporting her again. “Oh.”

Benny released her hand, but the
pleasant tingle remained. “You’ll develop your own definition and sensitivity.
More important is the responsibility it places on us to help our fellow humans.”

“Why did I pass out?” Jez said,
mellowed by the touch. Even his voice was soothing.

“First, you have to dry out,” Benny
said. “The doctors are going to poke and prod you a lot, and ask a lot of silly
questions. Cooperate and my employer will give you a fifty-thousand dollar
bonus at the end of two weeks, with the possibility of an employment offer.
Once you work for us, I can answer any question you like.”

Jez laughed. “What’s the catch?”

The former star’s winning smile
dropped as he stood up. “Oobie didn’t know about our failures with this
page
.”
From his emphasis, she knew he was discussing the strange golden document. He
turned away in shame, unable to face her. “You’re the first woman who ever read
it that didn’t either go stark, raving mad or die outright. The EMTs monitored
you the whole way here.”

The revelation shocked her into
momentary silence. He walked to the door before she could react. Before he
left, Benny said, “Even if you don’t take the job, see the rehab program
through as a personal favor to me. I’ve seen too many good people end up dead
in the gutter.”

****

Jezebel showered, ate, and went
through the motions of living while doctors bombarded her with tests and more
questions than the IRS and college-entrance paperwork combined. Early on the
third morning, just after she woke, she had a visitor.

Daniel wheeled in, carrying her
breakfast tray. He was wearing the same band t-shirt as before, unwashed. Guilt
shrouded him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’ll leave if you’re mad.”

Jez waved him in. The page might’ve
killed her and had given her persistent headaches; nevertheless, she couldn’t
stay mad at the kid. Daniel’s sad eyes reminded her of the puppy her family had
owned after it’d been caught with a shredded slipper in its mouth. As she put
her blonde hair up in a ponytail, she said, “You saved me from becoming a
murder victim, or worse, and put me in a five-star hotel. I can’t be too
pissed.”

He handed over the food on a beige
tray. In addition to the bland eggs, apple juice, and English muffin, Daniel
had smuggled in a bag containing two chocolate Pop-Tarts. She ripped open the
foil bag. After days of nutrient paste, the sugary pastries smelled divine, and
she started wolfing them down.

“I didn’t mean to risk your life,”
he said.

“I know,” she said between bites.

“We think we know what makes you
special.” Daniel fumbled his words. “I mean phys…physiologically speaking. You
had your appendix out. The information will help us save lives. The appendix
and endocrine system react negatively to the chemicals released by the brain
during the high-gamma processing phase. I didn’t understand all the details, but
the effect is worse in women; guys just have shorter lives and early onset of
certain psychological disorders.”

She nodded while chewing. Jez
wanted to ask about
pages
but didn’t dare interrupt the flow of
information. She was sure the kid wasn’t supposed to be telling her any of
this. She wouldn’t have said a word, but Daniel asked, “Why did you have your
appendix removed?”

“My dad died of a burst appendix in
his twenties. I was working as an escape artist, and when I had a flareup,
Chance said…”

She broke off in mid-sentence, no
longer hungry.

After a long moment, she could
breathe again. “I’ve been awake for twenty minutes now. That’s the longest it’s
ever taken me to remember the accident.”

Daniel met her gaze. In the
sunlight, she could see that his eyes were the same green as her own, but much
more earnest. “His death wasn’t a random act. The same Rexes that got your
friend were coming after you. When they didn’t find a page among his things,
they thought you might know where he hid it.”

“Dinosaurs?”

“No. While Rexes
are
big,
strong, stupid and cold-blooded, in this case I mean flunkies for another
organization that’s also collecting pages, the Fossils. When their lead
scientist, Dr. Wannamaker, wants a problem resolved, he dispatches a
‘prescription’ to eliminate it, an RX.”

First, her hands turned to ice.
Then, the anger started. Jez growled, “Chance was murdered by hit men?”

“They weren’t supposed to
kill
him. Rexes start as washed-up athletes and ex-cons who would do anything for a
job. They’re given an Override… treatment that enables them to ignore pain and
certain bodily limits. Without pain of their own, they begin to lose normal,
human empathy and turn into sadistic bastards. In this case, they misjudged the
amount of force during questioning and killed him by mistake. It happened so quickly
that I couldn’t send a team in. I shouted, but he couldn’t see me like you
could,” Daniel babbled.

“You
saw
them kill Chance?”
she snapped.

Daniel paused. “There are some
things you can’t un-see. That’s why I couldn’t stand by and let them hurt
someone else.”

Jez was raging. “And you came here
to confess, so you’d feel better?”

Daniel started to lose his temper,
too. “I came to make sure that when they let you go from here, you
run
,
and keep running. I’ve got a Swiss bank-account number that I can give you. Use
whatever you need.”

She snorted, and he took offense.
Daniel said, “I have real money. They pay me well for what I do. I can’t spend
it all.”

Jez shook her head. “No. I believe
you, sweetie. I’m laughing because you think I’m going to leave now that I know
who killed my fiancé.”

Daniel growled in frustration. He
whipped out a pass card and gave it to her. “Take my badge. Everyone always
opens the doors for me anyway. When no one is looking, use it to get into Ward
Seven. It’s where they keep the mistakes. Meet them, and then tell me you’re
not afraid.”

“What are these pages you keep
talking about?” Jez asked.

Daniel rolled toward the door. “I
refuse to tell you anything that someone may want to torture out of you later.”

****

For the first day she was in the
general population, Jez just watched the routines of the ward between her own
activities: exercise, shower, therapy, lunch, art, group, journal, dinner, TV,
massage, bed. The workout time felt good after being idle so long. She could
get used to this life, but the counselor told her that the evaluation period
was only three more days. If she needed medication, or aversion therapy, the
stay could be extended by two weeks.

Late the next day, as she peeked
through the window into Ward Seven, one of the shuffling forms looked up. The
unshaven man locked eyes with her and recognition passed between them. After a
long moment, the patient on the other side laid a finger over his lips and left
her field of vision.

The heavy-set, African-American
nurse coming back from her break said, “You’re not supposed to be here, ma’am.”

Jez jumped in surprise. “I know
him.”

The healthcare worker had biceps as
big as Jezebel’s thighs. For a moment, the former dancer was afraid that the
other woman was going to pick her up and carry her to pottery class. Instead,
the nurse made a face. “Please don’t tell anyone you saw him here; we have
confidentiality rules. A big-name screen writer like Mr. Ragnar would bring in
the press.”

Jez held up a hand. “Don't worry;
we have the same boss. Ragnar was great, but his last two films were…
disturbed.”

The nurse nodded glumly. “No matter
what kind of therapy they do with him, writing exercises, art therapy, or
talking, it always ends in zombies. Trust me, honey, he’s better off here.”

When the nurse went to dinner, Jez
used Daniel’s badge to slip into the ward. Locating Ragnar was easy. Of the
four men in the TV lounge, his was the only face tracking her like a sunflower
following the sun. Ragnar motioned her to join him in the art room.

“An angel comes to visit me,” said
the patient in rasping, stalker-like tones. “I saw you rise in the east.”

Jez dazzled him with her best
smile. “How did you know I was a… friend?”

He glanced around, checking for
observers. “Whenever someone becomes
active
, the rest of us see, like a
lightning flash in the distance.”

“Active?” she asked.

“Normal people are like trees. Half
their existence is buried in the dirt of daily life, half in the air of dreams
reaching for the light of heaven. Actives are not rooted in place.” Ragnar leaned
close to her, and her skin crawled. “But not all the actives are good. Beware
the zombies! You can hide from them in the cornfields if you hear them first.
They may not be bright, but they can run and never tire. Your only hope is to
get out of their sight, out of their reach.”

The man was raising his voice and
would soon attract attention. Jez tried to change the subject. Whispering, she
said, “What can you tell me about the pages?”

He lowered his head. “They tortured
me for days before Fortune found me. I didn’t betray my trust.”

“I don’t think that was luck…”

“Elias Fortune,” he clarified,
naming a tycoon who got his start in real estate and pornography. Today,
Fortune was the billionaire head of a multi-media empire.

Jez blinked. This conspiracy was bigger
than she’d imagined.

Then, the writer began to lose the
little coherency he possessed. “He said my page was blank. It was all for
nothing. That which is beautiful and useful to many is often fragile. Why must
we guard against things being stolen or destroyed: children, tall buildings,
planes, water systems? Destroying is easier than building. It only takes one
insect.”

Jez tried to talk him down. “Good
ideas infect and lift nations for generations to come–paper clips, the number
zero, Velcro. We just need that one positive while suppressing the thousands of
bad. Have faith that people are basically good. You still have the Collective
Unconscious.”

He shuddered. “At night, when the
noise stops, when the ocean turns quiet, I hear
them
. I must build barricades
and hide, but your sun has been a blessing to me. I can sleep when you’re here.
You’re not afraid.”

Jez suddenly realized that the
zombies were the men Daniel referred to as Rexes, the ones who had killed
Chance. This writer could see them for what they were, and it had torn him up
inside. “Sweetie, I’m just as afraid as you are, but nobody hurts the people I
love and gets away with it.”

After the third day of evaluation, the head of the ‘spa’
called Benny to give Jezebel a clean bill of health. Relieved, Benny made
arrangements for an intake interview.

The next morning, Elias Fortune and
Daniel sat with him in the observation room, behind the one-way mirror. When
Jezebel entered the sterile, white interrogation room, Daniel said, “She looks
sharp. I thought you said we couldn’t risk stopping at her apartment to pick up
clothes.”

Even in the gray jacket, skirt, and
ivory blouse, she managed to brighten the room. Her smile and the golden
butterfly helped.

Benny explained, “I sent her the
outfit so she’d look more professional. I have an eye for women’s
measurements.”

Fortune chuckled. “So I’ve heard.” He
was a haggard fifty-six, thinner than considered healthy, and more petulant
than a boy king. The billionaire was about to say more when the woman caught
their attention.

Jez narrowed her eyes and squinted
through the mirror at each of them. Waving, she said, “Hi, Uncle Buddy. Hi,
Oobie. Who’s the new guy?”

Irritated, Elias Fortune switched
off the speaker. “She has no measureable skills of any worth.”

Benny Hollis suppressed a grin at
the blatant sexism. “She’s determined, follows protocol, and can already
discriminate actives at range. I’d say she’s prime material. No one would
suspect.”

Fortune glared at his lieutenant. “This
is like betting a chimpanzee will eventually write Shakespeare, Benjamin. In
the business world, that is precisely what I make money betting
against
!”

Daniel risked displeasure by
saying, “I could use someone to clean my bus, fetch the meals…”

“And file his reports,” added
Benny. “You always complain they’re late, sloppy, and incomplete.”

Fortune seethed. Daniel never asked
for anything, and he was the rarest talent on the project. “Very well, Oobie,
you have a new pet, but she’s your responsibility. If she makes a mess on my
floor, you will clean it up.” When the teenager nodded, the tycoon said, “Benjamin,
do the intake. Remind her of the exit clause.”

The former star nodded. A few
moments later, Benny walked into Jezebel’s room and tossed a wad of papers on
the table. She rotated her chair to face him, giving him both a smile and her
best knee. “Do I get the interview?”

Benny was poker-faced. “That little
parlor trick you just pulled
was
your interview. You have the job—on
probation. How far away could you sense us?”

“From the door.”

“Twenty-five to thirty feet after a
week’s gestation. That’s not bad. About 20 percent of subjects never develop
awareness. The majority of us can only tell by touch.”

“What’s the record?”

“Fifty miles, but he can’t turn it
off, even when he sleeps. Our two most-effective agents max out at fifty yards.
Sign first; then we talk.”

Her smile lit the room as she
signed the first two forms without reading. The last page was different. It was
a suicide note. She stared at Benny, waiting for an explanation.

He hardened himself, and said, “We
all sign one. If you’re killed in the line of duty, this is the easiest
explanation to give the police. The CIA does the same thing.”

“And if I blab to the media, I end
up dead?” she guessed.

Benny shook his head. “Believe it
or not, we’re the good guys. We don’t work like that. However, my employer
wishes me to state, Miss Johnson, that you have just spent a prolonged period
in an asylum after suffering grief, alcoholism, and a psychotic break. The
media will receive just enough details about your harrowing experience to give
you sympathy, but no air time. My boss’s code name is Dirt Bag for good reason.”

She snickered. It made a twisted
sense; porn and property were both dirt. “He sounds like a prince.”

Bending the rules, Benny explained,
“He’s an overbearing prick, but he’s in charge because he’s the only one to
have ever mastered three pages. I only have two. We consider our organization a
meritocracy.”

She stared unmoving at the note
that announced her own death.

Trying to be a gentleman, the actor
shifted gears. “How’s the therapy going?”

Jez shrugged. “I’ll be seeing the
shrink as an outpatient once a week. I’ve been going to AA every day. I’ll make
it.”

“Find any deep issues?”

This question told her that he
could have read her files, but hadn’t. She replied, “Anger turned inward
becomes depression, and I have loads of anger.”

“Towards anyone in particular?”

“Mainly that bitch, Olive,” she
admitted.

“The other reindeer?” he joked.

This caught her off guard. “What?”

“You know, the Rudolph song:
‘Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names.’”

She broke out laughing. “Yeah,
that’s the one, my fiancé’s sister who referred to me as a trailer-park bimbo.”
Deciding that anyone who bashed Olive and his own boss wasn’t all bad, Jez
signed her name on the final note with a flourish.

Taking the stack of papers, Benny
said, “Welcome to the Ladder Project. Your code name, Miss Johnson, will be
Butterfly.”

“It’s not very spy-like. Can’t I
pick one?”

“Did your parents let you pick your
birth name?” he countered.

“No.”

“Think of us as your parents. The
most important thing to remember as an agent is that your cell
is
your
family. Do nothing to endanger them. Talking to outsiders about the project can
get us all killed.

“Your immediate supervisor is
Oobie–that’s an acronym for Out of Body. By now, you probably know that. It’s a
powerful technique, and he is the only one to assimilate that page fully. He
heads Eye Corps, our scouting branch.”

“Your official title will be
executive assistant in the human resources’ scouting division. You will have a
salary, benefits, and a travel allowance.”

Jez raised an eyebrow. “You’re
telling me I went through all this to be a glorified secretary? Why? Because I
only read about a paragraph before I passed out?”

“That’s called a theta trap. It
sends a receptive brain into a deep-theta state used for learning during sleep.
You’re lucky. If you had read the whole thing, you might not be here. Not
everyone can handle the input. We usually give the first page to candidates as
a litmus test.”

“So you take just anyone?” Jez
asked.

Benny shook his head. “Normally,
we’re more selective. There are weeks of pre-tests. You have significant
training to catch up on. We will be sending you some tutors. The first thing
you’ll learn is how to go in and out of deep-theta state at will. This can
immunize you to the side-effects of a page and enable you to hide from
interrogation.”

Jez swore at this revelation.

Benny went on with the indoctrination.
“Don’t worry; your cell always has a hypnotic key to bring you out of the
state, to make sure you’re not stuck there permanently. Because I’m an
entertainer, my key is a tug on the right ear lobe and the Carol Burnett
closing song.”

“And Oobie?”

“He’s big on video games. For him,
pull on his right forefinger, and say ‘Game over.’ What would you like your key
to be?”

Jez thought about this and
answered, “Chance would always clap me on the shoulder and tell me ‘Good show.’
That should work.”

“What did you do as a magician’s
assistant?”

She snorted. “It was like ballroom
dancing; the woman does all the work. I had a lot of contortions and escapes to
do, but he got the applause and his name on the marquee.”

He nodded, remembering the show-biz
adage. “Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards and in high
heels. Why didn’t you find a job with another magician?”

“I had an offer, a disgusting one.
He made sure I didn’t work as an assistant again. Enough about my depressing
life, what about you? If this boss is so obnoxious, why not just read another
page?”

“The powerful ones are a mental
balancing act. We’re very careful about trying new combinations, just like
medication. Empathy combined with the collective unconscious is a two-edged
sword. I can affect others, but their emotions affect me. If I use the ability
too often, I open myself up to a sort of externally imposed manic depression.
Worse still, if I read another page and went insane, I might be contagious.”

“That gives me warm fuzzies,” Jez
mused.

“I told you I’d answer what I
could, whether you wanted to know the answer or not.”

“Let’s go back to the basics.
What’s with the funny, gold color?”

“The paper is really a composite
fiber, not unlike Kevlar. Normal fire will not harm it, nor can scissors.
They’ve even been known to stop a bullet.”

“Pretty advanced material,” she
admired.

“More than you know.” Benny placed
the page in front of her again. “Without touching the surface, what do you
notice about it this time?”

“It’s blank. Is this a joke?”

Benny shook his head. “You’ve heard
of that new, smart paper? Lower your hand toward it very slowly and watch the
surface.”

Jez obeyed, and saw black flicker
for an instant. The print went through several types of characters before
settling on English. “Benny, this paper is
too
smart.”

Benny nodded. “Everyone sees their
own native language. Illiterates get pictures. Down’s subject 075 saw comic-book
panels. Very little of the message is the physical text people read. The
important stuff doesn’t Xerox.”

The amount of information was
dizzying. Jez grabbed for Benny’s water bottle and took a swig. She seemed
desperate to stall, unsure why.

Benny was very gentle. “What are
you afraid of?”

Jez sighed. “Some things can’t be
unheard, but I’m in the family now. Give it to me.”

Benny continued, holding her hand. “Data
is fed through skin contact or the optic nerve in more subtle ways. Chemical,
DNA radio, we don’t know for certain. When you read this language, you dream
about the text; though, everyone processes in different ways and varying
speeds. What does that tell you?”

She rubbed the back of her
butterfly pendant like a rabbit’s foot. She had done this so often, the jewelry
was now a paler color in the center. Very deliberately, Jez said, “This page was
not made by human beings.”

“Exactly.”

“Then who? Aliens, angels?”

Benny shrugged. “No idea. One
theory claims that all pages are blank; they just stimulate us to come up with
the ideas ourselves. This is known as the bootstrap hypothesis.”

“Ideas?” echoed Jez.

“Each page represents one idea that
our society does not have, a rung on a ladder to a higher form of civilization.
Any one page could revolutionize an industry and dominate it for decades to
come. That’s why certain members of the petroleum, pharmaceutical, and
fertilizer industries would kill for even one of these pages. Governments would
also kill before they let theirs escape.”

“The Fossils,” Jez said,
remembering the pejorative term Daniel used for the opposition.

“But the true power is the synergy
that happens when you combine these ideas. Do you see why we can’t afford to
let the others bury or destroy them? We need all the rungs to complete the
ladder.”

Jez struggled to hold the concept. “Some
of this sounds more like a curse or trap than a blessing. How do we know the
aliens, or whatever, are benevolent? Where does the ladder lead?”

“You don’t have the clearance for
that yet. We’ll talk further if you ever get to level two.”