Multiples of Six (13 page)

“Like I said…it’s a bit of a long story,” James said, weakly.

“There was a man who brought us together…a doctor. He pointed me in the right direction to find James…then he told us to find you. Told us that we were part of some…government experiment. That doctor was killed because he helped us. He told us that there would be people after us. And, if we didn’t find you first, well…,” Kevin said.

“What? Why? What does…finding me…have to do with anything? I live at home with my mom and dad and work at a bagel shop. What do I have to do with people getting killed?”

He took a half step back from them.

“Man, if you only knew the half of it,” Kevin said.

“It’s really been a rough couple of days,” Nicole said, looking from James and Kevin to Doug.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want anything to do with this,” Doug said, raising his hands apologetically. “I can’t get caught up in something like this. I can’t. I’m…sorry.”

“It’s not that simple, Doug,” James said.

“They’re coming after you too,” Nicole said.

“Who?” Doug said.

“A doctor and some other dude with guns,” chimed in Kevin.

“They’ve been following us since we left New Jersey,” Nicole said.

“New Jersey…that explains a lot. Why don’t you just call the police?”

“They are the police,” Kevin said.

Doug wrinkled his nose.

“Sounds like a bad movie line,” he said.

“Yeah,” James said, with a sigh, “that’s what I thought.”

“It only sounds funny when you aren’t on the run,” Kevin said.

“I wish I could help, really,” Doug said.

“Doug,” James said, “We’re not here for your help. As stupid as it might sound, we’re here to…save you. I can’t tell it to you any other way, and I know it must sound crazy coming from someone you met five minutes ago, but I need you to hear what we’re saying. There’s an answer to this somewhere, somewhere here,” and James gestured between the three of them.

“Don’t you want to know what this is all about? Don’t you think your parents might have some answers? If you tell me no, I’m going to go over to your house and knock on the door myself,” Kevin said

“You wouldn’t…” Doug said.

“Oh, he would,” James said, “I understand your sense of confusion…trust me. But, you haven’t lived through the past forty-eight hours that we have. I’ve left everything I had behind. Such as it is. I can’t go back to that life now. It doesn’t exist. Besides the fact that I’ve no family to return to, Doug. This is it. I’m looking at it…right here. This is what’s left of my family…for what it’s worth.”

There was a long awkward moment, where the two young men looked one another in the eye. It was Doug who looked away first. He looked over his shoulder, as if back into the bagel shop.

“He’s going to kill me you know,” Doug said.

“I know some other people who might kill you too, only not in the figurative sense,” Kevin said.

“Our car is around the corner,” James said.

Doug took off his apron and his hat and turned away from them without speaking. He went into the back door. James looked at Nicole and they exchanged a look that questioned whether he had high-tailed it out the front door. But, he returned a moment later in a khaki Carhart jacket, an orange wool cap, and a simple wooden cane.

“You forgot your shotgun,” Kevin murmured and Nicole elbowed him so hard that he coughed.

“I’ll take you to my house. I think my parents…might have some explaining to do,” he said.

James said nothing, but they all turned down the alley toward the car.

Chapter 27

The house at Seventeen Lawrence Square Drive was almost as James had imagined when he spoke to Mrs. Pederson. It was a small cape-style house with a tiny front yard. The houses along the entire street were all no more than ten feet apart on either side and cookie-cutter in size, shape, and quaintness. It was white-bread Middle America. Something fluttered in James as they approached the front door. Kevin looked completely uncomfortable and hung back, looking around nervously. Nicole seemed to sense James’ mood, and squeezed his arm gently. She looked at him as if grasping at the same hope that Doug’s parents were his too. James had decided on the way over that he didn’t want them to be. That would certainly be harder to take than if they had simply lied to Doug. It was a selfish thought, but James didn’t think he could handle any other answer at this point. He looked at Doug, wondering if his physical size equaled the strength it might take to comprehend the possibility of his parents not being
his
parents. James didn’t want to see him crushed and he certainly didn’t want to feel responsible.

Doug unlocked the door and the four of them stepped into a small foyer.

“Mom? Dad?” he called.

“Douglas?” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere at the rear of the house. James stomach flopped in place, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was nerves or the fact that they hadn’t eaten in so long. The warm smell of baking bread was almost overwhelming, and the country-blue décor made the home overly welcoming. He fought the urge to turn and run out.

“Douglas? What are you doing home so early?”

The voice came from behind James, and as he turned, he locked eyes with a retirement aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair, an oversized denim shirt, and glasses that made her eyes look strangely large on such a small woman. “Is there something…oh my.”

“Mother, I’ve brought some…friends,” Doug said.

The woman didn’t seem to know her son was there. She stared, mouth agape, at James and Kevin. James stared back at her, not knowing quite what to do or say. Her hand went to her mouth and the other found the back of the pale blue couch she stood next to. Her face paled and James could see her chin tremble.

“Oh my,” she repeated, then moved around to the front of the couch to sit down, her legs looking less and less stable.

“Mother?” Doug said, and he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

It wasn’t until this point that she stopped looking at James. Her eyes were looking watery, and she covered her mouth as it was visibly starting to shake.

“Oh my,” she managed again, this time nearly inaudible. There was no other sound in the house.

“Mother, it’s all right. This is James...and Kevin, right? They’ve come a long way. And, that’s James’ friend…ummm,” Doug said, offering Nicole an apologetic look and a sheepish smile that James recognized too well.

“Nicole. My name is Nicole,” Nicole said, offering her hand. Doug’s mother looked at Nicole’s hand as if it might bite, then took it, gripping it briefly, and let it go. She pointed to a box of tissues that Doug retrieved immediately. She removed a fistful to blot her eyes and nose. She stared up at James again, her eyes welling with fresh tears. She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

“Mrs. Pederson, I…I’m just looking for some answers. I’m not looking for anything more than that,” James said.

But, he had seen it in her first shocked look. This was not his mother. Nor was she Doug’s, and inside she was now dealing with the old lie that had unraveled right before her eyes. Doug was still very much confused and when he looked to James for some explanation, James looked away to Mrs. Pederson.

There was no physical resemblance between either of them. She could have as easily called Nicole her daughter as James, Kevin, and Doug her sons. She stared so fixedly at James, but he wouldn’t look away. He couldn’t read her, but he was positive there was now a note of hatred welling somewhere behind the watering eyes.

“He told me...warned me not to do it. That I should just tell you the truth. I was such a fool…such a fool. He told me that something like this might happen…just not…good lord, if I had known. Triplets?” she said, and pressed a wad of tissues to her face to stem the new flow of tears.

Doug pressed a soothing arm over her shoulder. His attempt to smile faltered.

“What are you saying, Mom? Who told you?” Doug said.

“Someone told you we might come?” James said.

“Douglas, I’m…so sorry,” she said, grabbing him and pulling him into an awkward hug. She sobbed into his shoulder, “I’ve been such a bad parent.”

“Mom…momma, c’mon,” Doug said, patting her should.

He again tried a half smile, looking around at Nicole and James for some sort of consolation. They didn’t return his smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Mom?” Doug asked.

It was then that steps and a voice came from an unseen doorway. It was a deep baritone voice.

“Douglas? Is that you, son? What the hell are you doing home so early? Leo send you home early? You ok, son?”

It was a flurry of questions that came out all before the man could be seen. He entered the room, almost having to duck inside the doorway. James felt that he had suddenly eaten the mushroom that makes you small without knowing it. The man, with slick silver hair and an angular face and glasses to match those of his wife, towered over James by a solid foot at least. He was lean and lanky because of his height, with a pleasant demeanor that shadowed upon seeing James and Kevin and his crying wife.

“Sweet mother of God,” he said, suddenly looking stiff. He rubbed a finger across his lips and settled himself slowly into an oversized easy chair that seemed to be custom made for someone large, but still smaller than himself.

“Oh, Jair,” whispered his wife.

“Alice,” he said, his resolute voice carrying to every corner of the room, “we knew this day might come.”

She only seemed to sob harder into her son’s shoulder.

“Dad?” Doug said.

He had sat next to his mother and gently rubbed her back like someone who doesn’t know what else to do. His father and he stared one another down for what seemed to be a long moment, as if one was trying to pass the word silently to the other. His father looked away first and Doug frowned. James felt a wave of embarrassment burn up through his chest. He pulled at his collar, his jacket suddenly feeling extremely constricting.

“Douglas,” he said, after some time, “Son…your mother and I…there’s something…we should have told you this a long time ago. It would have saved us a lot of grief and anxiety. But, ignorance is all the more bright when looked upon with fading eyes.”

“I don’t understand,” Doug said.

“Nor will you,” said Gerard Pederson, and he turned to James, “your name?”

“James, sir,” and James stood to shake the man’s hand. The man offered him a firm handshake and an awkward smile. He turned to Kevin.

“Uhhh…Kevin. Yeah,” he said and offered a quick handshake.

“You must realize that we cannot be your parents,” he said, as James sat down.

“I think I understood that before we walked in the door, sir,” James said, turning to look at Doug.

“I still don’t get it,” Doug said. “Then…”

“Douglas,” said Gerard, “your mother and I were…fools. This should have never been a surprise.”

“Such is life,” James breathed more to himself than the group.

“James,” said Gerard. “What did your adoptive parents tell you of your blood parents?”

“That they were killed in a car accident on the way home from the hospital after having me. I somehow survived,” James said.

Gerard puffed through his nose sardonically.

“Such a tale. We were told to tell Doug the same thing. That it would be easier that way, especially if his brother should arrive to find him.”

“Dad?” Doug said.

“Son,” said Gerard, and he leaned forward in his seat, pressing his fist to his mouth before speaking again. “As much a son to me that I could have ever wished for.”

At that, Gerard Pederson stood up, walked over to his son and knelt by his side, enveloping his wife and child in his tangle of arms. James, Kevin, and Nicole stepped slowly out of the room as one.

“Are you ok?” Nicole said in hushed tones, reaching the hallway past the foyer.

“Am I ok? I feel like I just took a Sharpie to the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel,” James said.

“Like we just told The Beav that Ward and June weren’t his parents,” Kevin said.

“Look at this place! Look at them. We’ve come in…and
ruined
it all in one fell swoop. They’re devastated. How am I supposed to the feel? This was selfish. We should have never come,” James said

“James, don’t. You couldn’t have known. Paynter never told us this, any of this,” Nicole said.

“And, now I’ve met him, now what? It was too easy. Something inside me knew it was too good to be true. After all of that crap, I knew it couldn’t be this neatly wrapped package.”

“But, a part of you wanted it to be true,” she said.

She placed a warm hand behind his neck and rubbed gently, but he pulled away.

“That doesn’t make it ok,” he said.

He pulled open the front door and welcomed the crispness of the cold morning air.

Chapter 28

Dr. Paynter sat in a supply closet on the third floor of the cardiovascular ward. As far as he could tell, he was now in the Our Lady of Mercy Medical Center in Lewiston, Pennsylvania. He hadn’t moved for over six hours as best as he could tell. The numbness from the cold and the miles of walking had worn out midway through the night and he could only remember one other time being in so much pain. He was sixteen, left wing for the varsity soccer team in Norfolk, Virginia. It had been an unusually cold and rainy November day for a game. He had been a late replacement for one of the regulars and he had played his butt off. With the final minutes of the game ticking down, his team was down a goal when they earned a corner kick. The fullback had lobbed up a high slow one and he positioned himself to make the leap. He hadn’t seen the defender and the goalie heading toward him. The three young men collided in mid-air, the ball glancing off of Paynter’s head and the goalie’s fists, one of which caught Paynter on the temple. He didn’t see the end of the game. They lost and he spent the following days in bed recovering from a concussion, four broken ribs, and a high ankle sprain. If that was the worst, he thought, he’d had it pretty easy. This wasn’t even close.

He’d spotted the blue ‘H’ hospital signs along the road and used them as a guide. He had ducked in and out of places where tracks would be hard to follow, or behind shrubs and bushes where it was possible. It had felt like a journey that wouldn’t end. At times, he had to use the cell phone in his pocket to see in the dark. He had done that sparingly, so as to save the battery life. He didn’t have a chance to tell James what he’d done. His cell phone had just been sitting out in the open on the table. Paynter had slipped it into his pocket when the commotion began. It was instinct and he wasn’t quite sure why he had grabbed it and James hadn’t.

Now, he looked at James’ phone and hoped the young man was safe and that he hadn’t needed it. Given the circumstances, he saw the true dumb-luck brilliance of it. Paynter didn’t know James’ number, but he knew the number of the phone in the glove compartment of his car. At least he should have.

It was only a brilliant plan if he could remember his own number. Several times during his walk, he stood cursing at his luck. He just had to remember ten digits, but between the cold and the pain he was in, nothing he did changed the fact that he couldn’t remember the last four numbers of the phone he’d had for the last seven years. Throwing the phone into the snow seemed like a good idea several times that night, but he decided to keep walking until he could do something for the pain. The hospital would be where they would look for him first, but it was also the only place he could help himself. He’d checked out the wounds. Broken ribs were his best guess, a couple of surface lacerations, and deep tissue bruising to go with it, but he figured it still beat the alternative.

The hospital was barely stirring when Paynter first saw it from a distance. Set out at the edge of the small town, it had looked like a beacon in the dark when he came across it. At the same time, he knew it could also be a hub of activity. Someone might be there, waiting for him already. He had relied on his knowledge of general hospital protocol. There were certain areas more heavily monitored than others. And, hospitals out in The Sticks sometimes had more lax rules regarding visitors. He couldn’t simply walk in the front door, but with a straight face, he might make it in through a service entrance and find what he needed.

Paynter watched for about a half hour from the rear parking lot. There was little activity back there and he thought that he had timed it perfectly to go in before the shift change. He saw a particular service entrance door close ever so slowly. He timed it. It took all of forty-five seconds to close after being opened wide. Moving as quickly as he had all day across the parking lot, his chest fighting the cracked ribs, his cold fingers caught the edge of the door before it shut. From there, he was able to avoid major hallways, doorways that required a pass, and what few security cameras he spotted. The first utility closet he came to was locked. The second was ajar. Another security violation laid bare. Should do this for a living, he thought.

The closet contained the typical cleaning and sanitation supplies, but had been expanded to store unused or possibly broken beds and gurneys. It gave Paynter some space to conceal himself. Even if someone came in to get something, they’d have to be looking for him. He hoped that he didn’t smell as bad as he thought he might and that maybe someone would mistake it for mop mildew if they noticed.

When he settled onto the floor in a corner furthest from the door, he thought it might have been the most comfortable block of tile he’d ever rested on. He would try and sleep first, then make his way to find something to dull the pain, and maybe some athletic tape for the ribs. He just hoped his self-diagnosis had been accurate enough to not get him killed. During his walk, he had half-expected to just drop dead from some major internal injury he had not felt. Now, as the desire to sleep overwhelmed his sense of pain, he remembered that he still needed to call James…if only he could remember that number. Sleep would do the trick. Maybe the numbers would come to him in a dream.