The Pain Colony

by Shanon Hunt

  There was nothing light about what he and Hammond were planning to propose. In fact, the times had never been darker. But if all went well, maybe there would be light at the end of the tunnel.

  “And don’t throw in that bit about your grandmother smelling like mold.”

  Austin laughed. “As dumb as it is, it gets a roar of laughter every time.” He took a sip of bourbon. He loved his new life.

  “I know, I know …”

  The conference table speakerphone jingled. Austin recognized the voice of the Fixer on the other end.

  “Sir, we have a situation. Allison Stevens attempted to break into Jonathan Chambers’s office. She was alone in his private office less than four minutes, but evidently she found the files with the confidential documents. My operative is unsure which files she might have viewed before she was discovered and stopped.”

  Shit. Adrenaline shot through Austin’s veins. Goddamn the insolence of that girl. Why couldn’t she just do what she was told?

  Hammond scowled, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled dramatically. “This is really unfortunate to hear. I made it clear that we have zero room for error.” Hammond spoke to the man on the phone, but Austin knew the comment was directed at him.

  “I understand, sir. Would you like me to eliminate Ms. Stevens?”

  The suggestion made Austin dizzy, and he had to grab the edge of the table to steady himself. Without Allison, he’d lose everything, but he wasn’t about to tip his hand to Hammond this early in the negotiation process. Allison was his wildcard, and without her this whole deal would collapse. He had to diffuse this.

  Hammond buried his head in his hands, making fists in his hair.

  Austin eased back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “We can eliminate her if you think it’s best, Stewart, but believe me, Allison Stevens is a mouse, not a cat. She might have a curious side, but I can assure you she’s not tough enough to take it any further.”

  He wondered if Hammond could hear the tremor in his voice. He forced himself to take a sip from his bourbon, even though he was so nervous he could barely swallow.

  Hammond looked up, seething.

  Austin swirled the ice in his glass. “I’d hate to lose my linchpin for Quandary. I really need her to keep up appearances.” He kept his gaze on his drink, hoping Hammond couldn’t read the desperation on his face. Maybe he was being too aloof. He tried another tack and sat up straight, looking Hammond in the eye. “But it’s your call. If you think she’s too much of a risk, I’ll just have to find another way to manage things back in New Jersey.”

  Stewart eyed him balefully. “Some mice, when they feel threatened, go on the attack.”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  Austin had almost forgot the Fixer was on the phone. He held his composure and waited.

  Finally, Stewart averted his stare and spoke to the phone. “Dr. Harris has made it clear that it’s in our best interest to keep the girl alive. Because of our partnership, I’ll trust his judgment. Put a tail on her.”

  Austin exhaled with relief, and Hammond caught it. The corners of Hammond’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “A close tail. I want to know if she deviates from her instructions again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hammond disconnected the call and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Austin slumped back in his chair with a groan. Bullet dodged. But his relief was fleeting. What in god’s name was she doing? The FBI must be watching her closely now. She should be dutifully following her orders.

  If it hadn’t been for that damn misplaced invoice. The biggest goddamn mistake of his life.

  He considered his situation. He wasn’t ready to use Allison yet. He just needed another two or three weeks to seal the deal with Hammond. But Allison’s unpredictability made her too risky. He couldn’t have her poking around like this.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and waited another minute to make sure Hammond wasn’t returning. Then he redialed the number of the last incoming call.

  “Yes.”

  Austin kept his eyes on the conference room door. “Stewart and I are in agreement. There’s a change of plans.”

  Chapter 42

  “Allison …”

  She had just slammed the door of her Toyota Camry when a tap on her shoulder startled her. Her Wendy’s bag thunked onto the pavement.

  “Damn.” She picked up the bag before turning to look at the offender who’d come up on her so suddenly.

  It took a moment for her to recognize Dr. Chambers’s assistant. “Elaine?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I wanted to speak with you, but I didn’t want to go into the building.”

  Allison didn’t know how to respond, so she waited.

  “I was wondering if we could sit in your car. I have something to show you.” Elaine stood tall and spoke with confidence—nothing like the insecure mouse Allison had intimidated barely a week ago.

  “Uh, okay.” She opened the door and slid back into the driver’s seat as Elaine walked to the passenger side and hoisted a large quilted purse onto her lap.

  Elaine got right to the point. “I need my job with Dr. Chambers. You’re right, he’s a verbally abusive man, and yes, he intimidates me. He has a quick temper that usually gets the better of him. But he does care about his patients. One of them is my son, who suffers a genetic disease called erythromelalgia. Have you heard of it?”

  Allison shook her head.

  “There are only a handful of patients diagnosed with the disease. His symptoms started when he was eleven. He stopped wearing shoes because he said his feet burned. As he got older, the burning sensation spread to his legs, his arms, his hands. I didn’t understand why, and had I known his father, which I didn’t, I might have learned he had inherited it. It’s a genetic mutation of the SCN9A gene.”

  Now it came to her: Man on Fire Syndrome. She’d read up on it after the Spiragene meeting. Her hand rose involuntarily to her mouth.

  Elaine continued. “Jeff spent most of his days indoors to be near chests of ice to put his feet in. He had ice packs for his hands and arms. He couldn’t go to school. He couldn’t play with his friends.” Tears welled, but only for a moment. “No doctors in my HMO plan could help him, and I finally reached out to Dr. Chambers. I begged him to help, but I couldn’t afford his fees. I was working as a low-paid nurse at the time, and I agreed to work for him as his administrative assistant if he’d take Jeff as a patient. Dr. Chambers had a reputation for being tough, and he had a difficult time retaining secretaries. Go figure. Anyway, he took over Jeff’s treatment, and we tried everything. Nothing except morphine ever worked for Jeff.”

  “God.” Allison shook her head in sympathy.

  “Then a couple years ago, Dr. Chambers asked if we wanted to try a new gene therapy. It wasn’t an approved drug—it wasn’t even an experimental drug—and it hadn’t yet been fully tested in animals. I said yes. God, I had no choice. Jeff was wasting away with no quality of life. He slept through his days, had lost nearly half his body weight. He looked like—” She swallowed hard. “He looked like a hospice patient.”

  “So you gave him the drug?” Jesus. It was unheard of. How could a mother give an untested drug to her own child?

  Elaine clasped her hands. “I knew it was illegal and risky. Dr. Chambers said we could never, ever speak of it to anyone. Even in the office, we only referred to it as the elixir. But it works. It was like a miracle. Jeff took the drug for six months through a spinal port, and it cured him completely. Now he only returns once every six months for another dose. He has a life. For the first time, he has a normal life.”

  Elaine grew lost in thought, stony-faced as she stared at the concrete wall in front of the car. Allison waited for her to continue.

  “You visited me on Tuesday, August the fifteenth,” Elaine said. “I wrote it down in my scheduler, where I write down every aspect of my day. That same night, I received a call from Dr. Chambe
rs letting me know that he’d be away an additional two weeks. Just before I hung up, he asked if Dr. Harris had called. I know Austin’s in trouble with the law, so I found it odd that Dr. Chambers would be expecting a call from him. That’s when I replayed the moment I caught you looking through his files. You said something illegal might be going on.”

  Allison squirmed as a chill slithered up her spine. She gripped her knees in an effort to keep still.

  “I was worried someone might’ve found out about Jeff’s medication, so I decided to look through Dr. Chambers’s file cabinet myself to see what he’s been hiding. And I found something.”

  Elaine pulled a file folder from her purse.

  “I debated whether to bring this to you. I don’t want anything to get in the way of Jeff’s injections, and what I’ve found … I mean, if this gets out … well.” She sighed heavily. “I know I took a huge risk allowing Dr. Chambers to give this drug to my son, and I was prepared to suffer the consequences if the drug didn’t—”

  “I understand,” Allison whispered.

  “But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t show you what I found.”

  Allison looked down at the folder. It was labeled B. Elliott. She could barely resist yanking it right from Elaine’s hands.

  Elaine’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Dr. Chambers thinks I’m a dummy. He assumes just because I’m fat and shy that I’m dumb. A lot of people have that perception, really.”

  “That’s not true.” But Allison knew the obesity stigma was real. Hadn’t she herself found Elaine an easy target for manipulation and bullying?

  “Yes, it is. But it gives me an advantage. He underestimates me. He thinks I don’t understand when I listen to his conversations or when I read his documents. But I do.” She smiled ominously and opened the folder. “So let me tell you what I think is going on. I found a folder labeled Field Cohort that had profiles of eight patients. Have a look.”

  Allison scanned the names: Elvis Doe, age 31. Eric Sparks, age 21. Faye, age unknown (20–30 yrs.). Karen Richmond, age 23.

  “Have you ever heard of any of these people?” Elaine asked.

  Allison shrugged.

  “They were given a drug, see?” She pointed to a section labeled Treatment. “The drug they were given is called LXR102016. It’s similar to the drug that was given to Jeff, which was LXR10—”

  Allison’s mouth fell open. Spiragene. Austin’s secret research. “Oh my god, I know this drug! I know the LXR drugs. There’s a whole family of them in research.”

  Elaine looked at her with skepticism. “But you don’t know the patients? Have another look.”

  Allison read the remaining names: Jake Graventoll, Mark Vespe, A. J. Reese, Reuben Smith. She frowned. “Uh-uh, I’ve never heard of any of them.”

  “Because apparently you paid them to participate in the study.”

  The next document Elaine handed her was an Excel printout that looked exactly like one of her own, with the same color scheme and column headers. She looked at the line items. Payment to Eric Sparks, $50,000, Account DBB 889805532, Account Holder Allison Stevens. Another payment to Karen Richmond, $50,000. Jake Graventoll and Mark Vespe were also paid $50,000 from the account in Allison’s name. The remaining four patients were paid $1,000 in cash.

  “I didn’t pay anyone.” Her voice was a whimper as her gaze locked on the account holder name: Allison Stevens.

  “I think they were part of a biohacking group, just like my son.” Elaine spoke in a whisper, as if they weren’t alone in the car.

  This was it. This was Austin’s secret project. His venture. Austin was biohacking gene therapies. The LXR drugs. She swayed slightly and braced herself with a hand on the steering wheel.

  “There is no LXR gene therapy in a legitimate clinical study,” Elaine said. “I looked through the FDA’s website. That means you paid patients to participate in an illegal clinical trial.”

  “But I didn’t!” Allison insisted. “This isn’t my account.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I didn’t even know about it.” Suddenly being accused of buying a house and a diamond ring seemed like trivial nonsense. Her chest tightened with panic.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “I’m not responsible for this!” She was practically yelling, her voice an octave higher.

  “Allison, I know you didn’t do it.” Elaine lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “I know you didn’t, because I’m the one who opened the bank account. In your name.”

  Chapter 43

  I drop my backpack on the kitchen table and listen. The house is quiet except for the small TV in Mom’s room. I walk over to Daddy’s wheelchair, which Mom let me keep after the funeral, and adjust Teddy Morey, who’d slipped down in the chair with one chubby leg hanging off. I give him a kiss and walk upstairs and down the dark hall, hoping Mom’s awake. I know she won’t be.

  “Mom?” I ask quietly just outside her door. There’s no answer. “Mom?” I repeat, a little louder. “Are you awake?” She still doesn’t answer. I wait a minute, wondering if I should open the door or not. I decide to open it just a crack and peek in. The shades are drawn, and the room is almost completely dark. I see the shape of Mom lying on her side under her heavy comforter.

  I walk back downstairs to the kitchen. I’m starving. I open the fridge and find that moldy cheese still in there. I’m afraid to touch it, so I quickly close the door. The pantry hasn’t improved this week, either. I take the last sleeve of Ritz crackers and the jar of peanut butter into the living room. I’m not allowed to eat in the living room, but I know Teddy Morey won’t tattle. I roll Teddy Morey’s chair next to the living room sofa so he can watch TV with me. Then I turn on the TV and flop onto the sofa.

  Mom doesn’t wake up till late, while I’m watching Friends. She wanders into the living room and squints from the light.

  “Hi, honey. How was school?”

  “Fine,” I answer, looking back at the TV.

  “Did you do your homework?”

  “Yep.” I know she won’t check like she used to.

  “Okay. Did you have something for dinner?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, good.”

  I wonder if she’s going to ask me more questions. Monica and Chandler are getting married, and I’ve been waiting all week to see it.

  “Okay, well, I’m really tired, so I’m going to bed. Can you tuck yourself in?”

  “Sure.” Chandler’s speech is so sweet. He really does want to marry Monica, even though Joey almost messed it all up.

  The mention of dinner makes me realize I’m hungry. During the commercials, I dash into the kitchen to see what’s left in the pantry. I find a can of fruit cocktail hidden behind the stewed tomatoes, and I grab a spoon and run back to the sofa before the show starts up again.

  ***

  Layla opened her eyes to an empty room. It wasn’t the first time she was last in the community building after devotions. She sighed and rolled off her knees onto her hip. Her legs were completely numb. She lifted each calf with her hands and straightened her legs, exhaling from the dull throb as the blood refilled her muscles.

  Brother James had warned her to take it easy, but with greater physical suffering her memories seemed to be more detailed, more intense, and more emotional. Her craving for new memories grew with each passing day.

  They weren’t all great memories, obviously, and some of them held no meaning at all. But one thing she knew for certain: Her poisoned life was filled with far more suffering, pain, and loneliness than she’d ever experienced at the Colony. She had no interest in going back to that life, but she continued to be curious about it. She wanted to understand how she’d become the woman she was today, how she’d ultimately come to be at the Colony. All those memories resided deep inside her unconscious mind, just as Dr. Jeannette had been telling her all this time. They would continue to emerge, one puzzle piece at a time, until one day she’d be able to pu
t the whole thing together.

  She lay back, feeling tiny and insignificant beneath the soaring cathedral ceiling of the community building. The stones in the ceiling formed an enormous, intricate circle. It comforted her to see that the spot she lay was directly in the center of the stones. She felt protected.

  Circles could be found everywhere in the Colony. Even the garden had been planted in an elaborate circle of tangled branches and stems, with a small break in the ring where Colony residents could enter to meditate. Circles symbolized purity and wholeness.

  But Brother James had told her that the circle had an even deeper significance that most members of the Colony weren’t aware of: a ring representing eternity, the immortality of a pure society, the only sustainable future of the world. And the colonists would lead the purification of the earth. It sounded beautiful when he explained it.

  Her chest swelled with pride at being among the leaders of the purification of the earth. She would be a warrior for the Father. She would be a champion.

  If only the Father allowed it.

  She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up into a plank position. Sweat dripped from her forehead and splatted onto the cement floor as she counted her breaths. Her arms trembled, threatening to give out, but she held on for ten more breaths. You always have ten percent more than you think, her yogi had told her one day after the rest of the class had packed up and left the studio. You’ll find your warrior self in that remaining ten percent, not the ninety percent before that.

  With slow, controlled movements, as she’d been instructed, she lowered herself to the floor. She wasn’t a warrior woman yet, but she was on her way. Every day, her counts went longer. She would show Brother James and Dr. Jeannette that she was capable.

  She flipped over and pushed herself into an upward plank pose, ignoring the pain in her awkwardly twisted wrists. Oh, yes. She’d find her inner warrior.