BOSSY BROTHERS: JOHNNY

by Huss, JA

  “But they won’t let me and my father go free. One of us has to be insurance. You know that. And… and if my father goes with you he can work on a cure for Maisy. I can’t do that! I’m not a scientist. I’m a freaking tech, OK! I’m not smart enough to find a cure. He can figure it out and—”

  “No!” I say again. “You can figure it out. He’s not going to let you stay with them, Megan. He’ll insist. We talked about this already. He will stay and you will come with me and—”

  “I know he’ll stay. And I know he would want it that way. Believe me, we’ve talked about this. We planned many scenarios if they ever found out what we were really doing. But that was before I knew about the kids, Johnny. And he’s not in control right now. I am. And I’m going to stay and be their insurance policy and he’s going to go with you and find a cure for what we’ve done and then maybe, one day, he’ll come back for me and—”

  “Fuck that!” Fuck that, no way. Logan is here and—”

  “I know,” she says. “And that’s the only way you and my father will be able to leave, so I get it. But Logan’s team…” She shakes her head. “It’s not going to be enough. They’ll have drones, Johnny.”

  I look over at the island just as she says that and see them. Little dots floating above the beach. They could be birds, but they’re not.

  She’s right.

  I turn to her. Take her face in my hands and look her in the eyes. “Listen to me, OK? I am not leaving you on that island. I will not leave you behind. I made a promise last night and I mean to keep it. If you go down, I go with you. That’s the only way we get through this.”

  She stares at me with those prefect baby-blue-green eyes. Looking like a desperate, lost princess chained up inside the dragon’s lair.

  “No,” I whisper. “You don’t understand.” I swallow hard. “You’re all I’ve got, Megan. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had. You can’t do this.”

  She stares back at me. Silent.

  “Please. Please don’t do this.”

  “There’s no other way.”

  “There is always another way.”

  “I don’t see it, Johnny. When I agreed to do this project with my father it was on one condition. That no innocent people would die. Only those sick fucks at the top. That’s how we planned it. But the Way… I didn’t know they were running their own trials based on our drug and giving it to the children. And that… it changes everything for me. We need to undo this, Johnny. And my father is the only one who can make that happen.”

  “So why are we even going then? Why even tell them? We should turn around. I’ll go back to my job as banker and—”

  “It’s too late,” she whispers. Kissing me softly on the mouth. “We’re here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - MEGAN

  Johnny turns to look at the island. Our auto-pilot cuts the throttle and we coast in towards the dock.

  “What the fuck is that?” Johnny asks. Pointing to the structure on the beach.

  “Looks like a tent,” I say. “Maybe they’re going to serve us lunch?”

  Johnny huffs and begins manually guiding the yacht towards the dock.

  There are half a dozen drones buzzing around the helm as we slide alongside the dock. Not the fixed-wing kind like last night. But the helicopter kind. The kind with four sets of spinning rotors so they can nimbly maneuver or simply hover in place as they record video or… whatever they do.

  I grab binoculars from a cubbyhole near my knees and train them on the beach. Study the tent. White. Canvas. Like the kind of thing you see at a garden party or an outdoor wedding reception. There’s a table underneath it. Set for lunch. So maybe I’m right? Maybe we’ve misunderstood the intentions of todays’ meeting?

  Ha. Good one, Megan.

  And two people.

  “My father,” I say. “He’s sitting in one of the chairs. And... a woman.”

  “Who?” Johnny asks. Cutting the engine.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before. But my contact for this job.” I pause. This job. This was the job, wasn’t it? Bring Johnny here. I don’t know that for sure, but I feel it to be true. This was my job. Delivering him to this woman. “My contact was a woman. I’ll be able to recognize her voice when she speaks.”

  “Let me see,” Johnny says, reaching for the binoculars. He peers through them.

  “Do you know her?”

  “No. I mean, she looks a little familiar, so maybe we’ve met. But I don’t know her.”

  “Well. I think the drones are getting anxious. Shall we then?”

  “Megan,” he says.

  “No, Johnny. The time to discuss is over. I’m going to do whatever it takes to stop this. But I can’t be responsible for the deaths of children. Remember what you told me last night?

  He squints his eyes at me.

  “That you’re gonna put a stop to it. You said that, remember? You’re the guy who’s gonna stop it. And you still are. One day the headline will read ‘Johnny saves the world’. I just know it. And you told me choose something. Remember? Just grow up and choose something.”

  “Yeah,” he says. His voice low and hoarse. “But—”

  “Well, I have. I’ve made up my mind. And I choose you. So get my father out of here, take him somewhere safe, and help him find a cure to this awful thing we’ve created. Please.” I beg him with my eyes. “Please don’t make me responsible for this.”

  He frowns and swallows hard. “I won’t. I promise.”

  I nod at him. “Then let’s do it.”

  He picks up the radio, depresses the button, and says, “We’re going in.”

  When he releases the button we hear a static-y, “Copy that,” in response. Logan’s voice. Ready to come in and save us.

  It’s just… he’s not going to save all of us.

  I shake myself out of the building self-pity. Because I deserve this ending. I did this. My father and I both, but of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s dispensable. He is the brilliant scientist and I’m just… no one, really. A girl who got lucky with some rats and gave the Way their fountain of youth.

  I can’t even think about all the atrocities that have been committed in the name of my discovery. All the people I’ve hurt with that one willful act of rebellion.

  My father warned me, though. Didn’t he? He told me that one day, if I didn’t do what I was told, I’d be marched off a ship, and onto an island, and my name would be recorded into a database.

  And here I am. Walking off a yacht, onto an island, right into the waiting hands of the Way.

  After I saved the life of that rat in that trial my father started letting me do more in the lab. And gradually, over the course of a few years, as we discovered that the treatment for the rats was working, he told me what the Way really was.

  You can call it a cult if you want. A secret society. A militia. They all fit.

  But his words were, “A diabolical, evil global organization that wants to rule the world.”

  And I believed him.

  He was very careful as he let me in on more and more secrets. More and more responsibility. Probably thought I might turn him in if he didn’t wake me up slowly.

  But eventually, the day came when he told me his plan to kill the Way. Cut of its head with a special drug he had convinced the Leadership they needed.

  By this time the rat had lived almost seven years. I was nearly twenty-one and showed no signs of leaving him. I loved him. I still love him. And I wanted to work with him on his project.

  The project was this:

  The Way leadership was being given a special drug. They were told that it was preparation for the anti-aging drug based off my rats.

  But that’s not what it was.

  It was a pretty horrible man-made disease that rewrites the RNA genome so that certain proteins are expressed and turned on. The consequences are not dramatic at first. It takes several months to kill someone with this disease. But you can give them a cure of sor
ts. Every month or so is all it takes. If they get this special injection once a month then the protein doesn’t work and they never get sick.

  That’s what my father has been giving them every month for the past several years. Not some preparation for anti-aging treatment.

  If they go longer than eight weeks without this special injection the effects are irreversible and they die a slow, very painful, very horrific death.

  The special injection isn’t really a cure. It’s a temporary fix and nothing more. Once you change a person’s RNA it’s not possible to change it back. At least not easily. We’re years away from that kind of medicine.

  Every single one of the Way Leadership has been infected with this horrible disease my father and I created.

  This was how we planned on taking them down for good.

  Poof. Wipe them all out in one go.

  Well, several months. But still, that’s pretty effective.

  All these years we’ve been biding our time. Waiting for the perfect moment to unleash our plan.

  I never really understood why we waited.

  Until now.

  He knew. He knew they infected the kids. And yeah, sure. He is the Mad Scientist of Osprey Cay, but even my father’s evil has limits it seems.

  I bought into this plan because I never forgot that day when my father shook me by the shoulders and said they would hurt me one day if I did something wrong.

  I didn’t want to be one of the people who disappeared.

  And besides, we were only going to kill the leadership, right? They deserved it. That’s what they would tell me if I ever stepped out of line. That I deserved it.

  They deserved it.

  I still believe that.

  But the kids… the kids don’t deserve it. And if I had known that the leaders who were taking our drug were giving it to the kids, then I would’ve said no.

  Johnny and I are alike in that respect. He thinks, given the chance, he’d have chosen to be the good guy.

  Me too. I want to think that.

  And that’s why I’m going to offer myself up to the Way today.

  They take me to keep my father in line. Keep the treatment drug flowing so no one dies a horrible death, but they let him go. That’s my deal. They let him go and maybe—just maybe— my mad scientist of a father can find a way to fix this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - JOHNNY

  I take Megan’s hand as we walk up the beach. Just staring at the woman sitting under the tent. Trying to figure out where I’ve seen her before. One of the money-making ceremonies?

  Maybe.

  The Kane residence?

  Possibly.

  But I don’t have time to think about it because there’s half a dozen drones weaving through the air all around me, Megan’s father is not looking too good, and if I don’t figure out something quick, I’m going to be leaving this island in a few minutes and Megan will be left behind.

  The woman stands at our approach. She’s wearing a white linen suit, dark sunglasses, and her blonde hair is artfully pulled up in a fashionable style that would be home at any of the various garden parties I’ve had to attend over the years.

  She spreads her hands wide and smiles at me. “Mr. Boston. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

  I side-eye Megan, unsure if we’re supposed to exchange pleasantries when we’re about to threaten the lives of thousands of people.

  “How was your trip?” the woman asks.

  “My trip?” I’m confused.

  “Your trip here. How was your night? Did you have a good night?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You sent us a drone last night. Threatened to torture and kill our loved ones.”

  She sits back down. Then claps her hands and a server appears from the maintenance shed behind her with a tray of drinks. “Thank you, Samuel,” she quietly says as he places the drinks at all four settings around the table.

  “Please,” the women says. “Have a seat. And a drink. It’s on us.” And her smile is big. Almost wolfish and cunning.

  I look at Megan. “What do you want to do?”

  “Oh, that’s adorable,” the woman says, placing her hand over her heart. “You asked for her opinion. See, Monty?” She looks at Megan’s father. “What did I tell you? You should have learned to trust me by now.”

  Monty doesn’t answer because I’m pretty sure his jaw has been wired shut. His mouth and neck are swollen and red and the concentrated breaths he’s taking through his nose are labored and loud.

  “Daddy?” Megan says. “Are you OK?”

  She starts to walk forward but I hold her hand and tug her back. “One second, Megan.” Because he’s not OK. And I don’t want to get any closer to these people until I understand what’s happening.

  “Aww, see,” the woman says. And then she sighs. “You like her. Don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Megan. You like her.”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt her. And I’m not leaving here without her either. I’d just like to make that clear.”

  “Johnny—” Megan starts to protest.

  “No,” I say. Gritting my teeth, not even looking at her. “It’s not up for discussion.” And then I turn my attention back to the woman. Who is now looking at me with an expression of… awe.

  Or… something. I’m really not sure what’s happening right now.

  “Mmm,” she says. “Yes. It’s definitely taken hold. Mr. Boston, would you like to sit so we can have a chat?”

  “Look,” Megan says, “I will be the one making the decisions today, OK? So you can just have your little chat with me.”

  The woman glances at her and gives her a tight smile. “Miss Machette. We’ll get to you in a moment. But right now we’re here to discuss Mr. Boston’s service record.”

  “What?” we both say at the same time.

  “I’m sorry.” Just me this time. “Did you just say service record?”

  “Yes, Mr. Boston.” She flicks a wrist in the air. “You’re being promoted. Why else would we be here?”

  And that’s when all the things that I thought made sense don’t make any sense at all.

  “Hold up,” Megan says. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

  And there’s my girl. Let the F-bombs flow, baby. If ever there was an appropriate time for that, it’s right now.

  “Because my father has been beaten to within an inch of his life. He can barely hold himself upright in that chair. And last night some psycho drone flyer sent us an invitation with video of said beatings. And, just to drive the point home, some Hollywood special effect of Johnny’s family and friends being blown up. So cut the crap, lady. And start. Fucking. Talking.”

  The woman just continues to beam that tight smile at Megan.

  Then she looks at me and says, “Mr. Boston. I would like you and Miss Machette to take a seat, please. I understand you don’t care much for ceremony, but I will have to insist this one last time.”

  She nods her head at the two chairs pushed up to the table directly in front of Megan and I.

  “Come on,” I whisper to Megan. Not that whispering matters. The drones are still hovering around us and I’m pretty sure they’ve got the best long-range microphones attached to their underbellies. She resists a little. Planting her feet in the sand. But I tug her forward and she relents.

  We thought we had this whole encounter planned out. She would spew threats, make demands, trade places with her father. Then try and make me leave her here so I could take him to safety and… find a cure for what they’ve done.

  But I’m starting to get the feeling we’re not here because of some diabolical plan of her father’s. In fact, right now, I have no idea at all why we’re here. Except this woman—who still looks so very, very familiar—wants to discuss my promotion.

  We take our seats and the whole time this woman’s gaze is directed only at me.

  Like she has no concern about Megan at all.

  “W
ell,” I say. “We’re sitting. You wanna fill us in on what’s happening?”

  “First, I would like to apologize for the dramatic nature of our… invitation last night. We needed to make sure you showed up and so such drama was warranted. But I assure you, your family and friends are fine. And will remain fine. If you choose the right path here today.”

  “You tortured my father!” Megan spits. “He’s not fine.”

  The woman glares at her. “He’s still alive isn’t he?”

  I squeeze Megan’s hand. Signaling her to be quiet and listen before things get worse.

  The woman sucks in a deep breath and lets it out very slowly. Nearly silent. And then she snaps her fingers and says, “Samuel. The folio, please.”

  Samuel appears, once again holding a tray. But this time there’s a black folder on it. Wrapped up in a pretty satin ribbon. He places the folio in front of the woman and backs off.

  She’s still looking at me. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your job. Banking. It’s… difficult. Your father had a hard time too. I hear he went insane in the end.”

  I’m suddenly hot with anger. I want to scream at this bitch. I want to say, Yeah. He went insane doing the bidding of this crazy cult.

  But I don’t. Because I was the one who killed him. Not them.

  “But you’ve handled it well, Johnny. Much better than anyone expected. You kept your nose clean. Stayed out of other people’s business. Didn’t get caught up in drama. For the most part, that is.”

  I’m not sure what that last part means, but an image of me helping Logan escape the mob flashes to mind.

  But she’s right. I didn’t get involved. I hid up in my tower trying to pretend none of it was happening.

  “Of course, there was that little uprising at the Kane estate a few weeks ago. And Brooke Alder is back, which you did not report. And it’s clear you came down here to find Charlotte Kane. But all in all, Mr. Boston. You’ve done an exemplary job. Your brothers are a mess. One an out-of-control addict, the other well… let’s just be frank here. Joey Boston is quite the little deviant. I’m sorry to say—and let’s be clear, this isn’t my personal opinion—but polyamorous relationships are not what the Way is looking for. Neither of them will ever fit in with our organization.”