by Lara Hues
Be rational, I urged myself. Be rational, I pleaded. Nothing about this place was rational. My phone was broken, Shardul was back with very little explanation, and a stranger took me alone to a back room to interrogate me about my life and my…sexual history. My eyes stung. I ran into the bathroom and shut the door. The lock felt flimsy as I turned it. A tiger would have no problem breaking in and crushing my bones. For all I knew, the man in the pressed pants could break in without a problem.
My room was in shambles and my brain mirrored it. My sobs echoed in the tiny bathroom and though they indicated weakness, the sound of it reassured me. I was alive. I was safe. My bones were not broken.
I had to calm down. I tried to steady my breathing. But I had to cry first.
I cried for a solid half hour until I decided that I was truly safe. I came to this island because I wanted to prove to my mother and to myself that I was an adult. I had to start acting like one.
Finding Richy was my next step. That was reasonable. Nothing else was. Walking with caution, I left my room in search of Richy. I passed a few workers who looked at me curiously and then continued what they were doing. Breathe, I ordered. Just breathe.
The curve of the hallway, which obscured the view of anything more than 25 feet in front of me, had never annoyed or frightened me the other times I walked them, although, I hadn’t walked through it many times and each time that I had, I’d been escorted.
Breathing heavily with my hands in fists, I speed-walked down the thinly, carpeted floor not looking up to see whomever I was passing. Everyone was at least twice my weight, and any one of them could have been the intruder. I was frightened, yes, but I was also livid. My personal living space had been invaded and disturbed- no- destroyed.
Last I'd seen Richy, he was in the Observatory, but when I got there, a locked metal panel was over the controls, the windows were shut, and Richy was nowhere in sight. The sun was shining brightly and invitingly into the few windows that hadn’t been covered, but I didn’t seize the opportunity to gaze through the glass. Not even the possibility of catching sight of the majestic cats could deter my angry search for justice. Especially after what I'd seen them do.
I threw open the door at the end of the room and began my walk down a hallway that I hadn’t previously explored. Most of the numbered doors were locked. "Of course," I murmured angrily.
Ahead I heard music playing and low grumbling of men’s chatter. My investigation brought me to an open door, and I stepped inside assertively, feeling confident that Richy was near.
Before me was a weight room filled with giant men lifting tons of weights and I mean that literally. Not more than ten feet in front of me I saw a man benching (unspotted), what had to been thousands of pounds. Aghast at what I saw, I stood immobile in the doorframe, staring truly dumbfounded for once.
Thick solid barbells loaded with plates marked in hundreds were lifted casually mid-conversation. Pull-up bars that were too thick for me to even put my hand around were securely bolted to the walls, and the enormous men with their enormous hands easily pulled themselves up and down. No one wore gloves to prevent blisters, and I am certain it’s because gloves don’t come in their size.
The air was replete with the reek of sweat–such potent sweat coming from all of these men. Wait–perhaps they were not all men. An individual leg-pressing the weight of an SUV may have been a woman. I took a step forward with curiosity, but was hampered by the odor in the air and the fear that returned and was multiplying in my heart.
Sudden cursing drew my attention to the treadmills which were thump, thumping as the massive men jogged and caused the walking board to bow and bend. Only one treadmill was running now, two were pushed into the corner only barely recognizable because they looked more like scrap metal, and the fourth had just snapped in half. I could have used one of these treadmills rather than run on the beach. I was glad I didn’t have to since half of the reason for the run was because I sought isolation. Was I not allowed in this room?
The man on the treadmill got madder. From his mouth spewed a slur of swear words that would have left my mother covering my ears and reprimanding him for his expletives. He punched the display screen and it crumbled like a stale piece of bread, pieces of plastic and thin metal falling to the sweat-soaked floor. He ripped the side bar off and broke it over his leg, and a lump the size of a ping pong ball rose in my throat. I cowered against the wall involuntarily.
Any one of these men would be so out of the norm in any other weight room, but here I was the anomaly. Watching this livid man tear the treadmill apart filled me with cold, chilling fear. It was someone like this, someone with this kind of strength and completely irrational rage that had come into my room.
I needed to find Richy because I realized how horribly vulnerable of a situation I was in. Somebody didn’t want me here, and it would be all too easy for me to get injured.
Walking rapidly down the hall, managing to keep my panting to a minimum, I glanced into an open room finally seeing a familiar and much less intimidating face.
"Shardul," I said, walking into the room. "We need to talk. I have so many questions-" I moved to run into the safety of his arms. Or at least close enough to smell him.
"What’s wrong?" Bryce said, stopping me in my tracks. He sat in the opposite chair. "Questions about what?"
I froze. Apparently, I couldn’t talk to Shardul yet. "I’m looking for Richy. Do you know where he is?"
Shardul stood and set the book down immediately. "You sound distressed. Are you okay?" I wanted to reach for his hand. To feel his touch and know that I was okay. But that would be wildly inappropriate. It would expose our past and there was no telling if Shardul even wanted me to touch him.
"Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just, someone broke into my room." I was only going to tell Richy, but I knew it wasn’t Shardul and I knew it wasn’t Bryce because he had been with me almost all morning.
"Oh," Shardul looked around. "Did you have any firearms in there?"
"Firearms?" Why was he asking me about guns? "No, why would I have any firearms in my room? I was on a plane yesterday! You think they would have let me bring a handgun in my carryon?" I shouted, losing control. "Why, was someone looking for a firearm?"
"Did you have any GH10 in there?"
"No," His accusations were getting me angrier by the second. "I’m not packing and dealing! I just had my personal stuff like clothes in there. Is someone looking for drugs?"
"I don’t know." He shrugged. "I imagine a lot of guys are."
"Why don’t you know? You suggested it." I tried to keep my voice calm but it too accurately reflected how I felt inside. The words rushed from my lips like water breaking through a dam.
"There are three great mysteries, air to a bird, water to a fish and mankind to himself," Shardul recited.
"Come on Shar, she doesn’t need your proverbs. She needs her dad." Bryce stood. "I’ll take you to him." He clutched his side and I noticed his arms shaking.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, somewhat accusatorily.
“Stomach cramps,” he shot back. “It’s fine. Let’s find Richy.”
"I’ll come too," Shardul added.
"What do you mean by that proverb?" I said to Shardul, my voice not so calm.
He turned to me, grinned, and then said, "I can tell that you are worked up by this. All I mean is that I don’t know who did it or why. Mankind is a mystery." He stopped at a door that read ‘Keep Out-3’ and pointed to the sign.
"Your father is in there. My card won’t open it." Shardul lifted his keycard. It read Limited Access. "You can try yours. It is in my best judgment that you inform him of the mishap."
Then Bryce asked, "Did you lock your door?" I looked at his eyes. They appeared watery. I turned back to Shardul.
"No, I didn’t want to bring the key with me on the run," I said defensively.
"I see," was all Shardul said.
"We better go, Shar," Bryce said, and Shardul li
fted his eyebrows apologetically before walking away.
I didn’t want to go in the restricted area, and I didn’t want Richy to get upset with me, but my room had been intentionally trashed, and surely he would forgive me for neglecting to lock my door.
All the doors were locked, but they opened to my keycard. Then I found one that said "Richard Speer." If he didn’t want me in there, he wouldn’t have given me a key to unlock it. I swiped my card and the door beeped as it unlocked. I pushed the large door open and found what had to be his private office.
Sitting on the table in plain sight were four small bottles holding a liquid with a brownish hue. Beside them was a pile of syringes with fat, long needles.
Last time I’d been stuck with a needle was the immunizations I had to get before going to Panama. The rabies one burned my shoulder and they administered it three times. The pain was tremendous. Nothing could make me willingly inject myself on a daily basis.
Moving over to the table for a closer look, I found, open on the laptop, an email from Alec.
Richy,
The guys are getting antsy with the inspection so soon. I’d up the oxycodone and diazepam in GH10 if I were you. Can’t risk any of them jumping ship. Side effects still include increased aggression, mood swings, and high blood pressure. Anxious as you are for this FDA inspection to be over.
Stay strong,
-Alec
I read the email twice. So wait a minute, GH10 was addictive? No, it couldn’t be. If it was addictive, they wouldn’t be adding oxycodone. That’s a painkiller. Did they have to add the oxycodone to subdue intense pain? I’d had sore muscles before. Maybe growing that strong that fast, was terribly agonizing. I don't know about Diazepam, but I had a pretty strong hunch that both drugs were highly addictive. Richy can’t have been intentionally lacing the drugs to make the men dependent on them. Could he?
The word Inbox on the left of the screen was bold. One new message. I clicked and read the subject line: "Awaiting FDA Inspection re: hereditary transmission."
I could easily read the letter and then check unread when I was done but something else caught my eye, something I’d wondered about for some time.
One of the folders in his email was titled. "Crissa".
It was a complete invasion of privacy and I could have just asked him what happened between him and his ex-wife. Somehow it seemed that prying into his files secretly was more polite than straight up asking him if he was the dead-beat dad my mother accused him of being.
A single click took me to the last email she sent him.
Richy,
No, Amanda isn’t doing any better. She’s in no position to travel anywhere. I love you, you know this. You’ve always known this. Together we have worked through so many trials and challenges. But you know I won’t come back to you. I can’t. Amanda is too important to me. She’s not your damn science experiment! She’s your daughter. Once you figure that out, we can talk.
-Crissa
All the unkind things my mother said about Richy being a horrible husband and father seemed true. Had he really been treating his daughter as a science experiment? With GH10?
I had no right to be nosing through Richy’s files. I was a guest on his island. My privacy had been so recently violated, and I knew how terrible it felt. How dare I do the same to Richy? But I couldn't very well ask him. A bit unwillingly, I'd obeyed my mom's counsel. I didn't trust Richy. Not completely anyway.
I stepped back from the computer, re-opened the email from Alec, and entered the hallway.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to go far down the hallway to find Richy, and I made a point of not nosing around anymore.
"Kat, what are you doing?" He turned towards me, his voice surprised, but he didn’t hurry to hide anything behind his back, not that it would have been difficult as his massive silhouette blocked everything behind him anyway.
"Someone broke into my room--" and that was enough to send him running back to my room. And when I say running. I mean sprinting.
Sprinting like the tigers before they consumed the deer.
Chapter Ten: Cable Car
When I caught up with Richy, he stood in my bedroom positively fuming. His breathing sounded like a vacuum being shut on and off at two second intervals. He growled in rage and threw the pieces of the lamp to the floor again, breaking the bits even smaller. All of the pictures were taken down, most of the frames broken, and even the bathroom had been thoroughly destroyed in the apparent search for something.
Richy growled again and punched the wall, making a huge dent. I jumped back, adrenaline telling me to flee.
“Dammit!” he said, pounding the wall again. “One of these bastards is gonna pay for this! I’ll kill him!”
His language and demeanor scared the living daylights out of me. I’d never, ever seen anyone so angry.
“Stay here!” Richy barked before storming off.
My chest rose and fell quickly as my mind raced, trying to understand the situation. I was nervous and upset. I was winded and confused. Placing my tiny-looking fist in the large hole in the wall where Richy had punched it, I realized my hands were shaking. I had brought nothing of value, so there couldn’t be anything important missing. Richy had been the one telling me to keep the room locked, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Shardul knew. Maybe Richy had been keeping guns or drugs stashed in my room.
I'd previously assumed that all of the staff members here had access to the drug and that’s why many of them were so large, but maybe it wasn’t like that. Maybe the staff members themselves were funding the project in the purchase of GH10 from Richy. Again, I found myself accusing Richy, and I reminded myself of my mother. Truth was, I didn’t know how to feel about Richy. My doubt of him likely came from her and the frequency of her belittling and condemning him and his behavior.
To get my mind on something else, I began picking up my clothes and putting them back into the drawers. I shook out some shorts that had shards of glass in them and placed them in the drawer hoping not to get my legs cut later. Nearly all my clothes were put away when there was a knock on the open door.
The familiar hazel eyes of Shardul reassured me. I kept picking up.
"Richy has asked me to come and pick up while you get some lunch," he stated stoically.
"Oh," I didn’t want Shardul to have to pick up the mess. He was, after all, the one person I knew to be innocent of the crime.
He then noticed the hole in the wall. "I take it he was upset."
"Yeah, wouldn’t you be?"
"Of course," Shardul looked to the door. We were alone.
"Tell me, what are you doing here? Have you just been hanging out at my uncle’s research lab rubbing shoulders with important scientists? If you didn’t run away to get a job here, what are you doing here?”
"Kathryn, this place it’s not what it seems. You can’t trust things you see. You can’t trust Richy." He reached for my hand but I pulled away. I don't know why. I'd actually wanted him to touch me.
"He was just real mad for a minute but when he calms down he will patch up the wall and apologize for it." The phrase ‘heightened aggression’ from Alec’s email came to my mind.
"Hmm," Shardul obviously did not agree. "Will the crow, after bathing, become a stork?"
Again, he was reciting proverbs to me and I hurried to think of a good reply. "No, but sometimes…sometimes storks get dirty too." I stood and struggled to maintain composure.
"Kathryn, wait. I need to tell you some things. We shouldn’t be here. We need you to help us. All of us--"
"Shar!" Bryce said, stepping over some of the smashed lamp. Our private moment was over. Bryce’s eyes weren’t watery anymore. His movements seemed more deliberate. Even his voice was more controlled than it had been. "Wow, Shar, you sure know how to make a mess of things when you get mad. Not that I’ve ever seen it."
Shardul just smiled weakly. Bryce bent down and picked up some of my jewelry which had been thrown underneath th
e bed. As he reached out his arm, I saw a gauze pad taped to his arm, right over his enormous bicep.
While it was obvious looking at him, that he was taking steroids, it still surprised me to see the gauze on his arms. Especially since I hadn’t seen it earlier.
“At least whoever broke in didn’t take this," Bryce said. He placed the fistful of jewelry on the counter. Shardul looked over and smiled, this time genuinely.
"That’s a nice bangle," he said. He complimented his own taste.
Up until now I’d forgotten that I’d packed the red and gold bangle he’d given me in Panama. I don’t even know why I’d brought it. Or maybe I just didn't want to accept the reason why.
"Um, thanks," I said. I slipped it on.
"Where did you get it?"
"A friend." I said through clenched teeth.
"Don’t forget that," he said, folding some of my shirts.
"Richy says it’s time to eat," Bryce escorted me out of the room to the cafeteria, which, upon my arrival I found to be unsettlingly quiet.
Even though I had done nothing wrong or rude, I felt that many of the staff members, who had previously smiled and seemed kind to me, were suddenly irritated. All of lunch had been quiet and a few men scowled at me as I walked down the hall with Richy to my room. It felt much the way I imagined a ship would feel if the crew was feeling mutinous. It made me grateful to have Richy there with me as a protection.
I remembered hearing about steroids increasing aggression, and while at the time the data seemed inconclusive, I was beginning to have my doubts with the way my room looked, how Richy punched the wall, and the unkind glances that I wasn’t imagining. Perhaps there was some truth to their aggressive effects. Besides, the email from Alec made the aggression side effect rather indisputable.
Lunch had been good enough, but my stomach felt just as queasy now as it did before eating. I sat on my bed, looking around the room. It looked good; the clothes were all folded and placed in the dresser, the pictures were straightened, and the rugs were laid out flat again. But the lamp was gone and there wasn’t one to replace it. Its absence reminded me of the privacy invasion that happened only hours prior. It wasn’t hard to tell that Richy was very upset about the incident. He had eaten quickly and rushed off trying to figure out what was going on.