Acceleration

by Lin Larson

  Sam remembered so clearly. Sean had sighed and said he didn’t care anymore, and that he was just happy that his big brother was fishing with him. Sam had laughed and said, “All you need to do is ask.” But Sean never did ask again, and Sam, being older, didn’t really play with him a lot. There was, however, an unspoken agreement that Sam would be there if Sean ever needed him.

  Sam never felt that close to his brother again, until the hospital ordeal, and that was years later. And then it was Sam needing Sean. “I owe him big time,” Sam spoke aloud to himself.

  Sam rubbed his eyes, he was very tired.

  All of a sudden, there was the house. He’d arrived. The family house, now Sean’s, was dark. A huge maple tree secluded the old colonial homestead from the eyes of strangers. The home was occasionally Sean’s refuge from the material world. Of course, he also had his home from his marriage, and guests usually visited his apartment at the lab.

  Sam started to unlock the door, but it wasn’t necessary. It swung open easily on its hinges and rocked in the late November breeze. A figure hovered in the shadows. Sam tensed as he squinted to make out the shape. He seemed to be resting in a chair in the corner.

  “Sean, that you?” Sam started for the lights.

  “No, no light,” a voice softly said. It was Sean.

  “Okay, Sean.” Sam pulled a chair up to face him. “I’m here. Can I help?”

  There was silence.

  “Tell me what to do, Sean? I want to help.” Sam listened, but the only answer was the sound of the door flopping on its hinges in the wind. Sam reached over and put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Sean? Let me help.”

  Sean began to whimper. “I’m sick…very sick.”

  “I know. I’m here. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here,” said Sam softly.

  Sean started crying softly. “I gotta take my medicine.” Hands trembled as he pulled out a syringe and a vile from his pocket.

  Sam put his hand gently upon the hand of his brother. “Please don’t take it. That’s what is making you sick. Let me keep it for you. It will be safe.”

  “NO!” Sean screamed out and pushed Sam’s hand away. “It’s mine not yours!” Suddenly, he shoved Sam and his chair backwards.

  “What the hell!” Sam stammered as he climbed off the floor. “Sean, give it to me. I’m here to help. I care about you.”

  “You can’t have it. It’s mine. YOU GET YOUR OWN!” Sean screamed out as he injected himself.

  Sam was stunned and just stood still staring. His brother was definitely the man in the journal. He shook away the image. Sam reached out and grabbed the needle protruding from Sean’s arm. Sean looked at it and began to whimper.

  “Sean,” Sam said softly. “Please stop taking your injections. Your medicine is killing you. Listen to me. I would never lie to you. I want you to stay alive. The medicine won’t do it. Trust me. You helped me at the military hospital. You helped me to live again. Now I want to help you. We’re brothers, I care about you. Trust me. Stop taking your medicine. You are poisoning yourself.”

  Sean rubbed his arm and stood trembling. “You hurt me. Nobody is supposed to hurt me. I’m special. I’m a genius.”

  Suddenly Sam found himself hurling towards the wall and smashing into it. Sam wasn’t prepared for Sean’s surge of strength. They hadn’t fought physically in years, not since they had discovered that they could truly hurt each other. He remembered seeing Sean with a bloody nose that he had given him when they were wrestling. He was shocked and vowed never to fight him again. Now Sam was the victim of brotherly aggression. He didn’t like it but knew it wasn’t the real Sean.

  “Who are you?” Sean yelled and lunged.

  Sam was taller and more physically fit than his brother, but the look on Sean’s face was dangerous. “I’m your brother, the one who went fishing with you, the one you held in the hospital. You saved me from severe depression. Because of you, I have a life again. I owe you a lot. Let me help.”

  Sean paused and a confused expression raced across his face. “I remember him, not you.” He cried out and clutched his head.

  “Sean, please let me help you.” Sam reached out.

  “Don’t touch me! They told me not to talk to anyone. My work is mine. My medicine is

  mine!”

  “Yes, it is yours. Sit down here, Sean, and tell me about them. Who are they?” Sam implored.

  “Perhaps he means us,” a voice spoke coldly from the doorway. Sam turned and watched as three men in suits walked into the room. “We were correct. We figured that he’d be here,” the tall one continued. He lit a cigarette and threw the match on the floor. “Nice house kids.”

  “Kids? How flattering. Now, get out of our nice house… gentlemen.” Despite his bravado, Sam was feeling uneasy.

  “This really won’t do,” the small man spoke in a shrill voice as he chewed on a tooth pick.

  “Do, for what? Get out,” Sam was angry now. They had invaded his privacy, his family home. “Tall man, Shrill, and you, Tatoo, get out.

  “We just need your crazy brilliant brother, and then we leave.” The third man with tattoos all over his face spoke. “And don’t call me Tattoo.”

  “Sean’s staying here. He’s ill,” Sam replied as he tried to pull back his temper.

  “We own your brother. We’re here to collect,” Tall Man spoke carefully.

  “I thought Dr. Mekka owned him, if anyone could own a person.” Sam was confused.

  “Mekka is a desperate puppet.” There was that third man, Shrill, again.

  “We’ve said enough,” Tattooed boomed. “Face the wall.”

  Sam stared at them uneasily and rocked forward, ready to spring into action. “Why?”, he said cautiously.

  “Acceleration says why,” Shrill hissed.

  “Acceleration?” Sam retorted quickly. “What is that?”

  “Shut up,” Tattooed was enjoying his position of boss. “Face the wall.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sam started to speak, when suddenly a chair was hurled into their midst. “What the…”

  “RUN WITH ME, BROTHER!” Sean shouted as he rushed out the door.

  The thugs were a short breath behind Sean, who paused and kicked Tall Man in the knees and pitched Tattoo over his shoulder. Shrill held a gun, but Sean was wildly possessed as he ran towards it. Shrill was too stunned to fire or perhaps he knew that he shouldn’t. Sean hurled Shrill into a maple tree and then screamed madly at Tall Man as he picked him up effortlessly and tossed him into a second tree. Then all of a sudden, Sean stopped his rampage. He stood dazed and still.

  Sam caught up and punched the rising Tattoo out cold and breathlessly looked at Sean. “Wow, you were amazing!”

  “Amazing, yes,” Sean said woodenly. The fire had gone out.

  “You hurt?” Sam gasped.

  “You hurt?” Sean repeated.

  “No,” Sam turned and glanced at Sean’s now still body, standing beside him.

  “No,” Sean mimicked.

  Sam felt an overwhelming sorrow, as if a fist had smashed into his soul. His brown eyes glistened. “Sean, get in the car. I’ll drive.”

  Sean woodenly walked to the car, got in, and stared ahead. They drove, neither speaking. Much later Sam noted that Sean had curled himself into a ball on the seat and had slipped mercifully into sleep.

  “Oh, Sean, why did you do this to yourself?” Sam whispered painfully. “I wonder, what this Acceleration is. Is it just a bad drug or is there more? And where the hell are we going?” Sam shook his head and started laughing. “How did our world get so complicated and crazy?”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Sean,” Sam stopped the car and turned towards his brother. “We’re going to Caroline’s house. It’s the only place left to turn. They won’t think we’d go back there. We can hide you there and get you off the drugs you’re taking.”

  Sean was staring straight ahead and not moving.

  “Do you hear me and understand?” Sam conti
nued. “There are other things I need to know. You have to help me out. What is Acceleration?”

  Sean began examining his hands and mumbling.

  Sam spoke again. “What is Acceleration? I need to know that. Also who were those men and what do they plan to do with you.” Sam got out of his car and crossed to Sean’s side. He opened the door and knelt beside him as he clasped Sean’s shaking hands. “Sean, I need to know the answers. Clear your head.”

  Sean raised his head and seemed to focus. “It’s what I am,” he said.

  “What you are? Is this your experiment? Who are those people that want you?” Sam said.

  “They want what I know. I’m very smart, you see. I am smarter than you and everybody. They try to make it work with others, but I am smarter, you see.” Sam clutched his head and whimpered. “You see you see you see.”

  “Don’t cry, please. You are smart,” Sam was baffled, but he’d play along.

  “Are you my brother, Sammy? Do you want to see my pictures?” Sean was getting more childish by the minute.

  “Yes, sure,” Sam was feeling frustrated. This was leading nowhere.

  “Lost. Want. Me. Give me?” Sean seems to be at toddler stage, Sam thought sadly.

  “Where did you leave them last, Sean?”

  Sean grinned. “Book. Mine. Pretty. Me write. Num-ber-s.”

  Sam was thinking hard. The pictures, maybe they were of his scientific discoveries. “Sean, can you make those numbers and pictures again?”

  “Num..ber..s.” Sean’s face lit up with another bright smile, as he nodded his head.

  “That’s wonderful, Sean.” Sam excitedly searched for a pen in his glove compartment and handed it to Sean. “This will draw. You can make the numbers on the back of this envelope. There are more paper envelopes in this box, that I had placed in the glove compartment. I forgot that I bought them and had left them in the car. I’ll find even more paper, if you need it. I like that you can do this.”

  “Okay,” said Sean.

  But the numbers that grew on the page were childish scratches. They seemed like nothing to Sam.

  He stepped back in discouragement and walked over to a nearby tree. He leaned against it and exhaled sadly. He then sat down in the grass as he stared at the car, watching quietly, as his brother giggled and continued to draw his pre-school pictures on envelopes.

  What should he do? Should he retrieve the journals with the notes and take Sean out of the state? He’d then have other scientists who could try reversing the drug process, or was that impossible? Should he destroy the notes? Will Sean survive this experimental poison and come back or was it too late?

  Sam lay back. If he could just close his eyes for a minute, maybe he could make a decision.” That thought had barely formed, when Sam fell asleep.

  #

  Sam woke suddenly. Sean was standing over him. He was angry. He had also aged mentally, but his skin was sallow. Even in the moonlight, Sean looked unfriendly and sick.

  “Where is my medicine?” Sean demanded with eyes flashing in anger.

  “I don’t have any, but you don’t need it anymore. It makes you sick. You are better already and without it,” Sam said as he stood up.

  “I need it now.” Sean stomped his foot.

  “All right, Sean. Get in the car. We’ll drive to our old family’s house instead and look for it. It’s not rented right now, I think, and it’s still furnished. Maybe you left some there, and hopefully, we’ll be safe there, for a brief time anyway.” Sam quickly walked to the other side of the car.

  Sean slowly climbed onto the car seat and sat stiffly, anger seething.

  After some time, they reached their destination. Sean rose, no longer upset, just sleepy. He was behaving somewhat older, but also seemed to be pouting. The house was locked. They found an unlocked window and crawled through.

  Once inside, Sean hurried to a table and planted himself and his pen and envelopes before him. He began to write and draw furiously. Suddenly he spoke softly, “Need more paper, sir.”

  “Right,” Sam answered. Bewildered but excited, Sam grabbed a stack of paper from a desk and handed it to Sean’s eager hands. Sam sat back and watched. This was his brother who now felt like a stranger. But he would always be his brother. Maybe the writing would bring him back along with answers. Sam hoped beyond hope that he was right.

  Suddenly Sam thought of Caroline and sat straight up. Where was she? Oh God, I hope she’s all right. I left her on her own. Doctor Mekka wouldn’t hurt his own daughter, would he? He sat back. No, she had to be fine. Stop worrying.

  #

  Sam was dreaming nightmares of a screaming Sean. He sat up suddenly, feeling cold and disoriented. Then he saw Sean, still writing. Relieved, Sam looked at his watch. “Had it really been two hours?” He gazed back at Sean who was sweating profusely.

  “Are you tired, Sean?” Sam got up and walked quietly over to Sean.

  Sean stopped writing and looked intently at his papers. “Yes. I am very tired.” He walked to the couch and closed his eyes. “Sammy?”

  Was that really Sean calling him by name? Was he returning to normal? Sam walked over to him eagerly and sat at the foot of the couch. “Yes, oh Sean, it’s good to have you back.”

  Through closed eyes, Sean spoke softly. “You’ve been a good brother to me. I’m sorry I got you into this. It wasn’t supposed to be so difficult and horrible.”

  “I understand. It wasn’t all your fault. Just rest.”

  “I’m fine now,” Sean whispered as he closed his eyes. He looked so young now, lying there. The lines that had deepened in his face over the last few days seemed to have vanished. He’s my dear brother again. Sam found an afghan blanket and covered him. He started to cross to a chair. Suddenly he was stopped by a terrible feeling. He stared at Sean as he felt his forehead. It was cool, no fever. That’s good. Then his fingers slid to his pulse. “No, oh no!” There was no pulse. Sam pulled back stunned and fell against the table.

  Sam starred at his brother in anguish. “Oh, no. You can’t die. You’re getting better. You’re going to be just fine. I need you. We just connected with each other again, after all these years.” Sam rushed over and shook his brother furiously. “Stop it. Look at me. What the hell are you doing, trying to scare me like this? Stop!”

  Sam sank to the floor beside his quiet brother’s still form. “Sean, oh Sean. I didn’t get here in time. I’m sorry.” He gently took Sean’s hand and looked at it through dazed eyes. “I never paid any attention to you over the years, since we grew up. But I’m looking at you now.” Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks. “You can forgive me and talk to me now. You helped me. Let me help you. Please come back.”

  Sam looked at his dead brother face and realization came. There was no more to be done. It was over. “Why didn’t I call you sooner, Sean? Why didn’t I keep in touch, all these years? I could have been there for you.” Sam began to hyperventilate. He rose unsteadily and crossed to the door. He threw it opened. A soft breeze flooded the room and quieted him. Sam turned back to look at Sean, one last time. “At least the pain is over now. Nobody will hurt you again.”

  Sam crossed to the table and gathered up the notes. He would have to hide them for now. He wanted to destroy them, but then again, perhaps some good could come from these last experiments, although he doubted it. Sometimes people aren’t meant to know everything. But he was going to find out what Acceleration had become. Was there more to it than just Sean’s abilities? Were there others that will die like Sean? He felt there was more to know. And if it needed to be stopped, he was going to do it.

  Sam’s mouth set tightly now, and his eyes started burning with his anger. He had to do something. He wasn’t about to just take Sean’s death lightly. His mind leaped to the pictures of the destruction from the war that had created such a monstrous fear of death in him. It had lasted years. He thought death was only after him, but he was wrong. It was also pursuing the innocent which is awfully sad. But – Death
, you don’t scare me anymore! Death will be a happy place for my brother. He won, not you.

  Sam steamed out the door and slammed it shut. He walked in angry determination to the back yard. He quickly spread apart the weeds around a large rock by a fat tree. He pulled up the rock and crammed Sean’s papers under it. This was what Sam had done as a child. Sam had buried his secret stash of writings under a rock by this old tree. He had created stories but never showed them to anyone. Sean had wanted to see them, but he resisted. He was afraid that Sean would think they were silly stories. Years later Sam had checked for them, but they had disintegrated into mere scraps in the earth. Maybe it was for the best. And if he never returned this time, these notes would also turn to dust. Perhaps they should stay in the past with his treasured childish stories. Sam then walked to the car. He could not go back into the house and look at his dead brother again. His sorrow and anger over Sean’s death was exploding in his mind again. He skidded his tires as he turned onto the road, going faster and faster. Suddenly headlights beamed in the distance. They seemed to be coming straight for him. “Is this chicken you wish to play. Fine. Have we begun?” Sam floored the gas pedal and shot forward, straight for the approaching cars in the distance. The two in the lead spun sidewise and stopped, blocking the path.

  Sam shook away his tears that blinded him. “Yep, I knew you were the bad guys. Damn you!” he cried out, as he jammed on his brakes. “I want to live after all!” Suddenly his head cracked against the steering column. His car soon became silent and still. Sam stared out and tried to raise his head, but he could not. Blood streamed down from his nose and a gaping cut on his forehead.

  Three passengers burst from the front car and raised rifles and a handgun.

  “Why?” Sam could barely speak out the word.

  The men didn’t answer as they yanked him from his car and jammed a steel gun muzzle into his mouth.