by B K Brain
Don’t forget the condom, David thought. Ribbed for her pleasure, in case Cathleen gets over the gruesome murder she witnessed and starts to feel frisky.
“What are we gonna do?” she asked with tears drying over red cheeks.
“I don’t know.” A stutter had begun in his lower lip, a tremble. He turned away, pretending to look over the door again. He wanted to be strong for her.
He didn’t feel strong.
Were they going to die here, in a stupid closet? Were these the last four walls he’d ever see? He stopped, blinked, looked left then right.
The walls, he thought. Holy shit.
The floor was solid wood. There’d be no getting through that without tools. The door was metal, so same deal. But this wasn’t Fort Knox, nor was it a jail designed to contain clever criminals with too much time on their hands. No, this was a research facility. The locks and the security system were pretty good, but the walls? He would’ve bet dollars to doughnuts they were plain old sheetrock.
And David had a spoon. He also had a shoe that could be used as a hammer. Hell, if his assumption was correct he could probably kick his way out of this room.
He snatched the spoon off the floor and walked to the back wall. He pressed the edge into the surface and pried. A jagged chunk broke free.
We’re not dying here.
To hell with black holes and baseballs. To hell with the exclusive of a lifetime. And, most importantly, to hell with Dr. Samuel Jacobson.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Right now.”
There was no way to know when Sam, that murdering son of a bitch, would come back, so David made the hole low, easily hidden behind cases of paper and the bucket. It was difficult at first, but once he had a fist sized opening things went a lot faster. Cathleen scooped the dusty debris up and dropped it into the bucket, the only place to keep it out of sight.
David peered inside and saw the back of a sheetrock wall that faced the next room, one he hoped wasn’t locked. He gritted teeth and kept going in defiance of his aching back. Pain was for later. Now was for getting out of here, for living long enough to see retirement - smelly boat and all.
Approaching footsteps brought the project to a halt ten minutes later.
David and Cathleen got to their feet and dropped everything into the bucket, out of sight. They met side-by-side in front of the stack of boxes and waited as keys jangled outside. One slid into the lock and the deadbolt clunked open. A turn of the knob and the door was thrown wide.
There stood Sam, with pistol in hand. In the other hand, a pencil and a spiral notebook.
“You will write a message to your crew telling them you had important business elsewhere and will return in three days. You will tell them to begin without you. Then you’ll sign it.” He passed the notebook to David.
David reached out, realizing his hands were smeared with white dust. He needed to keep Sam thinking about something other than what was right in front of him.
“Where would I have gone, Sam?”
“To consult with another researcher, a physicist you met a few years ago. Or maybe you went to Disney World. It doesn’t matter because important business is all the letter will say. Now start writing before I lose my patience.”
David took the notebook to the three high stack of printer paper, keeping his body between Sam and the project beyond, while trying not to look like he was blocking his captor’s view. It was an act normal and walk casual kind of thing, yet how normal could he be expected to act with a gun pointed at his back?
He used the top box as a table and wrote the letter to his crew, wondering if he could get away with saying something personal, something that might clue them in to what they’d just walked into. But there was no time for that, not with Sam standing right behind, waiting.
David had a better plan anyway. So he wrote what Sam wanted him to write and nothing more. He signed it as simply Dave, something he wouldn’t actually do if penning instructions for employees, but he thought it would be convincing for Sam. Anything to be done with this and send him on his way. Because he had a hole to make.
He turned, handed the notebook back.
“Go stand against the wall while I look this over.” Sam shooed them with the barrel of the pistol.
The two walked around the boxes and stood next to each other, right in front of a torn and broken sheetrock opening. Cathleen’s eyes went wide with fear, yet she remained silent. They both knew their legs and feet weren’t enough to hide David’s project. If Sam took two steps further into the room, so to see over the stacked cases, their efforts would be exposed. How angry would he be at their escape attempt? What would he do? An image of that poor man on the sidewalk flashed in David’s mind.
He took Cathleen’s hand, feeling cold sweat. She was trembling again. So was he. He squeezed.
“This will be fine,” Sam said with eyes locked on him. “I apologize for how things have gone, Dave. I really do.” He smiled. “I consider you a friend and I hope you’ll forgive me for what I’ve had to do.” The smile disappeared. For a moment his expression fell blank, like a dying bulb flickering in his brain. “For what I still have to do.”
David said nothing.
Sam backed into the hallway and pulled the door shut. A clunk of tumblers at the deadlock. A click-clack of shoes, fading.
Cathleen took David’s shoulders in her hands, turned him to face her. Pulled him in for a hug.
David said, “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
She kissed his cheek. “I know.”
He got back to work.
4
She watched as Big Sis began to panic. It was strange, for once in Eddie’s life, not to be the one freaking out. Strange, and kind of nice, actually.
Is that mean? Well yeah, she supposed it was.
“God,” Rachel said as she gazed out the new kitchen window with wide eyes, checking on their unwelcome guest. “What are we gonna do tomorrow? I can’t take any more time off work. I can’t let you stay with Mom. What if something happens again? You obviously can’t stay here with Maurice.” She leaned forward, closer to Eddie and took her by the hand. “You tell me. What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re asking what your purpose is. I’ve been trying to answer that question all week. It sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, Ed. It sucks.”
Maybe it was time to tell her about David, the old guy in the bar. “So, you know that science show I watch?”
It took a few seconds for the question to register, to percolate long enough for Rachel to hear it through the jumble of mounting problems. “The circle thing? Yeah.”
“Well, I think what’s happening has something to do with the producer of that program. His name is David Sandoval. I think we’re, um, connected somehow.”
“Connected?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I keep seeing him. He has something to do with this. I’m sure of it.”
Rachel inhaled a deep breath, wiped a hand down a cheek. She was still pale but starting to look a bit calmer. “No crazier than anything else. Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”
“I don’t know.”
“Spill it,” she said with a stern glare. “And don’t leave anything out this time.”
5
David slid through the torn opening, into the dark room next door. He squinted into shadows and got to his feet, brushing white dust away. Eyes adjusted, slowly, to the new environment.
The space was larger than the previous; twice as big, he guessed. There were more boxes, a long table, and a single door. He took cautious steps toward the closed exit, making as little sound as possible. With an ear to cold metal, he listened.
He tried the knob. It turned free. A simple, stupid thing, yet it was all he could do not to crumble into tears.
He turned the knob back to center, and then went to help Cathleen. Her shirt was caught on a sharp edge and he had to snap a chunk of wall to get her loose.
“Ta
ke my hands,” David whispered. He grabbed and slid her through, helped her to her feet.
“Is it unlocked?” she mouthed in silence.
He nodded.
She pressed hands into prayer mode and looked to the ceiling. “Thank you, Jesus.”
David smirked. “Come on.”
He eased the door open and peeked into the hallway. It was dark and quiet. The control room and Sam were to the right. They’d be going left.
He took Cathleen’s hand and led her into the unknown.
There had to be an exit at the other side of the building. A back door, a loading dock, whatever. A window would’ve been fine. They could pop out a screen and be on their way. A long walk to town would be a hell of a lot better than waiting to get squashed on the sidewalk like a bug.
It might be hours before their psychotic host missed them. David hoped so, trying not to think how indecisive his luck had been lately. Just as it seemed to be picking up speed it lost traction completely, stumbled, flickering like the dying bulb he’d seen in Sam’s expression. It was scary to think what might happen if those bulbs burnt out together, Sam’s remaining sanity and David’s dwindling luck.
If it runs out you do what you have to, that’s all. No matter what it is. You know that’s how it works.
Yes. That was how it worked, even now.
Especially now.
The south hallway led them to a new intersection and new choices. They tried going left first. Five doors, closed and locked. They went right.
Two rooms, an office and a small storage closet, were open, but provided no windows or any other access to the outside world. A massive steel door stood blocking the path to what David was positive of being a secondary laboratory.
That was it. The entire facility was locked tight. Only the north end of the building, the areas needed by Jacobson, were open for business. And the madman held all the keys. Sadly, that meant backtracking.
David prayed he could find a way around Sam.
6
Director Garret sat at his desk, scowling at the smug face on his laptop screen. “Like I said General, he’s gone off the grid. But we’ll find him. All of my agents are-”
“Unacceptable. You’re operating under no restrictions on this one. Get it done.”
“We are scouring every possible location. We’ll have him within twenty-four hours, I’m sure of it.”
“If you don’t I’ll be forced to involve Harrison.”
“You’d risk exposure of this agency? To the FBI? Have you lost your mind?”
“I don’t think you understand what this technology means. The fate of the entire world is currently in your hands. You cannot fail.”
“I won’t.”
“Twenty-four hours. That’s the end of my patience.”
Garret’s cell phone rang. He pointed to the ceiling with a thick index finger. “One moment, General.” He turned away from the video conference to answer the call. “Talk to me.”
Agent Monroe’s voice. “Thompson hasn’t checked in, Sir.”
Garret grinned. “So it’s Pennsylvania, is it? Make the calls. We’re moving.” He looked back to the General. “We got him.”
7
David rounded the next corner and peered down a long hall. Closed doors lined both sides of a narrow reflective walkway, just like all the others they’d seen today. Only they’d seen this one before. Three doors further on the right was where this escape began, with a spoon and some dusty sheetrock.
I can’t believe we had to come back here.
Sam was somewhere down this hall, likely busy in the control room, typing into a keyboard, programming his God computer to do the next amazing thing. It was a power he wielded with the accountability of a child, or perhaps a carnival illusionist who’d only yesterday stumbled upon real magic.
Step right up, folks! Witness the astounding gravity trick! You won’t believe your eyes!
But you will believe, because you’ll have no other choice. The man on that sidewalk will believe too. Oh yes he will.
Cathleen had a handful of David’s shirt, only a step behind, as they inched forward in silence. She’d been his employee two days ago. What was she today, a friend? Could she be more? Would he get the chance to find out?
Maybe an apology and a kiss on the cheek would be his final hurrah, just like his beloved show. Ratings were down but that was okay, no problem at all, because the network had some new and exciting reality television in the works.
He grinned. If only Vice Dickhead could see him now. The asshole would probably take one look and order twenty episodes, based on the likelihood of David’s impending death alone. Now that’s compelling television, he’d say while pouring drinks in his ridiculous office.
The next intersecting hallway led to the control room and the stairwell down to the main laboratory, the massive room of baseballs and black holes. David held his breath and peeked around the corner. No Sam. The hum of a dozen hard drives rumbled from places unseen.
“Stay here,” he whispered to Cathleen. “I’m gonna find out where he is.”
David ducked low and eased closer to the open doorway, each step precise and in slow motion. With his back against the wall he listened for any sound. Sam’s voice meandered below the hum of computers - a word here, a cough there. It was hard to tell but it sounded like he was on the far side of the room with his back turned. Of course David knew that last part may have been wishful thinking.
Only one (possibly deadly) way to find out. He had to look.
He leaned and twisted to see around the doorframe. He was right. Sam sat at a keyboard typing, facing the other direction. That was good for sneaking past this entrance, but terrible for getting by the open doorway on the other side of the room, the one David had planned to walk by to get to the main entrance.
If Sam stayed where he was they’d need to take the stairwell and cut across the laboratory floor, the only other way to the parking lot. That was doable, as long as he didn’t stand up to look through the observation window.
Luck, don’t fail me now.
He motioned for Cathleen to join him.
They snuck past the control room door and headed for the stairwell.
Down the stairs, through the door, into the lab. David looked to the observation window above hoping Sam would remain busy at the computer. They’d stay close to the wall below the glass, just in case.
Get past this room and you’re home free, Dave.
Cathleen once again gripped a fistful of his shirt from behind. He glanced back, took her hand. “Let’s go.”
The little table was still there. Two cameras on tripods, aimed at its surface. And a baseball.
Wait a minute, David thought. The real ball was in the control room the last time he’d seen it, which meant-
Either Sam’s making a new recording or he’s running the experiment again.
The first option would mean it was a real baseball David was seeing. The second would mean it was a copy, and if the simulation was currently running it would be quite dangerous - deadly, in fact - to disturb the ball. Two rulers, a tire iron, and a hockey stick had already verified that. They’d need to be careful.
He led Cathleen around the table and across the room thinking how excited he’d been only yesterday, how amazed he’d been last night. What once represented a new beginning for his career now threatened his life. His initial reaction to the phone call had been the right one; he shouldn’t have come. He should’ve hung up, forgotten all about this nonsense, and made the final five episodes like he’d planned. He definitely shouldn’t have brought Cathleen.
He looked up to the window again. Sam wasn’t in sight.
He could’ve ended his career with dignity. But no, not the great producer David Sandoval. An Emmy wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted a Pulitzer. He wanted record-breaking ratings.
He picked up the pace. The far doorway was closed, but hopefully not locked. It led to the north corridor and the front entra
nce. To freedom.
Cathleen’s hand slipped from his. Desperate, she called out his name. “David!”
Breath caught tight in his throat. He turned to look.
He hadn’t seen Sam in the observation window because Sam was no longer upstairs. He was here, in the lab, right behind. He had the pistol. And now he had Cathleen.
She cried, struggled in his grip, squirmed to break free. The gun found soft flesh under her chin. She gasped, trembling.
“Stop this, Sam,” David said with hands held up, fingers spread wide. “Let her go.”
“No. I don’t think I will.” He pressed the barrel harder into her skin. “I warned you, David. My instructions were very simple.”
“Wait. Don’t do this. Please.”
“I must admit your timing is perfect. I assume you’ve noticed the experiment is running.” He glanced back to the table, grinned, and then locked eyes on David. “Like I said, I’m all out of hockey sticks. Perhaps your friend would like to assist me.”
Oh no.
“David,” she said, with tears streaming. “Please. Don’t let him-”
David took a step forward. “I’ll do anything you want. Just stop.”
Sam pulled her back, closer to the table, the baseball. “It’s too late for bargains, Dave.”
“Please, Sam. I’m begging you.”
Sam yanked her back another three steps. A halogen blazed from its tri-pod, creating a bright circle of yellow light. The cameras focused downward, sending video to the impossible computer upstairs. Cathleen stood next to the table, straining against his grip, fighting to get loose. She was close, too fucking close.
David had come to this place in search of the episode of his life, a show to end all shows. So now here it was, his wish come true. There’d be no need for green screens or digital effects this time. A dolly zoom wasn’t required; a new focal length already pulled at his eyes.
Tears ran salty streaks. Given the opportunity he might’ve loved her.
I can’t let this happen.
With luck run dry, David did what he had to. He leapt forward, at Cathleen, at Sam, at the gun and the table. He grabbed at Sam’s arm, yanked.