by Will Mosley
Heather rolled her eyes to the sky for a moment, then dropped her face in her hands. Hopeful, she raised her head. “Beer, huh? Non-alcoholic I presume.”
“What’s the point of that?” Bill asked.
“No. Bud Light?”
“Shit!” Heather shouted. “Three, alcoholic beers a day. That's the reason they escaped! Let me guess, you've been running out of beer rather fast, haven't you?”
Bill turned to her in amazement, but Joe answered. “Kimble told you that?”
“No, Kimble didn't tell me that. Alcohol decreases the potency of the agent used to keep them malleable. Since they didn't use a non-alcoholic beer, like the doctor recommended, it takes an increasingly larger amount of the agent to be effective.”
As Heather stood silent, staring impatiently into the woods, seemingly unaware of the cold, Joe offered his jacket to her.
“I'm fine.” She pushed the Tan Carhartt jacket away.
“Listen,” Joe said. “We did the best we could with them. I tried using reverse psychology on them and it worked most of the time. But we simply could not keep these guys held back.”
“No, no.” Heather said gently. “It's not your fault. It's WhiteWash. They should've known better than this. I need to talk to the remaining guys privately.”
Both Bill and Joe grimaced. “I don't think that that's such a good idea.” Joe said.
“I'm not asking.”
“I'd say no,” Bill whispered.
“These guys used to work for me. They know me.” Heather said, then thought, better than any person alive. And now they're on the loose!
Bill escorted Heather to Jacob's recently vacated trailer while Joe rounded up the two men. Alone with Bill, a few minutes silently went by when, suddenly the door flung open. Heather stood as Tatem and Guillermo walked in. So excited to see them after so many years, she could barely keep her broad grin tamed and wanted to give each of them a hug. But, she wasn't quite sure that the act would elicit the same affection from the men. Joe pointed to two chairs in the dining room of the trailer, as Tatem and Guillermo nodded to Heather with no comprehension of her and sat down. Heather followed suit and nodded to Joe and Bill, who reluctantly exited the trailer.
The smile didn't leave her face as she stared at them. “Guillermo Santos?” She questioned to make sure they at least knew their names. Guillermo nodded. “Tatem Phiniker?”
“Hello.” Tatem coyly waved.
“My God! How have you guys been? It's been forever!” By acting as if nothing had taken place since 2003, and that she were just one of the guys, she hoped that it would trigger a memory to slip past the impenetrable wall that the serum created, but not too far. Mentioning project Trojan might throw the guys into some half-doped reaction, but that was the reason Tom and Pavel where hiding in the woods. She simply needed information, not a fight that would prove difficult or impossible to win.
“How are you?” Guillermo asked.
“Hello, again.” Tatem said.
“You know, guys, WhiteWash plans on getting you outta here soon?”
Both men blankly stared at Heather. “What?” Guillermo asked.
“Don't you want to go home?” Heather asked brightly. “Mo, I know you miss Catalina. You haven't seen her since she was four years-old. She's a teenager now! And Phiniker. Good ol' Phiniker.” She smiled at him dryly. She couldn't think of anything family related to say to him. She had partially kept up with their families, but to tell Tatem Phiniker that his wife married his brother after she gave up on his return, didn't seem necessary.
“When did you see Jacoben last?” She asked. Both men looked at each other and shrugged.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, but do you know us?” Tatem asked.
“Why would we want to get out of here? This is where we work” Guillermo said with such strong condescension that Heather nearly felt that she was being belittled. She looked into the men's questioning eyes and saw nothing but empty sockets of ignorance, as if someone had taken an eraser to all thought. She could continue with the charade for hours if needed, until the serum wore off, but that was risky because she didn't know what stage of response they would have. But since there appeared to no period between doses that would allow for some deep questioning, Heather laid her second cell phone on the table.
“Alright, guys,” She huffed. “Just listen to this. If any of this sounds familiar, anything at all, please tell me. Got it?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
Heather pressed the play button on the music player on her phone and leaned back in her chair. “Just ignore the first part.” She said. Then, the transmission played.
{Chattering voices of children and adults.}
Adult Female: Chad! Stop running, Chad! You come over here right now mister!
Adult Male: Chadwick! Listen to your mother!
Adult Female 2: Where's the cake?
Heather: Janet just took it from the fridge.
Adult Female 2: Should we start the birthday song? Is it too early?
Adult Male: Chadwick, stop pulling at Abigail's dress, son! What's wrong with these kids?
Heather: No, it's not. I'll get everyone's attention. Brian, are you about ready to sing happy Birthday?
Adult Male: Yeah, Heather. Just let me just round up Chad. Chad! Come here now, young man!
Heather {loudly}: Attention everyone, attention! I would like everyone to gather around in the kitchen so we can sing Happy Birthday to Abigail!
{Chattering voices}
Adult Female 3: Where's Abi –,
Adult Male: Here she comes.
Heather: Come here Abby! Everyone's going to sing Happy Birthday to you!
{Chattering voices}
Heather: Okay. Is everyone here?
{Chorus of voices}: Yes!
Heather: Excellent. Now, on the count of three we're going to sing. Ready? One... Two... Three... Happy –,
[Begin Transmission – 10 February 2003 02:51 Israel Standard Time]
{Men speaking in Farci dialect Arabic}
Nasser al-Majid: Are you sure that was all of them? We have everything, right?
Karim al-Douri: Yes. I double checked. There was nothing else in there.
Nasser: And how much further?
Karim: 2.5 kilometers.
Malik Mahmud: 2.5? Are you serious? This shit is heavy!
Nasser: We will take a break at 1.25 kilometers. Should I have room service bring your slippers and pipe?
Malik: I wish.
Karim: What do you think is in these bags, Hassan?
Hassan al-Tikriti: Lead. Hell, I dunno. I say let's crack'em open and see.
Nasser: No. Let's not. Let's get this stuff moved and get back. These bags are heavy and It's cold as shit.
Karim: I agree with Hassan. I say we open'em.
Nasser: No! Hassan is an idiot.
Hassan: Hey!
Karim: He'll never find out. {static} why are we burying this shit out here to begin with?
Mohamed Ramadan: Because we volunteered. No, wait. This asshole bag volunteered us.
Karim: Besides that, Mo.
Malik: Don't push me, Mohamed. I only volunteered us to get some free time. Besides, he's expecting an invasion.
Hassan: From who? The Kurds? They're not going to do anything {static}
Malik: Have you not heard what happened in the States?
Nasser: World Trade building's got blowed up. At least that's what I heard.
Hassan: Are you shitting me?
Karim: They're lying, Hassan. Some group drove a van into the North Tower in '93 and that bitch didn't budge. You'd have to drop a nuke on lower Manhatten to blow those up.
Nasser: Ahmed told me they used planes to do the job.
Mohamed: Planes? {static}
Nasser: And brought them both down.
Mohamed: One plane brought both buildings down?
Nasser: Two. A coordinated attack.
Karim: I would be nice to watch a
non-propagan – {static} station once in a while.
Malik: The thing is, the attackers were Saudi's, but the UN inspectors are here. Go figure.
Karim (mumbles): Why here?
Malik: Saddam thinks that the Bush's are out to get him. Thinks they're {static} angling for a new war with us.
Nasser: With us? {Laughs}
Karim: That doesn't explain much, Malik. {static} if the United States were to invade, why –,
Malik: He's hiding his assets. He expects this invasion to be larger and more severe than in '91.
Hassan: But there's no reason for an invasion if the Saudi's attacked the World Trade Center.
Nasser: Assets?
Mohamed: Assets like what?
Malik: He's got several hundred SCUD's headed to Syria –,
Hassan: If that story's true, then what's in these bags?
Karim: I'm calling bullshit.
{Bags drop to the ground}
Hassan: I'm not walking another inch til I find out what's –,
Nasser: No! Don't open that bag, Hassan. Until we get back, I'm in charge and I'm commanding you to keep that bag closed!
Hassan: Why? Malik mentioned assets –,
Nasser: Opening the bags is not part of the {static} paranoid asshole probably has these bags wired.
{Bag unzips}
Mohamed: Oops! My fault.
Nasser: Dammit, Mohamed!
Mohamed: You were talking to Hassan and my mind was all clouded with the word 'assets' –,
Nasser: You dickheads are going to get us killed. Do you realize who we're –,
Malik: Look! In the bag!
{Several moments of silence as many more bags drop to the ground and are unzipped}
Malik: Holy shit, look {static} I think – I think this pretty much confirms the invasion theory.
Mohamed: Thanks, Dr. Obvious. Now what? Do you still want to bury these, Nasser? We don't have to, you know.
Hassan: Sweet God! Look at this!
Nasser: This certainly does {static} We can't leave this –,
[End of Transmisson]
Heather stopped the audio file during the continuation of the happy birthday song and watched the faces of Mo and Tatem. Puzzled, they turned to each other. Mo spoke first.
“Hey, ma'am?”
“Yes, Mo.”
“Do you think we could get a couple of beers and listen to that again?”
“Yeah! I think I heard my name in all of that jibber-jabber!” Tatem laughed.
“Mine too! I want to see what they're talking about.” Guillermo join Tatem's laughter.
Heather shook her head and covered her eyes. “Okay, guys. Before those beers, why don't we listen just once more.”
“I dunno.” Mo said. “I'm really wanting a beer.” Heather ignored him and pressed the 'play' button on her phone again.
A second playing yielded no results besides eliciting a second beer request and a pocket translator.
Before Heather left the camp in a rush, she assured Joe that she would not let Kimble know about the missing men, and that he shouldn't mention it to Kimble either, nor should he mention her inquest into the camp. He agreed and Heather got into the Avalon, picked up Cal and Pavel a quarter mile down the road from the camp, and sped away.
“Did you find what you were after?” Cal asked soon after getting comfortable.
“Yes and no. Some of these guys have left! The damn incompetent fools couldn't keep them there virtually unguarded!”
“I saw that side arm on the thin guy and wondered, 'Is that all they gave them'?”
Heather continued as though Cal had said nothing. “There's no fences, no snipers... they're in trailers for Pete's sake! What were they thinking?”
“Are those things needed for five men?” Pavel asked from the backseat, pouring sunflower seeds into his mouth.
“If not more! They're keeping them doped up by putting an additive in their beer. But it's becoming ineffective and now three of these guys are roaming the world, searching for answers,” She winced as if something had jumped in front of the car and startled her. “Looking for...” Heather stopped herself.
“Looking for what?” Cal asked.
“Me.”
“But isn't that what you want, to talk to them, get information?”
“Not on their terms.”
“They don't know where you live, Heady. Didn't you say that the house belonged to your mother?” Cal asked. Heather took her eyes from the road and put them on Cal, wanting to tell him the truth, but knowing that if they simply found the three guys and if she could get information about the transmission from them, he and Pavel could hopefully rid the world of the men and the truth would not be needed. “What? What did I say?” You look like you're hiding something. You got more to tell us?”
“No, Cal. Nothing more. I just have to get out of that house.”
The entire trip was a waste of time. Instead of driving to Pennsylvania, she could've simply stayed home, especially since PK had given her two of his best in Pavel and Cal. But now, as a hot purple sky seeped into black in the east, she wondered whether these two would be enough.
Both men were old school operators and both kept their service weapons within reach at all times – the lethal Heckler and Koch HK-90's. Cal's peeked from underneath his seat like the head of a black snake whose venom was absolutely toxic. The sight of it and the mental visual was slightly comforting, wrapping her in a tattered blanket of 'What if's'. What If their expertise behind those HK's isn't enough? She thought. God help us.
In the back seat, Pavel hummed what she imagined to be some homesick Soviet melody and watched the landscape fly past his window while Cal slept in the passenger's seat, his head bounced with the rhythm of the car. Sleep. She smiled and laughed to herself.
“Cal,” She whispered. He rolled his eyes and head to her and that in itself was the acknowledgment. “How asleep are you?”
“Deep.”
“Doesn't look that way.”
“I'm a S.E.A.L. You and I define 'sleep' differently.”
“Can you take the wheel?” Cal sighed and worked his jaw muscles. She hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “or do you want me to ask –,”
“I'll drive! I don't want,” He hiked his thumb to the backseat. “Driving us off a cliff or something. Just – just pull over.”
“I do not require much sleep.” The voice boomed from behind them.
“That's okay, Pavel. We need to keep the car on this side of the road. I've got it, but thanks anyway.” Cal said, bracing himself against the dashboard as Heather brought the car to hard stop.
“You are not a man of forgiveness, Calvin. That incident happened only once.”
“Once is equivalent to twenty times! We westerners shoot for no times on the opposite side of the road.”
“You are difficult to satisfy.” Pavel said and continued his grumbled hum.
The exchange was quick. Heather leaned the passenger's seat back, asked Cal for one of his t-shirts, folded it into rectangular strip of cloth, draped it across her eyes and drifted into sleep. She desired alertness and absolute focus and with proper sleep, she knew that these things would come. She couldn't be asleep when one, or all, of her project Trojan guys showed up at her house. But the home's location itself didn't matter. If they were indeed 'on the loose' she was certain to run into them. As long as her heart pumped blood to her brain and kept it warm and functioning, they would find her, if they hadn't already.
March 10, 2008
The abrupt motion of the stuttering car woke Heather hours after she had closed her eyes. Saliva crusted at the corners of her mouth which she noticed and wiped away in an instant. She leaned up just long enough to see the green and white Starbucks sign, then laid back down and covered her face.
“Why are you here? They're closed.” She croaked to Cal.
“It's 0730. They just opened, Heady.” Cal said.
Along with seeing the Starbucks sign, she also
noticed that it was set against a dark blue sky which could've meant that she'd been asleep for only an hour and that the sun was still going down. The 7:30 am time Cal had announced came as a blow since her body only felt half rested and loggy.
“We're back already, huh?” She asked the car.
“Correct.” Pavel said.
“I called a buddy to help us out. You know Patrick Eisen, don't you?” Cal asked. Heather moaned that she did. “You don't have to pay him or anything, I just figured that if we did run into these guys, we'd have a better outcome with a one to one ratio.” She grunted and after a few moments sat up and raised her seat. Anticipation racked her nerves and was the reason for her unrestful sleep.
When they arrived at Kathy's house and pulled into the driveway, a car was already parked in the road.
“There he is!” Cal said, delighted and waved to the man, then cut the car off.
Heather yawned and cracked her neck. “Listen, guys, what I plan to do is this: Get a few things loaded and take them to a storage unit I've rented.” Heather took a pen from the console and jotted the name of the storage facility and directions on a torn off piece of paper from the car's owner’s manual. She handed it to Cal.
“I know where this is.” He said.
“Good. We may have a few loads, but it shouldn't take very long.”
“Heather,” Pavel asked curiously. “Do these men know your address?”
“No, Pavel.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Good point.” Cal said.
Knuckles rapped against the driver window and Patrick Eisen waved to the three of them. Cal returned the wave, then stuck a finger up for him to give them a minute more. He shuffled away and lit a cigarette. “You said this was your mother's house, didn't you?”
“It is, but –,”
“Have they been here before?”
“Guys,” Heather said exhaustively. “Could you just trust me? It's too long to explain.”
“Paranoid.” Pavel mumbled. Heather shot a cold glance into the backseat. “Alright, alright! I'm joking.”
“Help me with this, first. Then we'll find somewhere – preferably away from a neighborhood – to set up.” Heather finished. Both men nodded and all three occupants got out.
Pavel and Cal immediately went to Patrick while Heather took her bag from the trunk and went inside. The term 'paranoid' was what Lucus used the day before to describe what she felt as absoluteness. Now she'd realized that Lucus didn't have her personal phone number.