The GOD Box

by Melissa Horan

  Dane put forth good effort to stay awake, but in the end couldn’t manage it. May, herself, was wide awake.

  Huh? She asked herself, flipping between the few last pages. The style of writing was making it terribly difficult to understand.

  May made her literature study intentional with circles for words she didn’t know, underlines for important passages, squares for repeated words or phrases. Most of the time she could understand from context, but this book was different. An ink circle now surrounded the word crucified. Was the whole book about this man’s failure? How strange. May settled herself with her head on the small of Dane’s back. Another thought occurred to her, which she hadn’t completely registered earlier. Those researchers might be coming soon. They were going to want an explanation. In exasperation May slapped her hand to her face. They’d hardly had enough time to learn for themselves.

  Perhaps it would be good to share the information and have many people deciphering at once. It would be difficult to explain, though, and who knew how they would treat the information. Most people would read a little and make assumptions off of the little instead of knowing all of it. Speculation of dozens seemed worse than waiting for a few to get the full story. But May knew she would be upset if she was on their side of things. Who knew what they would try to do for the information?

  Chapter 11

  Keep this up and they’re going to meet Mr. Hyde. Jonathan thought. When the three finally talked about his medicine restrictions, and how to help him, they mentioned some mumbo-jumbo about it not being “right” for someone to be addicted to anything. They admitted that they didn’t know how he felt, truly, but that it was important to fight weaknesses, and overcome them, instead of making ourselves blind to them.

  When they met the real monster, they would see how stupid all their theories were.

  Jonathan was off and on between sobs, vicious vulgarity, and isolated depression for a few days. Dane has started talking to him now, acting like a therapist. They even called in one of the therapists they saw to come in and make a house visit. The man was alarmed at the sight of Jonathan. Of course he was. Jonathan rolled his eyes at him.

  Honesty was the answer they gave the doctor when he asked about the chains. The truth was that he was a danger to everyone in the house. Even Jonathan admitted that. He felt vengeful all of the time. Then the “doctor” said how this was the strangest case he’d ever seen. Jonathan didn’t hide his eye-roll at that stupid and cliché comment.

  Flashbacks were coming, too. Jonathan hated the conscious and intentional review of the past. Being forced to relieve painful moments in a small space, in the dark, and in chains was his worst nightmare. He got so far in those flashbacks to review up until the time he started cloning.

  His divorce came first to mind even though it was the last straw on the camel’s back chronologically. The day his wife admitted she was cheating on him was years before they actually divorced. Every emotion was being relived. He sobbed and they watched him, he screamed and they watched him. They didn’t speak to him for days at a time. Times when he tried to fight against the chains, they tried to calm him so he didn’t reopen his wounds.

  Then came the memory of when he was told he could no longer do lab research about memory.

  ___

  Forbid by the government and everyone else in a press conference, to ever do more experiments, he was humiliated. He remembered standing there as the world took his picture; a blank face with hollow eyes. He stared at the void, thinking all his work was useless. Without his work he was unidentifiable to himself. He remembered calling his therapist that night and asking for more depression pills. Dr. James only agreed if Jonathan would go and meet with him the next morning, and twice weekly after that.

  The following week he was good for nothing except to go to his therapy which his wife drove him to. His eating habits varied between nothing and Cheetos. Beyond that, he sat in his home laboratory and stared at his attempts, and his formulas, talking himself out of less ethical and more illegal ways to continue practicing. There was a security camera in his office which he had installed to protect himself legally. Now they used it to watch him.

  After that week, he got a phone call about a special project, which jogged his sanity. The next week was in fervor, doing research, but never any experiments. It alerted security, who called him twice a day begging him to stop before they confiscated all of his work. The ninth time the phone rang, he was so sleep deprived and angry that he rattled off cuss words before the person on the other end of the line could tell him that they still needed him for their project, but they wouldn’t use that specific research. It was not who he thought it was.

  Jonathan’s first thought was that they told him the project was top secret. How did the government officials watching his video contact them to warn them against his research? He had assumed that his work with memory is why they wanted him. He sat hopelessly and took more anxiety pills.

  ___

  If he could get it right, there would be a market for altering memories, he was sure of it. As this blast from the past took him over, he was recalling his formulas and thinking back to everything they had in the lab.

  Would he be able to keep trying here? That was his only question and his only care. Formulas whipped through his mind as he tried to figure out what went wrong. He was staring at the table, but not really seeing it.

  Then, at night he was so drained from trying to fight all of these torments, that May would give him a sleeping pill so they could all have some peace. Often, if he hadn’t had any anxiety pills the day before, he woke in terror. May and Dane often deliberated what this all was, because it was, for the most part, foreign to them. Jonathan didn’t put in his opinion, for fear it would sway them for the worse. Dane dared to push him farther when May and had enough, and visa-versa. Jonathan had had a few good moments, and it was worth waiting to see if their experiment would pan-out.

  The other two kids – Samson and Miek – came back about a week into his periodic withdrawals. After working through the morning they came in and sat at the table to talk with May and Dane more in-depth. Their sweaty bodies and the consequent odor was unbearable. Jonathan gagged and groaned. They all ignored him.

  The news of Gabe came with an interesting reaction.

  More than the others, Miek had been vulnerable in his presence. They shared the same weakness for one evening. His reaction was unreadable. As if in tribute he told them the story that Gabe told him that night that they were walking together about the scientist, or the doctor, who wanted to be two different people with separate personalities. One would be properly organized, and upright, and accepted into society. The other would be carefree.

  “Dr. Jekyll, and Mr. Hyde.” Jonathan gargled.

  “Uh, yeah, sure… he didn’t tell me the names. Anyway, he had this drink he made that would change him back and forth. Come to think of it, he didn’t tell me how it ended.”

  “Dr. Jekyll involuntarily transforms into Hyde and can’t go back. He commits suicide.” Jonathan said.

  May asked if there was a specific reason that Gabe had told him that story. Miek admitted he couldn’t even remember how the subject came about. Then she asked him basically the same question Miek had asked, “which did he prefer to be?”

  “Neither. He felt imprisoned in both bodies, I guess.”

  May’s eyes flickered to Jonathan, but he didn’t say anything. Next, they told the story of how they went to bury Gabe, and how Jonathan tried to dig him up.

  Samson didn’t say too much, but gave his opinion as a way to sum up the conversation,

  “He was wasted. It’s a few hundred years overdue. It’s a relief to all of us including him.”

  No one else said otherwise.

  Jonathan even agreed privately and the topic wasn’t breached further. He was captivated, partially of fear, and partially of gleeful triumph when they started talking about all the things they attempted while at the cave. Apparently the on
ly dent they could make was a small one in the door. They said that with proper tools, they might be able to cave in the entrance.

  “I told you it was a waste of time.” Jonathan chastised.

  “When is he gunna keel over, eh? Where are those syringes?” Samson said with undoubted want in his sarcasm.

  “You’re going to kill me?”

  “I’ve thought about it. It would hardly be considered murder since you shouldn’t actually exist.”

  Jonathan stood up and started yelling. May rolled her eyes, stood and walked with Janey out of the house. Dane left with them. They were gone for a couple of hours. They couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. After that experience, typical operations of the house were out of commission.

  For the following few days no one came in the house unless they had to. They went in shifts giving Jonathan water to drink and food to eat. They showed the minimal decency by letting him at least eat his beef jerky. They didn’t take that away. But never mind that, it was almost gone, too.

  Dane came in one of these times to give him water and food. Jonathan could tell by his voice sooner than he could see him. His vision was blurred and sometimes he wondered if he might be hallucinating.

  “Jonathan” He said, and his voice echoed. Dane sat in front of him and snapped, trying to gain his focus. “Jonathan” He said again.

  Jonathan was dizzy and nauseous, “I can hardly see you… I feel so sick.” He was blinking and wincing, but failing to gain focus. He was down to just two pills a day, and his sleeping pill at night. It was less than a third of what he was taking before.

  Jonathan looked up and the corners of his prison were rotating painfully; expanding and shrinking as they went. “Ouf” he murmured and groaned.

  “Can you listen?” Dane’s voice wobbled like they were under water.

  “I… can’t… understand.” He said, sighing and holding down his vomit. Dane took the warning sign and quickly moved and none too soon since Jonathan retched all over the floor. It spattered up onto Dane’s pants.

  “We’ll clean it up. Don’t worry about it.” Dane said, kindly. Bright light blinded Jonathan twice as Dane went out and came in, bringing a shovel. He cleaned up the vomit as best as he could for the time being, propping open the doors in addition to the windows that were already open.

  Throughout the day, Dane came by every so often to test Jonathan’s focus. It was night, just before everyone came back to go to sleep that Dane had a chance to sit down and talk with him. Dane took on an act of sympathy that none of the others seemed to be able to manage. He pulled up a chair, careful to put it more to the side this time, in case Jonathan got sick again. For the first time ever, Dane looked afraid.

  “Look.” He began frankly. “I’m glad the others aren’t here yet. I don’t like talking about it. May, Samson, and Darian know this and that’s it. Um… so …my brother was… killed… in an accident I caused, when I was twelve. It’ll be ten years to the day in a week. I don’t talk about it and usually try to forget about it. Because of that, I can assume from experience that you’re trying to do the same thing. The event changed me. I was depressed for years and couldn’t find a way out. When I was fifteen I started leaving at night with my older brother to go to the bars. And, well, long story short, I became an alcoholic and almost died several times. Still, I knew something was wrong, and I hated myself.” He was giving his soul to Jonathan, who was hardly listening, and who would have left the conversation if there had been somewhere to go.

  “I went to therapy for a long time.” He said. “I told people to watch me, and asked for their help.” He paused, and looked at Jonathan in the eye, begging from the inside out. “May and I talked. We can’t force you to let go; to be free. SO, when you ask to be set free from these chains, we will do it.”

  Jonathan’s rage turned, “What gives you the right to make up rules for how I live?”

  Dane looked confused, “Well, Jonathan, are you happy?” Not waiting for him to answer he added, “Were you happy before? Your choices put you in chains, and you knew the conditions of being set free before and you violated them. What I would suggest, for several reasons, is that you let May hold on to your pills. If you cannot control yourself, you will run out. And, if we see you are trying we will be more likely to help you.”

  “What makes you assume that conformity to your rules is the answer? Huh?” He seethed. “Whatever. Set me free. Get me out of these frickin’ chains.”

  “I said I would when you ask.” Dane sat and stupidly waited for Jonathan to find his humility. Nope. It didn’t come, sorry, too bad, Jonathan thought, your plan didn’t work.

  Dane would be next to break. Jonathan could see the loss and the hollowness of his eyes. He felt some empathy toward him this time only. Watching Dane break meant either Jonathan or May was next, and at this rate, it would be him. They thought they were conditioning him to freedom from medication, and even conditioning him to submission. No one is free, here. Who were they kidding?

  Everyone began to move into the house, visibly grateful that Jonathan was subdued and Dane was sitting so close that it meant he was safe. Dane finished up while May laid with Janey until she fell asleep. Dane then switched places with her, and she got up to make more notes in her notebook.

  She gave Jonathan his sleeping pill. After that day, the house was back in its typical order, but not because he had changed, but because after the events of tomorrow, they would have no other choice.

  Chapter 12

  The sky looked glorious the next morning, and the almost sickeningly sweet smell was so strong it could have woken Gabe from his grave. May waddled along sloppily with the bamboo across her shoulders toward the well. The movement was her best attempt at ignoring her paranoia. Her brain seemed to have built up a wall she couldn’t get past. Sharp eyes lit up fiercely at small noises.

  This was already trip number three and everyone else was still sleeping. Sometimes she really hated how she couldn’t sleep. It was her best efforts not to complain… but sometimes… she really hated how she couldn’t sleep. The details of the canvas of the sky seemed to dim with the coming of the sun. How presumptuous and selfish. It was in the sun’s very nature to be such, she supposed. Perhaps in his right. She mumbled a song about the sun up to the well and back, no one else was there, which wasn’t all that strange. Other people usually had help, or they made a morning trip and an afternoon trip instead of doing it all in the morning.

  The dizziness of walking alone, with her head to the sky, her thoughts came into better focus. Oh. Huh. May thought about the book. Son and sun… the selfishness being a right, which then makes it not really like selfishness at all. Filled with brightness that dulls every other less important detail, the sun comes up each day and helps us see everything more clearly. Interesting.

  No longer wandering, and her gaze on the path ahead, May realized, stoically, a partial meaning of the text, and went to take a note before her last trip to the well. Upon entering the house, Jonathan responded with surprise that she was there. It was too quiet, and no one was sleeping, but no one was even around. He ignored her question and instead asked for pills. He asked for them so frequently, their plan to help him extend the use was not really working. In just a few days the amount in her pouch was three-quarters of what it originally was.

  When Jonathan tried to explain his surprise, she was too tired to figure out what he was talking about. She promptly left to find someone else, sensing there was something more important happening than chores. The path on the left led to the market, and the path on the right led to the well. Swift and determined steps to the path on the left took her not even a quarter of the way before she saw her mother and the children making a similarly determined, but increasingly panicked route back home. Realizing, if they were panicked, the best place for her to be was with them so she waited and joined in the direction back home.

  Half-running backwards, she listened to her mother’s story and the concern of the
frustrated archaeologists who had gathered supporters including government officials from other cities to come confront them. Dane was apparently doing alright with the reasoning bit, and the deal making. Still, if Janine didn’t feel safe, then May knew more was going to come.

  It still seemed a little odd that her mother was dragging them all hurriedly down the road. There was no sign of anyone following behind them. May looked through all the jungle area, and could almost see Tatum’s house. It seemed quiet. Perhaps her mother knew something else she wasn’t saying in front of the children. Janine’s panic was affecting May.

  It made May nervous that the kiddies were slow, tripping up under their own feet. When she saw something moving in the bushes, innately, her heart began to rush, but she acted calm, double checking the paranoia she felt. Stillness… silence…

  … then movement again.

  Scooping up her daughter and grabbing her youngest brother by the hand, her footprints tore across the sand. The way Janey shifted this way and that, May thought all of them were going to tumble over.

  “Hold Still.” May said abruptly. Janey responded by throwing her arms around May’s neck, and wrapping her legs around May’s waist as best as she could. May couldn’t even check behind her to see if they were being followed. This may be more of a hunt, and not a chase. No matter, it was better to get them home as soon as possible.

  In one fluid motion, they swung open the door and entered the house. May tried to let her daughter down, but she was clasped tight against her chest; legs and arms wrapped tightly. Gently but firm May said, “You need to let go”. She didn’t. May groaned, “Ma, please help.” Janine was shaking, but was keeping a level head and she obeyed. May looked at Jonathan, growled, and said plainly, with a deliberate finger in his direction, “This is your fault”.

  Jonathan made a face that might even have been admittance, mixed with his usual irritation. “You didn’t have to take us there... You are better off.” He argued tersely.