Blice wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his robe. "We did, Niko. We did all of those things in those pictures. That's how we were when my father was away. I hated doing those things to you. I did. When you and I got away for the weekend, we were buddies and everything was wonderful. We were happy together. Then as soon as we got back to Paradise, my father would ensure that you were beaten down again. I tried to get him to stop, but he threatened me."
"With what? Taking some of your money away?"
"No. He told me he would kill you."
Isidore turns away from him and looks out the window. He can't watch Blice crying like this. He knows he's telling the truth and that hurts even more. Isidore can't stay angry at him now that he knows he did all of that to save his life.
"Do you want to know the reason I call you Niko?" Blice asks. "I first called you that so my father wouldn't know who I was talking about when I told him I was going away on a trip with my friend Niko. If I was to use your real name, he would have made me stay. I know I've been harsh with you. I know I'm a bad person and you should never forgive me for the way I have behaved and treated you. But know that under it all, I genuinely do care about you as a friend and a brother."
"You're lying! You've never cared about me. Why would you remove my memories if you had nothing to hide?" Isidore asks.
"I took away your memories so you would never find out what really happened. I wanted to start over and try to be the friend you needed me to be. I didn't want to be like that towards you. I didn't. Please believe me."
Isidore turns his back to him. "I don't believe you."
"I can prove it to you. Just stay here and I'll be right back. Okay? Don't go anywhere." Blice stands and leaves the room.
The overwhelming need to please Blice stirs in Isidore so he finds the program that he had been using, sits in the chair, and puts Blice's insignia into the blue hologram. He screams and drops the necklace as the pain spreads over his entire body.
Blice runs into the office and turns it off. He catches Isidore in his arms. "What did you do?"
Isidore grabs onto Blice's robe. "I disobeyed you. I had to punish myself. Forgive me for stealing."
"No. This is not how things work in my house." Blice picks Isidore up in his arms and carries him to the sofa. "We are going to have a serious conversation. Your behavior is absolutely unacceptable. But now I have a dilemma. How do I punish you for punishing yourself? This doesn't make any sense. I'm not your enemy, Isidore. I want to be friends, but I have to put your safety and wellbeing ahead of being buddies. I can't stand back and watch you do things that will negatively affect your health. I give you rules and orders so that I can keep you from destroying yourself." He takes Isidore in his arms and holds him close. "But now is not the time for me to be an owner. It's time for me to be a friend . . . a pathetic, apologetic, and worthless friend."
6
Blice hasn't said a word to Isidore since yesterday morning. They have stayed as far away from each other as physically possible. Neither one left their bedrooms all day. They even got ready on separate ends of the house, unlike their usual ritual of fixing their hair together and talking. As Isidore shaves, he notices another bruise on his face. It's not even worth asking Blice about at this point. He did it. Isidore now knows that the other bruise was from Blice as well. What is he going to do about it? Nothing.
Today, Isidore is going to be an inquisitor for the sake of the other T.I.M.E.s who are counting on him to do something and help out. He will do what he has to do, play whatever role he has to, and obey the rules that Blice has for him so he can get up to that space station and help his people. There are footsteps near the bedroom door and a note slips under the door. Isidore picks it up and reads it.
Good morning, Niko. Please meet me outside in fifteen minutes so we can go to the council hall together. We are needed at an important meeting to discuss the findings about the space transport. Breakfast is on the table. Don't forget to wear your uniform and your insignia. Sorry if this seems demanding. This meeting is important so we can't be late. I know you probably don't want to be anywhere near me, but your council seat is next to mine and I have to keep you by my side by order of my father. You don't have to pretend to be happy or anything. I'm not feeling very good today anyway. I haven't slept all night. Well, I'll stop wasting your time. See you in a bit.
Isidore crumples up the note and throws it across the room. He's not in the mood to deal with Blice's self-pity today. Oh, and he's not eating the damn pancakes. As he gets dressed, he watches his reflection in the mirror and it's sickening. He is one of the people who deem it acceptable and even necessary to abuse him. Even wearing this triangular insignia with the tiny daisy in the middle makes him hate himself. Is he part of the problem by joining these people? According to his newfound memories, he joined years ago by Blice's request.
Isidore stayed up all night going over some of the memories and he hates Blice more now than he ever has. Apparently one night Blice beat him so bad that he spent three days in the hospital from burns to his legs. But then there were the other times, the ones where it was just Blice and Isidore together somewhere far from Paradise and they were happy together, joking, singing, and talking about their plans for the future. Who is the real Blice McSage?
Isidore checks himself in the mirror one last time before going to the door and stepping outside into the purified air of Paradise under the sapphire sky. The people are already busy driving by in their cars and walking down the rows of homes and boutiques. Everyone is happy and content to be living in the greatest city on Earth.
Blice has his sunglasses on and joins Isidore's side. "This is your first time to attend an Inquisition Council Meeting so I figured I'd give you some information. Everyone will be watching you and me because I am the Master Director. Don't worry. No one will touch you. Just let me take care of everything. The technology department will give a quick report about their findings, the space division will lay out their plan for sending a group up to the space station, then I will give an overall summary of everything. When I give you the cue, you will stand and say something to the council about how you want to help the other T.I.M.E.s and why you think you need to be a part of the group that goes up there. Can you do that?"
He wasn't planning on speaking to the entire Inquisition today. What can he say? Now Isidore is even more nervous than he was before. Not only does he have to be in the same room as the people who hate him, he now has to talk to them? Isidore doesn't say anything. He follows Blice down the streets and tries to formulate something, anything he can say to them.
"Can you say anything?" Blice asks again.
"I'll do what I have to."
* * *
Blice throws open the tall golden doors and goes inside. The shouting and cheering almost knocks Isidore off of his feet. He follows behind Blice and tries to not look at all of the inquisitors who whisper and point at him. Isidore never realized how many inquisitors there are in Paradise. Rows and rows of chairs and desks fill the expansive room. There must be five thousand inquisitors in this building. Up at the front of the room hang long golden banners with the triangle and daisy embroidered on them. Isidore feels sick. They walk up to the front of the room where Blice takes his place at the single golden desk on the stage facing the others. He motions for Isidore to join him to his right.
Blice pats him on the shoulder and leans close to whisper to him. "It's okay. Don't be nervous. You're one of them."
No. Isidore will never be one of them. He shares their uniform and their title, but nothing more. When Blice takes off his sunglasses, Isidore does as well and immediately misses the protection they provided from the glares and prying eyes that don't look away from him. He is grateful when Blice stands and holds up his hands to silence them all.
"Welcome, my brothers and sisters of the Inquisition. We are gathered here today to discuss the recent events surrounding a T.I.M.E. space transport that was found crashed outside of Rubble City four day
s ago. Inside this transport, we discovered a hastily written note from what is believed to be one of the T.I.M.E.s working on the space station. In that letter, it describes the troubling events that have been occurring on board the space station. I have been in contact with the Outlander Forces and we have decided to work together in a joint effort to solve the issues and bring balance back to our space program. As an extension of our cooperation with the Outlander Forces, we are moving forward with the first step in activating W.A.N.D. For those of you who are new to our ranks, the World Annihilation Negation Decoy is designed to mimic Earth and draw in any and all weapons of mass destruction in the event that global tensions grow to that extreme again. It has been put in place in order to prevent another nuclear holocaust like the one that happened two hundred years ago. As you know, we were lucky back then and had the technology to neutralize most of the fallout and kept radiation levels under control. If we are able to fully develop W.A.N.D., we will not need to go through that tedious and expensive process again. Now, I sent the transport to the technology center to be analyzed. Inquisitor Adams, what report do you have for us?"
An inquisitor with a balding head stands and bows. "There was nothing out of the ordinary on board or in the composition of the transport. It is a simple, standard issue space transport." He flips through some papers on his desk and holds one up. "There were traces of blood on the inside of the cabin and on the fuselage. We were unable to match the DNA with any of the T.I.M.E.s on record. We are running tests on the DNA of every inquisitor who has had any contact with the program and we will have those results within twenty-four hours."
"Good. Thank you." Blice points at a woman in a long white lab coat. "Inquisitor Lifestone, what do you have to report?"
Lifestone? Clara? Isidore squints and looks at her. He barely recognizes her with her black hair in a tight bun on top of her hair and with thick rimmed glasses on. He relaxes a little, knowing that she's here. She's still so beautiful.
Clara stands and bows then pushes her glasses back up her nose. "Master Director, I have analyzed the handwriting on the letter from inside the transport and I have troubling news. Even with all the samples I have from the T.I.M.E.s and from our inquisitors, I was not able to identify a match for the writing. I will keep this simple to understand. Whoever wrote this has a very unique way of writing the capital letters of words. They almost resemble patters found in other languages."
"What other languages?"
"Sir, code green."
Blice nods his head and types something into his watch. The room is silent for a few moments. "I see. Thank you, Inquisitor Lifestone. Will the space division give us a report?"
A man with a cane stands and holds up a sheet of paper. "We have unanimously agreed that a small group of agents, three or four at most, be sent up to the space station to investigate the situation and report back their findings. The supposed oxygen leak is concerning, but not life-threatening at this point. We are continuing to monitor the levels on board the space station and everything else looks normal for now. There is one detail that can easily be explained by solar flares or some electronic interference. We haven't had any communication with the T.I.M.E.s in two months. I'm sure there is a simple and fixable explanation for this. We have run many scenarios through our computers and all of them point to the simplest and most favorable conclusions. As of right now, we agree that there is nothing to worry about and this is not a primary concern."
"Thank you, Inquisitor Clark. Does anyone else have a report to offer to the council?"
No one steps forward.
"Good. Based on all of your expert analysis, I believe that we will best serve Paradise, the Inquisition, and the T.I.M.E.s if we send a specialized group of men with certain abilities and talents to the space station to investigate and deliver a firsthand look into the supposed problems. I will be sending Chief Outlander Investigator Damien Montgomery and giving him the power to take one man of his choosing with him. I am also proposing that we send Inquisitor Williams with them. He is a T.I.M.E. and he will be able to better relate to the others while he is there. Not only that, but he is equipped with many programs that will prove useful to the team and the investigation. Inquisitor Williams, please address the council." Blice sits down and pats Isidore's back.
Now? What is he going to say? Isidore shakily stands and looks out over the sea of tan trench coats and glimmering insignias. His heart is racing as he searches for words. "Hello. I am Inquisitor Williams and . . . I will do my best for the Inquisition and the T.I.M.E.s. I will do what I can to ensure this problem is sorted out and fix it. Um . . . this is my first time here and I am learning what all this is about and I won't let you down." "Thank you, Inquisitor Williams." Blice stands again. "I will be sending my team in three days. In that time, I need a transport for three men ready to go and provisions should be delivered to the space division headquarters. President Evans has already given his consent for this endeavor and your vote is the only authorization left that needs to be addressed. So, I call a vote. If you agree that this is an urgent issue that the Inquisition needs to investigate as soon as possible, vote yes. If you believe that our efforts should be focused elsewhere, vote no."
Blice turns around and watches the large screen as the votes come in. Four thousand eighty-seven to nine hundred and thirteen. He grins and claps his hands. "All right. Thank you all for your votes and we will continue with this plan, then. There is one more piece of business we need to discuss and that is about the rejuvenation ring. I know that someone in this room has information regarding its whereabouts. I don't care who you are or why you know the information you do, but I will give you until the end of the week to either return the ring to me or tell me any and all information you know. There will be no repercussions and no punishments. I won't ask questions and no one will ever know the identity of the people who come forward. That ring is extremely important and can be used as a terrible weapon in the wrong hands. That is all. Until I call another meeting, you are all dismissed."
Isidore breathes a sigh of relief. It's over. Thank God. He sinks down in his chair and tries to avoid the group of inquisitors that comes up to Blice and shake hands while talking and joking about whatever it is inquisitors joke about. Isidore looks up when he hears his name and someone holds out his hand to him.
"Nice to meet you, Inquisitor Williams." It's Inquisitor Clark from the space program.
Isidore stands and shakes his hand. "You too, sir."
He turns to Blice. "Your computer is well trained. Good work. He seems like quite the gentleman."
"Thank you." Blice says. "I try my best. He really is the best computer I could ask for."
"You programmed him yourself, right? His peaceful demeanor is a reflection of your talents, Master Director."
"Well, thank you. But I can't take all the credit. Inquisitor Williams is a good man."
"Computer." Inquisitor Clark says.
Blice glares at him. "I will call him what I want to call him, Inquisitor Clark."
"Don't forget that he's not a person. It's not good to allow him to believe that he is one of us."
"He is an inquisitor just as you and everyone else in this building is." Blice says. "I will treat him as such when we are in the presence of other inquisitors."
He shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself."
"You should really show more respect to your superiors, Clark."
Inquisitor Clark bows. "Forgive me, Master Director. I was only trying to help."
Someone touches Isidore's shoulder and he turns around. Clara.
She bows and holds her hand out to Blice. "Master Director, may I have a word with Inquisitor Williams?"
"Go ahead." He turns back to the crowd of inquisitors.
Clara leads Isidore over to the corner of the room and hugs him. "Look at you. You make a handsome inquisitor."
Isidore pushes her away. The last thing he wants to do is make Blice angry in front of other inquisitors. "Thank you, I gue
ss."
"So, are you excited about going into space and meeting with the other T.I.M.E.s?"
"If it gets me away from Blice, I'm thrilled."
"He's not a bad man, Isidore. He cares for you." Clara says.
Isidore looks down at the burgundy carpet. "Sure."
"Did something happen between you two? He told me you are friends."
He pulls her close and whispers to her. "He punished me after he found out about you kissing me."
"Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
"It's fine. I got what I deserved."
Clara laughs. "It couldn't have been bad. He would never physically hurt you."
Isidore isn't smiling.
"Isidore?"
"Forget I said anything."
Blice calls for him. "Inquisitor Williams, we should be going now. I have to prepare you for your mission."
"Goodbye, Clara."
She squeezes his hand. "I'll see you later, Isidore."
7
Damien comes back into the motel room and laughs as he looks through some documents on his sensor. "Hey, Byron . . . ever wanted to go into space?"
He finishes his Alezi Blue tequila and gives Damien a questioning look. "No."
"Well, get used to the idea. You're coming with me and some inquisitor to the space station."
"Why the hell do you need me?" Byron asks as he cleans his sawed-off shotgun.
"Well, the inquisitor is there to deal with the T.I.M.E.s, I'm there to help investigate for the Outlander Force, and you will be there for brute force in case things get rough." Damien says.
"So I'm like your body guard."
"Well . . ."
Byron jumps up. "Awesome! Do I get a cool space weapon?"
"Um, sure. When your shotgun is in space, it will be an awesome space weapon."
"What about gravity? Will the shot just float there?"
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 32