Of course, if you were really hurt, Santino wouldn’t let you stay here alone. You’re at his house.
Andrew left through the front door, covering his head with his arms to try and keep off the rain. In the car, he shook the water from his hair before pulling out.
How badly injured must you be if you haven’t been able to come home for three weeks? But don’t worry. You’ll get this … this awful thing out of me before it becomes worse. You’ll help me figure out what to do about killing Robert. And then I’ll stay with you. You can come home and whatever he did to you, I’ll take care of you, Oz.
The idea was fantastic, overwriting so much of the ugly situation. Robert had expected Andrew to take care of him and Simon. There’d been no choice. But he wanted to care for Oz. He wanted to lie in bed with Oz’s head in his lap and run his hands through his hair. To wrap his arms around his chest and be held close. To feel the warmth of his breath as he said Andrew’s name before kissing him.
Santino opened the door after only two knocks. He stared at Andrew as if he were a ghost.
“Andrew?”
The clothes. The God-awful clothes.
Andrew crossed the threshold and scanned the living room. “Where’s Oz?”
He’d expected Oz to be on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table and a highball glass in his hand. But the couch was empty. And the house didn’t smell like his cigarettes.
Andrew turned to Santino.
He looked different. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was slack. He’d seemed ten feet tall before, but now his posture sagged and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets.
“Where’s Oz, Santino?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone?” There was a sharp pain in the back of Andrew’s throat, and he struggled to contain a sob. “He’s dead?”
Santino took so long in answering. He stood there, wetting his lips while his eyes filled with tears.
For Andrew, the room spun. He wanted to drop to his knees and scream. Rip the hair from his head and beat his fists into the ground until they bled.
Never again would Oz swagger through the door, a gin in his hand and a smirk on his face. Or tap his cigarette ash while a snarky comment sailed unfiltered from his head. His hand wouldn’t be there for Andrew to catch as he tried to leave the room. No chest to lean his cheek against or hair to curl his fingers around. A hundred thousand tiny things were lost. The future held pockets of time that could’ve been spent with him and would remain forever empty.
In the back of his mind, the overshadowing image and feeling – Untitled (Black on Grey). The multiform’s deep black descending into gray, a thin aura of white separating the sections. Darkness and death. The end of everything.
I should’ve turned the gun on myself. Why didn’t I do it when I had the chance? I can’t make it alone. Without him there’s nothing. Nothing—
“He’s not dead,” Santino said. “Worse.”
Andrew held his breath. What had been “worse” for him had already happened. But what was “worse” for Oz? For Santino? For Tinks?
Santino nodded. “CryoLife has him.”
*
“Your optimism is inspiring, but naïve.”
Half an hour later, Tinks sat with them in Santino’s living room. It was evident that Oz’s absence had impacted him as well, but the sadness on his face was different from the despair that weighed on Santino. Tinks appeared to have the cold acceptance of defeat, while Santino still seemed to be reeling from the shock and loss.
“It’s not naïve. If he’s not dead, we could still save him.”
“No, you don’t understand, Andrew.” Tinks turned to Santino and was able to catch his lax eye contact. “And you don’t want to hear this. But he is dead.”
“You don’t know that,” Andrew insisted.
“He’s been gone for three weeks. They admitted him to Savannah General with—”
Tinks stopped when Santino cleared his throat. He’d barely spoken and his voice was slow and stumbling, as if he wasn’t fully cognizant of their presence.
“After I didn’t reach you in time, I went to the hospital. I saw him there. Unconscious in the bed. They said he’d be okay. That they’d call when he woke so I could come get him. I left, to try and find you. I knew if you weren’t there, he’d be upset. I tried. To find you.” Santino choked on the words and brought his hands to his face. “But when they didn’t call for so long I came back. And Oz was gone. The bed empty. He was already gone.”
Tinks stood and crossed the room. He sat next to Santino on the couch and put an arm around his shoulder as he hunched over. Tears fell through his fingers onto the carpet. And everyone was silent until Santino raised his head. Again, he spoke as if to no one.
“I called everyone. Tapped every person I knew of in his network to find out what had happened. They’d transferred him to the CryoLife building at Brigman’s request.”
“But that doesn’t mean he’s dead. They could be holding him and—”
“Why?” Tinks looked at Andrew. “For what reason would they hold onto him? Why keep him alive? Or rather, why keep anything but his brain alive? He’s gone. If and when he walks out those doors, he could be anything. But you can be damn sure he won’t be the person he was. Oz is dead.”
“He never wanted this.” Santino covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes still watery. “He didn’t want to be reanimated. And I promised him I wouldn’t let that happen. I promised him.”
“But we don’t know. I see your point, Tinks. I do. But maybe they haven’t done it yet. Maybe we could still save him.”
Tinks turned and raised an eyebrow. “What are you imagining? We storm their castle and find him chained in a dungeon? Is that what you’re expecting? He’s dead, Andrew. He’s a brain in a fucking jar. Where will you find him? In inventory. Floating in some fucking green goo. That’s what you’ll be strapping to your fucking steed as you ride off into the sunset. A brain in a goddamn jar.”
He was right. Probably. But it was the uncertainty that kept Andrew believing. Until he saw it, it wasn’t real and he hovered over that translucent sliver of white hope. No, Oz wasn’t shackled in a CryoLife dungeon. But he wasn’t an organ swimming in a vat of preservative either.
“We could try,” Andrew said. “He’d want us to try. He’d want us to—”
“He’d want to die. He was my best friend.” Santino bit his lower lip and continued. “He’d rather die than let his father bring him back. Even if he is … gone. We could still try to give him what he’d want.”
There was another silence as each of them sorted the options. Finally, Tinks was the first to speak:
“If we break in, there’s a chance we won’t make it out. Do you understand that, Andrew?”
What they feared had become of Oz could happen to any of them. Death and reanimation. Or just death. But what waited for Andrew if he did nothing? Loneliness. A return to being an unloved freak. Without even Robert to pseudo-love the outer Natalie shell, he had no support. And, considering the circumstances behind there being no Robert, sooner or later the police would be after him. So then there was jail time. And during that, the “worse” would come to fruition. Oyster Liver expanding and leaving the canvas to devour what little of life remained.
He imagined how it’d be. Whether in an orange jumpsuit or street clothes. Though he knew it was there, he couldn’t feel it. Yet. He could cut his hair. He could change his name. But he wouldn’t be able to cloak the alien inside, warping the body for its own use. Robert was dead, but the child would continue to take control and rape his identity. That mass would grow bigger and bigger and—
“Yes, I know.” Andrew shoved the thoughts from his head. “But if he’s not alive, neither am I.”
Chapter 45
Though Red had cautioned him in removing Robert’s wallet from his corpse, Andrew was glad he’d done it. In the midst of trying to concoct a plan to break into the Center—
“It’s a goddamn fortress.” Tinks had his hands in his hair. “There’s the protesters and the guards at front. And if we’re able to force our way in, we won’t get far enough to find him.”
“What about the east entrance connected to the hospital?”
“It’s secure. Steel doors. You need a swipe.”
Andrew had folded open Robert’s wallet, and there it gleamed – the visitor’s pass that’d enabled him to continue avoiding the activists when he made his visits to Zuniga and Brigman.
There was no further reason to delay their plan. Every second counted to both save Oz and avoid premature capture by the authorities, who’d be seeking Robert’s murderer. Armed with the visitor’s pass and Tinks’s vest, Santino drove them to Savannah General.
As Santino parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt, Tinks reached from the backseat and touched the man’s arm.
“Not you,” he said.
“Why?” Santino asked and Andrew could see his face starting to fold.
“You’re not ready to die. I am. So is he.” Tinks tipped his head in Andrew’s direction and then smiled. “Also, best case scenario, having the engine running would be helpful.”
Santino cupped his hand under his nose to hide his mouth. Without saying anything, he put his other hand atop Tinks’s and squeezed it before turning to Andrew.
They regarded each other for a few moments, and it crossed Andrew’s mind that perhaps, somewhere inside, Santino was angry with him. After all, if Andrew had never lived, there wouldn’t have been a Robert to take revenge on Oz, and Oz would’ve never fallen into CryoLife’s hands. He’d still be playing snooker, drinking, and making road trips to South Carolina for cadavers with his best friend. Santino had a right to be furious and blame Andrew for taking that away.
It really is my fault.
“I’m sorry,” Andrew said.
“For what?”
“For existing. If I hadn’t, he’d—”
“I knew Oz for seven years. And he existed all that time. But with you, he actually lived.” Santino gave a broken smile, but there was warmth in it. “And never apologize for having existed. You are not some freak of nature or CryoLife mistake. You’re the man who made my best friend come alive. And that’s what I always wanted for him.”
Andrew didn’t know what to say.
“If I don’t see you, it was my pleasure to have known you.” He extended his hand. “Andrew.”
He was still lost for words. But he leaned over the console and hugged him. It was a different embrace compared to Robert or Oz – a firm hug between friends. Equal male friends. Santino squeezed his shoulders, patting his upper back a couple times. And he experienced that remarkable feeling of acceptance and belonging. He was “one of the guys.”
“Thanks, Santino,” Andrew said.
He hung on to the man until Tinks tapped his arm. When he released him, they both smiled.
Tinks opened his door and Andrew unbuckled his seatbelt, doing the same.
Once more Tinks leaned in the car. “Don’t forget to keep the engine running.”
*
The visitor’s pass worked perfectly, and the side mouth of the steel beast opened.
“No going back.” Tinks turned to Andrew. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“And surrender isn’t an option. Either we find him alive and are able to escape, or I’m blowing the place. With you and everyone else in it.”
“What do you think it feels like to explode?” He’d been curious but hadn’t wanted to ask in front of Santino. “Will it hurt?”
“If you’re worried about that, go back to the car.”
“I’m not worried about it. I just wonder.”
“It won’t hurt if you stay close to me. There’s too much C4 for it to be anything but a flash.” Tinks stepped inside the doors. “Are you coming?”
A flash in comparison to the nightmare within me. And still only a possibility. Oz could be alive.
Andrew followed him, and the doors slid closed behind them.
They made their way quickly to Dr. Brigman’s office, where luck continued to be in their favor. Tinks pulled on the handle and pushed the door open. They stepped inside and Brigman looked up from his computer monitor as Andrew locked the door.
“Well, isn’t this an unexpected surprise.” The doctor remained seated. “Two of my old patients come to visit me and—”
Andrew had wondered how it would be coming face to face with this man again. Though he’d never witnessed Brigman’s true cruelty, he remembered Oz speaking of it. This man hadn’t only damaged them all, but he’d wounded Oz. Even before taking away his mathematical ability, Brigman had deeply injured him. And for the exact same reason that Robert had hurt Andrew – not living up to expectations. When he saw Brigman, he saw Robert. And it filled him with anger.
“Cut your shit!” Andrew took a step toward the desk. “We’re here for Oz. Where is he?”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Keller, but—”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that. My name is Andrew.”
The doctor gave a slow smile. His eyes ran down Andrew’s body, stopping on his midsection. “I think you’ll feel differently about that in a few months. But okay, Andrew.”
Andrew charged forward, reaching for Brigman. He was going to grasp him by the hair and slam his face into those fucking framed degrees. Then he’d throw him to the floor, take that computer and drive it into his chest. He’d use one of the metal corners to butcher him. Pounding, piece by fucking—
“Wait.” Tinks grabbed his arm to restrain him. “It’s not necessary.”
“Ah, Mr. Tinks. How’s the Polonaise treating you? Well?”
Andrew was surprised that Tinks didn’t release him and only smiled.
“That’s very funny. Excruciatingly funny. You know something else that’s also excruciatingly funny?” He removed his hand from Andrew and unzipped his black vest. He held both sides open, proudly displaying the lining of the two dozen flat packages. “Twenty-four pounds of C4. Well, maybe excruciatingly funny was the wrong phrase. Just excruciating works fine.”
The doctor pushed his rolling chair back.
“Sit, please. No need to be so hasty.”
But Brigman edged toward the door.
“I said sit down!” Tinks snapped out a plastic piece that’d been hanging from the inside of the vest. The ignition switch. He held it with his thumb hovering above a button on the end.
“I’ll blow it right now if you don’t sit your ass in that chair!”
“Okay, I’m listening.” Brigman backed up and sat, his eyes on Tinks’s chest. “What is it you want?”
Tinks tilted his head toward Andrew. “You heard the man, you son-of-a-bitch. Where’s our friend?”
“He’s not finished yet.” Brigman shrank into his chair. “He won’t be for a couple more months.”
Andrew understood Tinks’s expression when he looked at him.
But no, he still could be alive.
“Take us to him,” Andrew shouted. “We want to see him.”
The doctor resumed sole eye contact with Tinks.
Tinks wrinkled his forehead and darted a glance to Andrew, before nodding. “Yes. Take us. Wherever Oz is in this madhouse, you’re going to lead us there. Past every security door.”
Brigman stood, visibly shaking as he came around the desk.
“Can he be moved?” Andrew asked.
“No. I told you, he’s not finished.”
“Not whatever you’re trying to make him into. Him. The real him. Is he in any position to—”
The doctor shook his head. “I got rid of all that.”
“I got rid of all that.” Andrew felt a weight in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut until they ached. Oz’s hair. His eyes. His smile. His arms. His hands. All of that is gone?
No further confirmation was needed. Oz was dead. And like the fog slowly dissipating when he’d first woken into th
is nightmare, the last of Andrew’s fiercely preserved hope faded away.
When he opened his eyes, Tinks obviously felt the same, as he’d removed the ignition switch.
“No, wait, wait,” Brigman protested. “Wouldn’t you want to see him? I have a new one. You might—”
“I don’t want a new one!” Andrew’s fists were at his sides. “I want Oz how he was! There was nothing wrong with him! Nothing! He was perfect the way he was!”
“It is him. I promise.”
“Your promises are shit! You’re shit!”
“No, I swear.” The doctor looked between the two of them. “It looks just like him. I’m going to put everything back exactly the way it was before. Come look at him, you’ll see. You’ll be absolutely satisfied. We’ll …” He gave a nervous chuckle. “We’ll walk out of here as good friends and you can have him in a couple—”
“Shut up.” Tinks held up his hand for silence. “You forget who you’re talking to. We’re your previous experiments, not your customers. Do you think we’re going to allow you to manipulate us and continue to damage our friend? No one is walking out as friends. No one is walking out at all.” He put his hand to the door handle. “If you want to buy yourself five more minutes on this planet by taking us to whatever is left of Oz, do it. But you’ve destroyed your last life.”
Tinks pulled open the door, and Brigman solemnly walked through it.
*
It wasn’t a long journey. Tinks and Andrew flanked Brigman on either side as he led the way down the hall of Jackson Pollack tiles, past the offices and into the patient wing. He stopped before the last door on the right – coincidentally, across from what had been Andrew’s room.
“In there.”
“You go first.” Tinks removed the ignition switch from the vest. “This better be the one.”
Brigman walked into the room, and once they saw there was no ambush they entered as well.
It was plain. No cards, no balloons for well wishes. There was just a body completely covered under a white sheet and hooked to four machines.
Andrew remained near the wall, paralyzed as he watched the sheet. It rose slowly.
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