Days' End

by Scott L Collins

  Lost deep in these thoughts, Alastair surveyed the grounds. It was only then that he noticed a well-dressed man watching him, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree not too far off. Alastair realized that the man had been standing there through the entire ceremony, but he had, only now, truly noticed him. Alastair tried to ignore the man standing there staring at him but finally, after everyone else had left, he brushed the remaining dirt off his hands and walked over to the stranger.

  “Good afternoon,” said Alastair as he walked up next to the man.

  “Good afternoon,” the stranger replied, nodding in Alastair’s direction.

  “Did you know my father well?”

  “No. No, I can’t say I knew him at all actually. Still, it’s a shame he had to die,” he stated and turned to look at Alastair. “Bad things happen to good people. I see it much too frequently. Seems to happen mostly when someone starts poking around where they’re not wanted,” he finished, staring coldly at Alastair.

  Alastair’s breath caught in his chest for a moment at the realization of who he was speaking to. “Scario!” Alastair whispered.

  “Don’t do anything you might regret, Alastair. Remember, Nysa is still working for me. It would be unfortunate if we were to have an accident at the facility that resulted in her death.”

  It took all of Alastair’s willpower to not tear the man apart right there in the cemetery.

  “I can see this is difficult, for you but maybe what I’m about to tell you will help keep you and Nysa alive. The project is almost over. In roughly a month, you and your precious Nysa will be reunited. Of course, that is assuming I don’t have any more interference from you.” Scario stepped toward Alastair, leaned in, and whispered, “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes,” Alastair replied, barely able to control himself. His heart hammered in his chest, the noise echoing in his ears as he fought back the urge to rip the man’s throat out and dump him in his father’s grave. He knew that he couldn’t, that Nysa’s life would be in danger if he acted on his instincts. Instead he bit his lip—bit it until he could taste the warm coppery liquid oozing out of the groove where his teeth had just pushed through. The pain helped him to regain focus. “Perfectly.”

  “Very good. Goodbye, Alastair.” Scario turned and walked away, leaving Alastair seething with hatred.

  “I’ll see you again,” Alastair whispered to himself as he watched Scario stroll down the hill to the road. “I can promise you that.” There, at the bottom of the hill, waited another Rolls Royce like the one that had picked up Nysa for her trip to the airport, except this one was black. Scario turned and looked at him one last time as he climbed into the back seat. The driver shut the door, made his way around the car, climbed in, and drove slowly away.

  November 16,

  Outside Castle Rock, CO

  Jacqueline was just about to hit the thirty-week mark, and she and Nysa were very excited when they left the obstetrician’s office. The baby was now approximately fourteen inches long and three pounds. According to the doctor the baby’s lungs were beginning to function, and he now had a very good chance of survival even if born prematurely. Despite this, the doctor now wanted to see Jacqueline in two weeks to monitor the baby’s progress.

  What had thrilled them the most though was watching the ultrasound. This was the third time it had been done and they were still amazed to see the images of the baby in the womb. It had been difficult to tell, but it had looked like he had been sucking his thumbs. As they left the exam room, Nysa and Jacqueline were still chuckling about the baby not being content with just one thumb, greedily sucking away at both.

  Nysa chortled. “You just better hope he doesn’t want both your nipples in his mouth at once.” Jacqueline burst into a fit of laughter.

  “With these little things I don’t think that would even be possible,” replied Jacqueline as she pushed her breasts together. “He’d better be able to dislocate his jaw if he wants to get both of these in his mouth at the same time.”

  November 20, Grapeland, TX

  He was done grieving. Now was the time for retribution. Alastair wasn’t quite sure how powerful of a man Scario was, and he decided not to take any risks. He searched his father’s house for the gun he knew was there. Sure enough, in the back of the closet in the master bedroom, far back on the top shelf, there was a shoebox containing a revolver and box of ammunition. Alastair packed it with his belongings and got in the car.

  He had decided to drive back to Castle Rock rather than fly. If Scario was on the lookout for him, Alastair figured that driving would be less conspicuous and harder to track. If Alastair could get flight information, he was certain Scario could as well.

  November 21, Castle Rock, CO

  Alastair arrived back in Castle Rock the next morning. He quietly checked into a small motel on the edge of town and took his things inside. It had been arranged much like the room he’d shared with his dad, the most glaring difference being the presence of only one bed. The empty void in his chest began to slowly fill with grief. As he walked slowly around the room his eyes seemed to always drift back to the bed, lonely and solitary against the wall.

  He wanted a drink now more than anytime he could ever remember. He pushed the thought away, shoved it away. He knew one drink would be too many and a hundred wouldn’t be enough. The last thing he could afford to do at this point was slip back into active alcoholism. It would not bring his father back, and it sure as hell wouldn’t save Nysa.

  What he needed was sleep. It had been a very long trip and he was exhausted. He needed to rest before formulating a plan that had the remotest chance of success. He quickly undressed, climbed into bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep, filled with violent and unmerciful dreams.

  November 22, Castle Rock, CO

  It seemed the week had taken more out of him than he had realized. He’d slept straight through until the next morning. When he woke, he was ravenous. Alastair went out and had a big breakfast at his new favorite diner, the B&B Café, then returned to his motel room to arrange his plan of attack. He couldn’t just let Scario do as he pleased, but he also couldn’t put Nysa’s life in danger. He had to find a way to first find Nysa, and then get to her before Scario could. That was one reason why Alastair couldn’t go to the police with Scario’s threats. If Scario felt the police breathing down his neck even more, Nysa might be the one to suffer the consequences.

  One of the only links Alastair had to Scario was Stevens, and he was dead. But maybe there was something in the lawyer’s office that might tell him where Nysa went after she left the airport. The problem was getting in there. He was certain that the receptionist wouldn’t let him go rifling through Mr. Stevens’ office. Besides, the police had probably already taken anything they thought might be even remotely useful to the case.

  His only chance was to find something a bit more obscure than what the police had been looking for, and that meant he would need time to search the office. He decided to break in over the weekend. That would give him the time he needed to search the place without having to worry about employees. He could do it during the daytime so he wouldn’t have to be concerned about someone catching a glimpse of a flashlight through a window and calling the police.

  In the meantime, Alastair occupied his time by trying to hack into the computer system of the facility. He knew he’d be able to access it through the Internet, as one of the items that had been demanded at the time of purchase was the ability for someone outside the facility to access and control the system. It had seemed irresponsible at the time. Alastair had pointed out that it was an unnecessary risk and that it would make the system susceptible to attack from outside the compound. Why create that elaborate of a program and then not secure it from the outside world?

  Now he knew. Scario’s arrogance demanded it. Not only did he want to be able to see what was going on inside the building, he also wanted to be able to control the system if need be. He’d probably never need
to, quite honestly probably never should, but he wouldn’t give up the power to do so. This would now hopefully work in Alastair’s favor. Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was just a matter of filtering through all of the garbage on the Web to get to it. It would be a small miracle if he found it in time.

  I know that it was reckless and that I shouldn’t have done it, but the look on his face when he figured it out was priceless. I could see the conflict in him as he tried to control the rage that must have been eating at his insides like acid. Even taunting him a bit had not been able to cause him to snap. Maybe he will heed my warning though and stay in Texas. As Thomas is no longer available to carry out my tasks, it would be a hassle to have him disposed of. On the subject of Thomas, it’s unfortunate that I lost him on this last little errand. With Mr. Stevens’ body found and the killing of the old man, it’s only a matter of time before they look to me for answers. They have nothing that could incriminate me at the moment, but I don’t need the headache of them lurking about. With the way they tend to drag their feet, the project should be finished before they actually get around to making a serious search for me. This is all assuming Alastair doesn’t give them a reason to come for me sooner. Maybe I should have just killed him in Texas. It would have been easy enough for me. Never mind. It will all be irrelevant soon enough. Alastair won’t put Nysa’s life in danger, the project will be completed as planned, and nothing else will matter after that. The problems at the facility have lessened to a normal level. It would appear that I will have no more interference.

  November 24, Castle Rock, CO

  Alastair came in through the front door. He hadn’t figured out how to break into the office without crashing through a window so he had stolen the receptionist’s keys. Yesterday he’d followed her to lunch and while she’d been eating, Alastair paused by her table and bent down as if to tie his shoe. The keys had been sitting right on top in her purse and he had grabbed them and continued on his way out of the restaurant. He felt bad that she would be inconvenienced by the fact that he also had her car and house keys, but he figured she might have objected if he’d asked her which one was for the office so that he could steal it.

  He locked the door behind him, thankful that no additional security measures appeared to have been taken. A burglar alarm would have put a very large fly in his ointment. The blinds were already closed, so he didn’t have to worry about anybody looking in and seeing him. Although the office was dim, he was still able to see and would now have the time to make a proper search of the premises.

  Checking the computer files was impossible as the police had taken the hard drives with them to review at the station. There were also no day organizers, desk calendars, or client files. Alastair went through one drawer after another, but he could tell that he’d have to be lucky to find anything useful.

  After four hours of hunting, Alastair had found nothing of interest in Mr. Stevens’ office. While frustrated, he hadn’t really expected to find a large treasure map sitting on the attorney’s desk with an enormous X to mark the spot to find Scario. He walked out of the lawyer’s office and sat at the receptionist’s desk to contemplate his next move. Where could he go from here? Who could he talk to?

  As he grappled with these questions his eyes found the rolodex sitting on the corner of the reception desk. He might be able to find someone in there. He flipped through the cards, looking for anything he might recognize or that looked out of place. He skimmed through it once and found nothing. He was dejected, but decided to give it one more look. There it was, his one shred of hope. There was one card for a car service. He took the card and put it in his pocket, hoping that upon arrival at the airport Mr. Stevens had reserved a car to transport the doctors to the facility.

  Alastair then wiped down all the surfaces he could remember touching and, as casually as he could manage, left the offices and locked the door behind him. He felt confident. He had two viable leads to pursue in his quest to find Nysa, the car service and through hacking. He’d spent so long feeling as if he were chasing his tail, but now his mind raced with possibilities and plans of attack. If one avenue didn’t work, he’d still have the other. However, to ensure his success, he decided to attack each as if it were his only hope. In this way, he hoped to maximize the chances of success.

  November 30,

  Outside Castle Rock, CO

  The biggest news traveling through the labs that morning was the discovery of Dr. Leyden’s body the previous day. The cleaning crew had found him crucified to the wall above his bed. Only a few details of the violent death were known. His face was a mask of terror, eyes wide open staring at the empty room, mouth agape in a silent scream. The wall to which he had been nailed was stained with blood but, although the wound to his abdomen extended all the way through his back, there was no mark on the wall from the weapon. Blood flowed down his legs and dripped into a crimson pool on his pillow.

  The maids who found him were silently and quickly removed from the premises—to where, nobody knew. Rumors flew around the facility, each as absurd as the next. Some people thought that he had done something to compromise the project and was eliminated for his insubordination, but the most outlandish Nysa heard was that Jacqueline had killed him in a jealous rage.

  Nysa took the news hard. She had not been particularly fond of Dr. Leyden, but he was a fine doctor and a decent human being. While he was curt at times with her, Mary Alice, and Laura, she’d figured him for a lonely man who had trouble relating to others. She wanted to go to services for him, but she could find nobody who knew when, or even if, there was going to be a funeral for him. For that matter, nobody even seemed to know where the body had been taken. Nysa asked several of the people who appeared to work directly for Mr. Scario, including Bekki, but no one seemed to know anything about whether or not there would be an internment of any sort.

  Nysa struggled with the apparent lack of remorse over Dr. Leyden’s death and the sense that the tragedy was disregarded not only by the staff of the facility, but the other members of the medical team, his own coworkers and peers. She decided to hold a silent vigil in her room. It seemed an absurdly small token, but it was better than nothing. She sat alone for roughly an hour before getting up and leaving her room.

  She took a walk around the facility to clear her head. She needed to be back soon to go to the obstetrical appointment with Jacqueline, but she needed time to straighten her thoughts out. She made sure to not stray too far from the building as she didn’t want to run in to any of the guards. When it was time to meet Jacqueline, Nysa returned to her room, changed for the appointment, and escorted her friend to the clinic.

  The baby was still progressing normally, so most of the appointment revolved around Restless Leg Syndrome and the constant pain in Jacqueline’s lower back. For both, the doctor recommended massage treatments. He advised her to make sure that the masseuse or masseur was one of the ones trained in pregnancy massage however, as they could inadvertently trigger a premature labor if they weren’t careful.

  Jacqueline and Nysa both agreed that massages sounded like a good idea and walked together to the spa facilities, chatting idly about how the weather had turned much colder and how they were looking forward to getting home.

  “Not that it’ll be much warmer where I’m headed to,” said Jacqueline as she walked onto the elevator and hit the button for the proper floor. “Maybe I’ll just go home with you to sunny southern California where people put sweaters on if it falls below seventy, which would be about twice a year from what I understand.”

  “Don’t let all the talk fool you. It fell below seventy at least seven days last year, and I think it even fell below sixty one day. I couldn’t say for sure because I wouldn’t go outside. It looked much too cold for me.” They both laughed and walked into the spa.

  It was a wonderful day of massage, milk baths, and facials. By the time they were done, any thoughts or sorrow over Dr. Leyden’s violent death had been temporarily forgott
en. They finished up and went back to Jacqueline’s room. There they sat on the bed eating ice cream and watching old movies. Having gorged themselves on Häagen Dazs and still relaxed from the spa treatments, they both drifted off to sleep.

  I am still trying to find out what happened to Dr. Leyden. I find the manner in which he died most disturbing. Who would do such a thing and why? For now my only option is to have the staff continue their investigation despite the lack of results thus far. Hopefully the medical team will forget about it and focus on their work. It’s not the fact that the good doctor was crucified that bothers me. It’s the lack of evidence and circumstances surrounding his murder that concern me. The missing mark on the wall that the staff seems to have become aware of is merely the tip of the iceberg. As of yet, the security team has been unable to locate the usage of a keycard to gain access to Dr. Leyden’s room. The logical answer to that problem is that the person who did this horrendous deed was known to the good doctor and he let the murderer into the room. That, however, does not explain the fact that there are also no keycard usages on the elevators to pick up nor drop off passengers during the timeframe in question. How did they get to his floor? How did they leave? There are no answers to these questions. The staff must not know of these mysteries. There is entirely too much talk as it is. If they find out about the other oddities it will only distract them further. Nothing can take their attention away from the task at hand. They must complete what they have started.

  December 6, Castle Rock, CO

  It took quite a few phone calls and numerous trips to the airport, but Alastair managed to confirm that the car company had in fact been used to transport the doctors to the facility. The car company manager told him that they did not have a record of the destination of the trips, only a point of origin. The scheduling clerk did remember that Mr. Stevens was quite secretive when it came to that information and paid quite handsomely to give it to the driver only at the time of pick up. Apparently Mr. Stevens had also insisted that only one driver be used to make all of the trips. That was all the information Alastair had been able to get out of her though.