Ollie heard the voice again. Say no one.
After an inner struggle, Ollie finally answered, “No one. Not even Lydia. I’m the only one who knows about this. If Lydia knew, wouldn’t she have done something about it by now? Think about it.”
Good.
Ollie didn’t think it was “good” at all. In fact, he thought it was bad. Very bad. If Ollie was the only one who knew anything about this, there’d be no reason to keep him around. He was a goner, that he knew. Why did he listen to that voice? Was there really even a voice at all?
“Let’s go.”
Miguel stood and took Ollie by the arm. Ollie wasn’t surprised. He was pretty sure he was being led to his death, wherever that might be. Ollie stood up and allowed Miguel to lead him out of the observation room and back into the winding halls of what he now knew was Breemont.
“Right under my nose,” he thought. “How did I not find it right under my very own nose.”
After several doors and a few elevators, to Ollie’s surprise, he was led through the main floor of the building in plain view. Miguel let go of Ollie’s arm.
Play it cool, he heard. Just wait.
Just wait, Ollie thought. Just wait for what? A bullet?
When you pass by the nurses’ station, ask the first person you see to show you to the bathroom. Be cool.
“Be cool?” Ollie thought. He was certain it wasn’t his own subconscious speaking to him. He’d never say “Be cool”. Ollie figured it couldn’t hurt. He was pretty sure Miguel wouldn’t off him right there in front of the staff of Breemont. Or would he? Was everyone in on this?
They approached the nurses’ station. Ollie surveyed the area. No one was there! Maybe he was crazy after all! Any chance for escape—though he wasn’t sure how asking to use the restroom was an acceptable escape plan—dwindled from Ollie’s hopeful heart. Just as they passed the countertop in front of the desks, an orderly rounded the corner. He passed by in a hurry to get to somewhere—must have been a call light blinking somewhere down the hall. Ollie watched him pass.
Ask him. Ask now!
“Excuse me,” Ollie yelled in the orderly’s direction.
Miguel gave Ollie a look that said, “Don’t try anything, or so help me…”
The orderly spun around and approached Miguel and Ollie. “Can I help you, sir?”
Miguel waited on the ready.
“Yes, yes you can, uh,” Ollie read the name tag, “Jamil. Would you please show me to the restroom?”
Miguel, who had tensed in preparation for whatever Ollie was trying to pull, relaxed. The old man just needs to take a leak. Better than letting him piss himself in my car, he chuckled to himself.
Jamil answered with a huge smile, “Of course, sir. Follow me.” Jamil ushered them down the hall in the direction he’d been traveling before Ollie had interrupted him. Ollie hoped wherever Jamil had been headed to do could wait just a moment. Jamil turned right down a short hall and pointed to the men’s room. “There, sir.”
“Thank you, dear boy,” Ollie said reveling in what would probably be his last human interaction with someone other than his murderer. Ollie smiled and nodded before pushing open the hinged door. Jamil did the same and turned to leave.
Inside were two stalls and a countertop with an automatic sink and a mirror above it. First Ollie entered, and Miguel followed behind him. Ollie was relieved to see there were no urinals, only stalls, since he didn’t really have to use the facilities.
Now what? Ollie thought as he entered a stall and slid the lock into place. He turned to face the commode, since he was quite certain he was being watched. He shook his head and wondered what Lydia would think of the predicament he’d found himself in. I shouldn’t have listened, he thought. There is no voice.
As if to answer, he heard it again: Stay there until I tell you to come out. No matter what you hear.
It definitely wasn’t Miguel’s voice. Ollie shook his head again and decided he’d stay in there until someone told him to come out, thought he assumed that it would be Miguel.
Just then, he heard the hinged door creak open. Ollie perked up and listened intently.
“Wait, what?” a confused Miguel asked.
There was a quiet scuffle. Ollie bent to look under the stall door. He saw to sets of legs. Ollie thought it looked as if they were dancing—it was almost comical, except for the fact that Miguel was a cold blooded killer. After a few seconds of waltzing, one set of legs slumped and a body soon followed. Lying on his side, with his eyes wide open in a dead stare was Miguel. Ollie bolted straight up and held his breath, unsure if this was good news or bad.
“Come out,” he heard from a no longer disembodied voice.
Ollie, realizing there were no other options, obliged. The metallic slide and clank of the lock opening echoed in the small room. He pulled back the stall door with caution. When he did, he was face to face with...
“Jamil?” Ollie stammered.
Jamil ignored Ollie’s disbelief. “Move.”
Ollie did. Jamil pulled Miguel’s large frame into the stall and propped his lifeless body on the seat so that if anyone came in, they’d see an occupied stall instead of a dead body on the floor. Jamil estimated this would buy them several hours before anyone at Breemont—more specifically, anyone affiliated with GES—would notice anything had gone awry. Jamil pulled the stall door closed and placed his hand on the front of the cold metal. Ollie heard the metallic slide again. Had he really just locked the stall door from the outside?
“Did you…” Ollie began, but stopped short when he saw what happened next. Jamil winked at Ollie, squinted his eyes closed as tightly as he could and opened them again blinking blurrily into his new body. Jamil looked at himself in the mirror, brushed a few stray hairs back into place, and straightened his suit.
“You…but how did you?…you look like Miguel!” Ollie was astonished. Could this really be happening?
“Be cool,” Jamil-now-Miguel grinned as he pulled the hinged door open and led Ollie out of the side hall, turning left into the main hall. They passed by the nurses’ station again. Luckily, there was still no one there. Jamil led Ollie right out of the main doors and into the parking garage. No one even tried to stop them! Ollie couldn’t believe it.
“Believe it,” Jamil half smiled.
They approached a black four door Sonata. Ollie questioned Jamil with a look. “Not mine.” He half-smiled again and held up keys which he jingled playfully in his hand. “Mine.” Jamil pointed to his “new” face.
The doors unlocked with the click of a button. Jamil opened the door for Ollie, who for anyone who may have been watching, was “Miguel’s” captive. Jamil closed the door and got in the other side. They pulled out of the lot unceremoniously.
When they were far enough from the garage that Jamil felt safe, he returned to his true appearance.
“What is going on? Are you one of them? Are you GES?” Ollie inquired. His head was spinning. He had so many questions.
“I’m under their radar. They don’t know who I am.”
“But how?”
“When I was eight years old, my parents and I went on vacation. We were sailing off the coast of Jupier, Florida. I was angry because my dad wouldn’t let me help hoist the sail. I was pouting when an unexpected storm blew up. Our sailboat went down, and so did my parents. My life jacket kept me afloat for days. I wound up in the Bahamas. A nice woman found me and raised me, and here I am.”
“But….” Ollie couldn’t collect his thoughts enough to respond.
“Just kidding. I was born this way. My parents are alive and well somewhere in Montana. I’m a part of a minute population of the world who can tap into more than the average 10% of our brains that most humans use. I’ve been searching for others like me, but have yet to find them. You’d think it’d be easier since we’re so super smart and all.”
“Why aren’t you with your parents?”
“Touchy subject. They couldn’t handle my, uh, e
ccentricities. Emancipated myself the day I turned sixteen. Didn’t bother them much. It’s okay, though I get it.”
“How did you end up here, so close to Breemont…inside Breemont.”
“I suspected something was up. I noticed teenagers were coming up missing all over the world. I started to follow some leads and ended up here. I was able to manipulate a situation that required my parents to move here—see, the super-smarts do help sometimes,” he said, tapping his head. “—and then I found Breemont. I’ve been collecting information for months. If I could just get a list of names or locations, or better yet, both, I’d be able to help these people. As far as I can tell, they’ve been unwillingly subjected to human trials to genetically alter their DNA and then being brainwashed to accept their new “roles” as soldiers.”
Ollie was floored. It was everything he’d been tracking for the last few years. Except this kid was so much closer to the truth than Ollie had been. If they could team up, they’d be able to start rescuing these kids…telling them who they really are and what they’re really capable of.
“That’s the plan, Ollie,” Jamil said.
Ollie’s mouth dropped open, but no words fell out.
“Oh, sorry. I was listening in. It’s hard to turn off sometimes.” He shook his head a few times. “There, that’s better. Sorry to intrude.”
“No. No. It’s alright. It’s quite alright. It’s amazing, actually. What else can you do? Can you do what Owen and Diane can do?”
Jamil’s lighthearted expression darkened into a scowl. “No. Well, yes, but never the way they do it. I’m not a GES like them. I’d like to think of myself as a rogue agent. Got a nice ring to it. Anyway, they’re not good people. They’ve swallowed this whole GES thing hook, line, and sinker.” Jamil merged onto the highway. “I only do bad things to bad people, and only when they deserve it.”
“I understand.” Ollie answered. He was pretty sure he knew what kind of people they were dealing with.
“If there’s ever a way to save them, I will, but I think it’s too late. They’re far too integrated into the system.”
“Have you uncovered any information detailing how these soldiers will be used?” Ollie asked.
“Yes. It’s not good. Spies, espionage, and full on war.”
“War?”
“Yes. When World War III breaks out, it will be the United States who strikes first. I’m not even sure if the government itself is fully aware of what GES agents are doing with these experiments. Too bad I can’t just walk into the president’s office and ask. Either A) He’s in on it, or B) He’s not and I’ll look crazy as a loon. Not to mention GES agents will be there to take me down instantaneously.”
Ollie digested this information. It was bigger than he’d thought, and now look at the mess he was in.
“I have a friend…”
“Lydia, I know.” Jamil broke in. “I’ve met her at Breemont on occasion.”
“She has a patient. I think her patient may be a part of Project GES.”
“I know that patient. A girl, Clara. Is that the one?”
“I never knew her name.”
“It is. It’s Clara. I’ve seen her too. Spoken with her several times. She’s definitely a part of the project, but I hate the idea of labeling her a GES. I’m hoping she’ll end up as more of a rogue like me.” He explained. “But first, we’ll need to rescue her.”
“They’ll be watching. They’ll figure out I’ve escaped and they’ll be watching her.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Ollie. We’ll come up with something. We can facilitate an escape. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?”
Ollie, unable to argue with that, shrugged his sore shoulders and winced. Adrenaline had worn off and he was feeling the full effects of the ample beating he’d received yesterday. Jamil noticed.
“Here, let me.” He placed his right hand on Ollie’s shoulder, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel. At first, Ollie didn’t know what Jamil was doing, but suddenly, the tightness in his shoulders released. The throbbing in his swollen eyes ceased. He pulled down the visor and watched the impossible. With just the touch of Jamil’s hand, Ollie’s injuries were healing. He watched the split across his bushy brow close and the bruises fade away. He touched his face in sheer disbelief.
Ollie didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you would be appropriate,” Jamil grinned. “I’m not eavesdropping. You just look at a loss for words is all.” He chuckled.
Ollie was, but he managed a thank you anyway.
“So it was you who wrote those messages on my wall? They were real?”
“Real to you.”
“And it was your voice I heard?”
“The one and only.”
Ollie smiled. “Wait til I tell Lydia,” he thought. He turned to Jamil. “We have to devise a plan, and we have to do it now.”
Jamil agreed. “Let me think.” Jamil sketched out a plan in his mind. “I’ll have to do it alone,” Jamil explained. “They’ll be looking for you.”
“Won’t they be looking for you too? I mean, they’ll notice when you don’t show up for work.”
“Super-smarts, remember?” Jamil said tapping his forehead. “Today was my last day. They’ll never know I’m “missing”.”
“Won’t they catch on? You quit your job at Breemont. Won’t they put two and two together?”
Jamil tapped his forehead again. “Nope,” he said and smiled his half smile.
Ollie accepted that Jamil knew what he was talking about. Jamil continued to hash out a plan as he drove. Finally he slapped Ollie on the knee.
“I’ve got it!”
Ollie raised his eyebrows in expectation.
“It’s perfect. Neither of us has to go back to Breemont. You can’t go, obviously. I can’t show my face around there either. If an ex-employee shows up unannounced and starts sniffing around one of their project patients, they’ll know something’s up for sure. This way, we have to wait, but we’re playing it safe for everyone involved.”
Ollie liked the sound of this plan already.
“The girl, Clara. She told me about a cabin once. It’s near here, actually. We’ll go there and wait.”
“But how does that help them?”
“We’ll draw her to the cabin. I can make it happen.”
“Are you going to “talk” to her like you did me?” Ollie asked.
“No. I wish I could. First of all, she’s medicated. It dampens her awareness. Also, I’m not close enough. I’d have to be within feet of her. I was hoping to have more time, but when Miguel brought you through, I knew I was out of time. I had to act then and there.”
“So how will you do it?”
“The locket. Clara wears a locket that has never opened around her neck. We’ll send your friend Lydia a key for the locket as a gift. A key and the quote Clara’s mother always said. She told me. Knowledge is the key to unlocking the past. When Clara reads it, it should be enough to draw them out.”
“But won’t they just use the key and realize it doesn’t open the locket? It will all be for nothing.”
“We’ll make it more difficult than that. We’ll put it in a paperweight. You’ll send the gift. I can change the postmark to the day before you disappeared. I know them. They’ll go ahead and pass it along, so that Lydia will think you are safe and sound somewhere chasing a crazy idea. It’ll work, I know it.” He tapped his forehead a third time. “When they realize the key doesn’t fit the locket, and there’s nowhere else to turn, she’ll go to the cabin. It’s the only safe place she knows.”
Ollie didn’t believe it would work, then instantly felt guilty. How many times was he sure of something only to be shot down by a doubting Thomas? This kid was going with his gut, and Ollie would go along for the ride.
In a small town along the way, they stopped and had a key made. Only Jamil entered the shop—disguised as someone else, of course. They then had that key encased in glass. Their next s
top was the post office where Jamil shipped off the packaged with the fudged date to Lydia Lindenhurtz at 417 Canal Street before stocking up on as many supplies as the Sonata would carry and drove to the cabin in the woods. They hid the car and stayed out of sight, waiting.
Chapter Twenty—BACK AT THE CABIN PRESENT DAY
There was a jingling of the door knob.
“That will be him.” Ollie smiled.
A young man with a slender build carrying a bag of groceries forced the door open. Lydia gasped while Clara dropped her fork.
“Jamil!” Clara cried. She ran to embrace him and then was immediately embarrassed. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. “I’m sorry. I’m just, I guess I’m excited to see a face that actually looks familiar.”
He dropped the bag of produce and hugged her back. “It’s alright. I’m happy to see you too.”
Clara let go and tiptoed back to the table with a bright, burning face. She hoped no one noticed.
“Jamil, please sit. Have some dinner.” Ollie offered.
Jamil took the empty spot at the table and heaped a healthy helping of fish and veggies onto his plate before digging in. “Thanks, Ollie, I was starving!”
“So, you knew the whole time? That’s why you talked to me? That’s why you wanted me to look at the book? You wanted me to know those weren’t my real parents, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I did.”
Jamil spent the rest of the evening filling Lydia and Clara in on the plan they formulated to get them to safety together in the cabin. After dinner, Clara and Lydia cleaned themselves up. It was long overdue after a car chase, a car accident, and two days stumbling through the woods. Clara seemed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and Jamil was out a few minutes later, but Ollie and Lydia stayed up to speak privately.
“Don’t you see?” he whispered. “All along, she’s been manifesting. With these children, they begin showing signs during puberty. Some are duds, but some…some are Clara.” Ollie smiled in amazement as he turned and gazed at Clara who was sleeping on the ratty bunk behind him. “She’s an Elite.” Ollie was relying not only on his own research, but on Jamil’s as well.
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