by Hulden Morse
“I shall not be deterred! This onslaught will not deter me! I will never back down no matter how difficult or treacherous the road becomes! You can throw any challenge my way, and I will forever stand my ground!”
A fighter she was; a warrior she had become. Hamilton stood against all enemies to her cause, refusing to run from the challenges that lay ahead of her. All others had given up on the hunt, absconding from the threat of pain that would never truly disappear. They would run to protect the precious time remaining within their hourglass, time that was quickly being depleted by the hands of death. They were doomed from the start, sentenced to a life of mortality, and they hid from destruction as if they were hiding from Death himself. But Hamilton would never again shy away from those threats. She would stand against them and fight for those that had been forgotten. Charles was not gone forever. Somehow, she knew it, and she would traverse a river of lava in order to find him and bring him home.
Hamilton had driven the police department to insanity with her demand of swift action until they asked that she permit them to conduct their search in peace. She touted to anyone with the ability to hear that this situation was more than a random act of violence, referencing the fact that many homeless people disappeared with Charles. The assistant had been burdened with the task of finding a temporary replacement for the President of Reaching Dreams, and so she quickly divided Charles’s responsibilities amongst the executive team. The board of directors assumed all legal rights of the CEO and maintained signing power on all documents that would have previously required Charles’s approval. While this was in no way a permanent remedy to the predicament Reaching Dreams had been thrown into, it allowed Hamilton the freedom to leave San Diego and conduct her own investigation.
She spent some time throwing questions at the Chicago Police Department before both parties were incensed by the other and the assistant began to speak with representatives from the local district. She met with Gutierrez over and over again, each time drilling him for every detail of the scene before and after Charles’s disappearance. The information was always the same each time she asked, but Hamilton was hoping that through subsequent recounts, an idea would spark between one of them that could somehow generate the break they so desperately needed.
Their longed-for break finally came from the most unlikely of places and from the most unlikely of characters.
Chapter 11
He awoke to the sound of keys jingling and then scratching in a stiff lock. Charles quickly sat up as the front door was pushed open and two guards—wearing the same black slacks and black T-shirt he had seen earlier—walked into the room. That was when the CEO heard screaming coming from below him. His roommate, lying on the bottom bunk, began crying hysterically as the men approached the bed.
“Please! Please let me die! Have mercy! I want to die!” the man yelled.
Charles could feel the frame of the bed shaking violently as the man kicked the sheets off his body. He then flung himself onto the hard ground and knelt before the guards, never ceasing his tirade.
“Just kill me! Let me die! Please!”
Another man then walked into the room, and the CEO felt chills running down his spine. It was the doctor from before, wearing the same white lab coat and emotionless face. Charles watched as the guards grabbed his roommate and pinned him to the lower bunk, commanding that the man relax.
“We aren’t here for you,” they said to him. “Relax. It’s okay. Just relax. The doctor isn’t here for you. Please, BJ. Calm down.”
The man wriggled against the strong hands of the guards, struggling to get free as he yelled incessantly. The doctor ignored the scene and stalked over to the bed, leaning on the frame and looking at Charles.
“Sir. Will you follow me?” he said warmly, motioning for his subject to descend the ladder.
Taking the moment as a good opportunity to express his concerns to the doctor, Charles obeyed the request and lowered himself to the ground. He could see his roommate face down on his bed, one of the large men leaning upon him while the other was holding down his legs. The doctor nodded at them and they both released their captive, backing toward the door after Charles was led out by the man in white. The heavy door was then locked with a deadbolt. The CEO noted the large number of keys that the guard held, each one with a different label that was nearly too small to read.
He was led down the bright hall and around a corner. They wound their way through a maze of doors, each one exactly like the last, before entering a different area of the building. That wing of the facility, foreign to Charles, was laid out similar to an office complex. The halls were wider and instead of reinforced doors that had numbers on them, these offices contained standard wood doors with labels like “Accounting” and “Lounge” and “Maintenance.” Charles craned his neck in every direction, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible.
The small group then turned a final corner and came to an office that read “Dr. Raymond” across the front of the door. The doctor opened it, and Charles was guided toward some chairs that sat between the entrance to the office and a large desk. The CEO took one of the chairs and the guards left, closing the door behind them. Dr. Raymond grabbed a file from the cabinet behind his desk, sank into his own chair across from Charles, and then leaned forward to look closely at his guest.
“My name is Doctor Raymond,” the man said. “I run this facility. What is your name?”
“Uh, Charles Pearson,” he said, unsure what to expect from the doctor.
“Okay. And what is it that you do, Mr. Pearson?”
“I’m the President and CEO of Reaching Dreams.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Pearson.” The man then flipped open the folder and began reading through some papers in it. Charles was becoming increasingly impatient as the silence dragged on, so much that he was concerned about exploding with rage at any moment.
“Doctor Raymond? I think there’s been some mistake.”
“Hmm?” The man looked up at his subject curiously.
“I-I don’t belong here. I’m not sick. I run a large company. I was—”
“Now, now,” the doctor interrupted. “You are exactly where you should be. Trust me on that.”
“Okay. Then where exactly is here?”
“Would you like a drink, Pearson?” he said as he got up from the desk.
“Huh?”
“A drink. Water? Soda? I am afraid I do not stock alcohol in the building. It is our policy.”
Charles shook his head in disbelief. “Look,” the CEO started, “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know why I’m here. But I have a family that I’m sure is worried about me and a company to run. I need answers!”
Dr. Raymond ignored him as he grabbed a bottle of water for himself from a fridge in the corner. He returned to his chair and sipped on the drink calmly.
“Please! Give me answers! I just want to know what’s going on!”
“Pearson. I think you should relax.”
“I’m being held in a locked room! I was strapped to a damn table! That guy in there is insane! Tell me what’s happening!” Charles quickly realized that he was standing and pointing an accusing finger at the doctor. Embarrassed, he sat down and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.
Seeing the change in demeanor, the doctor said, “You must trust me. This is my facility. We are here to help. Please, trust me.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I am a doctor. I want what is best for you. And right now, you need to remain calm.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I want answers!”
“Sir, I am politely asking you to calm down.”
Charles snapped. “Give me fuckin’ answers!”
“This will be much easier if you relax.”
“Goddammit! I’m not sick! I don’t need your help! I need to get out!”
>
The doctor gave him a sympathetic look in hopes that it would reassure the subject. “I suggest you do not do anything brash,” he said, “or you will find that your stay here will be rather uncomfortable.”
“My stay here? This isn’t a resort! You have me locked up!”
“Please, I am here to help.”
“The hell you are!”
In one swift motion, Charles shoved himself out of his seat, pushed off the doctor’s desk, and flew toward the office door. Dr. Raymond did not react. He remained seated comfortably while his employees did their job.
Charles flung the door open and tried to sprint down the hall, but was met by a mighty blow from one of the guards. The man struck him in the neck with his forearm, sending the CEO crumpling to the ground in agony. Charles screamed as his arms and legs were grabbed by the two men and he was pressed against the floor painfully. He could see the doctor exiting his office and strolling over calmly.
“Look, Pearson,” Dr. Raymond said, “just think of it like this. You are a teenager again, living in your parents’ house.”
“Let me go!”
“I pay for your room and board like a good parent would do, but while you are under my roof, you must follow my rules. Got it?”
Charles stared at the man in charge, struggling to understand his expression. The doctor seemed strictly professional, like he did not receive enjoyment out of reprimanding a grown man but it also did not bother him. He was unable to figure out whether that man could be trusted or not. It was infuriating.
The guards lifted Charles from the ground and placed him on his feet. One of the large men said, “Should we put him in a trial as punishment?”
“What?” Dr. Raymond exclaimed in surprise. “No! God, no. We don’t have to do that just yet. Mr. Pearson, you will learn that I am an understanding parent. You may have misbehaved, but I will give you another chance.”
That was the last thing he said to Charles before turning around and entering his office, closing the door behind him. The guards then dragged the subject back to his room, releasing him once inside and quickly exiting before the panicked roommate could attempt to escape. Charles breathed deeply as he fought to maintain control over his emotions. Things were not looking good, and he still had no answers to any of his burning questions.
The CEO then noticed that the trays of food had been placed on the table. He saw that the meal on one of the trays had been completely devoured, while the other one hadn’t been touched. His roommate was lying on his bed again, staring at the bottom of the top bunk, unreactive to anything going on around him.
Charles chose once again to not eat the food. He would wait to see what happened to the man before ingesting something that was potentially hazardous. His body could survive a while longer without nourishment. Though he desperately wanted to drink the water.
Remaining stubborn, he sat at the table and pushed the trays away, not wanting the smell to tempt him into an action that he may regret in the near future. The CEO sat there, quietly torturing himself with thoughts of soft bread and salty soup sliding into his empty stomach. That was the struggle. He knew that one day he would look back and understand how strong every stab of pain had made him.
Jesus, he was so hungry.
Chapter 12
Christof sat next to Paul and placed a hand on his knee. The thick, six-foot-three-inch man gazed into Paul’s face as if he were the long-sought-after prince for whom Christof had spent years searching. They locked eyes, wondering how long the moment would last, waiting for someone to make the first move. Paul then placed his hand upon Christof’s, their fingers rubbing together, the sweat collecting as body heat radiated from their beings. The seconds ticked away, slowly, before a roar of laughter erupted from the background. Paul recoiled his hand and threw his sandwich on the table, laughing hysterically as Christof stood from the table, beaming from ear to ear at the hilarity he had created.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said. “I was wondering how long you two could hold it in.”
“Shit. I was about to burst,” Christof said. “If you all hadn’t laughed first, I definitely would have.”
Meredith stepped forward and slapped Paul on the back. “I always knew you two were cute together,” she said smartly, pushing her curly, black hair out of her eyes as she took a bite of Paul’s sandwich.
Some of the Trial Technicians had already gone home, but Paul, Eddie, Meredith, and Elaine remained behind to socialize in the breakroom. Christof, one of the Disposal & Dissection members, happened by after finishing his work for the day. The professionals were a closely knit group. They were elite in their responsibilities, unique in their anonymity, and united in their fear of elimination. For that reason, they spent most of their time at the facility, either working or socializing, and never interacted with one another in the outside world. That was strictly against regulations. They were monitored around the clock by the extensive security detail, a large collection of formidable men and women who ensured any information concerning the facility and those inside it remained within the confines of the building. The only individuals that were considered out of the security detail’s jurisdiction were Dr. Raymond and the Outreach Team, a unit assigned to procuring funding and staffing, along with subject recruitment. In actuality, it was miraculous that the facility functioned as well as it did, given the purpose of its existence.
With a more serious tone, Elaine said, “What do you all think will happen with Charles Pearson?”
The mood in the room shifted instantly, replacing what was originally playful recreation with thoughtful concern. Meredith leaned on the table next to Paul and stared at her shoes. Christof took a seat on the couch and looked to Eddie for direction.
“Doc can’t release him,” Paul said. “I don’t even know how he ended up here.”
“Didn’t you and Eddie work with him?” Elaine asked.
“Yeah. But we had no idea it was him until after the trial. I’d never met the guy.”
They all stared at the ground, pensive, concerned about the ramifications of the surprise event.
“Well, whatever Doc does,” Eddie said, “it’ll be the best thing for everyone.”
“Everyone does not include us,” Meredith added critically.
The techs and Christof nodded in agreement. The situation could spell very bad news for their future. No matter what Dr. Raymond said and how trustworthy he seemed, it was widely understood that his interests came before a human life.
The bed creaked behind him, and Charles whipped around to find his roommate sitting on the side of the mattress, bearing the same awestruck look he had when they first saw one another. Knowing his efforts were in vain, Charles turned the uncomfortable, metal chair around to face the seemingly mentally ill man and attempted to communicate with him.
“I’m Charles. Is your name BJ?” he said softly.
To the CEO’s surprise, his roommate responded with a simple “yes” and then returned to staring absentmindedly at nothing.
Excited at the possibility of talking to someone and maybe getting some answers, Charles quickly asked, “Where are you from?”
BJ twitched slightly, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water. He then replied with a gurgling, quiet voice, “I want to die.”
“No, no. I’m here to help. We can help each other. Where is your home, BJ?”
The man paused. He then said, “Not here.”
“So, where is your home?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“Alright. Um, BJ, how did you get here?”
“Please kill me.”
“No!” Charles said strongly, pained by how distressed the man was. “Please, let me help you. We can get out of here. I can help you get well.”
He waited for a response but they remained in silence for some time. Working hard not to upset the
man or push his luck, Charles gave the conversation a couple-minute break before trying again.
“How did you get here, BJ?”
“I-I wake up here.”
“When?”
“In the beauty of lilies, Christ was born across the sea,” the man sang sadly. He stared at the wall behind Charles, fixated on the blank space.
“BJ. Stay with me. When—”
“With glory in His bosom that ‘figures you an’ me.” The man laid down on the bed.
“Dammit. I’m trying to—”
“He died an’ make men holy, let us die an’ make men free.”
“Please, BJ. Let’s talk.”
“God marches on.”
The man’s singing slowly drifted into mumbling, then into a quiet murmur, and finally disappeared altogether. Charles was left with a twitching roommate who had completely lost touch with reality. He wanted so badly to speak with someone, not only to gain information about the situation, but also because he desired socialization. He wanted to help people, to speak with people, and to share his ideas and beliefs in exchange for learning from someone else’s mind. He felt totally alone in a foreign world, unable to shake the ominous feeling that he would never again set foot outside of the walls of this facility.
The CEO figured that he had lost control of his most basic human rights. He no longer had the ability to make decisions for himself nor object to the bizarre treatment he was receiving from that doctor. The facility was a prison for his body, a cage for his mind, a demon that placed chains upon his free will and cackled as he strained against their weight, struggling to lift himself from the cold ground and drag his emaciated body away from a world he never chose to enter. He longed to be free, both physically and mentally, but Charles was trapped within a room and raw fear threatened to take over his mind. It was all becoming too much. His strength began to waver.