Soul Suites

by Hulden Morse

  “They brought me back,” the man said to his older friend. “I no wanted to be brought back.”

  “I know. I know. But we have to stay strong. God meant for you to survive. He is trying to save you.” Jake attempted to be comforting, but he knew the chances of bringing Mr. Munich out of that state were nearly impossible.

  “I wanna die. I’m not happy. Will you kill me, Jake?”

  “No. I can’t do that. I care about you. We’re getting out of here, buddy.”

  “But I don’t wanna. I just wanna die forever. Go away forever. Please kill me.”

  The older man did not know what to do. His friend leaned over and cried into Jake’s shoulder. It was sickening to see someone so innocent subjected to an agonizing life of terror. He deserved to be with people who loved him and cared for his special needs, yet Mr. Munich was brought there by the heartless fiends that gave no consideration to the feelings of another human being.

  “We’re gonna get out of here. I just know it,” Jake said to him.

  “Really?” the man sniffled.

  “Yeah. I’m working on a plan now. We’ll get out of here real soon. But, you have to stay strong.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever you want to go. Anywhere in the world.”

  The black man looked at his poorly tied shoes, allowing a tear to drip from his nose onto the cold ground. “There’s only one place I want to go,” he said solemnly.

  “I know, buddy. And we’re going there. I’ll get us out of here, and then we’ll be free to go there.”

  “You promise?”

  Jake hated lying to his friend. He knew that they would both die in that building. He truly hoped that Mr. Munich would go first so that he could escape this fabricated Hell and exist in eternal peace. Plus, if Jake were to die before him, there would be nothing maintaining the poor man’s sanity. His friend was barely hanging on to a final thread of reality as it was. His improperly developed mind was unable to cope with the atrocities occurring around him, and without Jake there to keep him grounded, only Satan had worked out what that would do to such a fragile soul. Every time the older man was strapped into the table or dumped in the water, he was worried about dying. Not for his own cause, but because he didn’t want to leave Mr. Munich. Whenever his roommate was taken to a trial, typically at the same time as he himself was taken, Jake prayed that the sweet, black man would never return. He wanted what was best for his friend, and what was best was the eternity of death.

  “I promise, buddy. No need to fret. We’ll get out of here soon.”

  In another part of the building, the Trial Technicians were relaxing after submitting their interview data to the doctor. Coworkers were chatting loudly as they passed around a box of assorted chocolates that someone had brought to share. The door to the breakroom swung open, and the previous shift’s security team entered.

  “What’s up, everyone?” one of the guards yelled happily.

  “Hey! Look who’s off the clock,” Elaine replied.

  “We’ve got some chocolates here. Have some,” Christof said, handing over the colorful box to the group of newcomers.

  “Please eat them,” Meredith added. “I’ve already had four or five.”

  “Hey. Where’s everyone from administration?” a guard asked. “They’re usually here on Wednesdays.”

  “Yeah. They’ve got some meeting with Doc. I thought it would be done by now, but we haven’t seen anyone. I think they’re going over the remodel for the rooms.”

  “Hell yes! About time they’re doing that.”

  Eddie chimed in, “I think Doc is mainly concerned with the thin walls.”

  “Well, he doesn’t seem too concerned with patients gaining information,” a guard named Ryan stated. Everyone looked at him inquisitively, and the man smiled proudly.

  “What does that mean?” Elaine asked.

  “Doctor Raymond had a private meeting with the Pearson guy today. During his lunch break.”

  The inhabitants of the breakroom glanced at each other, confused and skeptical.

  “How do you know this?” Eddie said.

  “I was there. I’m the one that brought Pearson into Doc’s office.”

  “Shit. He was in his office? Why?”

  “No idea. All I know is that Pearson heard Doc complaining about not having a relationship or something with his patients. Pearson seemed to want to trade his life story for info about what we’re doing. At least that’s what I could gather through the door.”

  “Whoa,” Ramona said. “Is that normal?”

  “Not at all,” a guard replied while everyone else shook their heads.

  “Should we be worried? I’ve noticed that he’s getting pretty moody. I know he misses the clinic.” Meredith had noted on several occasions that Dr. Raymond seemed to be longing for something more than what he was receiving from the subjects. The man would often attempt to engage them in conversation but would usually be shut down by the person he was torturing to death. The doctor was clearly determined to complete his work thoroughly and effectively, though he seemed to be growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of interaction he was used to enjoying.

  “Well, think of it this way,” Paul chimed in after merely listening from the couch for a while. “What happens if Doc tells Pearson everything about the facility and us and what we’re doing?”

  The group of employees stared at him quietly before someone said, “Nothing.”

  “Yeah. Nothing happens. No one leaves this place. Especially not someone as competent as Charles Pearson. I wouldn’t worry about it. Doc can tell him whatever the hell he wants. The only thing it could mess up is the data. And that can be remedied by doing a hospital trial or police trial.”

  The group nodded their heads in understanding. Eddie grabbed a piece of chocolate and threw it at Paul, yelling, “For being the only logical one here,” as the candy hit him in the side of the head.

  The room was reduced to bouts of laughter before normal conversation resumed once more. They were confident that nothing could undo the gruesome work they conducted at the facility. The designers had implemented enough fail-safes to ensure that employee confidentiality and subject submission was maintained even in the event of faulty operations. Only once had they had any such event occur that required one of those fail-safes to take effect. And it worked as planned by protecting the valuable data, ensuring the anonymity of the men and women that dedicated their lives to the experiment, and securing the future for one of the most important technological discoveries of the modern world.

  Chapter 30

  It did not feel like his room anymore. Previously, the space had felt secure, something that was foreign yet still belonged to him. Charles knew exactly what it was going to look like and the affirmation of that expectation was comforting. He couldn’t alter the room in anyway, nor could he come and go as he pleased, though he and Damian had a place to call their own in which they could always eat and sleep. However, that feeling of belonging dissipated every time the door was opened by an employee. That space started to feel less like a room in which he lived and more like a closet in which he was kept. Like he was an object owned by the facility, put on a shelf until they were ready to use him again. Whenever it was time, someone could simply open the closet door, retrieve that particular item, and then return it when they were done. At any moment, Charles expected to hear a key being jammed into the lock, someone forcing himself into his room, followed not by an “excuse me” or even a “hello,” but a command that would ultimately lead to his demise.

  And in that moment, like all those previous moments when the door had been opened and the man’s heart had sunk into the corpse-cold floor, Charles’s stomach lurched when he heard the jingling of keys, the flip of a latch, and the sucking rush of air from a large swinging piece of metal. Dr. Raymond stood there with a g
uard. He wore his white lab coat as if it were a part of his skin and stepped into the room carrying two trays of food. He placed one of them on the table and then looked at the CEO, who was laying on the top bunk.

  “Pearson. You’re having lunch with me,” the doctor said.

  Damian looked surprised at the turn of events. Charles figured that his roommate would become hopeful if one of them became friendly with the man who controlled their destiny, then perhaps they would both emerge from the facility with a still beating heart.

  Curious, Charles left his bed and took the tray from the doctor. He then followed the two men out of the room and toward the offices. The subject was starting to learn his way around the facility. Even though he was only able to find his way to the trial rooms, to his own room, and to the wing that held the administrative offices, he felt slightly reassured by the fact that he was becoming familiar with the building’s layout.

  After being frisked again by the guard, Charles brought his lunch tray into Dr. Raymond’s office and took a seat at the desk. The doctor closed the door and retrieved his own lunch, pulling out a large deli sandwich and a bag of chips. It was at that moment that the CEO noticed a framed picture sitting on the desk. The image was facing the doctor, but Charles leaned forward in his chair, as if he were adjusting his pants, and took a quick glance at the photo. All he caught was what looked like a family portrait with a simple white background, as if it were taken at the studio in a low-end department store.

  Dr. Raymond was unwrapping his sandwich when he said, “If you want to see the picture, just ask.”

  “Can I see the picture?” Charles said coolly, showing no signs of his alarm.

  The doctor turned the frame around, and Charles was faced by five smiling people: two adults and three children. The three boys were young, possibly all under ten, and looked similar enough to be brothers. The man and woman standing behind them had their arms tightly wrapped around each other. The man looked like a young version of the doctor. The males all wore different colored sweater vests and ties, while the mother figure had on a long, flowery dress. The picture seemed faded, possibly from the light shining through the office window.

  “My family,” Dr. Raymond said as he took a bite of his sandwich.

  Charles couldn’t help but feel disturbed. There, in that chair, was a man with a wife and children, probably a substantial house that a handsome salary paid for and a backyard in which he could relax. The image of his family revealed a realm of possibilities, each one sickening in its own way. The doctor was a father that probably attended parent/teacher conferences and went to his sons’ baseball games or school plays. Maybe they had a cat or a dog that the man played with, and they celebrated Mother’s Day and Father’s Day with brunch or breakfast in bed. Birthdays were intimate occasions, with homemade cake and brightly wrapped presents. In fact, the CEO was picturing his own life but with different characters playing the role of his family. He was revolted by the idea that this monster, who tortured humans from 9:00 to 5:00, could live a perfectly normal life at home. It made the doctor human.

  “So you going to resume your story?” Dr. Raymond asked his lunch guest.

  “I told you a lot yesterday. I want information about this place.”

  “Now, now. You are in no position to be making demands.”

  “We had a deal! Quid pro quo. I held up my end—”

  “And I will hold up mine. Don’t worry. But right now, I am in control. The burden is on you to please me. Got it? So, tell me a little bit more about your parents and this orphanage, then I will tell you about what we do here.”

  Charles hesitated. He felt trapped, desperate, like a man with little more to lose and so much to gain. He bit his lip and gave in to authority.

  “Alright. Um, I don’t remember much about them. My father left when I was five. I remember him coming home at night. Sometimes he would play with me, sometimes he would just go upstairs. Looking back, I don’t even know if he was a drunk or just a hard worker, but he wasn’t around much. My mom was always home. She would make me food, when she remembered, and would give me things to do. She’d tell me to go in my room and count the number of blue things in there. Or count the number of threads in the carpet. Something ridiculous like that. I’d either finish or get bored and come out of my room to find my mom hanging out with her friends. She would yell at me to go away, and I would go back to my room. Sometimes I would pretend to be a spy and spy on them, and I would analyze what they were doing and report it back to headquarters, or something like that.”

  He stopped his story and took a deep breath. The memory of those moments still burned through him, bringing up tears when he assumed he had cried himself out many years ago.

  “You know what they were doing, don’t you?” Dr. Raymond asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Drugs. Lots of them. That’s what killed her. I was six. Found her dead in the bathroom. Not sure if her friends had just left her or if she was shooting up alone that day, but it was just me and my dead mother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the doctor said sincerely.

  “I told a neighbor, and they called the police. That’s when I was brought to the orphanage.”

  “And what was it like there?”

  “Like I said yesterday, it was awful. No one had time to take care of us. Or I guess no one cared to take care of us. We were all alone and scared. Even the older kids that acted tough and took control of things, we all knew they were scared too. Kids would wake up screaming in the middle of the night from nightmares. Some would sit in the bathrooms and cry. We were abused. Every child there had some sob story that told of their journey to that place and how their parents died or how they were mistreated or how they were given up and never loved. But no matter what, everyone would have preferred to return to their life before the orphanage.”

  “You know, not all orphanages are like that.”

  “I’m aware. But unfortunately my only exposure is to that one.”

  “Have you ever returned to it? As an adult?”

  “Yes. It was closed long ago. Has been turned into apartments. Terrible ones at that. But I’m grateful that it’s gone and no one else can be put through that pain.”

  Charles realized that he hadn’t eaten any of his food. He started to peel an orange that was on the plate. He then looked at the doctor, expectantly.

  “Your turn,” the CEO said firmly.

  “Alright, Pearson. That is fair. You have earned yourself some information. You will see that I am a man of my word.”

  The subject tried to remain calm, but was internally elated by the prospect of finally discovering why and how he had come to be there. Charles folded his arms in front of him, trying not to look too eager, though he was sweating profusely in the air-conditioned room.

  “This is a research facility. We are conducting an experiment, and you are one of the lucky test subjects.”

  “What the fuck?” Charles said, startled by what he heard.

  “We are trying to prove that there is an afterlife.” Dr. Raymond smiled at his guest’s look of astonishment. “But in order to do so, we must kill people. And then bring them back to life. Again, and again, and again.”

  “That-that’s not possible.”

  “We have been doing this for over four years, Pearson. Not only is it possible, but it’s happening.”

  “So I… I really did… um…”

  “Yes. You were killed twice. And then brought back to life. You’re welcome.”

  “What?”

  “We have gifted you with what very few people will ever see and live to talk about. You are just like the person that gets hit in the chest and is later revived by paramedics. Or the girl that drowns in a lake and is then resuscitated. Or the man on the operating table whose heart stops three times and is saved every time. Like those rare individuals, you get a taste of what i
t is like to be dead. You get to see the afterlife.”

  Charles stood up from his chair, unsure of what to do or where to go, but knowing that he had to get as far away from that man as possible.

  “Pearson. You are going so soon?”

  “I, um… I need to, uh…”

  “Do you want the rest of your food?”

  “Huh? No. I don’t.”

  The CEO opened the door forcefully and was instantly greeted by a guard. He requested to go back to his room, and the guard looked to the doctor for direction.

  “Fine. I guess I’ll finish my lunch by myself,” Dr. Raymond said.

  As the two men were leaving, the doctor stopped them with a word. He walked up to Charles, and looked him in the eyes.

  “How far would you go to save someone you love?” the man asked his subject.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, you do not have parents, so think of your wife and children. What would you do to see them again?”

  Charles froze in place. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the doctor.

  “What did you do to my family?” he said angrily.

  “Nothing at all. We are just talking here.”

  The CEO was petrified. He was trapped in that damned experiment, unable to protect his family if anything were to threaten them. Without hesitation, he would be tortured if it meant saving the ones he loved.

  “Come now, Pearson. Your family is fine. Just answer the question. How far would you go to save them? To see them again?”

  “I would do anything to protect them.”

  Dr. Raymond smiled and said, “That is what I thought.”

  Chapter 31

  Not long after the news of a possible conspiracy within Reaching Dreams reached the general public, large corporations that had donated money to the nonprofit began to take an interest in their investments. The companies had given thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of dollars to that organization and were now at risk of being labeled as fools, or worse.