Confabulation (The Department)

by Ronald Thomas

  This one, Errins was his name, at least Jackson was pretty sure it was. This one was noisy and selfish. Not worth his time. The man in the back was different. Had some training. Knew what he was doing. And he’d screwed up.

  “Peter, why don’t you tell your henchman what the problem is?”

  Errins bumped into Jackson. “Hey, you don’t talk to me like that. I…” Ennis fell to the ground. Grabbed the sides of his head.

  Jackson looked at him. Shook his head. So much potential wasted. It was a simple thing. Just a flood of random thoughts and images. A simple attack. Taught in the early stages of training. The defense taught soon after. And here was this arrogant bastard, so loud, and now in so much confusion and pain.

  “Enough.”

  Jackson glanced at Peter. Sneered. Released Errins. “Keep your apprentice under control, Peter. We don’t have the time or the luxury of secrecy in this work.

  Errins moaned and rolled on the ground.

  Jackson walked away. “He’ll be fine soon enough. Maybe he’ll learn something.” He sat in a chair against the wall nearest the door. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Did you follow my instructions to the letter?”

  He had been careful. The candidates had some ability. Had gone through his office for evaluation. He’d used his influence to have them labeled on releasable. They should have been held as fuel. They had enough ability to serve a purpose, but not to make trouble. Just enough to make his plan work.

  Peter sat next to Jackson. “In instructed them all to suggest emotions only. Let their minds form the memory that suited the emotion.”

  Jackson sighed. That was the plan. Simple emotional suggestion would go unnoticed if, no when, compliance came to check. They checked all the released that were borderline. Make sure they didn’t manifest any ability and need to come in. Also to make sure none of the evaluators were slipping. Or corrupt.

  Like he was.

  “Compliance made contact, Peter.”

  Peter stood. Walked over to Errins. Looked at Jackson. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Two of the targets have visited safe cites. Places they had not previously visited. Reports from the field doing the work indicate periods of all dark when trying to suggest emotions. They were contacted.”

  “Shit.” Peter looked down at Errins. “What did you do?”

  “What? Nothing. Just like you said. Mostly.”

  “Mostly.”

  “Look, sometimes they didn’t take the bait, so we’d give them a little image, or a little extra info to point them in the right direction.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Peter grabbed a pistol from the card table in the middle of the room. “You stupid little shit. What did I tell you?”

  Errins scooted back.

  Jackson watched and smiled.

  Errins hit the wall. “Dude, what the hell?”

  Peter kept the pistol aimed at Errins.

  Jackson walked over to the scared man. Crouched next to him. “You see, moron, when compliance comes by, they do a little scan. Emotions, they don’t really register. Sure, they can take a long time to get the job done, but it’s safe. It was a good plan. Mine.” He stood. “But, images. Facts. Tangible things that are foreign to the mind, they shine like a beacon. Tell compliance that someone’s been in there.”

  Errins swallowed.

  Jackson sat again. “You see, now they’ll try to bring them to a secure location. Do some deeper digging. Find the signature of the foreign mind. Then they’ll scour every mind in the world to find that print. And then, Mr. Errins, you’ll wish I was hurting you again.”

  Jackson walked to the door. “Peter, Adamson is still in play. You take that operation over. All we need is one.”

  “One for what?”

  Jackson glared at Errins. “Oh, so you’d like to know the plan, eh? Very well. You see, if people with talent start killing people, it’ll cast doubt on the organization. We’ll keep doing this, they’ll keep missing the right people. All the hidden funding will dry up, and a new company will arise from the fetid mire of this one. One that achieves the goals, without the sickness that has taken over.”

  “What sickness?”

  “Infallibility. They use the fuel and feel they can see everything. They can’t. They can’t see what I’m doing. Not if it’s done right. When it doesn’t make them perfect, people won’t stomach the abuse of those people.”

  Errins stood. Dusted himself off. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

  “In case you were caught, I didn’t want you to know. That’s why you never met me, either. I have to stay removed from this project in order to do my job.”

  Errins furrowed his brow.

  “You wonder why I told you now, right?”

  He nodded.

  “They’ll find you now. They’ll hunt the world for your imprint. Then they’ll bring you in and extract every last drop of knowledge in that foolish head.” Jackson looked at Peter. “We can’t have that.”

  The gun fired.

  Errins fell.

  Jackson looked away.

  “Peter, stay with Adamson. Keep him on track. I’ll take care of the other two. Starting with Klein. I think Hansford is out of reach for now, but I’ll get to her before they find what they need.”

  “Of course, I’ll handle it.”

  “And, Peter, any others that may have varied from the plan are a problem.”

  “They won’t be for long, Jackson.”

  “Good.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Simon stared out the window, waiting for the mail to arrive. He’d been sitting in the same chair since eleven o’clock. His legs were tired from tapping and his lips ached from being licked, dried, and chewed upon as the wait dragged through the afternoon. He glanced down at the monitor. Four hours he’d been waiting. His heart raced as the day drew late. Had to be here soon.

  He stood to peer down the street.

  The doorbell rang.

  He jumped like a cat when he heard the noise. Ran to the door. When he reached the door, he ignored the peephole and flung the door open. Before him was as beautiful a mail carrier as he had seen, though few others would have ascribed that description to the portly gentleman.

  "Ah, Mr. Klein?" Simon nodded. "I have a package for you. If you’ll just sign here."

  Simon scribbled across the line, excitement warping his signature into a narrow scrawl. "There ya go." He took the package and turned back into the house. "Thank you," he said without turning around. He shut the door and opened the box.

  Inside, he found an address. And a note.

  “Don’t worry about your vision.”

  Nothing else.

  He checked the sending address. It was his.

  He took the note and ran to his car. Opened the garage and turned the ignition.

  He sat.

  Didn’t know who sent the message. He needed answers, and they might be at the address in his hand, but there might be something else. Might be someone looking to get rid of him now that he was curious.

  He stepped out of his car. Walked down to the street and checked the mail. He’d seen the mailman drop it off in his rearview mirror. Just junk. He glanced to his doorway but saw no other note or package. He went back to his car and turned off the ignition.

  Waited for two more hours. Hoped to get some further contact. Some more information. A call. A visit. Something. Finally, he felt that he had waited long enough, and he ventured back to the garage to discover who held the key to his freedom.

  The GPS led him to an office building he recognized by the address. He had been to the site for a job interview not long before. He knew that there was little development near the building, other than new construction. Despite his misgivings about such a location, he knew the building had several tenants, and he had to follow the lead.

  Simon parked the car and stepped out onto the normally busy street. Construction to repair the damage to a bus stop by a drunk driver had shut the street to through tr
affic. Simon still watched for cars as he was crossing, half because he had been taught to, and half because he was worried that he would be ambushed. He knew nothing about the people who were helping or harming him, and he had no idea who he should trust.

  He walked in the building mentioned on the tape and stepped into the lobby. Marble floors and an orgasm of brushed metal. Trim, sculptures, fixtures. It was everywhere. Took the elevator to the eleventh floor. The ride seemed to take days.

  Simon reached over to get off at a different floor several times. Each time he convinced himself that he had to know for sure. Figured f it was a trap these people could probably incapacitate him no matter where he stepped off.

  When the doors opened, Simon stepped out and quickly determined that suite 1106 would be to his right. He walked down the hall and stopped at the solid wood door that bore the numbers he sought. "Alright, Simon. This is it. No turning back now." He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  When the door shut, a tall, athletic looking gentleman stepped out from behind the small archway to Simon’s left. He had dark, receding hair that did nothing to make him look old or anything but commanding. His eyes were strong, though Simon could see a trace of weariness in the man’s stature.

  “Hi. I’m Simon Klein."

  "Yes, I know. I’m glad you came." He walked over to Simon and grasped the man’s hand. It possessed all the strength Simon had anticipated. He pointed to an open door to their left. "My name’s Jackson Gray. Have a seat."

  Simon stepped into a room with two chairs, and a television. The images there captured his attention. He settled into one of the chairs. Barely noticed the door shutting or lights going dark. The horror of the pictures tugged at his stomach, but his eyes refused the urges to flee. The animals and people in the film screamed and fought against their enemies. Enemies who remained unseen by the camera.

  Simon watched a man screamed himself hoarse, begging for something or someone to stop. The terror was painted on his face, and Simon both feared and needed to see what was frightening the prisoner. He looked back, briefly, to the tall man who brought him here, but he just pointed to the screen.

  Simon watched the camera pan to the right, moving closer to revealing the source of such great fear. Slowly the image panned through the room, until the enemy was revealed. What Simon saw chilled his soul more than anything he could have imagined. Simon had prepared himself to see any range of monster, even the image of a person being skinned alive couldn’t have had a greater impact. Simon stared at the screen and saw…nothing. Nothing at all. Only the opposite wall of the cell showed in the screen. He could hear the man continue to scream, screaming for nothing to stop torturing him.

  More scenes followed. Various people sat in fear, begging for the nothing to stop—pleading for silence. Then the stories changed. The people no longer asked for rest. Rather, they stumbled through the cells, intermittently stopping altogether. He recognized the glazed over look and the altered gate. He could see himself in their eyes. A title page appeared setting the change to "field tests" before Jackson stopped the film.

  "That’s enough for now. You need some time to get used to what you’re seeing. We’ll get back to it tomorrow. For now, I think you need to have some dinner and get some rest."

  "You mean I’m staying here for the night?"

  "It’s safer here. I’ll explain why later, but for now, enjoy the room and rest assured that the blindness won’t disturb you."

  "Thank you."

  Jackson picked up a pair of keys and walked toward the door.

  "Are you going somewhere?"

  "It would look suspicious if I didn’t get anything done. I’ll be back in the morning."

  Simon watched the man leave and stood in the center of the large, windowless, open area. The openness might have made him uncomfortable in any other circumstance, but the information he was receiving combined with the promise of security made him feel like he was wrapped in a child’s security blanket.

  He sat in front of the hamburger and fries that were left for him and relished each bite. Once he was full from the meal, and the sundae that followed, he fell into his bed and enjoyed the quiet rest.

  CHAPTER 20

  Henry sat is his car outside the courthouse. Kelly had several court cases. Would be there all day. He sat in his car. Twitching. Took a sip of the hot coffee he purchased to ward off the sleep that he had forgone for a week. His tension had waned in the past couple of days, but he knew he had to keep on top of things.

  Kelly hadn’t mentioned seeing him in the office. Their time together had been tense, but not unusual. Hell, everything about Henry had been tense lately. But, Kelly had been coming home on time. Acting close to normal. Didn’t try to avoid him.

  Still, Henry hadn’t slept much. Each passing day drew him one step closer to the danger that he couldn’t ignore. He saw Kelly’s actions as ammunition for the killer that was stalking her. Each hour at work was a chance for the killer to strike, and her time away from him and the office seemed to invite an attack.

  Henry saw the day in court as providing volumes of ammunition.

  He watched the parade of seedy characters walking in and out of the courthouse. Wondered if any of them would be the one. At ten minutes to noon, he saw Kelly emerge from the large stone building and say good-bye to some lawyers. He recognized most of them. Wondered which of them was plotting against her. He tried to remember the conversations he’d over heard. Remember the faces.

  Nothing.

  He couldn’t identify a reason, or a point in time when it happened, but Henry was sure that Kelly wouldn’t live through the day if he didn’t do something. He knew in the depths of his soul that someone was going to try to kill her before she could come home that night.

  As she walked toward her car, Henry saw a man in a camouflage trench coat walking toward her. He sat up in his car, as the two grew nearer. He was sure it was a lawyer that planned it, but he didn’t know the plan. He stepped out of his car to get closer.

  He could hear the cloaked man muttering to himself about murder. He jumped from his car. Ran as fast as he could toward him. He could hear Kelly screaming for him to stop as he dove at the would-be assassin, but he didn't hesitate.

  He landed on the man and pinned his shoulders to the ground. Stared into the shifting eyes and took in the sight of the unshaven face and the scent of sweat and urine.

  "Henry, what in the hell are you doing?"

  He looked back and saw Kelly standing over him, reaching down. He stood when she grabbed his shoulder.

  "What are you doing here? You should be at work."

  Henry stared at her, speechless.

  "Henry, say something. What are you doing?"

  "I was trying to protect you. Like I have all week."

  "All week? Some people said they thought they saw you, but I said that was impossible. Why have you been following me?"

  Henry turned and started to walk back to his car. "You wouldn’t understand, Kelly. I can't let it happen." He was sure it was all true. Just as sure Kelly wouldn’t believe a damned thing.

  Kelly ran ahead of him. Stared into his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

  Henry shook his head and looked away from her. "It doesn't matter. As long as you’re safe." He looked around for more potential killers; still certain it would happen soon.

  "Henry, I want you to see a doctor."

  "I’ve seen a doctor, doctors in fact. They can't tell me anything. They don't see what I see." He saw no one approaching, and wondered if his certainty was just paranoia. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong time. He needed to keep watching. He needed to be ready. He started to walk away again.

  "Henry! I want you to see a therapist."

  Henry turned back and stared down into her eyes. "Don't you listen? I have seen doctors; they tell me that it's stress. Well it's not stress, someone's going to kill you and I know it." He needed to protect her. He needed to be able to move freely so he could watch out
for her. He could tell she couldn’t sense the danger, and that he had to watch.

  She reached up and touched his face. "Henry, please get some help."

  He didn’t want her pity. He wanted only to protect her. If she wouldn’t accept that, he’d watch her from the shadows. "You don't understand either." He pushed her hands away and ran for his car. "No one understands!"

  CHAPTER 21

  Carolyn sat in the restaurant. She looked over the menu, but wasn’t reading anything. She was just waiting. At her home, she found a number. No other information. She held onto it for a few days, but decided to call. She needed answers.

  The restaurant answered and told her she had a dinner reservation. She showed up and was shown to a secluded table in a private room.

  The other three tables in the room were empty, and not set.

  The waiter delivered water and bread, and told her that her companion would be arriving later than expected. She waited for a half-hour, chewing on breadsticks, drinking too much water, and flipping the pages of the menu.

  She tapped her feet. Drummed her fingers. Glanced often at the door.

  No one. Not even the waiter came back.

  Another half-hour and she considered leaving.

  Finally, a new person appeared.

  A woman, tall but not lanky, walked into the room and closed the door behind her. "Hello, Ms. Hansford. My name is Susan Harrison." She pulled the chair from the table and sat across from Carolyn.

  Carolyn scanned the woman’s face and was surprised to find her features sharp and hard. The angled cheekbones and prominent chin made her look powerful and dangerous. However, her soft, speckled, blue eyes gave warmth that Carolyn accepted but didn’t understand. "I was starting to think you weren’t coming."

  "Sorry, I had to make sure that we were alone."

  Carolyn wasn’t convinced that her desire to meet the woman was true, but she was at ease. And curious. "So, what’s going on with me?"