by Robert Brumm
Hank took a step back and Seamus pulled the trigger. A loud snapping noise filled the air and the man appeared to be having a very enthusiastic stretch. Seamus counted to three out loud and released the trigger. He waited a beat and completed another three second shot.
He handed the gun to Hank and pulled a stethoscope from his pocket. Hank watched as he held it to the man’s chest and listened. “Is he dead?”
Seamus nodded. “And he’ll stay that way if we don’t move fast.”
Hank placed the electro-shock device back in the charging station and watched as Seamus quickly attached the cardio module and breathing device. He watched in amazement as they were brought online and the man’s chest rose and fell with every breath. Seamus felt a pulse and gave Hank a thumbs up. “That’s it, man. Another Frankenstein ready to plug into the boiler. Now we just need to seal it up, fill her up, and we’re good to go. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Hank repeated. “I think it’s fucking crazy.”
Seamus laughed and slapped him hard on the arm. “You alright, Hank. Come on, let’s finish this one up and take a break. I could use a smoke.”
Chapter 9
Sanderson let himself into the apartment as quietly as possible. He was expecting Sara to be in bed, so he was surprised to see her in the living room watching TV. “Hey,” he leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her on the cheek. “What are you still doing up?”
She shrugged. “I figured I’d just be lying in bed for hours anyway.”
“So how did it go?” He sat down on the sofa.
“About what I expected, I guess. It was hard.”
He picked up on the slight edge in her voice and what she didn’t say spoke volumes. It was hard, but Hank’s retirement would’ve been easier if he’d been there with her.
Sara picked up the remote and started flipping through channels. “Did you eat? I had dinner with Mom but I could probably whip up something for you.”
“No thanks, I’m good.” John got up and went to the fridge. He grabbed a can of beer and held the cool aluminum container against his forehead for a moment before breaking the seal and taking a sip. The pungent aftertaste of the hops bit his tongue after the first swallow and he sighed. The six pack of India pale ale was a gift to himself that he picked up from the specialty market downtown last week. Compared to the bland lager most people bought, the microbrew packed a strong punch with a price tag to match. They could afford it, but Sara usually bought the watery mass market beer. To her, beer was beer and she just didn’t get it.
Sara stood in the doorway. “I asked mom to move in with us. They’re kicking her out of her place due to some occupancy rule, so I said she could live with us.”
The statement hung in the air, waiting for him to either accept or challenge. He took another sip and nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s not like you’re ever home anyway. You probably won’t even notice she’s here.”
“I said it’s fine. What do you want from me?”
Sara let out a joyless laugh and turned back to the living room. John sighed and emptied half the can in one pull. The beer was supposed to be savored slowly as a treat but suddenly he felt guilty for drinking it. What did Sara want from him? She could probably talk about that subject for days.
He went back into the living room and sat down. Sara was back to flipping channels. “I know what this is about,” John said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you today, but you know I had to work. I told you about it days ago.”
“Sometimes I wonder what’s more important to you. Your family or that damn job.”
He grabbed the remote from her hand and pointed it at the TV. “Without that damn job we don’t have any of this. You think I do it for fun? I’m busting my ass out there every day so you don’t have to live in a dump like that place your mom is getting kicked out of.”
Sara crossed her arms and stared blankly ahead.
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “I’ll get a job down at the munitions plant so you can stand in line for food vouchers and wait all day at the free clinic if you get sick. Hell, tell Peg to stop packing! We can move into the slums with her and just get it over with right away.”
Sara glared at him. “That dump was my home for most of my life. We may have been poor, but at least we had each other.” She got up and stormed out of the room. The bedroom door slammed shut.
“Awesome,” John muttered. He finished the beer with one swallow and set the empty can on the oak coffee table in front of him. Just that piece alone was probably worth more than all the furniture combined in Peg’s apartment.
He looked around the room. Most women would’ve been content with the life he provided. Then again, Sara wasn’t like most women. It’s what he found so attractive in the first place. She probably really would be happy if he worked some shitty nine to five that barely put food on the table if it meant he was home more.
Once again, his mind returned to his single years as it did with more frequency lately. It all seemed so simple back then. He worked hard and played even harder. When he wasn’t on assignment, he was with Carter and some of the other guys, staying out all night at the city’s elite clubs and restaurants. The world at their fingertips. They had money, power, and a never ending flow of eager young women. And after the party was over, a quiet and comfortable apartment all to himself. Nobody to answer to or worry about besides John Sanderson.
He thought he had it all until he met Sara and that’s when he realized he wasn’t even close. She was so different from the shallow floozies who threw themselves at him that it shook him to the core. Her natural beauty, kindness, and decency, consumed him. He knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he couldn’t spend it with her.
Marriage or serious relationships in his line of work weren’t prohibited, but there was an unwritten rule. An understanding that it was strongly discouraged. Few operators successfully pulled it off, but John thought he was different. He thought he could walk the line and perform the ultimate juggling act. A top-ranked professional and the model family man. After four years, he finally allowed the doubt to creep in. And they were still trying to have a baby, for Chrissake.
Sara had changed. She’d become increasingly angry and bitter and he was to blame. He taken the sweet girl he’d met at the market five years ago and ruined her by trying to hold her in a gilded cage, surrounded by nothing but lies, deceit, and expensive furniture. He hated himself for it.
John ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He knew he had to follow her into the bedroom and talk to her. It’s how the game was played. She loses her temper, storms off, and he follows a moment later. She lashes out in anger and says things she doesn’t mean. He carefully analyzes the venom from her mouth, pinpoints what’s really upsetting her, and he says what she wants to hear. Eventually she feels guilty, apologizes, and once and a while it ends up in some pretty good makeup sex.
The temptation to just fall over on the sofa and go to sleep was overwhelming. He probably would’ve, if not for another slam coming from behind the bedroom door. Sounded like one of the dresser drawers. He sighed and got to his feet.
John paused at the bedroom door and put his hand on the knob. Sara, I killed a police officer this afternoon. He was just a kid trying to do his job and I murdered him because I fucked up and he happened to be close by. So you’ll understand if I really don’t give a shit that your mom is getting kicked out of her apartment right now.
He opened the door. “Sara, I’m sorry…”
It’s how the game was played.
Chapter 10
Life for Hank moved slowly. His days were simplified and mundane, compared to the world he left behind. He rose each morning, worked his shift, ate bland meals, read bland books, and watched bland television. He tried his best to keep his mind engaged and stay busy, but thoughts of his family and the outside world crept in when he let his guard down.
As days turned into weeks, he s
ettled into the routine of his new life and his world seemed to shrink with every passing day. When Hank was a little kid, it was still common for life sentences for those who committed serious crimes. He’d hear a story of say, an eighteen year old kid, who committed murder and was sentenced to the rest of his life behind bars. Hank wondered how that kid could possibly process the fact he would be stuck behind the same walls for the rest of his days.
Now he could relate. Whenever Hank focused on the big picture, the thought of never leaving the commons, never going outside again, he sunk into such a deep depression it was almost too much to bear. So he focused on the present. Took it day by day until he didn’t need to put an effort into doing so. He made friends, got used to his duties, and learned to enjoy the small luxuries and comforts life in the plant had to offer.
Despite making peace with his new life for the most part, he still missed Peg and Sara terribly. He tried to come to terms with the fact he’d never see them again but it wasn’t quite the same as grieving for a loved one who passed away. If Peg or Sara died then he’d never see them again. Case closed. One hundred percent guaranteed. But just the fact that he knew they were out there, living their lives, completely oblivious to the fact he was alive and well, made it that much worse. There was virtually no chance they’d ever be together, but there was still that nagging sliver of hope, torturing him. If he could only get a message to them somehow. In his darkest hours, lying awake in bed, he almost looked forward to the day when he knew Peg would retire. At least he would get some closure. But that still left Sara.
*****
“Ready to seal up,” Seamus said. He picked up his side of the pod cover and waited for Hank. “You try that new apple pie last night?”
“What? I didn’t see any.” Hank picked up his end and they carried the dense plastic cover over to the pod. “All that was left for dessert by the time I got there were those rock hard molasses cookies.”
“Mmm-boy. You missed out, Son. Ain’t too often they break out something new in the cafeteria. You snooze you lose.”
“I guess I’ll have to start eating dinner earlier,” Hank said. “That’s not the first time I’ve missed out on something by the time I get to eat.”
“You’re an old man now,” Seamus grinned. “You gotta start acting like it. Rule one is get up by four in the morning and eat dinner at four in the afternoon. Pretty soon you’ll be telling me you don’t go to bed ‘till eight or nine o’clock!”
Hank chuckled and helped Seamus push the pod into position so it could be secured to the boiler core. Once it was filled with conductive fluid and brought online, they’d be done. It was the last swap for the day and he was looking forward to the last hour of their shift. Hopefully if things kept quiet, he’d have a chance to get even with Seamus in their ongoing gin rummy tournament.
“Woah!” Hank jumped back and banged his head on the pod directly behind him.
“Man, what’s the matter with you?” Seamus scowled. “Scared the hell outta me.”
“I could’ve sworn I just saw her hand twitch. Did you see that?”
Seamus leaned over and shook his head. “Ain’t nothing twitching. Come on, let’s get this shit done. I gotta take a squirt.”
“I’m telling you, I saw her move. You checked for a pulse, right?”
“Yeah, I…” Seamus scratched his head. “Look, the bitch is dead, alright? Won’t make a difference in a minute once it’s full anyway.”
The woman in the pod opened her eyes and lurched upwards, banging her head on the unlatched cover. Hank and Seamus flinched at the same time as the cover fell to the floor and the woman sat up. She thrashed about, obviously far from dead and scared out of her mind. She ripped the breathing apparatus from her mouth and screamed a loud and inhuman shriek. She clawed at the tubes and wires surrounding her, brushing them off like spider webs.
Hank looked to Seamus for answers. “What the hell is going on?”
Seamus just shook his head and backed away from the wailing woman. “Hell if I know! You charged the gun from last time, right? Light was green?”
Hank looked over at the wall to the device that shocked the retirees mounted there. If it wasn’t fully charged, the full amperage needed to render the retiree brain-dead wasn’t delivered. It was designed to not fire at all if that was the case, but it was malfunctioning and Seamus had been waiting for maintenance to fix it for months. It was the reason he insisted Hank checked the status light every time before they used it and why Seamus took extra care when checking for a pulse. Hank couldn’t remember if he had. Another step overlooked while the complacent men talked about pie.
The woman’s thrashing caused the pod to tumble off the scissor lift and crash to the floor. Moaning and heaving, she slowly rose to her feet. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Bald and naked, bulging and insane eyes filled with panic. She spotted Hank and Seamus and shuffled toward them on unsteady feet. Her frantic shrieks of terror turned to two barely coherent words – “help me.” To Hank, it sounded like “ellme.”
What amps did manage to flow through her body weren’t enough to kill her, but the woman’s brain definitely took a little scrambling. She was completely out of her mind. Her mouth was foaming and she held out her arms like a cartoon sleep-walker, shuffling slowly closer to the men like a zombie.
“Ellme!”
The tube inserted in her rear end to collect waste ran out of slack and slid out onto the floor. Blood trickled down the inside of her bare legs. Hank looked again to his partner for answers but Seamus looked just as dumbfounded as him. He was just about to suggest they make a run for it when the door opened and one of the soldiers stuck his head in to investigate the commotion.
It was Private Jim Papst, a pretty decent kid that chatted with Hank a few times in the past. Jim was one of the few soldiers in the plant who treated the retirees like actual people and not cattle that needed babysitting.
The woman spotted Papst and must’ve concluded by his uniform that he might be able to help her. She turned from Hank and Seamus and started shuffling in his direction.
“Ellmee!”
Papst looked at Seamus. “Holy shit. What did you guys do?”
“I don’t know. She just woke up, I swear.” Seamus cleared his throat and took a step toward her. “Hey, uh…lady? Lady, calm down.”
She kept walking toward Papst. “ELLMEE!”
The young private switched into soldier mode and struggled to find some authority in his voice. “Okay, ma’am. Just calm down, nobody is going to hurt you.”
“Ellmee!”
He held up both palms and raised his voice. “Just hold it right there. I need you to stand still.”
“Ellmeeeeee.”
Papst had his back up to the wall and couldn’t retreat any further. He finally unstrapped the sidearm from his holster and trained the gun at the woman’s bare chest. “Stop! You need to stop, right now!”
She paused just a few feet from him and swayed on unsteady legs.
A look of relief flashed over the soldier’s face.
She vomited.
It shot out of her mouth with tremendous force and hit Papst square in the chest and splattered on his face. He reacted with his trigger finger and fired three times. The first shot missed the woman’s head by an inch and hit one of the pods behind her instead. The pressurized tube shattered, causing the conductive fluid to rain to the floor. The pod’s inhabitant followed, his skull, softened by months in the fluid, split open on impact like a melon.
The second round also missed and severed a hydraulic line on the boiler and shorted out a control panel. A warning klaxon and strobe lights filled the room. The third and final shot hit pay dirt. It entered the woman’s forehead and blew out the back of her skull.
Hank and Seamus stood in horror as they watched the lady’s brains spray onto the floor. A second later she collapsed and was still. Papst still pointed his gun at her and was white as a ghost. Sirens wailed, lights flashed, and the smell of co
rdite, vomit, and blood filled the air.
Hendricks and a few soldiers rushed into the room. The lieutenant took in the carnage in front of him - a destroyed pod, a smoking boiler core, and a half-headless naked woman sprawled out and bleeding on the floor.
Private Papst snapped back into reality. “Sir, she wouldn’t stop,” he shouted over the sirens. “I didn’t mean to shoot her, but she barfed on me!”
“Shut the hell up!” He jabbed his finger into Papst’s chest. “Clean yourself off and haul your ass down to my office on the double!”
He turned his attention from the vomit-covered private to Hank and Seamus. “As for you two, I don’t know what the hell happened here, but I intend to find out. And there will be hell to pay.” He pointed at the dead woman. “Now get this thing off my floor and clean this mess up. I’ll deal with the two of you later.”
Hendricks stormed from the room. Hank and Seamus stood for a moment taking in the mess. “I checked the damn pulse,” Seamus muttered to himself as they set to work cleaning up.
Chapter 11
The LED display on the treadmill hit the six mile mark and Sanderson mashed the resistance reset button with his thumb. He slowed his pace to a quick walk and wiped the sweat from his face.
He checked the blank display on his cell phone, grateful to be able to get a run in. Technically, he had the morning off, but word of a possible mission had been going through the agency for the last couple of days and everybody in his department was on call.
He took a deep breath and a sip of water as his heart rate slowed. He stared at the blank brick wall in front him, enjoying the endorphin rush from the run and the sweat covering his body. His workout room was simple. A single treadmill in the middle of their basement storage room. The walls were bare and a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling provided the only light. It was a dark, dusty, and depressing cobweb filled space. He loved it.