“Rickie.” Jake stopped him. “Really, you should think about this date and the post-date physical activities you want to engage in with her.”
“Huh?” Rickie was confused.
Corporal Lancing decided to help out. “Getting laid.”
“Yeah, cool.” Rickie smiled and started to leave again.
“Rickie.” Jake tried again. “If I can? Please?”
“Okau. Is this like Dad advice time?”
Jake cringed. “You can say that.” Placing himself in a mentor mode, Jake set down his briefcase, moving his hands about as he spoke. “I know right now gratification is most on your mind. I was there, I was your age once. But, closeness is important too. Feeling for someone is important. If you want to be intimate with someone, fine, but you really should try to be intimate with someone you truly, truly care about.”
“Like you and Cal-babe.”
“Exactly.” Jake’s hands dropped in relief. “Find someone special.”
“No way, dude. I don’t wanna end up being this thirty-five year old virgin who has to go on an isolation experiment in order to get laid. See ya.”
Before words could come from Jake’s wide open mouth, Rickie was out the door.
Caldwell Research Institute - Atlanta, GA
March 28th - 5:00 p.m.
There was a certain odor in the wing of the Caldwell building reserved for researching the remnants of experiment twelve, An odor that Greg swore would stick in his nose forever. The mixture of chemicals, death, and formaldehyde was overwhelming, and Greg shuddered from the smell when he walked into the lab where the worst of the odor came from.
Stan worked hard in the lab that was dedicated to the remains of those who had died in Iso-Stasis Twelve. Remains that belonged to Caldwell, signed over by the participants when they agreed to go. Remains that would be useful in preparing for the next experiment.
Someone thought they were funny--probably Stan--by refreshing the red nail polish on Jennifer Reilly’s severed arm. The brightness of the new coat of paint looked nearly flourescent in the bluish liquid it dangled in.
“How is it going, Stan?” Greg asked. “Getting prepared for the next phase?”
“Yes, trying,” Stan answered.
Greg looked at what they called in the lab, ‘The Wall of Parts.’ Individual pools of preservation liquid. Each vat a different size depending on what it held. All encased behind a wall of glass for easy viewing. Some vats held arms, fingers, a foot. Only two bodies had limbs attached. Greg strolled by the two six-foot cases. Carlos Valenz was in the first. He dangled in the fluid, arms outward. Half his body, though gray, appeared normal, while the other half showed the signs of the meal the wolves had made of him. Then Greg stopped cold in front of John Montgomery’s case. John’s left eye hung from the socket, but other than that, his body was unscathed with the exception of the visible means of his death. A single, large, fist-sized hole in the center of his neck. Flesh floated outward from the injury that one could peek through to see the other side of the wall.
“His father keeps calling.” Stan interrupted Greg’s staring of John.
“How often.”
“Every day. He says he’ll continue to call every day, too, until he knows what happened to his son.”
“Did you tell him his son signed the forms?” Greg asked.
“Yes, and Dr. Jefferson said to fax him a copy. I did. He doesn’t care. He’s persistent.”
“Isn’t his father . . .” Greg pointed to John’s body, “. . .the Theodore Montgomery who owns that huge weekly news magazine?”
“Yes. That’s the one. Says he’s going to do a story.”
“Is that so.” Greg smiled with a hint of snideness. “Do me a favor, Stan. The next time he calls, lose your cool.”
“Dr. Haynes, that might not be good, he . . .”
“Listen to me. You lose your cool, and you tell him one way or another how fed up you are with family members threatening stories. Find a way to get him to call Billy Griffith.”
“Sir.” Stan bit his bottom lip. “Not meaning to insult you, but how bright is that? Two newsmen?”
“No, Stan. See, I got Billy Griffith off the story for nearly the next three years. Perhaps Billy’s enthusiasm can pull Mr. Montgomery into the waiting game as well.”
“I see where you’re going. I’ll handle it.”
“Good.” Greg looked at the time. “And I must go. I have Dr. Jefferson’s party to go to. Page me if you need me.”
“I will,” Stan told him. “And Dr. Haynes, sorry about your date blowing you off.”
Greg stopped cold. “Is nothing secret around this place?”
Stan chuckled. “No. This is the Iso-Stasis experiment. Everyone knows everything.”
“Is that so?” He questioned. “Everything?” Smiling with arrogance, Greg proceeded to leave.
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
March 28th - 8:30 p.m.
There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the house, nor was there electricity. But Cal and Jake were there enjoying every new minute in their first home together. The fireplace was lit, and a trail of clothes led to where Cal and Jake sat on the floor on a sleeping bag, Jake clad only in his boxers, and Cal in his tee shirt. There were open cartons of Chinese food, a bottle of champagne, and two glasses.
“Open up.” Jake held chopsticks toward Cal.
“Jake, I am not your child.” She pulled her knees close to her chest.
“No. But when you stop picking apart your food like one, I’ll stop trying to convince you to eat like you’re one. Open up.”
Cal opened her mouth and Jake placed the piece of chicken inside.
“Cal, chew. Thank you.”
She smiled and wiped the sauce from her lips.
Jake lowered himself down to her, laying his lips to her with a light touch. “We are going to do good in this house.”
“Yeah we are.”
“Won’t take much to get it in order. We pretty much can move our stuff right in. Just paint here and there.” Jake looked around. “Especially that nursery.” He saw Cal shaking her head. “No? We aren’t painting the nursery? Why?”
“Rickie says leave it like that. He took that as his room. He likes big bird. What can I say.”
“There’s something wrong with him.” Jake put down the carton of food and grabbed the glasses of champagne handing Cal hers. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”
“It really was my pleasure Major . . .” Cal snickered when Jake placed his finger over her mouth. “Sorry, Lt. Col Graison.”
“Do you realize that the next time you and I, well, you know, in this house, we’ll be married?”
“I know. I can’t wait until everyone stops calling me Mrs. Graison-to-be.”
“And speaking of being Mrs. Graison.” Jake set down his glass. “What happened to you today?”
“What do you mean?”
“The catering manager from the hotel called me this morning. He said you didn’t show for your appointment to finalize the menu.”
“I went,” Cal said. “After the closing.”
“You were supposed to be there at eleven.”
“Oh.” Cal sipped and set her drink down. “Billy called and was flying in. So I . . .”
“Who?”
“Billy, the reporter. So I met him for an early lunch while he was in . . . in . . . Jake?” Cal noticed the widened glare Jake had in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“You failed to mention you had a date.”
Cal laughed. “It was spur of the moment, and it was lunch.”
“Is there a romantic involvement I should worry about?”
Cal laughed even louder. “No. Jake, don’t be silly. Actually, I have to tell you, we’re becoming friends. Real friends.”
Jake fluttered his lips. “Don’t get caught up in that friendship, Cal. He’s using you.”
“Oh he is not.”
“Yeah he is. He wants you to think he’s your frien
d. You finally trust him and talk and he leaks a story.”
“Jake, you really are the worst judge of character. You don’t trust anyone at all.”
“Nope.”
“Well, if you talk to him you’ll . . .”
“Cal.” Jake interrupted. “I don’t want to talk to him. That’s your department. And what the hell do you two talk about if it’s not about the experiment?”
Clinging to her legs, Cal peered up to Jake. “Sometimes we talk about things . . . things that I should be talking about . . . with you.”
Jake’s expression dropped, his lips pressed together. “Like what? What is there that you can’t talk to me about, Cal?”
“Aside from my period . . .”
“Cal, please.” Jake held up his hands.
Cal snickered then stopped. “My dreams.”
“Now I’m upset that you didn’t talk to me. I didn’t think you had any hopes or aspirations you wished to pursue.”
Cal’s lip twitched, and holding back the laughing was impossible. “No, Jake. God, you can be so serious and literal. No, real dreams, or, rather . . . nightmares.”
With a long breath Jake, ran his forefinger and thumb down his face. “About the experiment.” He watched Cal nod. “Cal, why wouldn’t you talk to me?”
“I was afraid.”
There was hurt in Jake’s voice when he spoke. “Afraid of what? It’s me, Cal. You’re marrying me. I love you. Why would you be afraid to talk to me about dreams?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was weak, that I didn’t handle the experiment. Jake . . .” Cal laid her hand over his mouth. “You brag about me when you talk about the experiment. You brag. I didn’t want to shatter your illusion of me.”
Jake pulled away her hand and kissed it. “Cal, just because you have nightmares doesn’t make you weak, or show that you didn’t handle it. And do you think I’d be any less proud of you if you were? Those nightmares are normal. They are your mind’s way of telling you to talk about it, get through it. Cal . . .” Jake lowered his face close to hers. “They are normal.”
“So you have them too?”
“No.” Jake shook his head and smiled when Cal tossed her hands up. “But I did when I first started doing this type of shit. Just . . . just don’t turn to someone else. Come to me, okay?” Jake pulled her into him. “Or else I may get jealous.”
“You, Jake, have no reason to ever be jealous.”
“I know. But . . . Cal, just know . . . you’re my entire world. All I have and want. I don’t think you realize how scared I am of losing you.”
“Then know this.” Cal looked up to him. “I can swear on my soul I will never leave you and you will never be alone again, Lt. Col. Graison.” Cal anticipated his kiss. He leaned to her, but his arm extended a bit too far. Looking at him oddly, she received her answer when his one arm tightened the embrace around her and the other hand extended a small piece of chicken.
“Now I got you. Eat.”
It wasn’t her laughing that caused Cal to fail. It was her attempts to shake her head and keep her mouth tightly closed that were in vain. Jake pinched her nostrils shut until Cal had no choice but to open her mouth in order to breath. And when she did, Jake, laughing arrogantly, placed the small bit of chicken in her mouth and sealed it with a kiss.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Caldwell Research Institute - Atlanta, GA
April 8th - 6:30 p.m.
Dr. Jefferson’s tossing of a folder onto Greg’s desk preceded his smile and words. “I’m impressed.”
Greg returned the smile as he sat there. “Thank you, sir.”
“I have to tell you. When I reviewed your ideas and cost breakdown of Iso-thirteen, I really thought there was no way he was going to be able to pull it off.” Dr. Jefferson sat down in the chair. “Where did you get the idea?”
“Well . . .” Greg rocked some in his chair. “If you think about it, many institutions ranging from the church to the US government find merit in our studies. And we pass it along to other private corporations as well to use with their research. How many of these corporations are looking for something specific, but by law or by ethics they cannot obtain results? I merely stated in a letter that the next Iso-Stasis experiment would be open to experimental suggestions that may be helpful to them in their research. And you know, I added that investment opportunities to help fund these private experiments would be greatly appreciated.”
“So without saying it outright, you told them, if you pay, you receive.”
“Exactly. I sent this letter out five weeks ago. The response was so overwhelming I had to pick and choose which research results sought by the private sector would and could go hand-in-hand with what we are trying to accomplish.”
“That many?”
“Yes,” Greg answered. “And there were a lot of ‘We need to see what would happen ifs . . .’ that were just too time consuming and really didn’t fit into the Iso-thirteen agenda I had planned out.”
“I reviewed some of the ones you picked. Are you going to be able to fit what you planned and these all in?” Dr. Jefferson ask.
“See, this where new ideas arrive. Previous experiments went across the board. Group oriented, all for one, one for all. Not now. More individualized circumstances will be thrown their way.” Greg winked. “Which plays a role when it comes to the selection process.”
“I understand a lot of them and how they can actually work for us. But one of them . . .” Dr. Jefferson reached for the folder, flipping through it. He pulled out a letter. “This one here baffles me. How in the world do you plan on satisfying research needs for the Waverley Marriage and Sexuality Study Program?”
Greg just took the letter and smiled. “Trust me. I know exactly how I’m utilizing their needs into ours. Trust me.”
Fayetteville, North Carolina
April 8th - 8:15 p.m.
It was a quaint and quiet seafood restaurant where Jake and Cal held their small personalized rehearsal dinner.
Reserved would be the demeanor best described at the table of nine who finished up for the evening. Jake and Cal. Chuck and Rickie with a haircut. Joyce Swindle and her boyfriend, Peter. Reverend Tim. And because he had been predominant in Jake’s life, Colonel Roberts and his wife, Annabel.
There was something about Cal’s longtime friend, Joyce, that annoyed Jake. Not that she ever said anything negative to him. She was always pleasant when she phoned the house. But she irritated Jake. Se was a woman the same age as Cal, though much taller with a large bone structure.
“A drink or two, Jake, with some conversation,” Joyce told him as they all stood by the table waiting to go. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Joyce, thank you.” Jake shook his head as he held Cal’s hand. “But really, I need to finish up some work because Cal and I will be gone for a week.”
Cal looked up to Jake. “Just the five of us. Joyce, Pete, Chuck, you and me. Please?”
“Cal, sweetie, you go.” Jake spoke softly. “Go on. Relax. Chuck? Will you bring her home?”
“You know it. I’ll watch her for you, Jake, so she doesn’t have any of those last minute flings.”
Jake grumbled slightly under his breath. “Thanks.”
“Dude.” Rickie spoke up. “Like you should go and get trashed. Bob and Ann will drive me home. Ann said she’ll babysit me.”
Jake’s eyebrow raised. “Mrs. Roberts, Rickie. And you’re eighteen years old, you don’t need a babysitter.”
“Then Sarge, how come you have me chilling at their house while you and the Cal-babe are dying and flying on your honeymoon?”
“Because I still want a house when we get home, Rickie.”
“Oh.”
Colonel Roberts stepped forward. “The boy has a point, Jake, maybe you should just join Cal and your friends for a drink. You’re getting married tomorrow. You’ve been planning this thing like a mission. Go out, have a good time and relax.”
Jake smiled. “Thank you. But
really, going out isn’t what I need. I need to get my work done. Get that off my mind, then go home, because I’m already too hyper about this as it is.” Jake saw the sudden stares of surprise he got from everyone. “Really, I am. I’m extremely excited.”
Joyce raised her eyebrows. “Oh boy,” she whispered to Cal. “If he’s extremely excited, I feel really bad for you.”
“He just doesn’t show it,” Cal whispered back, then turned to Jake. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. You go without me. Have a good time. We really shouldn’t see each other after midnight anyhow.” Jake raised his eyes over to Chuck. “Chuck, just make sure she gets safe and sound into the new house.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Jake placed his arm around Cal. “Walk me out.” When she nodded, he started to walk, turning around and saying goodnight to everyone else.
There was silence as Joyce stood by Chuck waiting for Jake to leave. When he was gone, Joyce turned to Chuck. “I’ll get a hold of Aldo and tell him Jake isn’t coming after all.”
“You do that, and I’ll call my friends.”
“Excellent.” Joyce smiled. “It’s a party.”
^^^^
Billy’s suitcase was still on the hotel bed, unopened. He was pulling his laptop out preparing to settle into a night of writing, half way through the laptop boot-up sequence, when the phone rang. It was a weird ring - two short rings at a time, instead of one long one. Thinking something had to be wrong at the front desk, he walked over and answered the phone and immediately heard the loud sound of music. “Hello?”
“Billy,” Cal nearly shouted. “They told me you finally checked in.”
“Cal?” Billy sat on the bed. “What is all that noise?”
“It’s a party. Come on down.”
“Down?”
“To the lounge. Hurry up. I’ll be waiting. And bring your license, the Secret Service are bouncing at the door.”
Billy heard the click and looked oddly at the phone. “Secret Service?”
^^^^
Amoeba (The Experiments) Page 11