Greg broke through the investors who immediately surrounded him. He reached down to a still Dr. Jefferson feeling his neck.. “Oh my God!” He turned him on his back. “Everyone move back!” Greg screamed out as he opened Dr. Jefferson’s shirt. “Barb! Get medical in here, hurry!” He leaned down to him. He listened for a breath that did not emerge. And despite the lost attempts of finding any signs of life, Greg began to try his hardest to revive and help a downed and motionless Dr. Jefferson.
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
July 31st - 7:45 p.m.
They sat on the floor, the three of them, before Rickie. From left to right, smallest to biggest, with Rickie’s bad sense of humor placing Cal in the middle. Rickie sat Indian style before them. He spoke Rickie-style, but he also added a monotone effect. “It’s time to play, win Rickie-Meister’s money.”
“No it’s not.” Jake yelled from the bed. “I’m trying to sleep. Remember Rickie, I don’t sleep when you do.”
“Yeah so.” Rickie said.
“So, no playing games,” Jake demanded lying on the bed.
“Is that your final order, Sarge?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Rickie shuffled some and faced Cal, Billy, and Lou again. “It’s time to play win Rickie-Meister’s money.” He laughed at Jake’s grunt. “The rules are simple. I’m putting up my money for you to win to say I’m smarter than all of you. Or at least to say you can’t figure out how my mind works. So, like, for every question you get right, I’ll give you one hundred dollars of my Iso-Stasis pay of $64,200.”
“Wait.” Lou held up his hand. “Why are you only getting sixty-four thousand? I’m getting a hundred grand.”
“Dude, like, I work for the toot. I get three hundred a day.”
“That sucks,” Lou stated.
“No way, guy. It’s, like, the cool rate of pay. The only downfall is I only get that when I’m working for the toot. Otherwise, I earn, like, minimum wage working at Burger King.”
“That sucks,” Lou repeated. “Only sixty four thousand?”
“I can top that,.” Billy interjected. “Guess how much I make for being here?”
“How much?” Lou asked.
“Nothing. I’m not a participant.”
“Now that sucks.” Lou nodded.
“Okay.” Rickie held up his hand. “Can we, like, play my game now?”
“No!” Jake yelled.
“Sarge, like, if you wanna sleep go in the closet guy. No, wait.” Rickie snickered. “If you do that, then you’ll have to eventually come out of the closet and, like, you’ve been avoiding that for a while.”
“Rickie!” Jake yelled.
“We’ll be quiet.” Rickie grabbed his question notebook. “Okay, I give you a hundred bucks if you answer the question figuring out how my mind works. But, like, I take it back if you guess wrong. Now, since we have no handy dandy hand-held objects that can interfere, I will assign each of you a sound. When you know the answer make that sound, and whatever sound I hear first I’ll call on that person. Billy, you’re buzz. Cal-babe, you’re ding. And Lou-ster, you’re Yo. Got it? Let me hear.”
“Wait.” Billy held up his hand. “Am I ding or dong?”
“Dude, you’re, like, buzz.”
“I’m buzz,” Cal said.
“No, you’re ding, Billy’s buzz, and Lou’s yo. Everyone try it.”
“Buzz.”
“Ding.”
“Dong.”
“Wrong.” Rickie shook his head. “Like, Lou, you’re yo. Get it right, guy, or I’ll not call on you even if you make the only sound. Do it again.”
“Buzz.”
“Ding.”
“Yo.”
“Fuck!” Jake yelled.
“Sarge, are you, like, wanting to play?”
“No!” Jake answered.
“Then quit rehearsing with us, guy.” Rickie shook his head. “All right, first question.” He looked to his notebook. “Easy one. Name the capitol of the United states.”
“Buzz.”
“Yo.”
“Ding.”
“Fuck.”
“Billy, your answer.” Rickie pointed.
“Washington, DC.”
“Wrong. Rickie mind guy, don’t forget, like, would I make the tribute to Greek mythology city the capitol? No way. Cal or Lou, either of you want to try?”
“Vegas?” Cal asked.
“Nope. Lou?”
“New York.”
“Wrong.” Rickie chuckled. “Hollywood guys, they rule with movies there. Next question. How can you tell if a pair of underwear is clean or dirty?”
“Buzz.”
“Ding.”
“Yo.”
“Fuck.”
Rickie gasped. “Sarge, you aren’t playing. Billy, you again.”
“Smell them?” Billy guessed.
Rickie cringed. “Oh guy, that’s, like, gross. Do I look like the type of dude to sniff my drawers? No. Cal-babe, Lou?”
Cal and Lou looked at each other, each of them wanting the other to make a fool out of themselves first.
“No one?” Rickie scratched off the question. “The answer to that one is, when in doubt, toss them out . . . in the laundry. Question three. And guess what, I’m not losing.” Rickie snickered. “Oh, I like this one. Decipher this popular quote spoken in Reed-ESE.” Rickie readied himself. “Er uh a ed-er, aw ew ed-er.”
“Yo.”
“Buzz.”
“Ding.”
Silence, and everyone turned to the bed.
Rickie shrugged. “Guess Sarge doesn’t know it. Lou-ster?”
“For hot bad weather, wear a sweater?”
“Close, but no. Billy? Cal?”
Billy tried. “Herds are much better for true leather?”
“Nope. Cal-babe?”
“Fir up the bed or jot two letters.”
“Oh! Oh! That is so close, but no. And, like, how come I never heard of those quotes before?” Rickie scratched his head. “Anyway, the quote was, birds of a feather flock together. Next mind baffling question. In the scary movie Halloween, what was the name of the creepy slimy guy?”
“Buzz.”
“Yo.”
“Ding.”
“Fuck.”
“Ding, Rickie, Ding!” Cal waved her hand . “I know this. Please. Ding!”
“I believe I heard the ding sound first from my mom. Cal-babe.” Rickie pointed to her while Billy and Lou moaned. “Go on.”
“Michael Meyers.” Cal proudly guessed.
“Wrong,”
“Wrong?” Cal looked in wonder. “No Rickie, that’s right.”
Billy pointed to Cal. “She’s right Rickie. It was Michael.”
“Rickie,” Lou added. “It was Michael, I loved that movie.”
“So did I, dude, but that answer is wrong.” He hunched when they all screamed at him.
Jake didn’t hunch, he burned up. “Christ!” He shouted and sat up. “It’s Rickie’s mind. Come on Cal, think like him. Creepy Slimy. Rickie’s not gonna think the murderer is slimy, not when he’s a monster. Donald Pleasance is who Rickie will say.”
“Sarge!” Rickie cheered his name. “You are absolutely correct-a-mundo.”
“See.” Jake walked over and sat on the floor. “And you people are pathetic.”
“Sarge, are, like, you going to play?” Rickie asked.
“No, Rickie, I’m like going to win. Go on.” Jake waved him on.
“Okay. You need a sound.”
“I have one. ‘Fuck’.”
“Cool. That’ll work.” Rickie bobbed his head, turned a page in his notebook, and continued to pound them with time passing questions of the Win Rickie-Meister’s money game.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
July 31st - 9:00 p.m.
The eight investors had crowded into the lounge, sipping on old coffee and waiting patiently for Greg to return from Cedars Sinai Hospital. There had been no word at all in t
he last seven hours about the former director they had all come to know. Tension was high all over the center. The workers were all on edge. The observing monitors were arguing, and one of them even walked off their shift and out of the building, becoming the second of six to quit.
They all stood up when Greg turned the bend into the lounge, all of them wanting to rush him and ask him questions. But they knew they would get their answers. All of them hope that the long length of time it took for Greg to return was time spent successfully saving Dr. Jefferson.
“I was told you’d be here,” Greg stated. “I thought . . . I thought you’d be in the control room, but I’m glad you’re all still around.” Greg’s head dropped, and he kept his hands in the front pocket of his dress pants, his button down shirt out of his pants and hanging. “They brought him back and were able to get his heart beating. But . . .” Greg’s voice cracked. “They couldn’t keep it that way. They tried for hours, but unfortunately, Dr. Jefferson didn’t make it.” Greg closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. And I need to get to my office. I’ll speak to you all later.” Slowly he turned and moved to the door.
“Wait.” Aldo rushed to him. “Look, we all know this is a terrible thing that happened to Jefferson. We liked him. But there’s another issue at hand, Haynes. The amoebas. Dr. Jefferson knew how to destroy them. Do you know where his notes are?”
“Yes I do,” Greg answered, and heard the sighs of relief come from all of them. “He had them safely tucked away for no one to find. And no one ever will. Unfortunately for all of us, the secret of how to beat the amoebas . . . . left this world when Dr. Jefferson did.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 2nd - 11:17 a.m.
The storage closet was long and thin, adjacent to the large recreation room, complete with pinball machine, two tables , a juke box, a couch, and other recreationally relaxing things. It was handy, near the center of the building, and was a secondary storage place. Because of its easy access, things during the past five months were moved from the main storage area of the control building to there.
It was packed from floor to ceiling, and Stan couldn’t recall ever seeing it so jammed with stuff. He recalled other fond memories of that closet - that quaint little incident he had had in there with that red-head lab assistant, Sherrie, when they were setting up the control center, and the day they were all in the closet, tears in their eyes, watching Ollie’s cat give birth to the kittens, kittens whose lives were abruptly and violently cut short by Jake.
“Touch it,” Stan told Richard. “I’m telling you it is.”
“No. It just looks like it.”
“Touch it.” Stan nodded. “We can test it.”
Richard reached out his finger tips and laid them on Stan’s forehead. He pulled them away, rubbing. “Moisture. You’re right.”
“Yep. Perspiration. Can you believe that? I broke a sweat.”
“We’ve been working hard.”
“And we aren’t done yet.” Stan wiped his hand over his head and cringed. “I thought sweating was a puberty thing for me. It’s been years.”
“It’s not sweat,” Richard corrected. “You are perspiring. Fine men like ourselves don’t sweat.”
“True. And I hope it stops.”
“Possibly when we’re done.”
“Possibly.”
“Let’s go.” Richard walked from the closet with Stan. “We’ll get this done, and then we’re off to do the action hero stuff.”
Stan stopped walking. “Is it really action hero stuff? Doesn’t it have to be for unselfish means?”
“It does.” Richard took a moment to think. “We can say it is.”
“I’ll go along with that.”
“Let’s finish up.”
“Let’s.” Stan followed Richard down the hall.
^^^^
Cal pounded twice on the door. “Jake. Please!” she called out long and whiney.
“Cal,” he snapped back. “What do you want me do?”
“Hurry.”
“I just got in here.”
“Hurry.”
“Cal,” Jake snapped again. “I asked you before I went in here if you needed to get in here first. You said no.”
“Then the babies shifted, Jake, and the pressure hit,” Cal complained. “You know what I’m like.”
“Yes I do, and that’s why I asked you first. Now, can I help it you have to pee thirty million fuckin times a day?”
“Oh my God!” Cal gasped. “I’m pregnant.”
“Well, blame Billy for that one.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
“And hurry.”
Jake snarled loudly at her.
Lou saw Cal, arms folded, walking around the bed. “Cal. Please. Don’t.?”
“Don’t what?” Cal asked him.
“Just . . . Shh. No bitching today.”
“Oh, that’s easy for you to say.” Cal’s voice raised. “You were the one who whipped out his penis and pissed in a bottle when Rickie was in the bathroom for twenty minutes.”
“He did what!” Jake blasted from the bathroom.
“Whipped out his penis and took a leak, Jake. You were sleeping.”
“Lou.”
“I had to go,” Lou defended himself.
“And so do I!” Cal yelled. “Hurry, Jake!”
“All right!”
“I can’t take it.” Cal ran her fingers through her hair. “Stuck in a room. Yes. In a room with four men who don’t know how to use a bathroom quickly!”
“Cal-babe.” Rickie was the calm one. “Just take one of the buckets in the closet and go.”
“Then what Rickie?” Cal snapped at him. “Trot out of the closet like I’m little red fuckin riding hood with my bucket of urine?”
“Well . . . yeah.” He snickered. “That was funny.”
Cal grunted, folded her arms, and continued walking towards Billy. His fingers moved fast on the lap top. “You aren’t saying anything,” she told him.
“General fear of you at this moment has made me silent.”
Cal was getting ready in her ‘really having to go’ miserable phase, but she stopped when she looked down at Billy and really saw him. Hair messed up. Focus forward, face pale. “Billy?”
“You aren’t gonna yell, are you? I’m sorry it’s my fault you have to pee so bad.”
“No.” She shook her head and lowered to the floor. “Are you all right?” She asked him softly.
“Why?”
“You don’t look all right.”
Billy stopped typing. He looked to see Rickie and Lou then scooted closer to Cal. “No. I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Cal. I’m stuck in this room. We’ve been in this room for eleven days.”
“Billy, it’s a mental endurance experiment.”
“I’m scared right now of how much I’ll be able to endure.” Billy scratched the top of his head frantically. “I’m afraid not much more.”
“Me either.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She tilted her head back and screamed her loudest. “If someone doesn’t hurry up in that bathroom!”
“Oh for sure I’m not coming out!” Jake yelled back. “Hold it.”
Cal grumbled and looked at Billy who shook his head with a chuckle. “You’ll be fine.” She laid her hand on his knee. “Trust me. And I won’t let this experiment drive you nuts.”
“Promise me that.” Billy requested with passion. “Promise me.”
Cal leaned her face closer to his. “I promise you. Besides, why would I let the experiment take that pleasure away from me?” She smiled when Billy did and turned her head to the sound of the bathroom door opening. “And right now, you’ve just been saved a round of Cal torture. Boost me up.”
Shuffling his hand under her backside, Billy gave Cal a push helping her spring to her feet. Feeling a little better, but not much, Billy returned to wh
ere he was before, in front of his lap top in what he had started to call his Hemingway Corner.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
August 2nd - 1:10 p.m.
The noise level was ‘New York stock exchange’ loud on the meeting level of the control room. They had divided up the table, each using a section to do their own thing. Though a lot of the time the investors worked from the Caldwell quarters, all them at that moment were in the control room, not wanting to take a chance on missing the cabin fever antics of the five trapped in the bungalow.
All but two investors had a laptop. Ivan didn’t need one, he used the phone to reschedule his plastic surgery patients or refer them to another doctor. Caruso ran his business, but he didn’t need a computer, he was the vocal master, only paged or called when needed. Daniela didn’t need a computer, either ,but he had one there, using idle time to master his skills in the newest version of Doom. Of course his video game obsession secured his title ‘the kid’ with the investors.
Greg cleared his throat three times before he got the attention of the investors. There was silence and a final gunshot from Daniela’s game. “Thank you.” Greg smiled when they all looked at him. “There’s someone I need for you to meet. You’ll be getting quite used to him hanging about. He’s going to be helping us. Through my connection at NASA, we found him and got him to agree to this. He was the top graduate of his class at MIT in biology, and he’s our hope.” Greg reached behind him and opened the door. “Dr. Colin Whitney.”
He looked like a grown up version of the kid in school that everyone had made fun of. The smart kid who was never rich and never well dressed because his family couldn’t afford it. Though he dressed better now, you could clearly see the past written all over Colin Whitney’s appearance. Not too thin and not too tall, average in build, he wore tan dress pants and a button down shirt with a blue tie. The pocket protector he wore had NASA written in the left hand corner, most likely a souvenir he was so proud of. He had tried to better his looks, and you could see the attempt by the way he tried to part his very short cropped dark hair. With a good face on him, Aldo would describe Colin as the type of man that if he just had a crash course in fashion, he could probably get any broad he wanted.
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