Hyper

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "Okay, Tarzan," said Jenny, standing at my side as we both looked up at the hole twenty or twenty-five feet up the trunk. Mom and Meredith had remained in the car. "Do your thing."

  I shimmied up, half-hoping a squirrel or owl or some creature had made off with the camera, but no such luck. It emerged in my hand, undamaged.

  A pair of black SUVs roared up the road, raising rooster tails of dust, and skidded to a stop on either end of Jenny's Toyota. Several men clambered out with a casual, unhurried air, as if they'd just stopped to sight-see. They ambled over to my tree. My old friend, Crooked Nose in the lead. He grinned up at me.

  "Searching for the rare Spotted Owl?" he called.

  Strangely, I was a lot more pissed off than afraid. I would've been happy if Jenny had chosen to drop the whole video to internet plan, but seeing Crooked Nose and company's smug smiles made me want to wipe them from their faces.

  I powered on Jenny's camera. The WiFi showed 4.5 bars. I wasn't sure if the nearby tower or towers were back online or if my reach was greater high in the tree. But there it was. I tapped the media symbol and a long list of image files materialized.

  "Don't get any bright ideas, kid," Crooked Nose growled up at me, holding out his hands. "Toss the camera down. Now."

  Now or never. Drop the camera into his meat-hook hands and it was all over. The path to an easy life would remain clear. I could live one hundred and fifty years or more. Everything I wanted would be within my grasp.

  I tapped Jenny's email account. Under a list of contacts was ALT NEWS. I touched it and an email opened with Activist Post, True World, and Masters of the Universe? listed as recipients. I felt I was just following through on a hypothetical experiment when I hit the Attach Files symbol. The entire contents of her media folder sprang up. I selected them all.

  "Tell you what," said Crooked Nose. He grabbed Jenny by one arm and jerked her to him. "Either you toss me the camera or I break your lady friend's arm. What do you say?"

  Jenny spun suddenly, whipping her left foot into the security dude's groin. As he doubled over, she drove an elbow into the side of his head. He hit the ground like a big sack of sand. She stared up at me with blazing eyes.

  "Do it!" she cried.

  I hit send. The loading bar began to move. I had a flash of my "Golden Key" flitting away on broad, white wings.

  Below, the men closed in on Jenny, who'd adopted a classic martial arts stance. I lodged the camera halfway into its hole, confirming it was still sending, and then scampered and slid down the tree, ignoring the rips, gouges, and bruises administered by hostile branches. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I wouldn't let Jenny face these thugs alone.

  I hit the ground. Three or four men peeled away from the circle around Jenny and headed my way. Lacking any martial arts stance, I snapped off a thick branch and held it like a baseball bat.

  "Hold off on the kid," said Crooked Nose, pushing back to his feet with a pained grunt. "Grab the bitch."

  Jenny snapped a couple of kicks and threw a punch before the mass of large male bodies immobilized her. I swung my branch at the nearest of the three men before me. He dropped back but another one rushed me, seizing me in a bear hug before I could recover my balance.

  "Who's in the car?" someone called.

  "The kid's mom," Crooked Nose replied. "Dr. Stevens. Leave her where she is."

  He walked up to Jenny, who was struggling in the tangle of brawny arms but going nowhere. She faced him defiantly.

  "Hold her tight," he said.

  There was nothing I could do but watch and grimace and curse as the big bastard used her body like a punching bag. Thump, thump, thump – punches to her sides, abs, and chest. I could tell he wasn't punching at full strength. More like a boxer warming up, I thought. Smack. His fist hit her face did center to the sharp crackle of breaking bone and cartilage. Jenny slumped in their arms.

  "No!" I shouted. "Stop it, or I swear to God –"

  Crooked Nose paused to turn back to me. "Swear to God what, kid?"

  "I'll...make you...pay?"

  He snickered along with several others. "Sounds like you're asking a question."

  He nodded to the others, who released Jenny. She crumpled to the ground and lay there unmoving.

  "Get the fucking camera, Macky," he said, nodding to one of the slimmer men. "Maybe it's not too late."

  The dude clawed his way to the top. I took small satisfaction in his pained grunts as he wrestled with branches and bark. But he reached the camera and scrambled down with it. He handed it to Crooked Nose and stood with him as he thumbed through the files.

  "Looks like he sent a shitload of AVI and IMG files to some tinfoil sites," he said. He lifted his eyes and peered at me over the camera. A grin broke out on his beastly face and he shook his head. "For someone they say is so smart, that was a truly dumb move, kid. You'll learn that soon enough."

  He stuffed the camera in his jogging jacket and nodded to the others.

  "Let's get the fuck out of here."

  They paraded back into their black SUVs and rumbled away. I rushed through the grass and dropped down beside Jenny. She moaned when I touched her shoulder. I stared down at her pale, battered face. Her nose was mashed down and one tooth protruded through her upper lip. I hunched over, fighting back an upward gush of bile.

  Meredith and my mom emerged from the car and kneeled beside me. My mom felt her neck and plucked open her eyelids.

  "I think she has a mild concussion," she said. "She may be bleeding internally from those blows."

  "We need to get her to an ER," said Merry. She raised her cell.

  "No..." Jenny's eyes fluttered open. "Don't have...medical insurance. Just drive me home...roommate's a doctor...she'll patch me up."

  Meredith shook her head. "You could bleed out before we get back to Sacramento."

  "Don't worry about the cost," I said. "I'll cover that."

  Jenny's eyes closed and her head lolled back in the grass. No. But she was still breathing and a pulse was visible in her throat.

  Meredith and I lifted her gently onto the Toyota's back seat. Meredith drove while I searched for the nearest hospital online. I gave her directions to Trinity Hospital, about a half-hour away. Jenny lay with her head in my lap, her face nearly matching the cream-white interior. This is what happens when you're brave, when you take a stand. I didn't want that thought. I wanted to believe in heroism and good triumphing over evil. What was the point if evil ruled?

  But what if it wasn't all evil? What if someone's bold but morally dubious vision did cause positive change, as Max Emanuel claimed?

  And what if fighting it changed nothing – I looked down at Jenny's marred features – except this?

  "OH NO!" Melanie moaned. "No, no, no!"

  We were watching on Melanie's laptop one of the dozens of videos from Jenny's camera that had sprung up on Dreamvid. This one was the "money shot" – of me, unfortunately. Me and Dr. Martha Eberhart, in our post-drowning resuscitation scene. And the video poster had even put our names on the subject line! How could it get any worse than this?

  "That hussy!" my mom hissed. "You never said you'd been with that slut!"

  We both looked up at our mom, standing over our shoulders. Melanie with puzzled surprise, me with dread. Since coming home last night, I hadn't had the chance to bring my sister up to speed. Hadn't had the desire, either. But now, Jenny's videos begged for an explanation.

  Most of them had three billion-plus hits. Nothing to do with people's outrage; everything to do with the bohemian goings-on at Ellsworth Retreat. Since Jenny hadn't recovered enough to post an accompanying narrative, for now it was just a shitload of sex and scandal. Bread and circuses, as my persnickety sophomore history teacher had so often described current events.

  "I think your son" – Melanie emphasized the word with the appropriate prejudice – "just managed to really screw himself over this time. He's even got a sex video with his name on it!"

  I sank
back from the computer screen, but there was no escaping the putrid pull of the images. The only plus side is that I looked pretty heroic dragging Martha back to shore. But that plus didn't last long.

  My cell rang. It was the twelfth or thirteenth call I'd gotten this morning. I'd spoken briefly to Keith and Gertie, a little longer to Jim, and a solid half-hour to Ragnar and Meredith together on speaker-phone. This call was from Jenny. About the only thing I was thankful for right then was that her injuries hadn't been major and that she was now resting comfortably at her condo under the expert and loving care of her Dr. roommate and best friend, Kayla. I answered the call.

  "Hey," I said, a rare smile breaking out. "I'm glad you called. I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?"

  Two or three seconds passed. I could hear her breathing – a deep, sea-diver rasp. I guessed her chest might be pretty congested or she was just hurting from her beating. But then more silence, and a soft chill worked its way up the forearm supporting my cell.

  "Aiden...it's Kayla."

  My fingers started to tighten around the phone. It hit me suddenly that those deep sea-diver sounds were actually a woman sobbing. Sobbing while covering the receiver.

  "Jenny...?" I choked out.

  "I just left her for a few minutes to go out for a prescription," said Kayla. "When I got back..."

  "What?"

  "She was gone."

  I almost asked: Gone where?

  "But..." I gripped my throat, trying to squeeze out the words. "How? What happened?"

  "I don't know, yet. There wasn't any internal bleeding, so I'm guessing a blood clot caused a stroke. I..." Her voice broke. She started crying. I gritted my teeth. A woman crying had to be the worst sound in the world. Even worse when you wanted to cry with them. I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of sadness broke over me. I thought of Jenny, so courageous, so strong, and so beautiful – all her magnificent spirit snuffed out – and I couldn't stop a few tears from slipping through.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. My sister giving me a teary-eyed smile and nod.

  Then anger burned through my grief. Those fucking bastards – that one fucking crooked nose bastard – had killed her. Even if Jenny hadn't died on the scene, what he'd done to her had led to her death. Unless... The muscles in my forehead knotted.

  "How was she when you left her?" I asked.

  "In some discomfort, but okay. We were talking about watching silly romantic movies later..." Her voice cracked again.

  "Is there any sign of someone entering your house? I mean, while you were gone."

  "Sign? You're thinking that someone broke in?"

  "It just seems strange that she was doing so well and then..."

  "That's what happens with blood clots." Kayla sniffled a few times, and her voice steadied, grew stronger. "They end up in the wrong place and..." She made a strangled noise. "It's over."

  "She was so strong, so full of life. She was recovering. Something just doesn't feel right."

  "I know. It totally doesn't feel right. No one was stronger than Jenny..."

  I braced myself as she started crying again. I didn't want to cry or feel grief. I wanted to get to the bottom of this. Not now. Now I needed to know if they'd killed her. Not indirectly because some big buffoon had smacked her around, but directly – because someone had snuck into their condo and murdered her. That would mean Max Emanuel ordered it. Was he really capable of that?

  "I'll make sure we know the cause of death, Aiden," said Kayla. "I know the Sacramento ME personally. I'll have her look for signs of foul play. If the assholes actually came in here..."

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. "Thanks, Kayla."

  "And I'm going to file a criminal complaint against the piece of shit who beat her. And against Ellsworth Retreat. I'm sure her parents will want to file a lawsuit."

  "They will pay," I said. "Somehow."

  "Yes. We'll make them pay. And I will learn the cause of death."

  Neither of us spoke. Melanie continued to regard me with sympathetic eyes while my mom looked increasingly impatient.

  "Good," I said. "But Kayla...maybe you should be a bit careful about going after those people."

  Another silence followed. I hoped she wasn't going to ask me how to go about that.

  "I know they're powerful, Aiden," she said. "But we can't just let them get away with this."

  "No." But of course that was what Jenny had said. I sighed. "Just be careful, okay?"

  "I will." She cleared her throat. "Jenny loved you. She told me that. I think she'd want you to know."

  I closed my eyes again against another wave of grief. My sister's hand withdrew. My mom made a low rumbling noise. They were probably getting tired of all this emotion involving yet another of "my women."

  "Thank you," I whispered through my clenched lips.

  "I'll let you know what happens. Let's stay in touch, please. We could even get together sometime, if you'd like."

  "All right," I said, ignoring my sister and mom's shaking heads. "I'll talk to you later."

  "Okay. Bye, Aiden."

  I set aside my cell, praying that the calls would stop for a while. I didn't want to hear any more terrible news. Jenny's dead. I just couldn't believe it. Not her. It seemed far too cruel.

  Melanie reached around me and closed my laptop. "I'm sorry about your...friend."

  I made myself nod. "Thanks."

  "Do you really think CellEvolve might've snuck into their house and..."

  "I don't know. But even if they didn't, they're still responsible –"

  Something crashed. Before the cause could register, footfalls thundered into the living room and someone was screaming: "RSA – Special Operations! Get down! Get down!"

  I'd just about figured out what was happening by the time they stormed into the room. None of us moved.

  "Get on the floor!" some guy in a black visor and uniform shouted, pointing a rifle at my head. In an instant, we had enough rifles aimed at us to place on the wrong side of a firing squad.

  I eased off my chair and stretched out on the floor next to Melanie and my mom. A knee crunched into my spine as my hands were yanked behind my back and manacles clamped to my wrists.

  "What the fuck –" Melanie started.

  "Shut up. Say nothing."

  My sister's words hung in the air as the RSA agents split up and stomped through the rest of the house, opening doors, knocking over things, and periodically shouting: "Get down, get down!" To the dust piles they were raising, I guessed.

  Reproductive Safety Agency. No mystery about why they were here. Someone had tipped them off to my starring role in that one video. I just hadn't expected any authorities to arrive so soon or so melodramatically. What about me rated an RSA "Special Operations" team instead of a local police officer?

  "This is outrageous!" my mom snarled, lifting her face off the floor. "Why the hell are you breaking into my house without a warrant?"

  "We have a warrant," one of them snapped. "A no-knock search warrant for the premises and an arrest warrant for your son, Aiden." I was hauled to my feet to face the black-visored speaker. "Aiden Scott Stevens, you are under arrest, for violation of Statute 144 of the Human Reproductive Safety Act."

  "Why didn't you just send a Jefferson cop like last time?" I asked.

  "Because this is your second violation –"

  "Alleged violation – "

  "– federal protocol calls for an RSA Special Operations team to serve the warrant," the agent finished without acknowledging my interjection.

  Two RSA agents marched me toward the front door – the front opening, that is, since the door was lurching to one side like a drunken sailor. I glanced back, but I'd lost the angle to see into my bedroom, and my mom and sister were already a memory.

  Chapter 34

  "THIS VIDEO DOES NOT establish my client's guilt," Georgia Selby stated.

  Georgia, I, my mom, and Melanie sat at a long table in the Federal Adjudications Room
across from Sally Lincoln, RSA Special Prosecutor, Sacramento County District Federal Attorney Teresa Winston, and Max Emanuel with his lawyer from CellEvolve, Malcolm Coldwell. The grey-haired Mark Twain look-alike who'd helped me with my case a lifetime ago barely looked at me, but when he did his eyes appeared sad if not apologetic. I wasn't sure why he was here, but I guessed for purely defensive purposes.

  "Facial software shows it to be Aiden Stevens within an 83% probability," said the RSA prosecutor, Sally Lincoln. "And the woman involved, Dr. Martha Eberhart, has confirmed his identity."

  I wondered how much they'd paid or otherwise strong-armed Martha into turning against me. Talk about no good deed going unpunished. Jeez. I wished she was sitting across the table right now. I would've loved the chance to stare into her eyes and watch her squirm. But then, maybe she wouldn't have.

  I averted my gaze from the video, which was frozen – mercifully – at the point where I was carrying Martha out of the water.

  "Eighty-three percent probability isn't enough when it comes to a young man's life," said Georgia. "And as a faithful employee of CellEvolve, Dr. Eberhart is simply towing the company line."

  "I'm not sure I'm following you here, Ms. Selby," said the district attorney, Teresa Winston. "CE has not filed a criminal complaint against your client. It's represented here merely as an involved witness. What's its incentive to prejudice the case against Mr. Stevens?"

  "It's clearly a punitive action against my client for not cooperating in CE's attempt to cover up its illegal dissemination of a dangerous and untested drug not certified by the FDA." She gave Max Emanuel a chilly smile. "An event which we will explore at length if this goes to trial."

  I took some pleasure in watching Max struggle not to grimace and in my former attorney's uncomfortable frown. I'd definitely made the right move in calling Georgia. I would never have had the balls to lie straight to these people's faces. I would've pleaded "guilty" in a heartbeat. The evidence against me was undeniable, wasn't it? But Georgia laughed off that notion with "Only an idiot pleads guilty to anything."