Green Dreams

by Gary W Ritter

  They found PCs in most of the offices and in every case the hard drives had been removed. There was one more room they hadn’t investigated. All the others had been opened; this one was locked. The door was solid metal.

  Jason blew out a breath. “Okay.” He braced himself and kicked with a vicious thrust near the handle. Nothing. His head pounded with the effort. He did it again. The door didn’t budge.

  “Hold on,” Lizzy said. “Run your hand along that edge.”

  Lizzy appeared as surprised as Jason, but that couldn’t stop a huge grin from crossing her face as he brought down a key from the top of the doorframe.

  “How did you think of that?” Jason asked.

  “It’s where we kept the key to the bathroom in my family if someone locked themselves in.”

  This room had the appearance of a robotics laboratory, but what they might have been making wasn’t apparent.

  Like the other offices, no paperwork was evident, but their break came when they inspected the last PC. “It still has the hard drive,” Lizzy said. “They missed it.”

  The machine hummed when she hit the switch. This time it also whirred as the platter spun and the system booted.

  ***

  The system held hundreds of blueprints and design schemes that made no sense to either of them. In addition, there were many encrypted files, except for several that weren’t locked.

  “I know this name, and this one!” The printout Lizzy held contained names of people, hundreds of them. They’d searched the computer for context but found none. The names stood alone with no reference as to their origin.

  Jason, because of his interest in the Green movement also recognized many of the names. Lizzy’s confirmation enabled him to know no doubt. There were sinister connections with human trafficking. The list made him feel like he’d eaten turkey stuffing gone bad.

  His knees felt weak. “Sorry,” he said, sitting down and mopping his forehead with his sleeve.

  “What happened?”

  Jason licked his lips. His mouth was dry, his throat raw. As much as he was drawn to her, their relationship was too new, their time together not yet substantial enough to have discussed the hidden aspects of their lives. He told her about his blog. She knew about Marcy, but wasn’t aware of the driving passion that losing his daughter had generated within him. Missing children had captured his imagination. The guilt that fostered it was his shameful secret.

  At the time that Mary Sue had stolen away and taken Marcy, Jason had burdened himself with ill will and recriminations, but he hadn’t acted. He’d fooled himself and pretended that he’d spent hours of every day, days of the ensuing weeks, and weeks of the subsequent years searching, following up leads, running into dead ends. But he hadn’t. It was all an elaborate shell game that he’d run on himself, a self-imposed, false memory that he’d allowed himself to believe. He hadn’t lifted a finger to search for Marcy. Why? Laziness? Apathy? The fact of his inaction stuck in his craw and fostered unending guilt. To his everlasting shame.

  Lizzy could have reviled him. She could have walked away in disgust at his weakness. That she didn’t, that she held him instead when he finished recounting the narrative, said more about her character than any words.

  ***

  Two other documents came to light during their search of the lone computer. One was another list, its data appalling them both once they’d interpreted the significance.

  Like the printout of people’s names, this one didn’t provide a heading or any context, but two different entries told Jason everything. The two lines of the first entry read:

  Smithfield Academy

  Oswego, Illinois

  This was the school he’d discovered through his inquiries with the phone company, which he and his partner Nancy Evans had surreptitiously visited.

  The second entry of note was listed as:

  Brookings Institute of Cultural Learning

  Beech Mountain, North Carolina

  Jason and Lizzy were standing on Beech Mountain. The number of similar entries geographically scattered throughout the United States and around the world was overwhelming—well over a thousand.

  The third enlightening document, which made Jason want to vomit all over again, was a school curriculum tailored to age levels ten through fourteen. Its eclectic subject matter outline included sections on man’s criminal activities responsible for destroying the ozone layer, why capitalism endangered rare species, creating Molotov cocktails, how to stage street protests, creating vaccines that killed rather than immunized, ideas for poisoning GMO crops, how a worldwide plague could be started, and much more.

  The implications staggered them. The people running these two facilities that educated children—no doubt held against their will and without parental knowledge—in the finer arts of hate and extreme environmentalism, were engaged in illegal and subversive activities. And they were doing so in a scope and manner that exceeded comprehension.

  ***

  Reeling at their discoveries, Jason and Lizzy made their way through the grounds of the compound. The rain had stopped and they had to dodge huge puddles that covered shallow depressions in the earth. They reached the closed gate and saw that this time it was locked tight. They scanned the fencing topped with its barbed wire on either side of the gate and realized the futility of following the perimeter to search for a break.

  Lizzy threw up her hands. “Now what?”

  Jason thought for a moment and said, “You remember the maintenance area in the boiler room?”

  She nodded.

  “There were tools hanging from pegboard on the wall. Let’s see if we can find something to cut the chain link.”

  They retraced their steps and returned to the basement. The pegboard on the wall didn’t hold any useful tools, but Lizzy opened a toolbox and immediately exclaimed, “Wire cutters! Perfect.” She raised them in a victory salute and flashed Jason a smile.

  At the fence, Jason attempted to work the cutters through the heavy chains but they were too much for the tool. Plus, he was still weak from their earlier beating. Sweating from the humidity that had settled heavily into the air and from his failed exertions, he said with an exasperated sigh, “Guess we have to go for the barbed wire.”

  Lizzy spotted a tree stump nearby that had been used for splitting wood. “Want to stand on that?”

  “We can try.”

  It was heavy and awkward to roll, but they persevered and managed to position it near the fence. Jason climbed on while Lizzy held the stump steady. He began clipping at the wire with its dangerous burrs. Pieces fell away and he eventually cleared a section large enough for them to pass through.

  Jason gave Lizzy a hand up and over, and she climbed easily down the other side of the fence. He boosted himself to the top and vaulted to the ground beside her, groaning inadvertently from his aches and pains. With a thumbs up, he took her by the hand, and said, “Let’s find the Blazer and get out of here.” He was grateful Lizzy had prevailed to keep the car outside the fence. It would have been a big problem otherwise.

  ***

  “I need to decide something,” Jason said, winding the car back down Beech Mountain with dusk hard upon them. “Rick is up to his eyeballs in this thing. Brother or not, he’s got to go down. The question is when and how?”

  “What will your parents think of this?” Lizzy asked.

  Jason concentrated on a switchback on the slick road before answering. “They’re crooks, but they’re also decent people.”

  “But would they be willing to act against their own son?”

  “I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “You know the Mafia rule of omerta: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil? The code of silence. Same with us. You’re part of the family; you know this as much as anyone; anything inside the family stays inside.”

  “You’re saying that even something as heinous as what Rick’s involved with, the family wouldn’t censure him?” She shook he head. “Maybe I’m not as close t
o the Rugers as I thought.”

  “I didn’t say we wouldn’t disapprove of his actions, or worse. When a family member deserves judgment and punishment, it’s meted out. My parents though, as titular heads of the clan, would have to make a choice: Rick or me.”

  “What’s the choice? Looks pretty clear cut to me. Rick’s a scumbag child abductor who’s hooked up with a bunch of loonies looking to undermine the U.S.”

  Jason laughed, “I like that. You’ve come around from working with and for these guys to calling them subversives.”

  “The hard truth is what it is. If you don’t face it and own up to it, always fooling yourself as to the true motives behind the people you’re in league with, then you deserve anything nasty that comes your way. These groups that claim superior knowledge of the environment because they’re smarter and feel more for the earth, I’ve come to the realization that it’s all rubbish. Worse, there’s this subset of these people who have bad things planned. They’ve been creating cauldrons of hate and inculcating children in their propaganda, children they’ve stolen from their rightful parents. It’s evil and tragic. I just wish I knew what their end game is.”

  “Me, too.”

  They cruised down a sweeping hill past a strip mall and the entrance to the Honey Mountain complex, the car’s headlights illuminating the darkening road. An oncoming vehicle’s brights shone in Jason’s eyes. He flashed back to alert the other driver but the effort was useless. Lost in their own thoughts, Jason and Lizzy remained silent for a time. Finally, Jason said, “Back to your initial question regarding the family and Rick.”

  “Yes?”

  “I said they had a choice to make. But there’s an anomaly we have to overcome. Stuff stays inside the family, right? But the family also has this thing about snitches. Somebody inside tells on somebody else and the teller is vilified as much as the original perpetrator.”

  “You’re saying that if you rat on Rick that they could come down on you as heavily as him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, for…! That’s ridiculous.”

  “There you have it.”

  Lizzy’s exasperation caused her to cradle her head in her hands and rub her eyes. They were red from the effort when she glanced Jason’s way. “What can you—we—do? Rick can’t be left to go his merry way.”

  “Of course not. We’re headed to my parents’ now.”

  ***

  Lights shone inside the house, and the porch light snapped on after Jason rang the bell. His mother answered the door, saying, “Oh my, Jason, what a surprise! And Lizzy, how nice to see you, dear. Come in.”

  Helen Ruger stepped back to allow them entry. To Jason’s critical eye she seemed to have shrunk in upon herself since he’d last seen her at Christmas. Her ramrod straight back was bowed and fatigue drew the lines of her face downward. There were dark splotches on her arms where the skin had bruised and torn like tissue paper. It pained him to see the fragility of age in his beloved parent. He hugged her and said, “Dad around? We all need to talk.”

  She gave him a questioning look, doubtless seeing the bruises that sprouted on his own face, and said, “I’ll get him.” She walked with a slight limp into the kitchen where she called, out back “Henry, Jason’s here.” He loved hearing her voice, and the Southern-ness of it brought back memories of younger days.

  Jason and Lizzy moved into the living room, which was cool and dark, the air conditioner a faint hum in the background. They switched on several lamps for illumination. While they waited, Lizzy fingered a Southern Living magazine that lay on an end table.

  A door slammed and Jason’s father strode into the living room, his mother following more slowly. His thinning, gray hair was plastered to his skull, and he had to wipe away rivulets of sweat. Whatever he’d been doing outside had been hot work. The years seemed not to have diminished his robust physique. He’d always been one of the strongest men Jason had known. With that barrel chest he could hold his breath longer than anyone. His massive forearms dwarfed those of most others. In Jason’s younger days, he’d toss the breathless, screaming, happy child high into the air and catch him like a feather. But the two of them were no longer close, not quite estranged, but on cool terms ever since Jason chose his path with the IRS.

  Henry Ruger nodded at his son and his companion. “Jason. Lizzy.” Then: “Let’s make this quick. I have work to do.”

  “Sure, Dad, but this may not be as quick as you’d like.” Jason gestured for Lizzy to take a seat on the couch while he sat adjacent in an overstuffed chair.

  “What happened to you? Did a train run over you?” No concern from his father—simply a statement of fact.

  Jason brushed the query away with the wave of his hand.

  “What is this about, dear?” Helen Ruger asked as she took the spot beside Lizzy on the couch, her face registering pain as she gingerly lowered herself.

  “Rick,” Jason said.

  Henry Ruger drew in his cheeks, his face souring even more. He pulled a straight-backed chair toward him and twirled it around, sitting backward on it with his arms resting on the wooden crosspiece. The armpits of his shirt were ringed with perspiration. He removed a handkerchief from his rear pocket and wiped his forehead. “You two were always at each other’s throats,” he said.

  “Maybe so, Dad. I know I had good reason.”

  “He stayed loyal to the family.”

  “I’m not here to debate that.”

  “That’s a starting point for any discussion. Anything else is irrelevant.”

  “Henry,” Jason’s mother said, reaching toward her husband with a palsied hand, “why not let Jason have his say?”

  His father snorted. “Sure, give it your best shot. But if you and this other traitor,” he leveled his gaze on Lizzy, “think you can do anything to shake my allegiance to my faithful son, you’re mistaken.”

  Lizzy blinked at the stinging accusation and parted her lips to respond. Jason gestured and said, “Don’t let him get to you.”

  She shook him off. “No. You’re being unfair, Uncle Henry. You don’t even know why we’re here—what we have to say—and you start in on this turncoat garbage. Well, you know what? Your precious little Ricky is up to his eyeballs in excrement that may rain down on you very soon, and when it does, you won’t be able to wipe the stink away. You and this smug family of thieves may find yourselves implicated right along with dear cousin Rick, so maybe you better listen to your son who has a lot more common sense and integrity than the other one.” She finished, breathing hard, her face inflamed with anger.

  Jason’s father crossed his arms and turned up one corner of his mouth. “Rick is loyal. He would never do anything to hurt this family. We’re more secure than we’ve ever been. Nothing is going to come down on us.”

  “Henry, don’t you think you should hear them out?”

  His mother had always been strong, but age was taking its toll on her. His father knew that better than anyone.

  “I’ll handle this, Helen.”

  The back door slammed, and a moment later Rick entered. “Looky here. If it isn’t brother Jason and cousin Lizzy. What a wonderful surprise to see the both of you once more.”

  Jason ignored the dripping sarcasm and said, “Now we can say it to his face.”

  His brother sucked a lot of air out of a room. He took advantage of it by coming up and standing over Jason, his one hand casually clicking the marbles in his pocket. “Yeah, you bring it right into the open. Let’s see what you got.”

  With a quick move, Jason brought his feet up and shoved against Rick’s ample midsection. He stumbled backward, livid.

  Before he could make a move toward Jason, Henry Ruger sprang up and intervened, a restraining hand on his son. “Sit down, Rick. This won’t take long. No sense getting worked up at fairy tales.”

  Breathing hard, Rick glared at Jason. “Right.” He took a seat.

  “Say what you got to say,” Henry said to Jason.

  “Sure,
I’ll make it quick and succinct. Your little, faithful Ricky is involved with child abduction, or to put it more clearly, with human trafficking that involves sexual exploitation of minors.”

  Helen Ruger placed a hand over her mouth.

  A dismissive curse came from Henry. “What a bunch of malarkey. That’s not who we are. That’s not the Rick I know. You want to try with something more believable, Jason?”

  Lizzy leaned forward in her chair. “You’re simply going to dismiss this out of hand, Uncle Henry? You’d better watch out. Rick’s involvement in these things could bring your illicit empire crumbling down.”

  “Is that a threat? I’m not going to hear any more of this scurrilous accusation. Lizzy, I’ve always liked you and considered you someone we could trust. Now…you teaming up with this wayward son of mine is going to make me rethink our relationship. As for you, Jason, this is the final straw. First you go off and get all high and mighty on us by joining with the enemy, then you come and accuse one of ours who’s never given us cause for concern. You think that just because you’re with law enforcement—the IRS Criminal Investigation Division—that you can intimidate me?”

  The power of his father appeared undiminished with age as he paced the floor. “You know what you can do with this…blasphemy…to our family? Shove it! And take it with you because you’re no longer welcome to grace this house with your presence. More than that—as of right now, I formally disown you. You no longer have a part of this family or any inheritance.”

  “Oh, Henry!” Helen Ruger protested. “Don’t be so harsh.”

  “I’ve said it. That’s it.” He pointed toward the door. “Get out.”