The Pain Colony

by Shanon Hunt

  How do you like them apples?

  “Oh, but there’s more. My boss, who I was sleeping with, seems to have created a genetic drug that’s killed a whole bunch of people. And he’s involved me in that, too.” She clapped her hands excitedly.

  He gaped at her.

  “So tomorrow, I’ll look for an attorney that I can’t afford, and then I’ll drive to the office of the FBI to give them a statement. They’ll likely arrest me. I won’t have any money to post bail, so I’ll begin my stay in the county jail while the attorney I can’t afford decides it’s too much trouble to get to the bottom of this conspiracy and I end up getting lost in the system and spending the rest of my life in an orange jumpsuit.”

  She opened her purse, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and dropped it on the counter. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home so I can get one last good night of sleep.”

  She was already across the street when he caught up to her. She kept moving.

  “At least let me walk you home,” he said. “My momma’d tan my dad-gum hide if she learned I let a honey walk home all by herself from the saloon, boy howdy.”

  It wasn’t even dark yet. She clutched her bag against her side and picked up her pace.

  “Listen, I don’t know anything about this stuff, but my brother’s an attorney,” he said quietly. “A litigator back at home. I can call him and you can talk to him. Maybe he’d have some advice. One thing I know for sure is that you shouldn’t talk to the police without an attorney present, and it’s going to be hard to find one this late at night.”

  She sighed. He actually seemed like he cared. She so badly needed a friend.

  “Let’s just call him,” he continued. “Maybe he knows a good attorney here. He’s really connected in the legal community.”

  She knew she needed good legal advice. She wasn’t usually superstitious, but maybe meeting this guy at just this time was more than a coincidence. Maybe it was serendipity.

  She stopped walking and finally looked him in the eyes. “Okay. That would be really kind. Thank you.”

  Chapter 59

  The sky was just beginning to darken when Wang pulled onto a side street and parked in a No Parking zone. From this spot, Allison Stevens’s apartment and the parking lot in front of her house were in his direct line of sight, and he had some shade from an overhanging oak tree. He ignored the sign. He didn’t plan to get out of his truck just yet anyway.

  He pulled out his binoculars and scanned the parking lot until he found the license plate number he’d written down. Yep, that was it, the white Camry. He aimed the glasses at her apartment window. The curtains were open, but the apartment was dark. Maybe she was already asleep.

  With a sigh, he laid the binoculars on the seat beside him and reviewed his current dilemma. He’d successfully dodged Garcia’s calls all day. Once he’d convinced the branch manager at Delbarton Bank to release the name on the account, his memory had brought up not one but two coincidental interactions. Here you go, Allison, he’d said just minutes before. The woman’s look of fear at the mention of her name had compelled him to point out her business card on her phone. Still, the way she scurried out of the bank and ran to her car was peculiar, and now he knew why. She’d known he was looking for her. And what was she doing at the bank, anyway? Closing that account, perhaps? Trying to destroy the evidence that she had paid Karen Richmond to take an illegal drug?

  The other interaction had occurred weeks ago. He’d spoken with her as the acting CEO of Quandary Therapeutics during his initial cold-calling of biotech companies. She hadn’t finished answering his questions before she’d ended the call abruptly—hung up on him, in fact. He’d found it nothing more than insulting at the time, but now he saw it a bit differently. Now he knew all about her fugitive boss, Austin Harris.

  All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

  He would call Agent Malloy first thing tomorrow, but he wanted to question the girl himself before he turned her over to the Phoenix office. If they spooked her, she might try to make a run for it, probably join up with Harris and they’d be too far away to stop her. Plus, Wang had a knack for reading people’s faces. He’d know right away if she was lying.

  Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see two figures climbing the stairs to the upper floors. He held up his binoculars just in time to see one of the figures turn and run back down the stairs.

  Chapter 60

  “Uh, there’s a guy in the parking lot staring at us,” Luke said as they took the stairs to Allison’s apartment on the third floor. “He looks like a cop.”

  She looked in the same direction, then smiled ironically at Luke. “Yep, that’s Special Agent Gary Gadorski, FBI. He’s been following me for days. I think he’s trying to scare me into a confession or waiting for me to screw up. He’s probably bugged my apartment.”

  “Are you fucking kidding?” He stopped midstride. “You know he can’t profile you at your home like this, right? He can follow you in public, but he can’t harass you at home.”

  “Well, it’s too late to care about that now. I’m going to give him a statement tomorrow, anyway. In fact, let me just go—”

  To her horror, Luke was pounding back down the stairs, two at time. He reached the bottom and strode purposefully toward the parking lot. She began descending.

  Luke shouted. “Hey! Hey, asshole! What are you doing here? Are you stalking my friend?”

  He barreled straight over to Gadorski, who was leaning against his car. Gadorski straightened and took several steps toward Luke, not ceding any ground.

  “Back the fuck up!” Gadorski yelled, as he reached around his back for his firearm.

  “Luke!” she called. Jesus, this guy was going to get shot.

  Luke stopped ten feet in front of Gadorski. “This is police harassment. My brother is a prominent attorney, and he’d be happy to help Allison out with this abuse of authority.” He pulled out his phone, and Allison thought he was going to call his brother, but instead he snapped several pictures of Gadorski standing by his car. “Unless you’re planning to arrest her, you can’t have her under constant surveillance like this and invade her privacy. We’re calling my brother. What is your full name and badge number?”

  Gadorski sneered in his usual way. “Are you done with your speech, little fella?”

  Luke stood firm as Allison caught up to him.

  “I’m sure Ms. Stevens told you that the FBI has reason to believe she’s been involved in a crime,” Gadorski said. “So while you’re talking to your brother, perhaps you should have him explain to you the difference between police work and police harassment. And while you’re at it, ask him what the penalties are for conspiracy. If you plan to spend time with Ms. Stevens, you might want to get familiar with the process.”

  Luke leaned in with his cell phone as though he was capturing every word.

  “Ms. Stevens, I’m happy to see that you’re moving on from Austin Harris,” Gadorski said, “but rest assured, you’re still under investigation. You’ll be on my radar until this is case is closed to our satisfaction.”

  He opened his car door. “You two have a nice night now.”

  He got into the car and drove away.

  Chapter 61

  Wang looked down at his phone, his hands shaking, hoping he’d captured at least one good image. He’d observed the entire scene in the parking lot from his binoculars while simultaneously trying to aim his phone for an image of Gadorski in conversation with Stevens and her friend.

  It was entirely unexpected. He’d only been hoping to speak to Allison Stevens, but now he’d hit the jackpot. Allison Stevens and Agent Gary Gadorski. This could be the linchpin he’d been waiting for, the evidence that proved what he knew to be true, that the corrupt FBI had shut down the LXR case to protect Austin Harris and that Allison Stevens was colluding with the FBI.

  If it had been anyone else at the bureau, Wang might have second-guessed the purpose of this meeting. But Gadorski
was practically a celebrity with his long record of abuses of authority, complaints from suspects he’d harassed, and complaints of racial slurs and verbal abuse even within the department. Gadorski had been investigated by Internal Affairs and suspended several times. Yet somehow, he’d managed not only to keep his job but to get promoted. Gadorski was as dirty as a Porta-John at a carnival.

  It was time to contact Malloy. The call went straight to voicemail. He hung up. This complicated string of events couldn’t be left in a message.

  He looked back over at the now quiet parking lot. How had he missed Gadorski’s arrival? If he’d noticed, he would have moved in closer, maybe overheard some of the conversation. Damn it. He chewed his lip and flipped through the blurry photos on his phone. Not great, but a couple were clear enough to identify Allison Stevens and Gary Gadorski together.

  A loud knock on his window caused him to drop his phone on the seat. God, all this excitement had made him skittish. A tall, well-dressed young man was smiling down at him apologetically, pointing at his cell phone screen and turning it toward Wang to reveal a mapping application and a blinking GPS location symbol.

  Wang rolled down his window.

  “Can I help you?” He knew he sounded irritated, but he didn’t even live in this area. He wasn’t going to be any help.

  He leaned out just a bit to squint at the man’s phone in his left hand, but from his peripheral vision, he caught swift, sweeping movement from the man’s right hand. He didn’t even have time to draw a breath before a six-inch blade buried into his throat.

  He felt no pain, just a detached feeling that something was very wrong with his neck. His chest, which was covered in sweat just seconds ago was already cooling, numbing, and he felt a growing sense of disconnection from his body.

  If only he were in better shape, maybe he could’ve responded faster, defended himself better.

  He was vaguely aware of the man reaching over him into the car for something. For what?

  He didn’t pray for God to save him. Instead, he promised himself that when he recovered from this, he was going to lose the weight. This year, for sure. He’d tell Lin no more desserts, and he’d go to the gym every day. His mind drifted to his daughter’s wedding next year. How thin he would be—how proud he would make her—as he walked her down the aisle.

  Then his vision darkened, and he knew he would never see her wedding day, fat or thin.

  Chapter 62

  Allison returned from the bathroom as Luke brought two glasses from the kitchen. Her nerves were shot after the confrontation out in the parking lot, but it had been gratifying to see someone stand up to that bully. She hated Gadorski. Yes, she was going to talk to the FBI, but she refused to give her statement to him.

  Luke handed her a glass. “Matty’s just leaving the office. He said he’ll call me back in five from his car.”

  “Okay.” She wanted to say no to the vodka but instead found herself taking a long drink from the glass. Her whole body relaxed. Maybe she had more of an alcohol problem than she wanted to admit.

  Luke looked ashamed. “I’m really sorry for the scene out there. It’s just that I hate to see cops abusing their power, you know? Civilians have rights in this country, and I don’t think people really know that. Has that asshole tried to interview you?”

  “Couple times.” She said, feeling more indignant than before. “He came into my workplace and everything.”

  “Did you tell him anything?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I told him I wanted a lawyer.”

  “That’s good.” He nodded.

  She pulled her legs underneath herself and leaned back on the cushion. She felt comfortable with Luke. It felt good to have a friend, someone on her side. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “What does one do in the boondocks of South Carolina?”

  He answered with that adorable accent. “Keep to m’self most o’ the time. Spend my days down at my daddy’s catfish pond settin’ trot lines with my brothers.”

  She put her glass down and lay on her arm for a pillow with a smile. “Tell me more.” She felt drained and slightly light-headed from all the excitement. She didn’t feel like talking.

  “Well, I kin tell you how to get from Sassafras Mountain to Hell Hole Bay without never seeing no police officer. And one time, when I’s about, I dunno, six or seven, I swiped ten bucks from my momma’s purse, and me and my brothers hitched all the way to Greenville.”

  She felt him get up from the sofa, and she took the opportunity to wriggle down flat.

  Then Luke switched off the accent and said, “Come now. She’s ready.”

  Chapter 63

  Layla glanced down at her stats as the treadmill belt zoomed by underneath her feet. Her legs felt like they were on fire, as did her lungs, and she relished it—the comfort of pain she hadn’t enjoyed since her last devotion.

  “Thank you, Father,” she said, gasping for air between each word.

  Heart rate 183. Miles per hour 8.2.

  Don’t you quit on me, Butch.

  “I won’t, Daddy.”

  She stretched her neck to each side. Running felt natural. Her long stride, the way her feet struck the belt mid-sole—she knew she had the correct form. Her arms were slightly bent as they swung at her sides, her hands were loose. Her breathing was fast but in cadence with each footfall.

  It felt too good. She wasn’t pushing hard enough. She turned up the speed to 9.0 miles per hour, and a wave of nausea swept over her as her heart rate accelerated to 197 beats per minute.

  Dimitri was by her side in seconds, pressing the speed back to 8.0.

  “No, Layla. That is no good for you, yes? You know it. The heart.” He put his hand on his chest and furrowed his brow, shaking his head reproachfully.

  She scowled back and returned to her pace, trying to get back into her zone. She tuned out the rest of the room, now filled with trainees. She ticked her pace to 8.5 miles per hour. Another wave of nausea came and went as her pulse crept upward.

  Her heart rate stabilized at 185, and Dimitri walked by and gave her a warning look. As soon as he rounded the corner, she ticked it up again to 8.7 miles per hour. Her head cleared as she stared, with laser focus, at a single rivet in the steel wall in front of her.

  ***

  I stand at a lectern, looking out over a huge crowd. All their eyes are on me, waiting expectantly—impatiently, really—for me to say something. I search the audience, scanning rows of faces, but I don’t see him. He’s not here. He didn’t come.

  My eyes blur with tears of disappointment as I look down at my note card. He promised to be here.

  “Go on, honey,” Principal Whelan urges.

  But I can’t remember what I was going to say, and the words on my card are blurry.

  I look up again at the waiting audience. Moms, dads, and kids fan themselves with the folded single-sheet program of the evening’s awards. Two babies are crying. Everyone’s bored, and I know my delay is just keeping them from the cookies and juice outside the auditorium.

  A voice booms from the side of the stage. “What’s wrong, little girl? Are you too timid to speak?”

  I whip my head around. Dad’s rolling in from the emergency exit door, a large bouquet of flowers on his lap and mom behind him, smiling broadly. Relief washes over me.

  “Girls aren’t good enough to be on a stage,” he yells. “They belong in the kitchen!”

  The audience gasps. What kind of a parent would say such a thing? But I know what he’s doing. That’s just the kind of thing my dad does. Aha! Triggered ya! he’d say.

  I glance down at my note card one last time, but I don’t need it. I’ve read it so many times I’ll have it memorized forever. I clear my throat and stand up as tall as I can.

  “I’d like to thank Principal Whelan for the President’s Top Fitness Award for District 129. And I want all girls out there to know that we are not inferior to boys, physically or mentally. We are not weaklings! We can
do anything that they can do, and sometimes we can do it better. My dad taught me that with determination, anything is possible, even with a physical limitation.”

  I raise my skinny arms and make fists to flex my tiny biceps, then turn to my dad. One, two, three, I mouth.

  On cue, he yells out in unison with me, “How do you like them apples?”

  The audience erupts with laughter and applause, but I really only hear the whooping of my dad as I self-consciously run off the stage toward him.

  “Girl power!” he yells.

  “Wait! Your trophy!” Principal Whelan calls after me.

  ***

  Something whacked her hard on the back of the head, and her eyes snapped open. Stabbing pain shot through her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Layla, are you okay? Oh my god, Layla!”

  Voices sounded far away, echoing like they were coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

  A male voice thundered above her. “Back up, back up. Give me some room.”

  She started to doze, and then felt herself being lifted onto a stretcher. She tried to cover her ears to stop the piercing ringing, but her arms didn’t move. The ringing began to fade as she was wheeled away, and then she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 64

  Allison stirred from the dead. Or at least that’s what it felt like as she opened her eyes after what seemed like a long, dreamless nap. The hammering between her temples was unbearable, and she moaned and closed her eyes again, willing herself back to sleep. She turned, then realized she wasn’t in her own bed. She wasn’t in a bed at all. She was in the back seat of a truck.

  “Hello?” she croaked.

  “Ms. Stevens, there’s some water and Advil in the cooler on the floor. Take that, and your head will start to feel much better.”