by S. R. Booth
She sounded shocked that he would ask. “Of course not! Other than the new hire forms I gave you, I would not be privy to your duties. I will be back momentarily to pick up the forms you completed. Mr. Bryant is waiting for them.” She disconnected with a click.
A knock on his door announced Ms. Sinclair’s arrival. She walked in briskly, high heels clicking, gathered his papers with a brief nod and turned to leave. He could tell that she didn’t really want him to ask her any more questions, but he didn’t know who else to ask.
“Ms. Sinclair?” he queried hesitantly.
She halted on her way to the door and turned back to him. “Yes, sir?”
He picked up some keys from his desk and dangled them from a finger. “Do you think it would be okay if I picked up my wife and took her to see our new house?” he asked, sounding like an eager little boy.
She gave him a confused smile. “Mr. Roth, it is your house, I’m quite sure you may go look at it whenever you wish.” Once again dropping her professional facade, she walked back to him with an inquisitive expression on her face. She leaned a hip against the edge of his desk and crossed her arms over the papers she held in front of her.
“Did they really not tell you anything about your job?” She peered at him quizzically. “I mean, before I started here I had to fill out tons of paperwork, sign contracts, take tests. My job duties and expectations were fully laid out, and so were my benefits.”
She shook her head and smiled again. “I guess you are just much more sought-after than I was. Why is that I wonder? Do you know?”
Billy shook his head, and Ms. Sinclair’s business face slipped back into position. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have asked that. Will that be all?” At his nod she hurried from the office, closing the door without a sound behind her.
Well, she wasn’t exactly the boss, Billy knew, but she seemed to have a good feel for what was going on. If Ms. Sinclair thought he could leave, he was leaving. He gathered the remaining papers and put the keys in one pocket and the remotes in another. He hesitated outside his office door before pulling out a key to lock it. They wouldn’t have given him a key if they didn’t want him to use it, he reasoned.
Eager to take Sarah to see their new house, he hurried down the hall and through the lobby, calling an excited, “Bye, Ms. Sinclair,” over his shoulder as he pushed through the front door and headed towards his truck.
Or where his truck had been that morning. It was gone. He stopped in surprise and looked around confused. He parked in the same area every day. What had happened to his truck?
“Oh, Mr. Roth?” Ms. Sinclair called out in a singsong voice, smiling at him from the open front door. “You seem to be missing something.”
Billy turned and noticed the laughter on her face, and his eyes narrowed in response. “Yeah, my truck! Do you know where it is?”
“No, I don’t know where your truck is exactly, but didn’t you get some new keys today?” she asked knowingly.
“I did.” He fumbled in his pocket for the right keys as he walked towards her. “These,” he said, finally locating the keys with the remote pad. “These are the keys I got today.” He held them out to her. “But, hey! They can’t just get rid of my truck. I mean that’s my truck. Who do they think they are just taking away my truck and replacing it with whatever they want?” he fumed in outrage and confusion as he followed Ms. Sinclair to the parking spot indicated on the key ring.
“VHF - 357,” she read from the key ring and confirmed it was the same license plate in front of them. “This is it, Mr. Roth.” She smiled at him with a teasing twinkle in her eye. “I’m sure if you are unhappy with it, they’ll get your old truck back for you.”
She gave him a wink, thoroughly enjoying his confusion, and handed him his keys before walking back to the building, laughing under her breath. She could tell already that Billy Roth was going to make her days at the office much more interesting.
Billy stood dumbfounded as he stared at the truck in front of him. His dream truck if he’d ever dared to dream that big. Right down to the color he would choose if he picked it out himself. Fire engine red. Mr. Bryant, or someone at Scinegue, must really know a lot about him to know what he liked almost better than he did. He found he was no longer too concerned about his old truck.
And that worried him. But only slightly. The allure of an awesome truck, new house and new job was pretty overwhelming. He wouldn’t be bought, though, he reassured himself as he ran a hand over the side of the truck. They couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t agree with.
He unlocked the door and got in slowly, checking out every knob and button and discovered several gauges that he wasn’t familiar with. It looked like Scinegue had done some modifications. He couldn’t wait to find out what everything did. He sat back with his eyes closed to inhale the new car smell. His eyes flew open. There wasn’t a new car smell!
He jumped out of the truck and walked around it. It appeared to be new. Not that it mattered if it was used, he told himself. The tires were barely dirty, and it was a new model truck. There weren’t any dings or scratches on the exterior.
He got back in and inhaled deeply. Nope. No new smell. Puzzled, but far from concerned, he started the truck, thankful it seemed to operate like a normal vehicle even with the modifications, and drove towards home.
Sarah was going to be so surprised by everything that had happened today, he thought. Then he took a deep breath as he remembered how much explaining he would have to do to make her see things as he did. He hoped she would be open to the possibility that they had been jumping to absurd conclusions about this poor company based on the limited information they had been given.
But what about Bob? The unwelcome question wormed its way in as he thought about the Scinegue employee going through so much trouble to get a message to him. And Ben and Jerald. His guilty conscience reminded him of his coworkers who had both disappeared.
There must be a simple answer, he told himself resolutely. Bob could have just cracked. Maybe he had been putting in too many hours at the office and had imagined some giant conspiracy going on. Jerald he couldn’t explain as easily; he’d spent some time trying to track him down and hadn’t turned up a trace. Billy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Jerald was young. Could he have just taken off for a change of pace? Ben though, he hadn’t even tried to go see him, he realized with a twinge of guilt.
Well, he could do that right now. Go see Ben. Find out what had happened at work. Then, when he talked to Sarah, he would at least be able to put her mind at ease about some of this strange stuff.
He pulled off the road into a parking lot and grabbed his cell phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Ben’s information and started to punch an address into the truck’s GPS before thinking better of it.
He was sure everything was just a misunderstanding, but he had mistrusted Scinegue long enough to be leery of leaving a trail for anyone who might check his GPS. Not that they couldn’t just have a tracking device on the vehicle itself, he thought, or on him.
“Stop it!” He ordered himself, pounding the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. He’d circled right back where he started with all the covert spy stuff. Scinegue was just an ordinary company.
And if there was still a niggling doubt in his mind he was determined to find a way to put it to rest.
Driving through a cozy older neighborhood, not much different from his own, Billy pulled up in front of a small house that sported a fresh coat of white paint. The yard was tidy and well maintained and the windows sparkled. It was just like Ben to keep everything in tiptop condition, Billy thought. He took a deep, fortifying breath, hopped out of his pickup and went to knock on the front door. He wondered what he should say and reminded himself that no matter what he said, it would probably sound crazy.
The door opened a crack so quietly that Billy didn’t even notice until a small voice asked what he wanted.
“Oh! Excuse me. I didn’t know you were there
.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rubbed a sweaty palm against his thigh. “I’m Billy Roth. I used to work with Ben. Um, Ben...”
“Richardson,” the small voice finished his sentence flatly.
Billy strained to see who was speaking but could barely distinguish an eye in the dim light.
“Ben Richardson, from Scinegue, right?” With no answer forthcoming, he hurried on. “I haven’t seen him at work for a couple of days and just wanted to check on him. Is he here?”
Billy waited for an answer, unsure if it would come.
“No,” the voice finally answered as the door was pushed closed firmly. The sound of the lock engaging left Billy standing on the porch dumbfounded. Should he just leave?
Knocking again he called, “Hello? I need to ask you a question about Ben. Will you open the door, please?”
The door swung open, and a small hand grabbed his arm, pulling him into the dim house.
“What’s the matter with you out there yelling his name like that?” the voice scolded. “You want them to think I’ve been talking?”
Billy made out the outline of an agitated, petite older woman in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. “Ma’am, I’m sorry.” His brow wrinkled. “I’m not trying to cause any problems. I just wanted to check on Ben. I thought he might be sick or something.” He ad-libbed, thinking it sounded better than, ‘I was wondering if Ben was fired, or maybe even killed’.
“Who are you again?”
“I’m Billy Roth. I worked with Ben. Did he ever mention me?”
“You’re the one who dumped trash all over the street.” Her voice rose. “You’re the one who started all of this!” she accused.
“Started what?” Billy spread his arms out in question. “I did spill some garbage, and Ben helped me clean it up. It was just an accident. I got reprimanded and I thought Ben might have also, but I haven’t seen him since.”
A little boy with dark hair and the flat facial profile common in Down Syndrome walked into the entryway and wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs. “Mama?” he asked, staring at Billy. “Susan won’t let me help dry dishes. She says I break too many. Can I help her, Mama? I won’t break any.” The woman’s face softened and she knelt down beside him.
“Yes, you may help dry. Tell Susan I said it’s all right and that I will be back in just a minute. I just need to finish speaking with this man who used to work with Daddy.”
The boy’s face instantly brightened. “Are you bringing my daddy home?” he asked.
Billy shook his head no, and the woman told her son to return to the kitchen.
“Our little mid-life gift,” she told Billy as she watched her son’s retreating form with a loving smile softening her anxious features.
“Is Ben your husband?” Billy asked getting to the point of his visit. The woman nodded. “Do you know where he is?”
“Are you still working on the garbage route?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“I was until today. I was offered an office job and hadn’t accepted, but today I found myself with a new job in the most incredible office I’ve ever seen!”
“Young man,” she whispered earnestly, “you need to get out of there. Something bad is happening in that company. Things have changed over the years. Move. Move now! Somewhere far away,” she hissed in a loud whisper.
“They’ll track you down sooner or later,” she lamented. “That’s what Ben said. That’s why we didn’t move. He said they would just find us anyway. Their resources are almost unlimited. But you could still try to get away.”
“Ma’am,” Billy replied in a soothing voice, “I’m not sure what you are talking about. Is Ben here?”
“They took him.” She blinked hard, bravely fighting back tears. “He knew they would come when he turned down the job they offered him. I tried to get him to leave, just pack his bags and disappear, but he wanted to stay with us as long as possible.”
“They killed him?” Billy asked in surprise.
“Of course not!” the woman snapped with a tilt of her head, looking confused. “They took him to reprogramming.”
“What’s that?”
Looking over her shoulder at the sound of rising voices coming from the back of the house, she answered him rapidly. “They didn’t kill him. At least not his body. He knows what they are trying to do, and he wouldn’t go along with it,” her voice held a combination of pride and frustration.
“Now they’re ‘giving him another chance’ by trying to ‘reprogram’ his way of thinking. If they think they are successful, he’ll come back to us and go back to work at Scinegue, doing whatever it is they wanted him to do in the first place.”
“And if they don’t think they’re successful?”
She bit her upper lip. “They will. Ben is smart. He’ll make sure to do what they want. He won’t leave us here alone.” A hand flew up to cover her mouth and a look of fear filled her eyes.
“You work for them! I’m so stupid! I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, please just leave, and don’t tell anyone what I said. Ben is alive because they need him. But they don’t need me and the kids. They actually wish we didn’t exist, at least not with Ben.” She started gently pushing Billy toward the door. “Please leave, and don’t come back. They are always watching.”
Billy let himself be pushed out the door, then he grabbed the petite woman’s arm and pulled her outside and away from the house with him. He leaned his head next to her ear and whispered urgently, “Do you know if your house is bugged?”
“It’s not. Well, it is,” she clarified, “but Ben knows some people who were able to put up blockers for us that keep the bugs from transmitting. I have to get back inside.” She glanced back at the house.
“Please don’t come back.” She gave him a remorseful look and a pat on the cheek, then glanced around cautiously. “You’ll only cause problems for us, and I can’t help you.” One more sorrowful look and she hurried back into the house.
Billy longed to ask more questions. She knew a lot more than he did, but he heeded her warning and climbed back into his truck and left, hoping no one had noticed him being there.
He drove around the neighborhood, not in quite as big a rush to get to Sarah as he had been before. His mind was ping-ponging between thoughts.
Bob sending him a coded message to meet him privately. His huge new office. Jerald, gone from the face of the earth, as far as he could tell. Three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars a year. Ben’s frightened wife. His own wife in a gorgeous mansion.
He knew the money and perks of his new position were making him want to believe that Scinegue was okay. At the same time, he didn’t have one shred of hard evidence linking Scinegue to anything really wrong.
Or was that just greed talking? he wondered, trying to keep himself grounded. Reprogramming didn’t sound right, but maybe it was simply a self-help program like what Mr. Bryant said the company offered to help employees reach their full potential. Billy could imagine Mr. Bryant thinking that seven years as a trash collector was a type of ‘just plodding along’, especially when Ben turned down whatever job advancement he was offered.
Ben probably hadn’t wanted to go to a self-help program, Billy pictured the scenario as he drove, but was given the choice of going or losing his job. Ben would have been furious at being basically forced to go and in his anger he could have made the whole program sound a lot worse to his wife than it really was.
There was nothing wrong with the company encouraging people to become the best they could be. Was there?
Sarah came rushing out of the house as soon as Billy stepped out of the truck. She was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans with her feet bare and her recently polished toenails sported a shimmering crimson color. “I was so scared when that strange truck pulled into our driveway! What are you doing driving it? Where’s your truck?”
Billy couldn’t stop the smile that spread acro
ss his face as she eyed the new truck. “If you slow your questions down just a little bit, I might be able to answer at least one.”
Filled with relief at the sight of Billy, she laughed brightly. “O.K.” she teased. “Where. Is. Your. Truck?”
“Ha-ha. That’s a little too slow, but to answer your question, this is my truck. Our truck.” He slung an arm around her shoulder, unable to contain the excitement in his voice.
“What. Do. You. Mean?”
“Knock it off, silly. I mean that I have a new truck, a new office, a new house, and I’m getting a new wardrobe.”
Sarah cocked her head, her brow furrowing and all joking forgotten as her stomach clenched with nerves. “What?”
“That job they offered me,” he explained grabbing both of her hands. “I went to work this morning, and the job was already mine.”
“You never accepted it, did you?” she asked, concern deepening her voice.
“No, of course not. You know I wasn’t going to divorce you for a job. There was a note with my paperwork saying they’d reconsidered and my marriage is no longer an issue.” He held her look with an eager smile.
“Sarah, you should see my office. And our new home!” He continued, digging in his pocket for the right key. “That’s why I came home early. I wanted us to go see our new house together!”
Sarah led him a little farther away from the house, and looked up and down the street. She didn’t see anyone watching them. “Billy, you aren’t seriously thinking about moving into their house and driving their vehicle?” she asked quietly, motioning to the shiny new truck. “These people have something strange going on, and the more you take from them, the more they own you.”
Frustrated by her words, but knowing there was truth in them, Billy jammed both hands in his pockets and tried to respond calmly. “Sarah, I know. I really know what you are saying is right. I keep thinking there has to be some way for us to take these things without being required to go along with anything we don’t agree with. You know,” he reasoned, “Bob and the Browns think it’s important for me to get inside the company. If I turn down this job I probably won’t be offered another one. They already filled my old position, so I doubt I would be able to work for Scinegue at all.”
