Southern Ouroboros

by Matt Kilby

  He went back to her side and opened the case, running his hand over his first success for the Orion Corporation. He pulled the half-depleted vial from the foam, his other hand searching out the syringe next to her arm. He injected her with the sedative, taking time to raise a vein. That would buy him eight hours. Another full vial would put her out a day. With Robert gone, he had no further use for the drug so put it all into her, hoping it’d kill her well before the fire got its chance. It would be a mercy, though he knew better than to call himself an angel. He just wanted it over to focus on whatever came next. Watching her journey toward death, he couldn’t help thinking of Angela. He might have a chance with her now, though he still had to find the nerve to ask her out. When the day came, he could take her to dinner and bring her to his house without wondering if his brother would stare with those depraved thoughts inching him out of control. He wouldn’t worry if she heard a girl screaming from the backyard shed. He could strive for normal and come closer than he had before. With a hopeful smile, he watched Suzanne’s breath grow shallow until he could hardly tell she was alive. To be sure, he emptied the last vial into her arm before he put her into the trunk of his car.

  He dragged her out the way he dragged her in, down the hall and out the front door. By the time he finished, the morning sun lightened the sky to gray as a field of unbroken white stretched from his dirt driveway. If he didn’t commit the spot to memory, he wouldn’t know where Robert’s body was lying preserved by snow. He could forget him until the melting started, after the next phase of his life began. Instead, he stared at the powdered mound and gave him a silent moment before getting into his car.

  On the way into Creek Hollow, he thought of the infinite ways everything could go wrong. The local police were out in force, and though it couldn’t have anything to do with him, he squeezed his steering wheel as he passed each cruiser. Beyond them, Orion was another story. He drove through the first gate into the woods, but the entry road led to a security checkpoint and a familiar hardass leaning out to stop him. It was the same guard who’d given him trouble about his security pass, though they saw each other often enough to be considered acquaintances. Their last encounter fresh in his memory, Ben couldn’t do anything but cringe at the sight of him. He remembered standing outside like a criminal while the asshole searched his car, never hinting at what he expected to find. Any other day, Ben would have shrugged off the minor annoyance and gotten on with his life, but today he had a girl in his trunk. If he needed to, he would make a stand, swallowing at the preparation and on his way to hyperventilation when the guard twirled his finger to tell him to keep driving. He didn’t even look at him, but Ben didn’t argue. He chalked it up to something strange and unknowable far above him and drove to the back of the lot where he disposed of too many girls before. As he cut off the engine, he promised Suzanne would be the last.

  He walked to the building the same as the other times, eyes ahead with the certainty a single glance at the cameras would tell the people on the other end he thought of them. They would think too, which would firm their focus on what he was up to. At that point, he might as well take Suzanne out and waltz her across the lot. So he ignored them like the good boy he had always been and went into the hallway, showing his badge to the guard by the elevators. Ben only saw one other person in the time it took to borrow an empty burn box and zip ties to mark it as hazardous material—the same sleepy-eyed moron he met his first time downstairs. He spray painted white numbers on the containers in line for destruction, his only acknowledgment a nod before he turned back to his work. Ben offered a genuine smile and waved back, but why wouldn’t he? He was almost free.

  He slid a dolly under the container and rolled it to the elevator, riding up to ground level. At the door, he tracked the cameras as he pretended to check his phone, waiting for the two that mattered to synch: one rotating right and the other left. Neither would pass his car for two and a half minutes—an eternity to someone dedicated to the value of every second. He pushed open the door and pulled the dolly behind him, more sure of himself in that moment than any at the job they paid him to do. He hummed as he reached the car and opened the trunk and container lid, hauling Suzanne’s limp form into the box with a single strained heave. He slammed the lid and secured the ties before starting back. His mental count ticked steady until he was through, the cameras swinging their lenses past his car. He wanted to vent his pent-up doubt in a single victory shout but held his restraint a little longer when he found Buck Davis at the elevator with the guard, scrolling through emails on his phone.

  Ben froze as if standing still might avoid the pending disaster, so deep into the rhythm, he thought he was protected. Untouchable. Then Buck glanced over and rolled his eyes. He looked at his phone, pretending he didn’t notice the head scientist of his division pretending to be a statue. With an audible sigh, he spoke.

  “You might as well wheel that thing up here,” Buck told him. “Waiting for the next one will only waste more time.”

  The elevator dinged open and Buck got in, holding the door though Ben had neither spoken nor moved forward. Staring at him, Ben pushed Suzanne’s coffin forward and inside.

  As the doors closed, Buck brought his fingers up to massage the bridge of his nose. Ben tried to decide what to say but knew however he started, they would end at the question of what was in the container.

  “Jesus, Ben,” he pulled the emergency stop. Instead of any alarm, a brief chirp came from the panel. “For a genius, you’re a dumb son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “You’re surrounded by the most sophisticated technology in the world. Hell, this elevator is more advanced than the scrap they landed on the moon. You really think the parking lot surveillance comes down to a couple security cameras?”

  So Buck knew what was inside the box and probably what he planned to do with it. That didn’t have to be a disaster. After all, the container had plenty of room for another body, though it wasn’t easy with an unconscious girl on his table and a knife in his hand. A guy who took his lunch breaks at the company gym would put up a better fight, and the best weapon Ben came up with was the ballpoint pen in his pocket. Without other options, he prepared to give it his best go when something occurred to him that crushed any dream of getting away. Buck wouldn’t watch the cameras himself. That would be left to the security office. Unless he put that pen into his own neck, he was on his way to prison for the rest of his life, even if he told them Robert did everything. Even if it was the truth.

  “Look at you,” Buck shook his head. “You can’t decide whether to sweat or piss yourself. I don’t blame you. If I had some girl in a plastic crate and high-def footage of me pulling her out of my trunk, my thoughts would be down those same lines. I might even do something stupid, like run. You understand that would be the worst thing right now, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t kill her,” Ben blurted.

  “No?” Buck raised an eyebrow. “Lost your nerve this time, huh?”

  “I didn’t hurt any of them,” he said and offered a pleading look as if he might understand. “My brother couldn’t control himself, so I had to clean up his mess. He was simple. I had to protect him. Wait. You know about the others?”

  “You said he was simple,” Buck said with a thoughtful nod. “Does that mean he’s not a problem anymore?”

  “How long did you know?”

  “Again,” Buck said and flashed his board meeting smile, “you work for a company that can find your heat signature in a sauna. We knew the moment you borrowed the first box downstairs. What, three months after you started? Maybe we should be insulted you think we’re that stupid. Maybe we should call the police.”

  “Please,” Ben grabbed Buck’s elbow, ready to fall on his knees if necessary. His boss looked at him with disgust before shaking his arm away and smoothing his sleeve.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” he said. “I’m fucking with you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ben said, d
esperation making him nauseous.

  “I know,” Buck nodded. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t either, but I like my job and orders are orders. Given enough thought and alcohol to marinate in, I never had trouble accepting the stuff we do here has killed people. No doubt plenty of that blood was innocent, so stacked against the work you were hired to do, what do a few dead girls matter? Understand now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ben shook his head.

  “It’s okay,” Buck said, his voice sympathetic. “You don’t need to. I’m here for perspective while you worry about the details. Just like our project, which the powers that be want finished. That’s why they’re turning a blind eye from your extracurricular activities. Now, is your brother dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Condolences,” Buck said. “So that makes this one the last, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have your word?”

  Ben nodded.

  “Good,” Buck pressed the emergency button again. As its light went out, the elevator lurched upward. “You still owe me a design for this—”

  “Olympus,” Ben finished his sentence.

  “Olympus,” he smiled again as the elevator opened outside their lab. “You have until the end of today, and that deadline comes from the people who are saving your ass. I don’t recommend disappointing them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben said with his head down in a way that made him ashamed. As much as he owed Buck and Orion for understanding his value despite his issues, he didn’t like to be cowed to their mercy. With that kind of leverage, he was no better than a slave, but it beat a prison cell and the torture he could expect from inmates twice his size, becoming like the girls he allowed Robert to abuse. Here, he could work and go home. Maybe if he asked nice enough, his new masters would help him figure out what to do with his brother’s body. In the meantime, he spied Angela through the window, focused on something, and was glad for her distraction. Otherwise, she might come find out why he looked so helpless and what he took to be destroyed, his work also hers.

  “Good boy,” Buck stepped out. “See to the girl and get back to work.”

  He reached in to push the button for the basement and walked away whistling some song Ben couldn’t decipher. Alone, he breathed heavy and leaned over the fire-bound container, elbows on top to rest his face in his hands. All the time and stress he wasted sneaking those girls downstairs had been for nothing, and he still didn’t know why. Why didn’t they save him the trouble? To keep their hands clean or find out what he would do under pressure? Enough lingered in the elevator to crush coal into diamonds, even with the company’s blessing to cremate one last girl with their equipment. A shiver ran through his back and built until his whole body trembled, his elbow bouncing so hard against the case he wondered if he was having a seizure. When the elevator stopped and opened its doors on the line of cases waiting for destruction, he stifled it to a nervous twitch. The technician came with a smile Ben read as conspiratorial, as if he knew all his dark secrets and was as ready as the others to wink them away.

  “They called and said you were coming,” he said as he took the case. “I’ll put this in the next burn.”

  Ben wondered how much the man knew or how much he guessed. He considered asking but thought the question might sit better than its answer. Instead, he asked a different one.

  “Who called you?” he asked, guessing the answer would be Buck Davis.

  “Someone above my pay grade,” he said. “By the sound of his voice, I’d bet military and with a clearance level that says he’s been around a while. Whoever it is, he knows who you are. I can’t decide if I’m jealous or glad not to be you. With that kind of attention, you either make it big or find yourself in one of these boxes.”

  Ben’s eyes flared as he stared at him, the man’s face breaking a slow smile when he couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “I’m messing with you, man,” he cackled as he wheeled Suzanne away, leaving Ben to stare. “You should see the look on your face.”

  Ben waited until he pushed the container into the abandoned lab where the last of Robert’s trouble would be erased from the world. As soon as it was out of sight, the weight that lingered in his shoulders since the day he found the first girl evaporated. He didn’t quite click his heels together but managed a soft smile as he got back into the elevator. Inside his office and behind his desk, he felt even lighter as he pulled up his latest specs for the Olympus and found a blank sheet of paper. As he sketched, he understood his relief. For the first time in years, he was free to work on his project, which would change the world. Without Robert holding him back, he could. His pencil moved to form the outline of the object of so many waking dreams: a solid black rectangle the size of a brick. When Angela knocked on his door, he barely looked up, though this time nerves didn’t keep his eyes low. He felt feverish, as if drawing the thing made it real. When he finished, he was no less proud of the picture than if he sat down and built the thing. She walked behind him, standing so close he smelled her perfume. It had lost some magic that morning, but he still closed his eyes as he breathed.

  “What is that?” she asked as she reached over his shoulder and picked up the page.

  “That,” he looked into her face, “is the Olympus.”

  “Really?” she breathed in awe, and he loved her more for recognizing the importance of the moment. “It looks so simple.”

  “It has to be,” he said. “Simplicity is the key.”

  He stood and took one side of the paper but didn’t pull away from her. Side by side, they looked at it like a sonogram of their child. Yesterday, he might have spent the rest of the day turning the thought in his head, imagining their fantasy family like some lovesick teenager, but today he had work to do.

  11

  No one at Brandon’s house slept the night Eric and Warden Carmichael were killed. From the living room floor, Vick watched Carly on the couch, staring at the ceiling. In the armchair by the window, John looked out at the falling snow. As far as Vick could tell, he didn’t need sleep. Maybe it and death went hand and hand and being done with one meant being done with both, but immortality didn’t keep his eyes open and thoughts a steady blur. That fault belonged to the morning ahead.

  Somewhere in the quiet night, Suzanne was dying, and he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t stop her suffering. That would haunt him forever, the acceptance enough to believe every word about what he would become. Wolgiss. The name cycled in his mind as background to their conversation in the attic. If Tuck Marshall can survive, so can she. A riddle he failed to solve, and now it was too late. Tomorrow was about goodbye and moving on to whatever Hell the world became without Suzanne in it.

  A few minutes after one, Pastor Marshall shuffled into the room with heavy eyelids and a slump of surrender in his shoulders. He asked if anyone wanted coffee, and they all followed him to the kitchen. Even John joined them, though Vick didn’t think he yawned all night. Still, he took his mug with a nod and sat at the table. After a couple silent sips, Carly looked at him.

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “Vick and I will leave you here. After an hour, you’ll be free to go home, to whichever one you choose, though I recommend the one with your daughter.”

  She turned her head to swallow whatever emotion threatened at his mention of Lita. The gesture reminded Vick of Sheriff Arkin, a mental reset before she tried again.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said with a sarcastic smile that made her more her father’s daughter, “but being told I’ll be okay when a drug tsar has a boner for my head with or without the body attached doesn’t cut it.”

  “Fair enough,” John nodded. “Tomorrow morning, this drug tsar’s men will stake out our old hotel. We’ll get them to follow us to a private research facility less than a mile from here.”

  “Orion?” Brandon asked behind him.

  “Yes,” John didn’t look away from Carly’s face. “Between me and the small army chasing us, their se
curity will be too occupied to keep Vick out of the building.”

  Carly’s eyes shifted to Vick, and John’s did the same a second later. He imagined the pastor watching the back of his head but didn’t look at any of them. He stared into the center of the table as if he could come out the other side in the moment he dreaded or, by some miracle, after. He waited for them to leave him alone, which Carly did first when another question came to her.

  “If I’m not going, why will they follow you?”

  “Well,” John said, “Vick will drive to the back of the lot, and I’ll shoot one in the head. They’ll follow us before they take time to wonder if they’re being herded to slaughter.”

  “You’re talking about people,” Brandon interrupted. “You realize that, don’t you? Whatever this is about, those are men you’ll kill. They were born to mothers and fathers who did wrong or right by them. Even if their lives are rotten, at one point they were innocent and lost that. Given half a chance, they might find it again, but you talk about their deaths as if they’re means to an end.”

  “I’m sorry,” John turned his head, “but you’re an exception to a rule that rarely falters. These lives were charted from their first screaming breath to their last, the purpose of their existence fulfilled tomorrow. I’m sorry that doesn’t match the story you built about a worthless kid finding salvation, but I have seen these things play out for thousands of years, and that’s not how this works. The stone sets the path and resets it when the time comes back around. If there’s a point beyond the road under our feet, I couldn’t tell you what it is. What I can say with certainty is this: no matter what the men who’ll die tomorrow did different on any given day, each would end up standing in the same place when I pull my trigger. All the other parts are unknown, and I’m fine with that.”