by Platt, Sean
“Can I help you with something, Styley?”
It must have been something in the way he said it, because Styley took a dweeby step back from Boricio and started shaking his head furiously back and forth. “No, Mr. Bishop,” he said. “You just look upset, so I was seeing if there was something I could help you with. Like maybe you were having trouble with the elevator.”
No, I’m not having any trouble with the elevator. I’m having trouble with a know-it-all philosophizing dick tip, fuckyouverymuch.
“No,” Boricio shook his head, unclenching his fist and relaxing his fingers. “No trouble at all, Richard. I just forgot what I was here for, and I hate it when that happens.”
“I know how that feels.” Styley smiled, though Boricio thought the smile looked thinner than a summer sweater.
Boricio nodded, then pressed 5, and set his hand on the scanner. The green line went up and down, then dinged as the elevator began to move. Boricio ignored Styley as the man pressed the 6 and put his hand on the scanner.
The elevator doors dinged closed. Boricio quickly scowled, then scrubbed it from his face before the doors opened to Level Five a few seconds later. He stepped from the elevator before the doors were even half open, ignoring Styley as he said a meek “Goodbye,” and marched down the hallway toward Will’s office, trying to keep his calm, despite an inferno of rage burning inside him, licking an inner certainty that Will had revoked his access to Level Seven.
Boricio spent the entire hallway breathing in and out and in and out as he tried untangling the pretzeled thoughts and twisted circles threading through his head. Another 15 minutes of Boricio’s practiced breathing, or hell, even a long hour of Lamaze wouldn’t be enough. He stormed into Will’s office, barely able to keep accusation and anger from owning his voice.
“Wanna tell me why the fuck my security clearance has been downgraded?!” Boricio yelled. “I just tried to get to Level Seven, like I have every day since you dragged my ass and entire life onto this island.”
Will calmly looked up from his desk, sighed, then held Boricio’s angry gaze for a half-minute or so before turning his attention back to the thin stack of sheets scattered across his desk. He stared down for another second, then shook his head and pushed the papers into a pile toward the corner.
“Boricio,” he said, “I don’t want to fight, not about this or anything else.”
“If you didn’t want to fight, then you wouldn’t have done sh… stuff behind my back.” He watched his language, giving Will nothing to bitch about and only the facts to argue. Boricio swallowed and breathed, waiting for Will to respond.
“I understand how you’re feeling, and hear what you’re saying,” Will said, “And I’m sorry you’re angry. But I did what I had to do and stand by my decision. Unfortunately, you weren’t around when I made it. If you were standing beside me, I would have told you. I certainly have nothing to hide. Can you say the same?”
Boricio’s fingers curled back into their fists.
Will shook his head, sighed, and then stood up and walked around his desk to face Boricio.
“I’m not afraid of you, Boricio. I am your father. And I will do what is right, always. I’m sorry about Rose.” He cleared his throat. “Truly I am. But there’s nothing I can do. What’s happened has happened, and the best thing we can do now — the healthiest thing for us to do together — is to accept that reality and do what we can within the realms of proven medicine, not the vials. What I cannot allow to happen,” he bored his eyes into Boricio’s, “what I will not allow to happen, is for you to go over my head again. That isn’t good for Level Seven, Son, and it’s definitely not good for our family.”
“I didn’t go over your head,” Boricio said. “Or behind your back. Unless you’ve suddenly been named as head of the Remedy Project and didn’t take me out for a steak to celebrate, then I beg to fucking differ.”
Will had walked around to Boricio’s side of the desk, but the words spilled from Boricio’s lips without a single breath taken, and nearly every word from the inside of a snarl made him take a surprisingly large step back.
Boricio finished. “You’re a consultant to the Remedy Project, Will, a consultant just like me, not in charge. And what I thought had to be done with Luca didn’t require your particular brand of it ain’t gonna work, so I took it to Williams, who knew I was right, and helped to save your son from the death sentence you were all too willing to accept.”
“It was wrong,” Will said. “And you were wrong. Are wrong. The only reason you’re even allowed to step foot inside this facility is because I brought you in and put my name beside yours. You may be too old for me to be your legal guardian out there,” Will pointed past the wall of his office, “but in here, that’s exactly who I am, like it or not. I gave you full access and you abused your position.”
“Sorry that your memory’s only working in bits and pieces, Pops, but the truth is that you brought me into Level Seven to bail you out, and we both know it.”
“I never needed you to bail me out, Boricio,” Will said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, you sure as shit needed me to help you ‘deal with all the assholes and politics of the job,’ or is that not the exact words you used when you asked me to come work here?”
Boricio took another step toward Will. “I’m the only one in here who gets you, and that’s why you need me. So what are you gonna do if you downgrade me, Dad? How are you gonna get by?”
“I managed before and I’ll manage again, but this is unacceptable. I will not be held hostage by my son, or made to feel as though my instincts are frail. You don’t know everything, Boricio. Some things you don’t know on purpose because you can’t. And there are times when you have to be okay with that. Despite your access, and our relationship, I am privy to classified information that I cannot legally share with you.”
For the first time, Will’s eyes held a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, Boricio, but that’s the way it is. This is one of those times where you just have to trust me. Honestly, after all these years I feel it’s the least I deserve.” He shook his head. “You have no idea how much acid you give me.” He pushed his hand against his stomach, as though the acid was leaking.
For a second, Boricio felt so bad he wanted to vomit, but the bear inside him knew it was all bullshit. Will was making excuses. If Boricio knew something that Will needed to know, then he wouldn’t give a dozen undigested kernels worth of crap whether it was classified or not.
Boricio said, “What am I supposed to do with my day then, Will, huh? If I’m not heading into Level Seven, then what in the hell am I doing? Why even be here? I might as well go to New Orleans and be a cook.”
“No need to be all dramatic, Son,” he shook his head, now standing beside Boricio. Will set his calm hands gently on Boricio’s shoulders, and looked him in the eyes. “This isn’t a forever decision. It’s temporary; difficult to make but the right thing to do. The downgrade is in effect immediately because I felt it was necessary. The second I no longer feel that way, it will fade like a hangover. I promise.” Will smiled at Boricio. “Okay?”
Boricio didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what he could say. No, it wasn’t fucking okay. He was about to nod anyway when Will said, “There’s plenty to do, Boricio. Marshall needs all sorts of help on his lab work and filing. Wilson, too. Most of Level Five in fact. There’s more than enough to keep you busy for now.”
Will suddenly brightened, as if only at that moment realizing the true abundance of available work.
Boricio wasn’t smiling.
“What in the hell are you saying, Will?”
“I’m not saying anything,” Will shook his head, suddenly flustered. “Except that there’s plenty of work to be done and that you don’t have to worry about having nothing to do.”
Boricio said, “Well, then maybe you can clarify. Because what it sounded like you said was that you wanted me to be an administrative assistant for all the Dilberts
on Level Five. Did I misunderstand your message?”
Boricio’s shoulders felt like they’d grown three feet. Something inside him enjoyed watching Will retreating back to his side of the desk, and the way his pores were practically bleeding fear.
If Boricio couldn’t get the respect he deserved, he’d damned well settle for fear.
“Boricio,” Will said. “Be reasonable. I’m not asking you to leave. I’m asking you to be patient, and to trust me.” He leaned across the desk, either less afraid or swallowing his fear. “I promise, I’m only thinking of you. As much as you think you deserve my faith, and you do Boricio, I deserve yours too. And I asked for it first.” Will gave him a weak smile then said, “Please believe I know what’s best. At least this time.”
Boricio shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said. “Because you don’t. You didn’t know what was best for Luca, and you don’t know what’s best for Rose.”
“Boricio —”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Boricio breathed slowly in and out, barely keeping the snarl from his throat. He tore the badge hanging from the lanyard around his neck, threw it onto Will’s desk, then ripped a bright pink Post-it from the top of a multicolored stack.
Boricio wrote: “I QUIT” in black sharpie, then said, “I’ve always hated the goddamn lighting in this place anyway. Fucking fluorescents.”
Boricio stormed from his father’s office, barely containing the swelling rage.
* * * *
CHAPTER 3 — Charlie Wilkens Part 1
Black Mountain, Georgia
March 2012
FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…
Charlie stared at the man standing in the yellow hazmat suit. Though he was bald, scarred, and wore an eye patch on his left eye, he looked exactly like the Boricio who sprang he and Adam from the weird ass cult compound not too long ago.
Yet, judging from the lack of recognition in his eyes, he may as well have been a stranger.
Just as Charlie was about to say something about being Boricio, the Imaginary Boricio beside him finally spoke up.
“Wait! Don’t say anything, Charlie Brown. There’s something weird about this guy. Yeah, he looks like me, but there’s something . . . off.”
Imaginary Boricio looked closer, then turned to Charlie, “I haven’t been gone long enough to have a scar that faded. That isn’t me! Maybe he’s some long lost twin or somethin!” He laughed. “My real daddy musta’ been a bad, bad man.”
Charlie looked the hazmat-suited man in the eye, “Who are you?”
“My name is Boricio Bishop,” he said. “And you’re at Black Mountain Research Facility.”
“Woah,” Imaginary Boricio spun on his foot. “Looks like they’re slopping up the beer-battered bullshit in piles over here in the Twilight Zone Inn! Don’t say dick about him not knowing you, Chucky Fuck Stick! There’s something about this shit that’s fishier than Fat Betty’s sloppy tuna. I say keep your mouth shut. Just the facts, ma’am, least until we figure this shit out.”
Imaginary Boricio paced the glass cell as the hazmat-suit Boricio continued to speak.
“Have you heard of Black Mountain?”
“No,” Charlie said.
“We’re pretty much all that remains of the United States government. There’s a few other facilities throughout the world, but we lost contact after The Event. Our job now is to try and return things to normal.”
Charlie wanted to snap, ask the one-eyed asshole if his idea of normal was killing innocent people, but instead he chose to ask a question since this was the first person he met — even if he was Boricio’s twin — who seemed to have some insight into whatever in the hell happened to the world on October 15.
“What was The Event?”
Boricio looked down for a moment, then back up at Charlie. “That’s classified information. What I can tell you is that we’re trying to cure the outbreak. Which is what makes you a curious oddity.”
“What outbreak?” Charlie asked. “And why am I an oddity?”
“The outbreak is alien in nature. The aliens infect humans, like parasites, and eventually take over their hosts. Our tests say that you’re infected, and your blood work clearly shows infection. And judging from the way you laid my men out, I’d say you’re clearly not just human. Yet you show no signs of degeneration like the others. It’s as if the infection enhanced you, but has not taken over your system — suggesting a symbiotic relationship, which is either an anomaly or an evolution. We need to understand what’s happening with you.”
“I’m not infected!” Charlie said. “When did you take my blood?”
“While you were unconscious. It’s standard procedure. And yes, you are infected. Have you been bitten by an alien or infected human?”
Charlie tried to think back to his run-ins with the creatures. He couldn’t recall having been bitten. “No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head. “Scratched, maybe, but not bitten. Can you be infected through a scratch?”
“Possibly through any exchange of fluid, do you remember how long ago?”
“I dunno. A few days I guess. We were attacked by a guy who’d turned into one of those things. He might’ve scratched me, I can’t remember.”
Hazmat-suit Boricio said, “Hmm. Yeah, you should be showing more physical signs by now. Most of the infected begin to visibly mutate within 48 hours or so.”
“Is it possible that I’m a carrier and can’t catch it.”
“It’s not like a virus,” Boricio said. “They are parasites. If it’s in you, it’s in you. It’s not a matter of catching something. You are infected. Yet, it hasn’t advanced to later stages of the infection as we understand it. My scientists are speculating that perhaps there is something unique about your case or you that would explain this — something they may be able to use to develop a cure to drive out the parasites. Or reverse the mutation to restore an already infected person’s humanity. We’d like your help.”
Something was calming in this Boricio’s voice which cast him as day to the other Boricio’s night. This Boricio seemed more intelligent and deliberate, calmer in his approach. Imaginary Boricio had momentarily vanished again, leaving Charlie alone to contemplate what he should say or do next.
He wanted to trust this new Boricio, but was still shaken by what the Guardsmen had done.
“Why should I trust you?” Charlie said. “You have us locked in here like animals. And you burned a man alive in front of me!”
“You’re locked up here as a quarantine measure.”
“Is everyone here infected,” Charlie interrupted. “Is, Callie?” He pointed at Callie, who was still sleeping in the next cell.
“No, she is not infected. Nor is everyone else. Some people are here because they’d volunteered to help us.”
“She didn’t volunteer!” Charlie said. “Your men in vans came and grabbed her. Just like they did me and my friend, Adam!”
Boricio looked over at Callie, then back at Charlie. “We did bring some people in from the outside, but I assure you, they’re better off here than out there. It’s dangerous out there. No one will survive long once these things colonize the planet. We need people to help us test. Not only to cure the infected, but to stop the aliens. To kill them.”
“So you’re testing people against their will? You’re testing Callie against her will? What kinds of tests are these? Are you infecting people?”
Boricio sighed again. He was far more patient than the Boricio that Charlie knew, who would have long ago smacked Charlie into obedience, saying something like, “You don’t like it, Charlie Cock Sucker? Tough shit.” Then he would’ve given Charlie the finger and added, “Sit on this and rotate, Chuckie Fuck-Stick!”
This Boricio chose his words wisely, which made Charlie wonder why he was being so patient.
Wait . . . do I have some leverage to negotiate?
“Ding! Ding! Ding! Tell the boy what he’s won,” Imaginary Boricio suddenly chimed, appearing beside Charlie agai
n. “These fuckers need what you’ve got in that body of yours! I’ll bet it feels good to finally not get handed a rock, eh, Charlie Brown?”
The real Boricio finally spoke, “Sometimes our hands are forced to do things we’d rather not do, for the better good. We must test a few to save the many.”
Charlie shook his head. “You’re killing people. Turning them into monsters!”
“It’s science,” Boricio snapped, his patience thinning. “We don’t have the luxury of fancy computer models or a supply of lab animals to work with now. These aliens are spreading, and we are this close to understanding the how’s and why’s and actually helping people. This close,” Boricio repeated, holding his yellow gloved fingers about an inch apart. “Would you have us abandon our research and throw our hands up in defeat until every man, woman, and child left in this world is either infected or food? Because that’s what happens when we do nothing.”
Charlie shook his head, “No, I guess not.”
“We’re not the bad guys,” Boricio said.
“Then why did you burn that man? What had he done to deserve that?”
Boricio’s eye met Charlie’s. “We needed something to get you in line. To see that we mean business. That man was no innocent. When we found him, he’d been keeping a child in a cage — as a sex slave. So I have few compunctions about experimenting on, or killing, a child rapist. How about you?”
“No,” Charlie shook his head. “But you guys killed an innocent child too! One that wasn’t even infected!”
Boricio’s head titled ever so slightly, “What are you talking about? We don’t have any children as test subjects.”
“No, in the truck I was being transported in. There was a young boy with me. We were the only survivors. The men tested him and he showed negative, or whatever you call it when someone’s not infected. So they told him to come to the van with me and when he started walking, they shot him in the back of head. Pow! Just like that. Dead! How the fuck is that you being the good guys?!”
