The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments)

by Jacqueline Druga

  The shower, the sound of running water started. It was his signal. It was his daily routine. Fr. Dan hurried to the bathroom door, listening. He waited for his time and he opened the door.

  He watched Rickie emerge himself into the water, his thin body, his young body. Fr. Dan stirred within himself. His own hands wandering, roaming about his own body, mimicking the motion he was now watching Rickie make.

  Rickie had to know. He had to know he was watching. Licking his lips, feeling the heaviness in his chest, he knew it was time.

  Rickie let his singing words gurgle as the water beat down on his mouth. It was a game with him, letting his mouth fill up with the warm water and singing it out of his mouth. He soaped up, totally lost in his shower routine. He was so engrossed that a startling twitch hit his stomach when he heard the shower door slowly slide open. Was it Jennifer? Rickie smiled. “Surprising me, babe?” He was ready for her.

  “Yes, I am.”

  The deep male voice sent a shiver through him. Afraid to turn around, he glanced back to see a naked Fr. Dan. “Shit. I got to get out of here.” Rickie could not move. Briefly he was frozen in shock. Nervously his hands shook. As he moved to his left, reaching quickly for the door, he felt a strong grip on the back of his head and Fr. Dan grabbed his arm and twisted it to his back. The wet hard surface of the tile shower stall met his face with a crash as Fr. Dan slammed him hard against the wall. Rickie felt the searing pain to his cheek as his face was crushed between Fr. Dan’s firm hold and the wall. “No!” Rickie knew he had to fight. He had to fight with everything he had. But before he knew what was happening, Rickie had an even more difficult situation to fight his way out of.

  ^^^^

  “Jake! Will you please make your move?” Cal ordered as they sat on her floor. The small chess board the only distance between them as she sat, one leg out to the side, and he lay on his side propped up on his arm. “Today, please.”

  “I’d go faster if I wasn’t so distracted.” He motioned his hand toward her. “Must you sit like that?”

  “Right, sweat pants are so inviting. Jake . . . if it bothers you, don’t look. Make your move.”

  “Fine.” Huffing at her, he lifted his eyes to her face, moved his castle to the end of the board nearest her. “Check.” As he lifted his hand from his game piece he let it brush softly over her body.

  “You touched me like that on purpose.”

  “Cal, I mean, the board is right there. If it bothers you . . . move back.”

  “Jake, this is stupid.” Cal lifted the board and set it off to the side.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Jake.” She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “If you want to touch me . . .” she said as she slipped her leg through the triangle that formed between his chest and his arm, “you can.” She moved her body closer.

  Jake swallowed as she inched her way to him. “I have to be honest. I’m really close to folding.”

  “How close?” She moved another inch closer.

  “How many days are we into this break-up?”

  “Nine days.” Her foot touched his calf.

  “You gave me two weeks. So I have six more days.” Jake nodded.

  “It’s all right to lose, Jake.” Cal was nearly against him. “Say ‘I concede,’ that’s all you have to do.”

  “I . . . uh . . .” Jake’s lips moved closer. “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” Cal’s mouth moved around his, not touching. “Say it.” she whispered. “Say it.”

  “I . . .” Jake took a deep breath, and placing his hands firmly to her face he began to lower her back. “Con . . .” Just as his lips were about to sink into hers, just as his body was about to press against her, three soft knocks came on the door. “Saved.” Jake released Cal and backed up, running his hand over the top of his head. “A moment of weakness . . . saved.”

  There were two more knocks, and then an odd sound. Rickie called out softly. “Cal. Can I come in?” he asked, barely loud enough to be heard.

  “Sure. Hold on.” Cal started to get up.

  “Is um . . . Is Sarge with you?” Rickie asked.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Could you . . . could you see if he could leave? Please. I need to talk to you. Please.”

  Cal looked down to the floor at Jake, surprised at Rickie’s request.

  With a concerned look on his face, Jake mouthed the words ‘something’s wrong.’ He stood up speaking so Rickie couldn’t hear him. “Go ahead. I want to get something to drink. I’ll leave through my side.”

  Cal moved closer to the door. “He’s leaving now Rickie. Hold on.” She waited for Jake to walk out through the bathroom and she opened the door. “Rickie?”

  The young man slumped in the doorway, his head down, his wet hair hanging forward. He was bare foot, wearing only jeans.

  “Are you . . .” Cal stopped asking when Rickie lifted his head and she saw his face. There was blood on his swollen cheek and his face and eyes were red. “What happened?” She pulled him inside and shut the door.

  “Cal.” Rickie spoke with no emotions.

  “Rickie what’s wrong, what happened to you?”

  Rickie dropped to his knees releasing an emotional sob. He grabbed hold of Cal, his arms clinging to her waist and buried his head into her stomach like a scared child with his mother. “I tried. I really tried. I can’t believe . . . I let.” He broke down and started to cry again.

  “Rickie” Cal ran her hand down the back of his hair, and then lowered herself to be at his level. With her hands on his cheeks she lifted his face to look at him. It was at that moment she saw how young he was. Saw the frightened look in his eyes. “What happened? You have to tell me?” She felt his head fall into her chest. She cradled him and listened as he mumbled so heartbreakingly.

  “I thought I could get away. I fought. I tried. Fr. Dan came in.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “I was in my shower. He came in. He . . .” Rickie couldn’t speak anymore.

  “Oh, my God.” Cal pulled him closer. “He can’t get away with this.” She pulled Rickie from her. “He can’t get away with this.” She stood up, helping Rickie to his feet.

  “Cal, it’s too late.”

  “No!” Cal, feeling herself moving out of control, held her hand out. “I have to get Jake.” She headed to the door.

  Rickie reached out in desperation, grabbing her arm. “No, Cal. Jake can’t know. He just . . .” Rickie’s head dropped, “. . . can’t know. Please.”

  “Then I’ll deal with him.” Cal charged through the bathroom into Jake’s room and came back out, rifle in hand.

  “Cal, stop.” Rickie grabbed her again. “Don’t.”

  “Rickie!” Cal pulled away. “I’m just going to deal with him.” She opened her door. “In a way he’ll understand. I’ll be right back.” With a slam of the door, Cal stormed down the hall.

  She stood before Fr. Dan’s room for a few seconds. She took calming breaths, letting her pounding heart beat more naturally. Holding the rifle, she turned it, butt first and knocked lightly on the door. In the phoniest, sweetest voice she could muster up, Cal called to him. “Fr. Dan? Could I speak with you for just a moment, please?”

  “Sure, Cal,” he answered. Surprised, Fr. Dan opened the door but was not greeted with the smile or pleasantries he expected. Instead he was greeted with the end of a rifle smashing into his face.

  Cal plowed into his room, slamming the door closed with the back of her foot. “You sick fuck.” Holding the rifle like a baseball bat, she swung forth with fury at Fr. Dan who had just managed to make it to his feet. His head flung back with his body, and he met the floor again. She marched over to stand on top of him. As she went to nail him again, Fr. Dan rolled out of the way and stumbled to his feet. “What did you do to Rickie?” She swung at him, plugging him in the gut.

  “He . . .” Fr. Dan said as he coughed in pain, “wanted me.”

  His words burn
ed in Cal. He was a man, a sick man, completely in denial of the violent act he had done. “No.” She brought the rifle down again but this time he caught it and stopped her.

  “You think you’re stronger than me, Cal?” He snatched the rifle from her. “You’re wrong.” He aimed it at her.

  “Go ahead shoot me. You think I’d bring a loaded weapon in here?”

  Fr. Dan clicked back the hammer, shot, nothing happened. In his desperation he swung it at Cal. She ducked. He kept swinging. She kept ducking.

  Taking a chance, she threw her small body into him, knocking him into the wall, sending the rifle sailing across the room.

  Fr. Dan felt a blow to his ribs. He grasped her hair, pulled back her head and with all his strength, knuckles white, and punched Cal in the face, sending her down. But not without her legs catching his, swooping forth and bringing him with her.

  Jake had given Cal and Rickie long enough. What if Rickie really wasn’t upset? What if he was dangerous? Though Jake knew that was next to impossible, he had to get back to Cal’s room. He opened the door, calling out to let them know he was back. “Cal?” He stepped in, still holding the door open, he saw Rickie on the floor, head down. “Where’s . . .” He saw Rickie’s face. “What happened to you?”

  “Jake.” Rickie sprung to his feet. “She went after Fr. Dan.”

  “Cal?”

  “Yes. And she took a gun.”

  “Fuck.” He slammed his hand on the archway of the door and raced down to Fr. Dan’s room. As soon as he got to the door he heard the scurrying and crashing inside. “Shit!” He grabbed the door knob only to find the door was locked. “Cal!” With his shoulder, Jake crashed through the door.

  Cal was on her stomach, hand reaching out for the rifle. As her fingertips grasped it, Fr. Dan lifted her to her feet by her hair. She didn’t see Jake charge in to help her. Pushing backwards, Cal’s back pressed to Fr. Dan’s until she felt a sudden dead end as they smacked into the wall. Holding the rifle, she sent it back, butting him in his hip, causing him to cry out. She held the weapon outward by the barrel and spun around, grunted out loudly, and delivered one more final blow to Fr. Dan. Spraying blood shot from his mouth as his eyes rolled, knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Glaring down at him, watching his eyes fluttering, Cal whispered harshly, “You’re not dead now. But the next time I see you out of this room . . . you will be.”

  Out of breath she stepped back. As she started to leave the room she saw Jake. “Lock him in here, Jake.” She gave him his rifle. “Lock him in here so he can’t get out.” Cal walked to the door, catching the dripping blood from her nose. “Oh, Jake . . .” she said turning back to face him, “thank you for letting me finish that.” Then she walked out.

  “Did I have a choice?” He shook his head. Amazed at how Cal had brutalized Fr. Dan, and still wondering what the hell happened, Jake, with the keys that never left his body, secured the padlocks he had previously placed on the doors leaving a bloodied and beaten Fr. Dan to fend for himself in a room he could not escape.

  ^^^^

  The basin of the bathroom sink was filled with warm water, water that once was clear but now pinkish from the mixture of her blood and soap. Cal looked one more time toward Rickie who lay on Jake’s bed. She splashed her face and reached blindly for a towel.

  “Here.” Jake handed her one. “Let me see.” He turned her to face him, taking the towel back. “Christ.” He dipped it in the water, gently cleaning her face even more, dabbing and touching her injuries. His fingers probed around her eyes. “These will be black tomorrow.” He gently pressed on the bridge of her nose. “It’s not broken. Did you get the clot out?”

  “Yes, Jake.”

  “Are you teeth loose? Your lip is swollen.”

  “I know. And no, they’re fine.”

  In disgust, he tossed the towel harshly into the sink splashing the water. “What the fuck, Cal? You care to tell me why you felt you couldn’t come to me? You shouldn’t be getting into physical confrontations with men twice your weight, twice your size.”

  “He may have gotten me a few times,” she said quietly, “but I walked away.”

  “That you did.” Jake ran his hand down his face. “Cal, you took a chance, a big chance. Now what was so important that you had . . .”

  “Shh.” She motioned her head.

  “Shh, what?” Jake whispered and then looked where she nodded and asked, “Why is he lying on my bed?”

  “He can’t go back to his room. In fact, I want you to get his stuff for him. You can put your stuff in my room, I don’t care. He needs a place to . . .”

  “What is going on?”

  “Lower your voice.”

  Jake did. “What is going on?”

  “I can’t tell you. I made a promise”

  “Fuck that. You will tell me. I think I deserve to know why I have to see you hurt like this. Why you took a beating, winner or not. Don’t I?”

  Cal brought her finger to her lips and shut the bathroom door. She led Jake into her room. “Rickie came in here Jake. And he wasn’t the Rickie that we know. He cried. In fact, he held on to me for help like no one has. I saw a kid, a frightened kid.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He doesn’t want you to know. Maybe he thinks you’d blame him, too. I don’t know. All I do know is that a scared and hurt young man cried out. I was furious and sought justice. And trust me, the justice I delivered was far less than deserved.”

  Jake was piecing it together, little by little—Rickie not wanting him to know, Rickie crying, upset because Fr. Dan did something to him. Jake suddenly was hit by a sickening feeling and his stomach turned.

  “Jake, Fr. Dan . . .”

  “Don’t.” He held up his hand and reached backwards for a chair. “Don’t say.” He slowly set himself down. “I understand.” He lifted his arm grabbing Cal’s hand. “And you kept your promise to Rickie. You didn’t tell me.” He brought her hand, bruised and red to his lips. He pressed his lips to her skin. “We’ll take care of it.” He stood up. “I’ll help you help him the best we can.”

  “How Jake?” She squeezed his hand. “How do we help him?”

  Slowly letting out the long deep breath he held, Jake lifted his shoulders but didn’t speak. He didn’t have an answer, because he didn’t know. He just didn’t know.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Observation Room - Caldwell Research Institute, Atlanta, GA

  October 16 - 1:55 P.M.

  Totally impressed with their ability to make it into the observation room ahead of time for once, Stan and Lyle strutted in looking like the champs of kindness.

  Stan raised his hand high, tossing his brown bag lunch on the counter. “Hey, girls, guess who’s here on time?” He pulled out the chair next to Barb. “What’s wrong with you two? You’re awfully quiet.” He looked at Barb, usually stone faced and calloused and saw she had tears in her eyes. “Barb? Did someone die?”

  “Fr. Dan got Rickie,” She answered. “He’s not dead. In the bathroom, Rickie was his victim.”

  Stan shook his head. “I don’t understand. Did he beat him up? What?” Then his eyes widened. “No.”

  Barb nodded her head. She rose slowly from the chair. “Look at him, Stan. He’s in Jake’s room.”

  Lyle peered at the monitor. “He went to Jake?”

  “Cal.” Tina answered. “He went to Cal. Look at Fr. Dan.” She showed them Fr. Dan who lay on the floor, motionless. “He’s barely moved in the past four hours. Look at Cal.” They watched as Cal walked into the room with Rickie, sat on the bed next to him and replaced the cold cloth on his face with a fresh one. “Look at her face.”

  Stan zoomed in. “Were they duking it out? Where was Jake?”

  Tina nodded subtly as she slowly rose from her chair. “He wasn’t around when she went after Fr. Dan. When he broke down the door, Cal was handling the situation. Watch the video. We saved it. We think Aldo would be proud of her.”

  Lyle
pressed play on the tape monitor. “Holy hell,” he said as he watched the struggle between Cal and the priest. “Proud? No. He’s going to want to hire her.”

  I-S.E. Twelve - Seal River Complex, Manitoba, Canada

  October 16 - 4:10 P.M.

  Gathered around a table in the dining room John, Jennifer, Carlos and Griff, huddled and whispered secretly.

  Jennifer, fanatic, wrung her hands. “I want him out,” she told the group. “Who appointed Major Graison warden?”

  Carlos shook his head. “I disagree. We should just stay quiet.”

  Griff slid a piece of paper John’s way.

  After reading it, John looked up. “Griff says he’s betting it has to do with Rickie. When do we know Rickie not to show up to irk us during the meal.”

  Carlos agreed. “Where was he? I’m telling you all. It was bad. Whatever it was, it was bad.” Slowly he stood up. “Do what you want. But this time, I side with Graison.” No more being said, Carlos walked away.

  ^^^^

  Jake watched Cal walk into her room, closing the bathroom door as she moved slowly. Her arms were crossed, her head low. “How is he?” Jake asked as he sat up.

  “Not like Rickie.” Cal leaned against a wall and rested her head back. “He says he’s in a lot of pain.”

  Jake opened his mouth as he stood, closed it tightly and breathed heavily through his nose. His head tilted slowly.

  “He said he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding, Jake.” Cal held her arms tighter. “Do you think he’s OK?”

  Jake walked closer to her rubbing his hands harshly down his face. “It’s hard to say. This is a young kid. We don’t have any doctors . . .”

  “Doctors?”

  “Yes, Cal, doctors. It’s conceivable . . .” Jake paused trying to place his words correctly. “It’s possible that damage could have been done. It depends on what all took place.”