He worked frantically for eight hours straight when he needed to do another physical round with the patients. The music followed him as he dashed to the recovery lab, skimmed through the readings, and double-checked all the equipment. On his way out, he grabbed a set of neural communications pads, and headed back to his desk for another solid eight. This time he had pads on his head. He proceeded to rattle off the last lines of code, and with extra force, he pressed the enter key for the last time. The music came to an abrupt but fitting end.
Panting, he sat back with his eyes closed for just a moment. He thought through how he needed to execute his applications just prior to Dr. Campbell gaining consciousness, so he had about another eight hours to go.
“Are you okay, Dr. Martin?” Cindy had entered the office without him noticing.
Without opening his eyes, he rubbed his face and pulled the pads off his head. He took a deep breath. “Huh?”
“When was the last time you showered or slept?”
Martin smacked his lips, trying in vain to ward off his dry-mouth, then looked at her. “I’m fine, thanks. How’s your arm?”
“It’s healing great.”
He nodded, idly. “How are Jamal and Armando?”
She shook her head. “We’re all doing our best. We took turns resting and getting cleaned up. You should really be next, Dr. Martin. We need you functional if we’re going to get through this.”
He nodded but hesitated for a moment before saying anything. “Cindy, what if I told you that everything’s going to be alright? Would you believe me?”
A puzzled look came across her face. “Believe you? I don’t know. We’re all certain they’re going to kill us regardless of what happens. But none of us know what to do about it.”
Martin tipped his head. “When the time is right, you’ll know what to do. Trust me.”
Cindy continued to look confused but seemed to be feeling somewhat better as the conversation went on. “Thanks. I’m going to get back to the others.” She turned to leave.
“Cindy, before you go…”
She looked back.
He hesitated. “Just look for a sign.”
She nodded and shrugged. “Okay. Thanks again.”
After she left, her advice echoed in Martin’s head. He decided that she had a point, and he wandered to the designated room where the shower was located. It was an office of someone who had apparently been very important to have had a shower in their personal bathroom. A generic set of clothes had been laid out in advance. Dr. Martin turned on the water as hot as he could stand and peeled off his soiled shirt, pants, and underwear. He discovered sores on his rear from sitting so long. It explained some of the stinging he’d had in those areas the last day or two.
He stepped past the shower curtain and savored the burn of the water as he ran his fingers through his greasy, wet hair. He grabbed a wash cloth to lather up. He soaped up his entire body with care, rinsed away the grime, and turned off the faucet. He pulled back the shower curtain revealing a foggy room, but he hadn’t seen more clearly since he’d arrived. Stepping out, he dried himself with the provided towel and threw his new set of clothes on. Dr. Martin felt like a new man as he strolled back to his office.
Upon entering, he found the technician sitting at his desk with a hammer in hand, ready to smash the machine.
“You know, the boss said you were good with computers, but I’d never seen work like this before. Having your programs imitate default system applications was ingenious. It took a memory report for me to see that things were off, and I still wasn’t quite sure until I looked at file sizes of the programs.”
Martin didn’t say a word but walked over and ripped the hammer from the man’s hand.
The man put his hands up. “Hey, man, just wait—”
Martin brought the claw of the hammer down between the man’s flailing arms and with a crunch, into his skull. The man went limp instantly. Martin instinctively left the weapon in his head to curtail the bleeding, then grabbed the lifeless technician under the arms to stop him from hunching over and making a mess. Martin pulled the man’s body from the chair, and it began to flail a bit. He took the man to the closet in the room and gently plopped him down and closed the door. Next, Martin went to the computer console, confirmed all his work was still intact, and headed for the couch in his office.
He laid flat out and was fast asleep in moments.
Martin’s mind had shut down for the first time in three and a half days, and he slept like a baby for a few hours. No dreams. No nightmares. No nothing. When the time was right, his eyes opened on cue, and he stood up. He stepped to his workstation, tapped three keys, and then headed for the recovery lab. By the time he got there, the countdown was in his head.
3…2…1…
Boom!
An explosion rocked the far side of the building and every guard darted in that direction. The staff cried in fear. Martin hushed them with confidence. He eyed Dr. Campbell’s numbers and spoke loudly for everyone to hear. “Don’t worry. This is our chance.” He went over to Campbell, and her eyes were already open.
Then, she opened her mouth and muttered, “I am Jessica. I am safe.”
Meanwhile, the screens on the other two patients went orange, and Jamal went to investigate.
“Don’t worry about them.” Martin waved. “They’ll probably be fine. We need to leave through the north entrance. It’s open. Help me with her.” He pointed to Dr. Campbell.
Cindy, Armando, and Jamal all scowled in unison, but they also didn’t protest. Jamal went to Martin’s aide, and they began pulling out the IVs and other cords connected to Campbell.
Cindy looked in the hallway. “We’re clear. Let’s move!”
Martin and Jamal carried Campbell. Cindy led and Armando brought up the rear as they all moved through the hallways.
Half way to the exit, Martin slowed just a bit. “Armando, can you take Dr. Campbell for me? I’m losing my grip.”
They completed the transfer, and Martin fell behind as the group rounded a corner. The sound of stomping boots could be heard not far behind them. A guard rounded the corner, some twenty meters back and saw Martin.
“Stop or we’ll shoot!” the guard shouted.
The north entrance was right in front of Cindy and the men carrying Dr. Campbell. They passed through it, and Martin headed to the code pad on the wall next to the door. He tapped in a four-digit code, and the door began to close. Cindy looked over her shoulder just in time to see that Martin was not trying to leave the building.
“Dr. Martin! Let’s go!”
Instead, Martin stood there and waved goodbye. The rattle of gunfire came from behind him, and he watched the staff run away holding Dr. Campbell as the door closed. He felt the first bullet pierce through his shoulder. He flinched and moaned but held his ground, blinking through it. Another bullet hit him in the back, and it became difficult for him to stand. A third shot to the leg, and he dropped to his knees. But he didn’t scream or whimper. Another one grazed his ear, and this time he didn’t wince.
In his final moments, his mind took him back to that day in his backyard when he found the baby bird. He thought twice about intervening because he had no clue what to do. But had he not taken a chance putting the chick back in its nest, he would have never discovered the lie. It was a myth that the human scent repels birds away from their babies or nest. Their parental instincts were far too strong for that. And if he hadn’t seen it through, he might have gone on believing the lie. He had to know the truth, no matter the cost—a broken leg and fractured ribs after falling out of the tree. It was more than worth it to know that he wasn’t a killer, but a savior, and he had done some good in the world.
A bullet struck him in the neck, and his vision washed away rapidly. He could feel his breathing getting shallower and his heart beat slowing down, but his mind refuse
d to stop.
I finally earned my ticket. I’ve given our child a chance, Jessica.
With his final bit of strength, Dr. Rex Martin’s last thought materialized as he entered the void of lifelessness.
The world may know my name, but yours will not be forgotten.
Chapter 11:
To Helen, Back Again
“The world may know my name, but yours will not be forgotten.”
My eyes hadn’t opened yet, but I became aware of the unfamiliar and scratchy voice of a man. The darkness seemed expansive, and I wondered if I was in a dream. Then, I began to feel sensation in my face, and it all felt too real. With a little extra effort, I forced my eyelids open to a light that still obscured my vision.
The voice came back. “How does that sound to you? Do you want to go down in history, Natalie?”
I blinked rapidly, trying to see while also attempting to figure out why the man called me Natalie. Before I could make heads or tails of any of it, I was shocked that words began to fall from my mouth. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m just an average girl from a small town.”
The sentences that spoke themselves finished, and my eyes settled. I could see. Sitting before me was a muscular, pale man with thin brown hair and sunken eyes. He wore a faded black button-up with his sleeves rolled up. The shirt was tucked into faded black slacks. The whole outfit must have been washed and dried too many times. A golden necklace hung down to his chest, and I assumed the jewelry was a cross. But upon focusing on it, I was surprised to see a strange insignia—an eight-point star with a red gem in the middle. I turned back to the counter to see that I was drinking a sugary soda at what appeared to be an old-time, manual truck stop. I felt a little annoyed since I remembered that I didn’t get out much.
“You shouldn’t say such things, Natalie. I believe that, like me, you’re destined for great things. I can show you the way.” The man gave a sincere grin, but something about it made me uneasy.
I wanted to leave, but all I could muster was a shrug. With my fork, I cut a piece off my Salisbury steak and ran it through the mashed potatoes. I put the savory bite into my mouth and replied, “It’s not some kind of pyramid scheme, is it? I know a woman who got caught up in one of those, and when she tried to get out, they said she owed thousands of dollars. She’s still working for them.”
The man tipped his head toward me. “As we discussed, our goal is to make all of our members as pure as they can be. You’ll be housed. You’ll be trained. You’ll be made into the person who you were always meant to be. Most importantly, you’ll be a member of the Human Purity Project. All we ask in return is that you contribute to the project as much as you’re given. At a certain point, you’ll be given the option to stay or to go. Once you read our vision, it will all become clear. Everyone decides to stay.”
With every ounce of my being, I wanted to get up and walk away. Oddly enough, I mulled over his offer by comparing it to the other things I had going on in my life. I had recently spoken with Ryan about finding another job since I felt like NTE was a dead end in the long run. A change of scenery might be good for me because I was worked like a dog as Lead Lead Generator. Still, we needed the money, so the guy was going to have to make a compelling argument if I was going to go for what seemed like an internship with nothing more than living expenses paid.
It was at that moment that my thinking began to warp and all the memories that I thought were mine seemed like those of another. My mind’s eye was seeing everything I knew to be true in the third person, and all of it seemed foreign to me. I could see my family’s two-story house with a pool and white picket fence. I could see my brother playing in the yard. Instead of nostalgia, it seemed completely unrealistic to grow up there. As humble and middle-class as we were, the most peculiar feeling came over me.
Jealousy.
To make sense of it all, I dug deeply into my mind. If the childhood and the life I knew to be mine weren’t, what was? Then, it all came flooding back to me.
I lived in a very small and narrow house, possibly a trailer. Most of the year, it was humid inside during the day and clammy at night. It always smelled earthy, but not like camping. It was much more metallic than that, and I was worried about black mold. The place was only lit by a handful of lamps throughout, so shadows covered much of the space. Seeing things wasn’t so bad during the day, but at night, it was difficult. I became aware that my vision was somewhat poor, meaning I probably needed corrective surgery or old-time contacts. It should have been alarming, but it seemed all too normal to me.
The living room of the trailer was always intermittently lit by the flashing of the TV. Then, I remembered who I lived with.
Dad.
Only it wasn’t my dad. He wasn’t anything like my dad. This man had been through a lot. He always worked long hours. When he came home, he’d sit in his recliner and only get up to get another beer, use the john, or pass out in his bedroom. Even when he was home, and we were in the same room, he wasn’t really there. As hard as it was on him, it was almost unbearable growing up with someone like him as a guardian. But it was my life, and a memory from the exact moment it became typical made itself known.
“Tomorrow’s the first day of junior high, Dad.”
Sprawled out in his usual place, his eyes were closed, and he mumbled something.
I shook my head. “I’ll be going to the bus stop. Can you walk me?”
He smacked his lips and opened his eyes just a slit. “Walk yourself. It’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t surprised by his reaction. Part of me knew how he’d respond. I was mostly disappointed in myself for even asking. I had raised myself since…since I couldn’t remember when, but it must have been most of my life.
Where the hell is my mother?
When I tried to focus on her, an empty nothingness was all that came to mind. Wherever she was, it had been a very long time since I last saw her. Part of me felt like I had never met her at all, but flutters of her face overruled that feeling. Still, she definitely hadn’t been there for my adolescence, and I felt something else that was new and horrifying.
Discomfort in my own skin.
It was beyond strange because even after I had become paralyzed in the pool, my folks had always instilled in me self-confidence and a positive self-image. But apparently, in my new history, it had been difficult becoming a woman. No one was there to guide me along the way. I remembered having to muster up enough courage to walk to the convenience store to buy my own tampons for the first time. While all my other emotions had been subdued for some bizarre reason, I felt an extreme embarrassment. I’d looked at the shelves, and my eyes couldn’t settle on a single product among the bunch. When the anxiety grew unbearable, I swiped a random box from the shelf and tucked it under my arm and made a B-line for the register.
With dread, I handed the box to the older man to ring me up. He ogled something fierce. His eyes met mine, then the product, then back at me, then back down. The line behind me was getting longer, and I felt like jumping off a bridge. Marooned in my thoughts, I barely heard the beep of the scanner, and it was all too much.
I put my head down and walked out of the building without buying a thing. I would just have to find something at home and wash my clothes in hotter water. I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Anything was better than feeling like I had. And it wouldn’t have been so bad if the other kids at school didn’t make fun of me. They called me dirty and skanky and slutty, even though boys never really took an interest in me. Even then, if I’d had a support system, I could have gotten through it much easier. But the few friends that I did have moved away when I was younger.
As hard as all that had been, I somehow made it through. I graduated from high school, albeit barely. While I would sometimes fantasize about leaving home and getting my own place, I settled on simply finding work.
Then, my thoughts flash
ed forward a few years.
My emotions had gotten even more muted as time went on. I didn’t care about much outside of my daily routine. Wake up. Shower if I needed it. Otherwise, I’d dig into a basket to find one of my wrinkly work uniforms that I had washed at the laundromat. The logo on the breast pocket of the polo read, “High Garden Hotel,” and while it was hard work, I wasn’t bothered.
I walked two miles to the building and entered through the back. I clocked in with my thumb and went to work scrubbing rooms that were disgusting to say the least. I had to work fast if I was going to meet my ten-room quota before and after lunch. My co-workers didn’t speak a lick of English, but that didn’t matter much since I was no scholar. We had short breaks together, and we’d find ways to communicate. We’d laugh about a particular room we’d cleaned or make fun of the boss. There was a lot of broken English, Spanish, and Polish, as well as some gesturing, but we made it work. As much as I was going through the motions, it really was the highlight of my day. They were the closest thing to friends that I’d ever really had.
That brought me back to the man in black sitting in front of me at the truck stop. If he was just offering me a job, it would have been easy to decline. But he used a word that, while so foreign to me, felt good to hear.
Family.
Between all the half-hearted experiences and black-and-white recollections, there were seeds of wanting to belong to something bigger than the life I’d been given. And if it meant that I had the opportunity to amount to something more than an average girl from a small town, then it was a chance I couldn’t pass up.
Between Two Minds: Revelation Page 18
