by Jay Falconer
Lucas walked to his desk to see what yesterday’s mail had brought them. Three envelopes were sitting on top of the last pile, face up, with fresh postmarks and fingerprints. All three were from someone in the medical field. “More bills for Mom? Are you kidding me?”
“They’re like cockroaches. They keep multiplying.”
Lucas opened the first envelope and almost puked. “Twenty-two grand for three days in urgent care?”
Drew rolled next to Lucas at the desk. “Good thing you had them send the bills here. If Mom finds out, she’ll have another heart attack.”
Lucas’ opened the second bill—it was even more. He slammed it onto the pile, face down, along with the third envelope, which he didn’t open. “You can bet if Mom knew the insurance company was going to deny her claims, she would’ve just told the docs to pull the plug. End it right then and there.”
“How are we going to pay for all this?”
Lucas sighed as he put his elbows on the desk, resting his face in his hands. He didn’t know how much they owed in total, but the number had to be staggering. He wished he had told his foster brother and adoptive mother the truth—that he’d forgotten to mail the check for his mother’s insurance premium, which is why the claims department denied the coverage. But he didn’t see the point of coming clean now—what would it accomplish? He figured he could pay the bills off after he proved one of his theories and sold the rights to a defense contractor or to NASA. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”
“We could always ask Kleezebee.”
“Borrow money from my boss?”
“Why not? He’s loaded. Besides, he might just give us the money.”
“No fucking way. We’re not gonna take handouts. We’ll figure it out on our own.” Just then, his mind played a vision of him walking into a crowded grocery store with a ski mask, gun, and brown paper sack, only to be shot dead before he reached the cash register by some weight-watcher flunky in a wrinkled security guard uniform.
A short minute later, Lucas looked at the clock. “Damn, it’s almost nine. We have to bust nuts if we’re going to make breakfast with Trevor at nine-thirty.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s Friday. Trevor’s probably already there, waiting for us.”
“I hope he fixed that computer glitch in his code. I want to run a few more system checks tonight in the lab, while we still can. Are you doing your workout today?”
Drew looked at the clock above the dresser. “Not enough time. I’ll do my pushups tomorrow.”
Lucas stood in front of his brother’s closet. “What shirt do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter. Something with long sleeves as long as it’s—”
“Blue. I know, it’s Friday,” Lucas said, retrieving a pullover shirt from a hanger. He removed it from the red hanger and gave it to his brother. He was careful to put the hanger back in the closet precisely where it was, exactly two fingers away from the hangers on either side of it.
Drew slipped the shirt over his head and used his fingers as a comb to control his wavy black hair.
Lucas handed his brother a wallet-sized leather pouch that had been sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. “Don’t want to forget this.”
“No. Never.” Drew opened the straps and put them around his head and neck. He tucked the pouch inside the front of the collared shirt.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Lucas said. “Let’s try to leave in ten minutes. I don’t want to be late again.”
* * *
Lucas and Drew were headed east on one of the sidewalks bordering the grassy Mall. The entrance to the Student Union was only half a block away.
“You can always tell when Christmas break hits. The minute finals are over, this place really empties out,” Lucas said, missing the abundance of stunning eye-candy that typically blanketed the mall. It was his favorite part of the day.
“I like it this way,” Drew said. “I hate it when I have to dodge everyone on the Mall. Those Frisbee football players always find a way to hit me when I’m crossing.”
“That’s because you cut right across in the middle of their game.”
“Well, that’s where the sidewalk runs, and I don’t wanna have to go all the way around.”
Lucas stood behind Drew as his foster brother effortlessly wheeled himself up the steep incline to the building’s main entrance; Drew reached to open the glass entrance door, but a tall, blond coed beat him to it. She was on the inside and held the door open for him, giving Drew a rainbow smile as he rolled past her.
Lucas couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses, but the woman’s body language suggested she knew his brother, or possibly, was attracted to him. It was common for women to be intrigued by Drew’s boyishly handsome good looks. If it weren’t for a car accident that mangled his legs, Drew surely would’ve been a world-famous Italian underwear model instead of a PhD candidate. Then again, if not for that accident, they never would’ve met in the orphanage and been adopted together by the Ramsay family.
Before she looked his way, Lucas checked that his shirt was tucked in and that his fly was zipped. He rubbed his tongue across the front of his teeth to make sure nothing foreign was attached.
The girl finally glanced his way, but her smile faded. Lucas wasn’t surprised. Women were often put off by the jagged scars on his face, which obscured the dimples on his cheeks. Years of living in state-run facilities had taken its toll, leaving him looking more like a villain than a scientist. Despite her reaction, Lucas thanked her for helping Drew with the door.
The cafeteria line extended outside the entrance and past a pair of vending machines sitting in the hall. Two dozen students were waiting in line before the buffet closed its doors until lunchtime. Most were chatting with each other, but a few were rocking on their heels, listening to headphones.
Lucas recognized the elderly woman walking toward him with a cane and swollen ankles. “Would you like to go ahead of us, Professor Atkins?” he asked her.
She smiled, but her saggy skin camouflaged most of the grin. “Why, thank you, young man.”
Lucas moved his brother aside to let the woman waddle past. It took her a good thirty seconds, giving Lucas plenty of time to sample her aroma: a powerful combination of hair spray and Bengay. All she was missing was blue hair and support hose.
Lucas waited for her to move ahead before whispering into Drew’s ear, “I wonder if she knew Columbus?”
Drew smiled through a partially held-back laugh, then said, “Maybe one of us should go find Trevor and let him know we’re stuck in line.”
“I’m assuming that someone is me?”
“Wow, that’s awfully nice of you, brother. I’ll stay here and keep our place in line.”
Lucas found their Swedish lab assistant, Trevor Johansson, sitting at a table near the back of the dining area. His 6’ 7” friend was wearing a weightlifting belt and workout clothes. Trevor’s wet clothes clinged to his well-defined body, reeking of perspiration.
Lucas saw four plates overflowing with fruits and vegetables sitting in front of Trevor. “Having a little snack, are we?”
Trevor responded, his Swedish accent thick. “Ja, hungry. Vawnt some?”
“No, thanks. I’m not a big fan of fruit. I’ll grab something else.”
Each time Trevor took a bite, his biceps came alive as the twisted cords of muscle and vein stretched the skin to the point of eruption. Drew was the only other person Lucas knew with arms close to that size.
Trevor opened an issue of Olympic Coach magazine and turned to the table of contents. His healthy-sized fingers struggled with the periodical’s thin paper.
“You’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?” Lucas asked.
“No. I stay here.”
Trevor flipped to an article with photos of two male wrestlers.
“Are any of your old friends still on the team?”
“Ja. They do vell. Two gold medals and silver.”
“Do you
miss it?”
“Ja, very much.”
“Did they ever apologize for botching your drug tests?”
Trevor stopped chewing for a moment. He looked upset.
Lucas scrambled to change the subject. “Uh, did you order your tickets yet for the twenty-fifteen games in Orlando?”
“Tampa Bay. Ja, tickets ordered.”
“Sorry, my bad. Shows you how much I know about the Olympics. I might have to actually watch some of the events this time, since our country’s hosting it.”
Trevor only grunted before scooping up another spoonful of mixed fruit.
Lucas had known Trevor for almost two years and had eaten with him countless times. He knew it was pointless to try to carry on a conversation with his lab assistant once Trevor started replenishing his calories. Trevor was on the other side of thirty, but there certainly wasn’t anything wrong with his appetite; a byproduct, no doubt, of his over-charged metabolism.
Trevor had started his academic career late but held twin doctorates in physics and computer engineering. Lucas was intimidated by his friend’s sheer size and would take odds that Trevor was probably the largest scientist on the planet. Even though Trevor was assigned to their team as his underling, Lucas never really felt comfortable about it. Trevor was almost nine years older than he was, and he often wondered how his Swedish friend felt about working for—as some of the other researchers called him—a grubby-faced youngster. Trevor never gave him any indication there was an issue, but Lucas was cautious nonetheless.
“Okay, then. I guess I should get back to Drew. I just wanted to let you know we’re here, but it may take a few minutes to get through the line.”
Lucas returned to the cafeteria’s door and saw that Drew was surrounded by three burly students wearing rugby-style shirts and socks. Each stranger was at least six feet tall and carried twice his muscle mass. The tallest stranger, who sported a Mohawk-style haircut, grabbed the handles on the back of Drew’s wheelchair and shoved it with force toward the back of the line. The chair wobbled to the right as it shot across the floor, sending the upper half of Drew’s body over the left armrest
Chapter 3
Resolve
Lucas rushed over to Drew. “Are you okay?”
Drew only nodded, though it wasn’t convincing.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
“Those guys cut in front.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lucas said, returning Drew to his former position in line. He stood in front of the tallest rugby player, taking a defensive position. The skin across his forehead tightened as a warm sensation swelled within his cheeks. “Keep your goddamn hands off my brother!”
The rugby player moved a step closer, grit his teeth, and then raised his chin. “Oh, yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”
Lucas reciprocated by standing toe-to-toe with the stout man and pushing in close to his face, looking him dead in the eye. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.”
A slender, redheaded security officer appeared from around the corner and pulled Lucas away from the rugby player. He stood in between the two would-be combatants with a hand pressed against both of their chests. "Someone care to explain?"
"These assholes cut in line," Lucas replied, fixing his shirt collar. The officer looked vaguely familiar, but Lucas couldn't place him. He figured he must have seen the older man around campus somewhere.
Two British students waiting in line behind them agreed. “Yes, they jumped the line in front of all of us.”
The officer told the rugby players, “I think you should leave, now. I don’t want to see you here for the rest of the day. And next time, wait in line like everyone else.”
The brutes complained to the officer before finally leaving the cafeteria and walking upstairs. They maintained eye contact with Lucas the entire way. Two of the men mouthed something quietly before flipping him the bird.
Lucas crossed his arms and put his trembling hands under his sweat-soaked armpits.
The officer told Lucas, “Just because they cut in front of you is not a reason to get physical.”
“You’re absolutely right, Officer. I overreacted.”
“Next time, just ignore them. A few extra minutes in line aren’t worth a trip to the medical center.”
“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” He waited for the officer to disappear around the corner before asking Drew, “Did you see the size of those guys? They would have kicked my ass six ways from Sunday.”
Drew nodded. “Maybe we should eat someplace else tomorrow.”
Lucas followed his brother through the buffet line, carrying both of their food trays to Trevor’s table and put them down. He removed one of the chairs to allow Drew to scoot his wheelchair under the table. Lucas sat in between Drew and Trevor.
“Sorry we’re late again,” Lucas told Trevor. “We got delayed by a bunch of soccer hooligans.”
“They were rugby players,” Drew said.
“Rugby, soccer, same difference.”
Trevor glanced at both of them but did not respond. He kept on eating one of the last remaining items—a large clutch of seedless grapes. One of the grapes squirted its juice across Lucas’ tray.
“You ready for lab tonight, Trevor? Did you fix that programming bug?” Lucas asked, watching Drew rearrange his chow in alphabetical order, carefully spacing each food group a precise distance from the others.
“Ja. No more system crash.”
“Good thing, because they’re taking down the mainframe tomorrow for maintenance. After tonight, we won’t have computer access again until late Sunday.”
“Isn’t tonight when the new lab tech arrives?” Drew asked.
Lucas loathed the documentation requirements of their research. “I hope so. We could use the help.”
“It’s too bad Gracie graduated. I really liked her. She was nice.”
A smile grew on Trevor’s lips as he shoveled in another spoonful.
Lucas had been glad to see Gracie leave. She was always staring at him as if he were deformed in some way. She was a quirky young woman who seemed to twitch and prance when she got nervous, but he had to admit she was an excellent assistant. "Let’s hope the E-121 material gets here soon. If we have to keep running simulations, I’m going to go Bundy on somebody.”
Trevor nodded, then put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder and squeezed gently. It was clear Lucas wasn’t the only one tired of waiting for the Navy to deliver.
He saw an abandoned newspaper sitting on a neighboring table. “Drew, could you hand me that paper over there? I want to see if the Board of Regents voted to increase the tuition again—only one more semester to go, brother.”
“You’re lucky you’re done. I’ve still got a full load to get through,” Drew said, handing the paper to Lucas.
“Yeah. Right. You’ll ace them without breaking a sweat; you always do. I was the one who had to study my ass off.”
“At least you’re getting a steady paycheck. I’m still working for free.”
“How about I trade you my puny paycheck for your photographic memory?”
“Fine by me. I would rather work in the lab than study, anytime.”
Lucas opened the paper and scanned through the articles while they finished breakfast. His mind quickly wandered, dreaming about Drew’s graduation day when his brother would receive his PhD degree, and then be allowed to join their anti-gravity project as a paid physicist. He smiled, thinking about his mother sitting in the audience, watching Drew roll up to the podium after hearing his name announced by the university president. She cried at Lucas’ graduation ceremony and figured she’d do the same for Drew. Too bad Dad didn’t live long enough to see them both graduate with honors.
* * *
That evening, Lucas and Drew cut across the street just west of the Student Union, headed to the John Koehn Memorial Science Lab for their nightly shift.
The science lab’s exterior was like its neighboring buildings, red-bricked, and s
haped akin to an oversized chalkboard eraser. Each floor was outlined by a protracted series of evenly spaced, metal-grated windows giving it a 1950s industrial look.
Lucas could hear the grind of motorized gears overhead while walking through the building’s courtyard. Above him was an 8.4-meter binocular telescope being repositioned along the building’s roofline. The $136 million telescope was the pride of the Astronomy Department. Funds for its construction had been raised by Dr. D.L. Kleezebee, Dean of the Astrophysics Department.
“Looks like they finally got that thing operational. Kleezebee must be pleased.”
“Speaking of Kleezebee, there he is,” Drew said, pushing his wheelchair forward with both hands.
“Where? I don’t see him.”
“He’s to the right, behind the flower bed.”
Lucas leaned to his right to see beyond the rose bushes blocking his view. His mentor was wearing his usual attire, blue coveralls and an orange-colored flannel shirt, standing bent over with one foot resting on the top of a short, cement wall.
As they moved closer, Lucas realized Kleezebee was talking on a cell phone. It was partially hidden by a frazzled gray beard that stretched down to the middle of his chest. His boss was holding a lit cigar in his other hand.
“Jesus, I can already smell that thing from here.”
“I can’t believe he gets away with it,” Drew replied.
“Seriously, who’s going to stop him? Certainly not us.”
“Still, it’s against the law.”
“Never gonna happen, little brother. They would rather look the other way than give up all the money he raises.”
Lucas intended to stop and ask his boss about their new lab tech, but changed his mind when he overheard Kleezebee’s side of the conversation. He knew first hand not to stand in the way of that flannel-covered tornado, once it got rolling.
“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. You don’t know the first thing about it. Trust me, I’ve been at this for thirty years and it’s perfectly safe. Besides that, the rest of the committee already signed off on it . . .”
