Strange Robby

by Selina Rosen

  "So, we've graduated to torture," Spider said dully. She noticed her voice was horse. "You fucking creeps. Don't you get it? You can kill me, but you can't break me."

  "Why are you making me do this?" the short fat man screamed. "I don't want to hurt you. It gives me no pleasure. Give me this man, and I promise you he will not be hurt, either"

  "Unless of course he doesn't do what you tell him." Spider laughed. She licked at her swollen lips. "Then you'll shoot him full of drugs, hang him from the ceiling, and torture him. I can live with my own pain before I could deal with his. That's what makes me different from you. I'm not making you do shit. Whatever you do to me you do of your own free will. I don't see you hanging from a straightjacket being interrogated. On the other hand, whatever I wind up doing will undoubtedly be your fault, because you could have left me alone, and you chose not to."

  The man hit her with the cattle prod. After a while she lost track of how many times. Finally she looked down at the little man with glaring hatred. "I'm not going to scream out his name. I'm not going to scream out at all. You can fry me to a crisp with that fucking thing." She looked at the SWTF man who was dishing out the punishment and said directly to him. "I'm going to take that thing and shove it up your ass. Do you hear me?"

  The fat guy nodded his head indicating to the other man that he should shock her again. The SWTF guy moved a little closer than he had been before. It was a big mistake. Spider jerked quickly. Her foot landed with a resounding thud in the side of the man's head, and he fell to the floor convulsing.

  Spider laughed maniacally. "You don't even know who you're fucking with, but then again maybe you do. In which case, you shouldn't be screwing with me!"

  The scientist knelt beside the now still man on the floor. He checked him, then screamed, "Medic! Medic!" He glared at Spider. "I think you killed him."

  "Let's see . . . I'm hanging from the ceiling and the bastard was hitting me over and over again with a fucking cattle prod . . . No, I don't feel one damn bit of remorse."

  The medics rushed in, put the man on a stretcher and carried him away.

  The scientist looked at Spider and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Just tell me!"

  "Just . . . No!"

  Jason didn't like this. The whole thing stank. He slipped on his gas mask and lobbed the canister into the door he had just picked the lock on. He closed the door and waited.

  "10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1."

  He and Roger went in.

  The gas was still thick, but it would dissipate. By morning there would be no noticeable residue. Jason picked up the canister and pocketed it as he made his way upstairs. He looked in on the parents; they hadn't woken up, and now they wouldn't for at least three hours. He found the boy in his bed and lifted him into his arms.

  He couldn't imagine how he would feel if he woke up and found his son missing. How Josh would feel waking up in some strange place, much less where this boy was going.

  Jason started to carry the boy on out, but then handed him to Roger. Downstairs and out of the house the lab coats took the boy and shoved him into the van.

  Jason and Roger headed for their car. Their work was over here. They'd be following the van back to headquarters as escort. Jason looked over at Roger who looked visibly shaken.

  "So, how do you feel about your new job now?"

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt

  find it after many days." Ecclesiastes 11:1

  Carrie lay in her empty bed, praying that the phone would ring and it would be Spider. She rolled over and looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. She couldn't sleep and everything sucked. They still hadn't found Spider's car or any trace of her. To make matters worse, the SWTF had seen fit to visit her that afternoon.

  "What the hell do you want?" she'd asked him.

  "Oh we've got what we want, DA Long. Now we just want to make sure that it stays in good health. I think that's in both of our interests."

  "What is that supposed to mean, Mr . . . "

  "Deacon, the name is Deacon, and I thought that was really pretty plain."

  "You're saying you have Spider," Carrie said. "This is insane! I don't know what you lunatics are up to, but I can by God guarantee . . . "

  He was clicking his tongue then. "Oh, come now, all this name calling doesn't suit you. As for threats . . . Well, we both know how hollow those are since I hold all the cards."

  Carrie sighed. The bastard was right. He had everything. He knew what the hell was going on, and she didn't have any idea, and he had Spider.

  "That's better. Now, if you ever want to see the object in question . . . "

  "Is there any chance of that?" Carrie asked with a lump in her throat. Mad at herself for showing the weakness that she knew he was counting on. "Because if there isn't, why am I even talking to you?"

  "There's a very real chance if you play your cards right."

  "And how do I do that? After all, as you just pointed out I have no cards."

  "You quit looking for Spider Webb. If anyone asks, she's gone to visit some old army buddies."

  Carrie nodded silently then looked up at him. "Why are you ruining our lives?"

  The man's manner changed then, and he looked almost sorry. "Because a handful of stupid people think they have the right to make decisions for the whole world, and the rest of us are powerless to stop them. It's easier if you learn not to give a damn, Sir." With that he got up and left.

  No guarantees, but she called off the search. That didn't mean she was going to quit looking, it just meant she wasn't going to be so obvious about it.

  She rolled over again. She could still smell Spider on the blankets and pillows. She hit the bed with her fist.

  "Spider! Where the hell are you!" She buried her face in Spider's pillow and cried till she fell asleep.

  She woke with a start before the alarm had gone off. The light was just creeping into the room, and she didn't have to piss. She knew some noise had woke her up. She rolled over, sat up, opened the drawer on the bedside table, and took her gun out. She heard a car backing out of the driveway, pulled the gun from its holster and cocked it before running to the window. She could just make out the car as it left the driveway, but in the dim light couldn't have made out the make or the model. She did know it wasn't Spider's rental, it had been white, and this car was a dark color maybe even black.

  She grabbed her comlink and strapped it on her wrist then slowly and carefully left her room, checking all the upstairs rooms first before going downstairs to do the same thing. She found a Metallica CD sitting on the rug just inside the front door. Someone had no doubt pushed it through the mail slot. She walked over and cautiously picked it up. She removed the tape and slowly lifted the lid, half expecting to find a smashed flat body part. Inside was a CD marked with the words, "Dammit Tommy I told you not to open this," in Spider's handwriting.

  Carrie was pretty sure that Spider wouldn't want her to see it, either.

  The road was worse than he remembered it. Of course it had twenty years to deteriorate, too. Still, it was a rental car he never planned to return, and he didn't really care what happened to it. He finally reached a part of the road bad enough that he had to stop. He pulled off the road and into the brush as far as he dared and parked. Laura must have been really wiped out from her injury. They had put her seat back and even the rough ride hadn't woke her up.

  He found the sleeping bags and covered himself and Laura, letting her keep both pillows. It would get cold tonight. He looked out the window at the stars. It was clear; it was beautiful.

  Whatever else, he and Laura would be safe now.

  He wished he could be sure where Spider was.

  He hoped he'd done the right thing having Bud take the disk to Carrie instead of having him put the information on the web as Spider had instructed. He was working under the assumption that Spider was still alive, and that she could make it through whatever-the-hell was happen
ing. If she did, and everything she had told him was true, she'd be condemned anyway if what was on that CD got out. He hoped that Carrie would know what to do with the information on that disk.

  He wished he had any idea at all of what was going on back in Shea city, what if anything had happened to Spider.

  That was when he realized just how cut off he was. No phone, no comlink. They had radio, but that wouldn't tell him what was happening with Spider. He'd have to get out, go in somewhere and find out. But that would have to wait till he had hidden Laura safely away, until after things had cooled down a little.

  He crunched down into the sleeping bag and sighed. It was warm and he was tired. He could worry about the rest of the world tomorrow; tonight he needed to sleep.

  Her little "escapade" as they called it had gotten her sedated again. When she woke up this time the thing was back on her head, she was chained by the ankles to something she couldn't see, and her hands were cuffed behind her back. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from being in the same position for so long, so she sat up with no small effort and pretended not to notice the thing on her head.

  "I'm hungry! Do you have it in your heads to starve me?" she asked.

  Nothing. Not a murmur. She knew what they were doing now. Sensory deprivation.

  She had no idea how many hours passed without contact. No one spoke to her. No matter how many times she told them she knew what they were doing they didn't stop doing it.

  Finally the creep asked. "Would you like the helmet off?"

  "No. Don't care," Spider said and rocked back and forth humming a tune.

  "Wouldn't you like to see, too eat, to be a part of the world around you?"

  She laughed then. "Ah! But I've never really been part of the world around me, have I? If you're asking me If I want to come out and play, the answer is no."

  "Goddamn it!" he screamed. "Why are you making this so hard?"

  "Why are you being such a weenie? The fucking Iraqis tortured me for five weeks and you're getting tired after a couple of days. At this rate it looks like you'll crack before I do."

  She heard him walking away. The silent treatment again. She lay down and went to sleep.

  When she woke up again someone was taking the helmet off her head. She tried to head butt the person taking the helmet off and got tazed for her troubles.

  "Ouch! That smarted."

  With the helmet off her head she looked around. Everyone was way out of reach. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, although it was hard to say if it was because of the sleep, the deprivation helmet, the tazing, or all the fucking drugs. Everyone was leaving the room. It made her wonder if she was free. She jumped up, started to run after them, came to the end of her tether, and fell with a clatter of chains to the floor. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling.

  "Now that was fucking stupid."

  She heard someone crying. She turned and saw the back of what she assumed from the size and the haircut was a small boy.

  "Ah, come on . . . What are you twisted fucks up to now!" Spider swore, getting to her feet.

  "Turn around, Mark, she won't hurt you," the man said from the control booth.

  "Don't turn around; it's a trick," Spider said. "They aren't your friends."

  "I know that!" the boy screamed back. "Don't you think I know that?"

  "Do what we tell you, boy," the man ordered.

  "This shit isn't going to work," Spider started. "You twisted bastards aren't . . . " The boy turned around to face her, and she jumped back and screamed at the men behind the mirror. "That isn't Scott! Do you think I'm an idiot? My brother was a grown man when he died. You should know that—you killed him."

  The man laughed. "You're right, this boy isn't your brother, Spider. The boy is your son."

  Spider walked as close to the boy as the eight-foot chains on her ankles would let her. She looked at him, and as she did the dreams and the memories flooded back in on her.

  The doctors and the lab coats, all that poking and prodding. It all made sense now. She fell to her knees and stared at the boy. She had no doubt that what they said was true; she could almost feel her blood coursing through him.

  "All these years, the nightmares . . . You bastards were harvesting the eggs from my body," she hissed.

  The head scientist walked in then. "So, you believe me, then."

  "Whether what you are saying is true or not, I have no bond to this boy. I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. If you mean to torture him to death to get me to talk, then kill the boy and have it over with."

  The boy cried loudly and made a run for the open door, where one of the SWTF guys grabbed him.

  "The boy means nothing to me." Spider stared past the fat fuck into the hallway behind the door. She could feel the other guy standing in the doorway. He was scared, scared to be so close to the experiment, and he hated the fat guy. A gentle push—just add to the hatred that was already there. She'd never tried it without speaking except up close, but when the guy turned an expressionless face to her she knew she'd broken through. She wasn't going to try anything big just now, but maybe she could play this card later.

  "That's why we're going to allow you some time alone together. To get to know each other," he said.

  "It won't work," Spider said. "I'm not too overly sentimental when it comes to kids—mine or anyone else's. Besides, if you've made this one, you've made a dozen just like him."

  "The children of the program are so funny." The scientist picked the boy's chin up and looked into his face as the security guard tried to hold the squirming boy still. The boy jerked his head away. "They are transplanted into a suitable candidate in the embryo state. No one—not the children—not the surrogate mother and father—nor anyone else should be able to figure out that they are not with their proper parents. Yet all of the children of the program know that they are not with their true parents. Isn't that right, Mark?"

  "You go to hell!" the boy cursed.

  "When you look at this woman, you can tell that she's your real mother, can't you?"

  "Leave me alone!" Mark screamed.

  "Why don't you leave the boy alone?" Spider said.

  "Do you want to tell us who the Fry Guy is?"

  "I've told you a million times. I don't know who the Fry Guy is."

  "Why do you insult my intelligence!" he yelled.

  Spider screamed back. "Because it would be wrong to insult your face!"

  Mark started to laugh. So did Spider. The scientist's face got redder, and he stomped out of the room. The SWTF man threw the boy back in and stomped out after the scientist.

  Spider jumped to her feet and managed to catch the boy with her body before he could make contact with the floor. Now Spider would have sworn she didn't have a maternal bone in her body, but as the boy's flesh met hers, there was a knowing and a one-ness that she had never felt with anyone before. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the boy was, in fact, her son.

  She waited for him to steady himself, and then moved quickly away from him.

  Mark turned around and looked at her.

  She looked away. The last thing she wanted them to know was that she had any feelings at all for him.

  "Are you . . . Are they telling the truth?" he asked.

  "About me being your biological mother?" Spider asked sitting down. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she was going to vomit.

  "Are you?" he asked.

  "I think so. Yes," Spider said. "We're an experiment." She looked up at the window. "You, me, and a whole lot of other poor fucks out there. They believe they own us; that we belong to them, and that therefore they can do whatever they like to us."

  Spider looked up at the window and then down at the floor. She concentrated, and then slowly and carefully she started to move her cuffed hands up her back.

  Mark sat down, close to her. "Why?"

  "Quiet, boy, you'll break my concentration," Spider said quietly.

  "What the hell is
she doing?" Don asked Fritz.

  Fritz couldn't be bothered to answer; he was too busy watching.

  Spider Webb walked her hands up her back and then over her head till her hands were in front of her. Then she slowly manipulated one hand out of the cuffs and started on the other.

  "We have to stop her!" Don said. "She'll be loose!"

  "I don't think she can get her feet loose," Fritz said. "She is amazing. Is she not amazing?"