by Edward Lee
The dead man was leaning up now, on one hand behind him. His other hand grasped the back of his own head by the hair, angling the broken neck. A few vertebrae crunched as he did this. The dead man was holding his head so to look right at Walter.
Walter’s bladder emptied.
“Sartre was wrong,” the dead man said. “Hell isn’t other people.”
“Huh?” Walter managed to respond.
Then the dead man said, “The showerhead knows more about us than we know about ourselves.”
Walter gaped. “What?”
Then: “Hell is a place, a city. A big city.”
Walter spun toward the EMTs, shouted, “Excuse me! This guy over here! He’s not dead,” but after a moment of dumbfoundedness, he stood still, blinking. When he’d shouted the words, no actual sound came out of his mouth.
“I’ll see you there soon,” the dead man continued. Now he grinned insanely, holding his neck straight.
“See me... where?” Walter stammered.
“In the city.”
Walter stared down, quivering.
“Your destiny awaits,” the man whispered, but now his voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing together.
“What?”
“Embrace your destiny.”
The dead man’s eyes crossed again, and he collapsed back onto the gurney. Walter dropped the clipboard and ran away.
He wouldn’t shoot himself in the head until tomorrow.
Chapter Four
(I)
The Halman Map Library
Laurel, Maryland
Penelope’s orgasm struck with the sign-in clock—at midnight. For a moment it felt like the entire building was shaking, but she knew it was just her, all her desires unlocked yet again. Gary always spent himself quickly—like in a minute or two—which in itself would’ve been aggravating as hell, but he never failed to fulfill the rest of the obligation mechanically, i.e., with certain devices known as “marital aids.” Didn’t matter that they weren’t married, and, Penelope, in truth, preferred this. It got right down to business. Gary had a considerable cache of such battery-driven implements, and tonight, as Penelope lay spread-legged and flattened on the guard room desk—wearing nothing but blue socks—Gary slowly withdrew one of the “toys” he’d brought along, an eight-inch, bump-riddled vibrator molded from translucent-orange rubber which Penelope fondly referred to as “Mr. Bumpy.” She gasped once, in a final blissful hitch, as the device was extracted from her thrumming privates.
“There,” Gary said. “That should simmer ya down some.” He hauled up his Levi’s and loped shirtless to the coffee pot, looking around.
Good God, Penelope thought. I just came like a freight train. And at that moment she felt like she’d just been run down by one. When she tried to get up off the desk, she quit in the middle of the process, still too exhausted from the explosive release of her ecstasy.
Gary lived in a boarding house, so they could never do it at his place, and Penelope lived with her infirm mother, so her place was equally out of the question. The two of them had been dating for about a year ... or, well, perhaps “dating” wasn’t the word. A different transitive verb—one that started with an F—might be a better designation. Penelope’s workplace was about the only spot they could do it, save for rare occasions when either of them might have an extra forty bucks for a night at one of the fleabag motels near the Army base. Gary was unemployed most of the time, having recently gotten out of the Army himself. He’d actually been released short of the finish of his hitch, for urinating in the battalion commander’s coffee pot. The accusation was hard to refute at his court martial, when the JAG prosecutor had shown the court the actual security video of Gary smiling as he completed the act. Thirty days in the stockade and a bad conduct discharge. His only consolation was the fact that the battalion commander had drunk from that pot all day before the crime was reported. As for Penelope, the employment office had gotten her this job when her welfare ran out. She was the night-shift security guard.
Now Gary was poking around with a cup of coffee. He looked down the hall, then looked out the window into the night. “This sure is a weird place you’re working at,” he commented.
He’d said that before, but Penelope never knew what he meant. The small brick building at the end of Soil Conservation Road—the Halman Map Library—was a Maryland Department of the Interior facility, quite unassuming. It occupied the top of a modest hill on an isolated tract of land just off the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. Most of this land comprised a protected nature and wildlife preserve, which Penelope never understood, because there was no wildlife that she could see, and no forests, just open, rolling hills. Penelope could scarcely believe they needed security at all in such a place—who would want to steal maps?—but she needed the job.
At last, she was able to sit up on the desk, still blissfully exhausted. “What’s weird?” she asked, eyeing his butt in the tight jeans. However, it wasn’t necessarily his butt she was most interested in. It was the bumpy orange vibrator sticking out of the back pocket. “It’s just a job, just some place the state needs security.”
“A friggin’ map library?” he questioned. “What kind’a shit is that? I never heard of a map library.”
“They store maps here,” she said. “For the state government. Land grids, maps of sewer lines and gas lines, stuff like that.”
Gary was still perturbed. “Sounds like bullshit to me. That kind’a thing is all computerized these days. And who’s gonna try to steal a bunch of maps anyway? And even if someone did, what are you gonna do? You don’t even have a gun.”
This was true. The company for which she worked was not licensed to arm their guards. She’d never felt threatened here, though. Nothing ever happened, but she saw his point. What if something did? Then she answered, “The other guards have guns.”
“What other guards?”
“The one’s who work downstairs, in the basement.”
“But I thought your security company didn’t issue gun permits.”
“The guards downstairs work for a different company,” Penelope explained.
“A different company? You mean a different security company?” More puzzlement tinted Gary’s already skeptical face. He had a mustache and short, spiky black hair, pocks on his face from acne wars as a teenager. “This is a state building, right?”
Penelope nodded, still just sitting there openly naked. She didn’t really want to talk about her job right now, or maps. She wanted to talk about ... maybe a little more action with Mr. Bumpy.
“Why don’t they have state guards?”
She simply couldn’t figure his inquisitiveness. “Gary, I don’t know ...”
“And, Christ, if those guys come up here and see me, you’ll get fired.”
“They lock themselves downstairs for their whole shift. There’s four of them, and they never come up here except for shift-change. That’s not till eight a.m. I’m pretty sure all they really do down there is sleep.”
Gary noticed the lockers on the side wall, and he immediately opened one.
“Gary! Stay out of there!”
“I’m just takin’ a look.” Shirts, a gym bag, some books. The shirts had sleeve patches that read AHRENS SECURITY. He frowned hard at some of the books: Inside the Vatican, and Revealing Opus Dei and Other Roman Catholic Secret Societies. “The fuck is this?” he immediately objected. “Church books? Security guards don’t read church books, they read Hustler and Penthouse Forum!”
Penelope didn’t know what he was talking about. Was there anything she could do to get his mind off the other guards in the building?
“Honey?” she called. When he turned to face her, she raised her foot, sliding it up the inside of his thigh. Slowly. “I don’t know what you’re all uptight about.” Now her foot was openly rubbing his crotch. “Let’s have some more fun.”
The distraction was sufficient; he didn’t bother looking at the book on the bottom of the pile: Catholic Thesi
s on Exorcism and Demonology. Instead, he grinned down at her, eyes roving her bare breasts. “Want some more whoopie, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He held up the vibrator. “Want some more Mr. Bumpy, huh?”
“Yeah...”
He leaned over and kissed her, a big, wanton, sloppy kiss, all the while his hand straying over her breasts. The sensation left a tingly after-trail across her skin which immediately hardened her nipples. In another moment, there was a soft humming sound: the vibrator was on, and then he brought it gently up the cleft of her sex. Penelope moaned. Jesus, they ought to give the Nobel Prize to whoever invented vibrators. Just one touch relit all her nerves at once; she was sizzling on the desk top. Gary was kissing her neck as he whispered, “Yeah, I know what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you ...” Then he roughly turned her aside so that her legs were hanging off the edge of the desk. He knelt on the floor, casing the vibrator inside her while simultaneously licking around her sex. Penelope was cringing. God, I love it when he does that, she thought between pulses of pleasure. Soon his efforts became more intent, more precise.
He looked up from between her tensing legs and whispered, “Yeah, I’ll give ya what you want, so how about you givin’ me what I want?”
Penelope’s tongue was nearly hanging out of her mouth when she panted, “I’ll do anything you want...” And she would, no matter how crude or debauched. Anything. Anything for more Mr. Bumpy. “Just tell me. Tell me what you want...”
“I want you to show me the basement, where they keep these maps you were talking about.”
What the— She was aghast. “Gary, I can’t do that!”
“What’s the big deal?” He eased Mr. Bumpy out an inch. “You just got done sayin’ you’d do anything I wanted.”
“I don’t have access to the storage lock-up,” she almost whined but she wanted to yell at him: Don’t stop! Put it back in! “I only have one punch station in the basement, in the power room. Everything else downstairs, the other guards worry about.”
“Why?” Out another inch. “That don’t make sense.”
“Gary, I don’t know why. I don’t care! Those are my instructions! I couldn’t take you to the storage area even if I wanted to, ’cos I don’t have a key to the gate. It’s locked from their side.”
“What gate?”
Now she wished she had a gun, so she could point it at him and say Shut up and get back to business! “There’s a security gate downstairs just past the power room, like a chain-link thing. That’s where my jurisdiction ends.”
“Then show me that.”
“No! It’s too risky!”
Gary shrugged, pulled the vibrator all the way out, and stood up. “Guess I’ll be headin’ home now. But don’t worry, I’ll leave Mr. Bumpy. You can party with him by yourself.”
No no no! her thoughts screamed. She could use a vibrator on herself all night long but unless Gary’s tongue came along with it, it wasn’t the same. Don’t you fuckin’ walk out on me, you prick! Don’t you leave me like this! But evidently he was prepared to do that. He had the vibrator on low now, and he stood right next to her, running the humming orange tip from her bellybutton to her right breast. He ran it slowly around the bottom of the breast, then up to delicately encircle the nipple. His other hand caressed her pubis. Penelope was cringing.
“Come on, honey. Just take me down there.”
She could barely concentrate now on what she was saying as the divine sensations coursed through her. Her heart raced. “Why, Gary? What do you care about a bunch of maps?”
Now the vibrator’s tip trailed back down, to her clitoris. “I’m just curious. It sounds like bullshit to me. I don’t think there are any maps down there. I think this place is a front.”
A front? “What are you talking about?”
“I just wanna see for myself is all, gotta see if I’m right.” The fingers of one hand teased her nipples, while Mr. Bumpy slowly slid back and forth over the groove of her sex. Penelope was panting, practically cross-eyed now in her need.
“Just take me down there, just for five minutes. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll light ya up like a pinball machine,” he whispered. “Oh, and look what else I brought—your favorites.” From another pocket, he dangled something else, like dual pendulums right before her eyes. “The electric ben-wa balls.”
That was it for Penelope—the summation of all her ecstasy right there in his hands. “All right, goddamn it!” She hopped off the desk, hauled her uniform and boots back on. “Come on!”
“That’s my girl,” Gary chuckled.
He followed her out as she grabbed her punch clock. The main hall was dark, sterile. Out the front window, Gary spied a great white full moon. But Penelope’s aggravation still percolated. “This is a big pain in the ass, Gary. I don’t know why you’re making me do it.”
“You know me, once my curiosity gets rollin’, it won’t let go.”
“Shit, one of the other guards could see us. Then I’ll be in big trouble.”
“They ain’t gonna see us.”
She pressed the DOWN button on the elevator at the end of the dark hall. The doors hummed—which only reminded her of the vibrator—and then yawned open. “And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—this place being some kind of front.”
“You gotta admit, this whole thing is pretty damn fishy.”
“No it’s not. Jesus. It’s just a damn map library.”
“Yeah, a map library, something I ain’t never heard of—and instead of having state security guards like any other friggin’ state facility, they’ve got not one but two different private guard companies working here, and never mind that it’s a place that doesn’t need guards to begin with. Libraries and shit like that have alarm systems. And that other outfit? Ahrens Security? I ain’t never heard of them.”
“So what!”
“When I got my walking papers from Uncle Fuckin’ Sam, I applied to every single security company in the phone book, and guess which one wasn’t listed?”
The clash of her desires and frustration was infuriating Penelope. He was being ridiculous—like all men. “So what are you saying? That it’s a fake company? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying this joint is a front. I was a SECMAT MP in the Army for over three years. Whenever we’d have to transport sensitive material, or guard something off-post, we’d wear fake civilian security uniforms so no one would know it was military stuff we were guarding.”
That took some spark out of Penelope. She looked oddly over at him. “Really?”
“Really. And I think the same thing’s going in this place. We got four different Army security installations in a ten-mile radius. Fort Meade, Aberdeen, Edgewood Arsenal, and Fort Detrick.”
Penelope maintained the odd look. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So you think—”
“They could be storing anything down here, stuff they don’t want to keep on a known military base. Documents, classified databanks, stuff like that. Or worse, material they want to keep away from government or foreign inspectors.”
“What ... materials?”
Gary splayed his hand. “Stuff we agreed to get rid of by treaty. VX gas, biological weapons formulas, ABM blueprints, neutron bombs. Stuff like that.”
Stuff, Penelope thought and gulped, like that. Was that really what was going on here? Was she unknowingly guarding some secret military vault full of nerve gas cannisters?
“Just ’cos we signed a treaty saying we’d destroy all our neutron bomb warheads doesn’t mean we really did it. That’s just an example. Could be anything, but I’ll bet my next paycheck—if I ever get a next paycheck—that one thing they ain’t guarding here is a bunch of maps.”
The elevator stopped; the door sprung open, showing them another dark hall. But Penelope was really thinking now. All of a sudden, everything Gary was saying made a lot of sense.
“Don’t say anything,” she
whispered. “Stay here till I wave you in.”
Gary remained in the elevator, keeping the doors open with his hand. Penelope walked normally to a door several yards down, unlocked it, then looked quickly behind her. Gary couldn’t see what she was looking at, but he guessed it was another hall that branched off from this one.
Penelope waved him over. He slipped out of the elevator and strode quickly into the room she’d unlocked. In the door was a long narrow chicken-wire window, over which a sign read CIRCUIT BREAKERS. Penelope hurriedly closed the door and turned on a single desk lamp. In another corner a silver key hung from a chain. Penelope turned the key in her punch clock, which logged the time of her round on a tape inside.
Gary looked around. There was the desk, a radio, a little refrigerator, mops and buckets. Several posters adorned the walls: the Redskinettes doing splits, last year’s Playmate of the Year, and Jennifer Lopez embellished by computer-generated nudity. Penelope turned Gary away. “You don’t need to be looking at that.”
“Uh...oh...”
“The janitor uses this for his break room but he’s off-duty at five p.m.”
A single dented file cabinet sat in the other corner, next to multiple fuse panels and power switches. Gary went immediately to the cabinet and began to root through the drawers.
Penelope just shook her head. She remained flushed and sweaty from his teasing upstairs, and frustrated. But her confusion was distracting her desires, which she was brimming with now. “Gary, come on, let’s go back upstairs,” she urged, coming up behind him, sliding her hands about his waist. Then her hands slipped lower. He’s definitely interested, she thought, feeling the evidence. “I showed you downstairs, now let’s go.”
“In a minute,” he grumbled, rummaging through more files.
She could easily see Mr. Bumpy sticking out of his back pocket, and the shape of the ben-wa balls in the other pocket. Her lust was making her dizzy. In truth, she didn’t really care that much about him, only what he could do for her with his toys. It made her feel selfish and greedy, but she didn’t particularly care about that either. He started all of this, so he would damn well finish.
