by Sean Platt
“You don’t have to do anything,” Luca said. “You can close your eyes, but you probably won’t have to. I like to close mine.” Luca closed his eyes as he finished his sentence.
Boricio had no idea whether he would have had to close his eyes or not, since the millisecond he did he was already somewhere else.
He opened his eyes to a chain link fence, a few feet away from where the two of them were standing beneath a stop sign, with patches of grass growing through the cracks in the sidewalk around it.
“Where are we?” Boricio said.
Luca pointed to the chain link. “That’s my old school.”
“Wait ... what?” Boricio turned to Luca in disbelief, and then up the puffy, white clouds in the perfect California summer sky. “This is Las Orillas?”
Luca nodded again, then turned around and curled his fingers into the chain link, except for his pointer, which was aimed straight at another Luca, who was on a playground pretending like he was Indiana Jones, swinging from a plastic slider, then onto the rubber mat while loudly humming the theme song. The other Luca sprang up from the mat, then ran to the back of the line of kids, laughing.
Boricio shook his head. “It’s not possible.” He pointed to his chest. “Can he see us?”
Luca nodded. “If he looked over, he could. But I think he’s too busy playing. But I talked with my dad . . . or his dad, anyway. He thought I was the other Luca, so I didn’t get caught.”
Luca looked like he might cry, and then said, “But Luca hasn’t seen me. I’m afraid of what will happen if he does. That’s why we have to go now. I just wanted to show you so you could believe me like you wanted to.”
By the time Luca finished his sentence they were standing in his bedroom, even though they’d been sitting on the couch when they teleported away.
Boricio said, “Can you control where you come back?”
There was a light knock on the door. Sarah said, “Are you guys in there?”
“Yup!” Boricio said.
“I could’ve sworn you were downstairs.”
“We were,” Boricio said, “but then we came upstairs.”
He waited a second, then said, “Sorry we didn’t ask first.”
There was light laughter, followed by a long pause, then “Okay,” before Boricio heard Sarah’s slowly fading footsteps.
“How specific can you get with where you come back?” Boricio asked again. “We were downstairs, and now we’re upstairs. How much can you control that?”
“Not sure,” Luca shrugged. “I’ve never really tried. Hold on.”
Luca disappeared. Five seconds later, Boricio heard a pebble slap the window. Boricio ran to the glass, and stared down smiling in disbelief. Luca was downstairs by the tree, standing by it and grinning ear to ear.
A big, beautiful idea bloomed inside Boricio’s brain as Luca vanished and then appeared back in the room in front of him.
Dr. Williams wouldn’t help him. But what if Boricio went to Williams with a vial? Boricio was pretty damned sure he could convince the man to take a chance on Rose then.
But how the hell do I ask Luca to break into Level 7 and steal the vials?
Boricio didn’t even need to ask, though.
The boy was staring at him.
Luca smiled and said, “Yes, Boricio, I’ll get the vials for you.”
TO BE CONTINUED …
::Episode 16::
(Fourth Episode Of Season Three)
“The Variable”
Thirty-Two
Boricio Bishop
Black Island Research Facility
Level 7
September 2011
Morning
ONE MONTH BEFORE THE EVENT …
While most people could be swayed by logic or an emotional appeal, Boricio was starting to think that the only way to open Dr. Williams’ mind was with a crowbar.
He’d gotten the doctor alone in his office and asked him to work his magic again — to please use the vials to create another serum. It had worked with Luca. It would work with Rose.
But Dr. Williams was afraid of incurring the wrath of Boricio’s father, Will.
“He’s not your boss, he’s a consultant,” Boricio had said.
“You know as well as I that if he doesn’t green-light a project, it goes nowhere. I’m lucky to even have a job after what happened with Luca — and that was a success! Imagine if we fail.”
But Boricio couldn’t imagine a world where that would happen.
“I’m losing her,” Boricio said, his voice cracking as he played up his sadness a bit to try and work on Williams’ sympathy. “She’s in constant pain, she’s paralyzed, and her memory is only getting worse.”
“These things take time,” Dr. Williams said. “You have to be patient. This isn’t nearly as pressing as Luca’s situation had been. She is stable and just needs time to heal.”
“Do you know what it’s like to have the woman you love look at you like you’re a stranger?” Boricio asked.
Of course, Dr. Williams didn’t have a response to that, either in words or emotion. His face was nearly blank, in fact. He simply said, “I’m sorry, Boricio.”
Boricio waited him out a moment, allowing the silence to push the Doc into saying more.
“I understand,” Dr. Williams said. “And I want to help you, Boricio. But even if I believed the procedure was safe, which I’m not sure that I do any more, Will Bishop will never allow it. We’ve done so much with the Remedy Project — I’ve done so much with the project — and I can’t risk its future on another of your whims.”
Boricio ignored the slight, though it was hard not to blast back. Instead, he tried a reasoned approach, and played one of two cards he had.
“Healing Rose is in the best interests of the Remedy Project.” Boricio paused, then revealed his second-strongest card. “What if I told you I could get my hands on a vial?”
A sudden streak of red flushed the doctor’s face. Williams said. “We’re not having this conversation.” He cleared his throat, clearly agitated.
Boricio realized he wasn’t just crossing the line; he was dragging his ass like a dog on carpet and smearing a trail of shit along the way.
William’s said, “This is borderline treason, Boricio. I have to ask you to leave now, and to never bring this up again. I hope things change soon, and that we can figure out what’s happening with Luca, and get Rose the help she needs. But in the meantime, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with this topic. You promised no more than five minutes, and we’re now into our 20th.”
Boricio’s second-best card hadn’t worked, so he played one better — and his last.
“I know about the Goliath Project,” he said. “And I know how badly you’d love for Will to sign off on it.” Boricio leaned across the desk. “But he won’t, will he, Doc? Will’s just not much of a team player these days, is he?”
The doctor said nothing.
Boricio leaned back in his seat and continued, “Well, it’s a good thing I am. I know how I can get Will to John Hancock all over the Goliath Project, and I’m confident enough to give you a guarantee that I’ll make it happen. What do you say, Doc?”
Williams shook his head, his eyes as wide as his face was red. Boricio couldn’t tell if he was surprised or angry that Boricio knew about Goliath. Or perhaps he picked up on the subtext — if Williams didn’t help him, he’d make it damned difficult to get Goliath passed through.
“I’m saying the same thing I’ve been saying all along, Boricio — I’d love to help you, but I can’t. Not even with a promise of getting me a vial, or a green light on Goliath. Will has his reasons for refusing your requests, and even if I don’t agree with all of his reasons, it’s my job and responsibility to listen.”
“But it’s not!” Boricio could feel the growl growing inside his voice. “That’s only true if Will genuinely knows better. But he doesn’t. Not this time. He’s not a scientist, right? At least not like you.” Boricio waited
for the flicker of agreement he knew was inside Williams to flash across his face. “And because Will isn’t a scientist, he is impeding the project’s progress by withholding the vials from you and your team, right?”
Williams cleared his throat and repeated the party line. “He has his reasons.”
“What if you could have absolute, unhindered access to the vials?”
Williams shook his head. “No one has that kind of access.”
Boricio pulled one final ace from the inside of his coat, then gently set the vial on the doctor’s desk, the glass cylinder of bright-blue liquid packed in clear plastic to protect it.
Williams stared at the vial, his eyes nearly as wide as his open mouth.
His hand dropped to the desk, hovering an inch above the vial before he quickly snatched back his fingers as if they were centimeters from the fangs of a snake.
Williams stroked his chin, then scratched his head and tugged at his ears, wrestling with something inside him for a long while before finally turning to Boricio and saying, “How . . . how did you get that?”
Boricio laughed, though the laugh was closer to a cackle.
“There are two sorts of secrets, Doc — the kind you want to keep inside because they mean a helluva lot more if they’re never so much as whispered, and the other sort where you wouldn’t dare utter a whisper, even if you wanted to. This one,” he nodded toward the vial, “is both.”
Williams turned his back to the vial, then got up from his desk and began to pace as if his chair had grown too hot to sit in.
Boricio said, “Take it or leave it, Doc. The choice is yours.”
Williams stared at Boricio without saying a word, almost like he was practicing the same sort of in and out, in and out slow breathing Boricio had begun to master over the past few weeks. He finally turned back to his desk and ran his fingers over the vial, his fingers grazing the length of the plastic casing from top to bottom.
“We can’t do this,” he shook his head and whispered. “Can we?”
Boricio had him.
“We can, Doc. That’s why I’m here.”
Two days later …
Boricio and Dr. Williams had been in Rose’s room for nearly 15 minutes. Warm anticipation was burning up and down Boricio’s back as he made small circles on the linoleum behind the doctor. He’d managed to avoid Will during the past two days, and Will was scheduled for his weekly meeting with Sullivan, which usually ran longer than it was supposed to.
The stage was set, but doubt began to sow seeds in Boricio’s head. He tried not to allow it to show, however. If he let his uncertainty show, Rose would get spooked.
It wasn’t doubt so much that the serum would work. He had faith that it would, even if it had some slight side effects as it had with Luca.
But, he wondered, was it fair to inflict those side effects on Rose? What if she teleported to another world like Luca had? She’d be terrified. Or worse, what if she teleported into the middle of a highway at rush hour or something? While Luca had seemed somewhat excited about his new ability, Rose might not see it as a gift, but rather a curse.
So, Boricio was forced to consider if the risk was worth the reward.
Was her life truly so miserable now that it wouldn’t get better in time?
Am I doing this to help her, or am I doing it out of selfishness to have my old Rose back?
The sting of the question caused Boricio to look down at the floor before meeting her eyes again.
Rose’s eyes seemed tiny, silent, and slightly sad, even though they appeared to be missing any true recognition of the men.
She stared at both Boricio and Williams, though mostly Williams, as he took her vitals and ran through every necessary precaution to ensure that her fragile body was aptly prepped to accept the serum he had spent the last 32 hours preparing.
“Are you ready?” Williams turned to Boricio.
Boricio nodded. “Sure thing, Doc. Can I just have a few minutes alone with her before we get started?”
Williams nodded, said, “Of course,” then slipped from her room.
Boricio turned back to Rose. “Hi there,” he said.
She half smiled, then said, “Hi.”
She didn’t sound nearly as uncertain of him as she had been on other days. Something was quiet, but undeniably warmer inside her simple greeting. Perhaps she was remembering more. Or maybe just getting better at faking the responses people expected so she wouldn’t disappoint them.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Boricio smiled, thrilled to hear Rose stringing two words together into a simple question, especially with the genuine curiosity behind it, minutes before she was about to receive the first drops of her certain cure.
“We’re going to make you better now,” Boricio promised.
“What’s wrong with me?”
Like every other time Rose had asked that question, Boricio felt something horribly blunt punching a hole through the center of his heart. He wasn’t sure how many times Rose had asked him already, but he hated the something inside her that wasn’t allowing her to remember his answer. He said, “Nothing’s wrong with you, Sweet Rose. You’re just having a hard time remembering a few things.” He paused, then added, “Like you and me, for example.”
“I remember you,” she said.
His heart dropped so suddenly, Boricio felt as though he was stomping on its beat. Rose hadn’t said anything like that since the accident, not at least without him having spent hours reminding her who he was and getting only snippets back.
“You do?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.
She added, “At least, I sorta do.”
“What do you remember?”
“Water, um . . . boats . . . um, pasta . . . and you.” She paused for 30 seconds or so, though each one felt like more than its share of forever, while she tried to turn a second thought into another full sentence, but couldn’t get the words to tumble from her mouth in any sort of logical order.
Boricio stared at her hard-working face, twisting in concentration as she tried to pull something from her memory’s depths. Her eyes said she found something, but its weight must have been too heavy, because her lips seemed to lose it a second before her eyes returned to their usual vacancy.
Boricio pulled Rose’s hand into the sandwich of his palms, wanting to weep when she didn’t pull it away like had been doing recently. She held his hand like she held his eyes, and for the first time seemed perfectly unafraid.
Boricio didn’t care that he was bald and scarred and ugly as an angry action figure. Fuck the world and all the haters in it. A flawless face was pocked with its own sort of flaws, anyway. The only reason Boricio dripped a drop of care about how he looked was that he couldn't stand looking nothing like the man who used to hear Rose whisper, “I can’t wait to wake up with you tomorrow,” each night before the cool of his pillow sent him to sleep.
“Dr. Williams will be back in a minute,” Boricio said. “And he has something that will make you better. Do you want to be all better Rose?”
She nodded, still holding his gaze, as her eyes filled with something Boricio dared to call hope. “Yes, I want to remember.” Rose surprised Boricio further by adding, “And I want to walk again.”
“You will,” he promised.
Tell her about the risks. Tell her maybe you should both wait. Give it a bit more time.
Tell her!
Before he could give voice to the warnings or ask her again, the door opened and Williams entered the room.
“Are we ready?” he said.
Boricio nodded, as did Rose one second behind him.
Tell him no. You need more time to think about it!
But Boricio couldn’t open his mouth. He’d forced Williams into this position. If Boricio pulled out now, Williams might tell him to fuck off and just run to Will with everything, and they’d lose what might be Rose’s only chance at a normal life. It was now or never, and Boricio couldn’t let fear m
ake the choice.
Williams opened a small, black case, then withdrew a syringe filled with an oddly colored lavender liquid, almost beautiful behind the clear glass. He ejected the last bit of air into a second glass vial, not allowing any of the serum to spill out.
Williams rubbed a swab of alcohol across Rose’s arm, then said, “You’re going to feel a slight prick, but it shouldn't hurt for more than a second. Is that okay?”
Rose nodded, and Williams pressed the syringe to her arm, slowly pushing the plunger until every drop of lavender had disappeared.
Rose squeezed Boricio’s hand during the long minutes of silence that followed, as Dr. Williams paced back and forth in front of the room, waiting for some instant reaction. Boricio wasn’t sure what would happen to signify that the serum had worked. Would she suddenly feel her legs? Would she burst into tears remembering every memory that had been sealed away? Or would the change be more subtle? If so, the Doc might be pacing a while.
Boricio wondered how much longer silence would choke the room, and was surprised when it was Rose — the light in her eyes making a return – who finally broke it.
“Am I supposed to be feeling something?”
Dr. Williams said, “Just give it a few minutes, Rose. The serum has to work through your body.”
Boricio was thrilled at the light in her eyes, the first indication since the accident that someone was home.
“Can I turn on the TV?” she asked.
“Sorry, Rose,” Williams shook his head, “but I want to keep our full attention on this right now. Do you understand why?”
She nodded, but glanced over toward the remote sitting four feet from her fingers on the bedside table. Boricio said, “What does it matter if she’s watching something while we’re waiting to see what happens?”
Before Williams could answer, a smile spread across Rose’s face.
“My legs,” she said. “They feel tingly.”
