Chapter 7

  The first day back to work and after their shift, Richard and Thomas went to the Flavour Diner and sat in their booth. Unlike the co-workers in his department, the staff behind the counter missed him. Or maybe they missed his money. He hoped not. It would suck if the sweet smile Ronnie flashed him as he passed her was fake and she only wanted his tip money.

  What the hell am I doing? he asked himself.

  Amelia was still sitting on the coffee table where he could stare at it all day until he fell asleep. The hollow ache of grief continued to ravage his body. And rightly so. He loved her. Still loved her. So what was he doing enjoying a smile from a beautiful waitress?

  “Hey, guys,” Ronnie said after they sat down. Her hands were in her pocket and she rocked back and forth on her flat sneakers. She stared at Richard, smiling, sympathetic. “Missed you, Richard. How are you feeling?”

  He avoided her eyes and shrugged.

  “Oh, I’m getting along,” he said. “It’s hard.”

  “I can’t imagine the pain you must be going through. From the way you talked about your wife, I sensed you two were really connected by heartstrings. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Ronnie patted his hand. Pressure in his throat tried to choke him. He took a deep breath to avoid sobbing.

  “Thank you, Ronnie.”

  “And your return will be good for Thomas’s diet,” she said, her voice lighter. “You believe he was eating two meals since you were away?”

  Thomas slapped his hand on the table in mock anger.

  “You were not supposed to tell him that,” he shouted. “It was my new grief diet. Psychically, I was eating for you. Trying to get you stronger. I believe it worked. After all, you’re here in front of us.”

  “That must have been quite the sight,” Richard said, smirking. “I guess it’s good I came back before he ate himself to death.”

  “It is,” she said. “We missed you. I missed you.”

  “Thanks. Um, I missed this place, too.”

  Ronnie left with their order. Like clockwork, Thomas leaned over and watched her butt disappear behind the counter.

  “Would you stop it,” Richard said, laced with laughter. “You’re like a diseased dog.”

  “She was flirting with you,” he said. “Big time.”

  “I’m married. Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I’m not saying you have to ask her to marry you or grind with her on the counter.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “Just that...I don’t know. She likes you. You can be friends. You can’t have enough friends in your situation.”

  “You’re all the friends I need,” he said. “Besides, where would she fit.”

  “Damn, did you make a fat joke?”

  “Just a little one.”

  “I’ll let it go since you’re smiling,” Thomas said. “Now what the hell has been bothering you all morning.”

  “You think something is bothering me?”

  “Yeah. You seemed distracted out there. You even went over the curb a few times and almost side-swiped a car I ticketed. As awesome as it would have been for you to damage that BMV, it wouldn’t be like you. You’re too precise.”

  Richard nodded and rubbed his tired face. His sleep schedule had not worked out as expected. Since he read the spam letter, sleep avoided him. If anyone could offer perspective maybe it was Thomas.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Something is bothering me. I got this spam mail the other day.”

  “Porn?”

  “No.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Shut up and listen,” Richard said. “It...shit, maybe you should read it yourself.”

  He took out his cellphone and opened his email app. Once the saved letter was up, he passed it to Thomas. The large man read it and flinched.

  “This is fucked up,” he said, passing it back to Richard.

  “No, kidding.”

  “You think it’s true?”

  “I don’t know. It could be some kind of prank. Or hacker scam. But they offered no links and the email is valid as far as I can tell. It’s not the kind of email that was cloned to make it appear official. Just a regular freemail server.”

  “And what’s with the numbers at the bottom?”

  “182012.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “It’s code,” Richard said. “I searched it on the net and found it on a slang site. You know how they used to say 1312 back in our great grandparents’ day? Well this one stands for RTL.”

  Thomas shrugged and shook his head. He wasn’t understanding.

  “Right-To-Life,” Richard whispered.

  “Ohh,” Thomas said, nodding.

  “I checked their website and saw that the domain they used for email is also Freemail, but they don’t use those numbers for any of their contacts. At least, not on the ones listed on their page.”

  “Okay. So maybe it’s legit.”

  “How can you sound so casual about that?” Richard said. “If it’s legit then it could be true. Our son, my son, could be alive.”

  “I meant, maybe the organization really sent it to you, not that what they said was true. These Right-To-Lifers are nuts. Terrorists. Why would the government lie about not exterminating the babies? And if they didn’t, then where the hell are they? Running congress?”

  A wave of fresh exhaustion consumed Richard.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I have a strong feeling that they might be telling the truth.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Thomas asked.

  “Here you go, guys,” Ronnie said, placing their order on the table. “Make sure Tommy doesn’t eat yours. We have to get him back on track.”

  “I’m afraid, Thomas has been off the rails all his life.”

  Richard smiled, Ronnie giggled, and Thomas stuck his tongue at them. She told them to enjoy and walked off. The two men dug into their breakfast.

  “I don’t know,” Richard said. “I guess there are a thousand things I can do.”

  “Report it to the police,” Thomas said, chewing his eggs.

  “Yeah, but what if it’s not from them. They could do an investigation on the organization and ruin them.”

  “Really? You’re worried about ruining a terrorist organization?”

  “Would you stop calling them that,” Richard almost shouted.

  Thomas saw the anger on his friend’s face and fell into regret.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just what everyone calls them.”

  “I understand,” Richard said. “I’m sorry, too. Ever since this email, I feel like...Is our son alive? If so, where the hell is he?”

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “How about this? We’ll drop by their offices today. Right after we eat. You can ask them about it.”

  “You think they’ll confess to it? The letter makes it sound like they have classified information.”

  “They obviously want to talk about it. Anyone could very well respond to the email.”

  “No way I would do that,” Richard said. “The NSA or some other agency could track me. Better that they know I received it and didn’t do anything about it.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Thomas said. “We drop by today and find out what the hell is real and what is not.”

  The Right-To-Life building was on 2nd Street between Avenues A and B. A nondescript building of dark gray brick and tinted windows. It blended in well with the few apartment building in the residential section. No sign declaring itself the organization hung in front. Though the first floor was a store front with a picture window and a glass door, it appeared like any kind of business could be inside.

  “Think it’s open?” Richard asked as they stood in front of it. The street was so quiet for mid-morning it appeared abandoned. Everyone should be at work or school by now.

  “You mean, you think they do all their business under the cover of night?” Thomas asked, catching his breath. They took the bus down but the closest it could drop them off was a few blocks away. A few long and torturous blocks for the heavy man. “Someone must be awake.”

  Thomas grabbed the metal rail on the door and pulled it open. He smiled at Richard and stepped inside. Richard tensed up and followed him.

  The office was...an office. Nothing sinister about it. A desk that blocked the way to a door that led deeper into the building and probably to the other floors. A few chairs lined along the window made the waiting area. A water cooler and a small television. No targets or maps detailing future raids, riots, or explosions. Not that Richard was expecting such evidence. He was sure Thomas was hoping to find it.

  Since receiving the email Richard researched the Right-To-Life organization. It was founded twenty-five years ago by Michelle Herz. She too suffered the loss of a deformed baby and, instead of falling into a life-long depression, she was determined never to have anyone suffer like she had, to change the laws for the people who wanted to raise their children no matter how they were born. Richard related to the manifesto on the website. He was tempted in submitting his email for the official newsletter that would inform him of future protests and updated information.

  A woman in her mid-twenties with long brown hair draped over her shoulders sat behind a metal desk covered with folders and a desktop computer. She appeared professional in a dark red blouse buttoned to the top and red thick-framed glasses on her nose. She stopped typing on the keyboard and smiled at the new visitors.

  “Good morning, gentleman,” she said with a sweet voice. “Welcome to the offices of Right-To-Life. How can I help you?”

  Thomas stepped in front of Richard and said, still huffing for air, “Hello, we received an email from this organization and would like to ask a few questions.”

  “Email?” the secretary asked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “An email. Was sent to me. From here.”

  “You mean our monthly newsletter.”

  “Oh, no, lady. This was no newsletter.” Thomas turned to Richard. “Show her.”

  Richard pulled his phone out and opened the email on his mail app. He passed it to the woman. After reading it, she passed it back to him.

  “I’m sorry but that’s not from Right-To-Life,” she said.

  Richard opened his mouth to tell her that he was sorry to bother her but Thomas said, “Lady, it’s signed by them.”

  “Wasn’t it signed by numbers?”

  “Yeah, it’s code for you guys.”

  “Come on,” Richard said, leaning into Thomas. “Let’s go.”

  “I assure you that the email you showed me did not come from here.”

  “Maybe you don’t know about it because you’re low on the hierarchy?”

  She frowned.

  “The staff has complete transparency. I am the gatekeeper here. I would know about it if they did send it to you.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. As you can see it’s a disturbing email.”

  She shrugged.

  “Why don’t we talk to your boss about it,” Thomas said. “Is she here?”

  “Ms. Herz?” she asked, surprised. “Yes, she’s here but she has a full schedule.”

  “Surely, she can make time for two potential volunteers.”

  “Mr. Frank Vile handles recruitment.” She turned to her computer and typed a few strokes. “Would you like to make an appointment with him? It seems he is free next week on this day and time.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said, defeated and slumped. “I’ll make it. My name is Thomas Jones .”

  She typed it in and said, “Good. This time next week. You can ask all your questions then and he will be glad to handle them. Though, he will give you the same answers I did.”

  “Thank you,” Richard said, taking his friend’s arm and pulling him away. “We appreciate your time.”

  Outside and down the block, Richard asked, “So now what?”

  “We wait,” Thomas said. “Hang in there, buddy.”

  Chapter 8

  The intense humid heat woke her up, then the sharp intense pain. Like the heat, it consumed her whole body. Victoria Channel arched her back and moaned. Her limbs were free from bonds. She could roll off the single bed and run away but plaster casts restricted her right arm and left leg. Her chest was tightly wrapped to hold her aching ribs together. Bandages covered her busted nose, preventing her from breathing through it. A large purple and yellow bruise took up most of her forehead. She was glad there were no mirrors in the room to see all her pain.

  Remembering what happened to her last, she sobbed. Her body dropping like a rock as she screamed. The infinite blackness consumed her. After a while, it felt like she was still and the atmosphere was whipping up around her. Then she blacked out, which was for the best. When her body hit the water, her bones shattered.

  The room wasn’t five stars. Besides the bed she laid on, the metal shelving built in the cracked white walls was filled with medical supplies. Small boxes of bandages and sterilizing pads. She even made out large boxes of small disposable syringes. A chair waited in the corner and a rank breeze blew in from the bare open window. Unfortunately, it was the only comforting thing in the room.

  “Hello?” Victoria croaked through her dry throat. “Somebody?”

  She had to be in the wastelands under the cities in the sky. Or hell. Oh, how she wished she was in hell.

  But, no. She couldn’t be rescued from hell. Rocco was looking for her. He called the police and reported her attempted murder by the brother of the senator. God, how stupid was she? He was not a brother to anyone. She doubted he was even invited to the party? Or was he a wealthy freak into seeing beautiful women fall to their death?

  Anger thrust through her body. She wanted to kill this brother that fooled her. Her! Victoria Channel. The most beautiful and important woman in the world. A woman who brought such pleasure to all the classes, all the ages.

  She screamed again, her only release.

  The door opened and something stepped inside. With the wrinkled short sleeve shirt, baggy pants, and short blond hair, it could be confused for human. But the rest of it? The yellow and orange patches of scales that occupied its exposed skin, its face. The black, glossy eyes. The scuba mask strapped to its small mouth and nose that sucked in a gurgling liquid fed from the two tanks that once held oxygen on its back. No. Not human at all.

  Victoria shivered in fear and tried to move but she was helpless in front of the sight.

  “Get away from me,” she shouted.

  The five-foot, eight-inches tall creature glanced at Victoria and held its patched hand up as if to say hello. Relaxed, it turned to the shelving and prepared something. Its back blocked Victoria’s view.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  The humanoid turned around and revealed the small needle filled with a clear liquid. It flicked its finger against the syringe to release the air bubbles.

  “No,” Victoria shouted. “Get that away from me! What is that?”

  The creature picked up an alcohol wipe and brought everything to the bed.

  “Give me this arm.”

  The voice was calm and masculine. Human. But where did it come from? Not the creature whose mouth was covered by that clear plastic mask. She made out a nub of a tube between its lips. It was probably biting down on it to seal whatever liquid it was breathing in.

  The creature pointed to her free arm. A patch of purple at the crook of the elbow. They’d been feeding her drugs since she got here, she realized.

  “Please.”

  “What’s in the needle?” Victoria asked.

  “Heroin.”

  “What?” she croaked. “No! Get that shit away from me. You get away from me!”

  “It is all we have left for pain killers. A low dose. Just enough for the pain.”

  Victoria lifted her arm and bend it towards her body, trying to hide the bruised skin.

  “No,” she whined.

  The creature grabbed her arm and twisted it back into place. Victoria squirmed and whined. It was all she could do in her position. The creature wiped the spot with the alcohol wipe and injected the needle. It didn’t hurt at all.

  “There. You should feel better soon.”

  The creature gathered its garbage and dropped it in a small plastic pail at the corner. It was right. She started to feel better. A warm, rainbow wave consumed her body and mind. Her eyes grew heavy. She hummed in satisfaction. She soon fell asleep, not knowing if the creature left the room or watched her.

  Chapter 9

  Richard Smith’s meeting with Right-To-Life was a few days away and, as he expected, his anxiety was up. He barely slept through the day after work and his mind was scattered. Even Thomas saw that something was wrong with his friend and co-worker. Richard avoided accidents and driving onto the curb but he also had a lot of close calls.

  “C’mon, man,” Thomas told him once during a break. “You got to keep it together.”

  He knew Thomas was right. Richard wanted to play it cool. He wanted to act like Thomas who promised to go to the meeting with him.

  “Of course, I’m going,” he said. “I made the appointment. I’m curious about what they have to say about the email, too.”

  “Aren’t you nervous?” Richard asked. “At all?”

  Thomas shrugged.

  “I guess,” he said. “Or maybe I’m too stupid to realize that we could be in any danger.”

  The danger. What would the government say about Richard meeting with a group that the majority of the public and media considered terrorists? He doubted that Right-To-Life would share his appointment with the city officials. But the police or Feds had to be watching the building or tapping into the wi-fi to record and track any calls, emails, or data.

  “It will be fine,” Thomas said when they finished their break.

  Fine. Okay. Richard made that his mantra. Everything will be fine.

  Would it be fine if he found out his child was alive?

  Could he live on knowing the child was out there growing up without him, without knowledge of a mother and father?

 

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