3 Thank God it's Monday, Page 2

  Jake looked at Macy, her eyes bright and concerned.

  “Mom? Are you alright?” She came over and Clarissa moved toward her mother. Macy hugged Hallie’s leg.

  “Yeah, honey, Mommy’s alright,” he managed.

  She looked up at Jake, her mouth set in a frown of concern.

  “She didn’t shoot someone else, did she?” she asked.

  Children can say some of the most hurtful remarks with such innocence. The truth can be devastating and children, for the most part, deal in truth. Things are so simple when seen through the eyes of a child and an innocent question like Macy’s could illicit a smile or a tear. Or both.

  Jake sighed with relief as Hallie pulled Macy closer and smiled down at her.

  “No, sport. Mommy has not shot anyone yet. Mommy would only ever shoot someone to protect you or your daddy.”

  Macy blinked hard and looked confused.

  “Why would anyone want to hurt Daddy? He’s cool.”

  Jake smiled and ruffled Macy’s hair. With his other hand he stroked Hallie’s back. He was proud of her.

  Hallie looked up at him with amusement.

  “You’d be surprised. Lots of people want daddy.”

  Macy’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  “Really?” She looked to him for confirmation. He shrugged.

  “Nah. Your Mom just wants me to feel loved too,” he explained.

  She shrugged too.

  “Well, I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too, kiddo.” He could not help smiling.

  “Mommy, can we go get ice cream?” Clarissa begged her mother, tugging at her shorts.

  Sarah looked at Hallie with a knowing grin.

  “Your Aunt Hallie loves ice cream, do you mind if they come, too?”

  Clarissa jumped up and down, her arms extended.

  “Yes! I can show Macy the playgrounds! Can I Mommy?”

  “Sure,” she said. “You girls go get in the van. Aunt Hallie and I will be along in a minute.”

  Macy extracted herself from them and took Clarissa’s hand and they rushed outside like a twister.

  Hallie gathered herself, wiping the tears and the snot from her face.

  “Thanks, hon,” she said to Jake.

  Sarah was standing with her hands on her hips.

  “Are we set, then? Macy stays with me until you two can get your lives straight?”

  Hallie looked at him. Then, she looked back to her sister with pleading eyes.

  “We don’t want to leave her, but we need to think about her safety. I cannot keep my promise to myself if she is in harm’s way.”

  Jake understood her reluctance to take another life. It was something that took its toll on your soul.

  “I want to do this, sis. I love Macy, too. How could someone not love her?” Sarah pleaded.

  Hallie smiled.

  “Yeah. She has that effect on people.”

  They hugged for a minute and it was settled. Jake could not help but feel grateful that a weight was taken from his shoulders. In its place was a dull pain that foretold that he would miss Macy in her absence. He preferred that feeling to the fear that he could lose her.

  Now if only there was something he could do to protect Hallie.

  Chapter 3

  Tender is the Night

  Giselle opened her eyes. She was in a bright room with dark windows. She looked down at herself. A white sheet hung loosely over her naked body. She fought a panic that rose in her chest at her unusual surroundings. A low groan began to escape from her chest. She realized she was going to scream.

  “Help!” she cried.

  Her arms were strapped into the chair she was in. She could feel a strap around her breasts, and ones around her ankles and wrists. She was immobilized except for her neck.

  She turned her head to see the room more clearly. A table, more chairs. Several bottles that looked like medicine. Several of these bottles had labels, but she could not read them. The windows were dark because it was night outside. She could see the lights from other buildings nearby.

  Where am I? She wondered.

  Her head throbbed and she had a metallic taste in her mouth. She was thirsty and the taste almost drove her mad. The thought of being restrained made her angry. She had no idea where she could be. She tried to remember.

  Her brain did not return any information. She knew who she was. She was not suffering from amnesia.

  “Help!” she cried again without hope.

  She was sure no one heard. Or if they did, they would put a note in her file and wait for her to behave erratically before charging in and administering some drug or chiding her for digging grooves into the padded armrest with her nails.

  She rolled her head to loosen the muscles in her neck. She popped her back and shoulder and tried to get comfortable in the chair. She had been here for some time, it seemed. Her back and bottom were stiff and sore.

  “Can someone bring me some water at least?” she asked in as reasonable manner as she could. She hoped someone would hear. She had so many questions. Where was she? Why was she here? Who was the no good son of a—

  The door opened and Gary Forsythe walked through. He shut it behind him and locked it. He carried a clipboard and a plastic cup. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair looked like he had been napping. A fair amount of stubble dusted his chin and jaw. Under different circumstances this rugged look would actually make him more attractive, she thought. Under these specific circumstances, she gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw hurt.

  He looked at her almost apologetically. He raised his eyebrows and the cup.

  “You asked for some water?” he asked as he came closer.

  She wanted to jump out of the chair and claw out his eyes. Something about the way he hesitated told her that she was telegraphing her intent.

  “I want to know where I am and why,” she said slowly. It took a monumental effort not to scream and yell. She wanted to murder this twerp.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I am only being reasonable, I think.”

  He came closer. He held out the cup to her lips as he neared. She could smell his body and the food he had recently consumed. He smelled like onions and grease, she decided. She sipped the water he offered. The water was tepid. Nevertheless, it was a delight as it wet her mouth and throat. She felt her empty stomach clench in response. When was the last time I ate? She wondered.

  She looked over the rim of the cup. He was watching her drink with his mouth open, carefully trying not to spill the water. She lifted her chin and pushed the cup away with her lips to signal that she had enough. It was all she could do to stop herself from darting forward and biting his fingers.

  “There. Is that better?”

  She turned her head and looked at him askance.

  “You actually care how I feel? I don’t know, Gary. It seems to me this would be an awful way to get a woman in bed. A little too kinky for me.”

  Gary blushed.

  “It’s not like that. You are a patient.”

  “A patient that needs to be strapped to a chair? I think you are mixing up your sexual fantasies Gary. Either you want the nurse and patient or you want the bondage.”

  He shook his head.

  Gary was an easy target to wheedle. She understood that he was strongly attracted to her and in some ways that left him vulnerable to her. She had that advantage with many men. It gave her confidence and she always managed to use her gifts to manipulate them. This usually gave her pleasure. Not many men were immune to her raw animal magnetism and superior sexuality. Except for Monday.

  Monday! Did he have something to do with this? As Gary struggled with his desire and guilt, she tried to remember the last time she had seen Jake.

  She remembered a boat, a rough sweater, and rough waters. She remembered enjoying the sun and the salt and the sight of Jake’s lean jaw and easy demeanor. Where was that? When was that?

  “Giselle, I need to tell y
ou something.”

  She shook her head and tried to shrug. It was difficult to pull off with the effect she wanted since her arms and chest were strapped down. All she managed was a little jerk of her narrow shoulders.

  “I am a captive audience. Literally,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm and irony.

  He sighed.

  “Yeah. Well, see. For the past two years you have been subjected to tests.”

  “Like being in the company of fools like you?” she joked.

  “You are a guinea pig. My guinea pig, to be exact. Others have been indoctrinated as well. Most of the subjects do not respond well to the drugs. Or maybe it is the psychological strain or a rejection of the binary codes...”

  “Wait. You are babbling. Drugs? Psychological strain? What are you trying to tell me, Gary?”

  He shrugged and sighed.

  “Something that I have told you now forty-five times in two years. Mostly out of guilt.” Gary looked back toward the door and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I am beginning to suspect that my apologies played a part in your rogue behavior.”

  “Oh, darling, you have not begun to see rogue behavior. Let me out of this chair and I will show you,” she said. Her voice was calm and a devilish grin spread across her face as she imagined her nails sinking into Gary’s eyes.

  “I understand your anger and frustration. It is out of character for you. You are usually calculating and cold, manipulative and distant. The programing is changing your personality slowly but perceptibly. I have noted this in my reports and I am preparing a study designed to document this phenomenon,” he shrugged and shook his head, a look of disappointment painted across his forehead. “Not that it matters. I just want to say to you that all that I do here I do for science. Not for some political reason. Not for the Consortium. Not even for me, really. What you are becoming is an act of science.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Gary. Frankly, I don’t care. You can apologize or make your confessional, say your Hail Mary’s, or throw yourself on a sword for all I care. Just. Get. Me. Out.”

  “I would love to, actually. You are essentially the third subject we recruited and the first to be indoctrinated in the second wave. That makes you special. But, your subconscious has rejected something in your programming. We cannot find its source. My colleagues believe you have been cross-programmed and the psychological scarring is rejecting subsets of the code we implanted. Codes that are at the core of the control we have over your memories and your emotions.”

  “What the Hell are you saying?”

  He blinked rapidly and hugged the clipboard across his chest. His eyes were flitting around the room like he was trying to decide how to respond.

  “Are you high?” she asked.

  “Of course not. It’s just that the outburst just now is another side effect, you see? You are normally calm. Almost placid, really. You have not been the same since we asked you to kill Jake.”

  “Me? Kill Jake Monday?” She almost laughed out loud.

  Gary nodded sadly.

  “He was resisting the programming. He would go off the grid for days. The only thing that worked was the memory scour. The drugs only made his instincts more acute. His abilities were off the charts.”

  “I would have liked to witness that,” she quipped.

  Gary gave her a disapproving look.

  “Perhaps this is why it failed. You were attracted to him. We thought it would be the other way around.”

  “If Jake was a subject as well, then why did you want him killed?”

  Gary smirked.

  “We needed a test. We needed to see if we could program one subject to kill and the other to save. In our computer simulations, the diagnosis was that the murderer would prevail. Of course, it would change everything. Then, New Year’s Day happens and our study is broken.”

  “How does Sinegem fit into this?”

  “This was your father’s idea. He wanted to take hostile corporate mergers and acquisitions to another level. Part of your success came from the ruthlessness and cold calculation that we programmed into you. It was part of your original DNA and experience, but we honed it and made it sharper, made you almost a machine. You were your father’s pride and joy, a perfect weapon in corporate espionage.”

  “Glad to know I could finally please Eilif. But, what I do not understand is that you said you have apologized to me over forty times,” she said, looking down at her straps and the chair. “Am I always strapped in here when you apologize?”

  “It is for your own safety. I am afraid some of the mental probes and cortex stimulations send the subjects into uncontrollable physical gyrations due to overstimulation and innervation of the brain stem. Besides, the restraints come in handy during the psychological deconstruction. Early subjects were left unrestrained and managed self-strangulation and other physical attacks.”

  “Yeah. I could see that happening,” she said testily.

  He looked at his watch.

  “I am afraid our time is up. As you have probably already deduced, you will not be able to remember any of this.” Gary rested the clipboard on the table and she noted a red “X” at the top of the page. He leaned closer to her and his voice became a whisper. “I have been asked to terminate you, Giselle,” he admitted. He checked the doorway again. “They will never know that I saved you instead. Your father has compensated me for my loyalty already. I have no need for a world without a government, without money, without hope.”

  Her mouth was dry again. Dry from fear. She felt her lips part and watched as Gary’s eyes searched hers.

  “I love you, Giselle. I always have. I want you to know, I have never taken advantage of you,” he said, his breathing ragged. She felt his body against her knee.

  “Alright. Good to know. What are you planning to do, Gary?”

  He sighed and stepped back, obviously conflicted.

  “Die, probably. The only subjects left for me to study are Lars and Violet. They are off the grid. They have been ever since Jake escaped. I tried to get Jake to eliminate them and he resisted. They are in Colorado somewhere now. And they are aware of the programming. It was a mistake to allow them to become so close. I see that now.”

  “Who are Lars and Violet? I don’t understand, Gary. Help me to understand.”

  Gary looked at her as though she were a botched experiment. A mixture of disappointment and remorse was displayed in his gaze.

  “I am sorry Giselle. You are a failed experiment. You are my failure though,” he came forward again, his eyes brimming with tears. He took her hands in his and kneaded her knuckles. He looked up at her again. “You are so perfect,” he said, swallowing.

  She shook her head.

  “No.”

  “I will not hurt you,” he said. “They will take my research and create an army of assassins, spies, and media plants. They can take my research. They can collect Lars and Violet. They can even hunt down Monday and kill him for all I care. But, they cannot have you.”

  His jaw worked and Giselle could see that he was emotionally unstable. This did not come as a surprise.

  “Who will take your research?” she asked. “Is my father behind this, too?”

  He smiled sadly and shook his head.

  “No. I have to do this now. Please forgive me. I am only protecting you.”

  She tried to stall.

  “I have to know who is responsible. After doing this to me, you owe me at least that much!” she pleaded. She thought about bringing up the crying ploy but she was aware that he would see through the ruse. He evidently knew her techniques.

  He looked at her thoughtfully. She could see now that he was truly insane.

  “You have met him once, you know? In France. You came back and told me all about him. It was the first time I had heard of him, although you did not tell me his name. He is the one that has suddenly changed this game we have been playing.”

  She shook her head, not recalling the man of which
he spoke.

  “I don’t know who you mean. I...” Gary put a finger to her lips. His finger was soft, his touch gentle. She could feel him recoil when he touched her.

  “Shh. You will not remember that. I erased it from your memory.” His face bore the signs of worry and regret. “He will over reach his goal. Do not worry. He thinks he is invulnerable. He is powerful, to be sure.” He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. “I want to repay him for shutting down my lab and asking for your termination. I cannot forgive or forget that.”

  “But, what if they find out?”

  He shook his head.

  “They do not know how I feel about you. And Eilif has assured me that he can hide you away easily enough. You will recover soon. I will come to you and help to erase some of the programming. Then, you will be free.”

  “Why not now? Let me out and we can be together. We can run away and my father will protect us. He can hide us both away,” she suggested, her voice a rush with the intensity of her effort.

  He just shook his head.

  “No. This way is better. The plan has already been made. You will see,” he said. He let go of her hand and stepped to a table.

  She turned and saw him pick up a vial and a needle. He tapped the bottle and held it up to the light. He plunged the needle into the top of the bottle and pulled back the plunger.

  “What are you doing?” Giselle asked, panicked.

  “Saving you,” he said simply.

  Gary flicked the syringe once and pushed some liquid through the needle. It spurted out into the air.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “There must be another way!” She was scared and angry and desperate. She thrashed against her restraints to no avail. She knew it was hopeless because Gary seemed unconcerned about her frantic movement.

  He calmly turned to her and plunged the needle into her bare shoulder. She felt the cold liquid enter under her skin. She could feel the pinch of the needle. He removed it, wiped it with a cloth and deposited it into a plastic Sharps container.

  She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. The world collapsed on her; the lights were bright behind her eyelids as she succumbed to the numb. She heard Gary moving close by but could not see him. Then his face loomed near and she felt his lips brush hers. She could feel his warm salty tears on her upper lip. I did not take advantage of you, he had said.