Confabulation (18 page)

CHAPTER
49

The plan was progressing with predictable efficiency and precision. Everything Jackson Gray had ever planned worked out just as well. He’d spend his early years in the company training to set up the kind of ambush that would take place soon. He’d done his time in compliance. As a sniffer. He’d taken over minds and made them do his bidding.

He moved to recruitment because he knew the future was in who they brought in. He was dedicated to the company. To its mission. To save and nurture those with a gift that could be a curse if untrained. He wanted to make the company as strong as he could. So he took over the acquisition of talent.

That’s when he learned the truth.

Now, he was back to his old games. Playing off of his adversary’s confidence. Maintaining information that he shared with no one. It was the surest was to come out on top of troublesome confrontations. He’d be a much more formidable opponent than Susan Harrison was expecting. She might meet an ugly fate, but his ability to rationalize the loss of life accounted for much of his unusually high success rate.

Following his time tested routine, Jackson had spent hours preparing his mind. He knew Susan would assault him with whatever tricks she had. She’d also bring distractions, probably Carolyn. He was ready. There was nothing the untrained subject could do. She would take none of his attention until Susan was neutralized.

He prepared his defenses and cleansed his mind of fear. The final moments leading to an action always produced a profound peace within Jackson. He had proven to himself that he would always be more prepared that the others, and that panic or anxiety gave him no advantage in putting together the final touches, or adapting to a last minute change.

Jackson positioned himself in the center of his room to complete his preparation for the next day. He pulled a cushion from atop the dresser in his room, and sat on the front of it with his legs crossed over his thighs. He placed his right hand under his left, and began rocking slowly. Each arc was less pronounced than the last, until he was settled, balanced, and calm.

Jackson had learned to calm himself in this manner from one of the founders. The great graybeards that established the company a hundred years before. It was a technique that allowed him to firm the central pillars of his mind. Give him a place to retreat to under extreme duress. A final defense  that none had ever been able to test.

Balanced, he pressed his tongue against his upper pallet, and began counting his breaths. He had at one time believed that he no longer needed to count the breaths, but his concentration hadn’t reached that level. Inhale. Exhale. One. At least he no longer needed the constant feedback of counting each independently. Inhale. Exhale. Two. He continued to count. Up to ten, and then he began counting down.

Concern about Susan’s plan flashed across his mind. He focused on the invasive thoughts and attacked it. He knew that she wanted him. Wanted him alive. He knew she wanted the subjects so they could be evaluated.

None of these mattered. He was prepared for each of the challenges, and she couldn’t know what he was able to do. What Simon was ready to do. Satisfied, he pushed the thought away and continued to count. Down to one, and then he counted again.

As he continued to focus on his breathing, the doubts about his plan rose to meet him. With each, he identified the doubt, analyzed it, and allowed it to slip away under the oppressive counting of his breaths. He continued counting up to ten and back to one. Up and down. Ten to one. Soon, he was at peace, his mind was clear, and he was ready for the conflict to come.

He rose from the ground, refreshed and focused. He replaced the cushion, and walked next door to check on Simon. Through the door, he could hear the footsteps. He could imagine Simon pacing through the room like a caged jungle cat sensing feeding time. Simon was primed, and Jackson knew he would be successful.

Seeing Simon grow more agitated every day confirmed to him that he was pursuing the correct course of action. Now, he understood the power of his plan. Understood that it could be used just as he intended. And that the technique could never be allowed to be used by another. He would need to take care of Danton, but that was another days’ problem.

He pictured Simon again. Happy that he was ready to do what was needed. Jackson didn’t however feel sympathy for the man. He had addressed that emotion during his meditation.

Simon was a good man, but not greater than the collection of people that the company would enslave. He needed Simon in order to ensure that the once great organization would return to its roots. Jackson couldn’t allow failure. Simon was just a resource at Jackson’s disposal. True, as a person, he was a valuable resource, but the cost in this case was justified by the horrible cost of losing.

Jackson walked away from the door, not wanting to disturb the thoughts that were building in Simon’s head. He crossed the living room to the sofa, and eased himself down onto the padded seat. Jackson exhaled audibly, and allowed his back to sink into the cushion. He closed his eyes, and pictured the meeting. He went through several variations, confident that each would result in victory. When he could imagine no more variables and variations, he let his mind wander and he slept.

CHAPTER
50

Danton pounded his chest after belching the residue from the full pound bacon cheeseburger he had devoured in less than fifteen minutes. His ample pants strained under the pressure of his bloated belly, and the cabin of his car now reeked of onions and cheese. He belched again, and reached for his second one-liter soda of the day.

He chugged a large portion of the soda before replacing the cap and attacking the mammoth chocolate shake he had purchased as dessert. He figured it would keep him full for some time, but he couldn’t help thinking about the meatball sandwich he had planned for dinner.

Dinner would have to wait, though, as he needed to spend as much time within listening range of Henry Adamson as possible. The morning had yielded the exciting result of information concerning the impending meeting with that bastard Jackson. Danton sucked down more of the thick beverage and thought about Jackson’s reaction when he discovered that his little plan had failed.

Danton assumed that Jackson planned on eliminating the evidence of his betrayal against the company, while keeping things quiet enough that he could do it again when he was ready. Danton had no intention of allowing that to happen.

The welfare of the subjects mattered little to Danton. They were merely tools in the fight against disorder. If they were lost in order to bring out the greater good, so be it. However, he couldn’t allow the program to be lost. His plan was simple, follow Henry to the site. Capture all the subjects for evaluation.

Kill Gray.

Securing new subjects would be easy once he’d gone through the minds of the others to see what worked and how it was working. He knew enough about how to do the implantation, but he needed to know how the memories were made. How to make them more permanent.

He hoped that some of the subjects would survive the evaluation. He’d be able to use them for his army. They had already proven to be dangerous when thoughts crept in.

He slurped the remainder of the shake and tossed the containers and wrappings out the window of his car. As he drove around the hotel where Henry Adamson reclined, absorbing the inane ramblings of sportscasters and commentators, Danton tried to imagine the different scenarios that could take place. It was an exercise he frequently engaged in, though it seldom yielded positive results.

Danton had always been bright and imaginative. Able to create solutions to problems that other failed to see. However, despite his background and previous work, he found it very difficult to imagine the multiple ways that people might behave. He could easily determine the most likely course of action, but he couldn’t visualize multiple scenarios. As a result, he had developed an aggressive manner to deal with such situations.

Like an expert chess player, Danton strove to create scenarios that forced his opponent to choose between two equally distasteful options. His goal wasn’t to forecast all of the possible scenarios, but to create a situation in which his adversary’s decision became a non-factor. He was certain he had achieved that this time as well.

Whether the meeting resulted in complete loss of life, no fatalities, or something in the middle was irrelevant, his plan required only that Jackson Gray die and the subjects end up in his custody. Whether or not the subjects Jackson dies was meaningless.

He chuckled at the thought of all the petty strategies that the different parties were planning. Henry with his need for closure and knowledge. Jackson with his plan to eliminate the threat of losing his precious control over the situation. Losing it to Danton. The undoubtedly fear driven motives of the other subjects. Each of these people believed they controlled the situation, knowing nothing about him, or his guaranteed victory.

Gleeful from his analysis, Danton felt the rumblings of a craving. He wanted to stay near Henry, and had believed that having the shake would stem his desire, but faced with a lack of anxiety and an assured victory, his gluttonous desires began to gain a foothold. He circled the building twice more, trying to subdue his urge. The battle was a futile one however, and he was soon on his way.

Six blocks from Henry’s hotel, Danton parked his car and entered the small, bright building. His desire had grown beyond his control, and his order demonstrated the degree of craving. He placed his money on the table, lifted the large bowl, and sat down at a small marble table to enjoy the ten scoops of handmade ice cream that he sometimes dreamed about. He shoveled the first few flavors down his large throat, before slowing down to enjoy the treat.

CHAPTER
51

The time was approaching. Carolyn stared at the door Susan had knocked on in the early morning to inform her that the meeting would take place the next day. She had no response. She sat, catatonic, on her bed. Susan detailed when the meeting would take place and what would occur, but Carolyn comprehended nothing. She heard the words, and understood what was being said, but the information left her mind as soon as it entered.

Even as the sun came up, the room seemed to darken with each passing moment. Each time Susan tried to grab her attention and move her focus to the next day, Carolyn recessed more into the hole that threatened to swallow her mind. Every detail dimmed her life and she was happy to see Susan leave.

She had little knowledge of the next day’s events when Susan left, but none of that changed her feelings about the appointment. Over the past two days, Carolyn had imagined how she might react when the meeting was actually set. She wasn’t sure if she would scream, faint, run, hide, or simply cry. None of these were her response.

Even after Susan left, Carolyn could do nothing. Her only desire was to sleep. To sleep forever. She wanted only to recline on the bed, in the dark that defied the sun, and lose consciousness until the whole affair was over. Within minutes of Susan’s departure, Carolyn was sprawled upon the bed, dreading the passage of time.

Hours later, she lay in the same place, having not moved an inch. In her motionless state, she imagined that time stopped and that if she remained fixed she would be able prevent the next day from coming. Her muscles ached, but she feared that movement would make the next day arrive sooner. The threat of the meeting forced every desire to live out of her.

She lay without moving, holding time still. Her eyes focused on the same spot on the ceiling, freezing time in its place. Time passed outside her room, but she held it away with her stiff frame and constant stare. And then there was a shadow. A small shadow of a flying bird. It passed across the spot on the ceiling and caught her eye. Before she could stop it, her eyes tracked the shadow, and her head moved.

Suddenly, she could see the sun, now low in the sky. The spell was broken and the day was almost over. She could no longer stop the ominous approaching meeting, and she knew now that she had wasted the day. Wasted what could be her last day.

She jumped from the bed, and fell to the floor. Her tired, sore legs were unable at first to support her weight, but she needed to go. She stared at the window, longing to be outside. Longing to enjoy the last moments of her life. Slowly, she could feel the painful tingling in her legs that told her the blood coursed again. She worked her way back atop her wobbly legs and staggered to the window.

She pulled at the frame, expecting it to be locked. The window didn’t move, and she pressed her face to the glass. It felt warm to her cheek. She stared out the glass now so close to her eye, and though the view was distorted, she enjoyed the beauty of the field at dusk. She stared at the orange sky, and green fields, imagining her life before.

Before she was contacted by whoever was responsible.

Contact with those forces had ruined her life. They had the power to make her question every thought. And now, she was only hours away from facing them. Thoughts of the meeting clawed at her mind, but she fought against them by staring at the fields outside the window. The grass was turning green, and the trees were leafing out despite the seasonal lack of rain. She stared at the trees, but nothing could keep her fears of the next day at bay.

Even through the trees, she could see the men coming for her. She could hear voices in her head, and though she feared them, she imagined that they could make her want to go to them. She wondered how she could be sure whom she could trust. Could she trust whom she felt like trusting, or would they be planting that in her mind? Could she risk going against her intuition and trust the others? There were no answers to her doubts and fears.

She knew that she wouldn’t be able to rely on her perceptions or feelings. The next day, she would meet with people who held a power she couldn’t understand or fight. Her only protection would be a woman she hardly knew who could be one of them. Or worse. Sure, she trusted Susan, but what did that mean anymore?

She knew only that Susan intended to use her as bait. To hope that the person they met wanted to kill or capture her. Wanted it enough to lose concentration. She was going to be attacked by someone. That was certain.

Carolyn returned to the bed, knowing that Susan wouldn’t let her run. She reclined into the mattress, searching for a few hours of comfort. She held no illusions that sleep would come, but she reasoned that she would need her rest for the next day’s trials. She stared up at the ceiling, finding the spot that comforted her recently. The spot was now cold and dead. She hoped it didn’t portend her fate the next day.