The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments) (9 page)

“You do, do you? And I’d bet anything that you wouldn’t have to slack.”

“You don’t think?” Jake said arrogantly.

“I
don’t
think. Maybe not the first day or two, but after that, I’d keep up with your big military ass in a heartbeat. That is, within reason.”

“Oh, of course,” he said non-believingly. “Within reason . . .” Jake lifted his one hand up. “Is that meaning, like no more than a quarter of a mile hike?”

“Oh . . .” Cal grunted. “You’re so arrogant, you frustrate me.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t work out together, you’d probably frustrate me.”

“You know what I should do? I should work out with you. That would show you.”

“You can’t do that, Cal. I start at five in the morning.” He turned a page of the manuscript.

“I can get up at five in the morning.”

“Oh, you can, can you? Well, why don’t you show me what you got?”

“You’re on.” Cal pointed at him with a firm finger. “Tomorrow I start with you.”

“Good.” Smiling to himself, Jake shifted his eyes to look at her, trying not to show his pleasure in having her join him.

Cal’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe I just took the bait. You baited me.”

“Yep, I did. And now, let’s get back to the books.”

“Jake.” Cal stopped him. “No, you’re wrong. They can’t be important.”

“Cal, I’m telling you. They are part of a mental thing here. John’s fucked up comment to you yesterday made me start to think. If they were just informational books, then why didn’t they tell us Griff was deaf? That’s something pretty big to leave out.”

Cal paused for a second. “All right that’s a point. And on that, remind me to brush up on my sign language.”

Jake was surprised. “You sign.”

“Have so all my life. My mother was deaf. I was speaking sign language before I spoke words. I can remember when I was about four or five, I used to think my mother could hear, but she pretended to be deaf to block out my father’s loud yelling.” Cal smiled. “I remember that vividly about him.”

“He yelled a lot?”

“Sure. My father was a Drill Sergeant. No wait . . . a Master Drill Sergeant.”

“I see.” Jake nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. “So your father was your strict military upbringing?”

“Yeah, well, my father was military, but he died when I was very young. My stepfather is the one I’m talking about. He’s the only father I really remember. He was a good man. In fact, he took care of Jessie, raised her so I could finish school.”

“I take it you’re still close to him. Is your mother still married to him?”

“No.” Cal crossed her arms and brought her knees up some. “My mother died when I was fourteen. My step-father raised me; I stayed with him. He was a good guy. He passed away three years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Jake exhaled. “So . . . your back ground explains why you recognized me as a Major.”

Cal gave him an odd look. “How did you know I recognized you as a Major? You said you didn’t remember meeting me. In fact, you said you only pay attention to people that capture your attention.”

“All right, I do remember meeting you. And yes, you captured my attention. How could you not, you walked right into me?”

“I did, didn’t I? So, why did you lie?”

“I was being an asshole. But I guarantee I am the only asshole up here you can trust to be alone with.”

“Nah.” Cal shook her head. “Carlos is harmless. I could be alone with him.”

“You don’t know him.” Jake nodded. “I’m a pretty good judge of people and I get a bad feeling from him.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of people, too, and I
don’t
get a bad feeling about him. Besides, I sat in my room alone with you last night and I don’t know you.”

Jake laughed at her remark. “Please, I’m the best one you could spend time with. My gut tells me . . .”

“Jake, I firmly believe your gut sucks about the manuscripts and Carlos.” Cal laughed.

“You’re letting the fact that he looks just like your ex-fiancé get in the way of your clear thinking. Look at his eyes Cal. Really look at his eyes. They say a lot.”

“So do hands. I’d rather ask to see his hands.”

With a loud laugh Jake threw his head back. “Are you telling me besides being the great judge of character, you’re also a palm reader?”

“No, I’m not a palm reader. But I can tell by the lines on your hands so much about you.” She reached across and grabbed his right hand but he struggled. “Let me see your palm.”

“No.” He tugged back, but not too hard.
 
He didn’t want to pull her across him.

“Are you afraid?”

“Afraid?” Jake set his book to one side and willingly gave her his hand. “Go on.”

Cal spread his fingers open, running her hand across his, flattening it. “God, your hands are huge.”

“You know what they say. You can tell about a man’s . . .” Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t believe I said that. That was wrong. It was inappropriate.”

“Please, Jake. If you can walk around in your underwear in front of me, you can make crude comments. Trust me, I’ve heard them all.” She looked at his hand and then smiled at him. “OK, what do I see? This is your character line. It’s short.”

“Thanks.” Jake rolled his eyes and tried to pull his hand back.

“It’s strong though. You can be trusted . . . But you’re also selfish. In fact, I’d go so as far to say you’re probably a selfish lover.” Hoping to irk him, Cal was surprised by his reaction.

“You’re probably right.” Jake felt her hand smooth against his. Her soft finger tips, her small hand getting lost in his. He actually could care less what she was saying about him. He was enthralled at how nice it felt to have her touching him gently like that.

“I’m right? That’s a hell of a thing to admit to.” Cal was surprised but continued to examine his hands.

“I’m honest.” He took a deep breath and swallowed as he watched her run her fingers oh-so-lightly across his palm. “Aren’t we all selfish? I mean, when you’re not with someone you care about, you’re more likely to be selfish in bed. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, I do.” She nodded.

“So . . . I’m probably a selfish lover. In fact, I know I have been. I’ve never been with anyone I cared about. I’ve never had time to care about anyone. But I know I wouldn’t be selfish if I met that person.” He felt her hand stop in the center of his palm and rest there. Almost as if a reflex action, his fingers closed over top of hers. His heart jumped a beat when he did that. Catching himself, he quickly pulled away. “Let’s get back to the books.”

“No.” Cal was firm. “I’m not going to sit here and let you, or us, waste our time on your stupid manuscript theory.”

“Stupid?” Jake was offended. “Will you admit defeat if I prove it?”

“Oh, I will, absolutely. How are you going to do that?”

“Meet me back in your room in fifteen minutes.” Tossing the manuscripts he already had into his knapsack, Jake handed it to Cal, stood up, and walked down the hill.

Stan and Lyle reached the double doors to the observation room. The doors that were supposed to be almost sound proof weren’t anywhere near that, they discovered as they reached for the handles.

Stan, arms filled with folders walked into the room first. “Barb . . . Tina.” He set his folders on the table. “Your hair looks good today, Tina.”

Tina knew it did. It always looked good when she wore her red hair up in a twist. But Stan’s flattery tactics were getting them nowhere. “You guys are late.” She stood up.

Stan checked out his watch. “Yes, we are. Thank you for confirming that. Dr. Jefferson had us in his office. You know how he rambles. Did anything happen today?”

Barb pushed in her chair as she stood and stretched. “Nothing, still boring and it will be until phase one, I can see that already. Rickie told a couple of good stories, but that’s about it. Oh, we put a new one up on the board if you guys are interested.”

“What is it?” Stan asked.

“It’s for who’s going to ruin the first easy to prepare meal.” Barb pointed to the cork board.

Stan shook his head. “That is so weak. What a lame poll.” He moved to the cork board. “Anyone take
Caleen
?” He saw their heads shake no, reached in his pocket for a dollar bill, stuck it in the envelope tacked next to the poll and signed his name. “We have to remember to take this down for the holding event, orders from Dr. Jefferson.”

Walking backwards to the door with Barb, Tina lifted her hand to wave. “We’re out of here.”

Lyle stopped them. “Any chance we’ll get a good sex scene tonight?”

Barb scoffed at his remark. “Please, this early? I worked on the last experiment and it was a month before anyone hooked up. But of course, they didn’t have a Jennifer.”

“All right, then.” Seemingly disappointed, Lyle sat in the chair next to Stan.

“And . . .” Barb continued as she opened the door, “masturbation does not count. So since you two have the earliest sex guesses, don’t snatch up the money for that. Remember the rules.” She left with a giggle to Tina.

With a smirk at the just closed door, Stan looked to Lyle. “I think masturbation should count. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Too bad,” Stan said and then grabbed the remote control zooming in on monitor seven. “Hey-hey-hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but this ought to be good.” He grinned. “Graison’s going into Rickie’s room.”

Jake was a man who had ventured into many dangerous situations. Never did he think twice about any venture like he did as he stood before Rickie’s door. Fist raised high to knock, annoyance level peaking from the too loud music that blasted into the hallway, Jake stopped. He tilted his head and stared at the door in utter perplexity.

“And I’m going to keep on loving you . . .”

“What the fuck is he listening to that for?” Jake knocked hard believing even more, upon deciphering Rickie’s choice in music, that something was just not right about him. There wasn’t an answer and Jake knocked again . . . then again.

“Dude!” upbeat, loud and excited Rickie yelled when he opened the door. His eyes were squinted and red.

The cloud of smoke billowed out at Jake. The tickle hit his throat and he immediately coughed. “Quit calling me, Dude.”

“OK.” Rickie grinned. “Sarge, why are you . . .” Rickie stepped back out of the way when Jake walked in.

Twenty-four hours
, Jake thought. A span of a day and Rickie’s room appeared as if he had been living in it for two years. Magazines, music, food sprawled out all over the room which was engulfed in a heavy cloud of smoke.

Rickie walked back in the room talking loudly. “Sarge, what did you want?”

Jake’s peered about the room through the fog. The room wasn’t that big but he couldn’t spot it. Listening, slightly hunched, Jake followed the music until it reached its loudest. By the bathroom door, under a barrage of Rickie’s just unpacked and tossed clothes, Jake found the small portable stereo and shut it off.

Rickie shrieked. “Guy, you killed my Rio
Speedwagon
.”

Standing up straight, Jake turned. “Who?”

In an explaining carefree mood, Rickie lifted his hand. “I know they’re probably after your time, but they’re this really cool pop band from an era that boosted the stock value of hair spray.” In homage, Rickie lowered his head slightly. “Rio
Speedwagon
.”

“No, Rickie. R-E-O,” Jake corrected.

“No, Dude. Trust me. It’s not ‘Our . . . Rio,’ it’s just plain Rio. I know. I got the Greatest Hits. It says right on front.”

“Yes, Rickie, it does. It says R-E-O, the letters R-E-O. You pronounce each of the letters. Christ.” Jake watched him pick up a joint. “Knock that off.” He took it from his hand and set it back down. “Must you smoke so much marijuana?”

“I must. So, Dude, I mean, Sarge, like why are you in my room badgering me. I hope you aren’t coming after me because you did duo strike outs with the babes.”

Jake’s jaw twitched but he stayed relevantly calm. “No, Rickie. I came for your manuscript.”

“My what?” Rickie asked.

“The book they gave you before you got here, the one that told you about everyone here.”

“Oh!” Rickie nodded.

“Do you have it?” Jake asked.

“Yes.”

“Can I borrow it?”

“Guy, it’s like really boring,”

“Rickie,” Jake snapped. “Can I borrow it?”

“Did you lose yours?”

“No. I just . . . I just want to borrow yours.”

“But you still have yours.” Rickie was confused. “Guy, like, why? I mean it’s sort of like going out and renting a movie the same day it’s on television.”

“Rickie!” Jake barked and then calmed down. “Please. Can I have the book?”

“Hostile. Hostile.” Rickie spun at a slow pace around his room, looking. He snapped his fingers and walked over to a bag. “Over here.” He opened the bag, grabbed the manuscript and tossed it to Jake.

Bent, torn, and covered in a brown substance, Jake feared even turning a page. He held it firm by two fingers, nodded a thank you and left.

^^^^

It was a sequence of sounds Cal heard from her room that told her one of two things was occurring. Either Jake had something important to tell her or he really had to use the bathroom. His movements were loud which conveyed a sense of urgency. Heavy foots steps across his room, the fast unlatching of his bathroom side, the single step ‘clunk’ on the bathroom floor.

Before she could even listen to determine his reason for rush, the one knock was followed immediately by the opening of the bathroom door.

Jake walked in holding the dirty manuscript. “Admit defeat.” He extended it to Cal. “Read Griff.”

Before a response was even out of Cal’s mouth, he had the open manuscript before her, his huge index finger on the page pointed to a line of text for her visual benefit. Slowly Cal stood. She lifted her eyes from the book to Jake. “Defeat admitted.”