The Many (18 page)

8

Karl was sweeping up cat litter in aisle three when Dawn called his cell. He hurried to the end of the aisle before answering.

“Hey, do you mind if I call you back?” he said quietly. “I’ve got a break in half an hour.”

“There’s someone we need to see,” Dawn said, ignoring his request. “Can you get the afternoon off?”

“No, Jesus. I’m already on thin ice here.”

“Okay, I was just asking. I can go by myself.”

Karl glanced down the aisle, checking for Ravi. At this time of the morning he was usually dealing with deliveries, but you could never be sure. He had a knack for being everywhere at once.

The coast was clear – for now. “Who are you going to meet?” he asked.

“Seymour Jennings,” Dawn said excitedly.

She explained that Seymour was the Portland State student who’d put on fifty pounds in a month after Professor Leach convinced him he was seriously underweight. Of Leach’s four research assistants, he was the only one Dawn had managed to track down, finding a reference to his business in an online hobbyists’ magazine.

Karl wasn’t as excited by the news as Dawn clearly was. Seymour Jennings might’ve had some insights into Leach’s psyche, but Karl was no longer interested in getting inside the man’s head. He just wanted to catch him. And last night, thanks to a text from Virgil, he’d thought of a plan.

When Dawn had finished speaking, he said, “Actually, I’ve got something else I want to run by you. Can you hold off visiting Seymour for a couple of days?”

“No, I want to go today. I’ll have nothing to do otherwise.”

Karl exhaled wearily. He couldn’t let Dawn make the trip alone. If Seymour had been under the professor’s spell, however briefly, he might still be wrong in the head. “Okay, can you at least wait until after lunch? I need to think of an excuse.”

“I guess so,” she sighed. “One o’clock.”

“Done,” Karl said quickly, hearing Ravi’s shoes squeaking on the vinyl floor. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and snuck over to the spilled cat litter, sweeping the clumps listlessly.

A second later, Ravi appeared at the base of the aisle, hands on hips. “Why is this mess still here?”

“Sorry, I had to take a bathroom break,” Karl grimaced, hunching over his broom. “My gut’s been killing me this morning. I think I ate something bad.”

Ravi looked at him suspiciously. “You got a tummy ache? Aisle two – Pepto’s on special. Either buy medicine or look for a new job. I don’t pay you to be sick.”

Karl nodded and slowly resumed sweeping, adding a groan for effect.

Dawn was in an excitable mood when she picked Karl up outside the store. She was clearly pleased with her morning’s sleuthing, and seemed convinced that Seymour Jennings would miraculously lead them to Leach’s hideaway. Karl, however, wasn’t feeling the vibe. Not only did he think the meeting would be a waste of time, he worried it would cost him his job.

Karl had made several rushing trips to the bathroom during his fake attack of food poisoning. Ravi had been duly skeptical, but he eventually decided that an employee running across the store with a hand over his mouth wasn’t a great advertisement for his fresh produce. He gave Karl the afternoon off, letting him know he didn’t buy into the puking act and that one more disruptive stunt would see him fired. Karl believed him, too. He’d used up the last of Ravi’s good will.

The further they drove out of Portland – through garbage-strewn streets and industrial wastelands; past boarded-up houses and empty school yards – the worse he felt. Karl kept his thoughts to himself, but his dour mood took the wind out of Dawn’s sails. Her chatter quickly faded and soon after they’d crossed the Columbia River, they were riding in silence, the cast iron sky looming over them like a heavy brow.

The rain was pelting down by the time they reached the northern outskirts of Vancouver, Portland’s woodsy neighbor to the north. Dilapidated houses stood on weed-choked yards and the chill of the nearby mountains appeared to have stilled every leaf in the trees. Idling at a red light, Karl’s eyes were drawn to a vacant lot where a burning oil drum was sending clouds of thick smoke into the air. A tattered sofa rested next to the fire, but whoever had been warming their hands was gone. Nothing moved except the rain and the billowing black smoke.

Karl was relieved when Dawn turned on the radio, distracting him from the foreboding landscape. It was tuned to an indie rock station and she immediately started mouthing the words to some jangly, female-voiced song.

Karl studied her pale, high cheek-boned profile as she drove and sang softly to herself. The music wasn’t his style, but he could tell it was good. There was real substance behind the chilled out vibe.

Dawn’s eyes suddenly flicked sideways. “What?” she frowned.

“Nothing. Who’s the band?”

“Chastity Belt,” she said, training a strand of hair around her ear.

“Really?”

“As if I’d make that up.”

“Good point. Well, I like their sound.”

“Yeah. Their second album’s amazing.”

Karl nodded, listening to the song a bit more. It occurred to him how little he knew about his traveling companion. And considering what he was about to ask of her, he thought he should make a better effort to converse.

He waited respectfully for the track to fade and then said, “So, does your boyfriend mind you riding around with strange guys?”

Dawn’s cheeks started to glow. “Ha-ha.”

“What? You mean you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“No. Do you?”

“Not at the moment,” Karl smiled. “No girlfriend, either. I hardly know anyone in Portland. Just my boss and my druggie roommate.”

Dawn took her time responding. “Portland can be quite cliquey. Like anywhere, I guess.”

“Yeah, although I haven’t exactly been making an effort. I’ve been too busy working to socialize. Not that I could afford to go out, even if I did have the time.”

She didn’t respond to that so Karl asked, “What about you, Dawn? Where do you party on the weekend?”

“I don’t go to parties,” she said tightly. “I’ve got more important things on my mind.”

“I meant before. You know, when life was normal.”

“I spend a lot of time in my room.” She gave him a sharp look, as if daring Karl to make fun of her.

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’m not much of a party person myself.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawn said, locking her eyes back on the road.

Karl did likewise, giving up on small talk. At least he’d learned one important thing about Dawn: she fucking hated talking about herself. That was fine by him – he didn’t need to know her life story. He just needed her to trust him, and if that meant taking a few sarcastic remarks on the chin, so be it.             

9

“You sure this is the right place?” Karl asked when they pulled off the main road into a rundown brick and stucco strip mall. It was a rhetorical question – the sign for Jennings’ Models was right in front of them, wedged between a beauty salon and an abandoned Radio Shack.

“Positive,” Dawn said, taking her pick of the spare parks. The only stores in the single block that appeared open were Jennings’ Models and an unbranded pharmacy. The rest either had For Lease signs in the window or had closed early for the day.

“I mean, how did he end up here?” Karl said.

“Maybe he likes models,” Dawn shrugged, cutting the engine. “You know – boys and their toys.”

“But here?” Karl reiterated, gesturing to the view through the rain-streaked windshield. “He couldn’t have picked a worse location.”

“It probably wasn’t always like this,” Dawn pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Karl said, frowning at the mall’s sagging awnings and the thin gray shrubs shivering against concrete pillars.

A few seconds ticked by and then Dawn abruptly whipped off her seatbelt. “C’mon,” she said decisively. “Seymour probably hasn’t had a customer all week. He’ll be dying to talk to us.”

Entering Jennings’ Models was like stepping back in time. Karl and Dawn were squeezed single file through the cluttered wooden shelves on either side. On the lower shelves were stacks of cellophane covered boxes, gathering dust. Excess inventory, Karl guessed. The upper shelves showcased the finished products: meticulously painted miniatures of old military aircraft. Nothing else. There were no ships or tanks or even fighter jets – only classic warplanes and a handful of helicopters. Karl shook his head in amazement that such an obscure little store could’ve succeeded where Radio Shack failed.

The entrance bell had brought a lumpy, fair-headed man in an
X-Files
t-shirt shuffling out from the back room. Time hadn’t been kind to Seymour Jennings. At Leach’s trial thirteen years ago, he’d been just twenty-one. Yet with his sagging chin, pasty complexion and dull, red-veined eyes, he looked much older than his years.

He eyed them sourly from behind the counter, clearly determining they weren’t military enthusiasts. “Did you take a wrong turn?” he sneered.

“Are you Seymour Jennings?” Dawn smiled, taking the lead.

“Who wants to know?” Seymour said, drawing his head back. His body language was meek, like he was scared of getting hit.

“My name’s Dawn and this is my friend, Karl. We wanted to ask you a few questions about Portland State.”

Seymour went rigid. “Sorry, I can’t help you,” he said tightly.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Dawn said, taking a tentative step forward. “We hate Professor Leach as much as you do.”

“Bullshit,” he said, edging back from the counter. “Now get out of my store before I call the cops.”

“Leach’s experiments killed my mom,” Dawn continued. “Karl’s sister, too. I’m sure you’ve heard he’s on the loose again. We’re trying to find out what makes him tick so we…”

“–Let me save you the hassle,” Seymour cut in. “I don’t know anything about the inner workings of that fucker. I don’t want to know, either. I just want to forget he even exists.”

“What about friends?” Dawn tried. “People he might’ve associated with?”

“He had no friends. No close colleagues. As far as I know, he worked alone and went home alone. Like I told the spooks last year, I don’t know a single fucking detail about him.”

“Then tell us what you went through,” Karl said, finding room beside Dawn in front of the counter. “Give us a bone to chew on, otherwise we’ll be back tomorrow. And the next day.”

Seymour glared at him, hunching like a cornered animal. Up close, Karl could smell the anxious, vinegary sweat coming off his pores.

“You want to know what I went through?” Seymour said, almost snarling. “I don’t fucking remember. I can vaguely recall stuffing my face with pizza and ice cream, but I can’t tell you how I felt or why I was doing it. The whole month was just a blur.”

“Then why are you so bitter?” Karl said. “It was ten years ago.”

“Because he’s still in here!”
Seymour yelled, slapping the side of his head. “Even after the drugs wore off, it was like my mind didn’t belong to me anymore. I couldn’t trust my own thoughts.”

Karl glanced at Dawn, expecting her to share his tense expression, but she had a strange, faraway look in her eyes, like she was recalling a forgotten memory. When she noticed Karl staring, she gave him a reassuring smile.

Karl turned back to Seymour. “Leach is still giving you orders?”

“No,
fuck
no,” he said disgustedly. “I don’t hear voices, if that’s what you’re implying.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like he spoiled me. When he had me in his lab and told me to gorge myself, he said other stuff, too. Stuff I’ll never get rid of.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just remember the rhythm of his voice, talking nonstop in my ear. Filling my head with his fucking poison. I was never the same afterwards. I lost some of the weight, but as you can see, I kept most of it on. I couldn’t concentrate in class and had to drop out of grad school. My girlfriend left me. Pretty much everything turned to shit from the moment I signed up for those drug trials.”

He laughed bitterly. “I guess I never stopped being a lab rat. My whole stupid life feels like an experiment gone wrong. Or maybe that’s what he planned all along.”

Karl’s head was swarming with questions. Was that how Leach’s experiments worked? Maybe the drugs didn’t automatically turn you into a glutton or a psycho – maybe they just made you compliant and open to suggestion. If so, Leach was using a toxic combination of chemistry and hypnosis.

But while Karl thought he might have a basic understanding of
how
the experiments worked, he still didn’t know
why.
What exactly was Leach trying to achieve? What was the end game?

Before he could put the question to Seymour, Dawn asked, “Why are you still in Portland? It can’t be easy knowing Leach is nearby.”

“Believe me, I’d love to. But my Dad has Alzheimer’s and he needs someone to help run the store. I can’t walk out on him.”

His eyes had welled up, and Karl couldn’t tell if he was thinking about his sick father or how wretched his life had become.

“You have to leave now,” Seymour said suddenly, coming out from behind the counter. “I’m shutting up early.”

It was only three o’clock, but Karl and Dawn stood aside to let him past, realizing that Seymour had said all he was going to say. They followed him to the entrance, thanking him for his time and wishing him luck. But Seymour wasn’t interested in pleasantries, muttering to himself and holding the door open impatiently.

As they left the store, Seymour asked, “Did you find any of the others? The other assistants, I mean.”

“No,” Dawn said. “They’ve all disappeared, or changed their names.”

He lowered his eyes, staring at the rain splashing off the pavement. Lost in his miserable thoughts. “Good for them,” he said softly, pulling up his sweat pants. Then he closed the door and flipped the blinds.