Vendetta update
I feel bad that it's been three months, but the good news is that "Vendetta" is still very much alive! So, without further ado, here's Chapter 4.
Laughing, Circe brandished the knife at him. "I've come to finish the job," she said. She looked so young, so carefree. Vidcund tried to call for help but intense fear left him mute and motionless.
"How did you get in here?" he would have asked if he could have spoken.
She heard his unspoken question. "I'm a doctor, silly. Nobody would dare question me for coming into a hospital."
Behind him, Loki boomed, "She's mine. You can never have her." At the same time, Circe brought the knife down, sawing into the flesh of his forehead.
Gasping, Vidcund opened his eyes. He had a pounding headache and the room seemed too dark and fuzzy. "How did that fucking bitch even get to me?" he muttered. He began to shiver with fear. It had only been a nightmare, but it was entirely possible Circe could walk in the door any minute and finish him off. Nothing as crude as a knife either.
When he collapsed, he and Crystal were on the way out the door to meet her boss. He remembered Crystal leaning over him and saying, "The ambulance's on its way. And I've called my boss to let her know we won't make it after all."
Vidcund squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been counting on meeting Crystal's boss. Damn Circe for poisoning him. How had she pulled that off anyway?
What if Crystal was in on it?
Just then, he heard a familiar female voice outside the door: "Can I go in now?" Vidcund pushed himself up, though he felt horribly drained of energy. Crystal walked into the room before he could get all the way out of bed.
"Hello, Vidcund."
"What are you doing here?" Vidcund asked.
"They're supposed to discharge you today. Boss said I could take off a little time to drive you home."
He groaned.
"You still look pretty bad," she said.
Of course he did. He felt like hell, but he didn't say anything. He was trying to decide if her concern was real or feigned.
He drew back, forcing himself to stand as upright as he could. "I have to wait for the doctor to come by first. Maybe you should go on to work."
Crystal shook her head. "I'll wait."
Before the tense silence could drag on much longer, the doctor came by. Proclaiming him fit for discharge, she signed off and swept out of the room in a flurry of motion. Crystal handed him his clothes and walked out. Vidcund managed to get changed just before the orderly showed up with a wheelchair.
He hadn't wanted the wheelchair but by the time they all got down to the parking lot, Vidcund had to admit he was glad to be spared the walk. Even in the wheelchair, he was trembling with weakness.
"So, Vidcund, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"What's with that vibe of extreme suspicion I'm getting from you?"
Vidcund shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Pssh. You realize that if I wanted you dead, I'd have been very slow to call that ambulance, if at all."
"You think I thought you were in cahoots with-" Vidcund cut himself off.
She laughed. "Ahah! I thought you might link me to Circe in your paranoia! I couldn't quite figure out why you were looking daggers at me upstairs but when I thought about it, I remembered you don't trust me." She shook her head in mock sorrow. "What's a girl got to do, Viddy? I help line up a job for you, I call the ambulance for you, what? Do I need to swear an oath of undying fidelity? If I did, you'd think I was bullshitting you and you'd be right."
"But you do want my house."
"Yes."
Vidcund thought that over for a bit. "If you're not helping Circe, then how did I get poisoned? She's been nowhere near the house."
Crystal bit her lip. "I'm afraid that's my fault."
"You just claimed you weren't working with her!"
"I know." Crystal tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "I really am sorry, Vidcund. I think I know how it might've happened. Lately, she's been at the grocery store every time I was there."
Vidcund tensed even more. "And?"
"So I have a habit of leaving my cart in one place…she must have switched the milk when I wasn't paying attention."
He cried out in frustration. "How could you? Don't you know you have to be careful around her?"
"I do now. I'm very sorry, Vidcund. I got poisoned too, just a little bit. You swig it like crazy, glass after glass. I just put it on my cereal so I got a lot less of it than you did."
"Seriously, Vidcund. I feel bad about this."
"Can we just go already?"
A few minutes later, Vidcund cleared his throat. "Crystal?"
She didn't answer.
"Crystal?"
"Do you need me to pull over?"
"No," he said gruffly. Vidcund hated to vomit for any reason and had been grimly fighting back his nausea. "I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implicitly accused you of collusion with Circe."
"All right. Thank you."
"One other question. Is there any chance I can still talk to your boss? Or has that position been filled already?"
"No, not yet, Vidcund."
He held his breath a minute. The hope he felt was almost painful. "Can we go straight to your job so I can talk to your boss?"
She still wouldn't look at him. "You're too sick to start a new job right now."
"If she wants me to start today, I will. Just let me talk to her, please."
"I don't even know if she's going to be in or not."
"You have a cell phone. Can't you call her?"
His stomach lurched, and Vidcund gasped at the wave of nausea that crashed over him. He took short breaths through his nose. Crystal pulled to the side of the road. Once Vidcund was sure he had his stomach under control, he said, "You can keep going. I won't make a mess."
"I hope not. If you puke all over the inside of my car, I'm going to be pissed."
"I won't vomit in your vehicle."
"You're not in shape to even talk to her."
"Crystal, please call her and see if she's in."
"Before I do, I have to tell you something. I was going to tell you yesterday on the way over."
Vidcund slumped. "What is it?"
"Once you meet the boss, you'll pretty much have to take the job she offers you, even if you don't want to do it."
"Eh?"
"It could be…shady. Maybe."
"It's illegal, you mean."
"Well…."
"Dammit! Even as an ex-con, I should have the chance to work at something respectable!"
"I'm sorry, Vidcund. I already know what she has in mind. I didn't think you'd be too particular."
"I have my limits as to what I'll do."
"I'm sure you do."
Vidcund's skin prickled at that but he felt too unwell to pursue the subject just then.
"If you don't want to meet her, you don't have to."
"You know, somehow I'm not terribly surprised by this. When you said she wouldn't give a rat's ass what General Grunt said, to quote your words, I had an inkling of what might happen." He shrugged. "Fine. If it's not a job being a thug or a hitman, I'm in. Call the 'office,' Crystal."
The "office" really was an office, at least on the outside. And on the inside too, to Vidcund's surprise. Crystal led him inside, through a reception area that struck him as strangely empty, and up a flight of stairs. He was glad she led the way; he had to lean on the railing as he climbed the stairs.
Stopping before a closed door, Crystal whispered, "Give me a moment to check with her first." He nodded. She popped right back out, put a finger on her lips, and gestured for him to follow her.
Vidcund was surprised. He'd expected someone younger for some reason, not this hard-faced, aged woman. Her eyes flicked over both of them as she tapped away at her keyboard but she didn't speak. Crystal shot him a nervous look.
"Hello, Vidcund Curious. My name is Chloe. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said in a warm voice he didn't expect. "I wasn't expecting to meet you for another day or two."
He smiled back at her as best as he could. It didn't help that this woman went by his dead sister's name. Crystal should have warned him about that. "I appreciate this."
Some of the warmth left Chloe's expression. "Crystal told me she explained that the work I have for you might be frowned on by some."
"Yes, ma'am, I know. She said if I came here, I'd committed myself already."
"Oh, no, not quite. But this is your last chance to back out." Chloe's gaze became piercing. "If you have any reservations, then you need to leave now. And say nothing about this place. Because I will find out if you do talk."
"I can keep my mouth shut, and I've come too far as it is."
She bestowed another warm smile on him then. "All right. Why don't we go upstairs so I can show you what I have in mind?"
Vidcund trudged up the stairs. Crystal was behind him so he couldn't lean on the railing as much. He didn't know how he was going to get through the rest of this day but he'd have to manage somehow. Maybe it was something he could do sitting down.
"Crystal told me you used to work at Delexatech Labs. Can I assume you're familiar with operating machinery and working with chemical supplies?"
"Yes," he said as he stared unhappily at the counterfeiting machine. "I've never operated one of these before though."
"I'll train you," she said.
He swallowed. The machine's wear and tear was evident and made him nervous. "What happened to your last counterfeiter?" he asked.
"He didn't blow himself up in here if that's what you're worried about," said Chloe. "He got into a highly unfortunate dispute with another one of my people." Her eyes grew steely. "I don't expect everyone who works for me to love each other, but I don't tolerate protracted infighting. I hope that's quite clear."
"All right," said Vidcund. "I'm ready to start now."
"No, you're not, dear boy," she said. "I know the Grim Reaper almost came for you. Crystal, take him home then get back here. Vidcund, I'll see you back here at 7 o'clock night after tomorrow."
"Thank you so much," said Vidcund through gritted teeth.
"You must really need this job. You didn't even ask but I'll pay you §500 a week."
Vidcund was happy to take it.
To his horror, Nervous Subject found himself at the bottom of a deep pit. Dirt flaked down from the sides of the pit, dusting his skin.
The pit's sides appeared to be crumbling. He had to escape before the dirt engulfed him completely.
If he could just reach the open air, he would be fine. But even as Nervous struggled up towards the sky, he felt the bottom of the pit drop out from under him. He began to fall slowly. His heart hammered. He couldn't breathe, not with dirt pressing in all around. Grit filled his nose and mouth. There was no air to be had; he was about to die.
Nervous found himself lying in bed. His heartrate and breathing slowed as he realized he was safe from the pit. He was in General Grunt's house now, he remembered. And yet, even in bed on the second floor, high above the menacing ground, he wasn't safe. Nervous shuddered.
Despite the season, the air streaming from the window chilled him. Nervous got up to close the window, aware that the clamminess he felt wasn't just the night air. He was thinking about a different pit, one that meant home and safety to him. That pit had walls that kept all the dirt out. Nervous gulped. There was something uncomfortable about remembering that. His jaw felt tense, like his teeth were on the verge of chattering.
In the bedroom below, Buzz lay in bed, worried. When the cries first woke him, he soon realized the young man was having some kind of nightmare. Buzz wanted to go upstairs and quiet him down. However, knowing he was a stranger to his son, he stayed put. Before long, the cries cut off. Listening, Buzz heard the young man get up to close the window. Next, he heard a drawer open and close, before the bed creaked.
Buzz sighed and glanced at the clock but it was too dark to see its face. In the morning, he would have to take the young man back to the base. The officers leading the investigation wished to question the John Doe about his memories, if any, of his live burial. There would also be a psychiatrist in attendance. Buzz hoped it would go well and yield useful information but after what he just heard, he wasn't so sure.
The next morning, Buzz looked in on his son, who was still asleep. Buzz had no idea how long it'd taken his son to fall back asleep. He himself had lain awake for a long time last night. He'd drunk two strong cups of coffee to make up for it, and was thinking about another. But first, time to wake his slugabed houseguest.
His son twitched and jerked awake. "What do you want?" he said in a groggy voice.
"I need to take you back to the base today. They're going to ask you some questions as part of the investigation, and that meeting's scheduled for 10:30 a.m. So go take a shower and I'll be back up shortly to help you find something to wear. Hurry up now."
Anxious about what the day held in store for him, Nervous pulled himself out of bed and began to get ready.
"Now remember what we discussed in the car," Buzz reminded the young man.
"I'll try."
Buzz himself felt a little shaky that morning. His son's palpable unease was affecting him too. In addition, getting him dressed hadn't gone as smoothly as Buzz wanted. He'd planned to just use one of Tank's old jackets, but Tank's jackets were far too large. So were Tank's shirts. It hurt Buzz to do it, but he'd gone into Ripp's room and grabbed a dress shirt and a jacket. A pair of his own trousers sufficed but the young man's feet were too big for anyone's shoes except Tank's, which didn't match Ripp's old jacket at all. At that point, Buzz just shook his head mentally. He wanted his eldest son to appear poised and confident before the investigators, but it just wasn't happening, either in attitude or in dress.
Forcing a reassuring smile, he said, "Well, let's get you settled, shall we? Want some water or coffee?"
"No."
"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" his son said.
"Oh, no, no, not at all. Just answer their questions honestly and it'll be fine."
Buzz pointed out the seat he should take, aware the investigators would arrive shortly. Just then, his secretary arrived and snapped a salute at him. "Good morning, Corporal Lemoore," Buzz responded, keeping an eye on his son. "Sit down here. This is the John Doe we're interviewing for the investigation. I expect a copy of your notes not less than two hours after the conclusion of this meeting."
"Yes, sir," said Lemoore.
"Don't fidget," Buzz murmured as they waited. It was already 10:30, and the minutes ticked by. His son interlaced his fingers tightly, the knuckles turning white.
Finally, Colonel Reedley and Major Sanger walked briskly into the room. "Good morning, General Grunt, sir," she said. "I do apologize for our lateness."
"At ease," said Buzz. "I thought there was a third?"
"He's coming, sir," said the colonel.
"Hello, hello, good morning," said the elderly man who walked slowly into the room. "Those two walk so fast, how could I keep up?"
"For the record, Corporal," Buzz said, "this is Dr. Jeremy Nour." He gave the additional information about the hospital to Lemoore as the three new arrivals took their seats.
"All right, this meeting is called to order," said Buzz. "As part of the investigation concerning Radio Tower 4-2, we have here the John Doe who was found on the premises. Colonel Reedley and Major Sanger will question John Doe, and Dr. Nour will also take the time to assess his mental condition. Now, let's proceed. Colonel?"
"Thank you, sir," the colonel said.
After a couple of preliminary comments, she turned the bulk of the questioning over to Major Sanger. Buzz watched in silence as the major pressed the young man for his name, his address, and his recollection of what brought him to Radio Tower 4-2. The young man kept saying, "I don't have a name and I live in the pit of a big house." Major Sanger would then ask a question or two about how he came to be found buried alive next to the radio tower. Again, the young man would say, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"How can you say you don't have a name?" persisted Major Sanger.
"I just don't have one."
"You mean you don't remember it."
"Stand down, Major," said Colonel Reedley. "Did you not read the file? He showed signs of amnesia at the hospital. Discontinue that line of questioning."
"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry."
"Dr. Nour, what is your opinion of this?"
"Well, after reviewing his file and seeing him today, it is quite possible that the anoxia he suffered would prevent him from ever remembering what happened right before and during the ordeal of his live burial." Dr. Nour glanced at the John Doe. "Does my talking about this upset you, young man?"
The John Doe didn't answer but just stared straight ahead.
Dr. Nour sighed. "I really should meet with him privately." He glanced at his clipboard. "I'd like to see him for an hour session in a week. He may never remember what happened just before his live burial. Anoxia can and does cause trauma to the brain that would disrupt the establishment of the relevant memories. However, he should be able to remember who he is and where he lives. That he doesn't strongly suggests that there's a repression of certain uncomfortable memories."
"Should he be hospitalized again?" Buzz asked.
"I don't see any reason for that, unless he's still physically unwell in some way or threatening to harm himself or others. But a few sessions with me or some other mental health professional might help him recover those memories."
"Thank you for your statement, doctor," Buzz said. "All right, then. Colonel Reedley, I order you to put this part of the investigation on hold. I'm going to authorize a private session with Dr. Nour next week, and we will proceed from there. Everything else should be wrapped up by then."
"Yes, sir," said Colonel Reedley. "I also request permission to arrange the necessary housing since we don't know where he lives for the time being."
"I have a large house," said Buzz. "I can put him up there myself, colonel."
"Really, sir?"
"We might as well save funding where we can." Buzz gave the young man a nod. "If you prefer other arrangements, let us know. We're responsible for your well-being." Once his son mumbled something that sounded like vague assent, Buzz then said, "Meeting adjourned. Colonel Reedley, submit a report by the end of the day. Dr. Nour, you'll be hearing from us soon about scheduling a session."
Though reasonably confident of the match between his DNA and the young man's, Buzz thought it would be good to ask for a DNA sample from Olive Specter just to make sure. The young man's lack of a name bothered him too. Whatever name Olive had picked, Buzz would try it out on the young man. Maybe it would trigger those blocked memories. At least it beat using "hey you."
If only it wasn't necessary to talk to her again.
The young man was reading a book in the living room when Buzz checked on him. Without saying a word, Buzz left the house and struck out across the same path across the desert. His stomach tightened. He reminded himself he was a man well grown, with authority and autonomy.
Of course all that tended to shrivel away in the shadow of Olive's mansion. Buzz looked around for the intercom button. There wasn't one, so he knocked. A soft rapping at first, his knocking grew louder. He stopped and waited. Olive didn't come out though, even after repeated knocking.
If Buzz had to, he could vault over the wrought iron fencing, but he didn't care to risk those spikes. The gate was good enough. Despite being higher than everything else, it offered hand- and footholds he could easily use.
Buzz shuddered at the sight of the tombstones. He didn't remember that many, but Olive had whisked him inside before he could take a good look.
He forced himself to turn towards the front door.
He knocked but no one came to the door. Exasperated, Buzz shouted through the door: "I know you're in there. This is Buzz Grunt! I need to talk to you about our son!"
"Our son, you say?"
"Yes, our son. You let them take him away! You could have contacted me first!" Now that he was face to face with Olive, Buzz was determined to have it out. "How could you do it?"
Olive sighed and pushed the door open. "Since you're obviously intent on badgering an old woman about events twenty years gone, you might as well come in." Her lips curled in the semblance of a smile. "Care for a glass of wine?"
"No way!"
She chuckled. "I assure you I wouldn't get pregnant this time."
"Quit playing with me!"
"All right. I'm not going to stand here and argue like a fishwife though. Let's have a seat in my sitting room."
"I think right here is good enough," Buzz growled. He was tense enough here as it was. He didn't care to venture further into the spider's den. While Olive took her seat, he dragged the spare chair up to the table. The wood surface ached with brittleness. He grimaced. Wood didn't last in the desert unless it was properly oiled on a regular basis. And he saw plenty of other signs of this place going downhill.
"Close the door," said Olive.
Buzz wrinkled his nose as he did so. Hot and stuffy, the house was badly in need of an airing. At least he wouldn't be staying long.
"So. Explain yourself, young man. Why have you trespassed on my property and shouted at me through my locked door? What is it about this ancient history that justifies such a thing?"
For just a moment, Buzz once again was that frightened teenage boy who left nearly at a run that night long ago.
The general immediately took over from the frightened teenager. "No, you explain yourself, Olive," Buzz said, injecting as much force as he could into his speech without shouting. "You let our son be taken away without even letting me know. Yes, I know I was just a boy in my father's house. I could've helped you somehow. My father would've insisted I do the right thing by you anyway. After chewing me out up one side and down the other."
She snorted. "When I had Ichabod Specter in my sights? I don't think so, and Chip Grunt couldn't have made me marry anyone I didn't want to." She looked him up and down. "I missed my bet on that one, I think…. I told you to keep your yap shut since I didn't want your father blowing the whole thing up into a scandal. What I don't understand is why you're here now, kicking up a fuss about it. Some twenty years ago, you might have had a better chance of actually tracking the child down."
"Twenty years and then some," said Buzz. "I came today because I finally found him."
Surprise and alarm flashed across Olive's face. "And this concerns me, how?"
Appalled by her cold response, Buzz said, "Well, I thought you might be at least a little bit interested. I should've known. Okay, fine, you don't care, but I do, and one thing I want is to make sure is that he really is our son. That means I want a DNA sample from you so I can make sure his DNA matches yours as well as mine."
"I'm not inclined to let myself be jabbed with a needle just to satisfy your curiosity and his."
Buzz gave her a stern look. "All it takes is a swab from inside the mouth or a couple of hairs. Can you do at least that much? I won't send him over here for a joyful reunion between mother and son, if that's what's worrying you. Just give me the damn sample and I'll go."
"Such concern for a child you never even set eyes on until recently." Olive gave a dramatic sigh. "So touching. Lyla was so lucky to have you, wasn't she? An ambitious young husband, three lovely children, a charming house."
"What," said Buzz, "is that supposed to mean?" Why the hell had Olive brought that up? He knew Lyla had been unhappy. So unhappy she took her clothes and just vanished one night. Buzz had to work very late that night, and she knew it, waiting until the boys were sound asleep. If she chose never to speak to him again, he could deal with that, but how could she cut her sons out of her life so thoroughly?
"So let me get this straight, I come to you with news of our son and instead, you talk to me about my wife? Why bring that up at all?"
"Because Lyla came knocking at my door the night she left you."
"What?" cried Buzz.
Olive smiled. "All right, not exactly. She was in a taxi late that night. A taxi broken down by the side of the road. I was just coming home from work in another taxi myself, and to my great annoyance, my driver stopped to help hers. By the time the problem was sorted out, we'd had a nice little chat and she mentioned that she was leaving town."
Hoarsely, Buzz said, "She told you that? Did she tell you why?"
"She said she was tired of being married to a dull clod who had no idea how to relate to a woman." Olive clicked her tongue. "Really, Buzz, it shouldn't have been that hard to keep her happy."
"Did she tell you where she was going?" Buzz asked.
"She might have," Olive said casually. "I really don't remember where she intended to go."
"You're lying to me," Buzz said in a louder voice. "If she told you something of why she left me, then I'm sure she told you where she was heading." A cold feeling twisted inside him. "Did she come back here with you?"
"Oh, yes she did, indeed."
Horror washed over Buzz as he thought of all those gravestones. Even after accounting for her dead relatives, there were far too many tombstones out in her yard. Had that been where Lyla was these past few years? It would certainly explain why they had never heard from her again. Old rage roiled within him. Buzz was more than happy to transfer that rage to Olive.
"You murdering bitch!" He grabbed her by the throat. "Confess! You killed her, didn't you?"
She tried to shake her head. "No I didn't. I actually was going to try to persuade her to return to you."
At that, Buzz released her. He could think of no good reason why Olive would want Lyla to return to him. "Why would you even care enough to do that?"
Olive glared at him before sinking back down in her chair. "You're determined to think of me as a monster, no matter what, aren't you? I do regret that night, believe it or not."
"Only because it got you pregnant."
"If that's what you want to believe."
Buzz swallowed hard. "Is Lyla really buried out there?" For several years, he'd hoped that he would hear news of her, or that the boys would receive word from her. Whatever her problems with him, she'd been a loving and attentive mother to their sons. Even when Ripp and Buck had died at that travesty of a party they were forbidden to attend, he'd expected to hear something from her, and had been hurt when no word came.
Olive nodded. "It's a shame, really. I suggested that it was so late she would be better off staying the night with me. Imagine my horror when I heard a gurgling wail come from the guest suite. I ran to look, and found her dead in the bathtub. Somehow she had dragged her hair dryer into the tub and electrocuted herself." Olive grimaced. "It was grisly."
"Then why the hell didn't you call the police?"
"Since she had already told me she was leaving town, I didn't think she would be missed."
Clenching his fists, Buzz rose over her. "You're going to show me which grave is hers and then I'm going to call the police."
She glanced at him. "I wouldn't do that."
Buzz caught the menace in her look and her tone. "You did kill her, didn't you? What's going to stop me from reporting you to the police?"
Lifting an eyebrow at him, she said, "Well, I could go to the newspapers, tell them the reason you demanded a DNA sample from me." She held his gaze. "I could claim you trespassed on my property and when I confronted you, you raped me." She grinned. "It would be an easy way for me to smear your reputation, wouldn't it?"
"Damn you to the Grim Reaper's bony clutches," he said.
She gave a dry chuckle. "Not much of a curse, my dear General Grunt. The Grim Reaper will come for me before much longer. I don't want you to call the police because I'm an old woman and I want my peace. I do have the grandfathered right to have a family cemetary here, and I don't want law enforcement mucking about the place."
Buzz narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't believe that she just didn't want to be disturbed, but he took her threat seriously.
She said, "You can have the DNA sample. Test it anonymously and verify for yourself if you like, but I don't want the town to know that my son was found. Nor do I want him showing up here. Is that clear?" At his nod, she added, "Once I'm dead, you can have Lyla's body exhumed and transported wherever you like."
"You can at least show me which grave is hers."
"I'll do that, then open the gate for you to leave."
As they walked outside, he asked, "What did you name him?"
"The child?"
"Yes."
"I never bothered to name him."
Buzz couldn't believe his ears. How could she have so little feeling she wouldn't at least try to name the baby?
He didn't know where the Grim Reaper took dead sims, but he hoped Ripp and Buck were reunited with their mother. It was no comfort to him though to lose the hope that Lyla might someday return. Olive lied when it suited her, obviously, but his gut told her she was truthful about this grave being Lyla's.
Laughing, Circe brandished the knife at him. "I've come to finish the job," she said. She looked so young, so carefree. Vidcund tried to call for help but intense fear left him mute and motionless.
"How did you get in here?" he would have asked if he could have spoken.
She heard his unspoken question. "I'm a doctor, silly. Nobody would dare question me for coming into a hospital."
Behind him, Loki boomed, "She's mine. You can never have her." At the same time, Circe brought the knife down, sawing into the flesh of his forehead.
Gasping, Vidcund opened his eyes. He had a pounding headache and the room seemed too dark and fuzzy. "How did that fucking bitch even get to me?" he muttered. He began to shiver with fear. It had only been a nightmare, but it was entirely possible Circe could walk in the door any minute and finish him off. Nothing as crude as a knife either.
When he collapsed, he and Crystal were on the way out the door to meet her boss. He remembered Crystal leaning over him and saying, "The ambulance's on its way. And I've called my boss to let her know we won't make it after all."
Vidcund squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been counting on meeting Crystal's boss. Damn Circe for poisoning him. How had she pulled that off anyway?
What if Crystal was in on it?
Just then, he heard a familiar female voice outside the door: "Can I go in now?" Vidcund pushed himself up, though he felt horribly drained of energy. Crystal walked into the room before he could get all the way out of bed.
"Hello, Vidcund."
"What are you doing here?" Vidcund asked.
"They're supposed to discharge you today. Boss said I could take off a little time to drive you home."
He groaned.
"You still look pretty bad," she said.
Of course he did. He felt like hell, but he didn't say anything. He was trying to decide if her concern was real or feigned.
He drew back, forcing himself to stand as upright as he could. "I have to wait for the doctor to come by first. Maybe you should go on to work."
Crystal shook her head. "I'll wait."
Before the tense silence could drag on much longer, the doctor came by. Proclaiming him fit for discharge, she signed off and swept out of the room in a flurry of motion. Crystal handed him his clothes and walked out. Vidcund managed to get changed just before the orderly showed up with a wheelchair.
He hadn't wanted the wheelchair but by the time they all got down to the parking lot, Vidcund had to admit he was glad to be spared the walk. Even in the wheelchair, he was trembling with weakness.
"So, Vidcund, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"What's with that vibe of extreme suspicion I'm getting from you?"
Vidcund shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Pssh. You realize that if I wanted you dead, I'd have been very slow to call that ambulance, if at all."
"You think I thought you were in cahoots with-" Vidcund cut himself off.
She laughed. "Ahah! I thought you might link me to Circe in your paranoia! I couldn't quite figure out why you were looking daggers at me upstairs but when I thought about it, I remembered you don't trust me." She shook her head in mock sorrow. "What's a girl got to do, Viddy? I help line up a job for you, I call the ambulance for you, what? Do I need to swear an oath of undying fidelity? If I did, you'd think I was bullshitting you and you'd be right."
"But you do want my house."
"Yes."
Vidcund thought that over for a bit. "If you're not helping Circe, then how did I get poisoned? She's been nowhere near the house."
Crystal bit her lip. "I'm afraid that's my fault."
"You just claimed you weren't working with her!"
"I know." Crystal tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "I really am sorry, Vidcund. I think I know how it might've happened. Lately, she's been at the grocery store every time I was there."
Vidcund tensed even more. "And?"
"So I have a habit of leaving my cart in one place…she must have switched the milk when I wasn't paying attention."
He cried out in frustration. "How could you? Don't you know you have to be careful around her?"
"I do now. I'm very sorry, Vidcund. I got poisoned too, just a little bit. You swig it like crazy, glass after glass. I just put it on my cereal so I got a lot less of it than you did."
"Seriously, Vidcund. I feel bad about this."
"Can we just go already?"
A few minutes later, Vidcund cleared his throat. "Crystal?"
She didn't answer.
"Crystal?"
"Do you need me to pull over?"
"No," he said gruffly. Vidcund hated to vomit for any reason and had been grimly fighting back his nausea. "I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implicitly accused you of collusion with Circe."
"All right. Thank you."
"One other question. Is there any chance I can still talk to your boss? Or has that position been filled already?"
"No, not yet, Vidcund."
He held his breath a minute. The hope he felt was almost painful. "Can we go straight to your job so I can talk to your boss?"
She still wouldn't look at him. "You're too sick to start a new job right now."
"If she wants me to start today, I will. Just let me talk to her, please."
"I don't even know if she's going to be in or not."
"You have a cell phone. Can't you call her?"
His stomach lurched, and Vidcund gasped at the wave of nausea that crashed over him. He took short breaths through his nose. Crystal pulled to the side of the road. Once Vidcund was sure he had his stomach under control, he said, "You can keep going. I won't make a mess."
"I hope not. If you puke all over the inside of my car, I'm going to be pissed."
"I won't vomit in your vehicle."
"You're not in shape to even talk to her."
"Crystal, please call her and see if she's in."
"Before I do, I have to tell you something. I was going to tell you yesterday on the way over."
Vidcund slumped. "What is it?"
"Once you meet the boss, you'll pretty much have to take the job she offers you, even if you don't want to do it."
"Eh?"
"It could be…shady. Maybe."
"It's illegal, you mean."
"Well…."
"Dammit! Even as an ex-con, I should have the chance to work at something respectable!"
"I'm sorry, Vidcund. I already know what she has in mind. I didn't think you'd be too particular."
"I have my limits as to what I'll do."
"I'm sure you do."
Vidcund's skin prickled at that but he felt too unwell to pursue the subject just then.
"If you don't want to meet her, you don't have to."
"You know, somehow I'm not terribly surprised by this. When you said she wouldn't give a rat's ass what General Grunt said, to quote your words, I had an inkling of what might happen." He shrugged. "Fine. If it's not a job being a thug or a hitman, I'm in. Call the 'office,' Crystal."
The "office" really was an office, at least on the outside. And on the inside too, to Vidcund's surprise. Crystal led him inside, through a reception area that struck him as strangely empty, and up a flight of stairs. He was glad she led the way; he had to lean on the railing as he climbed the stairs.
Stopping before a closed door, Crystal whispered, "Give me a moment to check with her first." He nodded. She popped right back out, put a finger on her lips, and gestured for him to follow her.
Vidcund was surprised. He'd expected someone younger for some reason, not this hard-faced, aged woman. Her eyes flicked over both of them as she tapped away at her keyboard but she didn't speak. Crystal shot him a nervous look.
"Hello, Vidcund Curious. My name is Chloe. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said in a warm voice he didn't expect. "I wasn't expecting to meet you for another day or two."
He smiled back at her as best as he could. It didn't help that this woman went by his dead sister's name. Crystal should have warned him about that. "I appreciate this."
Some of the warmth left Chloe's expression. "Crystal told me she explained that the work I have for you might be frowned on by some."
"Yes, ma'am, I know. She said if I came here, I'd committed myself already."
"Oh, no, not quite. But this is your last chance to back out." Chloe's gaze became piercing. "If you have any reservations, then you need to leave now. And say nothing about this place. Because I will find out if you do talk."
"I can keep my mouth shut, and I've come too far as it is."
She bestowed another warm smile on him then. "All right. Why don't we go upstairs so I can show you what I have in mind?"
Vidcund trudged up the stairs. Crystal was behind him so he couldn't lean on the railing as much. He didn't know how he was going to get through the rest of this day but he'd have to manage somehow. Maybe it was something he could do sitting down.
"Crystal told me you used to work at Delexatech Labs. Can I assume you're familiar with operating machinery and working with chemical supplies?"
"Yes," he said as he stared unhappily at the counterfeiting machine. "I've never operated one of these before though."
"I'll train you," she said.
He swallowed. The machine's wear and tear was evident and made him nervous. "What happened to your last counterfeiter?" he asked.
"He didn't blow himself up in here if that's what you're worried about," said Chloe. "He got into a highly unfortunate dispute with another one of my people." Her eyes grew steely. "I don't expect everyone who works for me to love each other, but I don't tolerate protracted infighting. I hope that's quite clear."
"All right," said Vidcund. "I'm ready to start now."
"No, you're not, dear boy," she said. "I know the Grim Reaper almost came for you. Crystal, take him home then get back here. Vidcund, I'll see you back here at 7 o'clock night after tomorrow."
"Thank you so much," said Vidcund through gritted teeth.
"You must really need this job. You didn't even ask but I'll pay you §500 a week."
Vidcund was happy to take it.
To his horror, Nervous Subject found himself at the bottom of a deep pit. Dirt flaked down from the sides of the pit, dusting his skin.
The pit's sides appeared to be crumbling. He had to escape before the dirt engulfed him completely.
If he could just reach the open air, he would be fine. But even as Nervous struggled up towards the sky, he felt the bottom of the pit drop out from under him. He began to fall slowly. His heart hammered. He couldn't breathe, not with dirt pressing in all around. Grit filled his nose and mouth. There was no air to be had; he was about to die.
Nervous found himself lying in bed. His heartrate and breathing slowed as he realized he was safe from the pit. He was in General Grunt's house now, he remembered. And yet, even in bed on the second floor, high above the menacing ground, he wasn't safe. Nervous shuddered.
Despite the season, the air streaming from the window chilled him. Nervous got up to close the window, aware that the clamminess he felt wasn't just the night air. He was thinking about a different pit, one that meant home and safety to him. That pit had walls that kept all the dirt out. Nervous gulped. There was something uncomfortable about remembering that. His jaw felt tense, like his teeth were on the verge of chattering.
In the bedroom below, Buzz lay in bed, worried. When the cries first woke him, he soon realized the young man was having some kind of nightmare. Buzz wanted to go upstairs and quiet him down. However, knowing he was a stranger to his son, he stayed put. Before long, the cries cut off. Listening, Buzz heard the young man get up to close the window. Next, he heard a drawer open and close, before the bed creaked.
Buzz sighed and glanced at the clock but it was too dark to see its face. In the morning, he would have to take the young man back to the base. The officers leading the investigation wished to question the John Doe about his memories, if any, of his live burial. There would also be a psychiatrist in attendance. Buzz hoped it would go well and yield useful information but after what he just heard, he wasn't so sure.
The next morning, Buzz looked in on his son, who was still asleep. Buzz had no idea how long it'd taken his son to fall back asleep. He himself had lain awake for a long time last night. He'd drunk two strong cups of coffee to make up for it, and was thinking about another. But first, time to wake his slugabed houseguest.
His son twitched and jerked awake. "What do you want?" he said in a groggy voice.
"I need to take you back to the base today. They're going to ask you some questions as part of the investigation, and that meeting's scheduled for 10:30 a.m. So go take a shower and I'll be back up shortly to help you find something to wear. Hurry up now."
Anxious about what the day held in store for him, Nervous pulled himself out of bed and began to get ready.
"Now remember what we discussed in the car," Buzz reminded the young man.
"I'll try."
Buzz himself felt a little shaky that morning. His son's palpable unease was affecting him too. In addition, getting him dressed hadn't gone as smoothly as Buzz wanted. He'd planned to just use one of Tank's old jackets, but Tank's jackets were far too large. So were Tank's shirts. It hurt Buzz to do it, but he'd gone into Ripp's room and grabbed a dress shirt and a jacket. A pair of his own trousers sufficed but the young man's feet were too big for anyone's shoes except Tank's, which didn't match Ripp's old jacket at all. At that point, Buzz just shook his head mentally. He wanted his eldest son to appear poised and confident before the investigators, but it just wasn't happening, either in attitude or in dress.
Forcing a reassuring smile, he said, "Well, let's get you settled, shall we? Want some water or coffee?"
"No."
"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" his son said.
"Oh, no, no, not at all. Just answer their questions honestly and it'll be fine."
Buzz pointed out the seat he should take, aware the investigators would arrive shortly. Just then, his secretary arrived and snapped a salute at him. "Good morning, Corporal Lemoore," Buzz responded, keeping an eye on his son. "Sit down here. This is the John Doe we're interviewing for the investigation. I expect a copy of your notes not less than two hours after the conclusion of this meeting."
"Yes, sir," said Lemoore.
"Don't fidget," Buzz murmured as they waited. It was already 10:30, and the minutes ticked by. His son interlaced his fingers tightly, the knuckles turning white.
Finally, Colonel Reedley and Major Sanger walked briskly into the room. "Good morning, General Grunt, sir," she said. "I do apologize for our lateness."
"At ease," said Buzz. "I thought there was a third?"
"He's coming, sir," said the colonel.
"Hello, hello, good morning," said the elderly man who walked slowly into the room. "Those two walk so fast, how could I keep up?"
"For the record, Corporal," Buzz said, "this is Dr. Jeremy Nour." He gave the additional information about the hospital to Lemoore as the three new arrivals took their seats.
"All right, this meeting is called to order," said Buzz. "As part of the investigation concerning Radio Tower 4-2, we have here the John Doe who was found on the premises. Colonel Reedley and Major Sanger will question John Doe, and Dr. Nour will also take the time to assess his mental condition. Now, let's proceed. Colonel?"
"Thank you, sir," the colonel said.
After a couple of preliminary comments, she turned the bulk of the questioning over to Major Sanger. Buzz watched in silence as the major pressed the young man for his name, his address, and his recollection of what brought him to Radio Tower 4-2. The young man kept saying, "I don't have a name and I live in the pit of a big house." Major Sanger would then ask a question or two about how he came to be found buried alive next to the radio tower. Again, the young man would say, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"How can you say you don't have a name?" persisted Major Sanger.
"I just don't have one."
"You mean you don't remember it."
"Stand down, Major," said Colonel Reedley. "Did you not read the file? He showed signs of amnesia at the hospital. Discontinue that line of questioning."
"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry."
"Dr. Nour, what is your opinion of this?"
"Well, after reviewing his file and seeing him today, it is quite possible that the anoxia he suffered would prevent him from ever remembering what happened right before and during the ordeal of his live burial." Dr. Nour glanced at the John Doe. "Does my talking about this upset you, young man?"
The John Doe didn't answer but just stared straight ahead.
Dr. Nour sighed. "I really should meet with him privately." He glanced at his clipboard. "I'd like to see him for an hour session in a week. He may never remember what happened just before his live burial. Anoxia can and does cause trauma to the brain that would disrupt the establishment of the relevant memories. However, he should be able to remember who he is and where he lives. That he doesn't strongly suggests that there's a repression of certain uncomfortable memories."
"Should he be hospitalized again?" Buzz asked.
"I don't see any reason for that, unless he's still physically unwell in some way or threatening to harm himself or others. But a few sessions with me or some other mental health professional might help him recover those memories."
"Thank you for your statement, doctor," Buzz said. "All right, then. Colonel Reedley, I order you to put this part of the investigation on hold. I'm going to authorize a private session with Dr. Nour next week, and we will proceed from there. Everything else should be wrapped up by then."
"Yes, sir," said Colonel Reedley. "I also request permission to arrange the necessary housing since we don't know where he lives for the time being."
"I have a large house," said Buzz. "I can put him up there myself, colonel."
"Really, sir?"
"We might as well save funding where we can." Buzz gave the young man a nod. "If you prefer other arrangements, let us know. We're responsible for your well-being." Once his son mumbled something that sounded like vague assent, Buzz then said, "Meeting adjourned. Colonel Reedley, submit a report by the end of the day. Dr. Nour, you'll be hearing from us soon about scheduling a session."
Though reasonably confident of the match between his DNA and the young man's, Buzz thought it would be good to ask for a DNA sample from Olive Specter just to make sure. The young man's lack of a name bothered him too. Whatever name Olive had picked, Buzz would try it out on the young man. Maybe it would trigger those blocked memories. At least it beat using "hey you."
If only it wasn't necessary to talk to her again.
The young man was reading a book in the living room when Buzz checked on him. Without saying a word, Buzz left the house and struck out across the same path across the desert. His stomach tightened. He reminded himself he was a man well grown, with authority and autonomy.
Of course all that tended to shrivel away in the shadow of Olive's mansion. Buzz looked around for the intercom button. There wasn't one, so he knocked. A soft rapping at first, his knocking grew louder. He stopped and waited. Olive didn't come out though, even after repeated knocking.
If Buzz had to, he could vault over the wrought iron fencing, but he didn't care to risk those spikes. The gate was good enough. Despite being higher than everything else, it offered hand- and footholds he could easily use.
Buzz shuddered at the sight of the tombstones. He didn't remember that many, but Olive had whisked him inside before he could take a good look.
He forced himself to turn towards the front door.
He knocked but no one came to the door. Exasperated, Buzz shouted through the door: "I know you're in there. This is Buzz Grunt! I need to talk to you about our son!"
"Our son, you say?"
"Yes, our son. You let them take him away! You could have contacted me first!" Now that he was face to face with Olive, Buzz was determined to have it out. "How could you do it?"
Olive sighed and pushed the door open. "Since you're obviously intent on badgering an old woman about events twenty years gone, you might as well come in." Her lips curled in the semblance of a smile. "Care for a glass of wine?"
"No way!"
She chuckled. "I assure you I wouldn't get pregnant this time."
"Quit playing with me!"
"All right. I'm not going to stand here and argue like a fishwife though. Let's have a seat in my sitting room."
"I think right here is good enough," Buzz growled. He was tense enough here as it was. He didn't care to venture further into the spider's den. While Olive took her seat, he dragged the spare chair up to the table. The wood surface ached with brittleness. He grimaced. Wood didn't last in the desert unless it was properly oiled on a regular basis. And he saw plenty of other signs of this place going downhill.
"Close the door," said Olive.
Buzz wrinkled his nose as he did so. Hot and stuffy, the house was badly in need of an airing. At least he wouldn't be staying long.
"So. Explain yourself, young man. Why have you trespassed on my property and shouted at me through my locked door? What is it about this ancient history that justifies such a thing?"
For just a moment, Buzz once again was that frightened teenage boy who left nearly at a run that night long ago.
The general immediately took over from the frightened teenager. "No, you explain yourself, Olive," Buzz said, injecting as much force as he could into his speech without shouting. "You let our son be taken away without even letting me know. Yes, I know I was just a boy in my father's house. I could've helped you somehow. My father would've insisted I do the right thing by you anyway. After chewing me out up one side and down the other."
She snorted. "When I had Ichabod Specter in my sights? I don't think so, and Chip Grunt couldn't have made me marry anyone I didn't want to." She looked him up and down. "I missed my bet on that one, I think…. I told you to keep your yap shut since I didn't want your father blowing the whole thing up into a scandal. What I don't understand is why you're here now, kicking up a fuss about it. Some twenty years ago, you might have had a better chance of actually tracking the child down."
"Twenty years and then some," said Buzz. "I came today because I finally found him."
Surprise and alarm flashed across Olive's face. "And this concerns me, how?"
Appalled by her cold response, Buzz said, "Well, I thought you might be at least a little bit interested. I should've known. Okay, fine, you don't care, but I do, and one thing I want is to make sure is that he really is our son. That means I want a DNA sample from you so I can make sure his DNA matches yours as well as mine."
"I'm not inclined to let myself be jabbed with a needle just to satisfy your curiosity and his."
Buzz gave her a stern look. "All it takes is a swab from inside the mouth or a couple of hairs. Can you do at least that much? I won't send him over here for a joyful reunion between mother and son, if that's what's worrying you. Just give me the damn sample and I'll go."
"Such concern for a child you never even set eyes on until recently." Olive gave a dramatic sigh. "So touching. Lyla was so lucky to have you, wasn't she? An ambitious young husband, three lovely children, a charming house."
"What," said Buzz, "is that supposed to mean?" Why the hell had Olive brought that up? He knew Lyla had been unhappy. So unhappy she took her clothes and just vanished one night. Buzz had to work very late that night, and she knew it, waiting until the boys were sound asleep. If she chose never to speak to him again, he could deal with that, but how could she cut her sons out of her life so thoroughly?
"So let me get this straight, I come to you with news of our son and instead, you talk to me about my wife? Why bring that up at all?"
"Because Lyla came knocking at my door the night she left you."
"What?" cried Buzz.
Olive smiled. "All right, not exactly. She was in a taxi late that night. A taxi broken down by the side of the road. I was just coming home from work in another taxi myself, and to my great annoyance, my driver stopped to help hers. By the time the problem was sorted out, we'd had a nice little chat and she mentioned that she was leaving town."
Hoarsely, Buzz said, "She told you that? Did she tell you why?"
"She said she was tired of being married to a dull clod who had no idea how to relate to a woman." Olive clicked her tongue. "Really, Buzz, it shouldn't have been that hard to keep her happy."
"Did she tell you where she was going?" Buzz asked.
"She might have," Olive said casually. "I really don't remember where she intended to go."
"You're lying to me," Buzz said in a louder voice. "If she told you something of why she left me, then I'm sure she told you where she was heading." A cold feeling twisted inside him. "Did she come back here with you?"
"Oh, yes she did, indeed."
Horror washed over Buzz as he thought of all those gravestones. Even after accounting for her dead relatives, there were far too many tombstones out in her yard. Had that been where Lyla was these past few years? It would certainly explain why they had never heard from her again. Old rage roiled within him. Buzz was more than happy to transfer that rage to Olive.
"You murdering bitch!" He grabbed her by the throat. "Confess! You killed her, didn't you?"
She tried to shake her head. "No I didn't. I actually was going to try to persuade her to return to you."
At that, Buzz released her. He could think of no good reason why Olive would want Lyla to return to him. "Why would you even care enough to do that?"
Olive glared at him before sinking back down in her chair. "You're determined to think of me as a monster, no matter what, aren't you? I do regret that night, believe it or not."
"Only because it got you pregnant."
"If that's what you want to believe."
Buzz swallowed hard. "Is Lyla really buried out there?" For several years, he'd hoped that he would hear news of her, or that the boys would receive word from her. Whatever her problems with him, she'd been a loving and attentive mother to their sons. Even when Ripp and Buck had died at that travesty of a party they were forbidden to attend, he'd expected to hear something from her, and had been hurt when no word came.
Olive nodded. "It's a shame, really. I suggested that it was so late she would be better off staying the night with me. Imagine my horror when I heard a gurgling wail come from the guest suite. I ran to look, and found her dead in the bathtub. Somehow she had dragged her hair dryer into the tub and electrocuted herself." Olive grimaced. "It was grisly."
"Then why the hell didn't you call the police?"
"Since she had already told me she was leaving town, I didn't think she would be missed."
Clenching his fists, Buzz rose over her. "You're going to show me which grave is hers and then I'm going to call the police."
She glanced at him. "I wouldn't do that."
Buzz caught the menace in her look and her tone. "You did kill her, didn't you? What's going to stop me from reporting you to the police?"
Lifting an eyebrow at him, she said, "Well, I could go to the newspapers, tell them the reason you demanded a DNA sample from me." She held his gaze. "I could claim you trespassed on my property and when I confronted you, you raped me." She grinned. "It would be an easy way for me to smear your reputation, wouldn't it?"
"Damn you to the Grim Reaper's bony clutches," he said.
She gave a dry chuckle. "Not much of a curse, my dear General Grunt. The Grim Reaper will come for me before much longer. I don't want you to call the police because I'm an old woman and I want my peace. I do have the grandfathered right to have a family cemetary here, and I don't want law enforcement mucking about the place."
Buzz narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't believe that she just didn't want to be disturbed, but he took her threat seriously.
She said, "You can have the DNA sample. Test it anonymously and verify for yourself if you like, but I don't want the town to know that my son was found. Nor do I want him showing up here. Is that clear?" At his nod, she added, "Once I'm dead, you can have Lyla's body exhumed and transported wherever you like."
"You can at least show me which grave is hers."
"I'll do that, then open the gate for you to leave."
As they walked outside, he asked, "What did you name him?"
"The child?"
"Yes."
"I never bothered to name him."
Buzz couldn't believe his ears. How could she have so little feeling she wouldn't at least try to name the baby?
He didn't know where the Grim Reaper took dead sims, but he hoped Ripp and Buck were reunited with their mother. It was no comfort to him though to lose the hope that Lyla might someday return. Olive lied when it suited her, obviously, but his gut told her she was truthful about this grave being Lyla's.