Bad Jack

Chapter 1: Job Offer

Jack Mayberry folded up the printed email and stuffed it in his back pocket when he saw the stranger waiting for him at the booth. It was his favorite restaurant, just a few blocks from his apartment, so it was an easy call when he was asked to come up with a meeting place. The email hinted at a job offer; that was all Jack needed to get off his tired ass and give up a couple hours of his Sunday afternoon. He already had a job at Millworld supervising a bunch of illegal immigrants that fixed filthy used pallets, but he’d take a pay cut to get out.

As he approached, the man quickly turned in his seat, his expression paranoid. Jack smiled at him but the smile wasn’t returned. For a second he wasn’t sure this was the right guy. The man stood up from the booth and forced an uncomfortable smile that looked more like a pissed off scowl. He introduced himself as Mr. Humboldt; no first name was offered. He looked like a short Colonel Sanders, with grey hair instead of white. Unlike Colonel Sanders, he wasn’t cheerful; he seemed frazzled. Mr. Humboldt beckoned for him to take a seat and they both sat down.

Jack started by digging out the email and flattening it on the table. From the email here it looks like you might have a job offer. Is that right?

The job’s already yours if you want it, said Mr. Humboldt, getting straight to the point. His eyes darted about as he dabbed at his temple with a napkin. Before we begin, I have a couple precursory questions for you that may seem a bit strange.

Jack nodded, awaiting the usual bullshit interview questions like: Where do you see yourself in five years? Or: What would you do if...?

He wasn’t expecting the stranger to ask him if he’d been followed to the restaurant.

He shook his head. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to check and see if he’d been followed. Why would it?

Are you sure about that?

Jack nodded, but the question put him on edge.

Do you currently have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?

He must have already known Jack wasn’t married. But how? What else did he know? He let the suspicions slide away. He needed a new job in the worst way.

Nope, no girlfriend.

The man waited silently, deliberately, until he added, Or a boyfriend.

This job may require you to be away from home for long periods of time. Will that be a problem for you?

No, I don’t have friends these days and my family all passed away a long time ago.

Good, good, said the man, oblivious. This job is of a secretive nature. Can you be trusted to keep certain aspects of your employment confidential?

Of course. He didn’t exactly know if that was a lie or not, but apparently it was the right answer. This job interview had quickly devolved into something out of the norm.

Did you bring the two forms of ID?

Jack nodded. He fished his driver’s license and social security card from his wallet.

Humboldt looked them over, seemed satisfied enough, and then picked a stack of papers off of the bench beside him. It was about three inches thick. Jack cringed when he discovered he was supposed to read through it all and sign, date, and initial each section. The man pushed the stack across the table just as the waitress arrived. They both ordered coffee. Humboldt asked for a cinnamon stick for his, so Jack felt obligated to do the same. He hated cinnamon but he’d tough through it if it earned him brownie points with his new employer.

Then he realized he knew nothing about the job. He wasn’t about to go through all this paperwork if the pay was lousy or the job was crap.

What’s the pay like?

He flipped to section four at Humboldt’s bidding. He was momentarily stunned. He looked from the figure on the sheet to the man across from him. This can’t be right. I have a psychology degree, but I’ve never actually used it. Even if I was working in the field I’d never make close to this much money. You must have the wrong guy.

I can’t tell you any more than what’s printed in that stack of forms. But I can tell you that you’re exactly the man we’re looking for. Now come on, let’s get you started so you can get to work.

And what’s the work I’ll be doing?

I’m not at liberty to discuss that.

This threw him for a loop. How could anyone take a job without at least having a vague idea of what the job would entail? He could only guess that his knowledge of psychology would be put to use and that, perhaps, there would be a patient or two, but that didn’t make much sense either. Just about every psychology major in the world had a leg up on him since he’d never actually gone into the profession. He didn’t raise these new doubts with Mr. Humboldt. He really did need a new job, and decided he really did deserve such a huge paycheck.

He filled out the first page: his full name, social security number, date of birth. Then he flipped through page after page, signing and dating as he went. Even half-assing it was laborious. Most of it was non-disclosure stuff laced with threats of litigation, and legalese that he didn’t care to decipher.

His coffee was cold by the time he was done. He pushed the stack back across to Humboldt and was a little taken aback when the man snapped a picture of him with a little handheld camera.

By way of explanation he said, It’s for your new employee ID. With that, Humboldt stood up. I’ll be right back.

Jack watched him walk from the diner and get into an SUV sitting outside the restaurant. He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a uniformed figure sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV just before Humboldt closed the door. Cop or personal security? Had he just imagined it? Humboldt returned within a couple of minutes, handing him a new, still-warm badge with his picture on it. The photo was crystal clear. His black hair even showed glints of light reflecting off of it. It was obvious that the picture-taking had startled him; his green eyes were too wide and he wasn’t smiling. His title was Research, and it read Access Limited. His date of birth was printed clearly as March 7, 1981. It gave his height as six foot and his weight as one hundred and sixty pounds. The info must have come from his driver’s license because it was wrong. He’d gained about ten pounds since the last time he had to renew it. He put the ID in his wallet along with the driver’s license and social security card that Humboldt slid back across the table to him.

So when do I get started?

Humboldt was ready with another card; this one looked like a business card. It had an address printed across the front.

Do not lose that card or the ID badge. Don’t let anyone else see them until you arrive tomorrow at 07:00 hours. If you need to tell your boss that you quit, now’s the time. Don’t tell him anything about our meeting. Don’t mention it over the phone or down at the bar. We will know if you talk. I doubt I’ll see you again, so I wish you the best. Good luck.

The man shook his hand and walked out, leaving Jack alone with all of his doubts and questions. But then he remembered the money and his enthusiasm blossomed.

It turned out he didn’t need to call his boss. As usual, at any time of the day or night, his boss called him to tell him about some stupid thing or other. This time it was about an OSHA related matter. He asked Jack to come in early to get the place put straight before OSHA got there. This wouldn’t mean he’d get to go home early either, it just meant the boss was using him as free labor because he was a salary guy and he couldn’t get overtime or even straight pay for additional hours worked. He also told Jack that they might have to work this Saturday, and then chastised him for not meeting quota last week.

Jack smiled the entire time and almost laughed out loud when he finally told him to get fucked.

According to the address on the card he’d have to leave a little after four in the morning to get there by seven. From the directions he got off of the Internet, he knew it was somewhere outside of Green Bay. He didn’t expect to get much sleep tonight. He was too excited.

Chapter 2: The Facility

There were guards on the high walls, which surprised the shit out of Jack. He’d expected to see a research facility of some kind. Maybe it was top secret government research. He’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, trying to solve the riddle of what his job was going to be. He knew his imagination had run wild when he’d started thinking about aliens and spies.

For a pretty good portion of the night he had regrets about taking on the job and quitting his old one. Things generally didn’t go favorably for him, even when he kept his head down and his nose clean, so he was really asking for a kick in the butt by taking this risk.

By the time he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d made his mind up. It was the mystery of it that piqued his interest. So here he was, his heart palpitating, fingertips tingling as he showed his newly minted badge to the girl in the security pillbox. She scrutinized it closely, made a phone call, and then hit a button that opened the gates and lowered the tire spikes.

She smiled sweetly at him as she handed back the ID. Welcome aboard, Mr. Mayberry.

He tried to smile back, but the fear and anticipation were making him numb. He imagined the smile he finally mustered had some kind of demented quality to it.

He slid his rusted Ford Focus up to the front of the building. It was immense. It was wide enough and nondescript enough to be a warehouse. It looked to be around five stories high. He parked in an open spot. There were only a few windows on the ground level clustered around what he assumed to be the front entrance.

He got out of the car on road-weary legs and approached the front door. For some reason he turned around and looked up. What he saw almost made him shit his pants: a guard on the perimeter wall was pointing a rifle right at him. He scurried inside before the guard could get off a shot. He’d never been in such fear for his life. He was shivering, and it wasn’t because of the frigid Wisconsin weather.

The inside of the building was no safer. There was a security desk with three armed men sitting behind it. As he entered he spotted in his peripheral two men, one on either side of the doorway. For a split second he imagined that he’d been tricked into coming here; these men were going to kill him.

ID, said a gruff voice to his right. Jack fumbled through his wallet and gave it over with palsied hands. The guard stared at it for a second, ran a scanner across it, and handed it back. The scanner must check for forgeries or something; maybe there was a microchip inside his ID, because no bar-code was visible.

The guard on the other side chimed in: I need to search you. It wasn’t a suggestion. He told him to empty his pockets. Jack took out his cell phone and wallet and the guy patted him down roughly, balls and buttcrack and all. He hoped to God there wouldn’t be a cavity search. The guard flipped through the wallet, removing everything except his new ID, and handed the now empty billfold back. He didn’t give back the cell phone.

A security guard behind the desk placed the receiver of his telephone back in its cradle and said, A liaison officer will escort you shortly, Mr. Mayberry.

Jack nodded quickly and looked around for a waiting area, but there were no chairs or benches so he put his back to the wall and leaned against it, giving his weakened knees a respite. Being in a room with five armed men was unnerving to say the least. He had to fear-piss like crazy.

There was a lone elevator at the other end of the lobby. It opened with a ping, and a blond man in his early twenties emerged. He was about Jack’s height and build, but a half decade younger. He was a good looking guy and his appearance alone suggested he was good-natured too. He walked up, took Jack’s sweaty hand in his and shook it briskly.

Name’s William McNamara, but you can call me Billy. I’ll escort you from here, Mr. Mayberry. Billy was armed as well, leaving Jack feeling like the kid who forgot to bring his favorite toy to show and tell. He suddenly wanted a gun too.

He followed the blond man into the elevator, where McNamara inserted a key into a steel panel and punched three numbers into a keypad. The doors closed and they descended. Jack’s knees gave out a little; he’d expected they’d go up. They went down a couple of floors and the doors pinged open. Another uniformed guard was there, pointing a rifle into the elevator. He lowered it when Billy strode forward.

This is Jack Mayberry. He goes where I go. The rifle dude nodded as though he was committing it to memory, but still insisted on checking Jack’s ID.

Billy looked over his shoulder when Jack got the all clear and said, Come on, Jack. If I’m right about this, I’m about to blow your fuckin’ mind.

Chapter 3: The Job

Once he was led away from all the entry and exit points, the gun-toting guards seemed to thin out except for the ones who trailed after the lab-coated figures; scientists Jack assumed.

He snuck a glance at Billy and asked sheepishly, So ... are you here to ensure my safety or are you here to shoot me if I step out of line?

Billy paused and took a deep breath. He replied evenly: You are a researcher. Remember that and this gun will never leave its holster.

If Jack was hoping for some kind of reassurance, he didn’t get it. All of a sudden he felt sweat break out across his brow.

Noticing his discomfort, Billy added, I’m here as security to you and from you. That’s all. You’re not a terrorist, are you? Then you have nothing to worry about. We’ll probably become friends somewhere down the road.

Billy led him to a lone office and unlocked the door. He handed him twin office keys as they went inside.

Inside was everything a chemist could ask for. Problem was that Jack wasn’t a chemist. Packs of litmus paper, dyes, saline solution, a centrifuge, and varying styles of microscopes littered the workbenches that ringed the room.

What’s with the chemistry set?

It was the largest office available. The chemist’s been gone for months now. Feel free to redecorate any way you want.

A single desk sat in the middle of the room with an old telephone and a laptop and a heavy leather chair behind it.

This is your workspace. I’ll show you to your quarters later.

Jack raised his eyebrows higher than they’d ever risen before. My quarters? I’m stuck here like a prisoner?

Of course not. You’re free to come and go as you please, like all the researchers, but I promise you that you’ll appreciate your apartment once you see it. I doubt you’ll find much time for sleep anyway once your research begins.

Jack took some time to let it all sink in. Billy handed him a small square of paper with words printed on it. This is your login info to get you started.

Jack took a step forward and put the piece of paper beside the laptop, but Billy said, No, I need that back. Input the passwords and I’ll take care of disposing of it for you.

He sighed and sat behind the desk. The laptop was already on, and only one icon graced the desktop screen, in the shape of a white cloud. Jack double-clicked it and entered the necessary info.

Billy took the paper from him. Will you remember it?

He nodded, but he read the info back in his head to be sure. Billy turned on a Bunsen and set it aflame.

That’s a little dramatic.

No it’s not, he replied, firmly enough for Jack to drop the subject. Alright, log off and let’s go see what’s in store for you, shall we?

He followed his armed escort down corridor after corridor, occasionally passing lab-coated researchers too busy or too deep in thought to look at them. They rounded another corner and at the end of the corridor was a single steel door sandwiched by more guards.

Jack noticed cameras dotting the walls all around, with a single camera pointed their way from above the door.

Billy approached the guards and gave up his ID yet again. Jack then handed over his ID and it received the same thorough scrutiny. The guard on the left spoke into a walkie-talkie and Jack noticed the camera swivel from him to Billy and back. The door hissed and edged open on its own as the guard holstered his walkie, then nodded a curt greeting at each of them as they passed through.

The room was a box not much bigger than a phone booth, with one door behind them and one in front. The door behind hissed closed as Billy handed him a lab coat that had been hanging on the wall. Billy put one on too just as a fan above them whirred to life. Jack looked down and saw a grate in the floor. It was a classic clean room. It made his arm hair stand on end and his breath catch in his throat. What the fuck was beyond this next door? Where was the damn patient? The fan slowed to a stop and a UV light shone on them for several seconds from either side.

Jack shut his eyes tight and said, You could have warned me about the UV.

Sorry, I’ve never been through these doors before either. From here on out I’m as clueless as you are.

Confused, Jack said, You told me you were going to blow my mind. Now you say you don’t know what’s going on. What the fuck do you know?

Rumors are all I know, buddy. No one who knows what goes on behind this door would dare talk about it, but judging by their behavior most of us have sort of gathered that it’s a little freaky. Plus, when I was told I’d be allowed access back here it was like I was getting the key to the city. Whatever it is, it’s serious stuff. Should be a hoot.

The door before them slid open. For a fraction of a second Jack wished he could go back and tell Mr. Humboldt that he wasn’t interested. He wished he could take back the bitter words he’d spewed at his boss over the phone. Walking through this door felt like walking into another life and it scared the hell out of him. Billy took a tentative step through the doorway, with Jack following close behind.

Chapter 4: No Going Back

Anticlimax was the word that came to mind. When they walked into the room it turned out to be a windowless—Of course it is, it’s underground —warehouse lined with shelves for inventory, but most of them were empty. Some of the lower shelves contained crates, but the top ones were unused and caked with dust.

A stocky guy in military uniform with a tight-lipped smile and dark, beady eyes approached them. He was about forty years old and half a head shorter than Jack, but made up for it with an air of dignity and self-assuredness. 

He extended his beefy hand. I’m General Marks but you can call me Dave. Welcome. He took Jack’s hand and gave it two quick firm pumps. He acknowledged Billy with a nod. It’s good to see you, William. I recommended you for this promotion personally.

Billy smiled and thanked him for the opportunity. General Marks beckoned them toward a shelf of inventory and Jack deflated. This was not what he’d expected at all. What could possibly be inside a crate that would warrant the attention of a psychology major? It surely wasn’t a live human subject. Maybe it was stuffed with dossiers on criminal sociopaths. In that case they should have just sent him copies.

The general halted mid-stride and turned to face them. I think you should know why you were chosen before I show you what we have here. We chose each of you because you have no ties to anyone outside this facility. Jack, I understand your parents and sister died in a car accident and you have no current personal ties. William’s circumstances were similar before we brought him in. You are both perfectly suited for this work. To Jack he said, If you breach the trust we insist upon, you’ll be executed without trial. I hope you understand this fully.

He let the malevolence of the threat hang in the air like a swarm of angry hornets. Jack’s mouth flopped open and approximations of half formed words rolled off his tongue. His mind was doing backflips. The general smiled cruelly at his dumbfounded display.

I’m glad you understand the severity of the situation. William has lived under these conditions for two months without incident. Don’t be alarmed by the threat, just take it seriously.

Jack’s speech center returned with renewed vigor. Fuck this, I want out.

The general inhaled deeply and said with mock sadness, It’s too late for that now, son.

Jack looked around for an escape route, but Billy put his hand on his shoulder and said, "From what I hear, this