The Colonel eventually arrived at the clinic, and Donald was ready for him.
Colonel Henry Jacobs, a balding man of fifty-five, barged through the double doors of the clinic, flanked on either side by uniformed soldiers. He held himself with the perfect posture of a career military man. And was ready for the Gala - already in full dress uniform, his hat was tucked under his arm, and a permanent glare on his face as he reached the end of the clinic and looked down at Adams’ swollen, bandaged face.
After the beating Donald had doled out, it could have been anyone lying in that bed, and no one would be the wiser. Hell, Booker Dun’s own father might not even be able to tell the difference.
“Explain this,” said the Colonel.
Donald knew that the Colonel was already aware of their little car chase and Agent Summer’s crash. But that’s not the answer the Colonel was looking for. “I take full responsibility, sir,” said Donald, his jaw clenched. “It was an oversight.”
“A goddamn oversight? You’re lucky he’s still alive, Captain!” shouted the Colonel. “This boy stole from me! I need him awake. Now!”
“Sir, with all due respect, he’s in a rough state. It might take a while for the good doctor to -”
“Where is Dr. Heart?” said the Colonel.
“She had to step away, sir. I’m sure she had good reason,” said Donald.
“Get her back here!” Rounding on Agent Summer, the Colonel said, “And you!”
Donald felt cold sweat beading on his forehead as Summer looked directly at him as the Colonel towered over her. The Colonel said, “Don’t look at him! You talk to me! Who is this boy? What’s the FBI got to do with him? Are you helping him?”
Agent Summer said, “Sir, I was just doing what I thought was right. You see, there’s this woman who-”
“If I may interrupt for just one moment,” said Donald, aggressively cutting across her. “What Agent Summer is trying to say is that she mistakenly judged the young man’s situation, and, unwisely, got herself involved.”
The Colonel glared at him, then turned away and folded his hands behind his back. “A fine mess this is. What’s his name?”
Donald began to speak, but the Colonel shot him a look to silence him. Donald gritted his teeth and looked down at Agent Summer as the Colonel said, “Well? Who is this young man?”
Agent Summer hesitated a moment, before saying, “His name is Booker. Booker Du-,”
“Daniels,” said Donald, thinking fast. “Booker Daniels.”
The Colonel nodded to one of the soldiers who had entered the clinic with him and said, “What does this mean to you, Agent Summer?” He took the duffle bag in the soldier's arms and dumped its contents at Summer’s feet. A mess of metal shards, broken motherboards, and wires clattered to the floor. “Well?” said the Colonel, as Summer blinked confusedly at the debris at her feet.
Donald took a slow, shaky breath as his heart leapt in his chest. Eyes scanning the debris, and seeing the remnants of a small radio dish, he knew exactly what it had come from. Robert’s football - the device created to hijack one of the Colonel’s spheres. So, his suspicions were correct - Booker Dunn had set off their trap early.
Agent Summer was shaking her head. “I don’t know -”
“Did the FBI make this? Who helped you? Was it him?” he said, pointing at Adams in the bed across the aisle.
“No,” said Agent Summer quickly. “I was trying to stop him. I didn’t know -”
The Colonel held up a hand to silence her as one of the Colonel’s men whispered something in his ear. Then the Colonel checked his watch and rounded on Donald again. “This infirmary is on lock-down, understand me? No one in or out until I return.” Glancing at Adams and then back at Summer, he said, in a low voice to Donald, “No one could have stolen from me without intimate knowledge of our systems. Someone on this base helped them do it.”
Donald felt his heart jump, but he steadied himself so he could feign surprise. “Sir, that sounds hard to believe. No one at Groom Lake would ever-”
“I bet it was one of the goddam contractors. One of those limp wristed physicists working in Robert’s department,” said the Colonel, more to himself than to Donald. “This conversation doesn’t leave this room. No one is to know about these two. I’m getting to the bottom of this, Captain. Tonight!”
“Yes, sir,” said Donald, calmly, even as he felt his heart racing.
The Colonel cast his eye around the room one last time and nodded to the debris he’d dumped at Summer’s feet and said, “Clean up all this garbage and get it to Robert Dunn’s office. No one else sees this - only Robert. He’ll know who could have made it. And you - you’re in charge of these two. Find out what they know.”
Donald nodded his understanding, and the Colonel took his leave with his two men. As the Colonel disappeared through the double doors at the end of the room, Donald couldn’t help grinning. He turned on his heel to face Summer, giving her a slow series of claps. “Bravo, my girl. Bravo. You heard the Colonel. You’re with me now, and it’s up to me to sort out this whole mess. That means helping you get home. If you keep up your end of the deal, that is. So, let’s start with this CIA friend of yours. Joanna Jones.”
Donald had her start from the top again. Who is Joanna? What does she look like? Why was the FBI tailing her? When did she, Summer, find out that Joanna was trying to gain access to Groom Lake.
Summer’s testimony was shaky at best. While she knew Joanna’s history, she had no clear picture of a motive behind Joanna’s actions. She knew Joanna was a thief and that Joanna wanted a way into Groom Lake. Put them together and what do you get?
But Summer was confused when Donald asked her questions about the sphere. When Donald pressed her about it, she explained that Joanna was most likely looking for something small. Something small enough for a bird to carry off in its beak or claws.
“A bird?” said Donald.
“It sounds crazy, but she’s done this before,” said Summer, rubbing her forearms.
“You're telling me, this woman is planning on handing off whatever it is she’s looking for to a bird? And have the bird fly it out of here for her?”
Summer coughed and nodded slowly.
Donald burst out laughing, slapping his knee and clapping his hands. When his laughter subsided, he sighed and said, “You know, that’s kind of brilliant. But it doesn’t help us figure out what she's after, does it?” He watched Summer rolling her neck and trying to rub one of her shoulders, and an uncomfortable look on her face.
Then he stood and beckoned for a nurse to come over and tend to Agent Summer. Seeing a PC delivering some supplies on the other end of the room, called him over as well. “You there, drop what you're doing and sit here beside my friend, Agent Summer. She is our guest. No one talks to her, no one moves her, no one sees her, without my say so. Got it?”
The PC nodded, and said, “Yes, sir.”
Summer was now laying on her bed, the nurse giving her an IV. Looking from the PC to Donald, she said, “You guys brother’s or something?”
Donald chuckled, a bit his lower lip. “Brothers? No, ma’am. This here is a product of a decades long experiment on the human condition. Tell her, boy.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The PC said, “Sir?”
“Who are you?” said Donald.
“I’m Charles, sir,” said the PC.
“What’s your designation, Charles?” said Donald.
“PCP 03 T, sir,” said the PC.
Pointing to a red patch on the PCs uniform with the same designation number, Donald said to Summer, “PCP stands for Progressive Cloning Project. Zero three means he’s third from his batch. T stands for Tango generation. We’ve got Romeos, Sierras, Tangos, and a few other generations mixed in around this place, ain't that right, PC?”
The PC nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“PC’s … Photocopies, as I like to call them. You see, you start with the original source, then you copy it. Then you copy it again, and again, and again, each time the copies getting a little less defined, a little less real. Pretty soon you end up with something that’s not even really human. Not if you ask me, anyway. You’ll see this face a lot around here if you stick around.”
Summer looked at the nurse, now taking her blood pressure, and said, “Is he serious?”
When the nurse silently continued her work, Donald said, “She won’t talk to you. No one will. And yes, I’m serious.”
Summer looked unconvinced as she looked at the PC standing beside her bed. Donald grinned and said, “Don’t believe me? You don’t know much about Groom Lake at all then, Special Agent Summer. We’re not just spy planes and fighter jets out here. Groom Lake has a long and bloody history of unnatural experimentation. Human mutilation. Ungodly obsessions with perfection. It all starts with innocent questions and curiosities; How will radiation change a man? What happens when you don’t let him sleep for a month? How much of the brain do you really need? Before you know it, you’re taking all the unwanted special needs boys and girls from around the country, cutting them up, exposing them to chemicals, forcing them to do unnatural things. It’s dirty work, but someone’s got to do it, don’t they?”
Summer’s face was stoney, and she slowly shook her head.
Donald shrugged and said, “Well. That’s how they did it in the 50’s and 60’s. It wasn’t until the 80s that they started growing people from scratch, ain't that right PC?” The PC said nothing. “Photocopies. A little less human each time, and they call it progress to perfection. I call it blasphemy. Heresy. But I will say, they do come in handy. You see, our PCs might only be blurry copies of us real people, but they’re obedient to a fault. They’ll do what I say, when I say it, without question.” Pulling out a small knife from his belt, Donald handed it to the PC and said, “Show our friend what I mean.”
As the PC took the knife, he heard a sharp intake of breath from the nurse sitting beside Summer. She had clapped a hand over her mouth, but she didn’t say anything. Summer looked from the Nurse to the PC and said, “You can’t be serious.”
Donald nodded to the PC and said, “Go on. Why don’t you cut your wrist for us right now. Nice and deep.”
“Captain!” said the nurse quickly, but he held up his hand to silence her. The PC unfolded the knife, rolled up one sleeve, and pressed the point of the knife against his skin. A bead of blood pooled around the knife tip, then he swiped hard across his wrist and blood spewed from the cut, quickly drenching his entire hand.
The nurse screamed and Summer yelled, “Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you!” as she nearly fell out of the bed moving away from the PC.
Donald laughed, watching the PC’s cut hand start to shake uncontrollably, and tears start rolling down his face. The nurse rushed forward with a rag, but Donald held her back. “Give it a moment,” he said. The PC slowly sank into a chair, holding his cut wrist and turning more pale by the second. Summer looked horrified, watching huge droplets of blood raining down on the side of her bed. Donald couldn’t help chuckling when she tore her eyes away from the blood to look at him, eyes pleading with him. Donald said, “He’ll let himself bleed out and die if I ask him too, won’t you PC?”
The PC was sinking low in his chair, almost to the point of falling to the floor. But even as his eyes fluttered, he managed to say, in a shuddering, breathless voice, “Y-yes, s-sir.”
Letting go of the nurse, he said, “Go on now. Help him up.” The nurse ran forward and caught the PC by the shoulders, pressing a rag against his wrist. Turning to the other nurses standing around the infirmary, watching in silence, Donald shouted, “Well don’t just stand there! Help her!”
As they rushed around and tended to the PC, Donald sat down beside Summer in the seat the nurse just vacated. He cricked his neck and said in a low voice, “I’m not a bad man, Special Agent Summer. The ones who want us to make the photocopies are the bad ones. It’s not natural. They don’t belong.”
Summer didn’t say anything, choosing to look straight ahead. He watched her chest moving up and down as she breathed deeply for a few moments. When he stood, she seemed to flinch slightly. He nodded to himself, and said, “This is my base. I’m in control here. Don’t cross me, Special Agent Summer. I’m going to talk with our friend Booker Dunn, then I’ll be back to get you. I’ll make sure that you and the boy are well taken care of.” He bit down on a fresh toothpick and leisurely strolled his way out of the infirmary to find Dr. Heart and the kid.
To his surprise, he was only a few doors down the hall when he heard a slight commotion. Rounding a corner, he saw two men in suits standing by an open door. Secret Service men. Approaching them, he said, “Gentlemen. To what do we own the pleasure?”
One of them nodded his head toward the patient room and said, “Just a follow up appointment. The president busted open his stitches using the Colonel’s golf simulator.”
“Did he now,” said Donald, peering into the room. Sure enough, the U.S. President was standing within, his shirt off and Dr. Heart tending to his stitches. She was smiling and simpering over him, another Secret Service agent standing close by with his eyes on the needle in her hand. The president was laughing about something and chatting away. Donald felt his jaw clenching at the sight of Evilyn without the kid. But he took a deep breath and stepped back and smiled at the agents.
“Looks like they’re wrapping up,” he said. “Mind if I wait with you. I need to see the doctor on personal business.”
The two snickered and exchanged a look. One said, “I wouldn’t mind having some personal business with the doctor.”
“I don’t know if I follow you, sir,” said Donald.
“Oh come on,” he said in a low voice, glancing over his shoulder at Evilyn. “You don’t have a thing for redheads? I’m just saying I’d play doctor with her anytime, if you know what I mean.”
The two silently laughed again, and Donald forced a small chuckle saying, “Oh I see. She’s single, you know. But I warn you, she’s got kids.”
“Damn! Not every day you see a mom in that good shape! I love kids. How many?” said the man.
“About 200 or so,” said Donald.
The two men stopped their childish snickering, looking confused. Before anything more could be said, the president was coming out of the room, straightening his cuffs and saying, “Thank you again, Dr. Heart. It’s been a wonderful experience having you take care of me this week.”
“It’s my pleasure. And remember, no more golf for the next three weeks! I’ll follow up with your primary and make sure he gets all the information,” she said, flashing her biggest smile. It was a great performance, Donald thought.
The president caught sight of him, and exclaimed, “Captain Tully!” He wrung Donald’s hand with a politician's firm grip. “You’re keeping this beautiful woman tucked away here at Groom Lake. One of these days I’ll steal her away from you. Mark my words.”
“Dr. Heart is exceptional,” said Donald. “I’m sure she will always be at your service, should the need arise.”
The president waved away his response and said, “Don’t let her slip through your fingers! The brightest stars are the hardest to keep a hold of.”
Donald grinned. “Enjoy that new liver, Mr. President. I’m sure the Colonel will break out his best whiskey for you tonight.”
The president laughed, throwing his head back, saying, “Oh, I’m sure I will! I know livers and kidneys and such don’t grow on trees around here.”
Evilyn said, “It’s just a little more complicated than that. And, please sir, no drinking!”
After more banter back and forth, Donald’s face grew sore as he kept up his forced smile. Eventually, the president and his secret service men left. Once they exited the building and the doors slammed shut behind them, Donald rounded on Evilyn.
She was already moving, saying, “I know, I know! But he’s the president for Christ’s sake!”
He followed her on a brisk walk as they headed for the stairs. “Where is the kid?”
“I locked him in my office,” she said, digging her keys out of her pocket.
“Good. It’s time we wake him up,” he said, hustling up the stairs behind her.
“He’s awake,” she said. “But he doesn’t know much. He had no idea what happened to the sphere. But we have a bigger problem. That woman from the CIA is the one who activated Robert’s football. She’s the one that caused the crash. What does that mean? Why would she be here if that were the case?”
Donald said, “Hold on a moment. The kid’s awake?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s in your office? Alone?”
“I locked him in.”
“You-” he pressed a clenched fist against his lips, stopping himself. Then sprinted up the flight of stairs. When he burst onto the fourth floor, he saw Dr. Heart’s office door wide open at the end of the hall. Breathing hard, he put his hands on his hips and paced back and forth until Evilyn arrived behind him.
“What is it?” she said.
“You locked him in?” he shouted, gesturing to the open door.
“I told him I’d be right back! I locked the door behind me!” she shouted.
“The deadbolt is INSIDE THE ROOM!” he shouted. Swearing at the top of his lungs, he marched over to look inside the room and confirm the kid was gone. When that was done, he slammed the door as hard as possible and swore again.
“This is not my fault,” said Evilyn, face reddening and chest heaving. Hand on her forehead and looking all around as if the kid would just appear out of the walls, she said, “I don’t do this, Donald. I’m a doctor for Christ's sake! I don’t take hostages!”
Donald closed his eyes, breathing hard and trying to calm himself. He pounded his own forehead with his fist, trying to think. Evilyn’s rambling was making things difficult. She said, “He can’t get far. We just have to get on the radio, and put out a notice-”
“We can’t put out a notice around the base because Booker Dunn is supposed to be lying in a hospital bed four floors below us!” said Donald. “The Colonel has already come and gone!”
“Then we don’t say who it is!” she said.
“No. There is no getting around this one without alerting the Colonel. Who the hell else could be loose on the base? No one gets into Groom Lake. No one! You want us to say some kid just wandered his way into the base from the desert?”
“Then what? What do we do?” she said.
“We find him. What else can we do?” said Donald.