Gerald Dean Rice's Blog, page 88

Dead Right, ep XII

Wenton's face was blank. Dell had no clue how to interpret what was going on in his mind.

"You done?" he said.

"Yeah," Dell said, not sure of his answer.

Wenton punched him. Dell stumbled backward over his own feet and planted on his butt. When he looked up at his brother, rage seething into him he saw Wenton holding out his hand.

"She was my wife, Dell. You should have told me what you were up to."

Dell took his hand and while he was still in a crouch brought a knee up into his brother's groin.

"You sunnuvabitch!" Wenton's eyes went wide as he crumpled to the ground. "I did this for you. You don't think I see the look in your eyes every time I look at you?" He tried to kick him in the ribs, but Wenton latched onto his ankle and yanked him off his feet. In seconds his younger brother was over him.

"All that's left of my wife is inside of that thing." He hammered Dell in the stomach with a meaty hook. "You don't understand what I went through because you don't have an ounce of love in you. She was the love of my life, you jerk."

Dell wasn't afraid of him, but he knew what his brother could do if he wanted. He had to get out from under him quick. His arms were already jittery and he couldn't get a full breath. Dell planted his feet on either side of Wenton and thrust his hips into him, twisting his body at the same time. Wenton fell over to the side, but by the time Dell was on his knees he had a shoulder in his back as Wenton barreled into him.

"You're so full of shit!" Dell said as he dragged himself off the ground again. Wenton must have overshot and was about five feet away, slowly standing up himself. "You don't have the luxury of having a breakdown when you have a kid. Why am I the one speaking rationally here? I've always been the older brother, the responsible one, but I was responsible enough to not get hitched. To not have a kid. You signed that contract. Grow the hell up."

"You don't know anything. You're stupid. You've always skated through life doing the bare minimum. You never took any risks. You don't think my heart breaks every day from what I did to Toddy? Every day I'm trying to make it up to him. I'm trying to fix myself! Why don't you understand when she died that broke me?"

Dell had gained a little of his breath back, but if his brother was coming he was going to get steamrolled. A sliver of moon was high in the sky behind Wenton and he could see part of his face, but couldn't make out if he was readying to charge again. But then his head dropped and his shoulders shuddered. A moment later he could hear Wenton sobbing quietly.

Dammit. Dell never knew what to do when people cried. Maybe because he couldn't relate. He couldn't remember crying since… since… was it really since their parents had died? He really didn't understand that particular emotion, but didn't begrudge people who did it. Dell had broken up with a girl who tried to tell him that crying was 'purifying'. Bullshit.

A few random vemans had started to gather. Probably from all the noise they'd made. He probably should walk over and give him a hug, that he should be the bigger person, but it was like kryptonite to him. The thought of touching his brother right now seemed so… wrong. As if he had something infectious. He bridged the distance between them and stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with his crying brother.

Dead Right, ep XI

The leap in technology in the nineties that had led to the cheap development of vemans had also led to the bankruptcy in almost every company that cranked the things out. It was so cheap to produce them and relatively easy that a motivated individual with a couple thousand dollars in his pocket could make his own.

Dell looked over at his brother, looking moon-faced at nothing in particular. What was wrong with him? He had to make sure he had his head on straight. He probably hadn't even thought about what he would do when they got home.

Jesus, Toddy.

"Pull over." Dell knocked on the window dividing them from the driver up front.

"You sure? This isn't the safest place to stop."

"You guys got guns, right?" Dell was suddenly furious at the position he realized he'd been put in. "Pull over now."

The driver didn't say anything, but a moment later they were pulled over. Dell opened the door, climbed out and crouched back into the limo.

"You," he said to his brother, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Out. Now." Wenton still had that blank look on his face, but he didn't speak. He climbed over the laps of the guard Nibor had saddled them with and that thing and Dell shut the door before anyone tried to follow. He grabbed his brother's arm and led him away about twenty feet where he figured they were safely out of earshot. The driver popped his head out of the limo and Dell waved him off.

"What the fuck, Wenton?"

"What do you mean?" Wenton asked.

"We just hustled that thing in there for what reason exactly?"

"I told you. She—it—knows what happened that day. Someone's responsible. And we're going to find out who."

"We? Oh, hell. It doesn't know anything. I saw it last week and all it could do was make googly eyes at me."

"So you knew about her?" Wenton narrowed his eyes at him. Dell wondered if he'd said too much, but couldn't stop himself now.

"You might as well hear it all now. Yes, I knew about it. I arranged everything. I can pull a lot of strings from the mayor's office."

"But she spoke. She has Cara's memories."

"I know. This was supposed to jumpstart you out of this funk—not for you to turn into a complete dickhead."

"What did you let them do to my wife's body?" Dell noticed his brother clenching his fists. He'd been in his fare share of fights in his lifetime, but none of them as brutal-looking as Wenton was right now. But he'd never been afraid of him and wasn't about to start now.

"What did I do? Do you fucking know what you're fucking saying to me right now? Cara donated her body to science, Wenton. Remember that? Oh, that's right, you checked out on planet Earth after she died. Nobody could ask you anything. They—whoever—came and took her body and you were none the wiser. Do you realize her mother was still taking care of your son two weeks before she killed herself? If it hadn't been for Toddy, I wouldn't have held it against you, but you had a son who needed to be taken care of. You checked out on him."

Dead Right, ep X

Two men brought it out in shackles, its hands covered by these black plastic things up to the wrist with the number thirty-eight handwritten on them. There was a similar black plastic thing on its head. It had on a blue jumper with thirty-eight on the breast pocket. Nibor walked slowly behind them, his hands clasped behind his back. Dell wondered where the two men had come from.

"Gentlemen, the reason there are no forms for you to sign is simple: this did not happen. There will be no record of us releasing the 38-X4 into your custody nor of you returning it here, which you will do at—" he checked his watch and returned the wrist behind his back— "eleven fifty-one post-meridian Wednesday night. Are we understood?"

The guy suddenly had grown a new pair considering Dell had them in his pocket a moment ago.

"Yeah, that's fine." He looked at his brother. "Right?"

"Yeah. Good."

"A few provisos," Nibor continued. "I'm sure you've learned a good deal about vemans from what you've seen on the news, but ours are special. Do not feed the 38-X4 food, engage it in prolonged conversation, or introduce it to the extinguished's former relatives. The woman is dead and she shall remain that way. Your purvue pertains only to cognitive function and general memory."

"Mr. Nibor, you're dealing with an expert here," Dell thumbed over his shoulder at his brother. He didn't like the sudden bossy attitude. "He knows what he's doing."

"Here, Wednesday night. Understood?"

Now he was downright pressing it.

"Your cooperation has been greatly appreciated. You'll have the full consideration of the mayor's office when time comes to divvy up those funds." Dell cast him another smile and they shook hands. He put his hand on 38DD's back or whatever he'd called her and began heading to the door. It felt good to take Nibor down a peg.

"Oh, one last thing," the man said. "To ensure the safe return of our property, we are assigning an asset retention specialist to accompany you."

"No, no way," Wenton said.

"I'm afraid it's the only way." Dell couldn't really argue against it. It was reasonable and he hated Nibor for that.

"That will be fine." They shook hands one final time and filed out of the building.

A man Dell didn't recognize was waiting next to the limo with the door open. They eased the thing into the car first then Dell followed his brother inside. He wondered briefly why his brother still crawled over the seat like that.

They pulled away, the limo a lot more crowded than Dell intended. In minutes the oasis of the facility was left behind and they were in the dark of the hood again. Except this wasn't just the poor section of the city, this was where the bulk of discarded vemans had been left. Dell looked from the one in the limo with them to the scattering of them they passed as they drove. Best estimates had about two hundred thousand in the city alone, with an additional fifty thousand in the metropolitan area, by far the largest population of them anywhere in the country by far. The problem had grown too large to ignore and a Civil Rights movement had sprung up. The mayor's office was actively developing an opinion and that's where Dell's job had come from.

Dead Right, ep IX

"The police investigation is closed. Nobody's going to open it again on the basis of whatever it has to say."

"I don't care. I need to know." Wenton beat his chest with his palm. "After what you just pulled, bringing me here, you owe me."

That stung in a way Dell hadn't intended. He wanted to argue more. To try to get reason into his brother, but he was at a loss.

"Okay. But two days. No more. Got it?"

Wenton nodded.

They stood in silence for what felt like at least ten minutes. Dell could hear Nibor in there occasionally, but couldn't make out what the man was saying. Finally he came out.

He looked like he must have taken a moment to calm himself, like he'd been smoothing down the front of that expensive suit jacket until he'd recomposed himself. Nibor was tall, easily six-eight, and strode across the room to them, looking like a well-dressed train the way he pumped his arms with each step.

"My superiors have acquiesced," he began slowly, "to your request of lending you 38-X4. You may take it now or in the morning, whichever is your preference."

"It's kinda late," Dell said. He felt his brother loom closer and sensed his objection coming. "We need to make a few arrangements in preparation."

"We'll take her now."

Dammit!

Dell forced a smile. "Whatever works best."

"Very good. You will have a period of twenty-four hours from the time the 38-X4 is released into your custody."

"I want three days."

What the hell?

This time Dell did look at his brother, stabbing him as best he could with daggers in his eyes. Wenton looked sheepish a second, but didn't back down. He looked back at Nibor.

"Three days."

Nibor winced as if he'd been punched, but he held his tongue a moment before speaking. What was this costing him?

"Very good." Nibor forced his own smile and extending that well-manicured paw of his again. Dell shook it and found none of the soppy fish-hand the man had given before. It was dry and firm.

"So, uhh, what do we do?"

"Wait in the lobby. There is some information I need to give you and then the 38-X4 is yours for the next seventy-two hours." He escorted Dell and his brother to the door, with the executive protection officer firmly in tow. The giant door shut behind them and they rejoined the other guard at the desk.

Dell was incensed. Here he was, hanging his neck out for Wenton and his brother does almost everything possible to screw him over. If he could have trusted the aside would have been for Wenton's ears only he would have laid into him right now. But he could wait until they got back in the limo.

It didn't take long.

Dead Right, ep VIII

"Okay, I'm sure that will be excellent," Nibor said. "But could I perhaps have his initial impressions?"

"Well, that's not really how these things are done," Dell said, still holding Nibor's hand. "Maybe he can give you a first-blush sometime this morning. I can give him your card. But he'd have a report to you by Wednesday or so." He let go of Nibor's hand and turned to his brother. "You ready to go?"

"I want her," Wenton mumbled. He still had a look of dull shock on his face.

"What?"

"I want her." Wenton looked at him. Dell knew that look. He remembered the tantrums when they were kids and Dell got something and he didn't. Wenton had put up a fuss then and looked like he was about to now. If Dell didn't think of something right now to placate both men this would turn south in a very bad way.

"Excuse me, what did he say?" Nibor asked.

"He said," Dell slowly turned back, "he wants to take it with us. To examine it in a more natural environment."

"That's absolutely out of the question."

"Look, the mayor has a few million federal dollars of his own to ferret through this undead business. Maybe your grant falls through, maybe it doesn't. It might be nice to have a safety net, don't you think?"

Nibor licked his lips. For the first time tonight, his cool exterior melted away. He looked nervous.

"I will need to make a few phone calls. But this is not what we were—"

"Make your phone calls, Mr. Nibor. We'll wait."

Nibor retreated into an ante-room. Dell turned to his brother.

"What the hell are you making me do?"

"I told you. I want her."

"You mean like WANT want? What are we talking?"

Wenton blinked. "No. I know she isn't my wife, but… she has her memories."

"And?" Dell shook his head, trying to understand or hoping common sense would sink into Wenton's head.

"Look, it's like I always said. Something else happened. Cara wasn't even supposed to be on that side of the city. She told me—"

"Who told you?"

"The she—it." Wenton pointed to the tank.

"So you were actually able to talk to it?"

"Yes, and—"

"Look, I set this all up for you to get peace of mind. So you could say goodbye." Dell got really close to his brother. "There was a lot of string-pulling to get you in here. What you're asking for is using good will I don't have. When Nibor comes back I'll tell him we changed our minds about taking that thing."

"No. I meant what I said. I want her."

"Are you insane?" Dell's voice was a high whisper. "Where are going to store that thing? Are you going to put it in your basement? With your son?"

"No… I—"

"You didn't think about it. I know. But call this off now and let's get home. I can take care of the report."

Wenton's eyes had been roaming around the room. They locked onto Dell. "No. I meant what I said. Something else happened to Cara. This thing can prove it. Help me piece it together."

Dead Right, ep VII

That Nibor guy was a weirdo. Dell had to wash his hands for a half hour to get the creep off after he'd met him two days ago and he'd had to resist the urge to recoil from it tonight. Wenton was pissed at him, but in the end his little brother would come around. He hoped. But Dell had to try something.

It was all because of the kid. Sure as shit Dell loved him and would take care of him if he absolutely had to, but there was no way little Toddy wasn't going to get screwed up somehow, someway. Dell didn't know anything about taking care of kids. He'd tried babysitting his nephew once and damn near killed him. By the time Wenton and Cara got back home, Dell was sobbing worse than the baby. It would have been one thing if they had never had any kids and Cara had died. He could get a nurse or something for his brother, but foster care was no way to raise a child.

No. He had to get his little brother back on track and this was the best—the only—way he saw how. He watched Nibor punch in another code after giving Wenton the same explanation he'd gotten the other day, and then the door to Tank 3 lifted.

Wenton's eyes slid over to him before going inside. He looked like he'd already seen a ghost.

Not yet, little brother, he wanted to say, but no words felt appropriate just then. Wenton went inside and Nibor closed and locked the door behind him.

"Why the lock?"

"Just a safety precaution." Nibor waved his hand through the air like he was conducting at the DSO.

You didn't lock the door when I went inside, he thought, but didn't say anything. He walked back to the entrance to this big room.

This had to work.

Even if Wenton hated him for the rest of his life.

Dell could admit, even if only to himself, this was more for him than his brother. It was selfish, but he would live with that.

He turned to the officer behind him. Duvall, his name was.

"So how was your weekend?"

The wall of a man declined his head to him, his face as unreadable as a sheet of steel, especially behind those sunglasses.

"Went to Belle Isle."

"Oh, that's cool. What was going on there?"

Another pause before answering. Dell was sure that was his subtle way of saying he didn't care for conversation. "Family reunion."

Dell gave several head pumps, nodding slow and long and folding his arms.

They stood in silence for a while, Nibor staying over by the door. There was a coffee pot over by a wall and Dell made himself a cup. Lots of cream,lots of sugar.

It was really terrible coffee and he had to sip small amounts of it for it to be tolerable. He resumed his spot a foot away from the executive protection officer.

Dell was about three-fourths of the way done with the coffee when Wenton emerged.

Dell met Nibor at the door before the man could begin questioning his brother.

"You can expect a copy of the mayor's report probably in a few days," he said, taking the man's hand and giving it a shake. Nibor tried to look over his shoulder at Wenton and Dell side-stepped to block his view.

Dead Right, ep. VI

Nibor went to the side of the desk and walked over to a door that occupied an entire wall. It had to be ten feet by fifteen. He punched in a code and slid his hand into a port. The door beeped and a green light came on just above his head. Things inside clicked and whirred and then the door began to slowly swing open.

Nibor turned and spoke to the group. "We currently have three tanks in operation, with a fourth to come online sometime next month." He looked at Dell specifically. "I believe you wanted Tank three, correct?"

Dell swallowed. "Yeah." What was going on with him? They followed Nibor inside.

"Y'know, we appreciate you coming down. With the coming legislation, we could be potentially put out of business before we even begin. A significant amount of money has been invested already and we'll need to solicit more funds to go on to the next phase of the project."

"Well, the mayor's office is just trying to get ahead of this whole undead thing," Dell said. "We want to wind up on the right side of the fence. I appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to… show us your research."

"Research?" Alarm bells started going off in Wenton's head. He hadn't missed the 'undead' thing. Wenton didn't do well around the dead. His grandparents, his uncle—he hadn't been able to physically go to any of their funerals. He was always grateful that his parents had been cremated. But that urn with both their ashes in it… Wenton was glad Dell had taken it. The only funeral he'd been able to attend—and even then just barely—was…

He turned to Dell.

"Who's in Tank three?"

Dell shifted. There was definitely something he hadn't told him.

"It's uhh… y'know, I was just thinking of you. Y'know, you've just been so… y'know how you've been. Not like you, but… C'mon, it's almost been two years!"

Wenton took a step back from his brother.

"Is that my wife in there? Is that Cara?"

Dell dropped his head. He didn't say anything, but Wenton had his answer.

"How could y—" he stopped short on his sentence. Dell felt really small.

"Gentlemen?" He took his eyes away from Dell, looking over to the man he'd forgotten was in the room. "Is there an issue?"

"No." Dell was back on the clock, his face had none of the guilt from a second ago. "Just having a little chat with my consultant." He turned to Wenton. "You can examine her for yourself. Get those answers you've been wanting."

Wenton stared at his brother several minutes. All the answers he'd been wanting were potentially on the other side of that door. He finally looked over at Nibor.

"Shall we?"

He nodded.

Dead Right, ep V

Now here he was, still unsure what was going on and feeling tipsier by the moment. The driver/officer was even bigger than Hanson had been, probably as wide as he and Dell if they'd stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking their view of the entrance as they walked behind him.

"Good evening, sirs," a lispy man said, greeting them at the door with two guards of his own. A breeze had kicked up, making their clothes lick in the wind. He handed a clipboard to the officer who turned to Dell, who in turn, nodded. He hunched over it with a pen and gave it back. The man took the sheet off the clipboard and handed it to Wenton.

"It's just a non-disclosure thing," Dell hollered over the wind. "No big deal. Trust me, I know a pitbull of a lawyer. If we need to break that, he can make it happen."

Wenton couldn't tell if his brother was telling the truth, but signed. The man took it back, smiled at him with his other hand clapped over the top of his hat to keep from losing it.

"Let's get inside, gentlemen."

The outside of the building had been very non-descript. The only thing that really stood out was the well kept and fenced-in grounds so out of place with the surrounding homes.

Wenton would have guessed Dell was taking him to meet girls, but this was something more. He would have politely turned the one his brother had picked out for him down had that been the case. Wenton still saw his wife's face on just about every other woman he saw. No, the fact his brother had brought him anywhere else showed true growth. It also meant he might not know him as well as he thought. Wenton was proud and disappointed at the same time.

He nudged his arm as they followed the lispy man in the Brookes Brothers suit. "Where are we?"

"In a minute." Dell's voice was distant. He was uncomfortable with something and that made no sense at all. He did know where they were, didn't he?

They came to a security desk and the man spoke in a low voice to the guard sitting behind it. Somehow, the security man was fixing him and Dell in the same stare. It was impressive and intimidating until he blinked and nodded.

The man who'd led them in stood upright and turned around.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, I've forgotten my manners." He stuck his hand out between Dell and Wenton. "Larry Nibor."

"Oh, Dr. Nibor," Dell stepped in front of the offered hand and took it, gave a few good pumps. "Windel White. This is my brother Wenton."

"Pleased to meet you." Wenton took his hand. It felt squishy, like if he squeezed it Nibor's eyes might bulge out of his head and schloop back in when he let go. He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants.

"I appreciate you giving me the title, but I'm not a doctor." Wenton noticed that the man hadn't stopped smiling since they'd arrived at the front door. "I'm the director, though." He looked at the security guard. "Lenny, we're going to go in now."

"All right, sir."

Dead Right, ep IV

"Wow. Officer Hanson," Dell began a little too loudly. "You've got, what is that, four children?"

"Five, sir."

"Five. Your youngest there looks about the same age as my nephew. You play catch with him?"

"I coach his little league team." Dell had nodded, pulling a face like he was more impressed than he was. But Wenton knew the truth; other than Todd, his brother despised children.

"I need you to do us a favor, Officer Hanson."

"How may I assist?"

"I need you to babysit my nephew. Just for an hour."

Hanson shifted for the first time since he'd come in.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sir?"

"I need you to babysit my nephew while I take my brother someplace important. Someplace little boys don't go. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back, the sooner you can get home and practice that slider with your kid."

"Well, they don't pitch. It's actually t-ball."

"Okay, but if we get done quickly, then you get home quickly. Cool?"

"I suppose."

Wenton grabbed his brother by the arm. "The hell you think you're doing? I don't know him. Look, I'm sorry Mr.—Officer Henson—"

"Hanson, sir."

"—Hanson, but I don't know you. And I'm sure that if you were in my position you wouldn't be eager to let some stranger spend time alone with any one of your children."

"Well, if I may sir," Hanson cut in before Wenton could continue. "I am already a police officer which requires background checks. But any officer who is assigned to a detail with a person associated with the mayor's office is subject to an extensive history search on par with agents in the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Wenton hadn't known that. It was impressive.

"Good enough for the mayor," Dell chimed in, "good enough for us."

"It's that important to you?" Wenton said to his brother who nodded. He had no doubt Dell loved Todd and the fact he would vouch for this police officer carried a great deal of weight. He turned back to Hanson. "Take off those sunglasses." Hanson put them in his jacket pocket. He had clear eyes. Good. Hopefully, he wasn't a drinker. "Take off that jacket too. He removed it and Wenton saw the gun in the holster.

"Uh-uh."

"Sir, I'm a police officer. I have to carry my weapon when I'm on duty."

"Then no dice."

"Hold it-hold it-hold it." Dell put his hands up again. "How about you take the gun off and put it up on top of the cabinet?" Wenton looked at the cop. He nodded.

They'd gone into the bedroom so Wenton could tuck his son in, but found him under the covers, snoring soundly and smelling like perfume.

"I was going to give it to a lady friend," Dell said when he looked at him.

Dead Right, ep III

Wenton had dried his hands on his pants and looked at his brother. "So what exactly do you want?" He let his frustration at being underminded bleed into his tone.

"Uh, nothing much. I just want you to come with me. Take an hour of your time, max."

"And where is it we're going?"

"Ask me again when we get in the limo."

"Uncle Dell, can I come too?"

"No, Toddy," Wenton had answered for his brother. "You can't come because it's not an appropriate place for little boys, is it, Uncle Dell?"

"No," Dell said, but his face brightened when he reached into his suit jacket and produced a rectangular box, stooped and held it out for Todd to take.

"What is it, Uncle Dell?"

"For the life of me, I don't know!" Dell threw his hands up. "Why don't you take it to your room and open it?" Todd took it and sauntered to his room.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Wenton had said.

"What?"

"Give him stuff every time he sees you. He's gonna start expecting that."

"Well, I'm the onliest uncle he has. I gotta make up for all the gifts he's never gonna get from the family we don't have."

"Yeah, but I'm trying to do something here. I'm going for a value system here. You undermind that when you do that."

"All right, all right." Dell held his hands up. "Sorry. Next time I'll just give him a kick in the nuts."

"You know I can't go with you," Wenton had said. "It's a Sunday night and I don't even know any sitters."

"Got that covered. I've got a sitter."

"Who?"

"Hanson."

"Hanson who?"

"I get an executive protection officer. Two of them. Hanson can watch him while we're away."

"No way. I'm not letting some guy watch my kid."

"He's not just some guy."

Dell stormed to the front of the house, opened the door and ushered a big, baldheaded white guy inside and led him over to the kitchen.

"Officer Hanson, this is my brother, Wenton."

"Evening, sir."

"Hey."

"See the wedding ring? Hanson's married. How long you been married, Officer Hanson?"

"Twelve years."

"Got pictures of your kids?"

"Yes sir." Hanson proceeded to dig out his wallet and flipped it open, producing a series of pictures.