“And that’s how it happened!” when he finished the story, Bobbie the rookie looks up at his inquisitors. His eyes, still a bit dazed from the break-in, are like two blue calm pools rippling from a tossed stone.
“So you are telling me that you thought Joan was dead?” Director Jenkins’s brown eyes beams right back at Bobbie’s. Underneath the fluorescent light, his bald spot glistened like snowcaps in mid-noon. But the clock of reality reads 12 AM, and Bobbie’s butt cheek had first made acquaintance to the moss green linoleum chair three hours ago. “Yes.” Bobbie yawns.
“But she’s alive.” Jenkins peers forward, almost as if he's trying to stare through Bobbie.
“Yes sir, I saw her got up and talk to those men with M16’s. Like I said, I thought those guys came in and doubled tapped her. “
“And you saw this while you were hiding underneath Anthony’s bed.”
“Sir, I was outnumbered by a dozen men armed with rocket propelled grenade launchers.”
“God damn you are a pussy.” Dr. Denman finally interjects.
“I work the desk in the Agency sir. I have one Berretta and two clips on me when they bust in. I fired a couple of rounds. They just shot everyone up so quickly.”
“And you chickened out and hid underneath the bed of our harvest. “
“If you must put it that way sir.” Bobbies nostrils flared with a frustrated exhale, and his hawk nose crinkled slightly.
“No wonder they have you working in the Intel Division.”
“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight.” Director Jenkins jumps in.
“Can you grow proper facial hair, because I am worried about your hormones,” In pale lights, Dr. Denman’s lips twists into a clowning smirk. His deep-set eyes did not shift away from Bobbie as his head waved around in a pendulum infinity.
“Dr. Denman!” Jenkins quickly adapts to the good cop position.
“That’s okay director Jenkins. Dr. Denman, central might not know anything about what you are doing to the harvest, but everyone working here in the institute knows everything. I understand that you have to bend some rules some time. But the harvests are a good part of the company’s investments. Central might not go so well with your little experiments with their ripping process.” Bobbie’s lip shifts into a smirk and his squint into two flaring gems. “They might suspend me for this, but you, you are put in charge of this whole institute…”
“You son of a…” Denman shoots up from his seat. The veins on his forehead bulges for a second
“I believe it’s getting late, Bobbie you can go get some rest.” Jenkins pressed a red button on the intercom, “ Mason, come escort Mr. Currens out home please.”
“I can get home fine.”
“No I insist.”
Another young man in black suit comes in, Bobbie remembers him from Tunis, Mason Rex, very handy with a shotgun, but terrible at keeping a poker face.
“Where to?”
“The Safehouse I suppose. “ Bobbie yawns again. He gets up slowly, glares at Denman one last time, then march out steadily. Mason followed after him promptly. Outside the door Mason’s partner, Bautista, a menacing hulk-like man wearing aviators, closed the door behind the two.
The room remains quiet for a while.
“So Joan turned on us.” Jenkins breaks the silent.
“Appears so, fine girl too, cute butt.” Denman keep his stare at the door like a hyena staring down a lost prey.
“To who, do you think, Russians, Chinese, the English?” Jenkins muses on with Denman.
“It could be the French, they are always suckers for a good dream.”
“It could be them.”
“You think we can trust Bobbie?”
“Hmmph.” Denman answers with his nose.
Bobbie creeps along the fence on the other side of the old warehouse. He counts quietly from the first posts. One, two, when he hit fifty-six he stops, then quietly taps the aged plank.
A moment later, the fifty-six post detached from the rest of the fence. And a female figure appears on the other side.
“Come in.”
Bobbie looks around, then quickly squeeze in through the fence. Then, just swiftly as it opened, the gap in the fence closes behind after him.
Following after the girl, who is speed walking through the junkyard behind the fence. Bobbies picks up his pace.
“Is he awake?” He asks.
“Not yet. He’s right in the middle of it when we broke him out.” The girl kept walking.
“Damn. It’s crazy that he remained catatonic the entire time.”
“It’s fucked up what they do these people, just because their brainwave is a little bit different.”
“Can’t blame them though. They do fetch a hefty price.”
“Yes they do.” The girl keeps on walking without looking back.
“Especially Anthony, nightmares man, fucking slasher flick of 23rd Century.” Bobbie hops forward a few steps to catch up. “Where are you going baby, now that we have gotten him out. Who are we going to sell him to?”
“Who else needs an incessant dream machine that spits out Zen like hellish nightmares.”
“The Vatican?”
The girl pauses, looks back, her raven ponytail whips around with the fluid motion of her turning head. She raises her left eyebrow.
“Silly boy, the Japanese.” Then she turns back around and resumes her strides.
“Go figure. Is he still talking in his sleep?”
“Yup, he’s been mumbling Moses for the last few hours.”
“I wonder what he sees behind those lips of his when he goes under.”
“Probably a whole different world. I experienced one of his dreams before. I woke up feeling numb.”
“Well, our buyers will love him.”
“How did you get rid of Mason and Bautista.”
“With this.” Mason stops, the girl turns around again. Mason flashes his favorite rondel.
“Man, You are old-fashioned.”
“Thank you, I am also classy.”
“I hope it was clean for them.”
“Like counting one two three.”
“Alright, the whole cold blooded killer act is getting kind of creepy.”
“But it’s what we are Joan. They had made us perfect life takers. And all we can do now.” Mason’s straight blonde hair flew with the night breeze, making a stalk contrast with his unrepentantly still body.
“Oh Bobbie. Come here.” Joan walks forward to embrace Bobbie’s towering body.
“Baby, but it’s okay, you see, we are going to make it, those Japanese will pay us big time.”
“Oh Bobbie you are so sweet.” Joan runs her finger through Bobbie’s golden locks.
POP! A hollow sound of ejecting cartridge bouncing against the concrete floor quickly follows.
And Bobbie’s body goes limp.
“I am sorry Bobbie. There are no Japanese buyers.”
Bobbie crumbles to his knees. His towering body now a fallen Babel, “why?” he utters in his gasping final breaths.
“The dream that I took from Anthony, in that dream I murdered my own father. I need to know Bobbie, I need to know how to father died. I am truly sorry.”
“You… bitch…”
“You are right Bobbie, we are all just what we are, perfectly broken machines meant to break each other. At least I can help you out of your misery. You poor miserable brother of mine.”
Then at that moment, something strange happened. Bobbie smiled, a trickle of crimson slips down his chin. Then he uttered one word before he closed his eye lips to slip into an eternal dream of his own. “I… do… love you… Joan Nguyen.”
Joan stood silent as she watch Bobbie falls. “God Bobbie, I am really sorry. You are truly an awesome man, and you are absolutely beautiful, but my real last name is Hinagpis, and I am a Pinay.”
Then without looking back, she resumes her march. Against the pale glows of the junkyard’s nite-watcher lights, her entire body slowly becomes a silhouette as she marches away. The crimson ribbon holding her pony tails together sways with her body like a waving hourglass.
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