Protocol 1337 Read online

  “This is bullshit! You're just messing with my head and it's not going to work. You can't make me do anything.....” I exclaim.

  “Don’t make me make you...” Reese hands me a folder containing full page photos. I grab the first one, and I see my mother crying. I can feel the hurt in her eyes, the disbelief, and I wonder to myself if she even stills loves me. After all I put her through, the late nights, the lies, the fights, and worst of all, the way I treated her.

  “You know your mom took it hard.... at first we thought we made a mistake. Then came your funeral and only a handful of people showed up. That’s when we knew you were a good candidate.”

  “Funeral? What funeral?” I yell.

  “Well, Mr. Long, we sent officers to your moms residence to inform her of the news. It's natural the way she reacted, and if it's any condolence, the officers let her down lightly. You see, on your way home from the courthouse, your car collided with a delivery truck. Unfortunately for you, the cargo was sulfuric acid, and I regret to inform you, your body was severely disfigured to the point that dental records were the only way to confirm your identity. We sent agents to your funeral to watch it, and quite frankly, what a sad existence you must have led. Less than 15 people came to your funeral. Aside from your mother, there were more people concerned over the price of coffee, than your soul.”

  “On a side note, a letter was mailed to your mother informing her that you had purchased a life insurance policy years earlier. Given your early age, you were able to get a huge sum for very little cost; one million dollars to be exact, payable directly to her. That money has been sent to escrow. She will receive those funds as we see fit. You play ball, and mom gets a million bucks; if you don’t, mom lives on food stamps.” Reese stands up and starts to leave the room.

  “I’m in....” I whisper. The thought of actually giving my mother something for all her pain has a lot of appeal to me. In all reality, the best I could have given her before was a gift card to IHOP that I stole from some drug store. She has already buried what she thought was my body, and gone through the grieving process. At least the money can ease her burden from the failure of a son I turned out to be. I picture mom, in my head, buying nice things and upgrading everything that she has put off for so long. Moving out of that trailer house and buying a real home. A home with a fireplace, a driveway, and a white fence. A lawn that doesn’t have weeds in it and clothes that don't come from second hand stores. Furniture without stains or holes and, best of all, barren walls to hang the many pictures of happy times.

  “I knew you would come around Mr. Long, or should I call you Haus? I prefer personal information not be used in this organization. We use either numbers or nick names. If you're a number, I don’t much care for you, but if you have a nick name, consider it a term of endearment. I trust you won't share that information with anyone else as it might offend some. So from this day forward, you will be regarded as agent Haus. Welcome to Omega Phi, rest a bit, and I will get back to you when you are ready.” Reese collects the photos and walks quickly out of the room.

  I figured that someday I would end up in rehab but this isn’t what I had in mind. My medicine induced coma has left me with very little physical strength. The most routine tasks are no longer possible, and without help in some fashion, I can't even use the bathroom. I do have my magical weapon with me. I have a little red button on my fancy watch that summons the best of the best to wait on me. I press my magic button, and wait for her voice. More often than not, I hear her voice, but sometimes I get the old nag whose voice is not to be desired rather avoided at all costs. Every time I get the old nag, she acts as if I have demanded her first born and is down right offended I called in the first place. Every request I have is always answered with the most half ass-ed response possible. I swear she wants me to feel like crap. I ask for a roast beef sandwich, she sends saltine crackers and yogurt. I really hate her. She is just a worn-out cat lady, that no one loves.

  “Yes agent Haus.” Her heavenly voice echoes into the room. I jump with excitement knowing that she is working, my request will be fulfilled, and even granted a rare treat if I sweet talk her enough.

  “I was expecting Gretchen.” Well that was a poor choice of words! I wish I could recall that phrase, effective immediately.

  “I’m sorry Haus, but Gretchen is not on duty tonight. I am sorry to let you down, but I can assure you that I can help you just as well.”

  “NO! For the love of any god, NO! No more Gretchen; I swear I will do anything, but no more of the old hag. That came out all wrong. I mean... NO! I want to hear your voice... Oh god that sounds just as bad... I mean... Please I just need to go to the bathroom and I don’t wanna jump through a bunch of hurdles not to mention wait for 45 minutes while she does god knows what.

  My door slides open and I see a figure enter my barely lit room. The only thing I can focus on is her eyes. Those stormy blue eyes, her burgundy colored hair, and the smell of cinnamon. Her eye liner was thick; her lips were plump and covered in black lipstick. The dragon tattoo running down her neck is covered by coils of burgundy hair. Here she is, finally, the angel of my nightmares, my voice in the darkness.

  “I’m Eve.” She says.

  “Eve? Is that your real name?” I ask.

  “Well no … It's my Phi name, but if you want you can call me agent number 466224562.”

  “No, I like Eve; its just that I was expecting you to look much differently. Your voice doesn’t really match your body. WOA! Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, I been locked in here going on a month now, and I have only heard your voice. I had a different mental picture of what you looked like. The only other person I have seen has been Gretchen. The 100 year old, over weight bag of wrinkles that treats me like a burden and smells like black licorice.” I manage to squeak out, but I suspect from the look on her face that she is not impressed.

  “Typical man, only worried about my weight, bra size, and dimensions. Did it ever cross your mind that not everyone is a rubber stamp mold of the norm? Let me guess.... You expected some blonde bimbo, with ruby red lips, an over exaggerated ass, with silicon jugs, and the IQ of broccoli?” Eve exclaims. Her voice was getting louder and more defined at every word. She steps closer to my ear and whispers.

  “For your information, Gretchen retired, which leaves me the entire medical ward to tend to. I have no other staff and am forced to take over her direct care role. I haven’t slept in 36 hours and the future isn’t looking any better. Our HR department doesn’t seem to think we need to replace the decrepit old hag, because I have the skills to do her job. So just between us, the more you sleep tonight and the less you hit your call light, the more sleep I can get before any management arrives in the morning. So let's just pretend you're 9 years old again, get your glass of water, and take a potty break right now, not later. Also, if you are hungry, let's get that done right now as well.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was such a hassle. I will try harder, and you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” I say. I didn’t know it was possible, but her words cut me harder than anything the old hag would have said. So blunt, honest, and direct that I felt like a complete idiot for being so selfish. Had I known her side of the story, things would have gone so much smoother for both of us.

  “Pick your poison.” Eve has a catheter in one hand and a urinal in the other. She waits a bit for my reply and then wiggles them back and forth. When Gretchen was taking care of me, I would have always opted for the urinal. That would have minimized the direct contact she had with me but tonight is different. The thought of having an attractive woman’s hands on my penis sounds like a damn good idea to me.

  “Catheter.” I reply sheepishly. I could have won an actor of the year for sounding so innocent and down right helpless. Eve gently pulls the covers back and applies a layer of lubricating jelly to the catheter. She grips my manhood in her left hand, and like a seasoned surgeon, inserts the catheter into me. A few moments later, the urine exit
s my body into the urinal. Like a true professional, she looks me directly in the face and offers some words of encouragement, none of which I am paying attention to. I didn’t even notice the sound of the liquid slowing down from a stream to a trickle, and then to drops. A few moments pass, and the silence is interrupted by her voice.

  “I think you're done, agent Haus.” I glance down to see Eve blushing and removing the catheter quickly. She pulls the covers back over me and that’s when I see it. A little white tent pitched over my groin. President Woodrow is at full salute, commander in chief reporting for duty sir! Eve hastily empties my urinal and exits the room without a word.

  “Rise and shine, Haus!” Eves voice echoes through the intercom in my room. Are you kidding me? It's morning already? I barely had time to catch a moment of sleep. I spent most of the night trying to get Woodrow to go to sleep. Any male who has ever gone to bed with a hard on knows negotiation won't work, resistance is futile, and all you haveleft is good old fashioned elbow grease. Anyone who has ever been an awkward teen knows it's best to improvise when things aren’t in your favor. A randomly discarded sock, some left over hair conditioner, and late night infomercials have subdued an entire generation from their frustrations. In my case, I had a plastic bag, some apple sauce, and a very creative imagination.

  “Thank you for letting me get some sleep. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch earlier, but I was frustrated. It's not your fault. I am just angry at the situation and not you in particular. You need help and it's my job to make sure you get that help. I’m kinda new to this direct contact with the patient idea. They didn’t prep me for this in college, and it was never mentioned in my contract.”

  “Great! You think I am some kind of weakling, unable to care for myself, but I can take care of myself! I used to play high school football... Yeah... Varsity team! That’s right! I owned that shit! Just call me king ding a ling!” I throw back the sheets, and push my weak legs to the edge of the bed. I rip the IV out of my arm, and just to push the envelope a little more, lick the blood from my arm. I spin my tongue around my mouth and spit onto the floor defiantly. I thrust myself forward only to find that my bravado has no back up at all. I crash to the floor in a broken heap.

  “Oh my god! Are you insane?” Eve's voice is drowning into laughter. She giggles for a bit and then helps me to my feet. I manage to stand by putting the bulk of my weight on her. The muscles in my body ache, and the burning sensation consumes my weakened frame. Eve eases me gently into a wheelchair.

  “I was coming in this morning to remove that IV, but I guess you already took care of that for me. It's time to start your physical therapy. We will start with the water tank and work on your balance.” Eve gently pats me on the shoulder as she wheels me out of the room. The door opens to a hallway painted in ugly gray primer. We cruise right past lots of rooms marked with numbered placards; each door is closed and there are no windows. We soon arrive at a wrap-around desk cluttered with papers, clipboards, computer screens, and standard office equipment. It looks like a standard nurse's station at a regular hospital except the entire thing is framed in with very thick glass. There’s an access door on the right and Eve enters it leaving me alone to look around. I bet its bullet proof glass and if I had a gun, I would test that theory. I watch Eve as she walks behind the glass, and to my delight, she turns away from me. Eve bends over to pick up a loose piece of paper. She places it on the desk and picks up the phone.

  I wonder if women do that intentionally? Do they realize that seeing them bent over immediately makes a man focus his attention to them? Funny part is, they get upset when they turn and realize you're staring at their rear end. Eve seems to be having a heated discussion with the person on the other end. I can't be sure because I cant hear anything behind that glass barricade. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense to have a reception desk enclosed in glass unless the idea is to keep someone or something away from whoever is sitting at that desk. Considering there is no opening to communicate with the person behind the glass tells me they didn’t expect any visitors much less care to listen to their thoughts or opinions.

  This place has a very distinct odor, earthy and moist, like a cellar or basement smell. I haven’t seen a single window here and I am starting to think I am underground. Eve slams the phone down and quickly rejoins me. She pushes the wheelchair down the hall but this time at a much faster pace. We arrive at a set of double doors. She presses a large handicap button on the side and the doors swing open wide. She pushes me through and the smell of chlorine almost knocks me out. There’s a large swimming pool much like any other but the shallow end of this one is tapered. There is a slow incline from the deck to the pool on the far end. It appears to be designed to allow large objects to be lowered into the water gradually. Eve pushes me around the edge of the pool to the far shallow end, and throws a life jacket to me.

  “In case you can't swim!” Eve says.

  “I am actually a pretty good swimmer. My mom used to take me to the reservoir to swim while she read books in the car.” Memories rush back to me of spending countless summer days swimming around that pond. The water was very dirty; you couldn’t even see more than 6 inches below the surface. One of my friends caught Dysentery after accidentally swallowing a mouthful of water. He missed one week of school and said he shit out blood for three days. But that didn’t stop us from swimming there because it was the only reservoir of water for almost 40 miles.

  Eve applies the brakes to my wheelchair and instructs me to stay put until she gets back. She walks casually behind a concrete divider. I stare at the perfectly calm water and marvel at how beautiful it is. The surface of the water is like a mirror reflecting the over-head lights causing its light to diffuse evenly across the surface. Eve emerges from behind the wall wearing a two piece black bikini. I am staring at her like a fat kid in a chocolate factory. I can't withdraw my gaze from her as she walks around the pool.

  I put the life jacket on and Eve guides me into the water. My head is resting between her breasts as she drags me into deeper water. Once we reach the 4 foot mark, she lets me go. I flail my arms around and move my weak legs. My arms take hold first and I am able to tread water. It feels great to be able to do something for myself. Now my legs have something to do as well, and the whole experience gives me a feeling of accomplishment. I am alone, treading water by myself, and it's filling me with optimism. I reach down and unbuckle my life jacket.

  “Wait! NO!” screams Eve. I toss the life jacket onto the deck of the pool.

  “I told you I can swim, so let me swim.” I say. My arms and legs work in unison and make lap after lap around the pool. I dive down to 18 feet and then up to the surface. I swim back to the four foot range and do a dolphins leap.

  “MARCO!” I yell. No response, so I swim to the west reaching out with my eyes closed.

  “MARCO!” Still no response.

  “MARCO!” Silence, but I hear some splashing to the east. So I swim with my eyes closed, reaching out for something.

  “MARCO!” I scream. Eyes closed and arms out stretched, I feel the faint touch of another human being. I lunge in that direction, and find myself fully embraced by her body.

  “Polo.” Eve whispers into my ear. Eve's lips meet mine and we embrace in a passionate kiss. Eve wraps her arms around me, and leans her nose against mine. We sit silently staring into each other's eyes, locked in a warm embrace. Her back is resting against the side of the pool holding me close.

  “I think that’s enough exercise for one day agent Haus.” Eve says.

  “Yeah, I’m starving, let's get something to eat.” I say. Eve helps me back into my wheelchair and then excuses herself to change her clothes. She wheels me towards the dining room. It is smaller than I expected, a simple room with stainless steel counter tops. A microwave, stove, fridge and dishwasher fill up space along the wall. Eve fetches two standard meals from the fridge and warms them in the microwave. A standard meal is a catered meal, prepackaged, and easily heated
with a microwave. They are readily available in the dining room fridge and free to any employee. On this fine day, the menu is roast beef with Swiss, au jaus dipping sauce, and peach cobbler. Not bad at all, and a vast improvement over my usual fair of oatmeal with whole grain wheat toast.

  “Finally, some real food!” I exclaim as I shovel food into my mouth. It's been so long since I have actually tasted beef that it almost makes me gag.

  “Sorry to withhold you from this, but doctors orders.” Eve says sarcastically.

  “Well, you can tell the good doctor that he damn near killed me with his diet choice! How am I supposed to get better being fed that soy based crap. It tasted like cardboard and only made me feel satisfied for 30 minutes. I need something with a little weight attached to it. You know like bacon, sausage, eggs, and even lasagna. Something I could eat and not crap out four hours later.” We finish our meal in relative silence. Eve collects the dishes, and sets them in the dishwasher.

  “How many people work here?” I ask.

  “This is the medical wing and as you can guess, not a lot. There used to be more, but as each entered into retirement they were never replaced. Gretchen and I were the last two standing, from what I learned from her. With Gretchen gone, I guess I am the last one, and then there’s you.”

  “So what you're saying is, we are all alone in this huge complex? No supervision and left completely to our own vices. I like those odds. When do we start looting?” I say jokingly. Eve laughs, rolls her eyes, and then places her soft hands on my shoulders.

  “Its not that simple.... I don’t know what happens on other wings, and I know we are deep underground. They have cameras all over the place, and they watch it very closely. I have never met a person outside the medical wing so I cant even confirm that there are even other wings. The only things that I know are remarks from Gretchen. They seemed innocent at the time but gave me clues to the whole base.” Eve explains.