Veil (39 page)

You experienced fucking. I wanted to do it
that way so you’d get over the shock and awe of it. Now I’m going
to show you sex. Real sex. From beginning to end. Every part of it.
Get ready bud, this right here is one of the things life is all
about
.
This is also why I wanted to empty the gun. See, I
told you. Pussy.

Brock’s eyes shot open. Hunter looked down at
the notebook and smiled as he stood. He set the notebook in the
chair and placed the pocket watch on top of it.

“Enjoy,” he whispered to his friend and
walked out of the lab. When he got to the door he looked back and
saw Brock’s eyes were closed. Hunter turned off the lights to the
lab, opened the door and
,
stepped
outside.

Ken was there, sitting in a chair by the door
of the lab.

“Everything ok?” he asked Hunter.

“Oh, yeah, perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just
letting the old boy have some privacy for this part. I needed to
stretch a bit anyway, maybe get a bite to eat. You hungry?”

“Sure,” Ken nodded and got up. “How long til
he’s done?”

“With this part, about two hours. Then a
quick wrap up.”

“Do I even wanna know?”

“Nope, you probably don’t.”

Ken chuckled as the two walked down the
street toward Ken’s car—which used to be Jin’s.

If Hunter timed it perfectly, he and Ken
should have arrived back at the lab right as Brock stepped out onto
a balcony while inside the Veil. He’d be seated on an outdoor
section of the hotel’s mezzanine level that overlooked the entry,
so Hunter could watch for his cab to arrive. Hunter walked into the
lab and turned on the lights. Brock immediately opened his eyes and
smiled at his friend. Hunter walked to him, lifted the notebook and
pocket watch off the chair, and sat.

Brock was still smiling and Hunter nodded.
Brock closed his eyes.

Hunter was sitting outside with a notebook on
his lap. The same notebook he’d have in the lab with him later.

“We both know you would’ve been a writer.
There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, and I have no idea why you’re
not
,
but I’ll leave that fact in your
hands. You would’ve been a writer, and you could still be a writer.
Period. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

Hunter sat on the hotel’s balcony and went
back and forth between writing down the exact timeline of the day’s
events and staring up at the night’s sky. He sat and enjoyed the
breeze and the sound of the fountain from the hotel’s entryway
below. He sat and took pleasure in writing, something he usually
never did, so his friend could feel the pen in his hand and the
notebook beneath. He knew Brock loved to write and he knew what
kept him from doing it, but he wasn’t going to press the issue.
That was all on Brock. All he could do was give him that feeling,
that sensation he otherwise couldn’t experience. He hoped it would
sink in with Brock and pull the writer out of him. Hunter knew
Brock would sense that hope as he experienced the moment through
Veil.

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel so
Hunter closed the notebook, jumped up, and went back inside the
hotel. He ran down the stairs from the mezzanine to the lobby,
where he exited through the revolving door and hopped inside the
backseat of the cab.

Hunter directed the cab driver to take him to
the lab’s address and then leaned his head back on the headrest. He
immediately lifted his head up; he was suddenly afraid he might
doze off and, in doing so, lose the entire day’s Veil. If he fell
asleep, Brock’s Witness would begin to rapidly dissipate and it
would lose all the vibrations caused by the events of the
day—vibrations that represented every single second of their day
together.

To keep himself awake, Hunter decided to
spend the last ten minutes or so thinking to Brock. He told his
friend he hoped overall the experience was a good one, and that he
tried his best to do things he knew Brock would enjoy. He tried to
do things Brock would do if he were able.

Hunter tried to be clear. That wasn’t meant
to be an insult and it wasn’t him pitying Brock. It was meant as an
acknowledgement of the fact that, because of the accident, there
were some things Brock simply could not physically do unassisted.
Hunter told his friend that he knew he’d understand what he meant
but he did want to be perfectly clear: Brock had all the ability to
do whatever the hell he wanted. His limitations were just that …
limitations.

So don’t ever be a punk
, was the last
thing he thought to his friend before he paid the driver, got out
of the cab and walked back into the lab, a little shy of twelve
hours after having Brock’s Witness uploaded onto him.

The Veil around Brock’s neck beeped and the
silicone sheet retracted into the base. Brock opened his eyes and
looked at Hunter. He smiled. Hunter smiled back. Brock grunted
repeatedly and looked out of the corner of his eye toward his
wheelchair that was positioned next to the bed and opposite
Hunter.

Knowing what he wanted, Hunter went to
Brock’s chair and detached the device Brock wore on his head to
control his computer. He pulled it to where Brock was laying and
placed it on his head. It took Brock a moment to get reoriented and
control the computer with his brainwaves again until the voice from
the chair’s computer eventually spoke one absurdly bromantic
line.

“For fuck’s sake dude, next time can we skip
to the end, where the cornhusk meets the whispering eye?”

When Ken walked back into the lab, the two
men were laughing so hard they had tears coming out of their eyes
and Hunter was gasping for air.

“W
hat in the Sam
Hill do you mean he’s been missing for eight days?”

“Sir, I was directed by Dr. Schaffer and Dr.
Pollock to retrieve Dr. Kennerly from his quarters and have him
report directly to the lab. Dr. Kennerly was not in his quarters.
From what I could ascertain, all or most of his belongings are
still in his quarters. I conferred with security who informed me
the last contact with Dr. Kennerly was exactly eight days ago,
Sunday at approximately o-six-hundred, sir. When I relayed this
information to doctors Schaffer and Pollock, they directed me to
report to you, sir.”

“They did, huh?” the General asked
rhetorically. “Fucking spineless whitecoat weasels,” he started as
he got up from his desk and walked to the door. “Not a set of real
balls between the those two jellyholes.” As he walked by the
serviceman he barked, “Dismissed, goddamnit.”

“Sir!” he exclaimed back and turned to follow
the General out of the office
.
The General
continued a stream of insults and invectives about the two lab
doctors.

“Eight fucking days, eight days. No one hears
from our main guy working on one of our most crucial projects for
eight damn days and no one fucking says anything to me? Someone
could’ve…”

The General turned down the long corridor
that led from the administrative offices to the research facility.
His black Oxfords clicked against the linoleum authoritatively and
with purpose. Although the serviceman should have headed in the
same direction as the General to get back to his post, he kept
walking straight ahead; he decided to take the long route back.

His pulse slowed back to normal as the
General’s rant faded in the other direction, “…done something to
him, found out about the project. Shitballs, ol’ boy could’ve been
in a fucking accident and these two mother…” until the serviceman
could no longer hear the General.

Schaffer and Pollock heard the General’s
booming voice grow increasingly louder as he made his approach.
They knew how the scene was going to play out; just like they knew
sending a grunt to deliver the news was of poor character. However,
they agreed it would be better to have the mess play out on their
turf rather than in the suffocating confines of General Coffman’s
office. At least their way, the General had to come to them.

“Does someone here want to tell me what the
fuck is going on?” the General was already yelling as the lab doors
slid open. “What in the merry fuck have you two been doing for the
last eight days?” he continued as he stormed directly through the
lab toward the conference room. He pushed aside everything in his
way, while not giving one single fuck about the equipment, which
was easily damaged. Silent the entire time
,
Schaffer and Pollock took their cue and followed the
General into the conference room.

“How has Hunter been missing for eight days?
How about someone tell me that?” he demanded and immediately shoved
the large conference table across the room. It vibrated against the
floor and its feet produced cringe-worthy clangs until it rattled
against the opposite wall. When it impacted, two of its feet rose
off the ground and immediately crashed back down.

While the table was still making its way to
its new position, the General threw the chairs to both sides of the
room; the chairs rumbled until they collided with the walls. One of
them tipped over on its side. Again, the General didn’t give it a
single thought or one fuck
.
Even if he did
have a fuck to give, he still wouldn’t have given it; he wouldn’t
have given them a fraction of a fuck. The General turned around to
face the two doctors, leaned against the table
,
and folded his arms.

His message was clear:
No matter where we
are, we’re always on my turf
.

“Ummm … ummm well, we were all three … I
mean, sir, we were all three off on Monday. Hunter said you
approved it because of the test run over the weekend and because
Hunter had that friend of his, that Brock guy, in town. Something
about taking him into D.C. So we were all three off and out of the
lab that day
,
sir,” Pollock stammered and
was already sweating.

“One. One day,” the General replied and held
up an index finger. He kept his hand in the air.

“Sir,” Schaffer chimed in and tried not to
sound as unsure and guilty as Pollock, “on Tuesday, Dr. Pollock and
I spent almost the entire day finalizing our summary reports on the
test runs over the weekend, which we submitted to you. You reviewed
them, sir.”

“Two,” was the General’s only response. His
hand was holding up two fingers.

“On Wednesday … Wednesday, sir, we were
expecting to be debriefed by you about the Veil results. But when
we didn’t hear anything from you … when you hadn’t directed us to
report to your office by o-nine-hundred, I called to speak with you
and was informed by your assistant you were still waiting for a
report from Dr. Kennerly in order to conduct debriefing. So—”