Jonah

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Eight

After two days, Jeremy was finally re-introduced to the Mercy Clinic. Many of the volunteers regarded him with caution (some with hostility), and to start with, while Vera attended to her priority duties, he was placed into the back room to take inventory of the medical supplies. Having never worked an actual job before assuming his father’s place at the head of ANC, he found the task to be quite menial and aggravating. The concept of counting everything confused Jeremy, as no one bothered to explain to him that they needed those numbers when placing orders for new supplies. This sense of pointlessness made it extremely hard to get motivated, and soon he found himself distracted by each new thing the sheet prompted him to count.

                One instrument in particular, a “catheter” as the label read, caught his attention. He held it up and inspected it in the dim light of the small closet-like room, wondering what on earth it was for. After giving up and deciding to move on, he simply hung it about his neck.

                After a few hours, Vera summoned him for a lunch break. He wasn’t done with the inventory, but welcomed the chance to get out of the musty closet with enthusiasm. She laughed when she saw the catheter around his neck and lifted it off his shoulders, placing it back among the rest.

                “What’s so funny?” Jeremy smirked nervously.

                “That was a catheter.”

                “I know that.”

                “Do you know what a catheter does?”

                “No. What is it?”

                Vera didn’t answer him and instead continued laughing as she left the room. Jeremy grumbled to himself as he followed her, wondering what sort of joke he was missing out on.

                The doctor joined Jeremy across the street for his break, offering to pay to show her gratitude. He declined, however, insisting that he didn’t need it. This seemed to offend Vera, and she didn’t say anything once they got their food. The first half of the meal was spent in awkward silence before Jeremy recalled something he’d been meaning to bring up days ago.

                “So what’s with all those copies of The Los Angeles Voice in my room? You into collecting vintage stuff?”

                Vera looked up at him and paused for a few moments, as if she didn’t have the words to express what she was thinking just then. “You’re kidding, right? That’s all you think that newspaper is? That was the last newspaper in the country, you know. The editor’s son was the CEO of ANC when they got sued to death, and it was rumored that the CEO was involved in…” She trailed off. “Wait a minute. You’re Rodney Malone’s son, aren’t you?”

                “Well, yeah. It’s kinda why I’m the CEO now.”

                “Then Jonah Malone was your…” Vera trailed off once more, trying to calculate where Jeremy fell into the equation.

                “Grandfather,” he finished. “Yeah, but I didn’t really know him. He and Dad kept absolutely no contact. I think he was there at one of my birthday parties, because I know I met him once, but I really didn’t ever get to know him. Things were tense between them, like they were between me and Dad.” He shrugged it off as he stabbed at his plate with a fork.

                Vera was suddenly intensely interested. Her eyes were wide and she was leaning forward. “I can’t believe… Am I really sitting in front of his grandson? I can’t believe you never even got the chance to meet him!”

                “The Voice went out of business ten years ago, Vera.” Jeremy quirked a brow, not quite understanding her excitement.

                “I know it did. I didn’t even read it back then. Readership was small, but dedicated… Everyone else just watched ANC. I was really ignorant before I discovered those papers… I found an archive of them and got to reading all I could get my hands on. I always thought that ANC was the authority, that their information was all you needed to know. When I read Jonah Malone’s articles, I learned that there were plenty of things that Fox Campbell and crew left out. Entire events, in some cases…” Vera leaned forward with her chin resting on her palm. “Nobody looks past ANC for information, so there are so many things that nobody ever finds out about. You guys just…omit what you please. Jonah told the rest of the story. Investigative journalism died with the paper…”

                Jeremy felt awkward about having his own corporation bashed in front of him, but what was even more awkward was the fact that he found himself agreeing with Vera. He’d spared a few thoughts toward the ANC’s omission of knowledge, but had never thought about his grandfather’s newspaper like this before. He’d known of its existence, but even when he got around to reading it in his room, he never thought about how important it was.

                “Tell me, Jeremy, where is he now? Can you introduce us? I know this is weird, but he’s my hero… He’s the one who inspired me to…” She trailed off once more. “…make a change in my life. Leave the current one I was leading and start a new one. Does that make sense?”

                “It makes sense, but uh… He died a few years ago. When the Voice went under he left for some…undisclosed location in Europe, and the last I heard he got sick and passed away.”

                “Oh…” Vera hung her head. “I see. Thanks anyway.”

                “It’s not like it’s the end of the world. I mean, other people will start up newspapers. It wasn’t too long ago that this happened.”

                “And take on the ANC giants?” A pause. “No offense.” Vera crumpled up her napkin and placed it on her plate, too entrenched in the conversation to finish her meal. “The war ruined the chances of any other media companies starting up. Now ANC can’t be stopped. If anyone tries to oppose them, they’ll just use their influence to get the law on their side. It’s basically illegal to start up anything in this country that’s not affiliated with ANC. I really don’t think there’s any chance for more newspapers in America.”

                Jeremy twisted his mouth, wanting to contradict her, but he had nothing to back it up with. The horrible part was although he owned ANC, he had no power to do anything with it. It was painful whenever the power he should have had occurred to him. Vera was probably expecting some sort of action from him, but he had nothing to offer. If he was going to do anything, it would have to be outside of the company. But he had no skills, no charisma, and no drive. He was useless. The only thing he could do was to submit himself to the menial tasks offered to him at the clinic.

                Their meal concluded, and they returned to the clinic shortly after. Jeremy finished up his inventory, and was then put to a more secretarial task in order to free up some of the more experienced and medically educated volunteers. He could have sworn he heard Vera muttering something about the catheter to a few of her coworkers before they all burst out laughing, but they fell silent as soon as they realized that Jeremy was staring. Apparently one took pity on him, because as she passed, she quietly murmured to him the function of a catheter. Jeremy immediately recoiled in disgust, and the rest of the group promptly burst out laughing again. After spending a few moments getting over his indignation, he started laughing a little as well. It was kinda funny.

                Jeremy appreciated that Vera didn’t have him working with people that day. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with the public just yet, but perhaps after getting used to the clinic’s atmosphere he’d be more comfortable around the clientele. It felt odd, coming off his first real day of work, but it was also very rewarding. There would be no paycheck to greet him at the end of the week, but he was still earning his rent at Vera’s house, so he felt quite accomplished. For once, he was working to earn something.

Over the next week, Jeremy neglected his office at the ANC building entirely. He had stopped checking his email altogether, hoping to keep Fox guessing about his whereabouts and whether or not he was even alive. The work at the clinic never got any more stimulating, but it was an enjoyable outlet nonetheless. Jeremy found himself in a better mood at the end of each day, and he had been able to adopt a consistent, regular sleep schedule for the first time in years—Vera pointed out that he was actually tiring himself out during the day, which was why he was so readily able to fall asleep at a decent hour. Admittedly, he still craved the vices of the life he once led, but found that it was easy to forget about them whenever he spent time with Shiloh after school, which allowed him to temporarily revert back to a time when life was simpler.

--

                The trauma patient finally emerged from the back while Jeremy was plugging information into the small desktop computer. He watched Vera helping him out, down the hall, and into the examination room. Jeremy didn’t catch the face of the patient until he was once again walked out of the room and into the main lobby.

                “So, just take what I prescribed and rest up some more and you should be fine. And don’t forget to call the police and follow up. At the very least you might be able to keep those muggers off the streets so they don’t get at anyone else.”

                “Heh, thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.” His eyes slowly wandered around the room until they met Jeremy’s. Both sets of eyes immediately widened before Jeremy ducked his head down behind the charts. That was Fox’s guy. That…Tillman guy. Yeah, his name was Tillman. What was he doing here? More importantly…he’d been shot?

                Lloyd said nothing and continued to express his gratitude before saying goodbye and leaving. After waiting about a minute and a half, Jeremy abruptly stood and made a dash out of the clinic. “Shit, shit, shit…” This was a disaster. Fox would know where to find him now. It was all over. He’d send the hitman and Jeremy would have to be on the run again. He couldn’t find Tillman as he stalked about the streets, running this way and that. He was on the verge of tears with frustration and worry, and nearly cried out when a hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

                “What’s the matter, friend?”

                Amanitas. Great. Perfect. Jeremy jerked away, too afraid of Lloyd Tillman to be afraid of this creepy teenager for the time being. “Just go away.”

                “Not until you tell me why you’re running around like a lunatic.”

                Jeremy slapped his forehead before slumping up against the wall of a building. “Fuck…” He slid down until he was in a sitting position. “It’s all over. That guy works for another guy who has the hitman out for me right now. I was hiding with Shiloh and Vera but now that he’s seen me and knows where I am I’m going to have to be on the run all over again.”

                “So, in order to make this problem go away, the man who saw you can’t reach his destination?”

                Not thinking, Jeremy murmured, “Yeah.”

                “Let me take care of it.”

                The executive slowly looked up, his eyes wide. This was against everything Vera had warned, against all of his better judgement, against everything that was righteous in the world—but he needed to stop Lloyd Tillman. His lips moved without any conscious thought behind them. “His name is Tillman. About six foot, short black hair, brown eyes. Wearing a grey clinic-issued t-shirt.”

                Amanitas remained where he was, grinning down at Jeremy.

                “What are you standing there for?” His voice was shaking at this point.

                “I need your go-ahead. Give me the word.”

                Jeremy’s own voice was now unfamiliar to him. “Go get him.”

                Without so much as a nod Amanitas had taken off running in the direction Jeremy had originally been headed. Jeremy watched with a feeling of dread collecting in the pit of his stomach. Before he knew it, the teenager was out of sight, disappeared into the urban jungle that was Los Angeles. It just then occurred to Jeremy exactly what he had done. He had unleashed an unknown force upon a guy who hadn’t even done anything. Whatever Amanitas was about to do, it wasn’t going to be good.

                Jeremy stood and began to walk briskly toward the clinic, bumping into several pedestrians as he did so. “He’s just a teenager,” he muttered under his breath, just quiet enough to be unheard among the ongoing buzz of the city. “He can’t do anything.” A pause. “Unless he has a gun. Shit. I can’t believe I just told him to—“

                He was pushed back by Vera, who had attempted to follow him after he made his dash out of the clinic. “Jeremy.” She shook him, but the horrified expression on his face did not fade. “Jeremy, what’s the matter? What happened?”

                “I…that trauma patient…”

                “What? What about him?”

                “He works for Fox.” A pause. “And he saw me.”

                “Hey, calm down. Don’t jump to any conclusions. You should just go home for now. He saw you here, not at the house. It’ll be okay. I’ll keep an eye out for any suspicious characters, okay? Just calm down and don’t do anything rash.” Her concern was evident on her face, and it occurred to Jeremy that he wasn’t just a tenant to her anymore. He was touched, but his guilt and fear of the situation overrode any other emotions at the moment. Without another word, he took off for home. It was going to be a long night.

--

                Instead of returning directly home, Lloyd made his first destination the studio, with every intention to give away Jeremy’s location. Through this stupid mixup with the assassin, he was able to accomplish his goal—he found Jeremy Malone, when any other circumstance would have kept him hidden. This had to be an act of fate. He couldn’t ignore this; he had to report directly back to Fox before resting at all like the doctor had told him to.

                Then an unseen force shoved him into an alleyway. Lloyd met with the cold, dirty cement immediately, and it took a few moments for his senses to return to him. By that time, a strange boy was standing over him with a calm, business-like expression. “You Tillman?”                 Without thinking, he blurted out the truth. “Yes. What was that all about…?”

                “Nothing personal, but I was instructed not to allow you to reach your destination.”

                “By who?”

                “Classified information.”

                Lloyd smirked, sitting up. “Well what are you going to do about it?” He paused, looking the teen up and down. “You don’t have a weapon, do you?” Amanitas didn’t answer him. “Oh God… Please don’t… I didn’t even do anything!”                 “Relax, I don’t have anything on me.” He turned out his denim pockets. “See?” Lloyd breathed a sigh of relief.

                “But you’re carrying a very dangerous piece of information, and I’m afraid I can’t allow you to make that delivery. I’m sure you understand.”

                Lloyd grit his teeth. “Malone sent you, didn’t he?”

                “Again, that’s classified. I’d tell you if this was a personal thing, but it isn’t.”

                Finding his strength, Lloyd rose to his feet and poked a finger into Amanitas’s chest. “You just get out of my way. I have no reason to be afraid of you, and I could get your ass thrown in jail for assault. If you’d kindly step out of the way, we can forget this ever happened.” Amanitas looked down at the finger, and mimicked his adversary, placing his own finger upon Lloyd’s chest. With seemingly no effort at all, he used that finger to push him over and knock him flat on the cement once more. The news anchor turned red from sheer embarrassment and immediately scrambled to his feet again. “H-how did you do that?”

                Amanitas just stood there silently, as if contemplating how he would carry out his task. Every now and then he would extend his fingers before clenching them into fists, digging his fingernails deep into the flesh of his palms. Lloyd indignantly stood again, but this time kept his distance. He was wary.

                “I highly doubt that my friend wanted me to kill you,” Amanitas slowly began with his hoarse voice, “But what I’m trying to figure out is how to keep you from reaching your destination. He sure stumped me on this one. Again, you’ve done nothing wrong to me, so I have no reason to make you suffer. But I also can’t just make you promise not to tell anyone what you saw.” He brought a hand up to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “I could just knock you out for a bit. Put you in the hospital for a little while. It’d keep you quiet and give my friend time to think about what he wants to do.” A pause. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” He took a few steps toward Lloyd.

                The news anchor in turn took a few steps back. He didn’t quite know how the teen would accomplish this without a weapon, but he knew that he had to have something up his sleeve. Amanitas lowered his head, allowing his curly, greasy hair to fall over his face. Slowly but surely, a wide grin split across his face. Without another moment’s hesitation, Lloyd took off running down the alley. He didn’t know how he’d get away, but he needed to distance himself from this kid. If he didn’t, something bad was going to happen. The gurgling in his gut was overriding the doubt in his brain, which coincidentally was the same effect Amanitas had been having on Jeremy. It was driving Lloyd crazy to the point of wanting to scale one of the buildings’ walls to reach a window. Anything to get away from this kid.

                There was no warning before Amanitas struck. In a matter of seconds he had Lloyd cornered against the wall he was investigating for windows, and like a wild animal he snarled and overtook the news anchor in a forceful tackle. Lloyd’s disembodied howl could only be heard a short distance from the alley before he was silenced as per Jeremy’s instructions. Mission accomplished.

                When a bystander discovered Lloyd moments later (an event to which he owed his life), Amanitas had already made himself scarce. An ambulance was quickly called, effectively sealing him off from his destination and Fox Campbell. The assailant, however, had stolen his cell phone, and once he had reached a place to sit that was safe and out of sight, he began to look through it. Amanitas had never owned a cell phone, and this was his first chance to actually hold one. He was quite amused.

                To his great surprise, it rang while it was in his hands, and he almost dropped it. The ID read “Campbell,” and when he slowly sounded it out, the name sounded very familiar. Without knowing any better, he answered it and put it to his ear, but merely listened instead of giving the customary greeting.

                “Lloyd,” the voice grunted on the other end. “Hey, you hear me? Lloyd?” This man didn’t sound too pleasant.

                “Amanitas,” the teen corrected in an equally brisk tone.

                “The hell? Who’re you?”

                “Not the owner of this phone.”

                “Well, that’s obvious. You work at that clinic?”

                “No.”

                “Well then, where’s Lloyd?”

                “Dunno. Somewhere. I left him in an alley. He’s incapacitated so he can’t reach his destination.”

                “Wait, they let him out?” Fox paused before Amanitas’s words hit him. “What do you mean by incapacitated?” he asked slowly.

                “Poisoned. I heard the sirens of an ambulance. If they found him he’ll live. If not…not my problem.”

                “Who are you?”

                “Amanitas.”

                “I know your name, but who are you?”

                “I’m nobody.”

                “The cops will beg to differ, once they get your identity and you take a ride in a squad car, asshole.”

                “I don’t have an identity. Technically, I don’t exist. Sorry, brother.”

                “What are you doing with Lloyd’s phone? What do you want?”

                “I was just looking at it when you called. You can hang up whenever you want.”

                “You with Malone?”

                “Not right now.”

                “But you’re associated with him.”

                “Maybe.”

                “Then why don’t you come see me face to face, tough guy? He thinks he can play my game? He’s got a lot to learn.”

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He didn’t say anything about you, so I have no reason to go see you.”

                “Where is he?”

                “Can’t say. We might meet someday. Depends on if you’re his enemy. If you’re his enemy, you’re my enemy.”

                “My enemies don’t last too long, asshole. I’d watch my mouth if I were you. You sound like a fucking kid—he recruit you from a high school?”                 “I’ve never been to school. I came to him. Just hope that you never have to meet me. You might not be as lucky as your friend Tillman. You’ll see what I mean when you visit him in the hospital.”

                “You can’t intimidate me. Just you wait. I’ll have you and Jeremy dead and buried before the end of the month. That’s a promise.”

                “No, Campbell, that’s a challenge.” Amanitas took the phone from his ear and chucked it from his seat at the edge of a roof. After doing so, he pulled his legs up to his chest and placed his chin on his knees. This Jeremy guy was dangerous. Too many enemies. He would have to work extra hard if he was going to protect Shiloh and Vera. Perhaps he’d have a little conversation with the man, to see just what was going on. The sooner he pointed a finger to the man he’d spoken with on the phone, the sooner all of these troubles would be over with, it seemed.

                It sounded like a fun way to pass the time before his next venture out of the state. He was waiting on the word of a friend, and it was taking an awfully long time. At least he wouldn’t be bored now.

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Seven

Jeremy’s internal crisis was a little more distracting than it should have been, and his walk home was taking considerably longer than it usually did. He passed the elementary school on the corner and gazed fondly at the chain-link fence before noticing a dangling pair of legs. Expecting to see Shiloh, he looked up and opened his mouth to greet his friend, but immediately snapped it shut when he was met with an unsettling sight. An older, more sinister-looking version of Shiloh sat imitating his younger brother. This was the first time Jeremy had seen him up close, but this teenager was unmistakably Amanitas. He was even creepier up close; there were dark, permanent circles under his eyes, and he was as pale as a ghost. His freckles stood out against his light skin in a way that looked unnatural, and he was so thin that Jeremy could see his cheek bones. He was smiling widely, earnestly like his brother. Jeremy was speechless, but Amanitas didn’t hesitate to start the conversation.

                “You didn’t say hi the other day.” His voice was hoarse and unrefined, like it was stuck in the transition from a child to an adult. It gave Jeremy goosebumps.

                “I didn’t see you.”

                “Don’t lie to me. I really don’t like liars.”

                “Look, I really can’t be hanging out right now. I have to get back. It’s not safe for me to be out right now.”

                Amanitas hopped off of the fence and landed too close for comfort. With a grin he swung his arm around Jeremy’s neck and began to walk with him. The embrace was far too strong to belong to a skinny arm clothed in loose, red-checkered flannel. He smelled foul in a way that Jeremy couldn’t describe, and he was growing increasingly desperate to get away.

                “Oh, you’re plenty safe. Don’t worry about that. As long as I’m here, nothing can hurt you. Why don’t I walk you back? We can talk on the way, and pretend that whole ignoring me thing never happened.”

                “I really have to—“

                “What are you so afraid of, Jeremy? Why don’t you feel safe?” His voice was almost mocking.

                Against his better judgement, Jeremy answered him truthfully. “Someone hired a guy to kill me.”

                “Ohhh. That explains it. Now, why would someone do that?”

                “Let’s just say I’ve made an enemy of a strange and powerful guy.”

                Amanitas laughed, but it sounded forced. Painful. “Well, let’s just say you’ve made a friend of a strange and powerful guy. You get what I’m saying? As long as we’re friends, it don’t matter what anyone else thinks of you. I have your back.” With that, he released Jeremy from his stronghold, and he was overcome with the strong urge to make a break for it. But something told him that if he did, there would be dire consequences.

                “I, uh, appreciate the offer.”

                “Well, I appreciate you looking out for my little brother. I heard what you did the other day. You’re pretty intense.” Another laugh. Jeremy wanted to cover his ears. “I definitely owe ya one for being there when I wasn’t.”

                Jeremy merely nodded and smiled. For someone who’d spent all his adolescence and beyond training in appearances, this was the challenge of a lifetime. He had the nagging feeling that Amanitas could read him like a book, but would never betray that he could. He was toying with Jeremy.

                “Anyway, I think I like you enough to overlook the fact that you had a peek at the delivery he was making. I’m sure none’a that made any sense to you anyway, did it?”

                Jeremy quickly shook his head.

                “Then I guess we can forget that and move on to other matters. Let’s talk about your new living arrangement. I trust that you’ll be there to look after Shiloh, am I right?”

                “Of course.”

                “And I know that Vera doesn’t think too fondly of you, but you’ll look out for her too?”

                “Well, yeah.”

                “Well then, I’m glad we have an understanding. I want you to know that Shiloh’s a very special kid, and that’ll be getting him into trouble as he gets older.” Jeremy had no idea what Amanitas could have been referring to, but pretended to understand nonetheless. “Vera’s doing her best to protect him, but unfortunately she’s resorting to lying to do just that. And I believe you know how I feel about lying, don’t you, Jeremy?”

                “What do you mean? What’s she lying about?”

                “I’m sure she’s given you that skimpy story of where she came from, how she adopted little Shi? Vague as hell, easy to repeat again and again? I’m sure Shiloh takes it as fact now, from how many times he’s heard it. And that’s no good.”

                “She was lying about that?”

                “She’s lying about everything. I believe in karma, Jeremy, and I’d hate to see her at the wrong end of it. I won’t tell you everything straight off the bat ‘cause that’s not right neither, but just know that she isn’t as…angelic as she might seem. She’s a great lady, don’t get me wrong, but she’s got skeletons in her closet just like the rest of us. And let’s just say hers are a bit nastier than the rest. And they’re tucked away real good. She won’t tell you nothing if you ask her.”

                Jeremy glared down at the concrete, trying his best to concentrate on Vera’s words from their last conversation. She’d warned against just this, but this was more of a trap than him seeking contact with the teen. Now that he was in this guy’s grasp, he’d just have to focus on not getting on his bad side, just like Vera had said.

                “Nothing to say to that?” Amanitas clasped Jeremy on the shoulder, causing him to jump. “You’re afraid of me. I guess I don’t blame you; I came off a little strong there. Just know that you have nothing to fear. I’m on your side, and I go to great lengths for my friends. If anyone gives you shit, you just tell me and I’ll take care of it.” Those words echoed in his head and reminded Jeremy of the time Shiloh brought up that very idea and the argument it caused. It was horrifying. “You keep looking out for Shi and Vera and I’ll keep you all safe. Now, I don’t know about you, but that sounds like an attractive bargain to me.”

                Once more at a loss of words, Jeremy nodded. By that time, they had reached Vera’s house, and Jeremy suddenly felt that he was safe. To a degree, at least. Amanitas took a few steps back and waved. “I’ll be off now. You be good—I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” He winked before walking off in the direction from which they came, and was out of sight by the time Shiloh came bounding out to greet Jeremy.

                “You’re home!”

                “Yup.”

                “How’d work go?”

                “It was okay.” No further explanation was required, as Shiloh grabbed Jeremy’s hand and led him into the house. Dinner was about ready, and he could already feel things returning to normal.

--

                Jeremy managed to keep his meeting with Amanitas secret, but the fact that their meetings were likely far from over was very unsettling. Vera seemed to suspect that something was up by how quiet and shaken he was, but she was interrupted by a phone call from Gene before the meal could conclude. She bid the other two to go on without her before stepping outside to discuss an apparent emergency. Shortly after Jeremy and Shiloh had finished eating, the doctor returned and asked Jeremy to watch her son while she ran off to the clinic. Apparently someone had left a trauma victim in their care, despite the fact that the Mercy Clinic was not an emergency center. It happened every now and then despite a sign posted outside, and they didn’t turn any patients away, but they made it a priority to heal them so that they wouldn’t take up the much needed space for long.

                “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, depending on how long Gene’s willing to stay with him, but please don’t leave until I get back. Is that okay?”

                Jeremy was slightly annoyed, but he and Shiloh voiced their understanding before Vera hurried out the door.

                “Guess it’s just us tonight. What do you wanna do?”

                “My homework’s done…” Shiloh stared down at the floor, scuffing his toes into the carpet. “There isn’t much else to do around here.”

                “Why don’t we see what’s on TV?”

                “I told you I can’t watch it without Mom around.”

                “No offense, Shiloh, but you’re mom’s a little straight-laced. But she’s not here, is she? Why don’t we bend the rules for just one night? I’m sure you have a favorite show that’s on right now that you’d be missing otherwise.”

                “I don’t really watch TV much, not even on the weekends. Mom and I play board games instead. Or I just go outside. Sometimes I go hang out with Amanitas and help him with stuff.”

                “Board games?” Jeremy snickered as he powered on the small television. After a bit of channel flipping, he turned it back off. “Nothing’s really on. We should go rent a movie.”

                “Mom said we’re not allowed to leave!”

                “There’s a vending machine right outside the gas station, right around the corner. C’mon, Shiloh, we’ll be gone for like two seconds.”

                Shiloh looked unsure and began to gnaw on his lower lip. After a few moments he looked up at Jeremy, incredibly anxious. “Promise?”

                “Promise. I’ll buy you soda, too. In the spirit of rule-breaking and all.”

                This seemed to create more conflict within the grade-schooler than excitement, but he reluctantly agreed anyway. The whole idea seemed harmless enough, and it would be pretty easy to keep a secret. Jeremy was slightly worried about running into Amanitas again, but that never happened, much to his great relief. He did, however, have the strange feeling that he was being watched the entire time. They made their purchases as quickly as possible before stopping before the rental vending machine. Shiloh had picked out a generic cola, and Jeremy had an energy drink for himself. It took all the restraint in the world not to buy a beer, but he knew that if Vera found the can it would be the end of him.

                “Oh, I saw commercials for this one. It looks funny.”

                “But that’s PG-13!”

                “…I knew you were going to say that.”

                “What about this one?”

                “You expect me to sit through that?”

                After some squabbling, Jeremy eventually settled on a PG selection that he considered to be the least painful—although it was still undeniably a children’s film. It would kill time before Shiloh had to be in bed, however, and that was all that mattered.

                On the way home, they passed a toy store that was going out of business. Jeremy paid no mind to it, but Shiloh lingered around the front of the store, right outside of the large display window. Window-shopping was mostly a thing of the past, but it apparently hadn’t lost its appeal to a younger audience. It was like kids were frozen in time—once they got to middle school (or earlier, depending on the affluence of the family) they got their own computers and that was the end of any fascination in anything else. Right now, Shiloh looked like he was damn interested in a brand new skateboard with an intricate wing design painted on the bottom.

                It was pretty expensive. It was understandable, as the small business was struggling to keep its head above the water. Shiloh hesitantly touched the glass, realizing that this skateboard was obviously not going to be a part of his reality. Judging by the way he regarded it, he was pretty used to admiring from afar. He knew he couldn’t have it, but he could dream.

                And that was just depressing. Jeremy touched Shiloh on the shoulder, and the boy was yanked back into reality. “Oh! Sorry. It just looks really cool.”

                “The skateboard? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never used one before. I barely know how to ride a bike.” Jeremy smirked, shrugging.

                “I tried one out once. My friend’s dad made one for him out of spare parts. I fell on my butt.” Shiloh smiled, but it was half-hearted. “It made me want to try it again, though.”

                “I’m sure you’ll get the chance. Come on, let’s go home and start the movie. I can’t stand seeing you so sad-looking. You’re like a kicked puppy.”

                “I’m not sad! Seee?” The boy grinned up at Jeremy, baring is teeth in an exaggerated fashion. Jeremy laughed and pushed his head back down, ruffling his hair.

They returned home without any further delay, and the popping open of cans took place immediately. Shiloh took his first sip and his eyes grew wide. “This…is…awesome.”

                “It’s soda. It’s full of sugar. What were you expecting?” Much to Jeremy’s dismay, Shiloh began to chug the bubbling liquid, and was unable to stop him before he coughed half of it up. After a few belches, he wiped his running nose on the back of his sleeve. “That burned… I’m sorry, Jeremy.” Jeremy began wadding up handfuls of paper towels to pad at the carpet while Shiloh watched him, eyes prickling with tears from the carbonation. He began to work on the other half of the can, sipping slowly this time.

                “Shit, it’s gonna stain…”

                Shiloh gasped, slamming the can down on the coffee table and quickly covering his hands with his ears. Jeremy narrowed his eyes at the boy before rolling them. “Come on, it’s not like you’ve never heard the word before. Chill out.” After doing the best to pad out the brown liquid, he threw away the paper towels and returned to the couch. Shiloh was still covering his ears, looking quite upset.

                “I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again. Just…just put your hands down, it’s bugging me. Just watch the movie.”

                Shiloh did as he was told, picking up his can once more to finish off his beverage. The two sat in silence for the first thirty minutes of the film before Shiloh began to squirm in his seat. Jeremy ignored it at first, but it eventually became exaggerated enough to be distracting. “What?”

                “I have to use the bathroom…”

                “Then go do it. I’ll pause it.”

                The boy quickly scurried off, and once he’d finished and re-emerged, he had absolutely no interest in sitting down. As he stood in front of the television screen, his eyes were wide and he was bouncing up and down on his toes. “I don’t like this movie.”

                “Me neither. Wanna watch TV?”

                “No.” Shiloh searched the room for ideas with exaggerated head motions. Jeremy could see where this was going. “I don’t know, let’s go outside.” He was talking too quickly. This wasn’t good. Shiloh wasn’t reacting well to his first dose of caffeine. “I wanna go somewhere.”

                “But we can’t, we aren’t allowed to leave. Just calm down, Shiloh. Come sit next to me.”

                “No!” Shiloh began to giggle. Jeremy let out a groan and stood, but as soon as he approached the boy, he was tackled to the ground. “Let’s wrestle! C’mon! Rrrrr…” He growled and began to tug at Jeremy’s face, stretching his cheeks. “What’re you gonna do about it? Huh? Huh?”

                “Ger offa me—“ Jeremy sputtered, trying to push the boy aside. He wasn’t heavy, but his arms were like immovable stone structures. From what Jeremy could see, he had little muscle mass, but he felt like he was being pinned by a professional wrestler. “No—seriously! Shiloh!”

                “Make me! Haha!” Shiloh was talking and laughing in a way that made him sound like the talking chipmunks they’d been watching on the screen a few minutes prior. At a loss for what else to do, Jeremy began to tickle his sides, which made him loosen up his grip. Now that the boy’s guard was down, Jeremy grabbed and arm and a leg, and after a few swings back and forth, he threw him onto the couch. Luckily, he landed safely, but a weaker swing would have sent him flying into the coffee table. This night was turning out to be a disaster, but Shiloh was having the time of his life. He rolled around on the couch, curled up in a ball and laughing until his face turned red. Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair, panicking. The only thing he could really do at this point was let the caffeine run its course, but that was going to take hours.

                It was going to be a long night.

--

                Vera returned just before dawn, and found her son and Jeremy sitting on the floor, propped up against the coffee table. Both of them were asleep, and Shiloh was leaning up against Jeremy. A historical documentary was on, but something told Vera they hadn’t intended to watch it. She bent down to pick Shiloh up and carry him to his bed. When she returned, Jeremy was still clonked out, his head rolled back and his mouth half open. Folding her arms across her chest, she repeated his name until he finally snapped awake.

                “Huh? What?” He frantically looked around, knowing that something was missing.

                “I put him to bed. Next time I’m calling a sitter. Is that a soda can?”

                “…no.”

                “Jeremy.”

                “He never had it before! I figured one can wouldn’t hurt!”

                “When did he fall asleep?”

                “I don’t know. Last I remember I was still trying to get him to shut up.”

                Vera pinched the bridge of her nose before turning off the television. “If I wasn’t so tired I’d be giving you such a lecture right now… You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out.” Jeremy hung his head. “No, look at me. No more soda. Understand? He doesn’t need that kind of garbage. I think you learned that the hard way.”

                “Yes, Mom…”

                Vera kicked him in the side as she passed him to pick up the mess the two had left earlier in the evening. As he got up, Jeremy asked, “So what was that emergency all about? Was the guy all right?”

                “He’s a young guy, so he’ll recover all right. Was shot in the back. Says he was mugged but doesn’t remember what the guy looked like. Keeps insisting that we don’t call the police, that he’d follow up himself once he got out. The whole thing’s kinda weird, if you ask me… He lost a lot of blood and was unconscious when Gene found him outside the clinic. He’s stable now, so we called in a volunteer last-minute to just keep an eye on him, at least until I get a decent amount of sleep.” The doctor rubbed at her eyes, obviously exhausted. “I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this… We need more help.”

                Jeremy looked down at the soda stain on the floor, not knowing how to comment on a problem he was unwilling to help with. Apparently not looking to continue the conversation, Vera finished tidying up before turning off the light in the kitchen and heading to her bedroom.

                “Wait.”

                “Mm? Jeremy, I’m really tired…”

                “Uh. Let me come to the clinic with you tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do about helping out. I mean, I don’t have any medical knowledge, but…”

                “Oh, Jeremy, we need all kinds of help. You don’t even know. I’d really appreciate it…” Vera lifted her head, and a soft smile spread across her face. “Will you really?”

                The executive was unable to resist that face. He sighed before slowly nodding his head, returning the smile.

                “Thank you,” she replied softly before entering her bedroom and closing the door behind her. He could tell that the thanks would have been a lot more enthusiastic had she any more energy—and that was precisely why Jeremy knew he had to be pulling his weight from here on out. Even if he had to deal with sick poor people.

--

                Jeremy spent a great deal of time and energy trying to convince himself of the opposite, but Amanitas had definitely taken to stalking him. It was almost more terrifying to see that teenager out of the corner of his eye than it had been to see the hitman with his gun that night he was chased home. He still hadn’t brought this up with Vera, hoping that the problem would just go away, but a second confrontation was inevitable. He could feel it.

                It happened when Jeremy was walking Shiloh to school early one morning, having been up and craving the fresh air. The teenager approached them as casually as possible, and Shiloh backed away shyly, knowing that Vera had instructed Jeremy to keep out of contact with his brother. As Amanitas approached the executive with familiarity, however, Shiloh dropped the caution and instead said, “You know each other?”

                “I introduced myself to him a while back. He hasn’t gone out of his way to see me, though.” Amanitas clasped Jeremy on the shoulder, much like a brother would, and he flinched.

                “Leave him alone, Amanitas. Mom told him not to talk to you.”

                “But she didn’t tell me not to talk to him.” He looked back up at Jeremy and with a smirk asked, “I don’t see any problem with us being friends, do you? Now, what would be problematic is if we became enemies.”

                Shiloh frowned and grabbed Jeremy’s arm. “But Jeremy’s good. He’s my best friend.”

                “I know he’s a good guy. It’s why we’re friends, get it?”

                “Shiloh really needs to get to school now. He’s gonna be late.” Jeremy twisted his mouth in discomfort. Shiloh nodded vigorously in confirmation. “Maybe we can hang out after school,” he said.  

                “All right, all right.” Amanitas threw his hands up defensively. “Just know that I’m here for you too, okay?” He slowly met eyes with Jeremy before turning his back. “And you’ll tell me if anyone’s giving you trouble, right, Jeremy?”

                “…sure. Come on, Shiloh.” They went their separate ways, and before Jeremy and Shiloh continued on their way to the school, he noticed an odd marking on the back of Amanitas’s neck. A tattoo, it seemed. He couldn’t make out what it was exactly, but it was small and linear. Odd. Not thirty seconds after they had continued walking, Jeremy sighed and said, “He startled me. That guy does not know how to approach people.”

                Shiloh put a finger up to his lips. “Shh! He can probably still hear you!”

                Jeremy looked over his shoulder before scoffing. “He’s not even in sight anymore. Don’t worry about it, Shiloh.”

                Shiloh looked down again, appearing quite uncomfortable. “I bet he can still hear you. He always can. Anyway, why does he know you, Jeremy? I thought Mom said…”

                “Hey, I never approached him. He came up to me one time, we shared a really weird conversation, and then we went our separate ways. What should I have done? Ignored him?”

                “No…that wouldn’t have been good either. I don’t know why Mom’s so worried but she is and it’s making me worried too. He was talking to you weird. He doesn’t talk to me like that.”

                “Like what?”

                “It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s making fun of you. Talking all slow like you’re younger than him.”

                “You think he doesn’t like me?”

                “Hard to tell.” A pause. “Jeremy, why didn’t you tell Mom that you met him?”

                “I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I mean, it’s not like anything happened.”

                “I think you should talk to her about it.”

                Jeremy sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Shiloh, are you my conscience?”

                Shiloh glared up at him before tilting his head. At that point they had reached the elementary school. “What’s that?” 

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Six

Lloyd Tillman was having a difficult time reading Fox. He had been making plenty of television appearances beside his mentor, but behind the scenes, they didn’t talk much at all. It was as if the news anchor had lost interest in having a successor altogether. Lloyd knew that part of it had to do with Jeremy Malone, who had reportedly not returned to his home in over a day. When he’d first been coerced into accepting this position, he was hoping for any way out, unsure of his ability to live up to the expectations that suddenly fell upon him. Now, he was worrying himself over whether or not Fox still wanted to train him to take his place. Was it reverse psychology, perhaps? All Lloyd knew was that at this point, he was willing to do nearly anything to win back the legendary news anchor’s attention. He was going to be huge, and Jeremy Malone—a man he’d never even met—wasn’t about to get in his way.

                Lloyd had resolved to inquire about the Malone situation and see what he could do to help. Perhaps if he proved his initiative enough he’d be able to gain respect. When he approached Fox that afternoon, asking what he could possibly do to help, the older news anchor merely grunted, “Find him,” before kicking him out of the office. This obviously hadn’t been the best time to ask, but this was just the lead he needed. If Lloyd could find Jeremy Malone, all of his worries would disappear.

                It quickly became apparent, however, that there were no leads. He didn’t have a cell phone, and neither did he have any friends that he would have told. His social networking homepage was devoid of anything useful. Lloyd’s only real option at this point was to check the man’s apartment for any clues to where he might have gone, but he was going to have to resort to unlawful measures if he we going to try this. Breaking and entering, even if the inhabitant was considered missing, was still a crime. After some internal debate, Lloyd finally decided to at least go by and check the place out. Maybe Jeremy had returned home but hadn’t told anyone. That was entirely possible, as he couldn’t be tracked via cell phone signal.

                His personal address was easy enough to find after some rooting through his office, which was in pristine condition from lack of use. It wasn’t too far from the headquarters, so Lloyd decided to take action that evening, when fewer people would be out and he would be less conspicuous.

                He wore concealing yet plain clothing, hoping not to draw too much attention to himself. The complex was slightly secluded and difficult to locate, but once he found that it was easy to navigate the room numbers to find the one that belonged to Jeremy. To start with, he tried knocking on the door, and as expected it yielded no results. Lloyd shuffled around in the hall, debating his next move. Despite his better judgement, he soon settled on checking the door handle to see if it was locked, expecting no luck. Surprisingly, the handle turned without any resistance. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open to a crack. After another deep breath, he entered. The hallway was empty, but littered with random items. Upon entering the main living room, Lloyd discovered that the rest of the apartment was in the same state. He didn’t get much of a chance to investigate, as he soon heard rustling; he was not alone. Panicking, he made a dash for the front door, and was unable to see the occupant as he emerged from another room. Before he knew it, he’d taken a gun shot to the back, causing him to collapse and fall unconscious, sprawled out on Jeremy’s carpet.

                The other intruder casually strode up to Lloyd and gently nudged the limp form with his boot. He then used his foot to lift Lloyd, turning him over to get a better look—had to be certain before finishing him off. After a moment’s inspection, he noticed a crucial mistake. Black hair, not blonde. Significantly shorter, too. Shaking his head, the hitman murmured, “Shit. Wrong guy.”

                Whatever business this guy had breaking into Jeremy Malone’s home, he couldn’t afford to step out to take care of the wounded man now. His target could return at any time, and he couldn’t afford to let him get away again. He had a reputation of efficiency to uphold. He wouldn’t let the stranger die on the carpet before him, but he’d take care of it himself and resume his stake-out. Nothing would budge him from his spot.

--

                After that dreadful weekend came and went, Jeremy was allowed to go back out on his own, but every night he had to pass a personal inspection by Vera. It wasn’t like he had the chance to do anything—with his phone broken and his home presently occupied, there was no real way for him to get in contact with his friends. By severing him from his social life, Vera had effectively cut Jeremy off from a good deal of his temptation. He didn’t feel much better, but he could at least sleep decently after the first few days. She reassured him that it would be a long process, and that he should stay in as often as possible to avoid any more slip-ups.

When Jeremy returned to work for the first time, Fox wasn’t in. Apparently the news anchor had taken a mental health day, or at least that was what those who worked under Fox told him. He was somewhat relieved that he didn’t have to deal with the man, and it gave him the opportunity to get some of his affairs in order while he was in his office. Instead of going straight there, however, he lingered and eventually stopped to take a peek into one of the studios where a routine headline news segment was being filmed.

                It was like stepping into another world, all in the same building where he droned away at his desk. In his office, time stood still and the air was thick and heavy…sleep-inducing. Here, there was constant movement, and the hectic bustle of people kept an alive, youthful feeling about the place. Jeremy hadn’t set foot in a newsroom in years, and it was like a breath of fresh air. Deciding to linger a little while longer and observe, he shut the door quietly and stood in front of it, crossing his arms over his chest. Some of the crew who noticed him acknowledged him—they technically had to since he was the chief, despite his absenteeism—but otherwise paid him no mind. They knew that he wasn’t there to check up on their performance, because that would be more work than they were ever used to seeing him do.

                It occurred to Jeremy how expansive ANC really was when he realized that he hadn’t met any of the news anchors who were currently on-screen in person. He had, of course, seen them on television. Everyone saw them. They were bigger than any film star and musician simply because they had so much exposure to the public. ANC had access to every channel, and could broadcast universally if they ever saw fit. This access dated back to the war when the government sought out an easier way to reach the people. That was the beginning of the end for the other companies, now that Jeremy thought about it. But that was way before his time. Just before Fox’s time, even. The future had been forged for them without their consent, and now the world was stagnant and unchanging. Nobody had any say anymore, not even people in power like Jeremy or Fox. The companies were their own mechanical entities, and they consumed all of the manpower and souls that found their way into them.

                Perhaps he could have tried harder, but it all seemed so futile. This company could run itself. Why was he even needed? Was he just a figurehead? Watching this segment made him jealous of those actually involved in the process of transmitting information. If anything, they were the lucky ones.

                Jeremy stopped for a moment, wondering where in the world that train of thought had come from. It hit him all at once, and left his head spinning. Now was not the time to become so painfully self-aware. He was plenty important, and had plenty to keep alive for. Fox was out of his mind, and Jeremy needed to put him in his place. That’s what bosses were supposed to do.

                The broadcast concluded, and the anchors and crew began to talk amongst themselves, assuming a more casual attitude. Public appearances were draining; Jeremy knew that all too well. Before he left, he waved from his place in the very back of the small studio and shouted, “Good work, everyone. Keep it up.” He left before he could receive a response.

                There was a look of confusion among those who’d heard him, and they began whispering to one another once Jeremy turned his back.

                Upon returning to his office, Jeremy found his desk drawers was wide open, and he was sure he hadn’t left it like that. Fox had probably been trying to find something; he was always snooping around in here. He’d never been so careless before, though. Dismissing the thought, he took a seat at his desk and started up his computer. There were no new emails since the previous day, and without anything else to accomplish on the machine, he shut the machine down again. He scooted back in his chair, and then scooted forward. His desk was empty. His drawers were virtually empty save for a few unimportant documents and office supplies. He had no appointments—he never did. No messages on his office phone. There had been absolutely no point in him coming in to work that morning.

                “What did you do all day, Dad?” Jeremy dug his fingers into his scalp, staring down at the smooth finish of his expensive, custom-made desk. ANC really was its own machine. It employed hundreds if not thousands of people who all did a little more work than he did and together they made up this powerhouse that worked to make people more ignorant than informed.

                Why had this never seemed so ridiculous before?

                The walk home that day was even worse. How could such a densely populated city make one feel so alone and vulnerable? Despite not having any friends or family to speak of, Jeremy was constantly surrounded by people whether he liked it or not. Many pretended to like him. Others simply respected him—at least until the events of two days ago. The crowds were like cardboard cutouts. They were like an illusion, placed into his field of vision and hearing in order to give him a false sense of security. The only real people in the entirety of Los Angeles were Jeremy, Fox, and Shiloh. And Vera. The rest were a mirage in the urban wasteland. It was like that everywhere in America these days. Jeremy had taken a few tours across the country, and very few areas were any different from Los Angeles. Crowded, loud, miserable, empty. He began to wonder if the other places around the world were like this. Jeremy had never been outside of the country, so he wouldn’t know. Overpopulation was definitely a problem all around the world, but perhaps other nations managed it better. Maybe Fox was right. Maybe he’d be better off getting out of here.

                But what if the world had nothing to offer him? What if the world was just some giant, foggy, dirty Los Angeles, with no escape?

--  

                With a phone call beforehand and a door-knock password established, Fox set out for Jeremy’s apartment the moment he heard about the hitman’s mix up. It baffled him that Jeremy would have any visitors, but by the description he was given it definitely wasn’t the target that was shot and currently bleeding on the living room carpet. When he arrived, it took the occupant a few moments to answer the door, but when it opened he was quickly ushered inside. It was risky for Fox to be seen here, but he was far too bold to let the risk deter him.

                “Where is he?”

                “I put him in the bath tub.”

                “Original. Did you hit any vitals?”

                “No, I checked. He’s bleeding, though. This isn’t my area of expertise, Mr. Campbell. I kill people, not heal them.”

                “Well, you should have thought about that before you shot the wrong guy. I swear, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself,” the news anchor growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He paused and took a few deep breaths, knowing that he had to be conscious of his stress. “All right, let’s take a look.”

                By the time the two men entered the small bathroom, the third was conscious—barely aware, but conscious nonetheless. Lloyd stared forward with unfocused eyes, obviously confused about his surroundings. His wound was bandaged by his shirt, which was torn to shreds to make a more functional binding. His blood was smeared everywhere—all over the walls, the mirror and on the hitman’s hands. It was a rather grotesque scene, but that wasn’t what startled Fox the most.

                “Lloyd?”

                “M-Mr. Campbell…?” His eyelids drooped and his head hung forward for a few moments before he suddenly snapped up, wide awake. “Wha—what is this?! Why…why am I… Is that my blood?” His voice cracked, and it betraying the fact that he was pretty young for his status. “What’s…I don’t even…”

                Fox ignored his successor and instead turned to the hitman, his face entirely calm but his hands shaking with a bubbling rage. “Care to tell me why you shot my intern?”

                “This kid’s with you?”

                “Yes, I believe I’ve made myself clear.”                 “What was he doing in Malone’s apartment?”

                “Hell if I know. What were you doing, Lloyd?” Fox jerked his head in Lloyd’s direction, and where he normally would have flinched, his dull facial expression remained unchanged. The effects of blood loss were obvious.

                “You told me to find him.”

                “I don’t remember telling you anything.”

                “I just wanted to help. You were really stressed…”

                Fox grunted and turned to the hitman. “I pick this guy at random and he has the hardest time just taking orders and leaving it at that. Always feels the need to do more. Maybe I should just let him bleed…”

                “He’ll stink up the place. I have to live here until the target shows up, if you recall. The place is disgusting enough already.”

                “Are you an assassin?” Lloyd asked hazily. He was promptly ignored.

                “Well, what do you want me to do with him? Take him to the hospital?”

                “That would be the logical thing to do.”

                “And tell them what? We were dueling?”

                “Well you can’t leave him here.”

                Fox turned to Lloyd, who was fighting to keep conscious and had lost his awareness, and glared sharply. “So you just wanted to help. You piece of shit. You’re just as big a liability as he is.”

                “Why don’t you dump him off at that Mercy place? They don’t file reports because they’re not affiliated with PhysicAID. As far as I know they don’t ask questions.”

                The news anchor looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever. I guess we can let the commies deal with him. It’s not like he’s worth any more than that.”

                “I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell…” Lloyd moaned half-heartedly before sinking into the tub as if he were really taking a bath.

                “Want me to take him?” the hitman offered.

                “No…I have to. You need to stay here in case Jeremy comes back. He’s too attached to his shiny toys; he’ll be trying to get in here whether he plans to or not. Just be sure to look before you shoot this time, all right, genius? I’m not paying you for additional casualties that I have to account for.”

                The hitman wanted to fire off a comeback, but a client was a client, and he had to earn a living. Instead he nodded his head.

                “And Lloyd—if you can hear me, I don’t want you talking about any of this if they ask you what happened. You say you got mugged, okay? Don’t get police involved, either. You hear me, Lloyd? I’ll have you offed next if you let any of this slip. That’s a promise.”

[jonahiswatching]

TO MY SIX READERS

THANK

AND GOD BLESS AMERICA

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Five

He woke at a decent time the next morning, and decided that if he was going to shut himself up in his apartment for an indefinite amount of time, he would need a great deal of supplies. And weapons. Once he had those, he could use some of his furniture to barricade his doors and windows. Staying safe wasn’t going to be an issue. Staying sane, on the other hand, would be an entirely different feat. This would be a temporary arrangement while he came up with a more coherent plan. This was the only line of action he could take at the moment, all things considered.

                Jeremy left for the One-Stop Superstore at an ideal time, late in the morning. Bright and crowded. He’d likely be followed, but the hitman wouldn’t be able to do anything until Jeremy was all alone. And by the time he was alone, he’d be safe in his fortified apartment. When he left, he locked his front door, but didn’t take any further precautions. The idea of doing so didn’t occur to him.

                The walk to the One-Stop was a long one, but it was far too crowded to be able to drive. One could only drive within Los Angeles in the wee hours of the morning, if they were lucky. Otherwise they would find themselves in a traffic jam that lasted for almost a day. The streets were narrow and favored the pedestrians on the peripherals, so the majority of inner-city commute was done on foot. The people had no other choice.

                Jeremy purchased a good deal of non-perishables from the store and two guns from a sports shop in the same complex. He’d never bought a firearm before, and was astounded at how downright easy it was to obtain one. They didn’t even ask for identification—not that anyone would need a card to identify Jeremy Malone. He was quietly thankful to be able to walk in and make his purchases without any hassle, especially with the situation in which he’d found himself.

                To say that the grocery load was heavy was an understatement. He only had four bags, but cans were ridiculously heavy, not to mention the firearms. The walk home was a slow, sluggish struggle, but Jeremy made sure not to take it for granted. He wouldn’t be exercising or getting any fresh air like this for a long time. This was an opportunity for him to stretch his legs and exert his muscles before he rotted away in his own home.

                God, he hoped it wouldn’t be that long. But who knew what would happen?

                “Hi, Jeremy.”

                “Oh, Shiloh.” The CEO looked down and sure enough saw the little boy striding in an upbeat matter right beside him. “How’re you this morning?”

                “Okay. Those look heavy. Need any help?”

                Jeremy laughed. “Oh, no. It’s okay. I got it.”

                “Your hands are all red. Those bags are really weighing down on you. Let me have two, and you can carry the other two.”

                “No, Shiloh, it’s really okay. I got this.” Shiloh shrugged and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but no sooner than he’d done that did Jeremy’s shoulder cramp, forcing him to put all of his bags down and stretch. “Ow…ow. I hate when that happens.”

                “Let me carry them for a bit, then.”

                “All four?”

                “Yeah. It’s okay.” Shiloh smiled up at Jeremy, baring the gap in his teeth. Without any further warning, he grabbed two bags in each hand and lifted them with ease. The two continued walking once more as if nothing had happened.

                “Geez, Shiloh. Way to make me feel like an old geezer. How the hell are you holding them so easily?”

                “They’re not that heavy.” Realizing that those words might be construed as an insult, he quickly shook his head. “To me, I mean. I’m sorry. I know they were hurting your hands. Is your shoulder okay?”

                Jeremy winced, his face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just moved it weird under the weight.”

                “Oh, okay. So, are we taking these back to your place?”

                “Mm-hm. It’s not too much farther from here. My shoulder isn’t hurting anymore—let me grab two.”

                “No, I got this.” Shiloh grinned slyly up at Jeremy.

                “That’s not fair.” The two continued to walk in silence, and Shiloh didn’t seem weighed down by the bags at all. He was glad that the boy hadn’t taken the time to inspect the bags; otherwise he’d have noticed the fact that Jeremy was trying to take two guns back to his house. That was enough to arouse some suspicion.

                “So, what grade are you in?”

                “Third.”

                “You do well in school?”

                “I guess.” Shiloh shrugged. “I have a lot of trouble reading. I can’t do it fast like the other kids. Math and science are okay, but I guess that’s because Mom is really good at those subjects. She helps me with homework whenever she has the time.”

                “You spend an awful lot of time with her. How about your brother? Was that the guy you were with yesterday?”

                “Yup. That’s Amantias. He’s the coolest brother ever.”

                “Amanitas? That’s a weird name.”

                “It’s a nickname,” Shiloh replied with a shrug.

                “Then what’s his real name?”

                “I dunno.”

                Jeremy craned his neck back in surprise, a look of disbelief on his face. Deciding not to question it, he simply nodded. “Do you hang out with him a lot?”

                “No, I don’t get to see him very much… He doesn’t live with Mom and me but he comes to visit every so often. He goes around and does work with some of his friends. Sometimes I get to help, but it’s never anything fun. Like the delivery I was making that day I met you.”

                “What does he do for work, then?”

                “I’m not sure… He says he’s a liberator, but I don’t know what that word means. I looked it up online but it didn’t really tell me what he did.”

                Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “A liberator frees people. But I don’t know how that would apply to your brother.”

                “He said he’d tell me more about it when I was older. Maybe even let me come with him.”

“I think you should focus on school for now.”

“That’s what Mom says. I want to, but Amanitas is so cool and I want to be like him. He doesn’t go to school.”

“How old is he? Did he drop out?”

“Seventeen. And I don’t think he went to school in the first place.”

Jeremy frowned. This kid’s story was becoming stranger and more confusing the more he heard. Deciding to change the topic to something less troubling, he said, “Do you like soda?”

“Soda?”

“You know. The sweet fizzy stuff?”

“Oh, I’ve never had it. I’m not allowed.”

“Well, I feel like I should give you something for helping me carry my stuff. Want to try some when we get back to my place?

“Really?”

“It’s not that big a deal. C’mon, this is the apartment complex. Let’s go get some.”

                “Okay!” Shiloh’s level of excitement didn’t match the reward, but Jeremy found it endearing. They walked up a few flights of stairs and down the hall, and by the time they reached Jeremy’s door he was winded from the climb. Shiloh, however, was unfazed despite having to carry the bags. As Jeremy stopped to key in his lock code, Shiloh made a strange face at the door.

                “What’s wrong?”

                “Do you have company?”

                “No, why?”

                “I was just wondering. There’s someone in there. I didn’t know if he was your friend or your family or something.”

                “Wait—what?! What do you mean?” After that exclamation, Jeremy put a hand over his mouth and lowered his voice considerably. “You’re telling me that someone’s in my apartment? How do you know?”

                “He’s right behind the door, actually. I figured he was waiting to greet you. I can feel the vibrations he’s making in the floor. And he smells like the disinfectant in hospitals and beef jerky. Definitely a person-smell. Behind him the apartment smells different. Who is he, Jeremy?”

                Jeremy had no time to question. Any other time he would have dismissed Shiloh’s insight and barged in anyway. But right now, it was all too plausible that someone was in there and that they were both in great danger. Jeremy hadn’t expected a home invasion, but now that he thought about it, it was the perfect plan now that Jeremy had been able to evade him for so long. If Shiloh hadn’t clued him in, he would have met his demise the moment he opened his door.

                “We have to get out of here, Shiloh. Come on.” He ushered the boy back down the hall and toward the stairwell. Distressed, the younger of the two craned his neck past Jeremy to look at the groceries they’d discarded. “Your stuff! You’re just going to leave it like that?”

                “We can go get it later. We have to leave now.” Once they were descending the stairwell, he clarified, “That man isn’t in there to greet me.”

                “What’s he there for?”

                Wait, why was he telling this to Shiloh? He was too young to understand. He couldn’t get this kid involved. “…to collect taxes.”

                “You can’t pay your taxes? But you just bought all that food!”

                “I’m…really behind on my taxes. Really, really behind. I’m owe a lot. I can’t pay it right now.”

                “Then why don’t you go in there and tell him you don’t have the money?”

                “Because if he’s broken into my home, he really means business. I might get in trouble with the law.”

                Shiloh’s mouth made a big “O” as he heard this, and the two left the complex. Once they reached the sidewalk, he grabbed one of Jeremy’s hands. Funny how relative danger was. “But what are you gonna do? He’s in your house. That means you can’t go in there.”

                Jeremy took a deep breath. That was a good question. What was he going to do? A good deal of his necessities were in that apartment, and he would need them if he was going to go on the run like he’d originally planned to do once he figured things out. He needed someplace safe to stay. He needed people to rely on. Real people.

                “I need to find a place to hide out for a little while. But I don’t know where. I don’t have any family here. I don’t have any friends, either… Shiloh, you should get going. I need to figure these things out. I have some real grown-up problems to deal with and I don’t want you getting involved.”

                Shiloh angrily puffed out his cheeks, letting go of Jeremy’s hand. “No friends, huh?”

                “No—I mean—yeah, you’re my friend. You’re definitely my friend. I just mean…I need a friend who’d be willing to put me up for a few days. Like a grown-up with a place of his own.”

                “I’m not a grown-up but I’m your friend and I have a home. Why don’t you come stay with me?”

                “I don’t think your mom would be too cool with that, Shiloh… I mean, from what I’ve heard about her so far…”

                “No, you don’t understand! She takes in people down on their luck all the time! We have a guest room in the back of our house. When someone needs a place to stay while they get back up on their feet, she lets them stay there for a few days. Like, people who lost their homes and stuff. You can’t go back to your home, so that means you’re homeless, right? That’s all I have to tell her and she’ll let you stay for sure!”

                Jeremy was skeptical. “For sure?”

                “Yeah. Just let me give her a call.” The young boy reached the small backpack he’d been carrying and found his cell phone—a small, cheap plastic model, most likely bought by his mother for the sole purpose of the two being in touch. Shiloh dialed the number with practiced ease and pressed the phone to his face.

                “Hello?”

                “Hi Mom. Hey…I found another one. Can I bring him home?”

                “You know you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers.”

                “But this guy is my friend. And he doesn’t have a place to stay right now. Can I just bring him over so you can meet him? I promise he’s a good guy.”

                “How old is he?”

                Shiloh moved the phone away from his mouth and looked up at Jeremy. “How old are you?”

                Jeremy, flustered, murmured, “Twenty-five.”

                “Twenty-five, Mom.”

                “What’s a grown man like that doing talking to you?”

                “He’s the man who stuck up for me the other day.”

                “The one who hit Mrs. Romero’s boy?”

                “…yeah. But don’t worry. He only did it to help me. Can I bring him over? Please?”

                “…I suppose. But I don’t want you talking to any more strangers, you hear me? Even if they stick up for you.”

                “Okay, Mom.” Shiloh beamed up at Jeremy after hanging up his phone and putting it away. “You’re good to come over. Just be polite. I’m sure she’ll like you.” Despite these words, Jeremy wasn’t so sure. Staying with someone else right here in Los Angeles definitely wasn’t in the master plan, but perhaps it’d be a good opportunity for him to get his head on straight. Perhaps with a family vouching for him, he’d even get the law on his side and end this before it had to escalate to him fleeing the country. Then Fox would officially be fired, and Jeremy would be able to run the media as he pleased. After this though process completed itself, Jeremy was able to return Shiloh’s enthusiasm. Maybe this little predicament would work itself out after all. Shiloh’s mother couldn’t have been too much of a soccer-mom if she took in homeless people. There was nothing to worry about.

--

                Their house was smaller than Jeremy could have imagined. He was sure that his apartment was bigger than this dilapidated old thing. Shiloh lived in a bad part of town—one of the many “bad parts” that made up the majority of Los Angeles. Jeremy avoided these parts like the plague. This was where some of his more street-wise friends found hook-ups, he imagined. He never knew, being too chicken to ever follow along. The neighborhood reeked of poverty, and sadly enough their house was the nicest looking one in sight. Then again, if only he and his mother and the occasional guest lived there, it didn’t have to be that big. Jeremy was just used to a lot more space. He’d have to get over that, however, if he was going to be taken in by this family’s good will.

                Shiloh fished in his pocket for a key—a real old-fashioned key, made of steel and everything. There was no locking system on a door, no code to memorize… If Shiloh lost that key, he’d be locked out. Jeremy couldn’t imagine the headache that came with keeping track of something so small. The door creaked as Shiloh turned the handle and pushed it open, the hinges crying out for oil. The sound made Jeremy cringe, but he did his best to re-compose himself for the fated meeting with the boy’s mother. He told Jeremy to wait in the hall while he summoned her, and soon came back with the last person he had ever expected to be associated with Shiloh.

                “Vera?”

                “You.” The two stared each other down for a few seconds before the young woman snapped her head down at her son. “This is your friend? How on Earth did that come to be?”

                “What?” Shiloh was startled and panicked, and possibly on the verge of tears from what Jeremy could see. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom! I didn’t know you knew each other!”

                “Didn’t I tell you about that creep at the clinic from the other day? I thought I made it very clear when you asked me how my day was.”

                “I remember that, but—this his him?” Shiloh looked back and forth between his mother and his friend, very confused. “It couldn’t possibly be him! Jeremy’s my best friend! He’s the nicest guy I know! Besides Gene.” Vera was not persuaded. She took a few long strides toward Jeremy, poking a finger at his chest. “What do you want with Shiloh? Why’ve you been talking to him? Are you some kind of pervert?”

                “P-pervert? Why would I even…? Vera, I run into the kid on my way to work. That’s all. He comes up to me and strikes conversation. I can’t just ignore him. Just look at that face!” He gestured to Shiloh, who despite his confusion, was making that stupidly cute face. “It’s hard to explain but I feel like we have a connection.” Shiloh nodded briskly in affirmation. Vera simply rolled her eyes and turned her poke into a flat palm, pushing Jeremy out the door. “You creep. Get out of my house. If I hear about you talking to my son any more, I’ll have you arrested.”

                “No, Vera, you don’t understand—“

                “That’s Dr. Evans to you. I don’t care what your issues are; you’re not bringing them into this house or anywhere near Shiloh. Do you hear me? Get out.”

                “If you shut me out I’m going to be killed.”

                Vera quirked a brow, then after a moment of contemplation, sighed deeply and lowered her hand. The stress was apparent on her face, and Jeremy did feel bad for imposing himself so insistently. He wouldn’t be doing this if he had no other choice. To his relief, she said without making further eye contact, “All right, I’ll humor you. What’s your story?”

                “Fox Campbell hired a hitman to off me and he’s in my home as we speak. I have no possessions on me save for my wallet. I don’t have a plan for the long run but if I don’t act quickly and get to safety, I’m going to be killed.” Jeremy found it easier to explain his story rationally now that he’d had time to think about it. Before Vera could reply, their attention was quickly drawn to a very flustered Shiloh. “You said it was a tax collector!” A pause. “What’s a hitman?” Shaking her head, Vera looked up again, narrowing her eyes at Jeremy. “And why should I believe this tall tale? Hm?”

                “Shiloh was with me when I returned to my apartment. He said that someone was waiting for me inside.”

                “Uh—what?! What was he doing going home with you?”

                “No, no… I know it sounds bad, but he was just helping me carry groceries.” Jeremy slapped his forehead with the palm of his hands, knowing that each word spoken in his defense was also working to dig his grave. Vera quietly murmured, “Is this true, Shi?”

                “Yeah, I promise!”

                “I can show you the receipt, Vera—“

                “No, Shiloh doesn’t lie to me. His word is good enough. So, he said there was someone in your home. Your immediate instinct was not to go to the police, but to ask this boy if he could house you?”

                “The police aren’t on my side. I don’t exactly have a good history with them. They always catch me at my worst…” He scratched the back of his head. “I’d need some very compelling evidence to get them to actually do anything. And Shiloh offered; I didn’t just invite myself.”

                Vera placed a hand on her hip, and with another sigh, she turned her back to her visitor and her son. “I need time to think about this…”

                “Please let him stay, Mom. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He doesn’t have any family and I’m his only friend.” Jeremy cringed as Shiloh attempted to speak up in his defense. This situation was only growing more and more pathetic. Jeremy wasn’t about to beg on his own behalf, but if he was turned away, he had no chance. It all rode on Shiloh’s ability to manipulate the circumstances.

                Vera turned around and took a deep breath. Shiloh and Jeremy exchanged glances as an excruciating period of waiting passed. When she finally turned around, she said, “I don’t put guests up for free. You’ll have to earn the time you need through work. I can probably train you  to do basic tasks at the clinic. Book keeping, all that. But I don’t want you staying for more than a month—I don’t allow any boarder any more than that, and I won’t change the rules for you. Does that sound fair? If not, you’re on your own.”

                Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. The idea of working in a hospital with sick poor people was far less than appealing. “I already have a job, though…”

                “When I talked to Fox, he said you hardly even show up. I think you have more than enough time to commit to the clinic.”

                “What if I pay rent instead?”

                “Is the idea of doing work really so unappealing to you?”

                “I can pay however much you want. I inherited a lot from my dad. I have plenty.”

                Shiloh began to jump up and down impatiently. “We need money at the clinic!”

                The same thought process began to click into motion in Vera’s head, and it became apparent through the brightening of her expression. “How much are we talking? You didn’t give a number.”

                “I do mean however much you want. If I rent out a new place under my name and my credit, I can be tracked. I need to lay low right now. No one would ever expect to find me here, you know? You hate me, so it’s the perfect cover. For that I’m willing to pay whatever.”

                “Ugh.” Vera ran her fingers through her hair and slumped over, obviously distressed. “I really, really want a reason to say no to you. You can stay for now, and I’ll talk about what you could pay with Gene tomorrow. Does that sound fair?” She slowly unwound her fingers and looked up, refusing to smile at Jeremy despite the chance he presented to save the Mercy Clinic. Shiloh continued jumping up and down, excited beyond all belief. With a half-smirk, Jeremy nodded his head. “I think we have a deal.”

                Vera, not missing a beat, told Shiloh to show Jeremy his room and disappeared into her own bedroom to think things through.

                “This way, Jeremy. Your room is across from mine!” Judging by the boy’s excitement, this was easily the best day in his entire life. He already had a brother; why was this such a big deal?

Jeremy had a feeling that he was in for a long stay, despite Vera’s discouraging attitude. After being shown his room, where he would have put down his belongings in the event that he had any, Jeremy was given the tour of the small house. Despite its size and outward appearance, it was quite comfortable on the inside, and well-kept. In passing, Jeremy noticed a list on a whiteboard posted on the refrigerator containing Shiloh’s chores for the week—the kid had a lot on his plate, and he appeared to be very obedient, which was probably why the place looked so nice. Jeremy imagined that Vera was too busy with work at the clinic to take on the role of a homemaker. From what he gathered, it was just the two of them that lived here. He vaguely wondered what their story was, but knew that it wouldn’t be his place to ask until he was on better terms with the young doctor.

                After a short period of time, she rejoined the two boys, and immediately confronted Jeremy with a thought that had apparently occurred to her after she had agreed to let him stay.

                “What if you put us in danger? If this hitman is trailing you, who’s to say he won’t come back here?”

                Jeremy shrugged, obviously not as concerned about it as she was. “First off, I don’t even think he can track me unless he finds me in public and starts to follow me. Fox used to pinpoint my location by tracking my cell phone, but I broke it a while back. I’ve been roughing it without one for over a week.” He grinned with a misplaced sense of pride. “Second…would he really kill anyone other than who he was hired to off? I mean, that’d be doing extra work, and Fox only hired him for me. What would be the point?”

                Vera shook her head. “You’re too naïve. Regardless of whether or not he was paid to kill additional people, he might hurt us in the process. Ever think about that?” At this thought, Jeremy shrunk back. He really didn’t know what to say to that. This was a sticky situation no matter which way he approached it. Perhaps it would have been best if he had just fled the area in the first place.

                “Why don’t we just tell Amanitas and have him take care of it?” Shiloh chirped. His mother scowled and rose her hand to smack him upside the head, but stopped herself. “You know better than that, Shiloh. I don’t want you talking like that ever again. You get those ideas out of that head of yours, you hear me?”

                “But he’s trying to kill Jeremy!”

                “I said stop with that. Under no circumstances should you ever—“ Vera stopped short as Jeremy interrupted with a raised hand. “What?”

                “What are we talking about?”

                “It’s none of your business. And don’t interrupt,” she almost spat. “We’ll figure something out, but neither of you are contacting Amanitas about this, okay? Not a word.” Shiloh frowned and hung his head. “Sorry, Mom… I was only trying to help.”

                “You can help by washing your hands and getting dinner started.”

                “Yes’m.”

                Vera looked up at Jeremy and jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. “You too. I know how you feel about work but everyone in this house has to do chores. No exceptions.” Jeremy merely shrugged and followed behind Shiloh, disdainful of the reputation he’d already earned himself. Vera disappeared into her bedroom once more to make a phone call, and the two began talking once more.

                “So what were you guys talking about, anyway? What’s your brother got to do with any of this?”

                Shiloh kept his eyes forward as he scrubbed his hands pink. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

                “Not even a hint?”

                “Let’s just say that I have to follow Mom’s rules and Amanitas doesn’t.”

                That didn’t really clear anything up, but Jeremy decided not to pursue it as he took his turn at the sink. Shiloh began gathering the ingredients with a familiarity that was odd for a third grader. He certainly was mature for his age, and very cooperative. Jeremy recalled that he rarely emerged from his bedroom when he was eight years old, let alone respond to his father. There was something admirable in Shiloh’s dedication to following the rules and being a good kid. Jeremy could appreciate his determination.

                When the three finally sat down for dinner, a stifling silence settled in the household. Vera refused to look up at Jeremy, and Shiloh kept his mouth shut in fear of sparking another heated argument. Nonetheless, there was something appealing in eating with other people; Jeremy rarely had the chance unless he was out with acquaintances for the night. And that never meant anything. The fact that he and Shiloh had actually put forth the effort to prepare the food from scratch was rewarding on another level. The two had collaborated quite well and had the meal prepared before Vera had even expected it.

                Realizing that he was walking on eggshells at this point, Jeremy volunteered to rinse the dishes and put them through the machine after they finished eating. At the very least, his offer broke the silence. Vera stood to help him and dismissed Shiloh to his room to complete his homework. Suddenly feeling the need to test the waters, Jeremy started on a new topic as he picked up two of the plates from the table.

                “So, what’s the story with you and Shiloh? And Amanitas? Were you married?”

                “That’s an awfully personal question,” Vera replied with a smirk. She looked exhausted, but appeared to be in a better mood now. Much to Jeremy’s surprise, she proceeded to answer. “I was never married. And I didn’t conceive Shiloh; he was adopted. Amanitas ended up with another…family,” she paused on that word, as if she was using the term loosely. “…but the two have always been in close contact.” The doctor rolled her shoulders before continuing to run the food-specked dishes under the stream of water. “It was kind of a sudden decision, but I felt like I needed to do it. I needed the company and there’s no shortage of homeless kids ever since Roe v. Wade was overturned. I officially gained custody five years ago, but I’ve known him since he was a baby. He really is a charming boy. I’m sort of glad I broke from the norm… You rarely hear of single women adopting, so it felt good to be that one who didn’t need a husband, you know? It’s nice, just the two of us.”

                The story suited the small family; Jeremy had no trouble picturing it. “What did you do before you opened the clinic?”

                Startlingly, Vera cringed as if she were both expecting the question and hoping that it wouldn’t come up. Jeremy threw his pruning hands up, shaking his head. “Should I not have asked? I’m sorry.”

                “No, no. I just have a kink in my neck.” She rubbed the back of it with her hand, and tried to replicate the facial expression. “I finished med school just about a year before I came down here with Shiloh and opened up the clinic. I worked odd jobs in different hospitals to pay for it, but truth be told I’m still in debt.” She laughed softly. “But I don’t mind. I feel better doing this than being one of those hot-shots who make six figures, you know? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I made it just about the money. I figured opening a low-income clinic would be the only way I’d be certain I was helping people for the sake of helping people. I guess it’s costly, but we’re getting by. I make sure Shiloh has everything he needs first and foremost.”

                “He really is a great kid.”

                “He likes you a lot, you know. He’s spent the past week blabbering on about how he has a new best friend and how he’s the coolest guy ever. I mean, I guess I’d feel that way if someone punched the lights out of my bully.” She laughed as Jeremy groaned.

                “I really didn’t mean for it to happen that way. Honest. He just wouldn’t let up. Why don’t you let Shiloh hit back, anyway? He said that there’s no circumstance where it’s acceptable. Is that really true? Did you tell him that?”

                Vera selected the appropriate cleaning cycle on the dishwasher before turning her back to it and leaning up against it, folding her arms across her chest. “Yeah, what’s it to you? If I tell him to stick up for himself with his fists he’s going to turn into grow into one of those overaggressive macho men who can’t get a single point across with words. If he learns to use his words effectively, he’s going to become an effective adult. Simple as that. If that means that he gets a few black eyes, so be it. There’s no shame in that.”

                “I guess I can see the values that’d come from that… But it still bothers me. Shiloh’s a strong kid, physically. He shouldn’t have to deal with people picking on him just ‘cause he’s a little short and looks like he could be an easy victim. Remember how I told you he helped with my groceries? He insisted on carrying all of them, and did it without any effort. The way I see it…one good hit on that big kid’s face and no one’s ever gonna mess with him again. Then he can start using his words.”

                “I appreciate the advice, but I can raise my kid without it. We need to change our thinking if Shiloh’s generation is going to be any smarter about things than this one.”

                Jeremy shrugged. “How about Amanitas? Is he a good influence?”

                “Jeremy, I think it’s best that you don’t talk to Amanitas. At all.”

                “Why?”

                “I don’t want you getting mixed up with him. I know he’s only a teenager, but he terrifies me. He’s fallen in with the wrong crowd, and…well, he’s not doing too well. I can’t do much about Shiloh wanting to see him, but it’d be a real bad thing if you got on his bad side.”

                Jeremy didn’t really have anything to say in response, and by that time the dishwasher beeped, indicating that it had finished. He shooed Vera out of the way as he stooped to unload it, knowing that she was tired enough.

                “It’s going to take a little more than that to get me to like you.”

                “Well, I’m already here, aren’t I? I had to have made some progress.”

                “I don’t forgive you for what you did the other day, but…I guess you’re just too dumb to know any better. Can’t blame you if you’re not the real problem, can I?”

                “About that…”

                “No, Jeremy, let’s just not talk about that. I’d rather not pick that argument up where it left off. Not tonight…”

                “Alright. I am sorry, though.”

                “You’re sorry but that doesn’t change what happened. Everything under this roof is earned—including forgiveness. You want it, you gotta work for it.”

                “Fair enough. I hopefully won’t be in your hair for too long. I just need a place to stay while I figure out how I’m going to get out of here for good. It’s not something you can exactly decide overnight. And Vera?”

                “Yeah?”                 “If that hitman follows me or comes around… If he comes to you, just turn me in. Okay?”

                Vera laughed, trying to dismiss the situation like it would never happen. Jeremy knew that it could, however,

                “Good night, Jeremy.”

                She disappeared into her son’s room to check on the status of his homework, and Jeremy took that as his cue to return to his own. A few minutes later, Vera peeked her head into his room.

                “Just…another thought. I want you to come to the clinic with me tomorrow morning. Not going to make you work, but I want to check something.”

                Jeremy eyed her with suspicion.

                “I mean straight to the clinic. No stops.”

                “What’s this all about?”

                Vera shook her head and bid him a quiet good night, closing the door behind her.

--

                Jeremy accompanied Vera to the clinic the next morning as promised, although he grumbled the whole way. He had a killer headache, but he chocked that up to a lack of sleep and his agitation from this whole fiasco. They spoke very little, and when they arrived Vera murmured something to Gene in private and then led Jeremy to an empty part of the lobby waiting area.

                “Wait here. I have to see some patients.”

                “Why am I waiting here, again?”

                “I just want to check you out. See if you’re healthy. Can’t have Shiloh getting sick. Here’s a bottle of water, and there are some magazines on the coffee table.”

                “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

                Vera smiled and shook her head, much like she had the previous night, and disappeared behind the desk and into one of the examination rooms. A patient was called in by the receptionist shortly after.

                By the time the first hour rolled by, Jeremy had blown through a magazine cover to cover and now his eyes had trouble focusing. No matter which position on the chair he took, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable chair, but he was aching from it, and no stretching could alleviate it. By this point, some of the patients in the lobby had taken notice. He didn’t want to draw so much attention to himself, but he was feeling so miserable. The next time Gene appeared, he asked for another bottle of water.

                By the passing of the third hour (and still no sign of Vera), Jeremy noticed his hands trembling. Why was he even waiting this long? If she wanted to have a look at him, she could have done it at home. There were so many other things he could have been doing—like going to work. He laughed aloud at that thought. No, he just wanted to be away from here. Back with his friends, living it up. Ever since his father died, Jeremy had discovered this unbelievable freedom. No accountability—Fox certainly wasn’t the boss of him—and no obligations. His parties probably ran on the excessive side, but it wasn’t like he was wanting for money. As long as no one else was getting hurt, he never saw a problem in it.

                Yeah, a drink with his friends sounded really good right now. A drink, and then… Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what he was craving. And the more he thought about it, he realized that this was what this sit-in was all about. It hadn’t been all that long, though. Not even a day. Why was he freaking out like this?

                This probably meant that Vera wanted him to be stone-cold sober while he lived with her. This was definitely a statement. Would he be able to manage? Probably not. He felt like he was going to throw up. Maybe this whole arrangement wasn’t worth it. He’d probably be better off renting another place. Maybe hiding with some friends. Friends with hook-ups. That sounded so much more appealing. This idea was half-baked to begin with.

                As Jeremy stood up to leave, Vera opened the door to the examination room, dismissing a patient. Without any sense of urgency, she called his name next. He chomped down on his lower lip.

                “Wanna come back here with me?”

                Jeremy resisted the urge to shake his head. Maybe he could explain things calmly when they were in private. He just really needed to leave.

                The moment he stepped into the examination room, Jeremy grabbed the small waste basket and disposed of last night’s dinner. Vera watched from a distance, her arms folded like this was the most casual meeting in the world. Jeremy looked up at her wide-eyed, like a cornered animal about to be kicked.

                “I’m afraid there’s no easy way to do this.”

                “Do what?”

                “I think you have an idea right about now.”

                Jeremy dry-heaved again.

                “Take your time.”

                It took him a few moments to compose himself, but when he did, he sat up on the examination table and swung his legs back and forth like a small child. He just couldn’t sit still.

                “Jeremy, you need to get this out of your system. It might take a few days, but I know you can do this.”

                “But why?” His voice was now hoarse, and with the added element of desperation, he fit the profile of the common addict.

                “Besides the obvious?” Vera laughed. “I can’t have you doing any of this stuff while you’re living with me. I can’t turn a blind eye to it while my son’s in the house. I am taking a huge risk, letting you in like this. The only thing keeping me from getting a restraining order is the fact that we need you to keep the clinic afloat. Not only do you have a man after your life, but you have the potential to screw up Shiloh’s.”

                “I don’t know what—“

                “What if he found something? Got curious? Got ideas? He looks up to you—more than you probably think. What if he catches you doing something really bad? What’s he going to think?”

                “I don’t know if I can…”

                “Look, it’s going to be rough. I know. The doctor part of me really wants to see you through this. If you keep on this trajectory you’re going to die in a matter of years.”

                Jeremy went quiet. He hadn’t thought about death so much, not before this whole hitman ordeal. Now that he thought about it, Fox didn’t really need to pay someone like that.

                “The weekend’s coming up. I’m going to be busy, but I’m going to have Shiloh keep an eye on you. You aren’t to leave the house for any reason. Any slip-ups and you get the boot. Okay?”

                Jeremy slowly nodded. He didn’t feel any better that day.

--

He began his weekend under house arrest—as he called it—after a nearly sleepless night. He was too agitated to lie still, despite the fact that he was aching to the very bone and his entire body cried out for rest. The other two in the house soundly, judging by the silence. Jeremy was tempted beyond any sane logic to sneak out, but part of him at this point wanted to prove to himself that he didn’t have a problem. The denial was classic—clichéd, even—but he was convinced that he’d never really gone overboard. Everyone got together with friends, everyone let loose every once in a while. It was a part of being young. Jeremy was under a lot of stress on a regular basis, and Fox didn’t make things any easier. He needed to unwind every once in a while. Everyone did.

It was well into the wee hours that Jeremy decided to try and stop forcing rest. He turned on the light and took a moment to take in his surroundings, which he hadn’t really bothered to look at before. It certainly was…a peculiar room to house guests in. There were no pictures or decorations on the wall; it was literally plastered from wall to wall with newspapers. Real ones; the kind that hadn’t been around for decades.

From an artistic standpoint, Jeremy supposed that it could have been a decent choice of décor, but in reality it just looked odd. Eccentric. He stood to get a better look at some of them, wondering what the date was. They were all pretty recent.

                The byline before each of the articles he could make out was what really struck him. Jonah Malone had been dead for almost ten years now. Vera was hoarding copies of the last running newspaper before their extinction, started and run by Jeremy’s grandfather. She’d come off as a little eccentric, but not this outright strange. Everyone had a hobby, he supposed, but this was borderline obsessive. In any case, the reading material helped calm him down.

--

                “We should play a board game.”

                Shiloh peered down at where Jeremy had stationed himself on the couch. He was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes half-lidded, almost entirely convinced that he had died sometime between nine and eleven that morning.

“No.”

“Cards?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong? Mom says you’re sick.”

“Then I’m sick.”

The boy twisted his mouth, apparently not content with that answer. In any case, he was concerned. He disappeared into the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass of water. Jeremy whined for a moment before accepting it. He wasn’t quite sure what he could keep down at the moment.

“Let’s just watch some TV.”

“We can’t. Only when Mom’s home.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t like me watching it without her there. Says it’s a lot of ANC garbage. And stuff.”

Jeremy snorted. It was true that the ANC broadcasted most of the programming, but it was public TV. There was only so much their censors could water down. Then again, Jeremy didn’t spend a whole lot of time in that department.

Noon came and went, and Jeremy only grew more restless. He was tired from the previous night, but the agitation which had kept him up then was making him anxious now. Shiloh’s voice was like nails on a chalk board, and he just wouldn’t go away. Jeremy liked talking to him back when they only met in passing, but now… Now it was like he had a kid of his own. Let’s play this. Let’s do that. Vera was a sick and twisted woman—of that much Jeremy was certain. At this point even Fox seemed more benevolent.

“I’m dying, Shiloh.”

“You don’t look like you’re dying.”

“I want to die.”

Shiloh eventually grew tired of Jeremy’s whining (after remaining vigilant by his side for hours, to his credit), and secluded himself in his room until his mother came home. Several times Jeremy had his hand on the front door, ready to leave, but he had to prove Vera wrong. He didn’t have a problem. He led a very casual social life, and happened to know how to have a good time. All of this was just a minor incident, something caused by the stress of the hitman and the sudden change of his environment. As soon as he got his wits about him, he’d be fine. That was what this new living arrangement was all about.

“I have a problem,” was the first thing Jeremy blurted to Vera when she finally came home. She gave him her best sympathetic look and then told him to help her put away the groceries.

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Four

                That’s what Jeremy told himself as he drunk himself into a stupor that night. With no cell phone, he couldn’t be summoned by Fox for the verbal beating he knew he would eventually have to face. He could seclude himself in his apartment and emerge whenever he felt like showing his shamed face in public again. As far as he knew, the story of that day would never cease to be the talk of Los Angeles, and quite possibly the entire nation.

                The hitman didn’t show up that night to be his angel of mercy. Nor did he show up the next night. Jeremy remained secluded in his apartment for forty-eight hours before re-joining the world of the living, and not once did anyone come by. He wore sunglasses and an out-of-place cowboy hat when he ventured outside, horribly hung over and not too keen on being recognized at that moment. But he still heard the hushed gossip. The only way he’d have any sort of anonymity was if he cut that hair of his. That, however, was out of the question.

                Shiloh startled him once again that morning, this time perched on top of the fence that surrounded his school. His shoes lay discarded on the sidewalk and his bare feet were dangling beside Jeremy’s head as he passed. The CEO didn’t even notice the boy until he spoke up.

                “Good morning! Why’re you wearing that funny hat?”

                “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

                “It’s Saturday, silly.”

                Jeremy looked around, neglecting to take off his sunglasses. “Then why are you at school?”

                “You pass by here on your way to…wherever it is you go. Work? I have nothing better to do so I wait for you here.”

                “I haven’t been to work in days.”

                “I know.” Shiloh looked down. “It was pretty boring. But I like watching the people. And no one’s told me I can’t hang out here yet. The weather’s nice, too.”

                Jeremy had no way of knowing Shiloh had been waiting for him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a little guilty. “You shouldn’t waste your time like that. It’s Saturday, you should be out having fun. Fun isn’t waiting to see this loser in passing.”

                “Why do you say that?”

                “Don’t you like any sports?”

                “No, I mean the part about you being a loser. I don’t think you’re a loser. You stuck up for me!”

                “Anyone would have done that. Trust me, I’m not someone you want to identify with. Go make some friends who are more worth your time.”

                Shiloh twisted his mouth. “Everyone in my class thinks I’m weird.”

                Jeremy laughed in response. “That’s because you don’t take care of your crazy hair. If you’re gonna grow it long, you have to make sure it’s taken care of. Otherwise, what’s the point?” He took off the cowboy hat, and despite his hat-hair, the blonde locks glistened in the morning sun. Not a hair was out of place, even with Jeremy in this disoriented state.

                “But you just tie it up. That’s boring.”

                “And you look like Tarzan.”

                Shiloh jumped down with cat-like grace, his bare feet barely making a sound as they hit the cracked pavement. “I do not. I just like it long. Mom doesn’t make me cut it very often so I just…don’t.”

                “You still have to take care of it.” Jeremy put his hat back on before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, buddy, I really have to get to work now. I have some things I’ve been putting off that I need to take care of ASAP.”

                “What’s ASAP? Can I come with you?”

                “What? Why would you want to come to work with me? It’s Saturday. Go play, you crazy kid.”

                “Where do you work? Maybe I can help!”

                Jeremy, thinking of the coming storm that was his confrontation with Fox, smiled cynically and shook his head. “No, you can’t help with this kind of work. I work over at the American News Corporation. ANC.”

                “American News Corporation, your only source for the latest breaking news,” Shiloh said. Jeremy simply laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

                “That’s so cool! Do you get to be on TV?”

                “No. I work behind a desk. It’s more boring than school, I promise.”

                “Mom says that there used to be other news companies. Why is there only ANC now?”

                “The others went out of business.”

                “Why?”

                “I bet you drive your teachers crazy with all your questions, Shiloh. Are you ever gonna let me go?”

                “Can I come? Please?”

                “Today I have to take care of some things that I’d rather you…not see.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “I’m gonna get yelled at.”

                Shiloh nodded wisely. “Ohhhh. I get it. Okay. Can I come some other time though?”

                “Sure.”

                “Promise?”                 “Yeah.”

                “Pinky swear?”

                “What?”

                Shiloh held out his pinky with a stern expression that struck him as oddly familiar. With a sigh, Jeremy hooked his own pinky in and the two shook to their agreement. As he parted ways with Shiloh, he realized he was once again turning his back on the only person who genuinely desired his presence.

--

                “You know, Jeremy, I’m not going to ask what possessed you to go down there. I’m not even going to ask why you thought you could come off as anything but a jackass on camera. You don’t just waltz into places like that expecting those people to think and reason like rational human beings. They don’t use logic like we do.” Fox tapped his forehead, failing to look up over the glowing touch-screen of his tablet. Only Fox could make appointments and berate a man to death at the same time. “But that’s beside the point. You’ve managed to tarnish your public image in the space of an hour. I do believe that’s a new record, Jeremy. I hope you’re proud.”

                “You’re not as…wound up as I thought you’d be, Fox.” Jeremy smiled nervously.

                “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? Hoping that I’d rage myself into incapacitation?”

                “I think you’ve lost it, Fox.”

                “Your mistake was thinking that I was as stupid as you.” The news anchor reached into his pocket and produced a small bottle of pills. “As long as I’m taking these, I’m just fine and dandy.” He turned the bottle in his fingers for a few moments before placing it back into his pocket. “Modern medicine is a wonder, isn’t it?”

                Jeremy rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “You have no idea why I went. I’m more complex than you think. Maybe I have interests outside of managing this stupid corporation.”

                “The way I see it, you either went to piss me off or you went to see the pretty doctor. That’s about as deep as you get, Jeremy.”

                “Maybe I wanted to report on something again. Maybe I wanted to take part in actual journalism for the first time since Rodney dragged me out of it.”

                “You’re no journalist. You don’t know the first thing about it.”

                “What, and you do? All you do is spout off your opinion. You’re not informing the public of anything. You’re just telling them what to think about things.”

                “This is America, Jeremy. The people can choose whether or not to heed my wisdom. And you’re one to talk about throwing around opinions—you got slapped doing just that, you dumbass.”

                “The people don’t have a choice. You’re the only face they see on TV.”

                “What, feeling socially responsible all of the sudden? Sorry to say, but you’re a little too late. You can’t do shit when everyone hates you. All you can do is what I tell you to do. That’s how it’s going to be until I retire or you die.”

                “Or you die.”

                “Oh, Jeremy, I highly doubt that’s going to happen any time soon.”

                “Who knows, Fox? You have more enemies than I do. Maybe someone will pay to have it done.”

                “Well, you’d better hurry up with that, because the man I hired works quickly.”

                Jeremy sputtered. “Did you just—“

                “So? So what? Where’s your proof? By the time you actually get something together to take to the police—something that won’t get you laughed at—you’ll have a bullet lodged in your skull.” Fox began to laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve got no hope. If I were you I’d either get your affairs in order or flee the country. You do have a chance if you do the latter—it costs extra for him to chase you across the border and I don’t plan to pay him for it. As long as you distance yourself he won’t go after you.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can go find some hippie friends and change the world. I’ve just opened up a world of possibilities for you.”

                Jeremy turned his back to Fox, at a loss of words. The news anchor continued speaking, but Jeremy didn’t hear any more of it. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t find the strength to move from his spot. There had to be something he could do. There was no way he was trapped. He was one of the most powerful men in the world—he owned the only news corporation, for Christ’s sake! But no matter which way he thought about it, there was no way out. He was going to have to high-tail it and leave as quickly as possible if he was going to see the passing of the new year. His chest heaved as he descended into panic, but after a few minutes, he managed to calm himself down enough to speak.

                “You’re going to regret this Fox.” Jeremy didn’t know exactly how as of that moment, but he was going to make it true. “You’re going to regret ever tangling with me. This is war.”

                Fox covered his face in his hands and erupted into a wheezy fit of laughs. He never did say anything in response; he simply laughed until Jeremy got fed up and left the office. He spat defiantly once he was outside the door. Let him laugh. It was all going to catch up with him eventually. Jeremy Malone was a force to be reckoned with.

--

                He didn’t try and conceal his identity on the way home. Despite it being November, the sun was still unrelenting and it was too hot to wear a hat. The walk home was surreal. The feeling of empowerment was beginning to wear off, and it left Jeremy shaken and paranoid. He tried his best to keep his concentration on the sidewalk before him, to keep his gait straight and his pace steady, but he found that it was difficult to keep his balance. He needed the alcohol to wear off. He needed to sleep. He needed to find safety.  

                Shiloh wasn’t outside of the school. It seemed that he’d moved on. Good for him. It wasn’t healthy to wait so long for someone who wasn’t worth anything. The boy soon appeared in the distance, however. On the other side of the street, he was wrapped up in talking to an older boy—a teenager, from the looks of it. He had the same sandy, curly hair and the same splash of freckles on his face. Jeremy slowed his gait as he observed the two; Shiloh didn’t seem aware of his presence, and Jeremy wasn’t about to call attention to himself. The two were laughing together, obviously having a good conversation, but the older boy’s voice sounded strained. All of the sudden, the teenager snapped his head up at Jeremy, who immediately looked back down at the pavement. Caught staring. How embarrassing. In his hurry to get away, he didn’t notice Shiloh waving enthusiastically at him. That had probably been Shiloh’s older brother he’d spoken about on the day that they met. Jeremy didn’t spend too much time on that thought before his mind changed gears.

                There was no place to go besides home, but home wasn’t safe. He had no choice, really, unless he wanted to inhabit someone else’s apartment at a party. But at a party he’d inevitably let down his defenses. That wouldn’t be good. For now, he had to be as sober as humanly possible. He couldn’t afford the failure of his alertness.

                “Heh,” he thought aloud. This was the first time that attending a party wasn’t the more appealing option in an internal dispute.

                So Jeremy returned home and locked himself inside. He got on his computer to check his messages, but despite his lack of a cell phone, no one had really tried to contact him. He thought briefly about sending a nasty email to Fox, but that wouldn’t have done him a lot of good. His thoughts then turned to Vera, for whatever reason. He pulled up the Mercy Clinic’s webpage, and sure enough her email was at the very bottom of the front page, but he had no idea how he’d go about verbalizing the thoughts that were running through his mind. He was sorry in a way that didn’t include the desire to take back his statements. Jeremy believed what he believed, but he was perceptive enough to understand that he’d acted stupidly at the clinic. No apology would be accepted, however, and he knew that. An anonymous donation also crossed his mind, but that was pointless too, as the place was going to be closed down without a steady source of funds anyway. He’d really screwed them, hadn’t he? The realization of this made the uneasiness in his gut increase tenfold. Vera had a very impractical way of viewing the world, but all she wanted to do was help.

Forgetting his paranoia for the day, he eventually fell asleep at his desk. 

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Three

                His phone rang almost as soon as he sat down at his desk.

                “Hello?”

                “Is this ANC?”

                “Yes, you’re speaking to Fox Campbell. How can I help you?” He drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently. It was a woman on the other line. Probably another one with some complaint about some story that offended her in some way. Always so obnoxious.

                “Oh. Well. Do you think I could speak to the CEO? Malone, I think his name is?”

                “I field all calls for Malone. Care to discuss your business with me?”

                “I need to speak with him directly.”

                Fox rolled his eyes. Jeremy probably got her pregnant during some party. It seemed as though more cover-ups would be in order. “He’s not in. Can I take a message?”

                “…no, I’d really rather speak with him personally. Can I have his cell number?”

                Fox smirked cynically. “I’d have no objections giving it to you, but it’s broken and he’s still in the process of replacing it.” 

                “Well, then. Office number?”

                “That I can give to you, but he’s only in his office for about a half hour a day on average, and at entirely random times. Very busy, you see. Your chances of reaching him directly are extremely low.”

                “I’ll just leave a message on the machine. Just give me the number.” A pause. “Please.”

                Fox spouted off the number from memory before promptly saying his goodbyes and getting the nuisance off the phone. “Jeremy, if you got her pregnant, I’m going to call him off and kill you myself.”

--

                That night was sleepless. Jeremy had no firearms, but he did have an assortment of expensive kitchen knives which were a Christmas gift from…some coworker, he couldn’t remember. He camped out in his entry hallway, a few open cans of soup and bottles of water scattered about. No one attempted an entry into his home that night, but he had the creeping suspicion that he wasn’t out of the woods in terms of a home invasion yet. Time would tell, but hopefully he’d be able to sleep at least a little bit in the meantime.

                When he next came to, the light was shining through the cracks of the closed blinds, and he found that he’d passed out for about two and a half hours, and decided to venture to the safety of his office to recoup the remainder of that night’s rest. There was a comfy couch for visitors; it would have to do. Once he arrived, he fell backwards onto it, using his jacket as a blanket and his arms as a pillow. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang, and the sound was grating to his ears. He let it ring for what seemed like an eternity before it skipped to the machine, which played aloud, much to his dismay. “I hate you, Fox. I hate you so much.”

                It wasn’t Fox. “Hello. I hope I have the right number. Is this the office of Jeremy Malone? If it is, I have a proposition for you. Oh! Forgive me. My name is Vera Evans. I run the Mercy Clinic in downtown LA. I was hoping that you could come by for a tour, and maybe make a special report on the place. It’s losing favor of the local government, and we’ll be in big trouble if we don’t get some positive publicity fast. I know this is a lot to ask, but there are a lot of people depending on this service and we really need to keep it afloat. If you could just come by, and maybe do a quick segment on TV—you can bring cameras to the clinic! It would…it would just help so much. Please. Call me back. Thank you. Goodbye.”

                Jeremy moaned. “I don’t wanna.” He allowed the drowsiness to take hold of him once more, but just before sleep finally claimed him, it occurred to him that nothing would piss Fox off more than him going out of the blue to this clinic and pretending that he’d taken on a new cause. Fox couldn’t stand places like these—ones that gave extra help to poor people. Just him going would be enough—hopefully—to make the old man keel over and get the hitman off his back by default. Flawless. Before finally going to sleep for that day, he gave Vera a quick call back and told her that he was coming that very next day, with a camera crew and everything. She was overjoyed, but Jeremy could really care less. As long as this visit held its desired effect, he didn’t care what it entailed.

--

                The assembled camera crew was less than willing to accompany Jeremy at such short notice, but he had at least some sway as their boss. Nobody seemed to think that the effort was worth it. Jeremy had no real interest in the actual cause either, but he didn’t play it off that way. If anyone knew that it was just some stunt to piss off Fox, they wouldn’t be so compliant. Operations like Dr. Evans’ were questionable in this day and age. There had to be people who relied upon them, but if they did, they didn’t admit it. Jeremy was frankly surprised that the place even existed.

                The plan was for Jeremy to show up ahead of time to make sure the clinic was ready for the cameras while the rest of the crew got ready for the segment. In previous years, Jeremy dabbled in reporting himself, and found that he liked being on the scene and delivering the news. It beat office work by a long shot. As soon as he’d discovered it as his niche, however, his father yanked him out of it in order to redirect his focus to management. Why Rodney decided to keep Jeremy in his will was beyond him—he didn’t even want the position—but he suspected some underlying animosity with Fox. They always seemed like good friends, even behind the scenes, but Jeremy couldn’t shake the feeling that the news anchor’s hatred of him had sources over which he had no control.

Today, he would go back to being a reporter, and would hopefully be able to use the controversial nature of the subject to his advantage. This was Jeremy’s corporation, not Fox’s. Here he’d be making a statement, even if he had no particular interest in the cause.

                Jeremy passed the elementary school on his way to the clinic, but Shiloh wasn’t around to surprise him like he had twice yesterday. He paused before the building, gazing at its doors before continuing on his way.

                A tall man in scrubs greeted him outside of the clinic. He shook Jeremy’s hand eagerly, introducing himself as Eugene but insisting that he called him “Gene.” Jeremy put on his best fake smile, moving through the formalities with ease just as he’d done ever since he was old enough to speak proper English.

                “It means a whole lot that you came. I’m a volunteer here. It’s such a good cause. We help all kinds of people. They’re really good people.”

                “I’m sure they are. The camera crew is on their way, they should be here within the hour.”

                “Want a tour, in the meantime?”

                Jeremy nodded, and he was led in. As soon as he emerged through the entrance, a young woman came running at him, grabbing his hand in both of hers. “Jeremy Malone? Thank you so much for coming! It really does mean so much.” She turned to the scattered group in the waiting room, smiling widely. “This is him, guys. This man is going to save the clinic.”

                Most of the people she’d addressed waved at Jeremy, while others remained oblivious. But Jeremy didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at the woman who was still holding his hand in one of hers. She was a brunette; he liked those. She was wearing scrub pants with a dress shirt on top. She had a very down-to-earth feel about her, and although she looked like she was a lot older than Jeremy, she was pretty easy on the eyes. So he stood there, smiling stupidly. When she turned back to him, she pulled her hand away (much to his dismay) and ran it through her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even say—I’m Vera, the one you talked to on the phone. I run this clinic, but I definitely don’t do it by myself. I only have a few volunteers these days, but they’re very dedicated and hard-working.”

                Jeremy nodded in a half-interested manner, the stupid smile still on his face. If his mouth betrayed even one of the thoughts which were swarming through his head at the moment, he’d be kicked out in a heartbeat. Probably with a restraining order.

                “Well, want me to show you the place while we wait for your crew?”

                “Sure.” Jeremy looked around for the first time as Vera led him down a narrow hallway, and for a brief moment he was able to observe the patients in the waiting room. They were…diverse, to say the least. A young mother was trying to keep her three small children in line. A young man a few seats down was rocking back and forth in his seat, eyes wide looking slightly upset. The guy closest to him reeked of something he couldn’t even describe. The unsavory crowd was beginning to make Jeremy uncomfortable. He made sure to follow close behind Vera.

                “This is one of the two examination rooms. I know it’s cramped, but we didn’t have a lot of starting capital. Had to get a small building.” Jeremy poked into the room at which Vera was gesturing, and gave a sour expression. It wasn’t just cramped; it looked like a bathroom. He was surprised that two people could even conduct business in such a place. His claustrophobia was beginning to kick in, so he stepped out quickly and gave a sharp nod of approval. “Seems like you’re making due, though.”

                “Oh, we are. The wait is a little long, but we’re doing the best we can to serve everyone. In any case, the patients are grateful.”

                “It’s not like they can complain, though, huh?” Jeremy snorted.

                “Excuse me?”

                “Well, they’re getting all of this for free, practically, aren’t they? You can’t complain about a free service.”

                “I never said anything about the patients complaining. I just said that they’re very grateful.”

                “Well, yeah. It was just a…” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably under Vera’s critical gaze. “Oh, what’s that?” He quickly pointed across the hall to the next room.

                “That’s the other examination room. We can’t go inside; one of the volunteers is seeing a patient.”

                “So it’s all volunteers who work here? They’ve been through school and everything?”

                “Oh, of course. We wouldn’t take anyone not medically trained. Most of them work part time here and full time at their real jobs in hospitals and other specialty clinics. They’re all very busy, so I can’t ask more of them than I already am… And not many people are willing to take this on, so as you can imagine we’re very short-staffed.”

                “We’ll be sure to get them some attention,” Jeremy said. He nodded firmly for emphasis. “Let the public know how hard they work.”

                Vera’s face split into another wide smile. “Gene was right about you. You’re different—you’re a part of this generation. You really do think differently than the others.”

                “The others?”

                “Oh, you know. Like the Fox Campbell types.”

                “Oh, I’m no Fox Campbell. I hate that guy.”

                Vera’s eyes widened. “You do? You’re allowed to?”

                Jeremy snorted. “Pfft, I’m his boss. The only thing saving his sorry behind from the chopping block is his seniority.”

                “Maybe ANC will turn itself around… I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess I was wrong.” Vera certainly was passionate about her work. Why she didn’t decide to go to a real, paying hospital was beyond him. People of her level of intelligence and compassion were in high demand these days, with malpractice in the hospitals running high. He could only see her efforts here as wasted talent, but he curbed his tongue about that, knowing that it would be a distasteful thing to say. This common sense, however, was not applied to the next topic of conversation.

                “So,” Jeremy began, feeling himself settling back into the position of a reporter. He wasn’t on camera, but the interview questions were already stirring in his head. It was like riding a bike. “How long do these people typically stay in your care, until they get back onto their feet?” Vera sort of made a face at the term ‘these people,’ but Jeremy didn’t think much of it. “I’m sure everyone is different, but what’s the typical time span?”

                “Well, we opened just five years ago, so I can’t be a good judge of how long people usually need the service. Most of my patients that showed up then are still coming in to this day. It’s a long-term thing.”

                “But don’t you…you know, encourage them to get out there and search for more opportunities? Rehabilitate them?”

                Vera placed a hand on her hip. “That’s not my job. My job is to treat them while they need it.”

                “But if you don’t rehabilitate them, they’re just going to keep depending on you forever. That’s how their minds work. If you baby them, they’re just going to mooch off this service forever.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “I mean, don’t you at least encourage them to get jobs?”

                “Most of my patients already have jobs. Just because you have a job doesn’t mean you’re making ends meet.”

                “Well, if you’re not making ends meet you’re obviously not working hard enough.”

                Vera just stood there, her mouth agape. Jeremy simply shrugged. “What?” Without warning, she stormed back down the hallway, and Jeremy followed behind cautiously. “What, Vera? What’d I say?”

                By the time they made it into the main lobby and waiting room, the camera crew was waiting for them. When Jeremy emerged, they began recording, one of the operators stepping in as the reporter to introduce the scene. “We’re here live at the Mercy Clinic, where Mr. Jeremy Malone himself is going to give a report on this charitable institution.” The reporter looked anxiously over at Jeremy, who was presently bickering with Vera. He made a motion for them to cut the cameras, but apparently the message was never received, because they kept on rolling. They were quickly disregarded by Vera.

                “All right, Malone. I’d like you to meet Ms. Ortega. These are her three little ones. After her boyfriend fathered these three, he up and disappeared without a trace. Since then, she’s been holding down a full time, minimum wage job, and only makes enough to keep these guys fed. There’s no money left afterwards. If any of these children gets sick, she has nowhere to go but here. Now, you tell me, is her situation due to any want of hard work?” The young mother merely leered up at Jeremy, upset that her situation had come into question. Jeremy deftly avoided eye contact with her, and instead focused on the argument at hand. “Okay, okay. Enough of this. Guys, cut the cameras.”

                “No, Jeremy, I’m curious.” Vera’s eyes were now fixed on the camera crew rather than Jeremy. What a bout for attention this turned out to be. “Tell the nice people how accessible PhysicAID is. Tell them about how easy it is to get on PhysicAID’s insurance program with a preexisting condition. Tell them about how many other options are available.” The way she was scolding him—and the audience watching the broadcast—she sounded exactly like a mother keeping her child in line. The humiliation made Jeremy’s face burn.  

                “Cut the cameras,” Jeremy said. His voice was lowering into a bit of a growl at this point.

                “Why don’t you talk to Mr. Clark over here?”

                Vera was gesturing to a guy who looked only slightly older than Jeremy. He was the one who’d been rocking back and forth, whose eyes gave him the chills. Jeremy’s very being resisted the act of getting near him. “Okay! I get it. You’ve made your point. Not all of them are lazy. Some are crazy.”

                The doctor’s expression once more became stern—more so than Jeremy had ever seen. Now he knew he’d crossed a line. “If I hear one more derogatory word about my patients come out of that filthy mouth of yours so help me God I’ll—“

                “Vera,” Gene warned, grabbing her shoulders and trying to calm her down. “It’s okay, he’s not worth it.”

                “No, it’s not okay.” She turned to Jeremy, her face just now red as his. “It’s because of people like you that my patients need this kind of help in the first place! You’re—you’re everything that’s wrong with this stupid country.” Tears were brimming in her eyes as she struggled out of Gene’s grasp.

                Jeremy clenched his teeth. “If you feel that way then why do you even live here? If you hate America so much, why don’t you just leave?”

                A deafening slap resounded in the lobby. All eyes were on the two contenders. Jeremy raised a hand to touch his bright red cheek. He had nothing to say. All the while, the cameras were rolling.

                “I don’t leave,” Vera began calmly, her hand still poised. “…because I care enough to fix it.”

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter Two

Jeremy Malone indeed returned to the world of the living the next day, even if it was a bit late in the morning. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Fox just yet, but he knew that the sooner he confronted the news anchor the least painful it would be. It wasn’t like he could wuss out and do it over the phone—now that he thought about it, he really did need to get a new one before the end of the week. You couldn’t be without a phone in this day and age. It was bad enough that he lived on his own and rarely checked his computer. After an elongated period of morning hygiene, which turned into one big procrastination fest of nose hair plucking and toenail clipping, he grabbed whatever essentials that weren’t broken and got moving.

                Jeremy was still shaken up from the previous night, but the daylight comforted him. There was no way that his assailant would come at him at the morning’s peak. Too many people were commuting to work and it was too bright out. Too many witnesses meant that he was safe. It was night time that he was going to have to worry about. But that was the future, and to Jeremy the future was always some indeterminable time from the present, and that time period was always stretched out by his imagination. Right now, there was nothing to worry about save for Fox’s rage.

                Children began to flock by him on both sides; apparently school was about to begin. The local elementary school was right around the corner, and those students who were so fortunate to live close enough to the school to decidedly not need a bus were braving traffic to get to class on time. The children traveled in packs, Jeremy noticed, as they migrated toward the building. They were loud—too loud for his tastes—but at least they weren’t apathetic like he was. That didn’t settle in until around ninth grade. For now, these kids lived in an urban paradise. It was the kind of paradise that Jeremy was trying to emulate every day of his life.

                “Give it back!”

                So much for the carefree wandering of the students.

                “Jump higher, Shi. You’re too short!”

                “That’s not fair! Just give it! We’re gonna be late!”

                “Is your lunch really that important to you? If it was you’d hit me for it.”

                Jeremy turned around to see a crowd of students. They were all just short enough so that he could see over their heads. Of course, it was a fight. It was a natural instinct of students with nothing better to do to gravitate toward conflict, no matter what risks were involved. One boy—tall and stocky—was holding a brown paper bag over the head of a smaller boy. The smaller of the two had the longest hair he’d ever seen on a kid his age. It was sandy brown, curly to the point of looking tangled, and fell past his neck. It was actually pretty distracting, Jeremy realized, as his attention was once again caught by the situation at hand when the bigger of the two kneed the smaller in the gut. The victim stumbled back, gripping his stomach and clenching his teeth. “Just give it. Please.”

                “Aw, Shi remembered his manners!” Another kick saw the boy on the ground, tears welling up in his eyes. Jeremy twisted his mouth in disgust, wanting to keep walking but knowing that as a bystander he was going to be held accountable. That, and this scene reminded him of similar events in his own childhood. He wasn’t very well liked by his peers growing up, and he never could quite understand why.   

                Jeremy shoved past the jeering school children and pushed the large boy away from the smaller. “Dude, just get going. You’re going to be late for class.” The boy sneered up at him, and Jeremy sneered right back. “Get out of here before I get a teacher to write you up. I’m not that long out of the school system. I still know that hitting another kid can get you in deep shit. You hear me?” The kid snarled and railed his fist so hard into Jeremy’s gut that he doubled over in pain. After that, he merely ran off, joining his friends and mocking the Jeremy’s words in effeminate voices. Their laughs permeated the air as long as it took for Jeremy to recover from the blow. It knocked the wind out of him and his eyes threatened the prickling of tears, but he refused to show any more weakness than he already had. How embarrassing. This was what he got for being a good Samaritan?

                The boy he’d saved had stayed behind, but kept a good distance from Jeremy, flinching whenever he cursed. His face was covered in freckles and there was a big gap in his front teeth. No wonder he was bully-bait. “What? Go on, get to class. Nothing to see here.”

                “I…” The boy looked down at his feet, shuffling them a bit while he gathered up the courage to speak. Remembering his manners, he interjected, “Thank you for trying to save me.” The word trying made Jeremy cringe even harder. “I…I really need that bag though. He ran off with it.”

                “So what? It’s your lunch. You can eat when you get home. I got my lunch taken from me all the time when I was a kid. It’s what you get when you don’t fight back.”

                “It’s not my lunch.”

                “What is it, then?”

                The boy smiled sheepishly. “It’s a delivery. Like a package.” After a flat-faced, wordless response from Jeremy, he continued, “I was supposed to take it to my big brother. I wasn’t supposed to let anyone else have it. Or even look at what’s inside of it. It’s really important.”

                As the Jeremy straightened himself out, he narrowed his eyes. “Then why didn’t you fight back? You didn’t even lift those skinny little arms. You were just like a rag doll.”

                “Mom says I’m not allowed to fight.”

                “Not even for your brother’s stuff?”

                “Not even for my brother’s stuff.”

                “But he was really hurting you. What he went too far? You mean to tell me that you can’t aim a punch no matter what?”

                “No matter what. It’s really important that I don’t. She says it’s best if I don’t even acknowledge bullies. If they try and fight me, I just have to try and get help. Or get away.”

                “Sounds like your mom’s crazy.”

                “She is not! She’s really, really smart. I know she’s just looking out for me.”

                “That’s one hell of a way to look out for you.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, as the boy didn’t seem cheered up any. He just looked up at the older man, with those eyes—eyes that expected something of him. Like an innocent version of his father or Fox. He couldn’t just walk away. He couldn’t just tell the kid to say goodbye to whatever was in that bag. For all of his physical oddities…he was cute. Stupidly cute. Like Jeremy was when he was a kid. He was looking at himself.

                “All right, all right. I’ll help you get that bag back. But you have to promise me you won’t be such a wimp in the future.”

                “I promise!”

                The two crossed the street, and jogged a bit to catch up to the crowd the bully had joined. They were just far enough from the school grounds that Jeremy wouldn’t get any legal trouble for confronting him. “Hey, kid. We’re gonna need that bag back.”

                The bully and his possy turned around and just started laughing. He was literally two-thirds of Jeremy’s height, and here he was, making an ass of him. At this point he lost all self control. “I don’t think you understood me. Having trouble paying attention? Forget your Ritalin at home?” The joke seemed to go over the kid’s head, so Jeremy tried a different approach. “Or were you held back a few grades?”

                The freckled boy tugged on Jeremy’s sleeve. “I don’t think you should do that…”

                “So what if I was?” The bully suddenly interjected.

                “Oh-ho! Did I strike a nerve, big guy?”

                “Don’t!”

                The bully charged at Jeremy with his thick fist raised for the kill, but this time he dodged to the right, allowing the kid to run right past. In a blind fury, he skidded to a halt and came running back at Jeremy, who had his own fist poised this time. As the two made contact, Jeremy’s fist connected with the side of the boy’s face at full force, sending him flying to the ground. The freckled boy gasped and jumped back, and managed to glance across the street just in time to see a cell phone raised in their direction. The scene had been captured.

                The remaining group of children scattered, running for the school and screaming. Jeremy turned around, shaking the pain out of his bright red fist. “What?” He then glanced down at the bully that lay sprawled out on the street, his lip split and bleeding and his cheek quickly bruising. “…shit.” The paper bag lay on the street where it was dropped by the kid, and Jeremy stooped down to pick it up. “At least I got your bag back.” Without thinking, he opened it and peered inside. All that was in it was a collection of rolled up papers secured with a rubber band and a card of some sort. The freckled boy cried out as he grabbed at the back, managing to secure it this time. “No, you can’t look! No one was supposed to see inside! My brother said so!”

                Jeremy merely shrugged. “But he wasn’t here to see me look inside, was he?”

                “That’d be lying! I can’t lie to him!”

                “It’s not a lie if you don’t even say anything. He probably won’t even ask. Just pretend it never happened.”

                “Mom says that’s as bad as lying…”

                “Well, the way I see it, your mom’s ‘advice’ started this whole mess. Just keep it to yourself and no one will care.”

                “I’ll try…” The young boy rolled up the top of the bag so that it was secured, looking down at his feet all the while. “Thank you for getting it back for me… What’s your name?”

                “Jeremy.”

                The freckled boy suddenly looked up, baring the gap in his teeth with a wide grin. “I’m Shiloh. Can we be friends?”

                “Sure…I guess?”

                “Awesome! I don’t have many friends. Just mom’s friends. This will be the first friend I made all by myself!”

                “I’m flattered…” Jeremy cringed. What a life this boy led. His mother must have been one of those crazy, sheltering soccer-moms by the sound of it. No friends and constant bullying? Sounded painfully familiar. Damn, this Shiloh kid was just depressing.

                “Anyway—I should get to class. I’ll see you around?” Shiloh said hopefully.

                “Yeah, sure. I’m sure we’ll see each other again real soon.”

                “I can’t wait,” the boy replied enthusiastically. “You’re so cool.” Disregarding the larger student who was now groaning and writhing on the street, Shiloh turned and headed toward the school. “Bye!”

                Jeremy watched him run off as if nothing happened, then looked down at his assault victim, whose eyes were still contorted shut in pain. “I… Hey, dude, I’m real sorry… The kid just needed his bag back. I mean… Hey, do you want help up?” Suddenly, the boy opened his eyes and spat blood on Jeremy’s pant leg. He promptly left the scene.

--

                Fox wasn’t waiting around for Jeremy when he stepped in through the sliding glass doors to the main studio. The large flat screen at the information desk revealed that he was in, but not available. Realizing that Fox was probably occupied with paperwork or something, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. The elevator ride would give him time to rehearse what he would say. No matter what it wouldn’t be easy, but sometimes the right words could work as damage control.

As he walked down the hall to the elevator to make it to his own office, he was met with several coworkers who each told them that he was dead meat in one way or another. Jeremy laughed it off like he always did, but now he was slightly worried. None of them seemed willing to give more information, so he’d have to find out what Fox was going to drill him on when he actually confronted the man. When the elevator arrived at his current floor, there was someone else already in it, but he was heading up to the same floor. Jeremy gave him a polite nod before stepping in beside him.

“Floor 45, please,” he spoke to the voice-recognition system. The elevator promptly began moving again. It seemed this stranger was heading up as well.

                Something about this man’s stature and clothing struck Jeremy as familiar. He studied his co-rider for a few seconds before his gaze was met and he was caught staring, causing him to avert his eyes once more. After they ascended a few more floors, it hit him. This was the man who had chased him home the previous night. Jeremy was sure of it. Wide-eyed, he slowly turned his head to once again look at the other man, who suddenly adopted a look of annoyance. “What?”

                “N-nothing.”

                He was alone in an elevator with a man who wanted to kill him. There were no call buttons to press discreetly; the only thing present beside the door was a directory of floors.

                “Well,” Jeremy suddenly blurted out, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Where do you work?”

                “I’m an acquaintance of Mr. Campbell’s.” He was looking forward now, his expression flat.

                “Are you, now?”

                “Is that a problem?”

                “N-no!”

                The proper connections were made in Jeremy’s brain. He clenched his fists, hoping that the damn elevator would just kick into overdrive and take him to the man who had made his life a living hell since before he could remember.

                When the doors opened, both men took off, power-walking down the hall as if it were a race. “I’ve got to see him first. It’s important.”

                “My business is just as important, I’m sure. And I have an appointment.”

                “I don’t need an appointment. I’m the big guy around here.”

                “I know you are.”

                Without warning, Jeremy took off running and reached Fox’s office well before the man who had become his adversary. The door slammed open, and he stumbled in, breathing hard. “Fox!”

                “Jeremy.”

                “I need to speak with you.”

                “I need to speak with you too. But I’m expecting someone right about now.” Around that time, the man who had tried to kill Jeremy the previous night stepped in behind him. “Mr. Campbell.”

                “Ah, I’ve been expecting you.”

                “But!”

                “Jeremy, please wait outside. This will only take a moment.”

                “Who is this guy?!”

                “That is of little importance to you. He isn’t affiliated with this company. Please step outside before I have you escorted by security.” Jeremy scowled and stormed out, neglecting to close the door on the way out. He wanted to hear what this “business” was. Unfortunately, the door slid shut right in front of his face before he could even hear the first words exchanged. Fox had tried to pin Jeremy with that mechanism enough times in the past for him to know to stay clear of it. He slumped up against the door, hoping to at least catch a bit of what was said, but their tones were far too hushed for him to hear anything. This was definitely something they wanted to keep from him. This had to be something concerning him.

                Only five minutes elapsed before the “acquaintance” re-emerged, but it felt like five years. Jeremy fell forward into the room as the door was opened, and ended up brushing shoulders with his adversary. This caused him to yelp and jump away, which only earned him a strange look as the other man took off for the elevator once more.

                “Thank you for being patient.”

                “Who was that?”

                “I heard you punched a third-grader in the face, Jeremy.”

                “That? How the hell did you—“

                “Why did you punch a third-grader in the face?”

                “I—dammit, Fox! It was in defense of another kid. How did you find out? It happened like a half hour ago.”

                “Thirty-eight minutes, actually. I received a text message containing this picture.” Fox held up his phone, and a clear image of the act was displayed. It was taken right when contact was made, and looked positively dreadful. The first word that came to Jeremy’s mind when he saw his own face was demonic. The kid’s face was contorted by the blow, his mouth pursed sideways and his neck craned unnaturally to the side. He was speechless.

                “The picture is pretty funny, I must say, but that’s not the point. Do you have any idea how much money the photographer demanded to not have it posted all over the internet?”

                “Uh.”

                “A lot of money, Jeremy. And that’s just for the picture. It will also cost a fortune just to keep the mother from pressing charges.”

                “Wait, why have you made this your problem?”

                “The photographer made it my problem, sending it directly to me. Did you not receive a similar text message?”

                “I. Uh. My phone’s broke.”

                Fox pinched the bridge of his nose and was silent for a few moments. Then, “…how did your phone break, Jeremy?”

                “I threw it at a wall after I hung up on you last night.”

                “Ah. I figured as much.”

                “I would have ignored the text message altogether if the CEO of my own dear company wasn’t being blackmailed for it. That’s how devoted I am, Jeremy. I will not let you ruin everything we’ve—I’ve— worked so hard for all these years. If our public opinion goes down, we’ll lose our exclusive influence over the media. Other small companies will step up and we’ll just go downhill. Do you want that?”

                “Hmph.” No comebacks were coming to mind. They’d likely surface after the dispute, as they always did. Instead, Jeremy crossed his arms and pouted.

                “You’ve become a liability to ANC, Jeremy. That’s all you are. You’ve contributed nothing positive. Only deficits and migraines. You make the lives of everyone you work with a living hell. I’d say your family, too, but I forgot momentarily that you don’t exactly have any. Then I thought about how miserable your friends you must be, but it occurred to me that you don’t have any of those, either.”

                “Is that why you hired that hitman to off me?” Hell yes. Just the snappy comeback he’d always dreamed of.

                “…what?”

                “You heard me. That guy you were just talking to chased me all the way home last night. With a gun. He was trying to kill me and you paid him to do it.”

                “Why in the hell would I do that?”

                “Why wouldn’t you do it?”

                Fox sat back and paused. “You have a good point there. But what makes you think it’s me and not one of the other hundreds of people who hate you?”

                “Because you’re the only one crazy enough to do it.”

                “You think I’m crazy, Jeremy? Is that what you think? Am I crazy for loving America? Loving my freedom?”

                “You’re crazy for keeping guns in the studio and regularly threatening everyone close to you. You talk about me having no family and friends, but you’re just as bad. The only difference between you and me is that you actually give a rat’s ass about this company.” He was on fire. This was just the argument he’d been dreaming about for years.

                “Get out of my office, Jeremy.”

                “I own this place.”

                “You only think you do. In this country, you only own what you work for. And you haven’t put forth a drop of your precious little sweat for ANC. You’re nothing. I run this company, and will continue to do so for eight more years. By then, you’ll be dead by your own means. No one needed to hire a hitman, you paranoid lunatic.” Fox’s face was turning beet-red, and he was soon gasping for breath. “You always do this, Jeremy,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re the reason I have high blood pressure in the first place.” He spun his chair around so that his back was to Jeremy while he tried to calm down. His breathing never slowed, and not before long he was phoning Lloyd Tillman, asking him to drive him to the hospital for treatment. Jeremy took this chance to disappear.

--

                After doing a minimal amount of work in his own office (primarily answering emails and signing documents), he decided to call it quits and head home for the day where he could get things figured out. The meeting with Fox was far too disturbing, and he still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hired that hitman. No, this was a certainty. But just how far was the guy willing to go? Was he safe in his own apartment? Should he go to the police? Would they even believe him, given his reputation? He’d never experienced anything like this before, and had no one to ask for advice. He really was all alone, and could potentially die because of it. Jeremy didn’t choose to become an enemy of Fox. It just kind of happened and escalated to this point. He cursed his luck as he walked, kicking stones and stomping like a grade schooler having a temper tantrum.

                By the time he passed the elementary school, classes were letting out for the day, and children were emerging from the double-doors. As Jeremy looked down, he noticed blood on the sidewalk where the boy had fallen and cringed. How morbid. As the first crowd of children passed him, they picked up running in order to get away from him and screamed.

                “Hey! That’s not fair…” Jeremy winced as all of the others that passed him followed suit. Having had enough, he crossed the street, hoping to avoid the rest of them altogether. He eventually noticed one of them crossing in order to get to him, and let out a sigh when he saw who it was.

                “Hi Jeremy!”

                “…heeey, Shiloh.”

                “I brought the bag to my brother during lunch.”

                “Did you, now?”

                “He was mad at me.”

                “Why?”

                “I told him.”

                Jeremy searched his memory, but nothing came up. “What’d you tell him?”

                “That you saw what was in it.”

                “Why is it such a big deal? I don’t even remember what was in it anyway.”

                “He didn’t want anyone to know.”

                “What, were there drugs in the bag that I didn’t see? Is he a pusher or something?”

                “No, no. He stays away from that stuff. He’s just doing some really important work but it has to be top-secret.” Shiloh put a finger to his lips in demonstration. “But I don’t think he’s mad at you. Just at me for letting you look.”

                “Did you tell him that I looked on my own, even though you told me not to?”

                Shiloh looked down. “No, I guess not.”

                “Well, you tell him that next time so he doesn’t stay mad at you.”

                “Thanks!” As Jeremy looked down at the boy, he was met with a toothy grin. “I ‘preciate it. Where are you going?”

                “Home.”

                “Me too. Well, I have to go this way.”

                “I’m going the other way, heh. I guess I’ll see you later.”

                “Okay. Bye!” He captured Jeremy in a weak side-hug before running off for home. What a weird kid. At that moment it occurred to him that while it seemed pathetic that he was Shiloh’s only real friend, Shiloh was his only friend as well.

                “Maybe I should just let that guy shoot me.”

[jonahiswatching]

Chapter One

Jeremy Malone didn’t notice he was being followed.

                He also failed to notice how long it was taking him and his friends to get to the convenience store which was supposed to be just around the corner. Still, a good time was a good time—even if it was at the expense of those trying to sleep at 2AM on a Tuesday. One guy was insisting that it was Wednesday, but Jeremy couldn’t be convinced. The alcohol, he would always say, sharpened his internal clock. So did everything else he took. That was why he never bothered to wind his Rolex—it was just for show, like most everything else.

                “I’m calling the cops!” someone shouted out of an apartment window.

                “I’m calling your mom!”

                The group—half a dozen twenty-somethings—staggered along, pushing one another into trash cans and cars, setting off alarms. They couldn’t hear much over the sound of their own high-pitched laughter, and together with blurred vision they were successfully able to tune out their environment. In moments of clarity they often rationalized that theirs was a better part of Los Angeles, and muggers usually kept to the poor parts of town. This, of course, was completely unfounded, but none of them liked being cooped up in someone’s apartment for too long. This morning, surprisingly enough, their excuse to get out was a bag of chips. They had plenty of the other stuff.

                “We aren’t going the right way.”

                “Sure we are. Chill.”

                “No, really, I don’t recognize these buildings…”

                “Man, they’re buildings. They all look the same. You’re just wasted.”

                “No, man, I’m serious.”

                Jeremy tuned them out as he tried to have a serious look around. They had in fact made it into a different part of town, somehow. He had no doubt that they’d find their way back before the sun came up, but he was really wanting those chips now. Not a neon open sign in sight. He whimpered in protest.

                “Well then, where’re we?”

                “Hell if I know. Malone was leading the way.”

                “No, I think you were.”

                “Was I?”

                Just then, the figure of a man turned the corner, and Jeremy was the only one to really care enough to observe. It was 2AM, after all. He squinted, but he couldn’t figure out if he recognized the guy or not. After an intense moment of contemplation, he realized that everything had gotten considerably quieter. He looked around, and found that his friends had left him.

                “What the hell?” Jeremy played with the bottom hem of his shirt as he looked around. He wasn’t where he thought he was, either. Empty parking lot? When had he gotten here? The act of calling upon his memory was causing his head to swim, so he crouched down to keep from falling over.

                “Hey, guys?”

                It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself alone in this state, but it was always a little frustrating. They’d agreed to keep together. He stood and began pacing about the parking lot, murmuring about what he’d do to each of the guys when he got the chance. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but the sky was a little brighter. That meant time had passed. Jeremy hated when it did that, as it seemed to do no matter how closely he watched it.

                Deep breath.

                He took off walking again, hoping to find some sort of landmark that would either guide him home or back to the others. Whatever part of Los Angeles Jeremy was in, it was eerily dark. He was used to lights everywhere—night clubs, billboards, headlights… The part he was in seemed dead. Jeremy was disoriented and it was freaking him out. His vision was failing him, as his eyes kept falling out of focus. The angry text message he sent to one of the guys—which he knew was in vain—was probably also unreadable.

                Jeremy eventually made it to a park and collapsed onto an unoccupied bench. It was the only unoccupied bench, as there were homeless men everywhere. Disgusting. There was one lying under a tree behind him and Jeremy could smell him all the way from the bench. He positioned himself so that he was looking up at the stars, and draped his forearm over his head.

After a few moments a figure standing on the other side of the street he was facing caught his attention. Jeremy’s memory was triggered—wasn’t he looking at a guy earlier? He couldn’t tell if they resembled one another or not, but they acted the same. The pose, the…watching him. Jeremy swallowed thickly, trying to get whatever was clogging up his dry through down so that he could breathe again.

                Then, in a moment of antagonistic glory—“C’n help you?”

                The figure make a break for him. Jeremy yelped and staggered to his feet, running into a busy street off the other side of the park and trying frantically to lose his pursuer in the traffic. After escaping death several times, he reached the opposite sidewalk and tried to locate the man in case he was still after him. Surely enough, the traffic eventually hit a red light, and the man had started crossing with a calm gait. Jeremy breathed an expletive before making a dash down the sidewalk. Paranoia turned to adrenaline as he tried his best to sober up and take in his surroundings. The names of the cross streets were becoming more and more familiar, and soon he had somewhat of an idea of where he was in relation to his own apartment.

                His lungs were on fire. Jeremy was soon forced to collapse against a building, coughing and wheezing. He wasn’t fit—his running excuse was that he had no time for exercise. This was awful. He’d done nothing wrong. He was just trying to go home. What was this guy’s deal?

                As his pursuer showed himself in the distance, briskly walking in Jeremy’s direction, Jeremy shouted, “What’s your deal?” Then, despite the agony in his bones, he took off running again. This time, it was more of a jog, as the adrenaline had long since worn off. Jeremy wheezed and groaned as he slugged along, and, finding a narrow street that he recognized as a shortcut to his apartment, he made an abrupt right and simply hoped that his pursuer had lost track of him visually.

                After Jeremy had been forced to slow to a walk by his own ineptitude, it became apparent that he hadn’t. “I really don’t wanna run anymore, dude…” As his stalker began to close the distance, he raised a gun, which started Jeremy’s flow of adrenaline right back up. With a nightmarish shriek, he picked up a quick sprint again, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for a bullet. He ran and ran and ran, not daring to look back, not daring to stop, not daring to open his eyes. Eventually he was slowed by the sound of someone shouting at him. “Hey…hey! What’s going on?” For once in Jeremy’s hellish night, fate decided to have mercy on him. It was a pair of police officers.

                “Oh thank God. Officers…I’m being chased.” That was all he managed to blurt out before he erupted into a fit of coughs. This time, he vomited the contents of his stomach right in front of the two men, who merely looked at one another uncomfortably. “I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve been running. For like. Ever. Please. Please. Stop the man who’s chasing me. He has. A gun.”

                “Who has a gun?”

                “The man.”

                “Can you describe the man?”

                “No…”

                “Is he here?”

                Jeremy forced himself upright once more, despite the contortion of his abdomen. He looked around, and despite a thorough scan of the area, he failed to locate his pursuer. He’d simply disappeared. “…no…”

                “Have you been drinking tonight, sir?”

                “No. Yes. I mean…I’ve sobered up. I’m serious, this is real. I was just chased all the way from this park and…and he had a gun and he was going to shoot me.” In spite of himself, Jeremy was on the verge of tears.

                “Wait…you’re Jeremy Malone, aren’t you?”

                “Yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah, I am. And I’m scared as hell and I just want to go home.”

                The officers shared a laugh which Jeremy observed with an indignant expression. “Want a ride? It’s the least we could do. Then if…you know, the man with the gun comes back, we can protect you.” The officer snorted, and the other started laughing again. Jeremy stuck out his lower lip. It wasn’t the first time he had been caught in an embarrassing situation like this, and it seemed like his celebrity status made moments like these even worse. Nonetheless, he accepted the ride home and had every intention to sleep it off like a bad nightmare. 

--

Like most Tuesday mornings, Jeremy Malone had no idea where he was upon waking up. The lack of light aggravating his hangover eventually clued him in to the real time—it was Tuesday evening. Whoops. When had he left his apartment? He clearly remembered being dropped off at his own place by the officers, but everything after that was—once more—hazy. Once his eyesight returned to him, he lifted his arm (which felt like lead) to dig into his pocket and check his phone. The date in the corner told him that he was mistaken. It wasn’t Tuesday, but Wednesday. 7:18 PM, to be exact. Jeremy groaned.

                He tried to sit up, but some woman with smeared makeup was lying in a heap across his chest. Jeremy cringed, but this expression faded as he realized that, yes, his pants were still on. “Okaaay, lady. I need to get up. I need to go home.” He nudged her, but she wouldn’t budge. Out cold. “Dammit, get off of me.” Jeremy wriggled, but she wouldn’t stir. Mustering all the strength he had at this ungodly hour, he shoved the woman off of him, and woke her up in the process. She let out a few expletives under her breath before drifting back into unconsciousness. “Yeah, okay.”

                Still unaware of whose apartment this was, Jeremy stumbled into the bathroom with a familiarity that did not strike him as odd. He hissed as he turned on the light, immediately covering his eyes with his hands. The other hand blindly felt for the faucet, and after a few attempts he managed to turn it on. He splashed some of the cold water onto his face before looking up at his own reflection. There were bags under his eyes, and his long blonde hair was falling out of its ponytail in several places. To his disgust he noticed that it was quite greasy, but was too tired to put forth the effort to jump into the shower. Instead, he stared blankly at his reflection, idly itching at his chest. In the middle of his period of deep contemplation, his phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him backwards into the wall. He caught himself and reached for it, inwardly vowing to strangle whoever it was. After reading the ID, Jeremy reluctantly pressed it to his face.

                “…what is it, Fox?”

                “Where the hell are you? You’ve been missing for days. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep coming up with excuses for your sorry ass? Meet me in my office before 7:30 or so help me God I will kill you.”

                “You’ve been threatening that for two years, Fox.”

                “You. Here. 7:30.”

                “That sounds like a great plan and all, but that’s ten minutes from now, asshat.”

                “Well, where are you?”

                “…far.”

                “You don’t know, do you?”

                “What do you need me so soon for anyway?”

                “The conference?”

                “That’s tonight?” Oh, right. It was Wednesday. “Right. Okay. Tell everyone I’m sick.” Wasn’t too far from the truth.

                “You’re dead, Jeremy.”

                “Yeah, I know. Bye now.” Without hanging up, Jeremy lazily chucked his phone, which collided with the wall. With a gut-wrenching noise, the small device shattered, and the bulk of it fell into the toilet. He took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes, and then opened them again. His phone was still resting against the side of the toilet bowl, its screen flashing and its data corrupting. “At least I won’t have to answer any more calls.” Jeremy hummed an incoherent tune as he unzipped his pants and ended his phone’s suffering.

                He soon emerged from the bathroom, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that the living room in the small apartment was actually quite populated, but no one was awake. There was no one to clue him in on where he ended up after the previous night’s chain of events. Jeremy left the apartment anyway, knowing that he at least had to make it to his own if he was going to make that Wednesday at least somewhat productive. He’d answer his emails and then promptly return to bed, resetting his sleep schedule and returning to the world of the living.

--

                As Lloyd Tillman ascended the floors of American News Corporation’s main headquarters in a crowded elevator, he rehearsed his television facial expressions. Appearance was everything, and this was to be his first time on camera. He was an intern fresh out of college, and had been summoned without any prior interview to work directly under Fox Campbell himself. What had distinguished him from the rest, he had no idea, but he took the opportunity with great eagerness. Opportunities like this didn’t fall into place every day. This was a miracle of God, and God was Fox Campbell as far as Lloyd was concerned. He was going to impress this man no matter what it took.

                As he reached his desired floor, he spoke with the receptionist, who informed him that Fox had been waiting. Lloyd apologized briskly and made his way to the room in which he’d meet his hero. As the door slid open, he was looking down the barrel of an old-fashioned handgun. Lloyd blinked once, blinked twice, and finally came to the conclusion that this was actually happening. As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he realized that Fox—salt and pepper hair, glasses, fatherly look—was the one pointing the gun, and he was sitting in a wheeled desk chair right in front of the door. There was a stern look on his face, and all Lloyd could do was remember to breathe. After a century, Fox put the gun down and put on his trademark wink and a smile. “Gotcha there.”

                He wheeled backward, allowing Lloyd entrance into the newsroom. Unsure of how to react, the intern began to laugh, slowly regaining his composure and realizing that it was a pretty funny stunt to pull. Fox began to laugh with him, but after a while it died down. “You laugh because you think I brought some old gun to work and thought it’d be amusing to make that my first impression on you. Newsroom hazing, if you will. Of course I’d never load it, that’d be unsafe. Right? Wrong. This gun is definitely loaded, and my finger was on the trigger. For those thirty-five seconds, I cradled your life in my index finger. I would like you to mark that as a metaphor for the power I hold over you from the moment you agree to work for me. Have we come to an agreement?”

                Lloyd could not speak. Instead, his eyes were on the gun that still rested in Fox’s lap. He was dumbfounded, frozen in terror. “I suppose I haven’t made my point.” The senior anchor adjusted his glasses, and then lifted his gun again and pointed it at Lloyd’s throat. “Your destiny is mine. Your fate is subject to my manipulation. Blink once if you hear me.” The intern blinked.

                “Good! Welcome aboard, Lloyd. May I call you Lloyd? I like you. You’ve got a face for TV. Good composure, too. You ready for your talk segment?”

                “I think so.”

                The gun was raised again.

                “I’m ready!”

                “Awesome. Just the attitude I like to see. Keep it up, and I shouldn’t have to skew your destiny just yet.” Wink and a smile.

                As the crew prepared, the guests for the segment arrived. It was a group of five dignified senior citizens, all men, all in decorated military attire. Fox greeted them eagerly and shook each of their hands, while Lloyd stood in the background and sipped nervously at a water bottle. Eventually they all took their seats at a round table, and the cameras were rolled into position. Fox, noticing Lloyd’s unease, slapped him on the back. “Oh, Lloyd. Lay back, relax! Apathy’s back in style!”

                “November 3, 2071. American News Corporation, your only source for the latest breaking news.” The cameras focused on Fox, who braced himself for another skillful introduction.

                “This is A Word with your host, Fox Campbell. I’m here with some very special guests tonight. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the invasion that began the War on the Homefront. I’m pleased to announce that five of the original ‘Superman Brigade’ have taken the time out of their busy schedules to sit down for an interview tonight to discuss their experiences in the war.”

                The men were introduced one by one by Lloyd, who shook each of their hands. They were honorable, yet humble. He was comforted by their presence, despite the fact that even in their unarmed state and old age they could easily kill each and every man in the room.

                “Now,” Fox began, “I’m sure America is dying to know: how are you all feeling? More youthful than seventy-something year olds, I’m sure. You sure have the energy to give that impression, with all of your book-signing tours and appearances around the world. It’s a full time job, being living legends.”

                “You got that right,” one responded, laughing. “Well, I don’t know about the others here, but I feel about the same as anyone my age might feel. Nothing different, to be sure.” The rest nodded in agreement.

                “Ah, forgive me for assuming. But I’m sure you understand where we might get that impression. I mean, you were all genetically enhanced right before Thanksgiving of 2024.”

                “There are plenty of misconceptions that come with that, Fox. Our enhancements were developed for wartime purposes only. Sure, we have the abilities that carried us through to victory, but that’s got nothing to do with the way we age.”

                “What, exactly, were the improvements performed upon you during the testing phase?”

                “Well, we were given superior strength, and that was the bulk of what we used. But we could also regenerate damaged tissue. That, and our senses were improved upon—and trust me, those can be a real nuisance sometimes.”

                Fox laughed. “I can only imagine. So, you’re superior on the battlefield, but when put back into society you’re just like everyone else. What a concept.” A deliberate pause. “Oh, didn’t you have a question, Tillman?”

                Lloyd froze, but then looked to the prompter. There, in big text, was his pre-determined  question. He breathed a sigh of relief before reiterating it to the veterans. “Are you experiencing any negative effects from the testing? After fifty years, anything that would be troublesome would have made itself apparent, I imagine.”

                “You’re quite right. But that’s the curious thing. We still haven’t experienced any side effects. You would think that abilities like this would come at a great price, but we feel just fine. No health defects, no psychological damage… We’re entirely normal. Of course, we all receive free medical examinations every other month just in case something nasty does decide to show itself, but we’ve perfectly healthy the whole time.”

                Lloyd leaned forward and propped his chin up on his palm, trying his best to portray the nonchalant look Fox had suggested. “That must be nice. A win-win situation.”

                Fox glanced at the teleprompter before changing the subject. “Some people are regarding Hector Wilkes as a war criminal now. Sure, doing this kind of research and experimentation on human begins was outlawed shortly after the war, but everyone had agreed that Wilkes did what had to be done to win the war—God rest his soul. Do you agree with this new sentiment? Should he be considered a war criminal?”

                The five men grumbled in unison. One spoke up after a few murmurs of discontent among the group. “If anyone dares say anything like that to my face, he’ll have another thing coming. There was nothing inhumane about it. We considered it the next generation of weaponry. With each war comes a new way to kill—that’s the nature of war. Wilkes wasn’t doing anything different from the works of Richard Gatling or Albert Einstein. If that damn sniper hadn’t taken his life two years later, he would have fought to the end to keep genetic research and practice legal. He believed in it, and so do we.”

                Without the teleprompter, Lloyd found a question of his own. “Nothing inhumane? What about the actual procedures, if you don’t mind me asking? That’s something I’ve always been curious about.” Fox cocked his gun under the table, pointing it sideways so that a shot would hit Lloyd in the stomach. Leaning in, he murmured, “You stick to the script, got that?” The intern gasped sharply, but covered it up with a few coughs, followed by a sip from his water bottle. After an uncomfortable pause, one of the veterans answered his question.

                “Oh, we were put under for the procedures. We’ve discussed it many times, but we can’t recall exactly how it was done. I know there were some chemicals involved, but we can’t ask Wilkes himself, bless him.” The rest of the veterans nodded in agreement. “We’re sure that there were surgical procedures and minimal testing, but we were released into the battlefield in a matter of days. I think it was a little over a week. Then we really showed ‘em.”

                “In one of the most glorious battles in American history,” Fox finished. “Now that we’ve addressed that slanderous war criminal talk, what do you make of the rumors that these experiments are still going on?”

                “Nonsense. The American government established the Department of Research and Ethics for this very purpose, and it does its job. Any research for war has to be sanctioned by the government to even establish a base in America. It’s all very transparent.”

                After that, Lloyd found he had a prompt, but only after a sharp jab in the gut by the handgun. “Do you think we’ll return to this method in future wars?”

                “Only time can tell. Like the breakthroughs in the early twentieth century, it might just become a necessity. But I don’t think we’ll have another war for a good while. Our troops are keeping a good eye on anyone who might spark another insurgence in North Korea and Iran. I believe that it will be a question of ethics for the next generation…maybe even further into the future than that. And I know that they will make the right decisions. We owe our victory forty-six years ago to the quick, progressive innovations by Hector Wilkes and the nation’s readiness to accept something new and strange.”

                “As we always are,” Fox finished with a smug smile. “I’d like to thank you gentlemen for joining us tonight. It really was a pleasure seeing you again, as it always is seeing living American legends.” He turned to the cameras with his wink and a smile. “America, the movie The Day We Met Superman hits theatres this Thanksgiving. For those of you who couldn’t get enough of their story in history class, this movie tells all. Any words to leave us with, gentlemen?”

                After a few murmurs, one of the veterans proclaimed, “Don’t fear progress.”

                “And we’re clear!” The cameras cut to a closing sequence, and Lloyd slumped in his chair. After some friendly goodbyes and the dismissal of the veterans, Fox called his intern into his office for a private word. Grasping his water bottle so hard that it crumpled, Lloyd did as he was told.

                “Have a seat.”

                The intern sat.

                “I hope you’re used to taking orders. That little stunt you pulled—that was unacceptable. You need to follow the teleprompter at all times. If it doesn’t tell you to speak, you shut that little mouth of yours and smile, because we don’t want to hear it. You have no right to improvise until you’ve put your years in like I have.”

                “M-Mr. Campbell, will all due respect… Why did you take me on as an intern? Why do you even want me working for you?”

                “Lloyd, I’m fifty-two years old. My contract has me retiring in eight years. In eight short years, my career ends and I leave the ANC forever. Where will they be without me? Hell if I know. Jeremy Malone is already liable to run this place into the ground. I was Rodney’s backbone and I have to work extra hard to be Jeremy’s in order to keep us afloat. When I’m gone, all hell is going to break loose. You…you’re going to be my successor. You’re going to be the next Fox Campbell, as painful as it is for me to say it.”

                “Me?”

                “Drop that self-doubt now, Lloyd. You’re going to be a man when I’m done molding you. You’re going to be the next best news anchor ANC has ever seen, even if it kills me. I’ve put so much into this corporation and I’ll be damned if it all goes to waste.”

                “I can’t help but feel that you picked me at random, though…”

                “I did, Lloyd. I did. I had very little time topick from the lousy pool of candidates; I’d have to train the interns in eight short years, after all. So I used the photos of each candidate to make my decision. Your hair is black like mine, and your facial structure is similar to mine. You don’t wear glasses, but that can be fixed. This job is all about image, Lloyd, and I need a son-like figure if I’m going to retire with a glorious memory in my wake. I was never married long enough to have a son of my own, but that’s what the public eats up these days. That’s why Jeremy got to be CEO and not me.”

                “Are you going to tell people I’m your son?”

                “No; they’d never believe that. I’m just going to let the public get used to the idea until they believe it. It’s the best we can do.”

                “I think I need time to think about this…”

                “It’s too late. You’ve already jumped onboard. This is it; you’re to be one of the most powerful men in America by 2079. Now, buck up. It’s time for you to meet some people.”