Into The Night, page 21
“I will, Mama. Love you.”
She hung up and sat on the bed as she regained her composure. While she’d lived her whole life as a lie, she hated the feeling that she’d only delayed Madeline’s heartbreak. Time was ticking, however, and she had to focus on the day ahead.
She ordered room service, showered, and put on her favorite dress with just enough time to meet the driver in the lobby below.
“Good morning, Ms. Robbins. I hope you had a pleasant evening and that the accommodations suited you.”
“Good morning. Yes, this place is amazing.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Mr. Roseman always likes his guests to enjoy their stay. We need to be on our way. He’s expecting you shortly.”
“Do you mind me asking what your name is?”
“My name?”
“Yeah. Right now, you’re the only person I know in New York City, and I don’t even know your name.”
The man hesitated for a moment.
“Is there a reason you can’t tell me?”
“No. Most people never ask. Your question just surprised me. My name is Thomas. Thank you for asking.”
Cassandra extended her hand and shook his. “It’s nice to meet you, Thomas. Where I come from it’s rude to not get to know other people. Please call me Cassandra.”
“That’s refreshing. It’s the same where I grew up. I guess I’m just used to the anonymity of the big city now. Thank you, Cassandra.”
The ride to Be Yourself headquarters took roughly forty-five minutes given the morning traffic. Thomas mentioned all the points of interest along the route. Now that they were on a first name basis, conversation flowed easily. She told him about growing up on a farm in Iowa. He told her about growing up in small-town Illinois.
“I came here to escape what I viewed as a prison growing up. I didn’t want to spend my life trapped working at the local factory like my dad and brothers did. I thought there was something more.” Thomas almost sounded wistful.
“I hear ya. That’s why I left Iowa as soon as I could and moved to Paradise Cove.”
“Do you like it there?”
“For the most part, yes. It gets lonely sometimes, but it’s a beautiful area.”
“I can’t imagine you being lonely. You’ve got to have a boyfriend.”
Thomas glanced in the rearview mirror at her. She met his gaze.
“No, I don’t. The last guy I dated turned out to have three other women on a string. I cut the rope and have stayed away from dating ever since.”
Thomas tried to suppress a relieved smile.
“Men can be jerks. I’m sorry about that.”
“I know not every guy is a jerk. Thank you for talking with me, Thomas. I’m really nervous about today. I guess I’ve always felt alone and out of place, and now I’m about to find out if there’s anyone else out there like me.”
“What do you mean?”
Cassandra poured out her entire story. The struggles of being adopted. The constant worry of hurting her adoptive mother.
“I can’t even fill out medical history information when I go to a doctor. I don’t know if there’s heart disease, breast cancer, mental illness, or anything else in my background. I don’t know if I’m some sort of genetic time bomb about to blow up. What if there’s something I could pass on to my future kids? There’s so much stress and so many unknowns.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had that weight on you all this time. I guess I’ve taken all those things for granted.”
“You’re one of the few people I’ve ever said any of this to. I have a few friends at work who know, and my college roommate knows, but I never felt safe talking to anyone about it when I was growing up.”
“Today you get a lot of those questions answered. That will make you feel better.”
“Yes and no.”
“Why no?”
“I’ll have to decide whether or not I let my adoptive family know. I’ll break their hearts if I tell them. If I don’t tell them, I’ll still be living a life of lies. There’s no way out of my problems.”
“I know we just met, but I want you to know you can always talk to me.”
Cassandra wiped a tear away. “That means more than you know. I’ve felt alone and guilty for feeling this way my whole life. It’s nice to have someone who wants to listen.”
“Soon you’ll at least have some answers to go off of. The rest will sort itself out.”
Hating to see her forlorn, he tried to change the subject by pointing at a well-known restaurant. “That place has a waiting list to get in a mile long. I’ve been told the food isn’t even all that good, but everyone who is anybody has to be seen there.”
“I’m not really into status symbols. I’d rather have a quiet dinner someplace where I don’t have to worry about which fork to use.”
“You and me both.” He paused. “If this is out of line, let me know, but would you want to have dinner sometime?”
Cassandra’s blue eyes lit up. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”
“Please don’t say anything to anyone at Be Yourself. The boss doesn’t want me fraternizing with his clients. I’m nothing but a blond guy in a suit with a set of car keys as far as he’s concerned.”
“Not a word. Are you going to pick me up after my meeting?”
“Yes. We’re almost there. I’ll be waiting.” He pulled the limo into its reserved parking spot in the garage below the headquarters. “Have fun.”
“I'm a little nervous.”
“You’ll be fine.”
It’s been a while since I’ve felt butterflies about a man. A date will be a bonus to an already exciting trip.” A smile crept across her face.
Exiting the limo, she followed the instructions in the letter she’d received, checked in with the front desk clerk in the main lobby, and was given directions to the corporate office of Elliott Roseman.
“Enjoy your meeting, Ms. Robbins. Mr. Roseman has been expecting you.”
“Butterflies of another kind swarmed through her nervous system as she pushed the elevator button for the 32nd floor of the high rise.
This is really happening. I’m about to find out all the answers to the questions I’ve asked myself since I first realized I was different from the rest of my family.
It was true. She not only looked different, but her whole being seemed different than theirs. She gravitated toward music and art. They were athletic. She had a keen sense of humor, and her laugh was boisterous. Madeline Robbins seldom cracked a smile. Cassandra was on the verge of finding out who she really was. She teetered between euphoria and nausea as she approached Elliott Roseman’s office.
The receptionist, a slim brunette in a smart designer suit, greeted her. “Hello, Cassandra. Mr. Roseman is this way.” Her voice was pleasant but cool.
The woman rapped gently on Elliott Roseman’s door. He opened it with flair, gave the receptionist a knowing nod, and ushered Cassandra into his office.
If the hotel the night before seemed luxurious, it was eclipsed by the opulence of the office where she now stood.
“My, how nice to meet you, Cassandra. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
A little stunned by his interest in her, Cassandra could only reply, “Yes, I’m excited about being in a commercial.”
Elliott Roseman chuckled as he reached under his desk. His long, tanned fingers met the button he sought, and Cassandra heard the clunking sound of the office door locking shut. Startled, she began to speak.
“Not now, Cassandra. Please save your comments until later. You did, after all, come to my office for answers, correct?”
She nodded yes.
“Right then. It’s my turn to speak. You’re wondering why I personally invited you here. Why, out of the thousands of clients who send us their DNA, would I choose you to pamper and bring to my office?”
She sat in stunned silence, her eyes widening as he walked from behind his desk to her. He then took her hand in his, caressing the inside, gently tracing around her fingers. She stiffened and tried to pull away.
“Now, my dear, have you noticed that your fingerprints are unusual?”
Cassandra had wondered why her fingerprints contained a double loop. Her father explained it away by telling her that everyone’s fingerprints were unique. She learned the same in science class and from watching true crime television shows. She’d pushed that mystery to the side, chalking it up to one of the many ways she was not the same as her brothers or parents. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.
Turning his own hand over in hers, Elliott Roseman pointed at his own fingerprints. To her surprise, he, too, had double loops in his.
“Do you know what this means?”
Cassandra’s head slowly turned no.
“It means we are the same.” He clasped her hand and pulled her from her seat. “Come with me.”
He led her across the room to a painting. It stood in stark contrast to the other art in the room. The detailed starscape clashed with the Monet and Degas artwork covering the other walls of the office.
“Do you know what this is?” A small dot, found in the center of the painting’s swirling mass of dots, was directly under his index finger. “That’s home.”
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re into, but I’m leaving.” Cassandra turned to go.
“Good luck with that. The doors are locked. You aren’t leaving. You wanted answers. I’m giving them to you. Now sit back down.” He lifted the chair she’d sat in ever so slightly and slammed it back into place on the carpet.
Cassandra slowly returned to it, grasping the arm of the chair to steady herself. The room spun. What’s happening? She wanted to run, but instead sat frozen in place.
“Now, for a little history lesson. This is nothing you would have learned at Holbrook High School in Iowa.” A chuckle escaped his wet lips as he licked them again.
“How did you--”
“I know all about you, my dear. Now just listen. This is important.”
He pointed at the painting across the room.
“Ten thousand years ago, our ancestors came here looking for a better life, much the same as settlers have throughout the millennia. We thrived for a time, but then war within ourselves weakened our strength, and our people intermingled with others. The Greeks, the Romans, the Germanic hordes. Our civilization was lost. Swallowed whole by the diluting effect of migrations and conquests.”
He rose to get a glass of ice water from the pitcher sitting on the table behind his mahogany desk. He stared at the painting then turned his attention back to Cassandra.
“My family preserved the oral history of our people. Generation to generation learned about the great battles and losses. We learned how our people scattered across this globe. I decided to end the destruction of our people. Do you know how?”
Cassandra nodded no.
He set the glass down and motioned around the room. “By creating this.”
Cassandra began to rise, but he deftly moved across the room, placed his hands on her shoulders, and forced her back into the chair.
“You see, Cassandra Robbins, I knew that mankind was an egotistical lot. Always asking questions. Always fixated on their own being and self-worth. What better way to gather the genetic data needed to track down our scattered people than to appeal to the vanity of humans?”
He lifted a stack of papers from his desk. “These are my prizes. These are the lost descendants of my people who will be used to rebuild our civilization. We will rule this world in time.”
“What does this have to do with me? I really should be going?”
Elliott Roseman laughed. “This has everything to do with you, and you have no way of leaving.”
“The driver is waiting for me.”
Shaking his head, Elliott Roseman said, “Poor Thomas. He should have known better than to become too friendly with you. Sharing all those heartfelt stories of your rural American upbringings. Oh, that was entertaining to listen to as I awaited your arrival here. He had one job to do, and that was to get you here. Nothing more. He’s an unfortunate casualty now.”
She cried out, “Why would you do something to him?”
“He was a useless human boy, Cassandra.” He stepped behind her and played with her hair. “His DNA was, unlike yours, useless to us. There was no place for him in our breeding program. Oh, but you…”
FLY, FLY AWAY
The time has come. I never pictured myself as an Edward Snowden type. You know, the guy who leaked government information, becoming either a hero or a traitor in the eyes of Americans. I, Joe Beeker, have lived an average life, and I thought nothing interesting would ever happen to me. I was wrong.
Sure, I’d played on my high school’s football team when we won state, but the truth is I was a third-string bench sitter. I didn’t do anything to add to the glory of the win. My dad let me know it, too. Still, it worked to get a few dates, and that was good enough for me.
Since high school, I’ve worked one bland bureaucratic job after another, slowly making my way up the Civil Service ranks. The pay hasn’t been bad, but it's hard to impress anyone with tales of paper cuts from file folders or stories about the eye strain I’ve had from staring at my computer screen. In the world of bureaucrats, there are no scars from ACL tears or other war wounds to brag about. I had nothing exciting to impress women with, and I didn’t even impress myself to be honest, so I can’t blame the girls. Let’s just say my dating scene’s been a game of solitaire my entire adult life. Geeky clerks in the Department of Defense aren’t exactly hot items on dating sites.
But none of that means anything. Not after what I discovered. I have to talk about it with somebody. I have to warn you.
On October 23rd, as I did a routine inventory of files in the backroom, I stumbled across something that changed the way I view the world. All the signs have been here for generations, but none of us caught on. The government has kept us in the dark, even while the enemy has lived among us for centuries.
“They” will claim that they did it to avoid mass hysteria. That sounds like a nice gesture, but I don’t believe it. I think they’ve kept us ignorant so we wouldn’t question why they’ve taken away our rights and made decisions for us. It also explains why they and their cronies made money while the rest of us were considered ignorant peons. Big secrets mean big money. The bigger the secret, the bigger the money.
Forgive me if I ramble. There’s just so much to tell.
Have you ever wondered why mega-chemical companies, the ones whose products were proven to cause cancer, have thrived? The makers of all the big insecticides knew their products killed us, but the government never did anything to protect us. Why is that?
Now I know why. I always thought lobbyists had too much power, but it goes beyond pure greed. It has to do with power, control, and fear. It has to do with leaders who want to keep us ignorant so we can’t question if they’re making good decisions for us. A blindfolded populace can’t see what’s really going on.
Have you ever wondered why we were raised to loathe certain things in our world? “Don’t touch that. It might be dirty,” our mothers and grandmothers warned us. We were groomed to hate insects, especially flies, because they were “dirty.” No one moved faster than my grandmother after a fly in her kitchen.
My dog eats God knows what, and he rolls around in all sorts of nasty things he finds, but I was never told to hate my dog. I never really thought about it before, but now it makes sense.
I used to be ignorant. I was blinded by the kind of innocence the powers-that-be hope we maintain. I wasn’t supposed to know any of this, and now that I do, my life is in danger. Before I die or am exiled like Snowden, I have to tell the truth. The public has the right to know. Please listen to me, even if part of you wants to blow me off as some sort of lunatic. I never wanted to be a whistleblower, but here I am. I’m speaking up because someone has to warn you.
I found it by accident when I was cleaning out those files at work. My world view shifted that October day. I was afraid of what I found, but I ferreted the information out under my jacket. It seemed like such a simple way to get secrets out of a government building. I guess I’d watched too many spy movies where suspenseful music played in the background cueing a high-stakes game of cat-and-mouse. In comparison, my experience was humdrum. I stuck the folders under my coat, waved to the receptionist as I left, and that was that.
Don’t think I wasn’t stressed. I shook so badly that I thought someone would notice. How could they not see the fear on my face? The sweat beading on my brow? The squeaky tone of my voice as I squeezed my way onto the elevator and asked to be excused when I bumped into others.
Then I thought about it and realized no one ever noticed me. Why should that day be any different? I could have worn a t-shirt that said, “Hey, Look At Me Stealing These Files,” and I don’t think it would have caught anyone’s attention. Maybe I was born to be a spy. I’ve proven I can do the unthinkable and draw zero attention doing it.
I sat up that entire night, staring at the stack of secrets, about to have a nervous breakdown. I went to work the next day wondering if I’d be arrested by the FBI, but no men in dark suits arrived. Day after day, I went to work and no one noticed that I’d stolen top-secret materials.
It’s taken a few weeks to wrap my head around what I need to do. I considered burning the papers and remaining just another office clerk lost in the stacks of government files. Our lives are at stake, however, so I’ve decided I can’t keep quiet.
It’s too late now anyway, but you should know. I’m not giving this information to today’s version of Julian Assange, a man I personally despise. No, I’m posting this on social media so it can be read and shared by everyday Joes, just like me, Joe Beeker.
I’m leaving this manifesto in case I disappear. Time may run out for me. I don’t know if it’s paranoia or if they really are trailing me. It’s become hard to tell. I may die, but too many of you will now know for them to silence everyone.
But just what do I have to tell you? The rocket is taking off right about now. The die is cast. I need to warn you.
