The Grid

PART 1

Homeward

CHAPTER 1

It wasn’t until they were six hours west of New York City that Alexander Hauser allowed himself to relax a little in his rented Ford Focus. The tightness in his chest subsided, and his eyes quit darting up at the rearview mirror at regular intervals. The snores of his friend, Peter, in the passenger’s seat were a rhythmic accompaniment to the rustic countryside outside Pittsburgh. His sister, Caroline, slept soundly in the backseat, reminding him of car trips his parents took them on when they were children—to Silver Dollar City, Six Flags, St. Louis—the normal family trips for people from Southern Missouri. He still struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that his little sister, Caroline, was safe and in his care. She’d been missing for a decade up until ten hours ago when she miraculously appeared at the loft in Tribeca where he and Peter were staying. If he thought too hard about the metaphysical aspects of the so-called grid her mind used to find him, it made his head ache. No time for that now. Nor was there time to think about her homeless friend, Jim, and how he claimed to connect with Caroline’s mind while she was locked away in that place. That place…

It occurred to him to pull over and call the NYPD, the FBI, the CIA, or some other authority who could investigate the facility where she was held in Midtown Manhattan. He’d have to use a pay phone because he’d destroyed his Blackberry in the city. He didn’t want to be tracked through the device.

He decided against calling anyone; he didn’t think anyone would believe him, at least not yet. He needed to prepare his case lest he sound like a madman.

He wouldn’t allow himself to ponder the logistics of justice just yet, or the fact that he was angry beyond words, yet elated on the level of euphoria to have his sister back. The satisfaction he felt in seeing her again was only surpassed by the happiness he knew their dad would feel as soon as they got home to Missouri. First things first, he thought, as he pulled into the parking lot of a roadside diner. It was a phrase their mom often said. He sighed deeply, wondering if he should tell his sister at the diner that their mother was dead. Caroline was frail and shaken; he wondered if she’d be able to handle the news. Their mom’s recent suicide was partially due to depression over Caroline being gone. If only Mom held on a little longer, he thought. This was another thing he’d have to think about later.

CHAPTER 2

Before entering the diner, Caroline covered her shaved head with Peter’s bright red Cardinals sock cap. With her baldness, pallor, baggy clothes, and small frame, an outside observer might think she was undergoing chemotherapy. Without saying so, Alexander and Peter were both disturbed by her appearance. There were distinct indentations covering her entire scalp where the electrodes had been placed. The dark circles under her eyes contrasted greatly with her pale skin, and her thinness was pronounced, seeming to exacerbate the curvature in her upper back. The scoliosis she’d been born with.

When they sat looking at their menus, Alexander noticed a confused look wash over her face. Are you hungry? he asked.

Starved. I just can’t believe it… that I’m actually here. I mean, sitting here at a diner. I used to love diners. Like the Veselka. Her voice sounded weak and hesitant as if she were getting used to hearing herself speak again.

It’s hard not to love diners when you live in New York, Alexander intoned. He recognized the one she just mentioned. The Veselka was a twenty-four hour place in the East Village. He remembered eating pierogies there after getting drunk at bars with his friends. How odd, he thought, that he and his sister liked the same diner.

She looked up at him with widened eyes, making him realize that she knew nothing about the years he lived in New York City, or about his life in general. She’d slept for most of the trip, curtailing the chance for conversation.

After college I lived on the Upper West Side for a while, Alexander said. That was before Tracy and I moved to Westchester. Do you remember Tracy?

She nodded, as she pictured the smart, pretty girl with long curly brown hair that her brother dated in high school and college, and eventually married.

We didn’t want to raise our daughters in the city. Oh, we have two daughters.

Two daughters, she uttered in a tone of wonderment.

Emma is seven and Sarah is three. I guess we have a lot of catching up to do. I wish I had photos of them on me.

That would have been cool.

She asked Peter, Do you live in the city?

No, I only arrived last night, he replied with a slight smile, thinking how odd it was to fly to New York for the first time one evening, only to drive home to Missouri a few hours later.

You’re probably wondering what we were doing in Tribeca, said Alexander. That was my friend’s loft where you found us.

Before he could explain further, a plump, friendly waitress came by to take their orders. After she was out of earshot, Alexander continued, Before I say anything, I have to tell you some unfortunate news. You see, you were missing for ten years so we all thought you were… you know, not coming back. Ever. I know that sounds harsh.

Her gaze trailed out the window as a dejected look washed over her face. No, I understand. Ten years is a long time… I can’t believe I’m thirty two.

Well, last summer mom committed suicide. She’d been really depressed, and I guess she never got over you being gone.

Caroline looked at him blankly then sighed deeply. She uttered in a flat voice, I know. I mean… I knew this would happen even from before. Back when I still lived on the Lower East Side.

Alexander and Peter exchanged a quick glance; this was not the reaction they had expected. They both wondered to what extent her mind was damaged, and how long she’d continue to make disjointed statements like that. Alexander realized early on that Caroline’s mind was in some sort of fog because she didn’t seem to remember that her old friend, Jim Naughton, was with them at the loft. Jim held her hand and talked to her about how pleased God was with her and how she was safe now. In Alexander’s view, it was more like Jim rambled on about things he had no business saying, convincing Alexander to get that weirdo out of their lives forever. Jim may have been instrumental in getting Caroline back, but Alexander didn’t care. He sent Jim out on the street with a dose of barbiturates injected into his neck. Then he called the cops so they could see him for what he truly was: a drug-addled psycho.

Despite all of Jim’s hyper rambling to Caroline, she didn’t mention him once after he’d gone away as if she were still asleep when he was there. The fact that she could hardly move or speak when she first arrived indicated how altered her state of mind was. Alexander was grateful that Peter respected his wishes to not mention anything about Jim—to just let him fade away into the background like a bad dream.

I just remembered something, she said as her eyes filled with tears. I thought you were all gone. Years ago, I was warned with a vision that she might be shot with a gun. But when I was away, I had a feeling, or I believed that Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident. And you weren’t there… I was an only child. I didn’t have a brother.

There was a pause as Alexander and Peter pondered what she’d just said.

I was very sorry to hear about your mom, said Peter, breaking the silence at the table. But the irony is that this tragedy started up conversation between Alexander and I about finding you. We hadn’t spoken in years, not since around ‘91. We both figured out there was more to your story than you just disappearing for no reason. Actually, Alexander did most of the work. He’s the computer hacker genius.

Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, said Alexander. He leaned forward and continued in a low voice, Put it this way. I have a colleague in DC—a very good friend of mine who shared some classified information with me about people with hyper sensory skills. He said he heard they were being kidnapped by the government and used for their abilities. It just occurred to Alexander to tell his old DC friend, Charles Forrest, that Caroline was safe. Then he started to worry; in Charles’ text from last night, he mentioned that the lock on his apartment door in DC had been tampered with. Must follow up with him later, he told himself.

Hyper sensory skills? Caroline said a bit too loudly.

What I mean is, I remember you told Mom there was some scary, metaphysical stuff going on in your apartment. Like it was haunted or something.

Caroline nodded.

We didn’t understand what you were talking about at the time, but after talking to my friend Charles, I wondered if this had anything to do with the private investigator’s report saying you were worried about so-called men in black lurking around your apartment. Mom and Dad hired some private investigators who happened to speak to your friend Ricki. He said something about the men in black.

He did?

Yeah, he said you mentioned to him that you were afraid of them.

She searched her memory. A flash of sitting on a street corner in the hot sun with three men entered her mind. Two of them homeless, and another one a former rock star of sorts. What else did the report say?

"Not much. They spoke to your landlord and another tenant. Some guy who lived next door to you. No one was very helpful. The general consensus is that you just disappeared. Do you remember what happened?"

Caroline gazed out the window again with a distant look to her eye. She shook her head slowly. I don’t remember how they got me. How William Sen got me.

It’s okay, said Alexander. Maybe it’ll come back to you later.

Their food arrived, and they ate in silence, each wondering if her life would ever go back to normal. And if so, how?

Alexander felt like the struggle was only beginning because now they had to seek justice for the years Dr. Sen robbed from his sister. He had no idea how he’d fare against a clandestine, governmental entity, but this is what his life was about now. He felt like a knight going into battle against a dragon.

CHAPTER 3

Peter took the wheel while Alexander sat in the passenger’s seat. Caroline went to sleep in the backseat. They were driving through the flat expanse of Indiana’s corn country. The signs for small towns they passed reminded Alexander of why he left the Midwest. He and Caroline were always inspired to do and see more than what their small town of Helman, Missouri, had to offer. Peter’s living situation in Columbia, Missouri, was a little more understandable as a Geology professor at the University of Missouri. Columbia was a beautiful little city that had a nice positive college town vibe. When he and Peter were younger, they would regularly go spelunking there in the nearby caves with their caving crew.

Thanks for letting us go to your place, said Alexander.

Anything to help.

It’s funny how I didn’t anticipate how important that would be—having a neutral place to land that’s unknown to Dr. Sen. I think it’s because I was focused only on getting her back.

Me too.

I hope they’re not doing fucking surveillance on my Dad’s house. You can’t put anything past those people after what they’ve done.

True. Do you really think they’d try to get her again?

Who could possibly know?

Alexander was actually thinking that they would most likely not go after her again. It wouldn’t exactly be feasible once he went public with her ordeal. The lives of everyone in his family would never be the same, but that was irrelevant considering the gravity of the situation.

It’s crazy, isn’t it—that I flew in with all that rappelling equipment that we didn’t even use.

I never thought in a million years she’d just show up like that.

Thank God we didn’t have to risk getting arrested breaking and entering.

Alexander drifted off to sleep and dreamt about the time thirteen years ago when he and Peter were in the spelunking club. This was before he was mad at Peter for hanging around his little sister; she was a senior in high school while Peter was in college. In the dream, Alexander was rappelling downwards into a black abyss. The rumble of an underground river grew deafening as he moved lower. He panicked. His equipment was stuck and he felt abandoned by everyone. Then out of the darkness, a hand pulled him up into the light where he was able to crawl out of the craggy opening into a sunny field of grass. It was Peter at his side, smiling his impish grin that made most females, including Caroline, fall in love with him. The field flickered for a moment, revealing a red grid-like structure pulsating underneath reality. Peter’s smiling face transformed into three pale faces looking forward and sideways. His brown wavy hair became fire as he threw his head back and screamed a lion’s roar as the fire expanded around him.

CHAPTER 4

Dr. William Sen sat at his desk rereading one of Caroline’s journals—an old one from 1996. It was the year they married, although they hadn’t actually gotten married. He implanted the idea in her head—an event he’d always perceived as his first real step into the realm of darkness. One could argue it was cruel to make her believe her deepest desire—for unconditional love from a handsome, intelligent man who appreciated her intellect. But it was easy for Sen to overlook this considering he was the only one who read her journals, the window into her thoughts. There was no one else to judge.

She’d been his first subject, and the most interesting one to date because of her constant output of information via writing in her journal. Not all of it was useful, but the information often startled him with its randomness and clarity. Her special gift was the ability to go deep into a trance-like state with a combination of light synchronization therapy and medication. She saw the future, or parallel presents, sometimes as a passive observer and sometimes from the point of view of different individuals. Sometimes she slipped into the points of view of people that had seemingly nothing to do with anything significant at all. And it was all recorded in her journals as she remained stationary in a chair, her body inert but active, mentally living a life of freedom with her husband. Half the time she was unaware of whether or not she was awake or asleep.

Such a sensitive soul, Dr. Sen thought. Always scribbling in her diary like a school girl because she had no one to talk to. He didn’t understand why she’d been so alone. Usually beautiful young girls just out of college feel like they have the world at their fingertips. But not her. Hardly anyone noticed when he and his men obtained her from her studio apartment ten years ago. They let themselves in wearing mirrored sunglasses and flashed the lights in her eyes before she could even react. She was stunned as she sat writing at her desk and remained frozen as they packed up her journals and some of her clothes. The entire process took less than fifteen minutes.

After she disappeared from the facility, panic struck. Dr. Sen was instructed by his superiors to immediately get rid of the orderly staff in the usual fashion. Within an hour, the trucks arrived and men expertly packed up every subject, piece of equipment, and piece of furniture. Everything was transported to an even larger and more elaborate underground facility in Wyoming. After his arrival there, he was outfitted with an entirely new medical staff that would never require a routine mind sweep if they happened to leave the facility. The disposable quality of the ex-cons they trained to be orderlies in New York was now undesirable. Mind sweeps were now viewed as too risky, and would only be used if absolutely necessary.

Dr. Sen sat in his new office still stunned by the visit he’d had that morning from the two generals from Washington. He thought for sure punitive action would take place against him considering the recent, unprecedented breach in security at the New York facility. It was quite the opposite. They’d been tracking his progress with his formula for years and were interested in what they phrased a more specialized application of his findings. Dr. Sen’s superiors in Washington were now fully convinced that his subjects had the potential to become reliable sources of intelligence, particularly when swayed toward certain areas of interest. The results surrounding 9/11 were overwhelmingly impressive, albeit not impressive enough to have thwarted the attacks. Despite this, the agency wanted to move forward in funding Sen’s initiative with another agenda in mind.

Sen was wary of the prospect of aligning himself and his subjects with offensive military force. The guiding principle of his research and work over the past twenty years had always been obtaining intelligence to prevent violence. But when he voiced misgivings over their plan, the generals made it very clear that he was already involved. The clandestine nature of his facility was rife with vile human rights abuses of a nature most Americans would find punishable by death. Sen could not in good conscience disagree with this statement, forcing him to lapse into sullen silence as the two generals took turns telling him what changes would take place concerning protocol. This was when they called in Dr. Helen Gable. He noticed her walk in earlier with the men. He thought she might have been an assistant of