She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,104

Do you think you can do that?”

My head was pounding. The headache had started behind my left eye and grew from there, reaching out with exploratory fingers. The shaking of my hand had migrated south to my leg. I forced it to stop jumping under the conference table. I thought about the small fifth of Captain Morgan spiced rum in my dresser back home, the one Gerdy had swiped from Willy’s party a while back. I wondered if Willy had found that one.

“Yes sir,” I said, although somehow I already knew I would never set foot in Brentwood High School again.

Log 08/08/1993—

Interview with Dr. Helen Durgin. Subject “D” within expected parameters.

Audio/video recording.

“Tell me about Edward ‘Jack’ Thatch,” Subject “D” said.

“What would you like to know?”

“Why do they allow him to keep seeing Stella?”

“Because she wishes for it. His visits are a form of reward.”

“A reward? Like a dog gets a treat when it rolls over?”

“I suppose something like that,” Dr. Durgin replied.

“And my reward has been what? More time in this box?”

“You see Stella, too. You received books and music. An education.”

Subject “D” laughed at this. “You realize I never once met any of my teachers? They sit on the other side of the glass while I’m in here. They read to me from textbooks, answer my questions around that ridiculous delay. I’ve never been told their names. I never see their faces. They don’t praise me when I excel or criticize me when I fail. I could close my eyes and take a nap. I imagine they would go right on reading, lecturing, one eye on the clock and the other on the door, but unwilling to look at me. None of them really care about me any more than you do. I’m just a lab rat to you. The afterthought of some long-ago experiment gone awry. I’m a happy side effect living to fill your journals, your tapes, clean up their mess.”

“You’re dangerous. You need to be contained.”

“I suppose. Containment can be a funny thing, though. Do you understand the basic principal of a pipe bomb?”

Dr. Durgin said nothing.

“A pipe bomb uses a tightly sealed section of pipe filled with an explosive material. The containment provided by the pipe itself means a simple low explosive can be used to produce a relatively large explosion. You see, the containment causes increased pressure, amplifies the destructive power. If you put a bomb in a box, the resulting devastation will be far worse than if you set off the same bomb in the middle of an open field. I’ve been in my box for a very long time, Doctor.”

“Stella is also in a box, albeit, a much larger box.”

“Why isn’t Thatch in a box of his own?”

Dr. Durgin did not respond.

“He doesn’t deserve Stella,” Subject “D” said. “Hand me that glass of water.”

Without hesitation, the doctor did as she was told.

—Charter Observation Team – 309

11

“Well, ain’t that some shit.”

Preacher parked his black Pontiac GTO in his usual spot on Willock Road and walked up the steep hill to Brownsville Road, then down the block to Krendal’s Diner, what remained of Krendal’s Diner. The picture windows were covered in large sheets of plywood. The glass door had been replaced with a large steel monstrosity secured with a padlock. A sign was bolted to the center of the door at eye level:

CONDEMNED

This Structure Is Declared Unfit

For Human Occupancy Or Use.

It Is Unlawful For Any Person To

Use Or Occupy This Building

Any Unauthorized Person Removing This Sign

WILL BE PROSECUTED

Preacher’s first thought at reading this sign was the poor use of grammar. Conjunctions should not be capitalized. Preacher’s second thought when reading this sign, when taking in the entirety of the destruction upon which it was attached, was, what the hell happened?

He ate here the day before the Gargery woman’s funeral—steak and eggs—his usual.

He ran his finger along the edge of the metal window frame, his gloved hand coming away with soot. He made it a point to be informed. He did not like being uninformed.

With the death of the Gargery woman, he had no longer been required to make monthly deliveries of cash to the boy.

That was good.

That was real good.

Because it left time for other jobs.

He avoided this armpit of a city for three and a half months. He liked to stay on the move, a change of scenery. He liked to get his hands dirty, and this Pittsburgh job had been beneath him from the get-go. This hands off, observation only, delivery-boy bullshit