Chapter 89

* Andrews *

“You’ve got the wrong guy. Don’t you people know who I am? Hey, I’m talking to you; answer me, dammit.” They ignored me again like they had the last ten times I said the same. I’ve been repeating that refrain or some variation of it since they threw me back here with cuffs on and no regard for my comfort.

At first, I tried telling myself that it was because of my disheveled appearance that they didn’t recognize me, but then I remembered that they’d called me by name in the alley, and that line of thought went nowhere, but only worked to heighten my fear and desperation.

I was trying hard not to shit myself while worrying about the cameras that were bound to meet us as soon as we reached the station. “Hey guys, give me a break here; you know I’m not good for this; you should be out there looking for the real killer. At least let me get cleaned up before you take me in. I can’t let my fans see me like this.” Nothing, it was as if I wasn’t even there.

I haven’t even had time to digest the fact that Mary was dead because I’d spent the last few days trying to get the hell out of here after hell broke loose, but never in a million years did I think that anyone would suggest I was the one who had taken her useless life. Not that I haven’t thought about it more than once, but who hasn’t?

Surely, I can’t be held accountable for my inner thoughts. Since when is it a crime to kill someone in my imagination? I wish the killer had waited until I was away from this place, or at the very least, if I had known what her end was going to be, I could’ve helped myself to some of the nicer things in her place; I could sure use the money.

Instead, I’m once again left with nothing but a headache, thanks to that sanctimonious bitch. I can’t even come up with a good enough excuse for my association with her or give them a plausible explanation for why I was in her home. No one was supposed to know the truth about our acquaintance because that shit would just open Pandora’s box.

Instead of trying to convince the two morons in the front seat, I tried to think of a way out of this mess, but my mind couldn’t seem to settle on any one thing that could be of help. Fear was the one constant that kept playing around in my head as we drove through the streets, fear and a running loop of memories. Flashes of all the things I had done in the last few years in the name of making it big.

I refused to believe that I wasn’t as good as my sister that I wouldn’t make it in the industry the way she had and, so I never stopped trying for my big break. When it seemed that time was running out for me, that my name would never be a household staple, it had been with some semblance of regret that my thoughts had turned to using my own kid to get ahead.

It’s not like I had forced her; she was the one who came to me with her fascination with Ryder all those years ago. I had just seen an opening, a way to cash in. It was just a thought, just a father trying to give his kid what she wanted. All the other shit that went down was out of my control.

I needed Mary, Scott, and the others to get close to him back then because there was no other way for me. It was then that I realized that I wasn’t as famous, wasn’t as loved as I longed to be. Fucking doormen had laughed in my face back then, treated me like some kind of washed-up has been even and refused me entrance.

It was the same everywhere else in my life and the last straw for me. I’d made one mistake in the past, and the powers that be had cast me aside like trash. I hadn’t done anything worse than any of the others who had come before me, but my only failing had been to get caught.

It had taken my sister’s help, along with a huge chunk of her money changing hands, to keep my faux pas out of the papers, and I thought things would just go back to the way they were; my star was barely on the rise after all. I’d heard enough stories over the years to know how these things worked, but instead, I’d found myself an outcast.

It was as if everyone knew about my little orgy with the not-yet-eligible, not-yet-age-appropriate kids at that party, something I shouldn’t have felt any regret over since everyone else was doing it back then as well, but it was brought home more than ever then that I wasn’t one of them. I could play in their pool, but if I started to drown, I was on my own.

I can still feel the anger and the rejection I felt when I realized it. Once the drugs wore off and the people around me had no use for me, some of them going so far as to laugh in my face and tell me where I was on the totem pole, it was too late; the ride was over.

I’d spent years after that trying any and everything to become significant again. I refused to accept the whispers going around Hollywood that I had only been given my chance because of my sister’s name, that I had never really been one of them. Refused to accept that my dreams were over or that I would be so heavily punished for something that everyone else did.

My younger brother had seen the writing on the wall years earlier and had tried to warn me, but I’d laughed him out of the room just because he was too weak to make it didn’t mean that things would be the same with me. But it wasn’t long before I found myself following in his footsteps and claiming religion.

He’d had a little bit of success with that angle and had even found work through his new scheme, but even that hadn’t worked for me. But at least it had given me an opening and a way into the church. I’d used what little money I had and what I could scrape together from begging and scams to buy my way in, refusing to accept my plight. Even the church didn’t want me; my name wasn’t big enough for me to matter.

But then, just when things were at their lowest, I stumbled upon something that was sure to get me back to where I wanted to be. I’d suspected years ago that things were not what they seemed in this place. Behind the glitz and glamour laid an underbelly of darkness, something I hadn’t fully appreciated because even when my star was on the rise, I hadn’t been privy to that level of acceptance.

It was sheer luck that I had stumbled onto the truth that the parties I’d frequented in the past were just child’s play compared to the ones the elite were invited to, and there was a hell of a lot more going on behind the scenes than I knew. But knowing hadn’t been enough; I needed something else to get my foot in the door.

It was a long shot, but I started thinking and planning until I had some semblance of an idea. So what? I had to use my daughter, my own flesh and blood. She wanted it too, didn’t she? She was the one who had come to me with the obsession that she tried so hard to hide behind mere admiration.

I had seen the same hunger in her that had lived in me for so long. We’d both danced around each other, both using the other for our own gains. She was still young back then but old enough to know that my so-called faith was nothing more than a facade. She got to see the real me behind closed doors after all and knew that my actions were in no way in line with the public persona I tried to sell.

But she hadn’t been much different; hadn’t she, too, tried to pull the wool over my eyes? She would’ve done anything to get what she wanted, going so far as to let herself be passed around at those parties, all in the name of getting close to Ryder, and we’d done it; we’d pulled it off, but she was just too dumb to make it stick, just like her stupid bitch of a mother.

“Hey, Andrews, snap out of it.” I shook my head to clear it and looked around with rising fear as one of the detectives stood in the open car door waiting to help me out. There was no way to fight the panic that arose when he pulled me out, and I’m not sure if I should’ve been disappointed that there was no line of reporters waiting for a hot scoop or relieved that the world wouldn’t get the chance to see me looking this way.

***

* Elena *

I couldn’t concentrate on the set, and it showed. I wish I wasn’t the kind of person who’d worry over her enemy, but I can’t help it. Seeing her like that eliminated some of the anger and animosity I felt towards her; well, sort of. A part of me still wanted her to suffer for what she’d done, but a bigger part of me couldn’t help but feel sympathy towards her.

I guess now that I had my man back, I could be a little forgiving, even though I knew that if the tables were turned, she wouldn’t have given me a second thought. As much worry as I felt, I had no idea what I could do, though, because Ryder was adamant that we were done with her, and the way he looked and acted when he dropped me off, I’m not sure I want to push his buttons.

I guess I haven’t learned my lesson very well because it was exactly this kind of thinking that had led me down the path to destruction before. I knew I shouldn’t get tangled up with the Hudson sisters and any of their affiliates, but because I didn’t want to come across as a bitch, I’d gone against my better judgment, and that had, in turn, set this whole thing in motion.

Still, it’s hard for me to see a human being going through what she was and not feel something. I couldn’t go behind Ryder’s back to help her, and the only person I could trust with something like this was Sydney, and I’m one hundred percent certain that she’d make things worse for Janie if given the chance.

How can I help her? Should I help her? It was hard to know what to do when there was no one to turn to for the answers. All the people in my life that I would usually look to for guidance I was sure, would tell me to let her rot. But as a woman, as someone who knew the inner workings of Hollywood and the darkness that can be found in certain circles, I’m having a hard time just giving up on another human being who was just too weak to withstand their wiles.

I could’ve been where she is had I not seen them before it was too late. The only difference between her and I was that I was lucky enough to see through the bullshit, and I had mom by my side, guiding me away from that life when I got too close to the flames. Ryder himself had been burned, so he should understand and want to help her, but I guess he was too close to the situation and too full of anger and hate right now to see her as anything other than the enemy.

That’s it, isn’t it? I just have to get him to see things from my perspective. I refuse to let us become like them, refuse to be the kind of people who just wash our hands of someone in need, and if I was sure of anything, it was that she needed help.

***

* Lyon *

“Lyon, you’ve got to hear this.” I looked up from where I had been reading over the last report from Thorpe, who had taken the kids we’d rescued on the last mission back to his place to be taken care of before being placed back with their parents.

“What is it now?” Instead of an answer, Mancini clicked a few buttons, and the wall screen came on, showing a view of Mengele and her girls in the lab.

“What are they doing now?” The others in the room, Flanagan and the SEALs, all stopped what they were doing to look at the screen, and I rolled my eyes at the way they all seemed to come to attention like drones.

“Listen, just listen.”

We seemed to have caught the middle of the tail end of their conversation. “If your teacher was a meth addict, you wouldn’t accept anything he said, right. Most people on meth, crack, or heroin have delusions of some sort; some of them even reported visiting other dimensions and having conversations with beings that were not there.”

“What does this have to do with our teachers?”

“Freud, Darwin, Nietzsche, most of the so-called philosophers did heroin or coke, maybe both, and yet they’re still lauded as brilliant minds. If one of those men or women on the street corners of any major city today tried that, they’d be seen as insane; why? The only difference between them and these great men is the fact that they can’t afford their habit while those others could.”

“It’s preposterous to think that one man, any one man or woman, could know the minds of all human beings. He would have had to be omniscient, omnipresent, omni everything for that to be true. So why do people still buy into the ramblings of a coke head? Well, a heroin addict in his case?”

No one spoke as they stared at the screen, but I was wondering what my nut was up to. I have no idea what she was working on since her shit makes my eyes twitch, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good for my ass. Usually, when she goes off on a tangent, there’s some shit coming behind it that makes my life not as pleasant as it was the day before.

Mancini was grinning from ear to ear and tapping away at the keys on his computer. I worry about him. “What’s she on about Mancini?”

“I’m not sure; I think they had a go at the doctor they snatched, and it set her off.”

“Any sign of him on the island?”

“Nope, haven’t seen him, but I’m almost certain he’s there.”

“Why is she on Freud’s ass?”

“I think she’s pissed at psychiatry, let’s listen.” Of course, she’s got it out for psychiatry because she’s fucking nuts. I wish for just one day where she and her little team of rejects weren’t getting up to shit, where they just acted like the little girls they are. She has a whole ass ocean at her front door; can’t she just go take a swim?

I stayed on that island to give her a distraction, but what did she do? She’s turned the damn place into the isle of Dr. Moreau. Ten years 0ld and her mind doesn’t shut off, and thanks to her dear old uncle Hank, she has others who are just like her to help carry out her nefarious deeds.

Each of them is skilled in some shit or the other that they have no business being involved in at their young, tender ages. I wanted so much more for her; I wanted her to do what I did and turn that shit off so she could live a full life. A life not bogged down with the cares and worries of the world, a little selfish, yes, but it was for the best, no?

I’d dropped out of Harvard for that reason and turned it all off, losing myself in something I liked, something that didn’t draw on the brain power that had been the bane of my existence from my youth.

But not my kid; my kid was rushing headfirst into that maelstrom, just ready to take it all on. She’s not like me; she’s stronger and braver than I was at that age. Or maybe she doesn’t have that don’t give a fuck factor that I do. I wish she did, wish with everything in me that she could be spared this.

I looked around at the others, the way they watched the screen, their attention completely focused on her as she paced around the lab she’d conned me into outfitting with the help of her uncles, her little face puckered in concentration, just like her mom does when she’s about to zing me with some shit out of left field.

“This is frustrating and almost certainly debilitating.”

“What is?” Lily and Nia looked up from what they were doing.

“My research has taken a turn I did not expect, though it’s exactly what I suspected. Listen to this and see if you can follow along. In the sixties and seventies, there was something called the era of free love. Before that, there were the two world wars that changed the dynamics of the family and societal structures, but this isn’t about that.”

“Immediately after this period of free love, there was a new phenomenon of men in windowless white vans abducting kids. Kids were being taken from their homes, from parks, school yards, any and everywhere. The thing is, it wasn’t new, but with the advances in technology, news spread wider and faster than at any other time in the past.”

“This, of course, led to fear, so now the men and women who were so-called flower children, who had been raised and did raise their own latchkey kids, were growing more and more aware of the danger to their children, so now, instead of children being left alone, they were subdued in their homes for fear of being taken.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with your research.” Lily kept writing on her computer while Nia was smashing the keys on hers at a rapid rate as she tried to improve her hacking skills. “I’m getting to it; follow the breadcrumbs.”

“So, now we have a generation of children who aren’t allowed to play outside, but kids have lots of energy they need to expend, and they can’t because they’re going from sitting in classrooms all day to being enclosed in the walls of their homes all evening and night until they repeat the same thing the next day.”

“On weekends, the parents who are tired from the work week find their children who have all this energy very frustrating, and that becomes a problem. The pharmaceutical companies convince these parents that their kids have problems, negating the fact that they’re just kids with energy, and so they dose their kids up with whatever synthetic nonsense they came up with to turn the kids into mindless drones, which the parents see as the kids behaving, having forgotten how they themselves were once free before they were fed crippling fear that would never go away.”

“At about the same time they started drugging children, there was a new thing on the rise: video games. Something else to keep children out of their parents’ hair and give the impression that they were well-behaved since they were no longer jumping off of furniture or bouncing off the walls to exhaust their natural energy.”

“The video games became more and more real and, in turn, more violent. So what’s a drugged-up preteen whose only exposure is to these made-up worlds with no other release for his natural growing pains to do? He lives inside of the game, and it becomes part of his reality. But wait, his young mind has been altered, poisoned, by the drugs he’s been on for years to control him and his behaviors.”

“That violence soon leaves the screen and becomes part of their everyday life because they can hardly tell the truth from fiction since these two things, the drugs, and the games, have culminated in a disastrous cocktail. Now, after years, those drugs no longer have the same effect, but the user needs something because he has become an addict, but no one sees it as an addiction because he didn’t buy it off the street corner. It was prescribed by a medical professional.”

“Their own parents fed it to them; their safe space was invaded by the pharmaceutical companies who used their parents’ own hands to bring about the destruction of their own kids. But why? What was their purpose behind this? Was it only money? Or is there something more sinister at play here?”

“Dafuq, Mengele, no!” All eyes in the room turned my way as I watched helplessly as the last vestige of my kid’s innocence evaporated right before my eyes.

“It’s too late, Lyon, you know how she is; there’s no turning back now.”

I nodded silently at Mancini’s words as I felt a tear in the vicinity of my heart. My poor kid. She’s ripping away the bandages without any care for herself. Looking head-on at the dark underbelly of humanity. “She’s already put together the bit about the tunnels, something we didn’t even think about.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What are you two talking about?” Flanagan looked back at the screen where his daughter and mine were diving into things no one their age should even know existed.

“Nothing, the girls are growing up too fast, is all.” Let him have a few more days of peace, at least. His wife was already MIA. Fuck my life.