The Happy Haven by James Gerard (e ink manga reader TXT) 📕

Then again, Bill realized that if a false answer was provided, they would quickly discover it upon the machine’s activation and possibly look to avenge themselves by cutting him out of the loop.  He knew Paul would understand, but Kevin and Terry would definitely see it as deception and a violation of the purposeful rules that were laid out by the discipline of science.  They would simply be outraged by the attempt to pass off fictitious data as fact.

After reconsideration, Bill realized if carried out, that alone would definitely mean an end to his participation in the project.   All perks would be taken away and all promises of substantial payment for services rendered broken. More troubling, the fear of the future and continuing in the field most likely would be eliminated.

“How in the world do I do this?”

Bill reflected on the failed opportunity with Scott.  He abruptly pounded a fist on the table which drew the stares of the scattered customers sitting peaceably about.  In fact, he reasoned, there was no reason for Scott to not answer the question.  It was obvious he had no problem with rejecting everything about his former life.  I should’ve just asked. 

Bill checked the list yet again hoping that one of the resources, one he had yet to consider, would stand out and cede the answer, but that source just was not there.  A long moan sounded throughout the lounge in reaction to just thinking about having to delve deep in any of the remaining resources.  The task was now daunting and paramount to the worse acts of torture and cruelty.

Then unexpectedly, a revelation came to light.  The idea that it all appeared too convenient and reeked with the stench of a filthy plot and of an elaborate joke they had hatched from the beginning so that the burden to deal with the subject would fall laughingly on him.

Bill leapt from the booth and made a mad dash to the sidewalk.  Cars in both directions came skidding to a halt with horns honking and voices shouting profanities as he blindly raced across the street.

The engine roared.  A foot stepped hard on the gas pedal and a hand slammed the stick shift to first.  Screeching tires left behind a trail of smoke.

The Maserati weaved in and out of lanes and ignored the red lights as he raced home.

The vacant basement garage erupted with the squealing of tires as they slipped along the sharp curves. The car skidded to a stop.  The engine ceased.  The vacuous space fell back into temporary silence. 

Darn them,” echoed all around the concrete cavern.  The access card was slapped against the elevator’s panel.

“Those conceded idiots,” he grumbled as the elevator ascended to the top.  “Forget them!”

The door to the suite flew open.  Bill screamed at the approaching women, “Not now.”

The two bare sirens went scampering to the bedroom.

A laptop was flipped open.  It sat idle waiting for a command, but Bill just could not get past the fury that occupied the thoughts.   But with the thought of vindication now brewing in the darkness of the mind, an absolute refusal to allow them to be the victors in their contrived scheme of humiliation, he typed in the name of a book whereby he could take the so-called truth and purposely concoct a lie that would lead them into trouble.  He so wanted to transform their pleasure into pain. 

There had to be just one date, he reasoned, that could be used to fool them.  Skimming through the pages produced vague references to time, but the sheer anger blinded him to ways of how they could be twisted and shaped to represent the lie. 

Worse, Bill found that reading through the narrative there were details that were so exaggerated that he found himself screaming out phrases of disbelief over the outright falsehoods that were being read.  The details were so out of touch with reality.  In utter contempt he slammed the laptop closed and refused to take a second longer looking at it.  And though the eyes were cut off from the material, Bill was uncomfortable with an irksome thought that burned in the memory.

“This is so stupid,” he shouted.

Bill tore off a sheet of paper from a small pad and grabbed a pen.  The point of the pen pressed hard against the paper as purposeful words were scrawled down with a harsh message advising them that in two days he would be coming in.  He gave no details either way as to the answer to their stupid question.  There was no indication that he was aware of the joke that was intended to make him act the fool.  He did not even give them an ultimatum for them to ponder over and utterly reject.

The note was sealed onto the page of the magazine and the surrounding paper sealed.  The magazine was shoved into the cellophane sheathing and the final seal applied.

The young women’s enticing moans from behind the bedroom door was ignored as he bolted out the suite.

“Come on,” was shouted over and over as the elevator descended slowly to the basement garage.

The engine reached a piercing pitch.  Bill released the clutch and threw the shift stick to reverse. A foot slammed the accelerator.  The car peeled out and with a yank on the steering wheel spun around to the exit and screamed out onto the street.

“Out of the way,” was shouted while the car erratically veered in and out of lanes.

The speed limit and traffic signals stood as no barriers to the steaming anger brewing through the thoughts.  Eyes were blinded by sheer rage.   Common courtesy disappeared as the Maserati came close to clipping every car on the road.

The coffee lounge on the right, the magazine stand to the left came into view.  The steering wheel was yanked to the left.   The brake pedal was slammed sending the car skidding into the curb.  Bill flew out of the seat.  The few pedestrians were pushed aside as he scrambled wildly to the stand.

He froze just inside the entrance.  A quick glance revealed the cashier quietly at work restocking some of the magazines while a few customers stood idle about the racks.  He raced down the center aisle where the magazine was slammed into its slot.

Bill glared at the magazine.  Devilish imaginations filled the mind.  Delight over knowing they would surely send shouts of protest demanding an explanation for his message proved joyous.  He knew the message would be viewed with blinded eyes.

Swearing to forego the protocol set down by the group’s representative, Bill marched out of the shop.  And as far as the representative goes, considered Bill, he too can go jump off a cliff.

In two days, against the plan concocted by Kevin and Kenny, Bill was intent on personally delivering an answer they never expected.

“No,” Bill shrieked.  “In fact, leave.  Just get out!”

The ladies spontaneously screeched out their objections in stereo.   Bill pressed hands to the ears in an attempt to muffle each of their heated arguments over losing the substantial compensation that had been agreed to.  In the agreement, the ladies were well aware that if they did not fulfill their obligations for the entire thirty day period, all compensation would be forfeited.

“Shut up!” Bill howled.  “I’ll pay you myself!”

The women ceased the ranting and raving.  Bill ran into the bedroom and tore one of the French doors off its hinges.  Fingers clutched the knob as the mind struggled to retrieve the combination to the vault from memory. Finally it came to mind.  The dial was spun back and forth.  The door was cracked open.   He rushed in and yanked two large leather bags off a shelf.  One of the bags hit a small, wooden case spilling gold coins and gold bars onto the carpeted floor.  The gold was trampled as he stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the bags to the carpet.

“There’s two hundred and fifty thousand each for you there—satisfied?”

The women screamed in glee.

“Out now!”

“But we're not dressed.”

“I don’t care.  Just grab your clothes and get out of here.”

“We’re not leaving the apartment naked,” one of young ladies responded.

“You can get dressed in the elevator.  Besides, not that you would have ever noticed, but we’re the only tenants in this building.”

The women obliged by scampering into the bedroom and emerged with clothes in hand.  After they had grabbed their bags of cash, Bill rushed them out the door and to the elevator.

As the women dressed, more anxiety rushed into Bill’s mind and tightened the muscles throughout the body at the sound of giggles and chattering about their unexpected wealth.   Worse, he found while pacing in front of the elevator doors, his appetite for the sinful pleasures had diminished.  In fact, the acts had vacated the thoughts completely.

Mental nausea hit the mind as he stared at the women struggling to dress in the tight area of the elevator.  He wondered what motivated them to engage in activities filled with nothing but carnal pleasures and how the situation was treated as just an ordinary, everyday thing that everyone participated in.  Then again, Bill knew all he had to do was look at himself for the answer.

He mulled over that the answer.  It was the cash in the bags.  The money was of such a vast amount that it could be used to purchase all hia wants and desires of the world.  He knew he was no better than the two young women.  Bill stared at them and quickly realized that the quest for the ultimate machine, how the representative had lured him in with the promises of untold riches, had him enter the realm of whoredom willingly.  However, this sudden revelation did little to smother the anger fuming inside.         

The doors slid open.  Bill pointed to the open glass doors where the doorman stood with a smile.  “You’re free,” he said.   

“But how do we get home?” one asked as she stepped into the lobby.

Bill was about to spew out a tirade laced with hateful words, but the tongue was silenced before the thoughts could escape.  A wiggle of the fingers motioned the girls back into the elevator.  He slapped the access card to the control panel and pushed the button for the basement.

The elevator doors again opened.   He handed a set of keys to one of the ladies, “There’s your ride home, take it.  If you can profit from it, by all means do so.”

Without a word, the young women went screaming towards the Maserati.  A short-lived scuffle for the keys ensued.  Bill was about to rush up to them and snatch the keys away, but then words whispered between them as they were poised to strike out at each other settled the fight.  They threw the bags of cash in the back and hopped in, fired up the engine, and sped away.  Once the car disappeared from view, Bill returned to the suite.

Confusion and anger returned in a flurry.  Then survival instinct unexpectedly screamed out to flee, to take up Scott’s advice and voluntarily terminate his end of the contract.   Feet shuffled and frantically paced back and forth.  Whisperings haunted the mind, spoke against the decision, and served as a reminder that to simply walk away was not going to be tolerated. 

“If I could only…he’s going to have me eliminated.” whispered Bill.  A hysterical laugh raised the tension.  An irksome thought sounded over