"What are the odds that they'd be chasing after you guys instead of after me, I wonder," he said, almost to himself. I looked at his hand and saw that he was clacking some dice against each other nervously. He pulled out a granola bar from his jacket pocket, opened it, and ate it as if he was afraid it would be the last meal he'd ever get a chance to eat.
He sighed. It was a heavy sigh that seemed to say that he had a story that he'd told to others before but they hadn't believed him, or perhaps he'd scared someone off because of the reasons people might be chasing after him. Maybe he'd lost someone, too, or someone had left him, worried that he'd end up hurting them with whatever secrets he kept to himself. I was really just projecting my own doubts, fears, and problems onto him. I had no idea about him, really. For all I knew, he was a serial killer and he'd chop us into small parts and leave us scattered around the forest floor.
"How about you go first, Hunter," I said. "You know a little about us and what we're doing, but we don't know anything about you at all. Why would someone be chasing after you… and shooting at you?"
"I'll need one of those cigarettes, probably," he said to me, putting the dice back into his pocket. "And no interruptions once I start." He looked over to Janine, making sure that she was still asleep.
"Once upon a time," he started, "I shopped the world by catalog and shopping mall for all sorts of useless crap that I thought would make my life more interesting, more entertaining, and more impressive to anyone who came along and inspected it, but I never really thought about how everyone else was doing the exact same thing as I was, and no one was taking their head out of their ass for long enough to notice anyone else's collections of absolutely useless junk – except for those few occasions you'd notice that someone had something that you didn't have and that you envied. It was a repeating cycle of economic roulette, and before I realized it, I'd amassed a tremendous collection of useless junk and the debt to go along with it. It surrounded me in all of my rooms, but I'd never enjoyed any of it. I worked in a concrete block and every now and then, I wondered what the real world outside looked like; it seemed like I hadn't seen the sky in my entire life.
"I thought about the way we embrace retail therapy for a long, long time. I'd get depressed about the status of the economy, or worry that a new tax would make my mortgage would go up a few bucks a month, or get stressed out if I made a late payment on a credit card, which I did, causing my rate to go up a couple of percentage points. I was becoming anxious over thoughts about America's place in the global society, worrying about how a lot of people out there didn't like us. I'd complain about the path that our leaders were taking us on, just like everyone else did, following the herd, staying distracted. Every day, I'd drive to work, listening to the news and talk radio stations while the announcers spread strongly biased opinions like a blanket over the air and throughout the city, never saying anything unless it was something incendiary. I felt like everything I was exposed to was intended to cause a reaction, and all of that frustration and anger was pooling up with no good outlet until it was ready to boil over. I considered rioting and petitioning, just like everyone else, but kept following the unspoken orders just like everyone else. At the end of the day, before I popped a pill to help me sleep, I couldn't say why any of it was significant to me. Why does any of that shit matter, you know, man? We're all angry, and we're all scared to speak to each other, these days. I started to feel manipulated, like a puppet. I started to feel like a disposable number, unable to shake those feelings of insignificance.
"And I felt like that every day. I'd wake up and be a cog in the machine for more hours than I should have after slamming a couple of cups of coffee. I'd spend as much time in the car as I did sleeping, and the highlight of my day was prime time television. Sure man, I had great dental and medical, but I had to use them all the time because I was so unhealthy. I was always making myself sick, probably because I was getting so bored and unhappy with living. I needed a change. I needed to know why I felt so compelled to be a part of all of the nothingness, day in and day out."
I could see that Hunter had been chewing through those thoughts for long enough to digest them, and I remembered a time when I would dwell on things just like what he was saying, but since a reason to change had come along for me - Corentine - none of those kinds of issues had mattered much to me anymore. Maybe being in love was like wearing a thick pair of glasses, making everything fuzzy, distorted, and prone to making you feel butterflies in your stomach. You run into a lot of walls, but you don't really mind because it's kind of funny. Maybe being in love had been a barrier for me, blocking me from the reality that Hunter had been living in, insulating me from it, minimizing my exposure and irritation with it.
"So instead of rioting against all of it, I bought into the system," he continued. "I invested heavily in stocks, bonds, and savings accounts. I lied to card companies about my income so they'd grant me generous lines of credit. I became more and more focused on finding the exploitable holes in the financial network. I'd never considered using my knowledge about computers and security systems to hack teller machine systems or break into banks until then, but suddenly, even that made sense, seemed logical, and no longer seemed like I would be doing something wrong. It all seemed like victimless crime, and I started honing my skills so that I'd never get caught.
"I dismissed the programming I'd been fed since I was a kid about honor and legality. I cleared out a few ATMs to see if I could get away with it. I took regular cash advances from the cards that I never intended on paying back. When my market investments made some gains, which were really just a lucky break, I pulled everything out. I hadn't made a house payment in months."
...So he wasn't as honorable and we might have thought he was when he'd offered us the ride the night before. I put myself into his place. If I had the same set of skills at my disposal as he seemed to have when I was at my worst point, I'm sure that I would have done the same thing. I probably would have ripped off an ATM just so I could go blow the cash gambling or at a strip club. I wasn't the model for morality, I knew it, and I was glad that he was there to help us. It didn't matter what anyone's moral standing was about the system, did it? We had to do whatever we could to save Cor, and as far as I was concerned, if Hunter could help us get there, or even get us inside of the Synchro labs somehow, I didn't care what his motivations were. The rules were different than they'd ever been before.
He continued his explanation about why he was on the road.
"I was learning when to walk away, maybe. I bought the RV and I started out on the road. Last night, I met you guys and I felt like I'd discovered a couple of people who had a reason for being out here, traveling with a purpose. I didn't really believe you guys at first, what with the whole corporate abduction thing and all, and I'm still not convinced that we're not all insane, but it's exactly what I've been looking for – a reason that's legit in a world full of bullshit."
He waited, then, long enough for me to realize that he expected a response, though I was quite focused on what he had been saying and kind of wandering off mentally in directions that spun off from his monologue.
"But now you want out," I restated, reminding him that he'd told me he was leaving us just a few moments ago.
"I don't know what I want; I'm mixed up and tired, just like you guys. I'm being emotional and it's a bad combination. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that I like you guys, but don't keep me around if I'm just pissing you all of with my curiosity and confusion. If somebody's after me for the things I've done, you could be in danger, though, so if you guys want to head out without me, I understand."
"We survived an RV wreck last night," I said. "I think danger follows us. I'd like it if you stayed with us. I feel like we're going to need some help to get through this, especially if I ever want to see my girlfriend again."
He held out his hand and I took it into mine, shaking it.
"I've felt like everyone and everything that I know has been r
eally superficial and shallow before, just like you have," I said. "It comes and goes in phases, though, and I've been distracted for a little while now by my own strange problems."
I realized that I had stopped feeling the way he did when she'd come into my life, because it was almost as if a new substance and sense of reality had been applied to everything that I knew, and everything that I saw was suddenly full of more depth and texture; like a deep gloss coat had been applied to a fine grain of wood, when the sunlight strikes the surface in such a way that it looks golden, when previously there had only been press-board and plastic.
Janine stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"Getting the low down?" she asked, yawning and stretching.
"Working on it," I answered. "Do you need a recap?"
"Oh, no. I've heard it all already." She scratched her side, and then stood up, stretching again. I wondered when she'd had a chance to talk to him. "Getting in a car chase doesn't seem all that crazy when you're hanging out with people who are dealing with brainwashing, corporate espionage, and potential goons from the past who aim to collect on outstanding debts," She laughed.
I wished I could have some of her mirth.
"We have to figure out what we're going to do about transportation," I changed the subject. I wasn't in the mood for any more heady topics in which we shared our pasts with each other. "The RV is pretty much useless to us. I doubt that we can tip it back off of the incline that it's on to get it off of that tree, and even if we could, it looks like we broke an axle when we fell into the ravine."
Hunter chuckled.
"She's pretty busted up, all right," he said. "But we made it all the way down here in one piece, so she did all right."
"I'm sure that we'll be able to call a cab and a tow truck from the Synchro labs once we get there," Janine stated.
"Except that they don't know we're coming and probably don't want us there in the first place," I reminded her. "Best case scenario is that we can get in under the guise of being reporters or something, do some snooping around, and maybe find someone willing to help us out. After that, we're going to have to be pretty sneaky and inventive."
Hunter looked at me as if I was stupid.
"What?" I asked.
"Seriously?"
"Better suggestions, then?" I asked.
"Why don't we pay someone to give us the information?" he suggested.
"We can't just bribe someone to talk!" Janine insisted.
"Well, just so you guys know where I stand, I think that asking them is the easiest answer. If that fails, we can fall back to your plan of sneaking in."
"I can't commit to the direct approach in this case, Hunter," I argued. "Think about it. If you were Synchro Systems, would you implicate yourself to the three of us? Of course not! You'd call security and have us escorted off of the premises."
"Then how do you plan on sneaking in and finding the right person to talk to?" He rebutted.
"Force?" I suggested.
"Things are getting out of control if you're planning on resorting to violence, dude," he said, throwing another branch onto the fire.
"Things were out of control long before that option even presented itself," I said.
I thought about his recommendation, and he had a point, but if Synchro knew something about what had happened to Cor and had information or her medical history on file, it might implicate them in having a hand in what caused her amnesia and, more recently, her disappearance. They wouldn't claim to know anything if we asked them through the proper channels, I was sure of it. They'd stick to denying everything, just like they had done when I'd called them so many times before. That's how companies like that work, isn't it? Deny everything, sending all inquiries to the lawyers? It was happening already on a much bigger scale with all of the press and the federal investigations going on. I had no weight at all compared to the kind of leverage the bigger entities could muster and I knew that they were under absolutely no obligation to assist a stranger and two of his friends who walked up to the front desk requesting potentially classified and sensitive information about possible former (or continuing) test subjects. I looked at Hunter and Janine. We all needed a shower after sleeping in the woods for a few hours and hanging out so close to fires, both in the truck and on the ground. By the time that we got there, we'd all be even more disheveled, since we'd probably have to trek a couple of kilometers through the woods to get to the gates of the Synchro complex.
I shook my head.
"It won't work. They won't talk, I'm sure of it," I stated. "We have to find a way to get someone on the inside to talk to us once we're there. Someone's got to be willing to give us the info that we need to find her; someone's bound to know where to look and can quickly find the answers for us. I'm still open to your ideas if you can come up with something more effective," I added.
"What if we make things worse if the wrong person finds out that we're looking for her?" Janine asked, moving closer to the fire.
"What do you mean? They obviously know we're looking for her!" I said, nodding towards the wrecked RV.
"Unless those guys chasing us were after me," Hunter added.
"What I mean is that if Synchro's trying to cover something up, like information relevant to her file, and the wrong person finds out that we're looking snooping into their information, they might make it even harder for us to get to what we're looking for – or maybe they'll erase the data altogether," she replied.
"But if she's one of the test subjects, like Partain suggested to me in the bar, then why would they get rid of her files just because we were asking some questions about her? Surely they'd expect her to interact with people outside of the company once she was done with whatever tests or treatments that they put her through," I argued.
"That's assuming that she wasn't a volunteer," Hunter said.
"We're not really sure what she was, just that she was seeking treatment for her memory loss."
"All that you know is what you experienced with her," Janine said. "She can't remember what happened before then, either, and from what you've told us, her life leading up to when she met you is kind of a blank space that she only recalls fragments of."
"Who would willingly subject themselves to complete memory erasure?" I asked, not believing that it was possible for her to do it. "She wasn't like that. She didn't work that way. She wanted to remember her past, not forget it!"
"Well, Partain claims to have undergone the procedure as well, but arguing about it won't help us get any closer to her," Janine said, sounding resigned. "I hope that they let us use the phone to make those phone calls, at least."
"Anyway, we could steal a car if we had to," Hunter suggested. "I mean, if we can't turn up anything at the labs."
I was a bit surprised to hear the suggestion come from Hunter considering how much he seemed to want to stay off of the radar. Stealing a car would be a quick way to get caught and go to jail, for not only the theft of the vehicle, but also for whatever other crimes he may have been wanted for. A run-in with the law would be a bad way to break his hiatus from society. However, we didn't have a reliable way to get back to the city once we were done at Synchro. The police would only be an issue if they actually caught us.
"At least it would give you guys a way to get back home," he added. It seemed we were on the same page.
I conceded, not wanting to continue debating the point unless we actually had to because the labs turned out to be a dead end. Hunter kicked the side of the RV halfheartedly.
"Sounds good to me!" Janine stretched one final time, stopping to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. ‘The highway's a few kilometers from here," she directed, pointing to her left. "The road up above us should lead to the entrance of the labs, which shouldn't be too far from where we're at now, since we were almost there when we got knocked off of the road."
I hoped that things at the complex would be okay; I was praying to anyone or anything that would listen to me and perhap
s had the power to help us, not expecting an answer, and wasn't surprised when no answer arrived.
I always hated camping as a kid, and our slumber party in the woods only reminded me of that. I remembered all the times I spent in the backyard, at campgrounds, or in random woodsy areas on camping trips with my family or friends when I was younger. I had a renewed appreciation for all things electric, for central heating and air, for microwave ovens, and for showers with unlimited supplies of hot water. The one night was all that it took, really. Though I could appreciate all of those things even more, I also begin to see a new side to the world that I had previously been ignoring; I guess that's what happens when you turn off all the lights and get away from the noise of the city, once you're surrounded by the big emptiness of nature with some friends, huddled around a campfire. Hunter might have been on the right track, after all, even if that track wasn't the one for me.
"Wish I'd brought some marshmallows for breakfast," Hunter quipped.
We all chuckled politely and began gathering our things.
"Did you ever camp out as a kid?" Janine asked us, and I scoffed. "What?" She asked.
"I was just thinking about how much I hated camping when I was a kid, that's all. So I thought it was pretty funny that you'd ask about it. Sure you're not a mind reader, kiddo?"
"Are you sure that you weren't reading my mind first, and that's why you were thinking about it?" she asked.
"I wish one of you guys was a psychic," Hunter threw in. "That way you could tell us what the best candidate for a car donation is." He was really sold on the idea of stealing a car. Maybe once you start stealing things, you can't stop.
It wasn't long before we were on our way again, hiking up a slight grade towards the theoretical location of the research facility. It was still cold, but we stayed warm due to our rapid pace through the forest. We came upon a road that was unpaved and rough, but had been used enough that most of the foliage had been cleared away, replaced with gravel, mud, and tire gouges.