“Taking a sample,” they said it in unison.
“Why does he need so many samples now, anyway?” June whined as she laid her forehead on the desk. “We haven't seen anything new since the testing was put on hold before the move! And everything was normal then!”
“Calm down. You're makin' dogs howl somewhere.”
“Poor baby,” June reiterated.
The conversation was inane and silly, but it was necessary to relieve the monotony of the everyday routine. Since the DOD had gotten involved and moved the project to Georgia, they hadn't been allowed to leave the facility. Other than monitored phone calls, they had no outside contact except for military and government personnel. They had all manner of game consoles and a well-stocked game library. June had never in her life picked up a game controller, until week five. Now, serious injury would be risked by interfering when she was doing well on Tetris. There was a Blu-ray collection with more than three thousand titles and every satellite channel in existence, though June had blocked a few using parental controls, causing quite a protest from Don. They had a well-stocked pantry and refrigerator, and a cook at their disposal. But the longer they were there, the more cooking they opted to do themselves. There was a pool, hot tub, sauna, and the services of a masseuse upon request. All the comforts of home and then some, just no one else to interact with. In fact, the original team of nine scientists at McMasters had been reduced to five: June and Don, Professor Yeoum Chi, Dr. Juan Tiong, the team’s veterinarian, and Jimmy Bennett.
Jimmy held a master’s degree in computer science and electronic technology, and was responsible for maintaining all of the project’s equipment. He had also written many of the specialized programs needed for the project, making him irreplaceable, though the “powers that be” attempted to do just that on several occasions. Jimmy was a solid team player and co-worker, but he was also good at what he called “sticking it to the man.” As a Canadian, he wasn’t thrilled about working for the U.S. Government, even when it was the Department of the Interior. So when the DOD took over, he considered sabotaging the project outright. June had even been willing to go along with that idea, but in the end Don and the professor talked them out of it. After all, they had all invested too much time and effort not to go forward, regardless of who was paying the bills. That, and an obscene pay increase, had changed Jimmy’s mind. But in the eight weeks since the move he had ruffled more than his share of feathers among the “storm troopers” he had to work for.
And to make matters worse, they weren't allowed to continue their present research. They had repeatedly been told that the next phase of the project was forthcoming, and that the next specimen would arrive soon. It had been bad enough being on hold for two months in Hamilton where they all had homes and lives. But being cooped up in this new lab could get nerve wracking. It was true that the experiment was a success. The results were clear and the science, barring unforeseen events, was proving to have longevity with each sample Doctor Tiong analyzed. But there was no clear answer to the question of the current holdup.
“We were supposed to be gone by now,” June added. “Gone to our new home, away from needles, and sleeping in a real forest. Not a fake one.”
“Are you kidding me? The zoologists in San Diego would give their left arm to have a habitat like we have here.”
She knew it was true. She had to give them credit. They had created an environment in this underground sanatorium that rivaled anything she had ever experienced. The best food, the best care, and all of the people who had access to the animals seemed to genuinely care for them. And the chimps responded favorably to the team as well. All except for Tiong. But he, above of all of them except possibly June, had the animals’ best interest at heart.
Sometimes Juan gets a bad rap. Maybe I should check on his arm. “What time is it?” June asked.
Don glanced at the clock on the wall. “Eight fifty-nine.”
“I guess Juan has started his inventory.”
“Yeah, I think he coerced Jimmy into helping him since the mysterious major isn't here.” Don had often speculated about the major. Only Tiong had been allowed to meet him. The others only saw him when Jimmy hacked his way into the security system. Don conjured a scenario with Greg Mathers as the real person in charge and not an Air Force officer at all. He was CIA sent there to evaluate them for another secret project that the government had in mind. This, of course, provoked Jimmy to outbursts of colorful mixed metaphors and open threats if he found out that anything of the like was true. In turn, this fueled Don's imagination to the point that the professor had to intervene and assure Jimmy that none of it was even remotely true. As far as he knew.
June glanced around her at the Gummy Bears on the floor. “We’d better get the place cleaned up. We don't wanna make a bad first impression.”
Don stood up and walked over to her desk, leaning in to look at the monitor. “You make a very cute couple.”
“I know. But she's a one-man woman. And Brad's a little jealous.”
“They must've had a late night.”
“They're supposed to be on a reserve. No matter how nice it is for them in here,” June lamented.
“Well, maybe today's visit will get that ball rolling,” Don offered. “Besides, you still haven't gotten word back about where Paris and Charlie are going.”
June looked to the monitor on her left and scanned the camera around in the other paddock that mirrored the one that housed Angelina and Brad. The false vegetation and natural-looking terrain sometimes made spotting the chimps difficult, but after a few moments she found them near the artificial stream eating their breakfast of fruit and nuts. She glanced at the middle screen, where Angelina was beginning to stir, and then back. Zooming in on the females, she found it amazing that they appeared to be exactly alike, down to the smallest detail. Chimps all look the same to most people, but to a trained eye they are as different as one human is from the next. Even identical twins have subtle differences in weight and hair color, but not these two. They were identical, despite the fact that Tiong claimed he could tell the difference between them. The fact that the four could not be placed together broke June's heart, but this one unexplained side effect of the experiment made that impossible.
“Let's hope so,” June said, as she thought of something that her parents had always told her when she grew impatient: It's all in Gods timing.
5 The Blind
AS GREG TURNED INTO the Lightning Quik Mart, Kitchens asked, “What's the matter? You need gas?” He glanced at the SUV’s gauges.
“No, sir. This is it.”
“This is what?”
“The duck blind.”
Kitchens peered over his glasses at the young officer, wondering if this was Greg’s idea of a joke, then at the unlikely site of a classified DOD project.
It was a convenience store.
“The Lightning Quik Mart is the duck blind,” Kitchens said incredulously.
Greg couldn't contain a chuckle. “Yes, sir. Pretty good, huh?”
The parking lot was full of vehicles. There were three semi trucks. One was a tanker delivering fuel to the store, its bright green tractor and sparkling silver tank trailer bearing the green logo of the Mathis Oil Company. Another was parked close to the building, its rear doors facing the highway. The third, with a white cab and trailer emblazoned with the red Lightning Quik Mart forked lightning bolt logo, was backed up to the front door where its driver was unloading wares. There were cars parked next to the gas pumps, more in front of the store, and another at the far end of the lot.
“You gotta be kiddin' me,” Kitchens said, as another delivery truck pulled up next to the store.
As the two got out of the truck and started toward the front door, the senator asked, rather dryly, “Does it turn a profit?”
Ignoring the quip, Greg explained, “All of the trucks are ours.”
“Well, they need mufflers,” Kitchens complained over the noise of the engines. “And,
they're not at all concerned about the price of fuel, now are they?”
“How y'all doin' this mornin'?” A short, burly man with several days’ growth of beard was wearing a green shirt and matching baseball cap bearing the Mathis Oil Company logo.
“Hi, Charlie,” Greg answered, playing his role as Lightning Quik Mart's Regional Vice President of Marketing. The cover allowed him to park at the store for days at a time without arousing suspicion, and he had an office in the back. Leaning in close to the senator, he whispered, “He’s with us.”
Once inside, Kitchens quickly surveyed the store. There was a balding man in a gray suit getting a cup of coffee in the back. To the left, a young man wearing the olive green jumpsuit of an Air Force staff sergeant was looking over the store's selection of over-the-counter medicines. On the right was a middle-aged woman with long brown hair and heavy make-up reaching for a soda from one of the coolers.
“They're not with us,” Greg cautioned.
From all appearances, it was merely a convenience store with everything one would expect to find, from Corn Nuts to the aroma of hot dogs sizzling on the rotisserie. There was even a good selection of fishing supplies, including a room in the back of the store with a LIVE BAIT sign hanging over the doorway. Because of its proximity to the Ocmulgee River, the store had proven quite popular with local fishermen.
“Let me introduce you to the manager,” Greg said.
They neared the store’s check-out counter where two Lightning Quik Mart employees were standing back to back, one a young white man and the other a young black woman. “Welcome to Lightning Quik Mart,” they said in unison, with a decided lack of enthusiasm. They glanced up and then back to their task of checking off the deliveries that were being stacked on the floor in front of them.
“Good morning, Cheryl, Sean. Where's Cindy?” Greg asked.
“In the cooler,” Cheryl answered.
“Thanks,” Greg said, and then whispered, “They’re two of eleven Air Force personnel that work here. Cindy is the only civilian.”
The sound of a female voice drew their attention as she emerged from the cooler, her distinctive Brooklyn accent leading the way. “How many times do I have to tell you, Tony? You can't deliver here at nine in the morning. We're too busy. You have to deliver either before six or after ten.”
She wore jeans, a white blouse, and a red Lightning Quik Mart vest. Her black hair was pulled tightly back, bound up with some type of multi-beaded barrette that allowed her pony tail to hang down to her shoulder blades. She waved a clipboard as she spoke, closely followed by a Hispanic man in his mid-thirties wearing the matching shorts and shirt of Lightning Quik Mart.
When the driver didn't immediately acknowledge her, she added, “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, ma'am.” He went out the door, pushing his hand truck up the ramp to fetch another load.
“That man ain't never gonna learn.”
“Good morning, Cindy,” Greg said. “I want to introduce you to someone. This is—”
“Cynthia Patrice Lattice!” Kitchens shouted, startling the major. “How the heck are ya?” He scooped her up in a warm embrace. “You better leave that man alone.”
“Mister Mayor!” Cindy shouted back, surprised by the visit from her old friend. Taking his hands, she stood back and eyed him wryly. “Or, should I call you Senator?” Heads turned as she immediately attracted the attention of the store's customers and employees alike.
“How about Kevin?” Kitchens gave no thought at all to the store’s patrons.
“Kevin. It's so good to see you,” she said warmly and then turned to the major. “Hey, Greg. I didn't expect you today.” Cindy had been left out of the loop about the senator’s visit.
Greg glanced around with a concerned look. “Maybe we should go into the back.”
Cindy’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Sorry, Greg.” She moved toward the back of the store, handing the clipboard to Cheryl. “We'll be in the back.”
Kitchens caught the Air Force sergeant’s eye as he nodded and said, “Good morning, Sir.”
“Mornin',” he replied casually.
The sergeant made a sideways move toward the employees and whispered, "Who's that?"
Sean spoke without missing a beat. “Them? The manager and some big wigs from corporate.”
Greg paused at the door in order to listen to Sean's conversation with the sergeant.
“I thought I heard her say senator.”
Greg grimaced.
“Really?” Sean managed to sound uninterested. “That one guy is Mr. Mathers, one of the VPs. I don't know who the other guy is.”
Without turning, Cheryl added, “He used to be mayor of Warner Robins and is good friends with Cindy. He got hisself elected senator last year.” She sounded thoroughly unimpressed.
“Huh.” Sean glanced over at Cheryl and then to the sergeant’s items as he rung them up. “I don't know. I just moved here a couple of months ago.”
The sergeant thought about asking if he could meet the senator, but quickly abandoned the notion when Cheryl added, “The last time he came in here, some Air Force dude asked him for his autograph and, honey, he nutted up! Got hisself in all kinds a trouble with his boss.” She looked the sergeant in the eye. “That man is a sho nuff jerk.”
With that, the sergeant quickly paid and left.
Greg closed and locked the door with a wry smile. Not bad.
From the brightly lit hallway, Greg could hear Kitchens and Cindy talking in her office. They obviously knew each other well. Greg didn’t want to eavesdrop, but the noise of the store’s machinery wasn't enough to drown out their conversation.
“Anyway, I went to the interview, figured I’d see what the man had to say, you know? It was like any other interview except he just said, 'we'll be in touch.' Boom! That was it.”
They sat casually on folding metal chairs in the crowded little office. There was barely room for three inside. Greg saw an empty chair but did not sit, deciding it didn't look comfortable.
Besides, I haven't been invited.
“And?” Kitchens asked expectantly.
“And,” she repeated, “a week later I got a call from my old captain. Someone from the government had been to see him and asked him a bunch of questions about me.” She glanced over at the major. “Greg. Sit down, boo.”
Kitchens pushed the chair forward. “Yeah, Greg. Have a seat.”
“I'm fine,” he said. He leaned back against the doorframe and attempted to tune them out.
Cindy continued. “Well, another week goes by and I get a call from the man. He invites me back for another interview, asks me how much I make, offers me double, yadda, yadda, yadda, I take the job.”
“Wow. Double?” Kitchens asked, understandably impressed.
“Well, I took it after I found out that I’d be working for the government. I had to take a few tests and sign a non-disclosure agreement, but for that kind of money and government benefits, except for holidays. You know this place is open twenty-four seven. And all I have to do is what I was doing at my other job, not ask questions, and keep my mouth shut. Child, please! And you know I love my president.”
“I know you do. He's a great man, isn't he?”
“True dat, boo. True dat.” Cindy looked up at the major. “I don't think Greg's too happy with him, though.”
“Oh?”
“What?” Greg asked, his eyes darting from one to the other and back, suddenly interested in their conversation.
“Yeah,” Cindy continued. “You know, two kinds of folks can read people. Women and cops. And I'm both.”
Kitchens smiled.
“Greg can't tell me anything about what he's doing here, but ever since he arrived last month, I can tell he's been frustrated.” She eyed Greg up and down as he attempted to melt into the doorframe.
“Now, what goes on behind his office door ain’t none of my business. I don't wanna know. But I sure hope you came down here to give this m
an some good news.” She finished by giving the major a wink, making him sigh audibly.
After a short pause, Kitchens said, “Well, don't you worry about Greg. One way or another, I think we're gonna cheer him up.”
She only half heard what the senator said. “So, that's my story. What's up? What are you doin’—” She froze as it registered what Kitchens had said, startling her out of her reverie. They’re together. Oh, Lord, I hope I didn't just mess up! She held up her hands, closed her eyes and said, “No, no, no. Don't answer that. And don't tell me a lie ‘cause I'll lose respect for you. It's none of my business.”
Kitchens’ smile vanished as reality returned to him as well. Their little trip down memory lane had caught them both off guard. I'm here to do a job, not reminisce. And Cindy realized it before I did. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. Someone he knew personally was involved in the business he had come here for. For Kitchens, things just got a little more complicated.
Fearing she had overstepped her bounds, Cindy changed the subject. “You didn't know I managed another convenience store here in Warner Robins, did you Greg?”
“Really?” He feigned interest, understanding her potential dilemma.
“That's right, on Watson Boulevard. I managed it for seven years. That's where I met the mayor. I mean Kevin.” She looked at Kitchens coyly, completely regaining her composure. “I was right up the street from City Hall. Kevin came in my store every weekday mornin’ to get a newspaper and a soda. We've been good friends ever since, and that was right after I first moved here from New York.”
Kitchens stood up and spoke in a tone that was much more formal than it had been a moment before. “Cindy, it was great seeing you. Maybe we'll be able to get together soon.” He extended his hand.
Taking the hint, Cindy stood up and grasped Kitchens’ hand, pulling him to her for a quick hug. “I'd like that,” she replied.
“Well, Greg, I think that we had better get started, don't you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yeah, I better get back to work too.” Cindy walked back to the storeroom door. “I have two more deliveries due in today. You guys stop by for a soda on your way out.”