The Collective Protocol (10 page)

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said as she turned and skipped down the hallway towards the emergency room.

Pam turned to look behind her. She hadn’t ever been too far into the hospital besides the emergency room, but she knew that somewhere back that way was another exit. It was a good thing that she’d been stabbed in the fatty tissue of her boob by
Paige
or else she would have bled a lot more and not been able to move.

She considered her options and decided to try to make it to the front entrance. She began the slow, arduous trek down the hallway on the crutches. “Hey, I thought we were playing a game!” Daniel/Paige called from the ER.

Pam ignored him and continued hobbling towards the interior of the building. “Okay, this will be more fun anyways!” he shouted at her retreating form.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God
, Pam’s mind repeated over and over. What was happening? She passed by an empty fire extinguisher bracket and thought it looked weird.
Where is the extinguisher? OSHA would have a fit if they saw that
. Then she chastised herself for thinking anyone would care about a fire extinguisher under the circumstances.

A heavyset nurse burst out of the doors leading to the Radiology clinic a few feet in front of her. She danced seductively against a red cylindrical object.
Found the fire extinguisher
. Pam knew it was useless, but asked anyways, “Hey, can you help me?”

“Oh yeah, Pammie. I can help you. Hey, remember when we were little and it would snow? We’d go to the park and pretend that we were snow princesses and that the real world was just a dream. Remember that?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

The nurse pulled the safety pin and began spraying the flame retardant foam up in the air and then waived the hose all around while the white froth flew everywhere. “It’s snowing, Pammie! The real world is just a dream! I’m the master of my world. I can be anyone or anything I want to be!”

“Paige! Paige, stop it. You’re scaring me,” Pam pleaded.

“Fine!” she screamed like a petulant child. “You’re no fun.” She turned to go back into Radiology and thought better of it. She just stood there and stared at Pam with her hands on her hips. The officer glanced nervously at her and then continued past slowly. Paige sprayed a burst from the extinguisher at her backside when she passed.

Maybe the drugs that they gave me are too powerful and I’m hallucinating
. She continued to walk as quickly as she could, but another hospital worker burst from a side hallway holding something awkwardly down low.

“Hi, Pammie!” this one said.

“Hello, Paige,” she replied wearily.

“Hey, remember when we used to play in the fire hydrants when they would let off the pressure from the lines?”

“Yeah, those were good days too.”

“Let’s do it again!” Paige said and brought the object that she’d been holding up level with her side. She turned the fire hose on full-blast and the pressure knocked both of them off their feet.

“Woo hoo!” Paige yelled as the hose flew from her grasp and sprayed water wildly in all directions. “This is so fun!”

Pam struggled to her feet and pushed past the laughing form. She walked for twenty feet before she risked a glance backwards towards the latest incarnation of her former sibling. The orderly stood there staring at her while the hose continued to spray water everywhere.

She passed a sign that said the exit was ahead and shivered uncontrollably as she walked towards the lobby. Pam didn’t know if the shock of the day was getting to her or if the air conditioning had been lowered; with her wet clothing the cold was almost debilitating. Pam wasn’t even fazed when another person jumped out from the florist shop. This one held flowers and balloons.

“Remember when we had a birthday party together, Pammie? That was so fun.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite childhood memories, Paige,” she lied.

“Oh, not mine. Daddy trapped me in the bathroom and stuffed a towel in my mouth. Sometimes the need took him at the strangest time. He said that I kept him from hurting all of your friends that day and that I should be proud.”

Pam jumped as the flower vase shattered across the floor. “Can you believe that? I should be
proud
that he molested me instead of the other girls at the party. If you hadn’t invited your friends over, I might not have been touched that day. I never got the chance to thank you for that.”

The florist pulled a pair of scissors out of her apron and charged towards Pam. She unholstered her weapon and fired into the woman’s chest. The scissors went flying and the lady fell back against the glass shop windows.
I wondered when she’d get violent again
, her mind said.

The hallway opened up into a large lobby full of people who blocked her path to the exit. As one, they all turned towards her and a chorus of different voices said, “Hi, Pammie!” in unison.

There was no way that she’d be able to avoid them so she turned to head back down the hallway. Daniel led the heavy nurse and the dripping wet orderly towards her. Behind him all of the former occupants of the ER spread out down the hallway, completely blocking the way back.

“Drop the weapon, Pammie,” two hundred voices said in unison from either side of her. She looked between the two groups of people and considered her options. She had eight rounds left in her current magazine and another twenty more on her belt. Not nearly enough to shoot her way out of here.

She set her weapon down and Paige’s proselytes closed in.

THIRTEEN

The Acid Rain was incredibly hot. Even though it was early December, they had the heat cranked up so high that clothes were discarded everywhere in the club. The partiers would figure out what belonged to whom later, for now it was all about the experience.

Reagan stepped up to the bar and ordered bottled water. She watched carefully as the bartender handed her a sealed bottle. “Eight bucks,” he said without even cracking a smile.

She blanched and yelled over the music, “Eight dollars! Are you sure? The sign says draft beer is only six.”

“Let me see your hands. Are you old enough for a beer?”

“No,” she answered.

“Then the water is eight bucks.”

“That’s a rip-off and you know it.”

“I don’t set the prices, I just pour the drinks,” he replied and took an order from another customer while she decided what she was going to do.

Reagan took a ten dollar bill out of her clutch and slammed it down on the bar. She knew it wasn’t his fault. The clubbing scene in D.C. had taken a major hit after the incident at Justin’s place back in October and the intermittent power grid conspired against everyone in the service industry. They were trying to make a few extra dollars any way that they could. “Fine, keep the change,” she shouted and snatched the bottle off of the alcohol-soaked bar.

She twisted the cap and took several large gulps of the room-temperature water. The drugs that many of the clubbers took dehydrated them and they would get cotton mouth and needed the fluids. It was actually a smart move to charge more for the water as they did for the beer since most of the crowd was under 21. Reagan shook her head and thought,
even in the end times, capitalism prevails
.

That was a sobering thought. Were these the end times? She obviously didn’t believe that flake of a psychology teacher, but things did seem to be out of control lately. In a little over two months, it seemed like all sorts of things had changed. Stray animals and homeless people were now non-existent in the city. The National Guard patrolled the streets day and night. Even the university had added a police presence to keep the students safe.

The nightly news seemed to broadcast some new type of horror or bizarre occurrence nearly every day. International flights had become extremely scarce as the world community watched the slow degradation of the American society and intercontinental flights were simply cancelled without question. No one knew what was afflicting the North American continent, but they didn’t want it transferring to their countries.

Reagan sighed as she stared out at the undulating bodies. Her video camera continued to roll on her arm, but she wasn’t feeling it. She didn’t want to be here anymore. This scene, this crowd, she felt as if she’d suddenly grown beyond it. The only reason that she even came tonight was because she needed a few more minutes of footage for her multimedia presentation on the declining Washington, D.C. club scene.

Her advisor had strongly cautioned her against changing the focus of her term paper into a multimedia presentation, this late in the semester, but it was something that she felt needed to be done. She simply couldn’t bring herself to write any more pages about the positive benefits of clubbing for the younger generation. Her view of the world had changed and she was beginning to see it in a different light.

She didn’t care about the recreational drugs; every generation had that to contend with. Now that she had purposefully made herself an outsider, one of the things she was beginning to see was the sexual assaults that happened in this environment. Sure, she’d changed her clothing choice when she went on “assignment” long ago due to the rampant groping, but she also saw boys and girls being carried to the restrooms or alleyway. On her last club visit she’d done her normal routine of scanning the crowd for interesting people to videotape and interview. As a result of her people-watching, she’d noticed several times when things weren’t right and called the police on three separate occasions. Arrests had been made and her name was once again on the police radar, but in a positive way this time.

Was this what growing up was like? She still enjoyed the music, but the scene itself seemed ridiculous and she couldn’t believe that she’d ever actually liked to go to these types of places for fun. She raised her bottle to take another drink when it suddenly went flying from her hand.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” a cute guy yelled in her ear. “I got pushed from behind. Let me buy you another one.”

She gave him a quick up and down look. He looked just like everyone else in the room except that he wasn’t covered in sweat. She nodded and turned back to watch the crowd with her camera.

In a few moments the guy returned with two bottles of water and handed her one. “Did you just get here?” she asked.

“Not too long ago. How can you tell?”

“Everyone else out there is drenched in sweat because it’s so damn hot in here!” she yelled and pointed towards the people dancing rhythmically to the beat of the music.

“Oh, yeah. Good eyes. Here you go.” He handed her one of the bottles of water and she untwisted the cap. It came off easily, but she didn’t notice.

“Thanks, it’s really hot in here.”

“I know,” he replied and stuck out his hand. “My name’s William.”

She grasped it and shook gently, “Reagan.”

The two of them chatted for a while and she eventually agreed to go on a date with him. Everything that she’d been through the past several months had meant that she didn’t have time for dating and it made her happy that she was moving beyond that and actually taking time for herself.

As they talked, the music became more intense and the bass kicked up to an extremely loud volume. “Is it just me, or is the music getting louder?” she asked.

William looked around and said, “Maybe. It’s been so loud the entire time I’ve been in here, that I’m not sure if I could really tell. Do you wanna go outside?”

Reagan stared at him but had a hard time focusing on anything but his nose. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “What did you say?”

He leaned in close to her ear and said, “I asked if you wanted to get out of here.”

She nodded dumbly and turned to kiss him.
Wait! Something is wrong!
her mind screamed at her. She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t focus on anything and she
never
kissed a stranger.

William’s hand cupped her butt and the other slid up to her chest while he was kissing her. Reagan shoved weakly against him and fell backwards, landing on her rear end. “Uh oh, too much to drink. I’ll take you home,” he said loudly as he bent over to pick her up.

“No… I didn’t drink,” she mumbled weakly. There was no way that anyone heard her.

He helped her to her feet and together they stumbled towards the entrance. To everyone in the club, it looked like a boyfriend helping his girlfriend home after drinking too much. Reagan’s mind fought against the haze that muddled her thoughts.

They stumbled towards the exit past the restrooms and she forced her hands to work long enough to squeeze William tightly. “I’m… pee my pants,” she lied. “Gonna go quick. Then home… with you.”

He nodded and turned back towards the restroom and held the door while she wobbled her way inside. She sat on the toilet seat with her jeans still on and fumbled through her clutch purse until her cell phone emerged. She drunkenly held it in front of her face and touched the “Emergency” button.

When the operator answered, the only things she could say were, “Club… Bathroom… Help…”

The police were able to locate the club from her phone’s GPS. By the time they arrived, “William” was long gone. He’d been at this game long enough to know when a sure thing had gone south. Luckily for Reagan, she had video of the guy and the police were able to post it to their Crimestoppers line.

Her parents met her at the hospital and the doctors said that she’d received a fairly standard dose of Rohypnol. She’d been extremely lucky that she’d had the presence of mind to refuse to leave with the guy and call the police.

She vowed to her parents that she was done with the club scene. The research for her paper was complete, although she decided to shift the focus of the project once again.

*****

The next day came way too early for her when Ansley jumped on her bed at three in the afternoon. “Oh my God, get out of here!” she moaned into her pillow.

“Okay, just wanted to check on you. You’ve been asleep
all day
,” the youngest Lockhart replied.

Reagan pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I just don’t feel good. Do you think you could bring me a glass of water?”

“Of course!” she said and leapt from the bed. If the shaking of the mattress wasn’t bad enough, Ansley’s pounding footfalls on the hallway’s wooden floor were a killer.

The events of the previous night came crashing back to her. She’d almost been raped by some creep in the club. How could she have been so stupid as to have accepted that water from him? She began to shake and then the tears began to flow at the thought of how close she’d come to being a statistic.

Ansley returned and set the glass down on her nightstand. She may have been a pre-teen, but she knew when to keep her mouth shut and just hold someone when they needed it.

Reagan finally cried herself out and squeezed her kid sister’s shoulders. “Thank you. You’re gonna be all right, you know that?” she said.

“I’ve got a great big sister to help me out,” Ansley answered seriously.

You almost lost her last night
, Reagan thought. She kissed the girl on the top of the head and said, “I’m gonna get cleaned up and then go get some food. You wanna go?”

“Yeah! Hurry up already!”

They took a bus to Ansley’s favorite Thai place and had a late lunch/early dinner. When they got back Reagan had to assure her mother that she would be alright and that she wouldn’t bottle her feelings up.

Heather Lockhart relented and let her return to her room. She wanted to begin revising her project so she sat at her computer and wondered what she could write that wouldn’t make her burst into tears. Or was that what she needed to do?

The act of writing out the details of the event turned out to be cathartic for her soul. The hours flew by as she hammered away at the keyboard. Ansley checked in periodically and brought her water and juice like the doctors recommended. By the time the 11 o’clock news was on, the written portion of Reagan’s project was complete.

Her next task was to edit the club footage together into a coherent video clip with her voiceover. When she was done, she took the entire document and posted it to her blog. Before the night was over, Amethyst received hundreds of emails from girls—and a few boys—who’d had experiences similar to hers.

Reading through the messages made her sick, but it gave her a purpose. She’d always wanted to be a journalist, now she had a platform. Battling sexual assault would be her new calling card and the first thing she wanted to do was compile everyone’s story into a book.

It was well past her normal bedtime and the first rays of light were beginning to peek through her bedroom windows when she finished mapping out her ideas and where she wanted to go from here. She yawned and stretched lazily. It had been years since she saw the sunrise and it was less than ten minutes away.

Reagan rushed downstairs and hastily brewed a cup of coffee. Within minutes, it rested on her lap as she sat on the front porch waiting to see the sun come up. Behind her, the screen door opened, startling her. It was her father; he sat down heavily on the loveseat beside her.

He rested a hand on her knee and asked, “You doin’ okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I think so, Dad.”

“Been a long time since you were up this early.”

“I was writing and lost track of time,” she answered.

“Well, you’re definitely up for the best time of day. It’s so peaceful and quiet. The city hasn’t woken up yet and before the daily grind begins, you can visualize how this place must have looked hundreds of years ago.”

“Dad, D.C. was a swamp hundreds of years ago. That’s why everyone agreed to give up the land for the capitol.”

Her father frowned and said, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know Dad.”

The two of them sat there until the sun had risen and then Garrett Lockhart said, “What the heck is that?”

“What?”

“Look down at the end of the street,” he pointed. “There must be a hundred of them.”

“Uh, Dad, they’re coming from the other side too.”

“Quick, get in the house. We’ll call the police.”

The two of them jumped from the loveseat and rushed inside. Their peaceful morning was shattered by the appearance of hundreds of skunks. The family watched in fear and disgust as the creatures surrounded their house and began spraying every surface with their foul-smelling projectile liquid. By the time the police arrived to clear out the wild animals, their entire house and both cars had been covered in the dripping substance.

The behavior was so strange that the FBI made an appearance in Reagan’s life once again. She didn’t know if it was a coincidence or if she was somehow being targeted by
something
. No one could explain it, but it was probably the weirdest thing that had happened in the city to date.