Authors: Geoffrey Girard
Cain's Blood (31 page)
he room filled with gas.
The toxic vapors coated the tall Plexiglas windows in
greasy miasma.
Castillo could barely breathe. The synthetic stench of
burning plastic filled his nose and throat.
his mind filling with a hundred thoughts. Such terrible thoughts.
everything hazy.
Other bodies moved about the room.
Screaming. Thrashing.
And he could hear sounds. Such terrible sounds.
Someone moved toward him, and he pushed the body away. Could
see it moving toward another figure.
he wanted to kill.
he wiped his burning eyes, breathed deeply. focused.
I will endure it, having in my breast a heart that endures affliction.
he thought of the men lost.
Those who’d died beside him. Wissinger. koster.
he wanted to kill.
he collapsed to the floor, choking.
I want to kill.
he pictured the boy, Shaya. heard his musical laughter over the
screams on the other side of the room.
he thought of his father.
Blood, someone’s blood, splashed across his face.
he turned his head. Pressed it against the cool Plexiglas.
he wanted to kill.
For ere this I have suffered much and toiled much amid the waves and in
war . . . Let this also be added unto that.
his whole body trembling with the blood of Cain.
he thought of kristin.
And the boy.
Jeff.
he knew she would care of the boy as she’d promised. That she
would “fix” the kid as much as she could. he knew she would do that.
That she was, even now, feeding the press information about dead employees, illegal experimentations.
And he knew they would be safe.
he could almost see the boy on the other side of the glass.
A heart that endures . . .
he closed his eyes again.
And then nothing.
Death toll Rises in WoRkplace Rampage
By JACOB heuker (JuNe 19)
P
olice officials have confirmed the removal of a tenth
body from the burned wreckage of Dynamic Solutions
Technology Institute (DSTI), a pharmaceutical research facility in suburban radnor, Pennsylvania, fifteen miles north of
Philadelphia.
On friday, officials report, a former employee opened
fire with multiple assault rifles and pistols and then set the
two-story primary research building on fire using homemade
explosives.
yesterday, officials identified the gunman as Shawn Castillo, a recently retired captain in the united States Army who
had been honorably discharged for medical reasons related to
post-traumatic stress disorder a year before the incident.
Other casualties include Chief executive Officer Thomas
rolich, 53, and the company’s director of research, Gregory
Jacobson, 61. The bodies of geneticists Theodore erdman, 46,
robert feinberg, 33, and Martin Dechovitz,37, and lab technician Catherine Callahan, 51, were identified earlier this week.
Three bodies, including the one recovered this morning,
have not yet been identified by officials.
Castillo had been hired as a security guard at the institute
six weeks prior to the shooting. Police officials are still unsure
of the gunman’s motive.
Castillo killed himself onsite following the incident and
was one of the burned bodies recovered at the scene.
A spokeswoman for DSTI, Terry Maley, said today at a
news conference outside the facility that the company would
not comment on its security procedures, nor would she confirm whether there were any disciplinary or grievance issues
involving Mr. Castillo.
Maley did say that officials “were aware of Mr. Castillo’s
mental history when he was hired but were not made aware
of any violent tendencies or history.”
Captain kristin romano, the Veteran Affair’s specialist
who’d treated Castillo at the Walter reed Medical Center
in D.C. for his PTSD a year prior to his medical discharge,
stated the event was a “tragic reminder for this country to
remain committed to advance the clinical care and social welfare of its veterans” and declined further comment.
Castillo was a decorated soldier who served in both Afghanistan and Iraq. No further information was made available concerning his military duties or record.
DSTI is a private biotechnology company with two
hundred employees that specializes in the development of
therapeutic, pharmaceutical, and cell-based therapies. The
company had operated the Massey Institute as a hands-on
charitable foundation that worked toward the mental health
of teens and children.
Both the private boys school and medical facility on the
grounds were closed at the time of the attack, and no students
were harmed.
The day of the attack, the company and its parent corporation, Goodwin Bio-Med, also faced national federal and
media questioning following a critical
Philadelphia Inquirer
article detailing misappropriated government funds, the development and testing of prohibited biological contaminants,
and the still-disputed circumstances surrounding the fatal airplane crash that claimed four DSTI employees five years ago.
Any correlation between the
Inquirer
reports and the
shooting are unknown at this time. radnor’s police chief,
Leonard kerry, said at a news conference that the investigation was ongoing.
eff tossed another stone into the dark waters of the small lake,
and it skipped twice before vanishing into the blackness beneath. A small sunfish jumped briefly behind the splash as the
setting October sun draped golden lace upon the opposite
shore, framed in flushing treetops and spike-rush. his new book lay
open facedown in the grass. The cold fall wind ruffled its pages at the
corners and swept back his shaggy blonde hair as he righted the Senators hat Ox had given him.
In the distance, he could still hear the laughter and shouts of some
of the other guys tossing a football. Castillo had been right about this
too: Ox’s friends had enough room and supplies for all of them. for as
long as they needed.
And also for any other boys Castillo and Jeff managed to collect
along the way.
It was a good place. Not a single scientist for a hundred miles in any
direction.
he was thinking of his father again.
for a week, the news channels reported on the killing spree at a
small research facility in Pennsylvania. About his father’s death. And
Castillo’s. All of it lies, of course. And then another week passed—a
month, three months—and everything, even the lies, just kind of went
away. Almost as if none of it had ever happened.
Almost.
he watched Castillo cross the field toward him.
he’d just driven kristin back to the airport. She tried to visit every
couple weeks. To talk with him and the other boys. She was good at
that. Talking. It was nice.
Ox and his friends worked to make sure she and Castillo were never
followed when she visited. Not that they were too worried about what
would happen if they were. It was kristin who’d worked with one of
Castillo’s old war buddies, some guy named Pete, and gotten special
information to the papers. enough of the truth to scare away DSTI
and the government forever. enough of a taste for what the full report
would look like if anything ever happened to Castillo, or kristin, or Ox,
or any of them.
Or me.
Castillo came up beside him.
how he’d survived the IrAX11, how he’d walked away from . . .
from
that,
Jeff did not yet fully understand. But he suspected.
Since it was something in all of us.
Thank God,
Jeff thought, looking up.
Castillo noticed the opened book and shook his head warmly.
kristin had given Jeff his very own copy the first time they’d met.
he thought of the last passage he’d underlined:
“I must not be found sitting in tears. It is not well forever to be grieving.”
he smiled up at Castillo, and Castillo sat beside him without a
word.
Jeff turned back to the lake.
They would have time for talk later.
ack moved slowly across his big green lawn.
The thick grass tickled his bare toes, and he let each step
sink his foot in fully before moving to the next. In one hand he
carried a small plastic cup that Mommy had filled with goldfish
crackers. The cheezy pizza kind he liked the most. In the other hand
was a grape juice bag. The driveway was hot under his feet, and he
walked quicker to his destination. The shade of the big tree where his
dinosaurs were waiting. The big T-rex that was his favorite, and the new
stegosaurus his dad had brought home.
he sat down carefully on the natural mound under the great big
tree and carefully set his cup of goldfish on the ground. Looked around
for any ants.
Across the street, Alec was playing with his mommy. Alec got mad if
you called him Alex. Maybe they would play later. he wondered again if
it would be funny to kill Alec. To drown him in the pool. Or hit his head
with something until he stopped moving.
Jack did not understand why he thought these things.
320
GeOffrey GIrArD
Later, no one else understood, either.
There was no history of psychopathic behavior or violence in his
family. There had been no physical or mental trauma. his serotonin
levels and glucose metabolism were quite ordinary. he was not adopted.
he was not a clone.
his blood and thoughts were entirely his own.
he was just a normal boy. he was every boy.
Any boy.
Jack waved back.
uthor Don DeLillo once described a book-in-progress as
a hideously damaged infant that follows the writer around,
dragging itself across the floor, noseless and flipper-armed,
drooling; wanting love until fully formed by the writer.
And raising two books (
Cain’s Blood
and brother
Project Cain
) at the
same time, all those extra hands/eyes/minds/hearts are much appreciated.
Special thanks to: Jason Sizemore and
Apex Magazine,
who first carried my Cain fetus; foundry Literary & Media’s Peter McGuigan and
Stephen Barbara for suggesting twins and becoming steadfast godfathers,
and katie hamblin and Matt Wise, the lads’ favorite/coolest babysitters;
the devoted fostering of Megan reid and Stacy Creamer, and kristin
Ostby (who discovered this peculiar child in a blanket on her doorstep
and still cared for it as her own). To family and friends who’ve supported
the process throughout (one son finally asking, “Will you
please
stop talking about Jeffrey Dahmer?”), in particular Mary for encouraging, and
accommodating, my own lengthy and selfish parenting of the Cains.
excerpt from Simon and Schuster Books for young readers’ PrOJeCT CAIN (ISBN: 9781442476967) Tk