Inside the Center (standard:Suspense, 9843 words)
Author: TJC	Added: Aug 17 2007	Views/Reads: 4423/2965	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Three men find themselves on a plane with no memory of how they got there. When they land on a tropical paradise, a strange man tells them he's there to help and leads them Inside the Center.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

the man in the back seat.  “I'm sorry I didn't hear you.  What else do 
you remember?” 

“That my name is Joe.  Joey.” 

The two men looked hard at each other, their faces etched with
confusion. 

“Is that land?” asked Joey.  “I don't have my fucking phone.  I always
have it.  At least I think I do.” 

“Yeah,” the pilot replied.  “Hopefully there is someplace I can land and
figure things out.  I don't have my phone either and I'm not sure it 
would work here anyway, wherever we are.” 

“I'm going to wake up sleeping beauty here and see if he has any
answers.” 

“Hey you,” Joey said to the sleeping man next to him.  He slept like
baby with his head resting against the widow.  He was dressed in 
expensive looking khaki slacks a red polo shirt. The man's hair was 
thin, nearly bald except for a thick band of brown around the base of 
his crown.  The face appeared to be middle-aged but soft and well cared 
for. “Wake up, Dude.  We want to know if you can shed any light on all 
this.” 

The man stirred against the window and when Joey smacked him on his
shoulder his eyes opened bright- they were a deep olive green.  His 
gaze quickly swept the cabin and then rested on Joey in his Cub cap. 

“Welcome,” Joey told him.  “My name is Joey, this is Joe,  he's our
pilot, and we'd like to know who you are.” 

The man opened his mouth but didn't say anything.  Joey  again asked him
his name. “Jay,” he replied.  “My name's Jay.  What's going on?” 

Joey knew the guy was confused and probably in the dark with the rest of
them.  At least his name is slightly different.  “Can you tell us your 
last name and what you do for a living?” 

Shaking his head, the man rubbed his temples.  “I can't remember.  Wait,
my name is Jay, but my actual name is Joe . You guys both are Joe too?” 


Both nodded.  This was making no sense, Joey thought to himself.  “Joe,
he's a Joe too,” he said to the pilot.  “But he doesn't go by Joe, he 
goes by Jay.”  Looking back at the newest member of their three-man 
club, he again asked him about his work. 

“I work for the government.  Criminal Interrogations Branch.” 

“What?”  Joey and Joe exchanged glances before Joey renewed the
questioning. “So you work for those people but yet you have no idea 
what's going on or how you got here?” 

The CIB man shook his head.  “None.” 

“Bullshit.”  Joey grabbed the man's collar.  Like most people in the
country the past few years, Joey hated the government and the CIB most 
of all.  “Tell us what's going on, you son of a bitch.” 

“I don't know, I really don't.” 

“Let him go, Joey,” the pilot cautioned.  “We'll get some answers, I
think I see a clearing we can land in.” 

“Good.  But we have no radio so I'm not sure what we're going to do down
there.”  Joey shoved the CIB man toward his window. 

“If I keep flying aimlessly we'll run out of fuel over the ocean- which
ocean I haven't a clue, but does it matter?” 

Both the men in the back shook their heads.  The clearing below was a
large field of rectangular shape and what looked to be lush forests on 
all sides surrounding it. He flew by with a couple of passes. 

“It's going to be close,” he warned the others. “But I think can get us
in there.” 

“No choice I assume?”  The CIB said in a resigned voice. 

“None.” Joe brought the craft in and touched down on the grassy carpet,
doing his best to get the plane's speed down safely.  Coming to a slow 
crawl just about fifty feet from the trees.  “Okay.....we're 
down....and I think okay.” He turned around and faced the two men in 
the back seats.  “Let's go over what we know.  All of us are named Joe. 
 But you,” -he pointed at the CIB man- “go by Jay.”  The man nodded.  
	“Okay so we all share the same name, but slightly different 
variations.  We all look slightly different, but..” 

“But we all look similar enough to be brothers,” said the CIB man.  He
sat up straighter now. 

“We all make our living in different ways,” Joey said, glaring at Jay. 
“Very different ways for one of us.” 

“I don't have to take your shit,” Jay barked.  “Let's get the fuck out
of this plane.” 

“Just hold on,” Joe cautioned.  “We still have no idea where we are and
we have no plan, let's just calm down.”  Joe was thinking with the calm 
head of a pilot in a situation, he realized that Joey was emotional- 
like he was in the middle of a baseball game- and Jay seemed aloof and 
defensive.  Maybe he DID know what was going on, but if so he was one 
hell of an actor. 

“Jay, I want to ask you man to man, your word,” Joe said, “you have
absolutely no idea what is going on here?”  Jay shook his head with a 
despairing look. 

It was common for people to mistrust the government.  Joe couldn't
remember much about his life but he remembered enough about the 
nation's current administration. In an effort to fight terrorism,  
after a suitcase nuclear device exploded in Miami, things had changed 
quickly.  People could be detained and interrogated by the new Criminal 
Interrogations Branch.  Homes, vehicles, and bodies could be searched 
at a whim.  Free speech and expression were barely tolerated and more 
and more the country was becoming a police state.  People seemed void 
of dreams and aspirations- instead all they cared about was being safe 
from attack and their own government's prying eyes. 

“Hey Joe, you still with us?”  Joey was staring at him.  “You seemed to
leave us for a minute.” 

Joe nodded.  “We can look around outside,” he said to his fellow
amnesiacs.  “But we need to stay together and know where we are in 
relation to the plane.  Clear?” 

The three of them got out of the plane and into the balmy air of a
tropical island.  A salty warm breeze filled their senses and palm 
trees and a lush, green jungle surrounded them. 

“I can think of worse places to be stranded.  I imagine we can find some
coconuts or something to eat.”  Joe did a quick once over the plane.  
It seemed in good shape. 

“The government will find us, won't they Jay?”  Joey again menaced the
CIB man.  “You people can track all types of vehicles, especially 
planes.  Right?”  Jay said nothing.  “I said isn't that right, CIB 
man?”  Joey shoved him to the ground.  Jay sprang up and rushed at him 
and before Joe could get between them the two men were grappling in the 
sandy grass.  Joey got on top of Jay and was punching him in the face 
when Joe pulled him off. 

“You will stop this nonsense,” Joe scolded.  He gave a look at Jay on
the ground with a bloodied lip. Joey gave a grudging nod.  Joe let him 
go and extended a hand to Jay who got to his feet. 

“Little hard to fight a guy who's not strung up to be whipped, or some
girl being tortured for having an abortion, huh Jay?” 

Joe shot Joey an angry stare that shut him up.  Then he turned to Jay. 
“The government can tracking this plane is a valid point.  What do you 
think?” 

“I think it's but it doesn't explain what's going on and I have no idea
what that is.” 

The three men stood there and looked around.  Joe had no idea which
direction to begin exploring and he considered having them all split 
up, if only to keep Joey and Jay from coming to blows.  It was better 
to stay together, though, or have two of them explore and one stay with 
the plane.  Yes, that was probably the best thing.  “Two of us will 
explore, one will stay with the plane.  Which of you wants to stay?” 

“Hey, look,” Joey said with a start.  He began walking toward the wood
line nearest the plane.  “Something is moving in there.” 

“What if it's a wild animal, you idiot?”  Jay shook his head and looked
at Joe, who immediately went after Joey.  They both stopped, however, 
when a tall, extremely dark black man stepped out of the trees in a 
white three piece suit.  It was wasn't exactly jungle attire.  The man 
wore a goatee and flashed a brilliant smile with teeth to match his 
suit. 

***** 

“Welcome, Gentlemen, I'm Doctor Pertwee, ” the doctor said as he gazed
at the three visitors.  “I see you all made it in one piece.  We've 
been expecting you.”  It was all working perfectly so far.  Taking a 
few steps toward the men he extended his hand.  “Come, come, everything 
is going to be fine.  Come, you must be hungry.”   The three men all 
gathered together and took some hesitant steps in his direction.  He 
beamed a smile and tried to put them at ease.   “I know the three of 
you have a million questions and I promise you'll learn everything as 
soon as possible.” 

“Where are we?” Joe asked.  “I just woke up flying this plane.  You're
telling us you can explain this to us?” He shook the doctor's hand. 

The pilot was obviously the leader, which is what the doctor expected. 
“Indeed I can, but not just yet.  As to where we are, we're in 
paradise, wouldn't you agree?” 

“How did you know I'd land here?” 

“Where else could you have gone, Joe?” 

“You know my name?  All of our names?” 

“Yes, yes, please try and wait on your questions until we get to the
center.  It's a very short way.” 

“The center?  What the hell is that?”  It was the baseball player, Joey.
The doctor smiled at him and extended his hand to him. 

“I promise, you'll love it.  I'll explain everything.”  He shook the
ball player's hand and then Jay's. 

“You know who I work for?  I mean what is this place?  Does the
government know about it?”  Jay spoke but never looked at the doctor, 
instead looking up at the tree line. 

“The government?  Which government, Jay?” 

“Which government?  Are you kidding me?” 

“Yes,”  the doctor laughed.  “I'm kidding you.  Now come along
gentlemen.  You're going to love it here during your short stay.”  The 
doctor turned and walked toward the wood line.  He knew the three 
visitors were following him.  What else could they do?   He turned and 
smiled.  They were walking behind him, following the pilot's lead.  Oh 
yes, it was all going quite well. 

The Center was in the jungle, nestled into the side of a hill and
impossible to have been seen by the air.  Its entry way was a massive 
green steel door that slid open as the men walked toward it.  Doctor 
Pertwee stood to the side and smiled and nodded as all three men 
hesitantly walked through the archway.  Once they were inside he 
followed behind them and the door slid shut. 

“Welcome to The Center, my friends,” he said.  “As you can see it's
quite hospitable.  Wouldn't you agree?” 

The room was a luxurious hall of marble floors, carved stone and wood,
and tables of fine food including all sorts of meats, cheeses, fresh 
fruit, cakes and pies.  An aroma of fresh baked bread and fine brewed 
coffee permeated the air. 

“Am I the only hungry one here?”  Pertwee picked up a pear and took a
bite.  Some doors to the side opened and five beautiful women entered, 
after ushering the three visitors to chairs they began serving them 
food and drinks.  The women each wore professional white nurses 
uniforms, but tailored with a fit that left little to the imagination.  
Pertwee watched them and though the pilot was a bit apprehensive, he 
sat down and began to eat, even smiled as two of the women showered him 
with attention.  The other two were easier, especially the man in the 
ball cap.  When his waitress playfully put his cap on her blonde hair 
he laughed with her and even took her hand and kissed it.  The third 
man, the one who boasted he worked for the government, looked over the 
women as a cat would stalk prey.  It was an unmistakable leer that was 
as old as time itself.  No matter, all three were eating and seemingly 
happy. 

“Thank you, Ladies,” the doctor said and all five nodded, flirted with
their customers and disappeared through the doors once again. 

“Doctor, were those nurses or waitresses?”  Joe asked. 

“Or hookers,” laughed Joey.  Joe shot him a stern look.  “I'm just
teasing.” 

“They are both,” Pertwee answered.  “This is a medical-research
facility, but we also go the extra mile to ensure our guests feel as if 
they're spending time at a resort. Is this not pleasant?” 

The men nodded together, and then Joe once again took up their cause. 
“Yes this food is wonderful and you seem to be doing all you can to 
make us feel good, but you still haven't answered our questions.” 

“Yeah why are we at a medical facility and why the hell can't we
remember shit?”  Joey took a huge bite of glazed ham and chomped on it 
as he stared at Pertwee. 

“As my eloquent friend has put it, why are we here and what has happened
to us?”  Jay pushed his plate aside, having had his fill obviously. 

The doctor smiled and walked along their table.  “The answer is simple,
each of you suffered a trauma of sorts and lost a great deal of your 
memory.  This facility is designed to repair that damage.” 

“How did it happen?” Joe asked.  “I'm not injured in any way, was it
emotional?” 

“Yeah none of us appear to be worse for wear, Doc.”  Joey nodded at Joe.
Jay remained silent. 

“Each of you had different experiences and when you're interviewed alone
we'll go over that.” 

“How do you explain our names, Doctor Pertwee?” asked Jay.  “All very
similar.” 

“We do things alphabetically, by first name.  Simple as that.”  Pertwee
smiled.  He could see he was bringing them into the plan nicely.  They 
were listening, retaining the information, and most importantly, 
starting to believe.  “It's nothing sinister, gentlemen.” 

“We all look somewhat alike too, Doctor.  How do you explain that?”  Joe
got up from the table looked around, then returned his gaze to Pertwee. 


Oh yes, the pilot was the strongest presence among the three.  No
question.  “Do you all look alike?  I don't really see it,” replied 
Pertwee.  “But when the imagination is in search of conspiracies, the 
mind will likely find the evidence somewhere.”  He heard a door behind 
him and saw all three look over his shoulder.  By the sound of the 
heels he knew he'd been joined by the real brains of The Center. 

“Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the real mind and genius behind our
facility, Dr. Morgan O'Hara.”  The eyes of the men were riveted on her 
as she walked up, the slightest trace of a smile on her face, which was 
dominated by black-rimmed glasses, the fiery red mane hidden in a pony 
tail pulled back tight, her leggy, curvy figure masked by dull, gray 
business suit and skirt.  Despite all her attempts to mask her 
attractiveness, the statuesque Dr. Morgan O'Hara was gorgeous to anyone 
who looked at her, a classic Irish beauty.  Pertwee had wanted her in 
his bed for months but he'd come to the realization that she was either 
cold or so narrow-minded she only cared about her work. 

“I made it clear I wanted no part of coming in here,” she whispered
through a fake smile. “This is your show, Pertwee.” 

“Nonsense my dear,” he said, smiling and nodding.  “Without you none of
this would be possible.  Now please, greet our guests.” 

“I'm Dr. O'Hara,” she said pleasantly as she walked away from Pertwee,
taking the time to make eye contact with all three men.  “I will be 
escorting you to your rooms and in the morning you'll each be seen 
individually.  Please be assured, nothing is going to happen to you, 
you're in no danger.  Within a couple of days this will all be over and 
you'll be back in your lives and your memory restored.” 

“I shall leave you all in the capable hands of my colleague, my
friends.”  Pertwee said as he came forward and shook hands with each of 
them one more time.  “Until tomorrow, then.”  He nodded to O'Hara and 
walked out through one of the side doors.  Soon he'd be in the lab and 
be able monitor progress from there.  Part of him thought he should 
have stayed inside with O'Hara to escort the guests just in case she 
began to feel a bit of queasy conscience.   That, however, was 
unlikely, because despite the fact she had a bleeding heart- she was 
none the less a scientist and this was her work.  She had to see it 
through despite her misgivings. 

***** 

Joe walked alongside Dr. Morgan O'Hara.  She was a woman who quite
obviously had a mind to match her physical gifts.  Intellect and beauty 
was a combination he loved more than anything, but he'd seen something 
in her emerald eyes.  Pain, perhaps.  A trace of anger at Pertwee as 
well. 

“How long have you been here, Dr. O'Hara?” he asked. 

“A few months since we opened it,” she replied in a clinical unemotional
voice.  “We hope it will become a way to rid the world of many mental 
diseases, including amnesia.” 

“Forgive me if I pry, but you didn't seem to be friendly with Dr.
Pertwee.  It seemed forced.” 

“Look, Joe, that's your name?  Joe?”  He nodded.  “Lets just say Dr.
Pertwee and I don't always see eye to eye, but that's normal for 
professional colleagues, correct?” 

“Of course.” 

“That's all it is.” 

The corridor was long and dimly lit.  The pale carpet was thick and
comfortable and the doors were off white with polished brass hardware.  
It had the feel of a luxury hotel. 

“Well I couldn't help over-hearing, Doc, but if you were my co-worker
I'd do anything I had to in order to get along with you.  Get my 
drift?”  Joey began to laugh but stopped when O'Hara turned and punched 
her finger to his chest. 

“Perhaps that is why I go out of my way not to be too friendly to male
colleagues, who despite all their education, remain as dim as a typical 
ball player.”  Joe looked at the floor like a hurt schoolboy, the 
chastisement had been a direct hit.  Jay openly laughed.  “This is your 
room, Joey.”  O'Hara pulled a key ring out of her pocket and opened the 
door. 

Joey looked around at his companions, his face flushed with
embarrassment and walked into his room.  Joe was going to check out the 
room but the doctor shut it quickly. 

“Hey doesn't he get a key?  I mean what if he wants to leave?” 

“A key is on the dresser.  I cannot allow you to see other rooms. 
Perhaps when you are moving about tomorrow you can show each other your 
rooms, but I cannot.  It's against the rules, Okay?”  She gave him a 
forced, weary smile. 

“Yes, that's fine.” 

“I just want to crash.  I slept on the plane but this whole nightmare
has me exhausted,” Jay said. 

Joe noticed Jay was looking O'Hara over with a look one could only
describe as menacing.  He hid it well, but Joe noticed it.  He bet 
O'Hara did too for she didn't seem the type to miss much. 

“Jay, this is your room,” she said opening it up.  “Key is on the
dresser.”   With a quick glance at Joe and at O'Hara's ass, Jay 
disappeared behind the closed door. 

“I don't care for that man,” she said. 

“I don't much either, but he's in this with Joey and I.” 

O'Hara nodded and led him down the corridor. 

“Joey didn't mean anything by what he said, Doctor O'Hara.  He's just a
fun-loving guy.  I imagine his childish view of things will allow him 
to get past this whole experience easier than we will.” 

She stopped and opened a door. “All of you will get past it just fine. 
Please try not to worry and get some sleep.” 

“It's not that late, Doc.  Can we talk a bit?” 

“Most of the time guests find that once they get in their rooms, they
are quite tired from the journey.  Believe me your body is tired.” 

“Please, Doctor O'Hara, I would much prefer to ask you some questions.” 

“Joe, not now.”  In her eyes he could see conflict and pain, but nothing
criminal.  There was a great deal inside her head, demons of some sort, 
but he felt he could trust her.  “Very well,” he replied.  He shook her 
hand and smiled.  She gave him a smile back and he entered his room.  
Before he found the light the door shut and it was black. 

Feeling around the wall, he finally found a switch and the room
illuminated to reveal luxury.  The king-sized bed was of beautifully 
carved wood with deep blue satin coverings. From where was standing in 
the hall he could see his bathroom was huge, dominated by marble 
counters, a sunken tub and a spacious shower stall.  A shower sounded 
wonderful but he wanted look around a bit first.  There was a desk and 
dresser of the same kind of fine wood as the bed, oak perhaps.  As Dr. 
O'Hara had said, there was key sitting on top of the dresser.  Through 
another door was a living room, with a couch, upholstered with green 
silk, and a kitchen.  Joe opened the fridge and found it well stocked 
with meats, fruits and cheeses.  There was also beer, though he didn't 
recognize the brand, bottled water and various types of juice.    He 
certainly would be comfortable, but if he was only going to be here a 
short time, why so lavish a room?  As he moved about the suite, Joe 
realized what was missing; a phone, a television and windows.  In other 
words- the outside world.  A ghastly feeling grew in the pit of his 
stomach, something wasn't right and he wanted answers.  Grabbing the 
key and opening his door, which he half expected to be locked, he went 
into the hall and called for Jay and Joey.  There was no answer.  
Nobody came, nor did any door even peek open. It was then he felt a 
rush if fatigue overtake him.  The hall spun and he leaned up against 
his door frame, nearly falling into his room.  The food must have ben 
drugged, he realized.  Stumbling into his room, he fell on to his bed.  
He was out cold. 

***** 

Dr. Morgan O'Hara was in the lab.  Sweat soaked in her gray, skin tight
body suit, she rinsed her hair in the deep surgical sink.  The patient 
in the chair was unconscious, the rhythms emanating from the fitted 
rubber cap on his head showing no signs of trauma.  At least one thing 
was going right, she thought to herself.  Dr. Pertwee was across the 
room analyzing the data of the printout. 

“I see you're back, Dr. Morgan.  Did it go well?” 

“I'm not going back in there,” she told him.  O'Hara inspected the
electrodes on the patients arms, not wanting to look at her colleague.  
“I hate going in there.” 

“Come, come, my beautiful genius, this entire place is your life's work
come to fruition.” 

“Not exactly as I had envisioned it, is it?” 

“Must we go there again?” Pertwee walked over and turned her around,
holding her shoulders.  Up close she could see the ruttiness of his 
dark skin. “Research scientists all through history knew they may have 
to pay a price for scientific progress.  What makes you so special?” 

O'Hara tried to pull away with a shrug but he held her firm.  She looked
into his eyes with controlled contempt. 

“Morgan, you're a beautiful and brilliant woman.  That combination can
help you go a long way in this world.  Why not let go of your personal 
views of morality?” 

“A cure to mental illness. That is what my work is supposed to be
about.” 

“Your point?” 

“That is NOT what we're doing here.” 

“Isn't it?” 

O'Hara yanked herself away.  “I hate wearing this thing and the way you
stare at me makes my skin crawl.  Forget it, Pertwee.  I'll never fuck 
you.” 

“Always charming, my dear,” Pertwee called after her. 

“I'm going to my room to take a shower and then a nap.  I'm not going
back in.  I won't do it.” 

“You'll have to.” 

O'Hara stopped and turned.  “You have no authority to force me.” 

“No, I don't,” Pertwee said with a smiling shake of his head.  “But
others do.”  He looked up at the large rectangular black glass that 
loomed over the lab.  “Besides, at least two of those three men are 
thinking about you.  I have a feeling this won't work unless you go see 
them again.” 

She hated so many things about Pertwee it was impossible to catalog
them. Above all she hated his smugness when he knew he was right.  
Though the government was forcing her to use her research in a way 
other than she envisioned, the work was still important and a failure 
now would shut the entire project down.  This program would eventually 
save lives, she knew this, but right now she loathed the work and 
herself. 

“I wonder if Oppenheimer felt as I do right now?” 

“He was a brilliant man who did his job, as you will do yours.” 

O'Hara turned and left, slamming the door behind her. 

***** 

Joey awoke in his room with a warm pleasurable sensation on his lips. 
Instinctively he raised his arms and felt the soft curves of a woman as 
he returned her kiss with a desperate passion.  She had the subtle 
aroma of expensive perfume.  Opening his eyes he saw he was kissing one 
of the blonde nurses from earlier.  He had a million questions but for 
now was content to continue kissing her, moving his mouth to her neck 
and breasts, which were exposed nicely, bulging out of a red halter 
tank top.  Just as he was going to slip the straps of her tank down, 
she moved off his bed and smiled. 

“We can do that later,” she giggled, “all night if you want.” Her face
sparkled from her smile.  The blonde locks curled demurely down over 
her shoulders.  God he wanted her and he wanted her now.  “Get up, 
Baby,” she said as she pulled open a couple of his dresser drawers.  
Joey was staring at her ass, framed tight, faded blue jeans.  When she 
turned around he saw her flat, tanned tummy with belly button ring.  
“You have a game to pitch.” 

“What?”  What in the hell was she talking about?  “A game to pitch?” 

“Yeah, Baby, I want to watch you pitch and then we'll come back here and
fuck like rabbits.”  She hopped on the bed and kissed him, wrapping her 
self around him and he gripped her tight.  All he wanted right now was 
to get inside this sensual creature.  He felt her nibble his neck and 
he slipped a hand into her jeans to feel a firm ass cheek and a lacy 
thong, before she slid away again. 

“Hey come back here.”  Joey wasn't in the mood for a tease.  “Let's have
some fun first.” 

“We can't the game is ready to start.  The uniform is in the dresser.
I'll be back in a few.”  The girl winked and walked out of his room. 

Joey's head was spinning with desire and confusion.  He got up and found
an old style flannel Cubs uniform- maybe from the 1930s- but it looked 
brand new.  It was ultra white with dark blue piping and the Cubs logo 
over the breast. It was a perfect replica of a uniform not worn in over 
a hundred years.  A cap and old style glove sat next to the jersey and 
pants.   There was a pair of spikes on the floor and he knew they'd 
fit.  Somehow he knew these people, whoever they were, knew more about 
himself than he did.   He dressed and a few minutes later the girl came 
back in his room after a cursory knock. 

“You ready, Baby?”  She put her arms around his neck.  He lowered his
face to hers and kissed her mouth deep. 

“Yeah.  Where is this game?” 

“Just follow me,” the girl said taking his hand and leading him out the
door, into the hall and through another door. 

Walking through the door Joey found himself on the mound at Wrigley
Field in Chicago, but it was different.  The walls in outfield didn't 
have the ivy over the bricks.  The crowd was roaring and the catcher 
was screaming at him.  “Get your damn head in the game.” 

How in the world was this possible?   The catcher screaming at him was
Gabby Hartnett, the player manager of the Cubs in the late thirties.  
Sanding at the plate was Joe DiMaggio of the New York Yankees.   
Somehow and some way Joey was pitching on a gray, cool day in the 1938 
World Series.  His baseball mind kicked in and he immediately knew the 
situation.  There were two out, nobody on, the great DiMaggio up, and a 
big strong man on deck swinging a bat; Lou Gehrig. All he could think 
about was that he was living a dream come true and he wasn't going to 
worry about how it was possible.  Thoughts of the beautiful girl faded 
as his mind focused on the game he loved.  He'd read books about the 
man at the plate and now here he was.  After rubbing up the baseball, 
Joey went into his wind up.  I'm pitching to Joe DiMaggio, he whispered 
to himself, letting the pitch fly. 

***** 

Jay was laying in his darkened room, fantasies moving through his mind. 
Nothing helped him sleep more than his fantasies.  He'd always had 
overactive imagination which helped him escape in his mind from his 
dull and dreary existence.  But how did he know it was dreary?  He 
couldn't remember so many key facts; his last name, his family, what he 
liked to do away from his work at the Criminal Interrogations Branch.  
Nothing made sense anymore.  How could he remember his fantasies and 
his work, but nothing else?  Who were these other two yahoos he'd come 
in with on that plane?   If he could get Dr. Pertwee alone, he'd be 
able to get some information. Once the good doctor found out for real 
about his connections with the government, he'd tell him what's going 
on.  There was no chance of his coming clean in front of that pilot and 
the silly ball player.  Jay was sure Pertwee would see reason far more 
than that uppity bitch Dr. O'Hara.  She was easy to see through.  
Morgan O'Hara liked to look down on all people she felt were her 
inferior, and that no doubt included all men.  Oh yes, that 
oh-so-superior bitch would be plenty nice to him if she were facing him 
with a whip in his hand. 

Jay's fantasy involving Morgan O'Hara was interrupted when he heard a
moan.  Realizing he wasn't alone, he sat up in the bed and turned on 
the lamp.  Looking around the large suite he heard the moans but saw 
nothing. 

“Who's there?”  He got out of bed and waked around in his briefs and
t-shirt.  Seeing his pants laying on the floor he put them on and 
turned the lights to the living room on but nobody was there either.  
Again the moans came, louder.  They weren't sexual moans, they were 
more whimpered, terrified moans.  It was a woman's voice, muffled in 
some way.  “Where are you?” He called out, not at all sure if he wanted 
to help her or just see her predicament.  	He was startled when he 
heard a knock on the door.  Cautiously he went up and looked through 
the peep hole.  It was a strikingly beautiful, tall woman with long 
dark hair in black chemise covered by a sheer, floor length charcoal 
robe. 

“What is it?” Jay asked through the door. 

“Mr. Jay, the subject is ready,” the woman said softly.  Her deep brown
eyes looked back at him through the hole as if the door wasn't there.  
He opened turned the handle slowly. 

“What's going on?” 

“Come, Mr. Jay,” she extended her hand.  “Everything is ready for you.” 

“What are you talking about?”  He took her hand unable to stop himself
from going with her.  She walked him down the hall to a red door he'd 
not seen when they arrived.  “Where's Dr. Pertwee?  I'd like to talk to 
him.” 

“Soon,” she said.  “But first a matter requires your attention.”  She
opened the door and stood aside letting him enter, she moved up behind 
him after the closing the door and her hands were on his shoulders as 
she whispered in his ear.  “You like what you see?”   Jay nodded. 

It was a torture chamber.  Gray concrete floors and walls, a table with
all sorts of tools to the side including whips, knives, even some 
strange objects he couldn't identify.  It was what was in the center of 
the room, though, that had him mesmerized.  A nude woman, chained by 
her wrists to a hook in the ceiling, her long red hair hanging down to 
her waist as she looked up and struggled with her binds, whimpering and 
pleading through a black ball-gag. At first Jay thought it might be 
O'Hara, but it wasn't.  Still the svelte beauty was exquisite. She was 
a stretched canvas, he feet barely able to touch the cold floor, 
waiting to be painted.  The whimpered moans of fear were hers.  How 
could he have heard them in his suite?  That didn't matter.  Her fear 
filled him with arousal and the more she whimpered the more like sweet 
music it sounded.  With the gag removed he could make her scream and 
that would be a symphony. 

“What did you do to get into this position, honey?”  He touched the
nipple of her right breast and the woman struggled away from his touch. 
Jay looked at the brunette. 

“Mr. Jay, this woman is in need of a whipping.”  The woman screamed
through her gag when he gripped her breast tightly in his hand.  She 
was delicious all stretched out and helpless. 

“What did she do?” 

“She was caught with a man who was not her husband.” The brunette came
up to him and put her arms around him, her mouth at his ear, nibbling 
and whispering.  “She is ready for you and you want to whip her, don't 
you?” 

“Yes,” he replied, his gaze at the woman's terrified green eyes.  “I
want to whip her.” 

“Do it.”  The brunette stepped back as Jay retrieved a short cat-o-nine
tails whip from the table.  The shorter whips allowed him to get closer 
and smell the fear of the victim. 

Jay's arousal deepened when he moved up behind the woman and kissed her
shoulder.  “You have beautiful skin,” he told her.  “It will bruise 
magnificently.”  The bound captive sobbed with terror as she kept 
struggling to free her wrists.  He stepped back and gazed over the 
curves of his victim, his eyes resting on the creamy smooth small of 
her back.  It was the perfect place to begin. 

***** 

Joe woke instantly to incessant pounding on his door.  He was still
dressed laying across his bed.  On instinct he got off the bed and 
squatted down.  A shadow lurked in the beam of light under the door. 

“Joe, wake up!”  It was Dr. O'Hara's voice.  She was frantically
screaming for him to get up.  “Joe!” 

Moving up to the door, Joe looked through the hole and verified it was
her.  She wore the harried expression of extreme stress and the same 
business suit.  He watched her push her glasses up her nose, looking up 
and down the hallway as if worried about being seen.  Joe opened the 
door. 

“You have to leave,” she said when she saw him.  “You have to leave now.
Right now.” 

“Wait, hold on, what about the others?” 

“There's no time.” O'Hara grabbed his arm and yanked him into the hall. 
“Hurry.  Come on.” 

Joe found himself running through the corridor with Dr. O'Hara.  She was
running in heels and he couldn't understand how she was doing it- or 
why that would matter to him.  He thought this was all some sort of 
crazy dream.  Before passing out he'd thought he might have been 
drugged.  Joe stopped running. 

“Wait.  I want to know what the fuck is going on!” 

O'Hara stopped and walked back, out of breath.  “There's no time. You're
in danger.” 

“The others, where are they?” 

“I don't know, their rooms are empty.  This is your one and only chance
to get out of here.” 

“I can't just leave them,” he said, he started pounding on doors in the
corridor.  “Joey, Jay?  You guys hear me?” 

“Those are not their rooms, I already told you they weren't there.  If
you don't follow me you will never leave here.  Never.  Do I make 
myself clear, Joe?  Never.” 

Joe could see something in her eyes.  Pain.  Worry.  Guilt.  “You know
what happened to them don't you?” 

“They're gone.  You can save yourself or stay.  Your call.” 

“Please tell me,” he touched her face but she pulled away.  “I know you
want to help me, I trust you, but you're not telling me everything.” 

“I can't.  All I can do is help you get away, and unless you leave now,
I won't even be able to do that.”  O'Hara moved away from him to a 
green service door of some sort.  When she opened it Joe could see the 
plane.  It was sitting there in the darkness on the field. 

“How the hell?” 

“Do you want to go or not?” 

“We walked a ways to get here, now you open a door and the plane is
right here in the field where we left it?” 

“It's a large underground building, Joe.  I could give you a guided tour
but then you'd have no chance to get out of here.”  O'Hara stood by the 
open door looking around nervously.  “What is your problem?” 

“You obviously hate this place, come with me.  We can get help and get
some people back here.” 

“I can't go, I'd be missed.  You go and blow the lid off the place.” 
The beautiful face seemed to be searching for something to say.  
Finally she said, “Remember to tell them I tried to help you.” 

Joe took a step into the doorway, but stopped.  “I don't even know where
we are.” 

“Head due west, as you would have if you passed by the island.  You'll
soon see where you are.” 

“Thank you.”  Joe looked around and saw the skies were clouded over.  It
was darkest of nights.  No moon or stars.  It meant instruments would 
be essential.  “Fuel?” 

“Taken care of, I swear.  Go.” 

“Dr. O' Hara....Morgan.....” Joe took her hand and kissed it.  “I'll be
back, I assure you.” 

“You have to leave first,” she said pulling her hand back.  “Good luck. 
Hurry.”  She stepped in the door and shut it in Joe's face. 

Joe looked around for any signs of trouble. When he turned back toward
the door, it was gone.  He was alone in the field with the plane.  
Terror gripped him, but this was his chance and he had to take it.  
Within minutes he was in the plane heading due west. 

***** 

Dr. Morgan O'Hara was again drenched in the sweat that going inside
brought.  The eyes riveted on her back didn't help either.  Pertwee was 
coming up behind her as she took vital signs of the man in the chair.  
His heart rate was up along with his pulse, but that was expected.  
Using the patient as a buffer between she and the disagreeable man 
looking over her shoulder wasn't working. 

“It went well in there, I assume?”  Pertwee's hand on her shoulder. 
O'Hara moved away to the other side of the patient in the chair.  The 
cap on his head was warm. 

“Dr. O'Hara, I wish you could see the significance of the of the
achievement upon which we now stand at the precipice. So much will 
change for the human condition, so many lives will be made better.  Yet 
all you see is the negative side to things.  Why can't you be a team 
player?”  He tried to touch her again, but managed to avoid his eager 
fingers. In the gray body suit she felt naked in front him. 

“I think of it as standing before the abyss,” she said as she started to
leave the lab. 

“Doctors, would you care to join me up here?”  It was the voice of the
ancient looking white man from Washington DC who didn't seem to have a 
name other than ‘the liaison.' He was behind the one way window in the 
viewing room atop the lab.  O'Hara couldn't stand him, but unlike 
Pertwee, who she viewed as an unoriginal hack with lecherous 
tendencies, this was a man she feared. 

“I'd prefer to go shower,” she said up to the large black rectangle. 

“That can wait.  Come up here.  Both of you.” 

***** 

Joey had worked the count to 2-2 on the great Joe DiMaggio with
fastballs and curves.  The legendary Yankee outfielder fouled off a few 
pitches he thought might have gotten him, but again, this was not the 
usual hitter he was facing.  It must be a sort of fantasy, or perhaps a 
test.  Why else would he be standing on the mound facing a man who 
became a baseball god a half century before he was born?  Hartnett 
called time and scampered out to the mound. 

“What do you think?” the old Cub catcher/manager asked.  “He's seen both
your speed and breaking ball.  How about a change after trying to go 
off the plate a bit with another fastball?” 

“I'll get him with my slider.  He's never seen one.” 

“Slider?  What the hell are you talking about?” 

Joey laughed.  Nobody knew what a slider was in 1938. 

“Just my name for a new breaking pitch.  It's going to break hard and
down toward his feet, so be ready.  I think we'll get him to swing at 
it.” 

“A new pitch and you're gonna use it now?” 

“It'll work.  Just be ready to block it if it dives for the dirt.” 

“You're nuts,” Hartnett said and then trotted back to home plate. He was
crouched and ready. 

Joey took his windup, as his arms reached the top of his motion he
gripped the ball for his slider and came through firing it toward home 
plate.  DiMaggio's bat came forward at the same instant he realized 
he'd hung his slider in the middle of the strike zone giving the great 
man a fat pitch to hit. A split second after hearing the crack of the 
bat, he found himself on the ground looking up at a dimming sky, 
shadows encircling him. 

It was the last thing Joey would ever see. 

***** 

“My god it's like looking at a movie.”  The liaison smiled and looked
over at O'Hara.  She stared into space, wanting to be anywhere but 
here, her thoughts on Joe and her own actions. 

“Dr. O'Hara, it's incredible.”  The old man said.  She finally looked at
him.  His dark eyes peering out at her through heavy, wrinkled lids.  
He was dressed casually in khaki slacks and a green polo, but she could 
easily picture him in Washington wearing the standard dark suit, white 
shirt and red tie.  “The possibilities are limitless- like your 
potential and future, my good doctor.” 

“Thank you,” she whispered.  She watched Pertwee adjust the small
monitor screen. 

“It's coming in,” Pertwee said. 

***** 

Jay held the whip in his hand and glanced over at the brunette, sitting
in a small chair across the dungeon, smile on her face.  The woman was 
struggling in the binds, her arms stretched up tight toward the 
ceiling. 

“Remove her gag,” he asked the brunette, who then got up and took the
ball gag from the victim's mouth.  “I want to hear the screams in all 
their beautiful fullness.” 

“NO, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS.  I BEG YOU,” the woman screamed in a
quivering, horrified voice. Just an appetizer compared to what was 
coming, thought  Jay. 

“Beg me while you scream in pain, my dear.  It will make this more even
more enjoyable.”  Jay raised the whip and brought it down on the 
woman's lower back. 

The screams began, but they weren't hers.  They were his.  Jay was
bound, naked and trembling, and both the brunette and redhead were 
whipping him unmercifully.  He tried to beg them to stop but he was 
gagged.  The pain shot through his body as the leather ripped into his 
skin. His back, legs, arms were being tortured with a steady barrage.  
When they began striking him in the front, he tried to keep his legs 
together, but the brunette kicked his legs open wide.  When the redhead 
snapped the whip on his penis he passed out from the agony. 

He never woke up. 

***** 

O'Hara walked out of the viewing room, paying no attention to the kudos
coming her way from the vile men she left behind.  Down in the lab she 
helped the three girls come out of their stasis.  Carefully removing 
the electrodes from Janice's forehead, she asked how she was feeling. 

“I'm fine, but tired.  It takes a lot of out of you, doesn't it?”  She
sat up on the table, pulling at her gray body suit, her short blonde 
hair matted to her head.  “God these things are uncomfortable once you 
get hot.” 

“They raise your body temperature and yeah it isn't at all fun once you
come out, but other than that you're fine?”  O'Hara looked around at 
the other two.  “You're all fine?”  All three women nodded. 

“It was scary.  I thought for a minute.....” 

“I understand,” O'Hara, said, stopping Dana, a beautiful and wonderfully
gifted redhead , from saying anything else under the ears of the men 
behind the glass.  “All three of you did well.” 

“Did we really do that, Doctor O'Hara?”  It was Kimberly.  The tall
brunette with the striking eyes.   “I didn't like it.” 

“I know, I understand.  We'll all talk later.  Okay?”  Three women each
wearily smiled and left the lab. 

O'Hara again checked the vitals of the man in the chair, half of her
hoping he was in distress so this could be over.  Thoughts of Joe 
flying the plane filled her head. 

“There's still one more, Dr. O'Hara.  Coming back up?”  Pertwee didn't
say it as if it were a question.    “We're having trouble locating him. 
Do you know if there's a problem?” 

Turning her face away from the window, she fought back tears.  “I'll be
there in a minute,” she said quietly. 

***** 

Joe was fighting with the plane and himself.  He was disoriented and the
instrument panel had stopped working.  The radio was dead.  He couldn't 
even tell if he was still on a westerly course as Morgan O'Hara had 
instructed him.  While at the center he'd felt his memory was coming 
back to him.  Now he was once again in a fog- ink surrounded his brain 
and the plane.  Concentration was impossible.  He had to get above the 
clouds in order to use the stars as a guide, or get below them, but 
that was dangerous.  What he couldn't do was fly blind and have no idea 
where he was or which direction he was going. 

“Is anyone out there?”  Joe tried the radio again.  “Anybody at all?” 
It was no use.  He started to climb, knowing he needed altitude.  
Pulling on the stick he moved the plane up.  Angrily, he pounded the 
instrument panel, but it was lifeless.  Nothing was working but the 
turbo-prop on this craft. 

Moving up through the blackness, Joe though he saw some clear sky.  He
pulled back still further, the plane climbing vertically.  It was then 
he saw the water rushing up at him.  In those final seconds he realized 
he'd gone upside down in his disorientation and was now in what pilots 
called “the dead man's dive.” 

“Oh Fuck,” he yelled out to nobody and desperately tried to level the
plane out.  It was too late.  The last thing Joe saw was the spay 
hitting the plane's windshield before crashing into the sea. 

***** 

Pertwee turned off the monitor screen and smiled back at the old man and
O'Hara.  “It boggles the mind does it not?” 

“I shall report that Dr. O'Hara's technology is ready for use. 
Congratulations Dr. O'Hara.”  The old man extended his hand.  O'Hara 
shook her head and got up, moving toward the door.  “Doctor, this could 
mean a Nobel prize.” 

She turned, not believing her ears.  “Do you?  Do you really?  I hardly
think so once the people learn how my cap is being utilized.”  O'Hara 
was going to continue but decided to leave the room.  A few minutes 
later she was by the patient, removing the cap carefully from his 
shaved head as he slowly came out of his stasis. 

“How are you feeling?” 

He opened and closed his eyes repeatedly.  His hands, now free of
electrodes, rubbed his eyes. 

“Can you tell me what year it is?” She asked 

“2057,” the man replied. 

O'Hara nodded as she wiped his face with a wet cloth. 

“Your name, Sir?” 

“Joseph P. Kellar.” 

“What do you do for a living, Joe?”  O'Hara was fighting tears, she
turned and pretended to check the controls. 

“I work in the mail room for the Criminal Interrogations Branch.” 

“The last thing you remember?” 

“I was taken by some men and put into a van.  My god what is going on?” 

“You were rescued, Joe.  We wanted to make sure you're okay and you
are.” 

“My wife and kids?” 

“You'll be with them later today.   I have another question.” 

“Yes?”  Joe leaned forward out of the chair.  His drab medical robe
hanging loosely on his body.  “God, my head is killing me.” 

“We'll give you something for the headache.  It's all part of the
process.  What are your goals, dreams?  What is it you want to do with 
your life?” 

Joe looked confused for a second and then gazed up at her with an open
and honest expression.  A calm had come over him.  “I want to be a good 
husband, father and employee in the mail room.  That's okay isn't it?” 

“You have no other dreams or desires?” 

He shook his head.  “No.”  The man looked around the lab, his expression
blank. “When can I go?” 

O'Hara pressed a button and two girls came into the lab and assisted
Joseph P. Kellar out of the lab.  Within a day or two he'd be back in 
his normal life.  The memory of the center would fade within hours.  
She looked up at the black glass of the viewing room. 

“It worked,” she said, hating herself.  “I wish you people could see the
beneficial uses of my cap.  If only I had funding from someone who 
cared for humanity rather than...” 

“Enough, Dr. O'Hara,” interrupted the voice of the old man.  “You've
done exceedingly well here and believe me the cap will be utilized in 
all of its various options.” 

O'Hara stormed out of the lab. 

***** 

“She's got a bleeding heart and a brilliant mind,” said the old man. 
“Dangerous. We'll have to watch her.” 

“Dr. O'Hara feels her cap could eliminate multiple personality disorder,
bi-polar, nearly every type of mental illness.”  Pertwee feared the 
government was going to take her away from the center.  “She might be 
right.  I think this demonstration shows that.  Could we not do both 
types of work?” 

“Of course we can, Dr. Pertwee.”  The old man smiled.  “This is a major
step for all of mankind, but it is also a major step in controlling 
crime and the masses.” 

“Sir, I understand why we took his dark desires for sadism, but why the
baseball and pilot dreams?” 

“It's simple really, the baseball dream kept him from focusing on his
life.  Flying was his goal- he wanted to learn, but that would take him 
from where we need him.  He's a mail room clerk and that's what he 
should be happy with.” 

“So you picked him especially for this test?” 

The old man nodded.  “We wanted to keep the test ‘in-house' as they say.
 We looked into his life a bit when he applied for interrogator 
training.  Turns out our little mail clerk had a taste for inflicting 
pain, or at least he thought he did.  Lots of time spent on sadist web 
sites. That's not good for an interrogator.  The best interrogators 
don't become aroused at pain infliction- if they do they enjoy their 
job too much and the subject ends up dead.  Get my meaning?” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

“Plus that dark desire, the sadism, can manifest itself into a
rebellious nature and that's where revolutions come from.  Now Mr. 
Kellar is happy with himself and will remain happy with his lot in 
life. ” 

“Won't we need people with goals and dreams, Sir?”  Pertwee had goals
and dreams and feared someone like this old man erasing them. 

“Yes of course, but we will decide who those people are, Pertwee.  The
masses, on the other hand, will be happy, content, and most 
importantly, controlled.  Get the picture?” 

“Yes, Sir.”  Pertwee smiled and looked down at the lab. The cap laying
there on the chair. 

***** 

In her room. Dr. Morgan O'Hara had just finished sobbing.  Now staring
at herself in the bathroom mirror she wondered if she'd ever stop 
hating herself.   Her cap was an opening to the human mind.  It was now 
possible to journey into the center of the human mind and guide someone 
out of a terrible situation or illness.  It could do so much good.  The 
mystery of the human mind, the enormous potential within it, could at 
last be explored and understood.  She splashed water on her face and 
patted herself with a towel. 

“The best intentions...” she said aloud.  The tears again filling her
eyes.  Dr. Morgan O'Hara wondered if she was the modern Dr. 
Frankenstein and the cap her monster. 

TC


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