Mostly Hidden, Chapter Eleven

In some time long passed, two young men, brothers, made a plan. They had both lost someone dear to them due to some type of corruption at Mind Pharmaceuticals.
Their father had worked there, and had paid for it with his life. Before he died, he had began exposing some small part of it, scrawled away into documents in his office.
Gerard, the elder brother, had originally found them while going through things some time after the funeral. He had scanned over them quickly, grasping the horror of it, and showed them to Michael. They had read and re-read them, trying to squeeze every bit of information out of it. Once they had each read them so much they almost had them memorized, they burnt the pages.
The path of their life they’d led so far was littered with ashes and scraps of burnt paper.
They had spent close to a year planning, and perfecting the plan they came up with, further and further, until it was nearly foolproof. The only variable left was that of human error – not theirs, but that of others -, but they had certain things planned that could at least minimize the damage that could cause.
There was only one chink left in their plan, though. Gerard had studied and planned and thought for far too many sleepless nights, and knew there was one thing that had to be done that he couldn’t tell Michael about.
It was utterly necessary, he knew. For the amount of information they’d need to document, they would both need to be “on the inside”, yes, but not necessarily the “inside” of the same place.
Gerard knew there were very shady connections with a nearby prison, the Keene State Correctional Facility. This was one of the most incriminating things connected with Mind Pharmaceuticals, and he knew that they would need information from within that corrupted system as well.
It had been fairly easy to set up, and he had made it so that it wouldn’t be too long of a sentence, just long enough for the plans to take place, but he framed Michael for a crime, so as to land him in the prison. Michael didn’t know anything about it until it happened and, even then, Gerard was nowhere to be seen.
Truth was, he had hid himself in remorse. No, not just remorse; remorse mixed with a feeling of glee at taking the first big move in the plan; he knew the ball was rolling, now, and there wasn’t any way to stop its movement.
He started as an intern at the company, and quickly worked his way up. His outwardly calm demeanor and excellent abilities aided him in that, as he had predicted. Soon he was in the perfect position to gather the information he needed, and gather he did, Michael loathing him and thinking him a traitor the entire time.

Clyde sat at his desk, feeding Andrew and thinking about his updated plan. He glanced at the leather notebook – a smaller notebook by the side that now served as the overflow – that held everything.
His phone rang and he almost fell out of his chair. He had actually forgotten he had a phone in here, it rang so rarely.
Clyde recovered from the surprise and picked up the phone.
“Hello, you’ve reached Clyde Edison.”
“One moment.”
He didn’t recognize the voice, but there was a moment of silence before a different voice spoke this time.
“Hey, is this Clyde?”
Clyde didn’t recognize this voice either, but continued. “Yes, it is.”
“I’ve got something to tell you that I think you’ll be quite interested to hear.”
“Okay.” Two interesting things in one day? What a lucky day for him. “What’s your name?”
“Jem Drake.”
Clyde, phone still pressed against his ear, retrieved the two notebooks from the bookshelf and flipped one of them open, scanning for a name. Ah, yes, Jem was the one who was blackmailing Devin. Perfect.
“It’s nice to hear from you, Jem. I actually just heard about you a few hours ago.”
“Wait, really? How? Wait, no, I don’t really want to know, it doesn’t matter. Point is, there’s someone working for you named Devin who is planning some sort of coup.”
“I know. That’s how I learned about you, actually.”
“Huh. Anyway, from what I know about you – not much, but enough – I think we might work well together.”
“And what, precisely, would we be working on together?”
Jem hesitated. “Well, I guess, ending this.”
Without responding to the proposition, Clyde spoke. “Do you know anything about Gerard?”
“No. At least not directly. I haven’t heard his name, but Devin implied he was working with someone, and this Gerard could very well be that person.”
“It is. I don’t know who is the leader in this all, but that doesn’t particularly matter.”
Clyde’s computer screen was on in front of him, and he noticed a notification blinking in one window. That particular window was a sort of “log” of the more shadowed proceedings that happened at Mind Pharmaceuticals, and he noticed that one of the test subjects had just died.
Jem hadn’t responded yet, so Clyde spoke again. “Do you, by any chance, know someone named Christopher?”
“Yes. He was taken into your company as a test subject. I’m guessing Gerard specifically requested him as an attempt to make me join them, to be reunited with him or some shit.”
“Well, you don’t have any hope of that. He just died.”
“In one of the drug trials. Let me.. check something.”
Clyde navigated through a few pages connected with that log of activities, and found what he was looking for; the overseer of the trial.
“Ah, I thought so,” he said.
“It was overseen by Gerard.”
“I’d imagine he was going to attempt to pin it on me as a way to make him join…”
Jem cut him off. “Fuck him. Fuck him! Yeah, that’s what he would’ve done. Fuck him. Okay. I don’t know how, but I want to help you. I want to end him with you.”
Clyde smiled. His re-invented plans had actually left a space for one extra person. It would have been possible without another person, but more difficult. This was perfect.
“I think we can work that out,” Clyde responded.
“First of all, though, I’m going to need you to ‘fall’ for his plan. I have no doubt that they’ll be contacting you soon in some way or another, and you need to join them. Make it believable, too.”
“I can do that easily.”
Clyde flipped through his notebook until he found the section he was looking for. He made a few amendments, then began talking Jem through the plan.
He smiled. This was just so fucking perfect.

Jem hung up the phone when their conversation was over and handed it back to the guard.
“Took a while,” the guard said.
“Yup. What, you gonna charge me extra?”
The guard frowned at him and led him back to his cell, locking him in.
As soon as the guard had left and there was no one around, Jem let out a laugh. Everything was in place, and he wanted to celebrate. He smiled at his stash, knowing just the perfect thing for that. Hell, since he was joining Gerard and Devin, he might even get some more of this, for a little while at first. Before the third step of the plan was enacted, anyway.
Checking once more that nobody was around, he retrieved the tripe and prepared it. He wasn’t going to get to inject it, much to his dismay, but snorting it would be almost as good. He shook out the powder onto a book he had in his cell – The Process of Rehabilitation -, a book he had chosen just specifically for this purpose.
He fished out a butter knife and straw he had stolen from the cafeteria, scraped the powder together into two lines, and snorted them, one in each nostril.
All the withdrawals had been worth it, he thought, just for this one moment. Utter relaxation and a sense of his consciousness floating on an endless ocean filled him, and he let out a sigh, falling backwards onto his cot. The pain from hitting his back on the metal edge didn’t phase him – he didn’t feel it at all, actually.
He adjusted his body so he was fully laying on his bed, one arm dangling over the side. He had waited so long for this. So very long. He let out a long, hard laugh.
He was suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open. He glanced over at the clock. Eh, it wasn’t too early to go to bed. He wanted to stay awake a little bit longer at least, to be able to feel this a little longer. He flipped open the same book he had snorted the tripe off of and flipped through it, laughing at the sections where they bashed the very drug that he was on right now.
Gradually, his eyelids drooped lower and lower until the book slid from his grasp and he fell asleep on his cot, his arm draped over the side as before.
One thought passed through his mind before he was completely asleep, a thought which left a smile on his face: I can’t wait to start this plan tomorrow.


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