“Have a good trip Hun!” Conner said, waving at his wife as she pulled out of their driveway in her small black convertible. “I love you!”
“Love you too Hun!” He hears her yell back as she turned into the col-duc-sac. “Take good care of Tommy!”
And with that, she sped off, and making her way around the circle of asphalt, and then out into the greater part of the city.
Conner turned away from the street, and stepped into the living room, closing the front door behind him. He walked to his office, and sat down at his computer. Before him was a massive spreadsheet of numbers. The latest set of statistics he had to analyze for work. After toying around with them for a few minutes, he was graciously interrupted.
“--No! No! No! No! No! No! No! Mama Mia! Mama Mia! Mama Mia, let him go!”
He picked his phone up from off of his desk. The caller ID read Samantha.
“Hey Conner! I was just calling to see if Brooke was around? Her phone is off.”
“Ah, yes. She is off to the airport. She has to fly to Seattle for work.”
“Oh, I see. When is she getting back? I was hoping to catch up with her.”
“She's coming back Sunday.”
“Three day trip? It must be pretty easy work then.”
“Relatively. She just had to serve as an expert witness for some corporate dispute.”
“Okay then. Well, give her my best. I'll try again Monday.”
“Alright, have a good day Sam.”
“You too Conner.”
He set the phone back on the desk, turning back to his spreadsheets, when he felt something brush against his leg. Looking down, he saw Tommy, his gray-white house cat. In reality, he belonged to both Conner and Brooke, but Conner liked to think that the cat liked him more. After all, he did feed him and deal with his litter. Tommy looked up at Conner, and meowed.
“What's up buddy? Do you want some food?”
Tommy meowed in response, with what seemed to be enthusiasm.
Conner got up out of his chair. “Okay buddy, let's get you some food.”
Making his way into the kitchen, Conner started for the dry food, before going to the cupboard and grabbing a can of tuna. He opened it, and poured it into Tommy's food bowl.
“Here you go buddy. A treat since Mommy's gone.”
Tommy meowed again, quite pleased with the break from the norm.
Deciding that he did not want to continue his work sifting through his work spreadsheets, Conner instead decided that he wanted to go on a walk in the park. He went to his bedroom to change. Upon entering the room, however, he noticed something strange. On Brooke's bedside table sat an unfamiliar book. It was a black leather book, with small gold-looking clasps on its front. Curious, Conner walked over the table, sat down on the bed, and opened the book. After thumbing through it, he realized that it was Brooke's diary. Conner had not known that Brooke had a diary, but he was not surprised. The amount of information that Brooke had to deal with on any given day for her work as a chemist was astonishing, and he did not understand any of it. He was about to close the diary, and put it back how he found it, when he noticed his name on one of the pages. He could not resist looking.
January 15th, 2007.
Today was a hard day at work. Johnson seemed to have an fire under his ass. He kept checking in every ten minutes or so on my progress. I think that he has a lot riding on my work. I just hope that I can deliver.
I had lunch today with Jeremy. I feel bad, because Conner doesn't like me meeting with him. He gets so jealous! I don't think that I will tell him about it...not for a while at least.
Conner's ears began to burn. It was a good choice that Brooke did not tell him about her meeting with Jeremy. Jeremy was her ex-boyfriend, and he had shown up drunk to their wedding, and professed his love for Brooke. Brooke seemed to think that it was not a problem, but he had always thought it was strange for her to be around him after that. Wondering what else she had been keeping from him, Conner continued to read.
January 20th, 2007
Today thing were weird at work. Johnson was waiting for me when I arrived at my lab. When I got in, he slammed the door behind me, and asked me how the project was coming along. When I told him that the specimen had lived, his face went stark white. He asked me if I had submitted the results. I had. When I told him, he got this look in his look in his eyes, almost like that of a caged animal. He didn't say anything after that, and he left the office.
I went back to my work, and a few hours later, Richmond came in, which never happens. She brought with her a man I've never seen before. His name was George Cook. She said that he was replacing Johnson, who had been transferred. She never said where he was transferred to though. I think he was fired. I think he was fired because my tests hadn't brought the results that Richmond wanted. I hope that he's okay.
January 27th, 2007
After a week with Cook, I have to say that he is not the worst boss in the world. He checks in more than Johnson used to, but he is always pleasant. Today he even bought me a coffee. I think things are going to go well with him and I. I still feel bad about Johnson though. I mean, it wasn't his fault that the results didn't pan out right for him.
March 24th, 2007
I think that I am getting close to the solution. The last few tests have proven extremely successful, with the sample's dying every time, and no trace remaining of the chemical remaining after several hours.
March 25th, 2007
Cook was waiting for me today outside of my office. He said that he was happy with my results, and that we were going to go to visit Richmond, but instead of going up to the third floor, we took the elevator down to the basement. He led me down the long hallway to a small room. It was pitch black once he closed the door behind us. Then, the room seemed to move beneath our feet. This happened for a few seconds, before the wall opened, and a different hallway appeared before us.
He took my arm, and pulled me along the corridor. It was whiter than snow, and there were glass windows along it's entire stretch. Inside of them, there were people in hospital beds, strung up with a bunch of wires. They were all asleep.
We finally reached the end of the hall, and Cook opened the large, double door, shoved me inside, and then closed them behind me. Inside, Richmond stood with her back to me. She was looking at a single, large medical room.
She turned when the door shut, smiling at me. She said that she read my findings, and was pleased that I had succeeded. She had me come up to the glass, so I could see my chemical being tested on a full sized subject.
But, to my horror, I realized who was in the room. It was Johnson! Richmond laughed when I realized who it was. She told me that he had volunteered to be the first test subject. I asked if he was sick, which only made her laugh more. She explained to me that I wasn't testing an new medicine. Then, Cook entered the room, and injected Johnson with the chemical. After a few minutes, he began to violently convulse. Then, after a few moments, his head snapped violently back, and foam began to ooze out of his mouth. He was dead.
It was then that Richmond told me the true purpose of my research. I had developed a new poison for her. She wouldn't tell me who she worked for though, and who had wanted this poison. She just told me that I was now complicit, and that if I told anyone that I would regret it. They said that both Conner and I are under constantly under surveillance, and that if we do anything, that they will know.
Conner set the diary down. He could not believe what he had just read. Had Brooke really been working on creating poison? Was she really responsible for Johnson's death? He picked the diary back up, and continued to read.
March 26th, 2007
Today, I went back to the hidden facility. I have decided to call it Hell, for that is what it really is. They are having me test the my poison on more people, to prove its efficacy under different circumstances. Today, I had to watch as young man, whose convulsions were much more mild than Johnson's. Instead, he slowly asphyxiated on the white foam that filled his lungs, and then trailed down his chest. His name was Brian. The chart said that he was a homeless man that they had taken off the street, offering him a bed and food for participating in a clinical trial. Looking at the other charts, it seems like that is how they got most of the people.
Then there was this young woman. Her name was Michelle. While I was administrating the chemical to her, she grabbed my arm. As the poison took its hold in her, she began to shake violently, and her grip tightened hard around my arm. I had to pry her hands off after she had finished convulsing.
I had to kill ten others today. I don't know how I am going to do this. I can't keep killing people, but if I stop, they'll just replace me and kill Conner. And if I tell anyone, they'll kill Conner...and I can't let that happen.
Please God, forgive me.
The next two months of entries went into great detail as to what she had done each day, giving the names of all of the people that she had tested the poison on, and going into ever more elaborate prayer for forgiveness from God. Tears streamed down Conner's face. Tommy jumped onto the bed, and meowed at him. Absentmindedly, he reached out and pet him, eyes still glued to the diary.
June 5th, 2007
Today is the first day that I didn't have to descend into Hell. Instead, Cook sent me to the lab that I had originally developed the chemical in. He told me that the poison had been discovered, and that they needed a new one, one that would be unknown to the world. I can't believe that I have to make another way for them to kill people...but at least it keeps me out of Hell, at least for a little while.
The next few months were devoid of any entries.
October 11th, 2007
I finished the new poison today. They took me back to Hell.
The next few weeks detailed her tests of the new poison, ended with an entry from the day before.
December 2nd, 2007
Tomorrow, I have to go to Seattle. They want me to go to some central lab there, and meet with some other scientists that the company has. I am afraid of what is to come. I hope that Conner and Tommy with be okay.
Conner set the diary down, and went back to his office. He grabbed his phone, and dialed Brooke's number. It went straight to voicemail.
“Brooke, honey. It's Conner. I found your diary. Are you okay? Please call me back. I'm scared honey.”
He stood there, eyes locked on his phone, his hand shaking.
Then, he heard someone knocking at the door.
He made his way through the living room to the door, and opened it. Standing there was a man in a black suit and sunglasses. He smiled, and pushed Conner back, into the house. Stepping in, he closed the door behind him, and then stabbed Conner with a syringe. The man held him down for a few minutes, and then dragged his body out of sight of the front door and windows, and then left him lying there, alone in the house.