September 21

“Hey John, I’m going to need your status report by the end of the day, don’t forget.” Travis Dawson pulled his head out of the lab door and continued down the hall of the lowest level of the Apollo Pharmaceuticals main building. He walked at a brisk pace, metal paneling passing him by, an endless track of polished silver. The walls were punctuated by doors every twenty feet, most closed and locked by retinal and fingerprint scanners. Four floors below ground in an eleven story building, these rooms housed the most important and top-secret of the company’s research, meaning he was walking past, and, as of a month ago, in charge of, billions of dollars’ worth of medicines and treatments owned by the pharmaceutical giant.

Only three years out of graduate school, Travis had impressed enough higher-ups with his work and charm to be awarded the post of Research Supervisor, a role he was still getting used to. It took him away from his own research, but the pay raise and function of the office more than made up for it, he thought with a smile. He had found that he liked walking the halls, learning about everybody’s projects and being in charge of things that could potentially benefit so many people. He walked on, past rooms containing experimental drugs to cure everything from the flu to cancer, testing stages on therapies for spinal injuries, brain damage and Parkinson’s. Millions of dollars’ worth of equipment, billions of dollars’ worth of drugs, and thousands of hours of work were all down here, contained within the pristine corridors. He walked with authority, something he had learned from the Supervisor before him, chin level, brown eyes steady. His close shaven brown hair seemed to reflect the light, giving him an angelic charm to complement his stern facial features. Large cheeks, a result of his stocky 210 pounds, stayed firm while he walked, mimicking his jaw. He was powerfully built, muscular and thick, but not fat.

Up ahead, the hall began to decline gradually and curve to the right. As he descended, the doors came less and less, the corridor was more dimly lit, and it seemed to get colder, despite the climate-controlled 76 degrees the hall was kept at. He walked seemingly forever, until the hall ended at a wall, one large door set in it. Underneath the nameplate, a red “LOCKED” sign glowed in grim finality. Clearing his throat at the audacity of being the only door in the building he couldn’t get through, he looked again at the plaque inscribed M. DAWSON, and pounded on the airtight door. Several seconds passed, then he heard a faint click and “UNLOCKED” glowed a bright, pleasant green. Travis pushed the door open and was confronted by his assistant, who was fixing her hair just inside the door.

“Katy? What are you doing here? I sent you to Stevenson’s office an hour ago.”

“Yes, well, while I was down here I ran into your brother and we started talking, and he brought me back here to show me his, ahem, research.”

“And it’s beautiful, isn’t it, amore? The grace, the power. The seeds of life sit nestled within its walls.” Michael Dawson chimed in from the other side of the laboratory. He strolled around the large machine taking up the middle of the room, holding his handheld computer and gazing at the screen lovingly.

“More beautiful than you know.” She replied, not taking her eyes off him. He glanced up at her, flashing her what he called his signature look, a small smile that seemed to come from the left side of his mouth more than the right, green eyes twinkling in the lighting. His brown hair was slightly longer than his brothers, giving it the look of being both softer and smoother. He was thinner than his brother, tall and lean rather than thick. He stood a tall 5 foot 11, shorter than Travis by an inch. Dashingly handsome, he had the classic good looks of a movie star, whereas Travis was more rugged. Michael had the look and demeanor of the smooth businessman, but not the passion. The brothers were near polar opposites of each other.

Michael let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t you have work to do? Go on, scoot.” He said to her. She walked out the door, throwing him one last admiring glance over her shoulder.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I just scanned her brain, that’s all.” Michael said, indicating the chair reclining under the massive machine.

“Oh, you scanned her, did you?”

“Yeah. A couple times. I wanted to see what she was like in different levels of excitement.”

“So how was she?”

“Oh she was great. Very creative, active mind. Got some good pictures.” He showed Travis the screen of his computer. On it was a top and right-side view of a brain, blue, green, red and yellow dancing across it in a beautiful cacophony of color. Michael walked back around the machine and out of sight. Two years his senior, Michael had graduated summa cumme laude from Stanford, and quickly had shot to the top of the neurological world. He was currently working on new ADD research for Apollo, two confidential projects for the military, and was scheduled to speak at Harvard and Yale in the coming months. Travis’ predecessor had hired Michael as soon as he had become available the previous year, and he had already befriended more than his share of their coworkers.

“You need to stop ‘scanning’ our interns, Michael.”

“You need to stop hiring female interns then, Travis.”

“You know company policy on employee relationships!”

“It’s not a relationship, Travis.” He said in his deliberately annoying sing-song voice.

“Fine. Employee relations. Better?”

“Perfect. I liked grad students better anyways.” Michael flashed him a smile from around the machine.

“Grad- Ugh. Whatever. I came down here because we need your report. It’s three weeks late and we haven’t heard any progress from you recently, despite being promised reports monthly.”

“What are you talking about? I turned that in before the deadline.”

“Turned what in? You mean this report over here, with your name on it and September 1 and that’s it?” Travis reached over and picked up the blue folder off the desk, leafing through the empty pages.

“Yeah, that. I swear I turned that in. Oh well.” Michael shrugged and turned back to his computer.

“Look, Mike, everybody here knows you’re untouchable. You’ve got this company by the balls and they know it. In fact, that’s probably the only reason I have this job. Out of everybody in an eleven story building, I’m the only person who’s allowed to annoy you because I’m your little brother. So don’t make me look bad. Please? It’s my first month on the job.”

With a sigh, Michael looked away from his computer to Travis. “Alright, I’ll get you my report by the end of the week.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. That reminds me, I’m not going to be here Monday or Tuesday.”

“Why not?”

“I have business to attend to.’

“What business?”

“Military business. Do you want your report or not?”

“Alright, fine. Monday and Tuesday off. Got it. I’d better get a damn nice Christmas present this year.” He walked out of Michael’s office and back to his own, stopping in the other labs on the way. He was curious what his brother was doing next week, but he had long since learned not to question the trips he went on. Soon enough, the thought was out of his mind as the other responsibilities of his post came into focus.

Several hours later, Travis stepped into his small, dimly lit three-room apartment. It was a holdover from before his promotion, and as soon as his lease was up he planned on moving somewhere he deemed more appropriate to his new economic status. Maybe a condo, he mused, someplace with a view. He threw his keys onto the table and surveyed his home. Just inside the door was a small living room, sparsely decorated, with an adjoining kitchen. The two were separated by a couple feet of countertop. Off the right side of the living room was a bedroom, also thinly furnished, with a small, pale bathroom. All in all, he thought, he wasn’t going to miss it. He flipped on the television and took a water from the fridge. Sitting down, he was about to change the channel from the news when the story caught his eye. A female reporter was standing in front of a very large crowd of people, talking over the commotion.

“For those of you just joining us, I’m standing in the middle of Central Park, where hundreds have flocked to see one man who has set up his home here. He has been called messiah, the new Edgar Cayce, and a charlatan, but one thing is for sure; he can certainly draw a crowd. You see, Jacques Andres here claims to be able to read minds, and even heal, all from a simple touch. He-“ Travis had seen enough. He changed the channel, fuming at the ignorance. “Where were these people during science class?” he asked himself. Every year, there were similar stories, and every year they turned out to be hoaxes. He was amazed the world hadn’t learned it’s lesson yet. He changed the channel and watched baseball highlights until he fell asleep.

September 30

As Travis walked out of the shower, he could hear the early morning news anchor talking from the other room.

“Breaking news. The body of Jacques Andres was found in the early hours of this morning on the East Side of Central Park. Jacques went missing from where he was residing in the park Sunday night, and he was found last night by a homeless man in a drainage ditch. Mr. Andres was surrounded by people from all over who had camped out around him for lack of vacancies in local hotels, yet no witnesses have come forth with information pertaining to the case. The police are withholding information, but our sources say that he has been dead at least 72 hours, and the top portion of his head has been removed. It is unclear what the motive for such an act was, but the police are confident they will resolve it soon.” He let the rest of the newscast fade into the background as he changed. Sometimes this city was more surprising than he liked it to be.

Outside of his office on the first subterranean floor of Apollo Pharmaceuticals he found a young woman waiting for him. He walked past her and sat down at his desk to review messages. The top one said she was just out of college and looking for a job. He laid that note aside and returned the few calls left to him during the night. When he finished talking, he hung up and buzzed her into his office. She walked in, black hair flowing behind her in graceful curls. She was very pretty and wore little makeup, emphasizing her natural beauty. Her heels clicked against the ground, a sound Travis had always found very annoying. She took the seat across from his desk and crossed her legs.

“Can I help you?” he asked her.

“I hope so. My name is Karen Eimes. I just got my Ph.D. in Neuroscience from Stanford, and we learned a lot about Dr. Dawson’s work. I was hoping that I could come here and work under him. He’s a brilliant man.”

“So I’ve been told. May I see your resume?” She handed a folder over to him bulging with papers. “Magna cumme laude at Stanford. Impressive. Internships at Zephyr and Johnson Pharmaceuticals.” He perused the rest of the papers. Her list of qualifications seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, when he was done reading, he looked up at her. “You have a very impressive resume Miss Eimes. I think we could find a spot for you here. Why don’t we go down to Michael’s office and meet him?” Travis stood up and walked out the door, not checking to see if she would follow. One step out of the door, he could already hear the click-clack of her footsteps. He led her to the elevators and down towards his brother’s office. Her heels struck the ground with each step, like tiny drumsticks beating tiny cymbals.The torture was finally ended when they reached the large door of Apollo’s most acclaimed scientist. The door was unlocked, so Travis pushed it open and strolled straight in. Michael was just inside to the left when they opened the door. Travis looked around just in time to see Michael slide something gray into a drawer, slam it shut, and whip a pistol out of the waistband of his pants.

“Oh my god,” He exclaimed in relief, “you scared the shit out of me. Jeez.” He put the gun back in the small of his back and locked the drawer he had just haphazardly slammed. “Didn’t I lock that door?”

“No, it was unlocked. What the hell do you have a gun for?!”

“Oh, that. Just paranoia, you know. No big deal. And who is this?” Michael ignored his brother’s questioning look, stepping around him to take the hand of Miss Eimes, who had just stepped into the room.

“Karen Eimes, Dr. Dawson. It’s an honor to meet you.” She blushed as he raised her hand to his lips.

“The pleasure is all mine. What brings a beautiful woman like you so far underground?”

“Miss Eimes is looking for a job here. She wants to work under you.”

“Does she now? Well I’m sure that can be arranged, but does she also want to be my assistant?” He laughed at himself, and said “I’m just kidding. Did you bring your resume?”

“Yes sir. Mr. Dawson already went over it in his office.”

“I’m sure he did, but my brother can be swayed by a pretty woman from time to time. It’s Doctor, by the way. He’s also Dr. Dawson. He gets jealous when people call me that but not him.” The last part he leaned over to whisper to her. He straightened up, both of them giggling.

“I’m standing right next to you.” Travis glared at her and she stopped giggling. The effect was not the same on his brother.

“Calm down. I’m justteasing. Everything seems to be in order here.” Michael said, barely looking at the folder. He had caught her gaze long enough that she couldn’t turn away, a trick he perfected through years of boredom in public school. “Why don’t you go Travis? I’m sure you have plenty of work to do. Miss Eimes and I can get better acquainted.” Michael said, once again raising her hand. Travis took her hand from him, snapping the pseudo-hypnotic hold he had on her.

“She has paperwork she needs to fill out if she’s working here. You know that as well as I do.”

Michael sighed. “As you wish. Until we meet again.” He took her other hand and kissed it. Travis pulled her towards the door and away from his brother. Once in the hall, he shut the door and turned to her. “I realize you’re young, but if you want to work with him, keep it professional, or less obvious, or you won’t be here long.” He turned away from her and they walked down the hall.

“I’m sorry sir. It’s just that, he’s a very charming man, and I’ve studied him for two years. It was a little overwhelming. I promise I’ll do better.”

“That’s quite alright. Just keep a clear head and you’ll do fine. He is a very smart and charming man, but he gets bored easily and he doesn’t hold grudges, so if you don’t want to be romantic with him, resist for a while and he’ll stop pursuing you. Just don’t tell him I said so.” He said as he smiled at her. She giggled at him too, and it gave him butterflies oddly enough, deep in the pit of his stomach. The rest of the walk back was spent introducing her to other scientists and researchers, every male of whom gawked at her like she was a carnival sideshow. Despite himself, he started getting annoyed at their looks. When she noticed, he smiled sheepishly and tried to hide it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, “I get it all the time. You get used to it.” She smiled back at him.

October 24

Travis woke up and trundled out of bed, turning on the newscast and the coffeepot simultaneously. The news anchor, a blonde woman with shining hair, was just pulling up a story, “Breaking News” flashing around her.

“Good Morning New York. Tragic news just in from 1 Police Plaza. Events last night came to a head in the investigation of a serial killer who has been terrorizing our streets for nearly a year now.” She paused to plaster a concerned expression on her face. “Dubbed ‘The Zombie’ on social media websites for his tendency to abscond with the brains of his victims, the police have informed us they were less than an hour behind him last night, after receiving calls of a commotion from a Fifth Street highrise. Police arrived close enough to record the time of death, but it would seem the Zombie sent a message in return, taking two victims in one night, a far-cry from his previous M.O. of waiting weeks, and even months, between victims. The police have asked the families of the victims, Dr. Vasiliy Prokov and Miss Karen…”

More drivel, Travis mumbled to himself. Lives are burned out and new fires kindled daily. He continued to dress for work, turning the television to sports instead.

Travis left his office and descended the sloping ramps to the lower level, headed to his brother’s laboratory. He approached the door and knocked, waiting for the click of the locking mechanism. It came a moment later, and Michael opened the door, disheveled and frowning.

“Oh. Travis. Well hello there.” Michael didn’t move from in front of the door.

“May I come in?”

“Of course. Where are my manners.” Michael pulled the door open wide, letting Travis pass him before closing and locking it again.

“Why so obsessed with that lock?” Travis asked, plainly curious.

“Oh, you know, privacy and whatnot.” Michael waved his arm vaguely at the door as he picked his handheld computer off the desk. Travis surveyed the room, stopping when his gaze met the machine at the center. The chair was reclined under the scanner, a naked human brain sitting on the headrest. Wires, tubes, and sensors were strapped to it, and the machine whirred as it went through its work. The brain seemed to pulse every few seconds.

“Um, Michael…”

“Yes, brother?” Michael didn’t look up from his computer.

“Where exactly did that come from?”

Michael turned to glance at the brain. “Oh, that? You know, cadaver or whatever.” Michael flashed Travis his smile, rather half-heartedly it seemed.

Travis gave a low hmph and gathered in the rest of the room. Michael’s pistol was sitting out on the table to his right. He sidled over and grabbed it while Michael was absorbed in his work, tucking it into his coat pocket.

Michael looked up, finally, and asked why he was there.

“Just doing my rounds. It gets a little stuffy in that office. Where is Miss Eimes?”

“Very true. Never could stand those things myself. As for Miss Eimes, I’m sure I have no idea. Honestly, I forgot she even lived.” Michael smiled at his brother until Travis gave a goodbye and left the room.

October 27

Travis sat at his desk, looking over the stacks of papers in front of him. Katy came in and asked what was wrong, but Travis ignored her. She left, and he rifled through the papers in his hand yet again. Cadaver requests. Every one in the building went through him, to be approved and submitted to the morgues and mortuaries throughout the city. And not one was from Michael.

Miss Eimes had not shown up for work in nearly a week. Another problem he would have to take care of. The list of missing and incomplete is too extensive, Travis thought to himself, as he rose, grabbed his lab coat, and headed downstairs. Questions needed answering.

Travis walked through the door Michael held wide open for him, scanning the room as he entered. There was a brain still on the chair, in the same position as the last time he had come in several days ago, but looking at it gave Travis a queer feeling. Like something was off.

He turned to Michael, raising his arm. As he did so, he felt the weight of something in his pocket. It registered briefly, but he ignored it. He held the sheaf of papers out in his hand.

“Michael, we need to talk.”

“About?”

“About your ‘cadaver’, Michael. There’s no request for it.”

“Ah. Surely I didn’t forget to turn that in as well?” Michael began rifling through the papers and drawers of his desk, looking for something.

“No, I don’t believe that you did. Michael. Michael.” Travis became insistent, and Michael stopped his rummaging to look up at him.

“Michael, where did the brain come from?” Travis looked at the chair, and the greyish mass sitting on the headrest, metal and rubber sticking out from all angles. It struck him then.

This brain was smaller than the last.

He couldn’t prove it, he was sure, but he was just as certain that the last had taken up more space on the headrest where it sat.

Michael looked up and smiled at him. “I told you, a cadaver. Katy must have misplaced the request.”

“I already talked to Katy, Michael. She says you never handed her one. I even made her search all the papers on her desk. Nothing. You never filed a request Michael. I’ll ask you again,” Travis took a breath, “where did the brain come from?”

“You don’t watch the news, do you Travis?”

The question confused him. “Every morning. Never much useful, but…” Travis trailed off. He felt cold. Sick.

“Ah-ha. That is… most unfortunate.” Michael began rummaging through his desk again, opening and closing different drawers this time.

“Looking for something?”

“Just a bit of paranoia, that’s all.”

“Paranoia.” Travis pulled the gun out of his coat pocket, heavy in his hand.

“Ha!” Michael’s laugh sounded forced, panicked. “Now who’s the paranoid one?” He reached out for the gun, but Travis did not offer it, leaving it hanging at his side.

“Michael, I have another question for you.”

“Shoot, brother.”

Please, don’t let it be true Michael. “What have you been working on? And Michael,” Travis steeled himself before voicing the words, “where is Miss Eimes?”

“That’s two questions brother. You only said one. Which would you like me to answer?”

“I would like you to answer both, please.” Travis’ voice was gravel, iron, sliding from his throat.

“Ah. Well, luckily for you, I can answer both at once.” Michael turned from his desk, still looking at Travis, and threw his arms wide, encompassing the large machine, and the brain laying underneath it. “I have been working on that.”

Travis moved closer to the machine, still keeping Michael in view. As he got nearer, he noticed something he hadn’t before. The brain pulsed, almost alive, but a thin blue beam shot out from a point in the bottom of the apparatus, making neat incisions into the brain, yet leaving no mark.

“Michael. Where is Miss Eimes?” Travis had a feeling he would regret the answer as soon as he asked.

“Travis, dear brother. You really must listen better. Miss Eimes is right next to you. She is being scanned as we speak.” Michael kept smiling, but it was no longer a happy smile. Triumphant, perhaps, but sad. “She really was brilliant. Quite useful.”

Travis had the gun raised on him as soon as the words left Michael’s mouth.

“Just what the hell have you been working on Michael?!”

“It’s this military contract, brother. It has been so enlightening. Maybe somewhat outside of my comfort zone at times, but one adapts as one is needed. The government requested that I find two things for them. First, a way to make their soldiers more intelligent, better able to respond and adapt in the field. Second, they wished me to investigate the possible neurological origin of ‘psychic powers’. Telepathy, telekinesis, things of that nature. They furnished me with test subjects as needed, but I don’t think they ever expected me to succeed.”.” The joy had returned to his smile. He was proud. Exultant, even. “At least, not to the extent I did”

The gun rose out of Travis’ hand and slowly, gently, floated across the room to lie on Michael’s desk.

“They certainly never expected me to use my findings on myself.” Michael smiled at his brother, one last time, and vanished.

Later that day, before the police could arrive,the bottom level of the Apollo Pharmaceuticals building caught fire. Suppressant systems went to work immediately, saving all of the assets the company had spent so much capital to invest in.

Except one room at the end of the hall, where the systems seemed to malfunction, destroying machinery and records as thoroughly as if they had never been there.