Chapter 1:
1979
The gavel came down. Her blood ran cold. She was only following orders! Her country’s orders! How could her own government do this to her? After all the years of loyal service! Dishonorably discharged? The shock was quickly being replaced by anger. All her medals, accommodations, even her fucking pension! Gone in the blink of an eye. Why?
She felt a gentle hand on her back. She shook it off.
“I’m sorry,” The man said. He collected the papers strewn across the desk, and placed them in his briefcase. “The wars over now. The governments trying to sweep their dirty secrets under the rug and save face.”
“Why was I the scapegoat? I wasn’t even the head of Midnight Climax! That was Gottlieb, the bastard!” The woman hissed.
Her lawyer raised his head, his eyes full of sympathy. Another wave of rage. She didn’t want his good for nothing sympathy!
“You know why.” He said. She gritted her teeth. “The bodies were starting to pile up, and you were an easy target to pin it on. You’re lucky you weren’t given serious jail time! Take the slap on the wrist I got for you and start the next chapter of your life.”
40 years later
The sun was beginning to rise over Sunny Acres Retirement Village located near Berkley University. Beatrice was already up and shuffling around in her blue striped pajamas and pink bunny eared slippers. She had just started a pot of coffee in Ol’ Reliable, an old Mr. Coffee she had picked up in a yard sale. Forget that fancy Keurig thing Darlene, her old washed up Southern Debutant roommate, kept trying to push on her.
Beatrice took a long sip and smacked her lips. Ahh, today was the day. She could feel it. She patted her stomach. Nothing like a hot cup of coffee to wake up the bowels. This is your final eviction notice. She was about to grab for the newspapers’ crossword puzzle but froze. There was a sound outside her front door. Something that sounded like jangling keys.
She hoped Darlene hadn’t been sleepwalking again. Last time they had found her out by the guard house in nothing but her Depends, sashaying back and forth as if she was on a runway, in front of a very traumatized security guard. Gracie and Beatrice had had to come and collect her, wake her up, and not so gently remind her, “No one wants to see you in your skivvies when your tata’s swing down past your belly button.”
Gracie, or Dr. Ambrose as she liked to be called, had slipped the poor security boy her business card.
“If you need help forgetting.” Gracie had said with a wink. The only way that poor lad’s mind would ever be purged of Darlene’s, wrinkly old pendulums of Disease and Despair would be the sweet relief of death.
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Dr. Ambrose” the retired hypnotist/ tarot card reader/ resident nut job. Their housing unit was full of her, “healing crystals” and, essential oils for every ailment. The only thing they had ever done for Beatrice was make her smell like peppermint, and she hated peppermint.
There it was again! The sound of keys rattling in the lock, followed by the sound of, Beatrice frowned, splashing water? She crept to the peephole and peered into it. Her eyes widened. Instead of a half-naked Darlene, there was a young black haired woman teetering and swaying on the walkway.
“Kaaattieeee,” the young woman moaned. She appeared to be on a cellphone, but she was holding it backwards to her ear, case first. “Let me innn, Kathie, I have to pee! Pleeeassseeee.” She wailed. This woman was drunk off her rocker! “If you don’t let me in I’m peeing on the lawn!” Ohh, don’t you dare! George worked so hard on that lawn! “That’s it!” The woman said. “I’m-aww shit!” Beatrice could make out a dark circle forming underneath her on the concrete. Beatrice pinched her nose. Maybe if she called George, he could turn on the sprinklers and maybe that would chase her away.
“What are you doing, Bea?” a voice said behind her. She spun around to find Darlene in her bathrobe, and about 20 pink curlers in her hair, making her appear like an eldritch monster out of Greek mythology. She was almost sure if she cut off one curler, two more would grow in its place.
“There’s a crazy person on our front lawn.” Beatrice said.
“Let me see,” Darlene scooted over and peeped through the hole. “I don’t see anyone.”
She nudged Darlene out of the way, and looked through the hole. She was right. The mystery woman was gone. Nothing but the wet circle on the pavement.
“She peed on our walkway.” Beatrice said.
“Seriously? Is she okay? Shouldn’t we check on her?” Darlene ripped the door open before Beatrice could protest and stepped outside. “Eww, what did I just step in?” Urine wasn’t the only gift the woman had left it seemed, and Darlene had just stepped in it. Barefoot. Darlene let out a horrified screech confirming Beatrice’s suspicions of an Eldritch bloodline. Vomit coated the welcome mat and front door, and a pair of keys that didn’t even come close to fitting in the lock had been forced in and were dangling. Beatrice watched in amusement as Darlene hurried over to the grass and began dragging her feet while muttering under her breath words that were unbecoming of a southern bell.
“Eww eww eww ew-” Darlene froze mid chant. “Bea, I think I found the culprit, come here.” Beatrice scowled, before taking a large step over the pile of sick and stood beside Darlene. She looked where she was pointing. There, by the guest window, was an unconscious woman, face first, and ass up in the flower bed, mooning the neighborhood. “Where’s her panties?” Darlene asked.
Beatrice shrugged. “She might have taken them off after getting them wet.” They stood beside her, trying to decide what to do.
“Well we can’t leave her like this exposed!” Darlene said. “The poor thing, let’s bring her inside.”
“Are you crazy? We can’t just bring a stranger into our home.”
“Where’s your sense of hospitality?”
“You’re not in Georgia anymore, Darlene. We don’t show southern hospitality, we show Californian hospitality. If anyone shows up unannounced on our doorstep, we don’t invite them in, or in your case, invite them in and sleep with them. We blast them with the garden hose until they leave.”
“I do not sleep with random strangers that show up on my doorstep!” Darlene insisted, but in a much lower voice added, “anymore.”
“Wasn’t that how you met husband number, hmm what was it, number three or number four?”
“He was a door-to-door salesman.” Darlene said. “My second husband, Richard, may he rest in peace.” Beatrice watched as Darlene kneeled down in the grass and rested her hand on the woman’s back. “Sweet Pea, are you okay?” The woman let out a muffled groan into the dirt. “Bea, help me get her sitting up.” Between the two of them, they managed to get her into a sitting position, with her back against the house. Beatrice was surprised to discover this wasn’t some woman, it was a girl! She doubted she was even old enough to drink. She couldn’t be positively sure with a face full of dirt, but she was almost sure she was a university student.
“Maybe we should bring her in.” Beatrice admitted. “Someone might have spiked her drink. We shouldn’t leave her alone.”
It was difficult, but between the two of them, they managed to hoist her up by the armpits, and drag her inside. By then, Gracie was in the kitchen and nearly dropped her spatula when they dragged the girl inside past her.
“What on earth!” Gracie said.
“Help us get her into the spare room!” Beatrice said. Gracie rushed ahead and opened the bedroom door, and the three of them managed to get her into bed with great difficulty, almost dropping her in the process.
“My back.” Gracie groaned.
“My knees!” Beatrice said.
“My hair!”
The other two glared at Darlene for a moment before turning their attention back to the girl.
“We should get her undressed.” Darlene said.
“You’ve already had six husbands, are you trying for a wife now?” Beatrice asked. She left the room for a moment and came back out with a damp wash cloth.
“Let me put her under, I can find out what happened to her.” Gracie volunteered. Both Beatrice and Darlene rolled their eyes.
“Put her under? She’s out cold!” Beatrice said. She gently wiped the dirt off the girl’s face, revealing a gash by her left eyebrow. Next she unbuttoned the girl’s white top. “What in the world?” The three of them bent over and stared, each with a puzzled expression. There were wires running throughout her bra. Darlene picked up a small white remote and turned a knob.
“Oooh.” The three of them chanted, now transfixed. LED lights began to flash in different colored patterns on her skin.
“Oh my God!” Gracie said. “She’s loaded!” She held up a massive wad of cash she had fished out of a black purse.
“Where did you get that?” Beatrice asked, looking at the bag.
“The front yard, I figured it was hers.”
“Hello, wife number one. Oww! I was kidding!” Darlene said, rubbing the back of her head.
Gracie dug through the bag some more before pulling out a wallet. She opened it to reveal a University I.D. as well as a Driver’s license for a Courtney Flower’s, age nineteen. “Huh, a goat.”
“A goat?” Darlene asked.
“Chinese Zodiac sign based on the year you were born. It’s supposed to say a lot about your personality. Goats tend to be more reserved and shy, not the type to light up their titties at a party.”
“Ohh, what’s mine?” Darlene asked.
“Sorry, raging whore isn’t one of the listed symbols.” Beatrice answered.
“Neither is an alcoholic!” Darlene said.
“I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a drunk, there’s a difference.” Beatrice said, sliding off Courtney’s skirt in order to clean the urine off her legs. “Alcoholics go to meetings.” She gently wiped down her thighs, but when she got to her more intimate area she stopped. “There’s something inside her.”
“What do you mean?” Gracie asked. “Like a tampon?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She pressed down lightly on her pelvis. She could feel a bulge. She put a finger down and traced the opening. Beatrice could feel plastic sticking out. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one. “ She pulled on it and out came a cord of individually wrapped powders and pills, resembling a small version of a Leigh people wore to graduations with candy and money inside. “Oh boy.”
“That would explain the money.” Gracie said, a disgusted look on her face. “And to think I was worried about a drug dealer!”
“Ohh, is that Oxycodone? My prescriptions almost out and I-” Beatrice held it away from Darlene.
“She’s not out of the clear yet.” Beatrice said, examining one of the bags. “Looks like one of them broke open. That’s why she’s out cold. It doesn’t look like much though. I think she’s just high right now. These look like individual doses.”
“So if she’s a drug dealer, should we call the police?” Darlene asked.
“I’m sorry, I was wrong about you.” Beatrice said. “There is a Zodiac symbol for you after all.”
“Oh yeah?” Darlene asked, intrigued. “What’s that?”
“A rat.”
……….
Beatrice looked up from her chair as Courtney began to groan.
“How are you feeling?” Beatrice asked, her voice gentle and soft.
“My head.” The girl groaned, putting a hand up on her forehead. Beatrice couldn’t blame her. Between whatever had been in her system, and “Dr. Ambrose” burning incense, sage, and lighting aromatherapy candles, even Beatrice had a headache. She couldn’t sympathize much though. She held up the link of drugs.
“Why don’t you start by explaining these?” Beatrice watched Courtney’s face go white, followed by red. She wondered if she’d try denying they were hers, kind of hard to do considering where she had found them.
“Did you pull those out of me?! What the hell? What gave you the right to inva-” Beatrice held up a hand. “This one broke inside you.” She pointed to a half empty link with a hole in it. “What was it?”
“L.S.D.” Courtney admitted after a moment. “Where are my clothes? What am I wearing?”
“You soiled yourself.” Beatrice watched with some amusement as Courtney’s face turned a shade of red. “So you were dressed appropriately.”
“Is this a diaper?” She asked.
“Yes. Now stay here while I speak to the others.” Beatrice got up and left the room. Now that she knew Courtney was fine, physically anyway, she didn’t care anymore. They had looked at her, what’s-it-called page to learn more than enough about her. She wasn’t a victim of a trafficking crime, she was a troubled young lady.
She met with the other two in the living room and explained the situation.
“Can I? Please? We can reform her!” Gracie said. Doctor Placebo was begging to get to work. “She’s just a baby!”
“Do what you want.” Beatrice shrugged, before stopping in her tracks.
“How do I look?” Darlene asked, a large grin on her face. Underneath her tank top was glowing and flashing string of lights.
“You’re not fooling anyone. We all know your nipples are about 3 feet lower than that.”
When Beatrice went back into the room, she was greeted by a very disoriented looking Courtney, who kept staring at her hands.
“You ever notice how strange fingers look?” She said wiggling them around in front of her face. Beatrice would have been more concerned about being naked in a stranger’s house while caught with drugs on her person, but sure, let’s go with fingers. Clearly she wasn’t quite sober yet. It would sure make getting consent a hell of a lot easier, and it’s not like anything would happen. It was just a formality for Dr. Placebo, so she could feel more official in her old age.
Beatrice cleared her throat. “Umm, Courtney,”
“Is that me?” the girl asked. Beatrice sighed and nodded her head as the young woman began to chant her name in different ways, putting more emphasis on different syllables each time.
Beatrice opened the old video camera, set it on the tripod and began to record. “Courtney, do we have your consent to place you under hypnosis?”
Courtney looked up, a blank expression on her face. “Can I eat it?”
It was then that Gracie entered, followed by Darlene. Yes, let her explain her crackhead idea. All Beatrice could chalk it up to was Gracie having lost a few too many brain cells during Woodstock. She still couldn’t believe people actually used to pay her for this. Enough people in fact, that she had made an entire career out of it. Beatrice had her doubts about Gracie having a doctorate, she honestly thought it was all just a stage name.
“We’re just going to give your subconsciousness a few suggestions, that’s all. Just to help you relax and ride out the high in a safe place. Is that okay?” Gracie asked, after she had gone on a long-winded version of what she did and the “benefits” of sleeping next to a chunk of amethyst while Mercury was in retrograde this week. Beatrice had a habit of spacing out during her ramblings, only coming to when Courtney had given her consent.
How Gracie had gotten the young lady to look into the camera, state her name, age, and have her give her consent, when Courtney a minute ago looked like she believed the creases in her fingers held tomorrow night’s winning power ball numbers was beyond Beatrice’s understanding. That woman was on all a whole other wave length. Maybe if she herself was on drugs, Gracie would also make sense to her too. The Bailey’s she had added to her coffee clearly wasn’t enough.
Tick tick tick went the metronome. The room had gone silent. The curtains had been drawn to give the room a more serious yet relaxing ambiance. Gracie’s voice had gotten much softer. No longer shrill and keyed up, it dropped to a steady and monotonous tone. Beatrice wished she’d always talk like that. It was kind of nice.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The steady rhythm was making Beatrice herself feel drowsy just from watching. A tingling was beginning to run from her head to her hands and down her torso, and she found it rather pleasant. She shook her head to stay alert.
“Courtney,” Gracie said. “Relax and listen to the steady rhythm. That’s it. Good girl. Keep relaxing.” Beatrice watched as she sat down on the bed next to the young woman. “Now I’m going to count from five down to zero, and when I reach zero I want you to consciously relax every muscle in your shoulders and neck.” Beatrice listened as Gracie began. Once she hit zero she went on. “Feel the tension drain. The muscles are loosening. All the stress you’ve been carrying around is ebbing away, leaving you feeling light and relaxed.” Beatrice rolled her own shoulders around as Gracie instructed Courtney to do the same. She watched her give similar instructions and talk downs to her face, stomach, back and legs. Even Darlene was beginning to wobble on her feet.
“Your head wants to fall forward. Let it.” Beatrice was surprised to see Courtney’s head fall forward as if it was dead weight. “Now, I am no longer speaking to the Courtney of the present sitting here in this bed. I am speaking to the Courtney of the past, the purest form of Courtney full of innocence and light. The Courtney deep inside. I would like for that Courtney to come forward now.”
Beatrice watched shell shocked as a high-pitched giggle escaped the girls lips.
“Yes, that’s it. I want to spend time with that Courtney, at the age before the corruption, when you still held hope for your life and future. You’re so tired of the life you’ve been living. It’s so hard and stressful. You feel your desire to lead that life slip away just like the tension in your body.”
The room was quiet. They all held their breaths as the metronome kept on ticking.
“Once I count down from five, this other Courtney, this innocent Courtney full of light and love will be in control and no one else. Keep her in the forefront of your mind. Here we go…five…four…” Beatrice wasn’t expecting much. Maybe she’d have a little less attitude for a few days. “Three…two…” Placebo was a powerful thing after all, but it only worked if you believed it would. “One.” She wondered what age Courtney was when she had all her innocence, before she knew about drugs, alcohol, and sex. 14? 15? “Zero.” Gracie snapped her fingers.
The girl looked up. Beatrice, Darlene, and even Gracie were left speechless. A wide, dopey grin was on Courtney’s face and…not much else. Her green eyes were wide with wonder as she took them all in. A trail of drool made its way out of the corner of her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and blew a very wet raspberry before giggling and clapping her hands and sticking a few of her fingers into her mouth. The women stared in shock.
“I think you may have gone back a little too far.” Beatrice said, barely above a whisper.
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