Carola Dibbell - The Only Ones

Ok.

The phone rang.

He pushed a button under his desk and it stopped. “How old are you, by the way?”

I said I didn’t know.

“You don’t know how old you are?”

I shook my head.

He leaned back in the chair again and rubs his forehead, like I already wore him out. Well, that’s his problem. He’s the one who wanted to do intake in the first place. If it was up to me, I just as soon go straight to the so-called tests. Whatever they are, I’m pretty sure I will rather do it than intake. Let alone, sex.

He starts tapping his nails on the desk.

That is what they generally want where I work. A lot of people got the stupid idea if they have sex with a Powell’s Cove hardy, they won’t die — well, it is a pretty ignor looks me up and down">ri. They never say it’s interesting.ant clientele. But that’s not my problem. I did not like sex and tried to pitch other things, like blood or urine. I got no idea what they did with it. They even bought teeth sometimes. I think they wore them on a string, for luck. They even bought fingernails.

I’m pretty sure no one will ever spring for this guy’s fingernails. They are cracked and funny. Tap, tap, tap.

“Thing is,” he goes. “Typically, a simple ID will access some databases that I would very much like to explore and might be some Compensation for the fact the product in the Pak turned out to be,” tap, tap, “completely useless — not what I’d thought I was getting, and quite a bit of what I did get was compromised, in fact,” now he smacks the desk, “dead! Not your fault, but I’d like to see if I can get some return for my expenses — access to interesting files, possibly by running a few tests, but I need to know what I’m testing for. Some very basic history might help — labwork, illness — nothing is coming up from your ID or Pass. Can you tell me something about your vaccine history?”

I shook my head.

He put his head in his hands a minute and said, “This isn’t going to work.”

Right then, Janet Delize came in with coffee and the donuts on a tray. “Delmore called,” she said, then leaned and whispered something, and he said back to her, “Can you just deal with it?” and she went off.

He did too. He went down the hall. I heard water running.

I had a donut.

It is pretty dark in here. No windows. Three doors though. One to the orange sofa room, one door shut, and one opens to the back where he had went.

He came back with his beard and hair dripping like he put them under a faucet, and is very bright and cheerful like, put your head in water, that really does the trick. “Yes! Let’s give it another shot. I might be able to get at your files through some local grid.” He’s back at the screen. “Did you reside in any other areas than Corona?”

East Elmhurst.

He looked it up and thought a little. “How did you end up there?”

“The Vargas brothers took me when they bought me from foster care.”

We could hear the phone ringing again.

“Bought you from?” he said. He sat still, like he had some trouble following.

See, this is what comes from running intake. They like to ask the questions. Then they cannot take the answer.

The phone stopped.

He said, “And,” he still seems to be having trouble, “and after that?”

“They die when we move to Powell’s Cove. Edgar Vargas have the TB. Well, they said it is the TB. It could of been that thing with fleas. Manny Vargas, they said they didn’t know.”

“Who said?”

“The Vertov brothers.”

“Junior!” That’s Janet Delize calling. “Junior!”

“Janet!” he yells. “Will you please fucking deal with it?”

She yelled back, “Delmore says now he heard horses.”

Rauden punched his phone on so hard if I am that phone, I will punch him back. So this guy got a temper. I seen worse. Edgar Vargas was worse.

Rauden went into the other room to take the call, which I don’t know why he bothered, because I can hear everything he says. “Calm down, Del. Just take a few deep breaths. You know they don’t come out till dark.” When he came back in he just sat in his chair and thought. Or I think he thought. When he finished thinking, he goes, “Yes! We’re getting nowhere. There could be a jam on your regular ID. I’m going to run some pure code if you don’t mind.”

So I’m like, why would I mind? A Subject like myself? I run pure code all the time.

Like I got any idea what it is.

He wipes a stick in my mouth, smears that on a plate. Ok, I had done this before but we call it something else in Queens. You do it to get a Pass, so they are sure you’re who you say you are and not someone else, who should be in jail. If they had a jail. He is sticking the plate in a slot in his gizmo when Janet Delize came through in a coat, and Rauden threw up his hands. “Janet, Janet, what is this? I need you here. I’m sorry if I was rude. But I do fucking need someone to take fucking Del’s fucking calls.”

She said she thinks Delmore’s right. She was going home right now to check her home alarms, in case there really is a raid. “And you should check yours too,” she said. “And watch your language.” She went off. The front door slammed.

Rauden put his head in his hands.

We could hear a motor starting up outside. Also a noise I didn’t hear before, like wind, but different than the wind I heard when we got here.

“Henry!” He’s on the phone again. “Delmore thinks there’s going to be a raid. Yeah, he’s going ballistic. Janet thinks I should rig up some alarms. That green light hoo-ha in back? I thought it just ran the generator. Oh, right, that kicks off the old system. And I hook it up to the main system in front? Yup, I’m working with the Powell’s Cove hardy. Like pulling teeth. I think she is a little challenged. Gotta go.”

He looked through boxes in the Box Room until he found a long cable, plugged one end under his desk and took the rest down the hall. I eat another donut. When he came back, he said to his screen, “Oh, what’s this now?”

I already saw it went black. That is how challenged I am.

He got under his desk, did something, sat up, and stared at the screen. “Subject: I. Kissena Fardo. Location: Zone North. So this is new. Origins: unknown.”

It is not new to me.

Outside, the motor sound got louder.

He just sat there tapping his nails. “Kissena.” Tap, tap, tap. “What sort of name is that?”

The motor got softer, outside.

I told him it is where the bus stopped.

“So.” Tap, tap, tap. “You were named for a bus Stop.”

Oh, what is it with this guy? He got a problem with everything I say, like, who is even named for a bus Stop? Who do they even call I?

Well, tap this, fat guy. I’m not going to tell you why the bus stopped there or who was on it or why it’s in my name. It is not your business. I just told the guy I didn’t know.

He pulled a metal bottle from a drawer and unscrewed the top.

The motor sound outside got softer, then softer. Then it’s gone. So I’m alone in this place I%io aid="5N3on never been with some guy with a temper who got a bottle. It’s not like I never did this before. It’s how it works. It’s not like I am scared.

He had a long drink. “Let’s try something else. Have you been in close contact with, let’s see, someone infected by, hmm, one of the Luzon viruses, say — even a lesser one like, well, Avian — I think I could test for that. TB is not relevant, hmm, and you don’t know your vaccine history, or so you fucking say.” He had another drink. “Help me out here.”

Well, he looked so sad, I began to think, watch out. He could give up and send me home. Better think of something to tell the guy. “I could of had one vaccine,” I said.