With the Mainframe down, Ned and Bolton go after the AWOL Michael, lost somewhere within the lower levels of IO and Ames finds out that he's about to be had ...
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FOR YOU OWN GOOD 9
Michael found nothing in the file cabinet of interest.
Financial records concerning office supplies were boring reading,
so he squeezed back through the door and headed back up the
stairs. He decided against going further down, since he assumed
that up might lead him to at least a window and looking down over
the guard rail gave him a feeling of vertigo; he was thankful that
the lights were dim. It was getting a bit chilly for him, however,
and he decided that a bit of moving around might warm him up a
bit. When he came back up to the large landing, he remembered the
feel of it from the time the lights had been out and determined
that he was right back where he started. He climbed up another
flight of stairs, not the least bit winded when he arrived at the
next landing. The stairs seemed to go on and on both up and down,
and he had no idea where he really was. He didn’t even know for
certain how long he had been confined in IO, with no clocks or
windows and no one to even tell him what day of the week it was.
He sighed and forced the first door that he came to.
As he slid the door open, a sense of deja vu passed over him,
and he seemed to remember doing this at some other time. He
couldn’t place it, however, and with a shrug he entered the room.
It was another office, but it was bigger. The computer was
dead, as was the last one, but this office was warmer, was
carpeted, and had a couch and a refrigerator. The refrigerator
wasn’t running, but then again Michael realized that the power
hadn’t been out for too long. His stomach was speaking to him in
loud tones when opened the door. “Jackpot!” he exclaimed aloud,
staring longingly into the depths of what looked like a banquet
compared to what he had become used to in IO. There was a 12 pack
of Coke, a box of chocolate covered Hostess Donettes, along with
several Tupperware containers. He inspected each one of these as
he downed a Coke, belched thunderously, and decided that the stuff
that looked like spaghetti of some kind still smelled good. There
was even a tray with some plastic flatware in it, so he didn’t have
to eat with his hands.
After he had downed another two Cokes, and eaten more of the
Donuts than was probably good for him, he remembered the couch on
the far side of the desk. “This is too good to be true,” he said
to himself, and with his stomach full, his tastebuds reawakened,
and even an afghan to cover up with, Michael stretched out and fell
asleep.
“Where do you think he went?” Ned asked Bolton as they
returned to the desk that served as the office of sorts for
Michael’s ward. Ned knew he was speaking volumes with just the
tone of his voice, but something told him that Bolton could be
trusted. There was something sincere about this very large and
burly black fellow that Ned liked, although he couldn’t say for
certain what it was.
Bolton shrugged. He could hear the desperation in Ned’s
voice, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why one of
the house med staff would be so concerned over one missing boy.
Things were under control, however, even if the Mainframe was
totally down. “Dunno,” he replied, “But where could he go? He
can’t get out.”
Ned didn’t look convinced. “Bolton, all of the doors and
security systems are down. Any door in here will open if you push
hard enough. If you were him, in here, and suddenly got this dose
of temporary freedom, what would you do?”
“I’d go exploring.”
“So where do we start looking?” Ned asked, picking up his
medical bag.
Ames walked slowly back to the cafeteria. He had to have
time. There might still be a way to salvage some of this mess, and
his mind was racing. Right now, his main concern was the shift
change and what to do with the inmates. He certainly didn’t want
to put them to bed and have to depend on guards alone all night
long, or however long it would take to fix the system. There would
be no sleep therapy, and no way to punish any offenders who stepped
out of line. In short, there would be no control if anything went
wrong. Then it came to him as he himself yawned. Wear them out!
Tired boys, eunuchs or not, slept like logs. He quickened his
pace, and upon arriving in each unit where the armed guards stood
watch over their charges, he made an announcement.
“I would like, in light of what has happened, for everyone,
inmates and guards, to proceed to your respective gymnasiums,” he
said in his rough and loud voice. “Feel free to play games you
like, basketball, or whatever. We’ll set up some more emergency
lights so you can see. We’re having problems, and I’d hate to see
anyone get hurt in the confusion, so just go to the gym and have a
good time until you receive further instructions.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then much applause
and comments.
Ames smiled as the guards escorted their charges to the half-
open door. Many of the boys who wouldn’t have otherwise looked him
in the face openly smiled at him, and a few even thanked him.
“That was TOO easy,” he muttered to himself.
On the couch in someone’s office with a raided refrigerator,
Michael moaned in his sleep. Parts of his brain that had been
kept ‘shut off’ by the sleep therapy and the ULF treatments were
reawakening, and for the first time since his incarceration, the
young eunuch was dreaming. From his battered mind came the image
of Cheng, and the Asian eunuch was smiling at him. He stretched
out his small hand, and Michael took it. He wanted to pull his
friend close and hold him, but suddenly the hand in his wasn’t
Cheng’s. The grip tightened, hurting his hand, and the guard who
had escorted him off of the bus that first day was pushing him
along and tussling his thick blonde hair. “Whew, ain’t you a
scrawny little cute thing?” the man was saying, and his gaze was
leering. The man shoved him, and someone else caught him. “Take
off your clothes,” he demanded. He was grabbed, his clothes torn
off, and he was thrown down on a padded chair; restraints sprang
forth to seize him. Someone was running bare bladed hair clippers
over his head, cutting into his scalp, and he screamed. In the
waking world, he had an erection as the dream-clippers cut his hair
down to the skin. His hand went to his crotch, and feeling the
lack of balls there, the dream shifted.
“It’s for you own good, Mikey,” someone was saying to him, and
he saw himself naked and strapped down to an operating table of
some kind. There was a man there, someone he didn’t know, but
thought that he should. He had a mask on. Then the restraint of
his left hand broke loose, and Michael’s hand flashed up to tear
the mask from the man’s face. Michael noticed a bracelet of some
kind on his wrist - it was made of metal and had code all over it.
This next man was Ned, and he was holding a red bag with a long
white hose. “Trust me, Mikey,” he was saying, “we have to do
this.” Then he was no longer on the table, but naked in the shower
and hot soapy water was being pumped up his ass and his stomach was
swelling. The cramps were intense, and he cried out for someone,
anyone, to help him. He heard a scratching sound, and he saw Ames
standing by the table. He was sharpening a knife.
“He isn’t going to hurt you unless you make him do it,” Ned
was saying.
There were screams in the hall, from whom, Michael didn’t know.
“Uh-are y-you gonna c-c-castrate me?” he cried.
“No,” Ned said.
“It’s for your own good, Mikey,” Ames replied, with two guards
coming after him.
He knew one of them - the bald black boy - it was Sam and he
was smiling. “Let’s cut it all off, Mikey, without balls you can’t
use THAT anyway! Why you gotta be so cute?”
On the couch, Michael turned over in his sleep and cried out
softly for help. None came, though.
After about an hour of searching, Ned and Bolton came to the
door that was half ajar. They saw the cigarette butt, and a small
bit of coffee stain on the floor. “I think we be on the trail
now,” Bolton announced.
Ned sighed in relief. “Where does THIS door go to?”
“Down and up,” Bolton replied. “We call it ‘the maze.”
Ned sighed again, deeply this time.
Ames made his way to the front door, and found he couldn’t get
it open. Shift change would be coming in soon, and he had to find
a way to get things under control. What he didn’t know was that
news of IO’s problems had already reached, with help from Jason,
the news media. Ames rushed back to check the gym, and that
relieved him a bit. Everyone seemed to be having a good time doing
this and that. At least he didn’t have to worry about the
inmates ... yet.
The charming brunette checked her hair and adjusted her
bra. “How do I look?” she demanded of the cameraman, her very
appearance daring him to say something out of line. “Marvelous,
Linda,” he replied automatically, “we’re on in 10.” She nodded and
took a deep breath. What a story this was !
He counted down on his fingers, and the light atop the camera
came on.
“Good evening, I’m Linda Johnson, reporting live to you from
the front gate of the IO Rehab Center for Boys. Earlier today, we
learned that the main computer that controls this correctional
facility for juvenile male offenders crashed today. Inmates and
staff alike are trapped inside, and there has been no communication
since this happened. We have no word on the conditions inside, of
the staff nor the inmates. What we do have are ongoing rumors,
however, of barbaric and inhuman practices inside IO that are often
employed to control the inmates and allegedly rehabilitate them
into good citizens. Rumors of beatings, starvation, torture, and
even mind-control and castration have surfaced in the last few
years, along with the suicides of a few released inmates. It has
also been reported that several boys have died while confined here,
but we have no details on that. We have also learned that the
Complex here at IO is totally dependent on the computer system.
Joining us is local college student in grad work for computer
sciences and part time TA Jason Means, expert in computer sciences
and head of programming & research at the University. Jason, what
can you tell us about the IO Mainframe and how this could happen to
a state of the art machine that is so important ?”
“Thanks, Linda,” Jason began, “Well, the IO Mainframe is a
CyberHound System 2, replacing the prototype System 1 which had a
lot of problems. It’s basically a huge number cruncher, linked to
several scanners and cameras. It’s main job is to track each
individual at all times, control doors, comm. systems, utilities,
that sort of thing. It’s also reported to be one of the fastest
and most ‘intelligent’ systems ever built, being - in theory -
capable of running the Complex for up to a year without human
intervention. It uses redundant isolinear technology, and is
reported to be over a million time more ‘intelligent’ than the DEEP
BLUE computer of several years ago.” Then he grinned
evilly. “It’s also reputed to be crash proof.”
“But it has crashed?” Linda asked.
“It sure looks like it. My good friend and roomie at school,
Ned, is on staff here at IO and inside at the moment. Since cell
phones won’t work inside, we haven’t heard a word from him. You
have to wonder, though, Linda, what is going on in there with all
of the security offline. Is there a riot happening ? Is anyone
hurt ? What are they all doing ?”
“And right now, with the system down, there’s no way to know?”
Jason shook his head. “I was on the test team for this
monster system, and I don’t know what they could be doing but
sitting around in the dark talking, really. At least, I hope
that’s all they’re doing. There’s also no response from the mini
ISP that the system runs for Internet access inside. Hopefully
someone from CyberHound will come, or someone can get in through
those doors, but from what my bud told me, it’s pretty well sealed
tight.”
“What about laptops, then?” Linda asked, waving her mic like a
weapon.
Jason shook his head. “Cellulars don’t work inside, dampening
field.”
“And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, trapped inside
this prison for children, staff and inmates both, with no way to
tell what’s going on until someone shows up to try and force the
main gate and risk security systems that may or may not be working
still. We’ve all heard the rumors of course, about what goes on in
here. No one seems to want to talk about it, however, and even
former inmates are quiet about it. Remember to watch our in-depth
special report this Wednesday night on X-Treem View 9 when we
attempt to unravel some of the rumors about IO. I’m Linda Johnson,
Channel 9 News. Back to you, Howard.”
On the small monitor, ‘Howard,’ no more than a talking head,
nodded. “Thank you, Linda. Linda Johnson, live from the IO Rehab
Center for Boys where a computer crash has trapped the staff and
inmates inside, with no utilities, communications, or security.
One can only wonder how this crisis will be solved. Local
authorities advise that anyone seeking information on inmates or
staff, please DO NOT call the local police, as they are not
affiliated with IO. We will have more on this story in live
updates as the story continues to break.” Then Howard looked this
way and that, and said, “Strange place, we’ve heard. I know I
certainly wouldn’t want to be in there right now. Did you guys get
a look at that fence?”
“Looks pretty secure to me, Howard,” one of the other anchors
said.
“Indeed it does, Fred. And in our next story ...”
Ned and Bolton squeezed through the doorway and looked
around. The stairs went on down into the dimly lit reaches for
what seemed like forever, and upwards as well. Ned studied the
landing, and seeing another coffee spill on a step, he became
excited and pointed. “He went down!”
In his nightmare, Michael was being beaten. Ames was smacking
his face, punching his stomach, and screaming at him. “What did
you do, you little faggot? I know you did it, so spill it. You
saw it didn’t you?” Michael curled up into a ball, gasping for
breath, but Ames wouldn’t stop. You saw them, didn’t you, Mikey?
You were where you weren’t supposed to be and saw them!”
“I was lost !” the boy cried, trying to protect his face with
his hands, “Please don’t! I didn’t mean to, really!”
“You should have called for help then,” Ames replied coldly.
A sharp blow caught him in the ribs, and Michael cried out.
In the waking world, he tossed and whimpered on the couch, but the
parts of his brain that would have normally overloaded and awakened
him from an ordinary nightmare weren’t doing that. Of course, this
nightmare wasn’t ordinary, either. It was being brought on by no
sleep therapy from the pillow transceiver, overeating, and general
stress. When Cheng’s death was added to that, it made for the
perfect nightmare recipe.
Ames was strapping him back down to the table then, removing
his ID bracelet that he worn since the first day at IO. An intern
was rubbing some kind of jelly onto his temples and forehead, and
Ames was holding a wicked looking set of clamps. The intern forced
a rubber grip of some kind into Michael’s mouth, and it filled his
mouth entirely. He attached it to the struggling boy’s head
somehow, and Michael found that he couldn’t spit it out. Ames put
the clamp onto his head, and he felt it through the jelly. He saw
a cord running from the clamps to some kind of box. Then an
electric shock ripped through his head, and he tried to scream.
There was a shooting and burning pain under his left ear, and his
head felt as if it were splitting open. He shook and spasmed
again, then it was over and Ned was holding his hand. There were
tears in his eyes. “What have they done to you?” he was begging,
but Michael couldn’t answer him. He heard Ned arguing with
someone, Ames, he thought. “He’s in too bad a shape...”
“Just castrate him and be done with it...”
Then Ned was gone, and Cheng was releasing him from his
bonds. There was a video playing on the computer beside the table,
and Sam was onscreen. He was also lying on a table, and a masked
surgeon was cutting his penis off. Cheng smiled at him, bending
down to kiss him on the mouth, but Michael found himself choking on
blood as the Asian eunuch fell backwards with a red fountain
spewing from his lips, and a dreadful scream echoing through the
room.
And that was the trigger that woke him. Michael sat bolt
upright, covered in sweat. He screamed once. He was sobbing and
calling Cheng’s name, but there was no one to answer him. His body
ached, and a searing pain shot up from his groin. He reached down,
once again felt the fact that he was a eunuch, and cursed Ned
between sobs. His stomach ached, and wave a nausea shook him;
thankfully, he fought it down. Despite the psychosomatic pain in
his body, he got up. He was too afraid to go back to sleep, so he
set out again. On the way out the door, he took another can of
Coke and realized that he hadn’t missed dreaming all that much.
“Look here,” Bolton pointed out, picking a small piece of
dirty white lint from the plated step.
“It must have come off of his sock,” Ned observed.
Then they heard it, but from above. Ned had heard that cry
before, and his blood ran cold at the very sound of it. It was
Michael, and he was in pain.
“I thought he went down?” he demanded.
“Musta got bored and went back up. Makes sense if he’s
lookin’ to get out,” Bolton answered.
They both turned and ran back up the stairs.
As they rounded the landing on which they arrived, they saw
him at the top of the next. His white sweatsuit was wet with
sweat, spotted with what looked like blood, and he was shaking.
They headed up the stairs for him, but his blank and
uncomprehending stare made Ned seize Bolton’s arm and stop him. “S-
st-t-ay aw-w-wway from me!” the boy sobbed, backing up against the
rail.
“Michael, it’s me, Ned. Remember?”
The boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face. In one
hand he held a red pop can, and the other hand was hovering
protectively in front of his groin. “Y-yea, I know y-you,” he
stammered, which set of warning bells in Ned’s head. Stuttering
was the first phase, and worse yet, it looked as if Michael was
having another psychotic episode. For every step that Ned took,
hoping to sedate the hysterical boy and inject him with the
testosterone that would balance the endorphins in his brain, the
boy took a step back. He was shaking violently, and his eyes were
wild with fear. “I know y-you, YOU did th-th-this t-t-o me!” he
accused, his hand hovering in front of him.
Ned shook his head. “I had no choice, Michael. THINK,
Michael. You knew it would happen, didn’t you? I’m sorry,
Michael, I didn’t know, and it wasn’t MY idea. You don’t remember
how it was right up to before the castration, do you?”
“H-he b-b-beat me,” the boy cried, sitting down on the
landing, his feet dangling under the rail and over the edge, “H-he
beat m-me and s-said I s-saw some-th-thing I sh-sh-udn huv.”
With an intense feeling of dread welling up inside of him, Ned
realized that Michael’s altered memories were resurfacing. In his
present state, he didn’t know if the boy could handle it or not.
Ned nodded. In the dim light, he prayed fervently that the
boy could see him well enough. “That’s right, Michael. You saw
something. You wandered off somehow, a glitch in the system. You
wandered off, and you saw some things you shouldn’t have. That’s
why they did what they did to you. They were trying to erase the
horror of what you saw. But it didn’t work too well. You had an
episode like this one where you freaked out. We worked for a long
time to stabilize you, and we almost lost you.”
Michael shook his head, his hands at his temples. “Does it
hurt?” Ned demanded.
“N-no, not r-really,” he replied through his tears.
Ned took a step forward. Bolton did as well, and Michael
jumped up again. His eyes darted this way and that, as if looking
for somewhere to run.
“I won’ hurt ya, Mikey. You know dat, right?” the guard
asked.
Surprisingly, Michael nodded. “You won’t let Sam get me,
will you?” he asked in a small voice.
“Sam likes you, Mikey,” Bolton replied.
But Michael bowed his head and shook it again, his tremors
getting worse. “H-he killed someone, b-b-blew his h-heh-head off-f-
f, I s-saw it. H-he said th-things to m-me, ‘bout h-him not h-
having a p-pee-penis any-m-more ...”
Bolton nodded. “That’s right, Mikey. But he ain’t got one,
does he ? So he can’t use it on you, then, can he? And the
computers are down too, so no one’s gon’ get his head blowed off.”
“I ... I ... did something,” the boy began, “What Sam w-wants
to do to m-me, I d-did it.”
“To whom, Michael?” Ned asked. “What did you do?”
Ned, or course, already knew what Michael meant, but he was
stalling for time to inch closer. He really didn’t believe it,
however, given Michael’s eunuch status and his age.
He paused for a moment, trying to ascertain what was real and
what wasn’t. He then leaned against the wall and slid down with a
thud.
Michael choked and whimpered, his head between his knees.
Ned’s heart felt as if it would break listening to his little
brother’s cries of anguish, but somehow he felt that he had to make
him say it. Somehow, he had to let him know that it was going to
be all right again.
“T-to Ch-Cheng,” he whispered.
Ned was taken by surprise. For a moment he was too shocked to
say anything. “Did you do ALL of it, Michael?” he asked.
The boy nodded.
Ned raised one eyebrow. It seemed that castration hadn’t
exactly stopped him in his tracks, so to say. In fact, it looked
as if it had triggered a sexual awakening in the boy. “Did Cheng
like it?”
Again, he nodded. “It w-was his i-iye-de-uh.”
“It was HIS idea then? And did you like it too?” Ned pressed.
There was an interminable silence, then slowly, Michael
nodded. “I-I think I’m g-gay,” he managed to admit.
Slowly, they moved closer. “It’s ok, Michael, even if you are
and it just wasn’t one of those things, no one’s going to hold it
against you. It might be just a phase all boys go through.”
The boy whimpered, and Ned took the opportunity to rush him.
He grabbed Michael, and held his arms as the surprised boy thrashed
and screamed and tried to get loose. “L-lh-et me go!”
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Ned choked, trying hard to keep his
emotions under control, “This really IS for your own good. Bolton,
the green syringe. Stick him in the ass cheek and shoot it all
in !”
Bolton pulled Michael’s pants down a bit to expose a cheek and
did that. “Now the yellow one,” Ned instructed.
Michael was sobbing and desperately trying to get loose. “N-
noooooo,” he howled, “P-p-pl-please, no, I’ll be g-g-good, I s-
swear I w-wh-ill!”
Ned stared into that small and tear-stained face, and he could
stand it no longer. He turned the boy, who was beginning to relax
as the drugs took hold. He pulled the struggling child into a
tight embrace, and the boy’s head found its way to his
shoulder. “Get it out, Michael,” Ned encouraged him.
“Y-you did th-this to m-me,” he accused, his voice quieter
now, “Y-you c-c-cut my b-balls off!”
Ned almost began to cry himself then, but he held it in
check. “I didn’t know it was time, Michael. I tried to get out of
it, but Ames brought you in on my shift. You were in such bad
shape then ...”
And then Ned realized it. What Michael had just divulged
began to make sense. Ames had beaten the boy that day, after
catching him wandering the halls alone. Ames had done something to
him to cause the angry red welts on his head, probably electro-
shock. And when he had finished with him, he had brought him to
ICU and ordered his castration with the rest of his treatment. He
had known, Ned was now sure. The bastard had known, and set him up
so that he would be exposed to, and eventually, be forced to
castrate his own little brother. In some sick way, Ames was taking
delight in the fact that he was driving an insurmountable wedge
between Ned and the boy whom Ames had already known was his little
brother.
Realizing his time was growing short, Ned dug in. “Michael,
think back. Ames hurt you. Before you lost your balls, he hurt
you. Why did he hurt you? Tell me, please.”
“I r-remember it n-now, b-but I dint before,” he said, “I was
l-l-lost. I s-saw them w-with some b-boy I don’t know. Th-they
had th-this thing on h-his h-head and told h-him t-t-to forget.”
“Did they shock him?” Ned supplied.
The boy nodded. “H-he d-did m-m-me too. M-made me forg-g-get
til now.”
“What else?”
“They s-stuck a l-long n-n-needle in his h-head, up under h-
his ear.”
“Anything else?”
“There w-was another old-der boy, and s-s-someone said he w-
was dead. Ames t-t-told them to cut him op-op-pen and find out w-
why. They c-cut his h-head op-p-en. S-said if I w-wasn’t g-good
it would b-be m-me next.”
“Did they do anything else to you, that you can remember?”
“M-made me w-watch ‘em o-p-pen him up. Then h-h-he b-beat m-
me ag-g-gain ...”
Michael’s shaking grew more violent, his stuttering worse, and
Ned suspected that a full blown seizure was coming. He asked
Bolton for another yellow syringe, and liberally injected the boy
with it.
Ned ran over it in his mind. Michael had gotten lost and seen
them doing something to another boy, somehow, shortly after his
arrival. Some minor glitch in the Mainframe hadn’t recognized his
ID bracelet, and had let him wander. They had shown him what would
happen, to frighten him, then tried to erase only certain parts of
his memory while encouraging others. Then he’d seen Sam dispatch
Harvey. And they had beaten him. Combined with the endorphins the
boy was already experiencing, it was a wonder that Michael had
lasted this long. And Cheng’s death, along with Michael’s sexual
explorations, certainly hadn’t helped. No wonder he had had so
many episodes. It was this episode, however, this overwhelming
fear and whatever had made him scream to begin with, that had
brought it all back.
“You’ll pay for this one, Ames, God, how you will pay for it!”
Michael’s shaking subsided, and his breathing became slow and
regular. Ned lifted his limp form and held the boy close to him,
protectively. “Let’s put him to bed,” he said, taking notice of
how the boy had grown and how he had put on some weight. He wasn’t
sure for how long he could carry him.
Bolton nodded. “Where ya think he got dat Coke?”
In the gym, Sam and Joey were sitting on the floor watching
the others play ball in the dim light. “So where ya think Mikey
is?” Sam mused.
Joey shrugged. “Dunno. Where COULD he be?”
“Probably havin’ fun, knowin’ him,” Sam replied.
Joey shrugged. “He’s gonna get in trouble.”
Sam thought for a moment. “He was fucked up over Cheng, ya
know.”
Joey didn’t answer. Sam wrapped an arm about the pale boy’s
shoulders and pulled him close.
Outside the front gate, a team of officers were debating on
how to gain entry to the building. They argued for a while, until
one of them came up with the wonderful idea of running his rather
large and overpowered four wheel drive truck through the front gate
and on into the front door, effectively turning the receiving
office into a drive-thru. The noise was awful. Linda Johnson
faithfully reported to the news anchors that access to the compound
had been gained.
Back in his office, Ames was worried. How much did Ned
know? And what did he want? He bit his fingernail and leafed
through some papers in a folder that he had found on his desk. A
chill passed through him as he saw papers about mistrials,
notification of kin, custody hearings, miscarriage of justice,
wrongful sentencing of a minor ... the list went on. Ames began to
have second thoughts at that point. Of course when Ned had been
hired, there had been a background check. The adoption at age six
was public record, and so was Ned’s old surname. Then when Michael
had been admitted to IO, the Mainframe had promptly reported that
Ned and the new inmate, Michael, were half-brothers. Ames admitted
to himself that he hadn’t really liked Ned from the start,
irrational as it was. A urology specialist was just what IO needed
at the time, but there was something about his attitude. It had
seemed like the perfect way to make a mess of Ned’s life, but then
again, Ames wasn’t really sure - in retrospect - why he hated Ned
so much. He leaned back in his chair and laughed a humorless laugh
at the idea of Ned being the one to castrate his own little
brother, a brother that he hadn’t known that he had had until it
was too late. “One should enjoy his work,” Ames theorized
aloud, “And he doesn’t. One must learn proper behavior, after
all. It’s for their own good, after all. Little heathen bastards.”
Then he came to a paper with a bright red header. There was
a picture on that paper ... a picture of a pale white boy with a
short buzzcut to his dark hair. The eyes in the picture were
downcast, but Ames knew that face. He began to tremble. In
stunned amazement that someone had found the file that he thought
he had buried so long ago, he read it aloud to himself for mere
confirmation.
He stared in shock at the yellow Post-It note on the red
header. DID YOU THINK NO ONE WOULD EVER SEE THIS AGAIN, AMES? - NED
Above the picture was a name. That name was Joey.
Below the photo was the full name: Joseph Thomas Ames, Jr..