The Corporation

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALAN PERKINS HAD been correct about the immersion. When it was presented to Michelle that afternoon at two o’clock, they gave her the impression it was a form of privilege and pampering for the upper-level executive consultants as well as all the upper-level managers and executives. “Think of it as another perk,” Sam Greenberg told her as he led her down a well-lighted hallway in the basement of the building toward a door at the end. “Corporate Financial has a gymnasium, a swimming pool and sauna, a racquetball court, and an executive lounge and bar as part of its benefits package for all our upper level staff members. We also bring in personal trainers and other therapists. This is just one sort of therapy. It’s a form of anti-stress, light hypnosis designed to open certain parts of your mind and prepare them for high levels of thought and analytical thinking you will be performing as part of your duties to our team.”

“So it’s like a high grade of psychotherapy geared toward your upper-level staff,” Michelle said.

“Yes, very much so,” Sam Greenberg responded. “Ah, here we are.” He led Michelle through a pair of large doors that, in turn, led to a small waiting room. Another hallway branched off into darkness. There was a maroon-colored receptionist desk to her right; it was currently empty. Sam led her across the waiting area toward the hall. “Linda is on assignment on the fourth floor,” he explained. “She’s a great hypnotherapist and many times she’s called up by Bruce or even Frank Marstein himself to tend to somebody at their desk. She’s very good at what she does.”

Sam led her down the dark hallway and stopped at a door. He opened it and went inside. Michelle followed him.

The room was small and well-lit. There was a potted plant in one corner and a comfortable-looking lounge in the center. “Lie down on the lounge,” Sam said. “I can get you started.”

Michelle set her briefcase, laptop, and purse down on one side of the lounge and settled herself down. This is where it starts, she thought as she stretched out. Despite knowing what was going to happen, what Sam had in store for her, she wasn’t afraid.

Sam was standing near the door fiddling with something on the wall. A moment later she heard gentle, soothing music pipe in from hidden speakers. “There we go,” he said. He turned to her, his features pleasant, smiling. “Simply lie down, relax, close your eyes. I’ve set the first wave in motion and this is just something to calm you down, get you in the mood. I’ll post a note on Linda’s desk that you’re here and she can work on the rest of your immersion when she returns.”

“Okay,” Michelle said. She closed her eyes. “Will she actually come in the room?”

“Probably for a little bit,” Sam said. “She’ll want to make sure I’ve put the right program in and have the settings adjusted right. Then she’ll be outside monitoring you.”

Michelle thought about this as Sam left. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.

“Okay.”

The minute Sam was gone Michelle opened her eyes.

She lay on the lounge, staying silent and motionless. The room was darkened. The music was low, soothing, and combined with the atmosphere in the room—temperature, the scent, which was smoothly intoxicating with a hint of jasmine. If she’d kept her eyes closed she was sure she would have gone under quickly. The mood was very relaxing, designed to put you in a dream-like semi-conscious state that would allow one to enter your thoughts and influence your thinking.

She wondered how this worked and she allowed herself to close her eyes briefly. No telling if there were hidden cameras in the room watching her. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the music for a little bit, letting it transport her, caressing her pleasure senses. The slight scent of jasmine was wonderful and it put her in a relaxed state of mind. The temperature felt like the offshore breezes of the ocean; calm, peaceful, paradise. Michelle smiled, day dreaming about the daughter she had that was lost to her so quickly. In her daydream she pictured Alanis as a healthy ten-year-old, and mother and daughter were on some remote island paradise. Michelle was relaxing in a hammock, eyes closed, feeling the ocean breeze blow from a crystal clear blue ocean off their private beach as Alanis played in the sand near her, her daughter’s happy voice laughing as she made up some childish game that was bringing her joy. The dream was wonderful, one Michelle wished she could step into and disappear into, having it become reality.

Alanis stood up. She was wearing a yellow bathing suit. Her hair was golden and wavy, her skin tanned from the sun. There was damp sand on her feet and ankles. “Mommy! Look what I found!”

Michelle opened her eyes and looked at what Alanis was holding in her palm. “It’s a sand dollar!” Alanis said, excited.

The image was blurry. Her mind and body were tired from relaxing in the hammock—she felt like she had been floating on big white fluffy clouds. The sun was warm and pleasant and the offshore breeze kept off the heat, making it perfectly pleasant. Michelle blinked, trying to adjust her vision to see what Alanis was holding.

It wasn’t a sand dollar. It was a silver dollar. Michelle frowned.

“Honey, this is a silver dollar.”

“I found it in the sand!” Alanis squealed. “Look! There’s more!” Alanis knelt down and with both hands grabbed up a double fistful of the silver dollars and held them out to Michelle. “Sand dollars! Sand dollars!”

Michelle looked at the fistfuls of silver dollars in Alanis’s hands and then down at the hole in the sand she’d found them in and saw more of them spilling out. She could see little tremors in the sand as more silver dollars burrowed their way up. It looked like thousands of tiny sand crabs were digging their way out. More silver dollars burbled up from the hole from where Alanis had dug the initial handful. It looked like they were spewing from the earth. “Honey, those are silver dollars.”

“Sand dollars!” Alanis said, and Michelle felt her spine chill at the sight of her daughter’s face as she threw the silver dollars up and scooped another handful out of the sand and threw them into the air. Alanis’s eyes were blank muddy pits devoid of emotion, possessed by a singular greedy purpose now. “Sand dollars, sand dollars, sand dollars, dollars dollars dollars!” Alanis grabbed up huge fistfuls of the silver dollars and threw them in the air again and again, and Michelle felt terror strike her heart and the sight of her little girl’s face so drastically changed propelled her to flee and she did, she lunged out of the hammock and fell into the sand and the impact of the gritty sand hitting her bare knees jarred her—

—awake.

Michelle started and opened her eyes.

She was still in the immersion room. She was panting, her heart racing.

The smell of jasmine and the soothing atmosphere still enveloped her, seeming to cover her. The skin along her arms prickled, as if being tickled by tiny hairs. Likewise, the skin along her scalp and the inside of her legs tickled. She shook her head to clear it and when she moved she felt the feathery sensation along her arms burn slightly, as if a bandage had been ripped off suddenly. This feeling happened everywhere, all along her body. Her vision swam, blurred, then focused as she sat up abruptly. She felt her stomach lurch and for a moment she was dizzy. She controlled her breathing and closed her eyes, getting control of herself. When she felt the pleasant sensation seep back and her vertigo return to normal, she shook her head again and opened her eyes, her vision swimming briefly and then coming back into focus. This time she remained seated on the cot, waiting to feel some sense of normalcy.

Jesus, what’s going on? What’s happening to me?

She looked around the room. Everything looked normal. The soothing, dark blue lights still cast their relaxing shade. The atmosphere was still pleasing. The music still played softly in the background. The smell of jasmine was still in the air.

She still felt the feathers of sensation prickle along her arms, inside her pant suit legs, tickling her inner thighs and calves, snaking into her blouse and tickling her breasts, her belly, felt them caress her scalp.

She swung her legs over the cot and stood up suddenly and once again she felt that sensation of burning, as if tiny hairs were being suddenly yanked from her skin where the feathery sensations had been. Her heart thudded, understanding suddenly flooding her senses.

Immersion.

She was at the door to the room in an instant, ear pressed against it, trying to listen for any sounds outside. It was hard to listen with the music playing softly in the background. She waited for the sound of footsteps, for somebody to check on her, to see why she’d gotten up and interrupted the immersion process. She waited for two minutes; surely somebody, Linda or Sam, would have come down as quickly as possible. Nobody was coming, though. She was alone down here. For some reason they weren’t monitoring her the way she’d thought they would. She looked at the device bolted into the wall. It resembled a common room temperature station with various LED panels and knobs. She didn’t know what they meant and she didn’t care. She was getting out of here now.

She went back to the cot and opened the briefcase quickly and brought one of the explosive devices out. She placed it underneath the cot, closed the briefcase, then grabbed her purse and went back to the door. She tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

She eased the door open and peaked outside.

The hallway was empty.

Nobody came from the lobby to investigate the newly opened door to the immersion room. Likewise she heard no alarms, saw no flashing lights that would indicate she’d triggered an alarm.

Holding her breath, she eased out of the room and closed the door softly. Then she stepped slowly into the lobby.

The receptionist desk was still empty.

This was her chance. Her best bet was to dart back down the hallway, plant another explosive or two in one of the other rooms, then plant one at the reception desk itself and get the hell out of there. She checked her watch quickly. It was two-thirty; Rachel didn’t have to wake her up. She wondered where Alan was now as she headed back down the hallway, preparing to leave one of the explosive devices in one of the other rooms. She had no idea if anybody else was in one of these rooms but if they were, they were probably under the intoxicating influence of Corporate Financial. They wouldn’t be shaken out of their trance.

She approached the first door she came to on her right and put her ear to it, trying to listen for any sounds within. Hearing nothing, she turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly.

Like the immersion room she’d just come out of, this room was bathed in a soft florescent blue light. The music and the relaxing atmosphere was present, and as Michelle stepped further into the room she saw a prone figure lying on the cot in the middle of the room. What appeared to be thick strands of webbing were attached to the figure, like strands of corn silk. They were attached to something beneath the cot, enveloping the figure completely. Another new Corporate Financial consultant? Curious, she stepped forward cautiously and took a quick peek.

She suppressed a gasp as she saw her mother lying on the cot.

When her mother shuddered, moaned, and opened her eyes it took every ounce of Michelle’s will-power to bite back the scream that threatened to unleash from her throat.

WHEN THEY REACHED the basement Mark Hodges and Bob Gutenberg herded Alan Perkins down a hallway. Debbie White trailed along behind them, still clutching the explosive device. They paused in front of a door in the middle of the hallway and Mark opened it with a key. Bob shoved Alan through the door and they followed him inside.

Alan took everything in quickly. The room was small and contained a desk and two chairs. The lighting was dim, but Bob flicked a switch and turned up the brightness in the room. Mark closed the door behind him. The three of them fixed Alan with those uneasy, blank stares.

Alan still tried to play dumb. “Will you explain to me what is going on here?”

“Where did you get these?” Debbie asked, holding up the explosive device.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mark took the device from Debbie and turned it over in his hands. He appeared to be studying it. He fiddled with it and quickly got the lid off, displaying the batteries, the detonating device, and the C4. He held it up to Alan. “How many of these did you plant in the data center?”

“I didn’t put that in the data center,” Alan said. He knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but damned if he was going to say anything to them.

“How many of these did you place in the building?” Debbie asked.

“I didn’t place any in—”

“There were three left in your briefcase,” Bob said. “My guess is it was full of these things before we caught you. You obviously planted a bunch of these throughout the building. Where?”

Alan regarded them, trying to be calm. “You guys are out of your mind.”

“You need to be punished,” Mark Hodges said, his voice a flat monotone.

“You know what? I’ve had enough of this. I quit!” Alan made to leave the room. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door was locked.

“You can’t quit. You’re part of the company.” Mark’s gaze was direct, yet empty.

“Bullshit! Unlock the door and let me out! I’m quitting!”

Mark turned to Debbie. “Call Mr. Marstein.”

Debbie picked up the receiver of a black phone on the desk, punched in a series of numbers and waited. “Mr. Marstein? Debbie White from the data center. We have a little problem in the disciplinary room.” Pause. “We discovered a consultant named Alan Perkins planting homemade explosive devices in the data center.” Pause. “No, I don’t know how many he planted.” Beat. “Yes.” Longer pause. Mark and Bob watched her, their emotions wooden as Debbie listened to Frank Marstein. Alan couldn’t help but feel terrified. “Yes, Mr. Marstein. I understand. We’ll wait until she arrives. Yes.”

Wait until who arrives? Alan thought. Did Michelle get caught, too?

Debbie hung up the phone and turned to her co-workers. “Mr. Marstein is sending somebody down for Alan. We’re to wait until she arrives.”

“Okay.” Mark nodded, his eyes lighting briefly on Alan’s for a moment and then the three of them became motionless. Alan watched them, studying each one of them intently. It was like they were robots or puppets that had suddenly been turned off; they stood motionless like wooden statues. He felt his skin gooseflesh.

Who are they sending down? Is Michelle okay? I hope they didn’t catch her, I hope—

His mind jumped into overdrive as he tried to think about what to do. He hadn’t anticipated this sudden chain of events and he tried to think of a way out of this. He could try making a break for it when this other person showed up. He was going to have to plan his escape by ear now. He glanced at his watch. It was two-thirty. He had to work fast, get out here, and call Rachel to give her the message to detonate all the explosive devices that would blow this building and its occupants, not to mention that dark hellish creature that controlled it, off the face of the earth.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and his heart began to race. Here it is, he thought, priming himself up to make a bolt for the door.

Mark unlocked the door and opened it.

A woman entered the room, nodded at the data center employees and for a moment Alan was too stunned to do anything. He was rooted to the spot. The three data center employees left the room and the door closed behind him, leaving Alan alone with the woman who had captured his complete undivided attention.

“Oh my God,” Alan said, feeling his emotions crumble.

“Hello Alan,” Susan Vickers said. She smiled.

IT WASN’T AT all like Dracula or ’Salem’s Lot. When Connie Dowling looked at her, Michelle felt no hypnotic power coming from her mother; she wasn’t held by the power of her mother’s gaze. If anything she was repelled. Michelle got over her initial fright, then snapped open her briefcase quickly and pulled out one of the explosive devices. She knelt down to place it underneath the cot and scrunched up her face in disgust at what could only be described as a thick jelly-like substance bubbled beneath the cot. The substance had no scent but it appeared to have texture. The spiderweb strand things emanated from it and crept over the cot, engulfing her mother, attaching themselves to her scalp and arms. That must have been what I felt when I got up, Michelle thought with rising disgust, remembering the slight painful sensation of a bandage being ripped off her arm suddenly. She had no idea what the things were, and had no desire to come in contact with them. Somehow, she knew that if she touched it the thing would grab her, like the Blob in that old 1950’s B-movie. So instead of shoving the explosive device beneath the cot she simply placed it on the floor next to it and stood up.

“Honey!”

The sound of her mother’s voice was so alien, so… so wrong, yet at the same time hearing it felt so good. Michelle stopped at the sound of it and turned around. Her mother was trying to raise her head up, and at the sight of Connie Dowling’s face Michelle almost broke down in tears.

Connie Dowling was struggling; that much was apparent from the strain in her anguished features. Michelle stood rooted to the spot, fighting back the tears as she watched her mother. There was something different about her, something Michelle had never seen before, and as she watched, trying to decide what to do, her mother made eye contact with her again and said in a raspy voice. “Help me!”

That broke Michelle’s temporary paralysis and she was at her mother’s side in an instant. Michelle almost touched the stuff covering Connie’s face and body, her instinctual revulsion to coming in direct contact with the thing strong, holding her back. Connie Dowling looked up at Michelle, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. “Michelle… honey… please help me…”

“What’s going on?” Michelle said, terrified at what was happening.

“You know what’s happening,” Connie said. The older woman closed her eyes for a moment and Michelle could sense the struggle going on within. Connie opened her eyes again, seeming to get her strength back, and then looked up at Michelle. “It’s hard to fight it. So hard. It gets into you… makes you feel so strong and good… makes you feel… wanted…”

“Mom?” Michelle’s voice threatened to break. Something was happening here. It looked like her mother was trying to fight Corporate Financial.

“I knew it was you when I saw you yesterday but I didn’t want to say anything,” Connie Dowling said. She was breathing heavily from the exertion of her struggle. “I didn’t know how… deep they’d gotten you. I didn’t want them… didn’t want to… didn’t want them to…”

“It’s okay Mom,” Michelle said, still afraid to touch the stuff attached to her mother.

Connie Dowling looked wounded and beaten. “Please help me… I never… never wanted to be away from you like this…”

And then Michelle let forth the sob she’d been holding back and she felt her emotions collapse. She almost sunk to the floor. “Oh, mother!”

“I know you can do it,” Connie said, struggling with her words. “It’s… it’s so strong, but… you’re stronger… I can feel it. Just… just…” Connie closed her eyes and something happened—it almost looked like her mother was having a light seizure. As quick as it came it was gone, and Connie opened her eyes. “…pull those… tendrils off me…”

Michelle looked at the thin strands of webbing covering her mother and shuddered. “Oh my God… I can’t!”

“You can!” It came out as a hiss. Connie Dowling’s eyes were desperate, pleading. “I want… I want you in my life, Michelle. Please! I know things weren’t so great when you were growing up and… I regret that… but… it’s just so strong…”

Michelle felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she stood over her mother. She did want to help her. If this was the chance to save her and perhaps have the relationship she’d never had with her, she wanted to take it. “Oh mom!” Michelle said, her voice breaking.

“You can do it,” Connie said, struggling. “I know you can. Just… get these…”

Michelle tentatively put her right hand close to the tendrils wrapping her mother’s body and instinctively flinched. Her belly crawled. “I can’t!” She cried.

“You can!” Connie said. “Just… fight it! Remember the good times we had… remember those times… when you were young and your daddy and I… lived in New Jersey and you were growing up… just remember the good times and think about them as you pull these… these things away from me.”

Michelle took a deep breath, suddenly realizing what she had to do but not wanting to do it. She stifled back a sob and stood over her mother, torn by her decision.

FOR THE FIRST time in three years Alan Perkins was alone with his ex-fiancé Susan Vickers.

He was feeling his resolve crumble.

Susan was crying.

“I’m so sorry, Alan!” Susan sobbed into her palms, her shoulders shaking, as Alan stood there in stunned shock. He still couldn’t get over the fact that she was here and that she seemed so different!

She wasn’t anything like the wooden, unemotional woman she’d been in the last year of their relationship. Back then Susan had lost all of the emotional characteristics he’d fallen in love with. All she’d been concerned about was work.

Now she was actually crying. She actually seemed emotionally affected at the sight of him.

“I didn’t mean to drive you away,” Susan said between sobs. “I just… wanted to get in a position with my career where I could be comfortable. You know… I wanted a stable position… one that… I could manage my time wisely and then… you know…” She wiped her eyes and looked at him. Alan was remembering the last five years of their relationship when she started to drift away emotionally, the time Corporate Financial started taking over. It was all coming back to him in quick images; the long nights alone in their townhouse, the weekends spent apart because she was always working, the vacations she started canceling because she had work to do, her inability to open up to him the way she used to when they’d first met. “I had to work like hell to make a reach for the brass ring because I knew that when I got it we could have a life together.” She looked at him, her blue eyes deep and penetrating. For the first time in years Alan thought he could see the woman he once knew before Susan was taken over by Corporate Financial. “Do you understand?”

Alan wanted to understand. He was fighting to keep his emotions down. Seeing her like this—emotional, crying, having her be the way she was before she drifted away from him—was affecting him profoundly. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing his tears down. “I do. But Susan—”

Susan stopped what he was going to say by pressing her index finger over his mouth. The feel of her skin on his lips sent a tingle of sensation down his spine and he felt his eyes pool with tears. “I know you understand,” she said. She drew closer to him and he could smell her perfume. Memories of their life together before she changed began to overwhelm him and he choked back a sob. “I know you remember the way things were before I put things on hold so I could work on my career. I thought you would understand. I know that you were working hard too and that—”

“I didn’t abandon you though!” Alan cried out, and now he couldn’t help it. He started crying. “I was always there for you! Always! I never put my job over our relationship!”

“I know,” Susan said, breaking down again. “And I’m so sorry. I really am, Alan. I never wanted this to happen.” She tried to embrace him but Alan pulled away. “Please Alan!” She pleaded. “Don’t pull away from me now!”

“Oh, so now you want me back!” Alan cried. Susan’s form was blurry through his tears. He wiped them away with his fingers. “Now that your career is at the place you want it, you think you can just come back to me and we can pick up where we left off.”

“I’d like to try,” Susan said. Alan couldn’t help but notice that she really had changed. She was no longer the unemotional corporate drone she’d turned into in the phase of their relationship. “I remember we talked about it before, when we first got together. How we wanted to get our careers started before we got settled into our relationship. Then we would get married… have a family. I… I know I was wrong to neglect you when I was working at getting to where I am now with my career, but… don’t I get another chance?”

Alan felt a pang of guilt worm through him as he struggled to hold his emotions in. They had talked about this early on in their relationship, how they realized they would have to put in extra effort in their chosen career paths so they could get to a comfortable position to enable them to turn their attention to their relationship and starting a family. They were young when they first got together—just out of graduate school. They still had six years to go before each of them turned thirty and Alan remembered they’d talked about getting married when they turned twenty-six. Of course that never happened, their careers had been more demanding than either of them had expected, so they pushed it back another year, and then when they decided to get married at the age of twenty-eight it never happened because by then Susan was totally ensnared by Corporate Financial and had become a completely different person. She had changed so drastically in such a short time span that Alan felt like he didn’t even know her. She no longer had an interest in getting married, in having kids; she’d even lost interest in her hobbies. She’d never been around to talk about it because she was always working, and whenever he’d tried to bring the subject up she dismissed it.

Or at least that’s how it seemed at the time. Seeing her here now, hearing what she was saying, was driving a spike of doubt into everything he had been led to believe in the past five years.

“Alan… please!” Susan was crying; tears streamed down her cheeks. She grasped Alan’s upper arms and he instinctively reached out to her. “Please forgive me!”

Alan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying openly now. “Oh Susan!” he gasped, thinking, have I been suckered the whole time? Have I… have I lost my mind?

“I’m in that place now, Alan,” Susan said. She melted against him and another piece of his armor slipped away at the feel of her body melding against his. “For the first time in my life I feel ready. I want you.” She looked up at him and there was no doubt in Alan’s mind now that he was looking at the woman—the real Susan Vickers—that he’d fallen in love with. “I want you and I want to live the rest of my life with you. I want to start over. I want to grow old with you, have your child—”

Alan choked back a sob and held her, trying to stem the rising tide of emotions but unable to stop it. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. His Susan—his love—was back!

And then he let the barriers down and the tears rolled more freely down his face and he cried, the long-buried emotions finally coming to the surface as he held her tightly, not wanting to let go of her ever again.

“YOUR FATHER WANTS to see you,” Connie Dowling said, still struggling to break free of the tendrils that enveloped her body. “He’s… not far from here. When we… have these brief moments of… ourselves… you’re the first person we talk about.”

Michelle’s vision was blurry from her tears as she fought to keep the intense emotions she was feeling down. Her throat hurt. Memories of her childhood were rushing past her, making the hurt even more raw and painful.

“I know you remember,” Connie said. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Michelle watched and waited, wondering what to do. Connie seemed to be holding her breath. Her limbs trembled; a vein pulsed in her forehead. Michelle stifled back a cry. My God, what’s happening? Is she having a stroke? A heart attack?

When Connie opened her eyes she released a long breath. Her eyes, empty and muddy-looking yesterday when she saw her, now had a vibrancy in them that Michelle had never seen before. Connie’s demeanor seemed to change, her face grimaced and then relaxed, as if some unseen force was doing battle within. Her eyes would go from cloudy and unemotional to being filled with stark fear and fiery passion. When she shook her head Michelle stepped back, nervous about what was happening.

Finally the struggle stopped. Connie opened her eyes again and Michelle saw the urgency in them. “Run, Michelle! Get away from here now!”

Michelle broke down, confused. “Mother, what’s happening to you?”

Connie stifled back a sob of her own. “Michelle, I love you, please just listen to me and go!”

“I have to get you out!” Michelle made an attempt to go back to where Connie was laying but stopped short of touching the tendrils attached to her mother’s skin.

“No—” Connie Dowling shuddered, eyes locked open then suddenly closing again. When she opened them again she was panting. Her face was slick with moisture. She looked back at Michelle. “I know you… remember… when you were a child… and I’m sorry… please… trust those memories…” Her eyes closed and she went into those mini-convulsions again.

Michelle backed into the corner near the door and sobbed.

The episode lasted a long time—almost a minute. When it was over Connie Dowling lay prone on the cot. Michelle watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, then her mother opened her eyes. “Michelle?”

Michelle said nothing, too afraid to move.

“Michelle?” Connie’s eyes traveled the room until they locked on her. They were the eyes of a warm, caring woman. “Michelle… listen to me.”

“I’m so scared,” Michelle whimpered. All the memories and emotions that had come blasting through were now gone, leaving traces of themselves to linger in her mind.

“Look at me,” Connie said quickly. “Listen to me. I’m… trapped, honey. I know that you know what’s going on, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Your father and I…” Another small tremor passed through Connie and was gone quickly. “Your father… and I… were forced to watch you grow up as Corporate Financial took over us… our bodies… our minds…” She appeared to struggle again and her voice choked. “We always loved you. I know you didn’t know that then, that we didn’t tell you because… we couldn’t… Corporate Financial wouldn’t let us… but I’m telling you now… we always loved you.”

Michelle stifled back another sob. Despite the fact that her mother’s voice sounded choked the emotion in it was genuine. This was her real mother speaking to her from somewhere deep inside the flesh and blood shell of her physical self, the part that had been taken over by Corporate Financial. Connie Dowling’s real self had emerged and was fighting for control. “Oh, mom!”

Connie’s eyes closed again as another series of small tremors overtook her, then her eyes opened again. “I’m trying to fight it,” she said. “God help me, I want to fight it.”

And at the sound of Connie Dowling’s voice Michelle broke through her temporary paralysis and approached the cot. She picked up the explosive device she’d left at the foot of the cot, feeling the weight of it in her hands as she stood up and looked down at her mother. Tears continued to stream down her face as she locked her eyes with mother’s. “Mom?”

Connie Dowling looked at Michelle, her face struggling as Corporate Financial tried to take over. The light was going on and off in Connie’s eyes. “I’m trying to fight it… trying to… please…” Connie’s voice was raspy. “Help me… get these tendrils off and help me up. We’ll leave together… get your father, get him out, we’ll be a family again.”

“Mother,” Michelle said, trying to stifle back the tears.

“We’ll be a family again and it’ll be just like old times,” Connie Dowling said. She was smiling. “Remember how it used to be? Remember how things were when we were a family? Surely you remember the good times, don’t you?”

“Oh, mother,” Michelle said, holding back the sorrow as she took a deep breath, now knowing what she had to do.

Connie smiled wider as Michelle started to cry. “You remember! I knew you’d remember! Come… take these tendrils off. Help me…”

“I love you, mother,” Michelle said and then she raised the explosive device high over her head and brought it crashing down onto her mother’s skull. There was a hearty crunch as the heavy end of the device smashed into her mother’s forehead.

Connie Dowling went into convulsions and this time the tremors were different. They were those of a person with a serious head injury. Michelle dropped the explosive device she’d used to crush her mother’s skull with and scrambled back, stifling back a cry, part of her horrified at what she’d just done. God, I hope I did the right thing, omigod please I didn’t want her to suffer any more than she has to—

Then Connie Dowling stopped thrashing about and was still.

Michelle cried, slumped down into the corner, not knowing what to do now, only knowing that she had put her mother out of her misery and freed her spirit.

HOLDING SUSAN VICKERS again was like going back in time.

Susan was crying against his chest as he held her. Alan was crying, too. He couldn’t believe that he had let himself be taken in by this, that he had actually believed a corporate entity had manifested into a spiritual one.

What had he been thinking?

“Oh Alan,” Susan sobbed, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry.”

Alan could only hold her, so overwhelmed with grief of what he had put himself through, for allowing his stressed-out imagination to get the better of him, to allow it to be fed by those whack-nuts from the Coalition and so happy to finally be here with her, to see that she’d changed for the better. She’d gone through this so they could have a happy life together. He saw that now.

He was so overwhelmed with the emotions of seeing Susan Vickers again that he didn’t even notice the feathery sensations of the tendrils snaking out of Susan’s skin to make contact with his flesh.