“What happens if I say I am not ready?”
Preston grinned unsympathetically. “Then we’ll have to test it while you’re tied up. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.” He shrugged. “Actually, I lied. I do make the rules.” Preston laughed at his own joke.
“Then I am ready, I guess.” Pat lied.
“Good.” Preston helped Pat up by grabbing him by the wrist and pulling. As soon as he was standing, Pat shook his wrist loose and glared at Preston. “You don’t have to be so rude. I gave you options but you made things difficult. Do you know how expensive it is to fix large windows?”
“You know how much it costs to repair people? Nothing because you cannot repair people, sicko.” Pat spat.
“I would be offended, but I have all the power here.” Preston drawled, gazing at his nails in a bored fashion.
With that, Pat reluctantly followed a man that was more sick in the head than him. Pat had never thought that would be possible, but now that he had met Preston, it made him simultaneously discouraged about humanity and encouraged that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was.
Preston continued to make meaningless small talk as they wound through the hallways. He waved to nurses and acted as though this was simply a routine part of his day.
As they entered a new place, Pat took stock of his surroundings. This time, there were no windows or scissors that he could see. The only thing that was in there was a singular chair, a blinking metal computer on wheels, and a metal triangle standing upright that looked like his portal from home. Moments later, a few people who looked like students made their way into the space.
“Wonderful to have you all here.” Preston greeted them warmly.
Pat continued to look around for a means of escape, but without any weapons or a clear idea of which part of the Sherwood Servers building he was in, he wouldn’t be making it out easily. Besides, he was curious to see what he was about to partake in.
“Many of you may be familiar with Patrick Sherwood…recent CEO of Sherwood Servers.” Preston said mildly. He glanced over at Pat and winked as the students were taking notes. “This will be monumental if it is successful.” He then gestured for Pat to sit and reluctantly he sat in the only chair.
Pat thought that Dr. Evers was arrogant, but the pride in Preston Winston was slipping out more often now. Anytime he had read about Dr. Winston, it was always about how giving he was and the ways in which he was making space at the table for people of all backgrounds. Now Pat knew that this was simply a way for him to persuade people to give him what he wanted.
“Mr. Sherwood has graciously volunteered for our demonstration today.”
“I did not volunteer.” Pat said.
The crowd of students chuckled uncomfortably and Preston chortled. “All jokes aside…” Preston walked over to the machine. “We have installed an update in Patrick’s microchip that has been enabled to communicate with our portal here. In some cases, the original microchips have been shown to transport resolved mental health issues to another place instead of eliminating them completely. We will now be able to trace where those things go.”
Pat was even more curious now. If he ever got out, this would be valuable information for Zion’s research. Suddenly Pat felt a slight pang in his chest at the thought of Zion. The trust between them had started shaky, but now Pat knew how good of a man Zion was and wondered what he would think if he knew his friend Preston was such an evil man.
“Patrick, you may feel a slight electrical pulse as we start the program.” Preston informed him. “To be able to track a ‘resolved’ mental health issue, we must resolve one in the app.” Preston handed Pat a cell phone. His first thought was to text somebody, but he saw that there were no apps except the Sherwood Servers app. He selected it and logged into his account. “Just select something you don’t mind parting with.”
Pat looked at the recent activity and decided to resolve the anxiety he had as he had run from Preston. As he did this, Preston powered on the portal and Pat felt the electrical impulse in his brain. For a couple of heartbeats, nothing happened and even Preston looked doubtful. Then, the portal flickered and darkness appeared before them. Cool air blew in through the entrance of the portal that had been opened and Pat watched as he saw a glowing strand curl its way from the top of his head to the ceiling. It exploded into plants and the figure of Preston appeared, racing after Pat. Nobody but Pat and Preston would know what memory was being played out. Pat suddenly felt the anxiety he had felt when this situation had occurred, and then it dissipated. The memory played out a few more times and then flickered out into the darkness beyond.
“It works.” Preston muttered in disbelief.
The students had stopped taking notes and were simply staring, open-mouthed. Even though his anxiety about being chased was gone, Pat felt a new anxiety creeping up. Did this portal lead to the place that his portal at home did? Was this a portal into his mind? Whatever it was, Pat could feel nothing but fear about Preston having access to his private thoughts.
“Thank you. You can go.” Preston said. He wasn’t looking at his guests, but his hands flapped towards them to indicate for them to leave quickly.
They looked at each other and muttered amongst themselves, but like the dutiful mentees that they were, they left. Preston grinned wolfishly and grabbed Pat by the upper arm. Pulling a knife from his pocket with his right hand, he led Pat by blade point into the portal.
Preston was barely concealing his glee as he led Pat through a very familiar foyer. He was muttering to himself and making comments about everything they passed such as the peeling wallpaper and a dusty chandelier. Pat felt like he should have been more frightened, but the place was familiar. He was almost relieved to see it.
“This is magnificent.” Preston gushed. “What is this place?”
Pat shrugged
“What if this is a different realm?”
“I am here against my will, so I am not going to pretend to be excited to be here.” Pat licked his lips, bracing himself for the punishment.
Preston’s eyebrows lowered and he placed the knife tip on the hollow of Pat’s neck. “One more word and I’ll rip your vocal chords out.” Pat gave a cautious thumbs up and Preston moved the knife away from his neck, but still kept it poised nearby. Pat was pleased that he had gotten under this man’s skin.
Pat then remembered the pictures of the women he had brought here and felt a tinge of fear that Preston would notice. He seemed so enamored with the spacious place that he hadn’t looked at the paintings.
“Okay.” Preston bit his lip thoughtfully, then grabbed some fraying rope from the floor. “I’ll feel better if you can’t double-cross me.” He pocketed the knife and roughly grabbed Pat’s wrists. Yanking Pat’s arms behind him he tied the scratchy rope tightly around his wrists, forcing Pat’s hands in a praying position. This would have been the moment to pray if Pat was a religious man, but instead, his mind just sang screams in four-part harmony.
The knife made a reappearance and Preston led Pat through the room, gazing at the walls, ceiling, and floor as if in an art museum. To his despair, Preston’s eyes suddenly sparkled as he caught sight of the painting with Justice on it.
“Mrs. Sherwood? This must be your subconscious in physical form, then.” Preston’s fingers which had been stained with the blood of his many victims ran across the surface of the artwork. “She’s an angel, Patrick. You did good.” Pat had a strong urge to slap and kick him at the same time as shameful tears began welling in his eyes. Preston then laughed. “Easy there. I wouldn’t hurt her. Destroying a work of art such as hers would be criminal.”
“And murdering other people is not criminal?” Pat spat.
Preston paused as if deliberating, then continued to examine the portraits. “Janice?” He muttered aloud. “Isn’t that the woman that went missing last week?” Pat didn’t respond but a knowing glint shone in Preston’s eyes and he said, “I may have found a kindred spirit, after all.”
“I did not murder her!” Pat shouted without conviction.
“Where is she, Patrick?” The knife mirrored the look in Preston’s eyes as he moved it closer to Pat’s neck.
Pat remembered bringing Janice to this place but his brain went blank when he tried to remember what happened next. “I…”
“And, who is this?” Preston moved on to another portrait of a similar-looking red-haired woman. The name below her said “Candace Lane”.
“She was…I do not remember.”
