Zed
The words formed and flowed from his mouth as quickly as Zed could manage. “Kai and I are twin brothers. I went Air Force as a fighter pilot, and he went Army as infantry. Between the two of us, he faced a lot more combat.”
They stopped in front of the elevator. As they waited, Abby nodded attentively to his words. “Keep going,” she said.
“When I came back a few years ago, after my discharge, Kai seemed off. My contract had been a little longer than his, by about a year. By the time I'd come home, he was already settling back into life with his wife, Marilyn, and trying to make a go of it.”
The elevator bell rang, and the two of them entered. Abby shot a look at the two employees who tried to slip on as well , giving them a quick shake of her head. Clearly, she wanted to keep this discussion private.
Zed, for his part, didn't seem to notice. He was too wrapped up in having to tell Kai's story in such a short amount of time. He knew this was important, and that it could be the missing piece in all the efforts he'd already made. If he could convince her between now and the time she got in her car to leave, maybe he could do something to help Kai.
“He had all the symptoms of PTSD, though,” Zed continued, after the elevator door closed behind them, sealing them in. “I could see it, his wife could see it, and even he could see it. He couldn't get to sleep and had night terrors when he could. He was removing himself from life, and he had anxiety in crowds and around loud noises. He still couldn't get the proper treatment through the VA system. Everyone was trying to get appointments back then, and he had to wait nearly a year. So, he went into a private care practitioner, under his wife's insurance, and managed to see someone in order to get a diagnosis.”
The elevator stopped again, just a few floors down, and Zed stumbled to a stop. When the doors opened, Abby shook her head at her employees and hit the “close doors” button again. “Continue, Mr. Hesse. Please,” she said, as the elevator hummed along on its downward trajectory.
Zed searched for the words that would affect her the most. He needed her, after all, to publicly admit the harm her company had caused.
In the end, though, he decided to just tell the whole story. Everything.
“Around that time, he had severe suicidal ideation. Are you familiar with that term?”
Abby nodded. “It's when someone is not just thinking about suicide, but is also planning it out. They consider the best way to do it, how to leave the least mess, and how to avoid putting anyone through torment due to finding the body. I'm familiar.”
Zed nodded, licking his dry lips. “Right. Exactly. You understand, then, why we were happy for him to be seeing the private care physician. Finally, we weren't as worried about Kai just becoming a statistic. But the doctor prescribed your medication, Dimalerax, and things got worse.”
The elevator for the parking garage dinged open, and Abby gave him a glancing look, as if to say, Not much time left, Zed. Hurry things the fuck up. They left the elevator, and Abby unlocked her SUV.
Zed rushed along, his words spilling from his mouth even faster as they walked along through the parking garage to her car. “They told him Pharma-Vitae had said he needed to take it for fourteen days, to see if it would work, before they'd switch him to a different medicine.” He paused and pulled out the pictures of his niece and nephew, brother, and sister-in-law as they got to Abby Winter's big SUV. “On the tenth day, he killed his wife and two children,” he said, as he shoved the photos at her.
She glanced down at the photos, but didn't take them.
“He called 911 after it happened, Ms. Winters, and waited for the cops to get there. He had the gun to his head, but they talked him down, convincing him that the courts would work out everything in the end.”
Abby took a moment to respond. Her face was neutral, as frigid as her last name. “Mr. Hesse …Zed,” Abby said very carefully, her voice cold and unfeeling, “I understand you and your family have undergone a traumatic event, and that it's very common in these situations to attribute the ultimate responsibility to an outside actor. But, the fact of the matter is, these claims are completely unfounded. I can't just take your word on all this, can I?”
Zed's shoulders slumped. She'd seemed so caring and understanding on the TV and when she was dealing with her assistant, before. But this reaction right in front of him—this was just too cold. Could this even be the same woman?
“He's on death row now, Abby. Do you know what it's like to know your identical twin is about to be executed? That a man who walked almost the same path as you through life took a medication that fucked his brain up so badly that he shot his family? That he shot his kids?”
“I can't imagine your turmoil,” she said. “But I just don't feel that Pharma-Vitae was responsible.”
He knew it. Her media persona was a lie.
Zed hadn't wanted to use Plan B, but if she was going to refuse to help him, Plan B was what it was going to have to be.
# # #
Abby
The look on Zed's face, as she had to tell him the truth, was just heart-breaking. She'd never had a bond with anyone in her life, like he’d clearly had with his brother, Kai. It was sad to think that he had been on the outside this whole time, struggling to make sense of what his brother did and to somehow exonerate him. It took all she had to hold that emotion in check, and to keep her cold bitch of a mask in place.
But, as much as it tore at her, she had a responsibility to her shareholders and employees. There was a reason why she'd been selected as CEO, and that was to return value on their investment. It was her job to make sure her employees stayed employed.
The two ideas warred in her mind and in her gut. She knew that, if she didn't get out of there soon, her facade might crack.
“But, even if Pharma-Vitae was partially responsible for your brother's actions,” Abby explained, as politely as she could, without letting her emotions come through, “We'd have to go through proper channels before we could attest to that. While I can appreciate why you would bring this to me, Zed, it won't solve anything. We have policies and procedures in place for this kind of complaint.”
Zed's face went from saddened to neutral. “I just need you to admit there's a problem with the medication when used by PTSD victims—that there's something going on there.”
Abby sighed internally. Externally, she just shook her head. “I'm sorry, Zed, but I can't do that without more proof, and without some sort of instruction from my internal legal team and our researchers. And, if you continue to press the point, I'll have to call security-”
Her words were cut off mid-sentence, though, as the vet's hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. Apparently, she'd given him the wrong answer.
Her mind screamed alarm bells as her breath was cut off. She desperately tried to suck in a breath, but nothing would come. She reached out, grabbed his wrist and tried to pull his hand from her, but he was too strong.
“I'm sorry,” Zed said. “But I need you to get in the car now.”
She swung the keys in her hand, trying to strike at his face, but he just snatched her wrist in mid-air and twisted it off to the side as he pushed her back and around to the passenger side, her feet nearly lifting off the ground.
He reached around behind her and opened the driver side door before releasing her. Before Abby realized what was happening, he had reached inside his suit coat and pulled a pistol—a big, matte-black handgun. “Get in the car,” he said, as he put the gun to her forehead.
Her heart thudded in her chest like a bass drum, and her palms were clammy and covered in cold sweat. “I-I-I-”
“Get in the fucking car!” Zed yelled.
Meekly, Abby got into the driver’s seat and, on reflex, buckled up.
As she looked up at him, she realized how shitty and sad her life had been. Sure, she'd gone to college and gotten her master's degree. She was one of the few female pharma CEO's in the world. But what else did she have? No love life to speak of, no one to share her bed, besides the vibrator she kept in her nightstand. She'd never traveled, unless it was on business. All she did was work talk to people she thought might be able to help her with her career or in her business.
What kind of fucking life was that, anyway?
She'd wanted to be loved by someone—to be held, to be told things were going to be all right, to have someone support her, even if they weren't going to get something out of it at the end of the day, and to be loved by a man who wasn't threatened by her position, or by her strength.
Instead, she didn't even have a dog or a cat. Shit, she could barely even manage to keep her pathetic excuse for a garden alive.
Zed Hesse could murder her, or cut her body into a hundred parts, and the only people who'd notice she was missing were colleagues from work. Could he do that? Could he cut her up into a hundred parts?
Of course he could. Look at what his identical brother had already done. And to his own family!
Still, even as the despair began to take over, she didn't cry. Her nose sniffled a little, and she felt the tears of panic and fear begin to well up in her eyes, but she didn't let them loose. Her mother never would have forgiven her if she had. No. Instead, she looked straight ahead, out the windshield, and awaited whatever fate faced her.
It was because of her staring straight ahead, that she didn't even see the pistol butt coming down on her temple.
Pain just exploded behind her eyes, and the whole world faded to black.