“You are in Company headquarters, Alfred.”
“What company?”
“OIPEP. Do you remember OIPEP?”
“Should I?”
“You should, though you might not wish to.”
“Oh, well, I’d rather not remember anything I don’t wish to. Who’s the big guy standing behind you?”
“His name is Operative Nine.”
“Weird. Why am I lying in this bed? Am I sick?”
“You have suffered . . . an attack.”
“Like a seizure or something like that?”
“Something like that.”
The lady called Abigail Smith smiled. She had very bright teeth. Mom always said you could tell a lot about a person by their teeth.
“Where is my mom?”
The lady glanced at the weird guy she called Operative Nine. “Alfred,” she said. “Your mother passed away four years ago.”
“She did?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’m supposed to know that, right?”
“We’re hoping your memory will return in time.”
“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
The big guy stepped forward and I said, “You’re probably the ugliest man I’ve ever seen in my life. What’s the deal with the long earlobes?”
He didn’t say anything. He just smiled.
“Your teeth aren’t as nice as Dr. OIPEP’s here. Are you both dressed in black because my mom died?”
“Alfred,” he said. “I’m going to say a name to you now and I want you to tell me if you recognize it.”
“Perhaps this is too soon,” Abigail Smith said to him.
He ignored her. He bent very low over my face and whispered, “Alfred, the name is Paimon.”
My arms jerked in their bindings. My fingers clawed at the metal poles of the bed, trying to reach my eyes. My mouth came open but no sound came out: the howl stayed locked inside my head. My gut heaved and I vomited greenish brown puke onto the crisp, white pillowcase.
Abigail Smith sighed. “I told you it was too soon. Get somebody in here to clean this up.”
He left and she was leaning over me, cupping my face in her hands, forcing me to look into her eyes. Her breath was sweet-smelling, like licorice.
“Alfred, Alfred, it’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Stay with me, Alfred—I won’t let you go, I promise. I won’t let you go. Focus on my eyes, Alfred, my eyes. It can’t find you now, do you understand? Do you understand me, Alfred?” I nodded. I slowly relaxed, but the smell of my own puke was getting to me. She let go of my face long enough to grab a towel from somewhere. She lifted my head and wiped the pillowcase clean, then flipped the pillow over, puke side down. Then she lowered my head.
“You’re safe now, Alfred, perfectly safe. It’s not here.”