Bad Water and First Blood

Harmony House: Episode 24

“Harmony House” is a serial novel with episodes released every Tuesday morning. You can read the setup for the story or start from the beginning. Each episode comes with high-quality audio narration for you to enjoy on the go with the Substack mobile app.

Previously…

In the last episode, Schultz established a private “war room” at FutureAbode headquarters for the Jenson brothers and Eve to manage the crisis. He insisted they tell no one what was happening. As a group, they watched the first video the eco-terrorists sent over to be broadcast on the show in which Jessie describes how GreenerTech, Eve’s father’s company, covered up the deaths of an entire village in Tanzania. All the villagers died from using an early prototype of Cliff Baron’s water filtration system— the same one that was later successfully used in Houze. The team gets on a call with the four remaining contestants of Houze and shares everything with them. The contestants agree to play along, pretending that Jessie and Deepu are still in Houze to keep the terrorists from harming their friends.

Jessie was surprised to find Deepu asleep when he was brought back to the room. His body had just shut down, Jessie figured. It was a lot of stress for anyone, but this kid was already swimming with leg weights on. If they were going to survive this, Jessie had to take care of him. That made things easier. Better to focus on someone else. It was a good distraction from the monkeys jumping in his brain.

Based on what he just learned in the last couple of hours, Jessie wasn’t sure how to feel about their captors. Everything about this situation was complicated. They had a mission he could appreciate and if he was reading about this in the news, he might have applauded it. But the gun to his head made it a little hard to do that. These people were dangerous nut-jobs. Well-funded, well-equipped, and meticulous, but nut-jobs, nonetheless. The video production facility they had set up in the room upstairs with the green screen, fans, and film studio-quality lighting was impressive.

Jessie sat down on the bed beside Deepu and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes and attempted to take a series of deep breaths, but it was no use. He could not meditate his way out of this. He replayed everything that had just happened, hoping to make sense of it.

Aside from the presence of the gun, they had treated him like a colleague. He was given a granola bar, a cup of tea, and a folder of research they wanted him to read. It took him nearly an hour to get through all of it. There were photographs, medical records, toxicology reports, and eyewitness accounts describing the deaths in the little village where Cliff Baron’s company had first tested his water filtration system. Could all of it be manufactured? Sure. Anything is possible. But the photographs of the children’s little bodies wasting away. The anguish in their mother’s faces. It felt real enough. Besides, this kind of horror story was just another chapter in the punishing book of progress when American capitalism and science were co-authors of a book set in the third world.

He read their script. Part of him was all too happy to do it. But the tenacious skeptic at his core, stubborn like the needle on a compass, knew it was wrong to be a willing accomplice. The only way he was able to make peace with it was to tell himself that he was only going along until he could learn more about their situation and figure out another way.

He was beginning to develop a little clearer picture of his three captors. Though they continued to wear the masks and to call each other by ridiculous bird names, they were very chatty. The woman they called Owl was young. It was clear she had a kind of daddy complex because of the way her voice shifted subtly from sober and analytical to child-like up-speak whenever she responded to the leader. She was definitely Scandinavian judging by her accent, her icy blue eyes, and her straw-blonde braid. From the way she seemed to bask in the old guy they called Starling’s praise, it was clear her capturing of the hostages had been a trial she passed. Jessie didn’t see it that way. More than likely Starling was keen to put her in harm’s way so he wouldn’t have to take the risk himself. Wasn’t that the de facto definition of leadership?

Starling was tall, and if Jessie had to guess, was in his late fifties. His shoulder-length hair was mostly silver. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were deep as were the ridges on his brow. His leathery skin tone was that of a white man who had spent most of his life outdoors. Of the three, he was the one who had watched Jessie read the materials with the most interest, hoping for a dramatic reaction. Jessie hadn’t given him the satisfaction. When he had finished, he sat the pages down, nodded, and took the last sip of his tea. Jessie could tell that had pissed Starling off by the terse way he had scooped up the pages and smacked down the one-page script they wanted him to read.

The third guy Jessie had heard them call Hawk was the muscle. He was the one who kept the gun trained on Jessie during the entire thing. Hawk was probably mid-thirties and built like an MMA fighter. He had an uncharacteristically high voice with the worst Southern accent. It would have made Jessie smile if he wasn’t at gunpoint and if he didn’t get the unmistakable vibe of latent violence radiating off the man. Jessie had known many versions of this type of man. He was the kind who spent an inordinate amount of time chiseling his body and sharpening the blade of his anger to compensate for being ridiculed as a child.

Alone, each of their captors was nothing to worry about, but together they were dangerous. United in a worthy cause, Jessie sensed they could be deadly. That’s just how it worked with humans.

Deepu was beginning to stir, and Jessie had to decide how much of this information to share. They would have to work together to get out of this, but Jessie knew it would be best to be careful about what he asked of the young man. Deepu opened his eyes and was startled when he saw Jessie.

“Hey, when did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

“What happened? Did they hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that. They gave me some tea and wanted me to read a script on camera.”

“So, what do they want? What are they going to do?”

“That’s still not clear. It’s hard to see an endgame here. Right now, what they really want is a microphone to tell the world about GreenerTech’s crimes.”

Deepu made a face.

“Yeah, I know. They’re delusional. They seem to think some reality TV contestants will suddenly make the world sit up and pay attention. Nobody gives a fuck as long as the shit they ordered shows up on time and there’s no line at the gas station.”

“But what was the message you had to read?” Deepu asked.

Jessie summarized his speech. Deepu nodded and asked a couple of clarifying questions. When Jessie finished, Deepu was silent, lost in thought.

“What? What is it?” Jessie asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking they’re not so dumb. I mean it’s a good marketing strategy. Think about the demographic of people watching this show, man. The message they’re trying to communicate will resonate most with people who already care about their issues. What? You don’t believe me? You should because you’re the most popular one in all the polls.”

“Huh, well that’s just bizarre,” Jessie said. “But that makes even less sense. They’re preaching to the choir.”

“No, that’s the wrong analogy. They’re pouring gasoline on a fire.”

The kid was way smarter than Jessie had given him credit. How did the fact that their captors had a good strategy change their predicament? There was no way to know yet. Jessie was about to respond when they heard someone at the door flipping the deadbolts.

The door swung open and the woman appeared holding a tray of food. She stepped into the room and was followed by the muscle who had a gun trained on them.

“We brought you some dinner,” she said, setting the tray down on the floor. “It’s vegetarian.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Deepu said.

“You too shy to use the bucket?” the muscle they called Hawk said, trying very hard to make his voice sound low and threatening.

“Maybe we just don’t want to shit where we eat,” Jessie responded, leveling his gaze.

“You got this one?” Hawk asked the woman. He pointed the gun to indicate Jessie.

“Yes, we’ll be fine,” she said.

Deepu stood and left with the man. Jessie leaned back against the wall and narrowed his eyes at the woman.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” she said. She reached behind her back and pulled a pistol from her waistband. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Guess I’m not used to dining at gunpoint,” he said. “It’s my first time being a hostage. So far, I give it one star.”

“You’re funny,” she said. “Do what we ask you to do, and this will all be over soon.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of death,” she said. “Thought you were too tough or too sad or whatever.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about me. I’ve had a good run.” Jessie reached for a triangle of pita bread and scooped some hummus. “Why are you mixed up in this?”

“We’re all mixed up in this,” she said. “You know that. We’re just the ones trying to ring the alarm to wake everyone else up.”

“You can’t think it will make any difference though,” Jessie said before taking a bite.

“So, it’s better to just be cynical and do nothing like you?” she said. “I know you. I studied you. For all your talk, you don’t really do anything.”

“With all the evidence you have, why not just do what most sane people would do and submit it to all the major news outlets?”

“You mean the ones the Baron family doesn’t own or have in their hip pocket? That doesn’t leave many…”

There was a loud crash in one of the other rooms followed by shouting. “GET THE FUCK UP, NOW!”

The woman spun around to look out in the hallway. In a movie, this is where Jessie would use the distraction to lunge and disarm her. He could see the whole thing as clearly as he knew it would not happen. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Hey,” she shouted. “Everything okay?”

There was no response, but Jessie could hear movement in the hallway. A moment later Deepu was shoved into the room hunched over and gasping for breath. There was a gash above his eye and blood was flowing down his face.

“What the fuck,” she hissed.

“He tried to make a move,” Hawk said, his voice excited and pitched even higher.

“What!? I was trying to…” Deepu tried to speak between gasping for air.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hawk said and turned to the woman. “Let’s go.”

After they closed the door, Jessie could hear the woman ask what had happened. As they retreated down the hallway, he could just make out the guy’s response.

“This isn’t fucking summer camp, Freja. If we don’t rough them up some, they’re going to forget and try something…”

Jessie used the paper towels from the tray to dab the blood from Deepu’s face.

“Here, hold this to stop the bleeding,” Jessie said. “What happened?”

Deepu didn’t answer. He was hurt. Jessie couldn’t determine how badly, but the kid was pale. He was in shock. He’d never been hit before. Jessie gave him a few minutes to catch his breath. Finally, Deepu’s eyes focused again, and his breathing normalized.

“Nothing, I didn’t do a goddamned thing. I pissed and zipped up my fly. When I turned around, he hit me with the gun and punched me in the gut.”

“Here, have some water. I’m sorry, man. We’re going to get out of this. I promise.”

Jessie didn’t believe this but it’s what the kid needed to hear. This would not end like it did in movies. People were stupid and in high-pressure situations, they were unpredictable. The clock was ticking and the strategy to survive, if there was one wouldn’t be to let it run out.

“I can’t stay,” Jayden said. “I can’t just play along like they’re not in danger. I’d rather leave and go try to help.”

“What are you going to be able to do?” Cam asked.

Jayden had no good answer. What could she do? She was a big, soft nanny who had never seen anything beyond her burrow. She was sitting at the dining table with her three remaining housemates. They had just watched Jessie’s coerced speech. His voice was even, but his eyes looked scared. She knew he wasn’t as tough as he pretended to be.

“We can do more to help if we stay here and play along,” Riley said. “With less of us here, it will be harder to make the show look like it’s still going. It will draw more attention to Jessie and Deepu.”

“But we can’t just play forever,” Fran said. “That’s not how these games work.”

The others nodded in agreement. There was no clear path forward. They were not in control. After a moment, Riley spoke.

“We’ve got to take this one hour at a time. We have to be careful. We can’t let on that they’re not here. We need to talk about them like they’re just out of frame when we shoot our content. It’s got to be believable, otherwise these crazy people will do something terrible.”

“Well, they’re writing is going to have to improve,” Cam said. “How the hell are we supposed to just pretend that Jessie and Deepu are acting normal?”

“We don’t,” Fran said, standing up and walking to the window. “That wouldn’t be normal. We have to act like Jessie’s not just the crusty, leftist hard ass we’ve come to rely on. He’s now a full-blown conspiracy theorist.”

“Is that what you really think?” Jayden asked, turning in her chair to face Fran. “You believe the story about the village in Africa is not true.”

“Oh, come on,” Fran said. “You think it is true? These people are terrorists. You’re just going to believe anything they say?”

“Why would they make up something like that?” Riley said.

“I can think of a few billion reasons.” Fran was getting more agitated. “Follow the money!”

“What does that even mean in this context?” Riley said. “How exactly do these eco-terrorists see this as a money-making proposition?”

“They don’t. They just hate business. They hate anyone who makes money. Their agenda is to create chaos and make our economy collapse.”

“Fran, do you ever listen to the words that come out of your mouth?” Cam said. “If these people wanted to drive a stake into the heart of capitalism, don’t you think they would pick a better target than a crunchy company like FutureAbode who gives twenty percent of their profits to fight climate change?”

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” she said. “They’re anarchists.”

“You can’t just call anyone an anarchist who does something you don’t understand or agree with,” Riley said. He was getting more agitated than Jayden had ever seen. “People like you can’t accept that two things can be true at the same time. Maybe Baron’s water filter did kill an entire village in Africa, AND he was trying to do something good for all of humanity. Maybe these terrorists are violent AND they have a reason to try to blow things up. Have you watched the news? You know Miami is going to be underwater in a couple of years. You love Miami, right? There’s lots of big conservative people there you admire, sitting in their luxury condominiums watching real housewives on TV.”

Everyone was silent after Riley ended his monolog. He wiped some spittle from his lip. Fran continued to stare out the window. Jayden could see the muscles in Fran’s jaw working on all the things she would not let herself say. Finally, Cam, ever the self-appointed clown, broke the tension.

“Well, that was a missed content opportunity. I wish we had that on tape. Sweetie, I think you need to run for office.”

He patted Riley on the shoulder and Riley shrugged him off. Jayden was sick of all of them. She was tired of Cam’s smart-ass attitude. She was tired of Fran’s medieval politics, and she was tired of Riley’s need to point out how stupid the rest of them were. She wanted to be out. She didn’t care about the game anymore. How could they sit here and talk politics when Jessie and Deepu had a gun to their heads? Was she the only one who cared? No one was going to help them. The police were not involved. What was to stop these crazy people from killing Jessie? Jessie, who had suffered the loss of a child. Jessie who had saved them all two days ago. He deserved to have someone fight for him.

Jayden’s face was burning. She shoved herself away from the table causing her mug to tip over and spill the remains of her tea. She stood, walked over to the door, pushed the button to open it, and walked outside. The door whooshed closed behind her and she was alone under the stars. It was cold, but it felt good, bracing, so she kept walking out into the field. When seasons changed in the city, it went from sunny and hot to dark and cold like someone flipped a switch. Here it was different, more gradual, more dramatic. She hadn’t expected to love being so close to nature. Watching it change from inside their little terrarium had given her a safe way to observe and develop an appreciation. Or maybe it was Jessie’s influence. He loved it so much and her feelings for him gave her a window into nature she had never had before.

“What are you doing, foolish girl?” she said to no one.

For a second, she worried about the fifteen-minute limit but what did it matter now? The rules of the game had changed. After walking for a few minutes, she turned to look back at Houze. The little metal box lit from the inside looked absurd here. It didn’t belong. The shape of it was all wrong. There was nothing in the landscape with such hard edges. Again, she thought of the city where she’d spent her life. It was all hard edges, concrete, and steel. The occasional tree is what looked out of place. Standing here in the field, she was beginning to realize this was the true perspective. They were the visitors here on the planet. They were the foreign invaders. They were the ones ruining everything. How could she not have seen it before?

Hearing Jessie tell the story about those kids dying was hard. Hard to imagine their poor parents helpless to do anything as they were fighting for their lives. No one else watching knew the deeper reason for the tears in Jessie’s eyes, but she did. She turned away from the glowing box and hugged herself. Suddenly her phone started vibrating and chiming. She pulled it from her pocket. There was a sixty-second timer counting down below a message:

You have less than thirty seconds to begin your live broadcast.

Jayden sighed. She hated this part the most. She hated everything about it. She hated having to dance like a monkey on cue. She hated having to see herself on camera. She hated having to try to be interesting, to be likable. She’d spent her life trying to be likable.

She let out a groan of exasperation, then tapped the record button and held the phone up, squinting at the bright screen and the horror of her big round face. She let her face relax. She stopped looking at her face and instead looked past the screen and at the horizon line of the open field. She looked beyond that to the silhouette of the mountains that framed the azure sky that gave way to blackness interrupted by a field of stars. She breathed in and out. She began to walk, taking her time. After a few paces, she began to talk, not knowing exactly what she meant to say.

“All those people. Those babies and their mothers. They were just living their lives, same as me, same as you. They didn’t ask for help. They didn’t want to be part of some science experiment. How come Mr. Baron with all his smarts and his big talk to make the world a better place didn’t test his water machine on his own people? We all know why. It is the oldest story there is. It makes me sick if even half of what Jessie said is true. I hope it makes you sick too.”

When Jayden focused back on the screen, she noticed there were tears on her cheeks. She also saw something different in the face staring back at her. She liked it. It was the face of the girl she used to be. She took another deep breath.

“I used to love to watch these games. Now I’m on one of these games and I think it’s ridiculous. Everything is on fire and it’s been on fire and we’ve just been watching games. I don’t know anything. I’m just a nanny from Queens but I know games won’t save us. Okay, that’s all I’ve got to say tonight.”

As she was going to hit the stop button, she thought of Jessie. She reversed the camera and focused it on the mountains in front of her. She sat down and kept the phone steady. She let it record until it shut itself off. When it did, she stood and walked slowly back to Houze.

She would not be playing anymore.

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Who’s Who in Harmony House?

Having trouble keeping track of who’s who from one week to the next? It’s tough when you only get to visit once a week. I made a little cheat sheet just for you: