An entire day passes me by after I visit my brother's room. Like a torrential rain, self-deprecating thoughts flood my overburdened mind. They are there at lunch. They are there at dinner. They are there as I fall asleep. These thoughts inundate my dreams with darkness. I suffer nightmare after nightmare

I awake to a new day, but also to the smell of ammonia. My legs feel cold and itchy, and my mattress feels incredibly damp to the touch. I did it again. I wet my bed again.

“Damn it,” I roar, as I look down at the mess that is my life. I need to get over this. I need closure.

I slide my nightstand drawer open and carefully pull out the crumpled paper that I found under Roderick’s covers the day before. I inhale deeply. Here we go. Let’s see what this is.

I unfurl the paper and absorb its contents.

Dear Roddy,

In case I’m not able to pick you up later,

please meet me at 3509 N. Broadcliffe Ave.

in Springfield. My new boyfriend is a game

designer, and he wants to give you a tour

of his studio! Don’t tell your dad,

or that half-brother of yours.

Use my credit card if you need to get a cab.

I’ll try to pick you up if I can.

Love, Mom

The letter is undated, but I can surmise that it was probably written within a week or two of the accident. Roderick’s mom, Meredith, was a bit of a weirdo. She would disappear for months on end without saying goodbye, only to reappear as if nothing had ever happened. She also abhorred technology, so much so that she only communicated through handwritten notes. I’m not even sure that she owned a smartphone.

“I can’t believe that Meredith of all people was dating a video game developer!”

The revelation cracks me up, but it suddenly dawns on me what I have in my possession. I have a potential lead on the final days of my brother and ex-stepmother. I have an address that my brother visited around the time of his death.

Even though I rarely venture outside the house anymore, I know that I have to go to the address on this note. If nothing else, it may hopefully help me find some closure.

I think about my family and my unborn sister as I clean myself up in the shower. I want to be someone that she can look up to. I want my Dad and I to rekindle our sour relationship. I want Annie to be proud of my progress towards recovery. None of these things will happen until I unravel the mystery behind Roderick’s accident. Nobody wants to talk about it. We never even held a funeral for him, my dad was grieving so much at the time. They cremated him, but that is all that I can remember. I certainly never saw his body.

I slip into my favorite pair of slippers and make my way into the kitchen. I am super eager to tell Annie about my discovery.

“Annie, guess what?” I blindly say as I enter the kitchen. There is no response.

I pull open my phone and am greeted with a message from my dad. Annie and him went to her mom’s house for the weekend, leaving me to fend for myself. My screaming must have kept them up late again. Dad probably hit his breaking point and decided to get the heck out of dodge. I can hardly blame him for leaving. If my son were a complete failure of a human being, I would probably want to stay away from him as well.

The desk chair squeaks as I lean back in it and exhale. Without anyone to give me a ride, how am I supposed to get to the address that I found? My wallet and bank accounts are completely empty too, which makes taking a taxi or rideshare out of the question.

I can at least Google the place. I place my phone on the table and open up my GPS. I carefully type the address from Meridith’s note into the search bar and watch as my screen flies to a large rectangular building in the middle of a non-descript industrial park. A window pops up that reads, “Cumberland Interactive Incorporated”. There are no reviews and no real information about the place. I try to find a website or social media page for the company, but there is nothing.

As I am about to give up hope, an online newspaper classified ad catches my eye.

“Looking for video game beta testers. On the spot interviews will be held at 3509 N. Broadmore Avenue. No appointment necessary. Good pay and benefits.”

I scroll down the poorly designed page and scan it closely for a posting date. At the bottom of the page are a bunch of unflattering comments about the posted job.

“Fake, don’t bother! I wasn’t what they were looking for.” One of them reads.

“Super weird and intrusive place. Didn’t look like a video game developer, stay away”. Another message warns.

The earliest comment is dated from 3 years ago, while the newest one is only a month old. There are many more in between.

“Hmmmmm”, I lean back in my chair and try to remember what the heck beta testing is. As I recall, beta testers review and play pre-launch versions of a video game so that developers can make final tweaks to their product before releasing it to the public. At least, this is what Roderick once told me many years ago.

Cumberland Interactive doesn’t even have a website, so it seems weird to think that they are in the pre-release stage of launching a new game – especially considering that they have been looking for beta testers for three years straight.

A lead is a lead though. I have to look into it.

I run up to my room and change into one of my old polo shirts and a nice pair of jeans. I open my dresser drawers and dig out some loose coins and some wadded-up cash. I have just enough change to afford a roundtrip bus fare to Springfield.

I send my dad a text message:

Hope you are having a nice trip. Just to give you a heads up, I’m going to a job interview at Cumberland Interactive in Springfield.

Though the coroner ruled my brother’s death as an accident, I still have to weigh the potential risks of going to a strange company that may be connected to my brother’s final days. After all, the police had initially declared his death a homicide. They wouldn’t have done that without good reason. Texting my dad seems like a good idea.

I feed my pet goldfish, grab my crumpled-up wad of change as well as a small baggie of my meds, and make my way towards the bus stop. The walk to the bus stop is a bit of a hike, but fortunately for me, the buses between Chatham and Springfield are usually on time – and today is no exception. The bus arrives right at the top of the hour. Cumberland Interactive, here I come.

I jam some crinkled money into the farebox and receive my receipt. Sitting back, I watch the scenery go by as the bus makes its way into the heart of the state capital.

We pass by the little league fields and batting center where I spent my summers, religiously practicing my pitching so that I could one day get a baseball scholarship. I had gotten one too, to the University of Illinois. Unfortunately, my crippling anxiety had ruined that career path for me. Playing in front of people no longer gave me joy like it used to. Even being on a half full bus feels unnerving.

Before I realize it, we are downtown. At the transfer center, I make my connection and board another bus to the industrial park on the far side of town. After another 20-minutes spent on a bus that smells like moldy cheeseburgers, I exit at my stop and double check the address of the gaming studio. According to my phone, I am only a couple minutes away.

I walk through the industrial park and dodge semi-trucks along the sidewalk-less road. It's a hot and tiring affair, but I spot my destination and make a beeline towards it.

The gaming studio is large and windowless with no markings or notable features of any kind. In front of it, a jetted pond casts an eerie shadow over an empty parking lot. A single beat-up red sedan is parked at a handicap spot near the entrance, but otherwise there is no sign of life.

I walk across the hot asphalt and approach the front entrance of the building. It consists of little more than a worn-down metallic door and a doorbell. At this moment I want to turn around and go home. I almost do just that. This just doesn’t seem right to me. As I am starting to back up, the door flings open.

“Oh,” a startled woman wearing a bright white lab coat jumps at the sight of me, “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

“Uh, hi,” I look away out of embarrassment, “Um. Sorry, I’m really nervous about this, but I am here because of the ad in the paper.”

Now I really want to run away. This poor woman is working alone in a massive industrial facility and here I am acting creepy and weird outside of it. What if she calls the police on me? How will I ever explain this to my dad?

“A beta tester candidate!” Her voice instantly changes from scared to excited, “I was going to take a smoke break, but that can wait. Come on in.”

She motions me into the building, and I follow. The door shuts behind us with a thud as we walk down a dimly-lit hallway and into a reception room. The linoleum laden room looks like it hasn’t been used in years. A couple of half dead tropical plants and some crusty old magazines are the only signs that it was ever a bustling place.

“Sorry about the state of this facility,” the employee apologizes to me as she types a security code into a pad next to an interior door. “The project that we have been working on hasn’t exactly been going as planned over the past couple years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell her. “Are you the only one who works here?”

“Yes, it’s just me. Everyone else went back to our Maryland office.” She pops the door open with an electronic buzz and motions me to enter.

I’m disappointed. I wanted to talk to my step-mom’s ex-boyfriend. Any ties he may have had to my brother were now lost to me.

“Just through here,” the woman says as we round a corridor and enter into a row of open-air cubicles. “My office is down at the end.”

At the end of the cubicles is another metallic door, and behind it is a simple office with a desk, a computer, and a couple of chairs. I follow her in and sit down on one of the open chairs.

“My name is Dr. Latoya Jackson-Lewis,” she reaches her hand out to me.

Imitating my dad’s firm business handshake, I shake it and then lean back in my chair. I feel good about myself. I am actually holding my own at a job interview. Maybe I am more capable than I think.

Then she bursts my bubble.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” She smiles.

Crap. How embarrassing.

“I’m Derek,” I respond.

“Just Derek?”

“Gray,” I answer, “uh – I mean Derek Gray. My name is Derek Gray.”

She starts to crack up, “Relax Derek, don’t be worried. This is just a simple interview. It will be over in a couple of minutes. I’ll know quickly whether you are the person that we are looking for or not.”

“I know,” I shake my head, “I’m just not used to doing things like this.”

“You’re not alone,” she tries to reassure me, “You should be proud of yourself for coming out here today and making an effort to get a job. Many of the people that I have interviewed over the years could barely even speak to me. You are doing much better than that.”

“Do a lot of people interview here?” I ask her.

“Many,” she nods, “shall we get started?”

“Sure,” I feel a little more reassured after her compliments. I probably come off as a typical gaming nerd to her. I mean, I haven’t worked out in years, and my hair is a shaggy mess. Everything fits. She must think that I spend every waking minute playing video games.

“First of all, you’re probably wondering why we are holding face to face job interviews for a position that you can normally sign up for online. Let’s face it, most beta-testers don’t even get paid for their work. They are just fans of the product.”

I shake my head and try to act like I understand where she is going with this train of thought.

“Our company is developing proprietary hardware that is not currently available to the general public, so at this time, we can only do in house beta testing.”

“I see,” I respond.

“I’m curious about the kinds of titles that you play. Are you an MMO guy? Do you play RPGs? Strategy? Tell me about yourself.”

I never actually thought this far ahead. I desperately try to think of a game or two, but I have never played anything beyond Madd Football and some random mobile games from the app store. Then it comes to me. “Tales of the Imperium,” I say aloud, “my favorite game is Tales of the Imperium.”

“Ah,” a wide grin overtakes her face, “that’s a classic. As it so happens, our current director was the project lead on that game. Only a handful of people have ever played it.”

I sit back in my chair and allow myself to relax. I am managing to fool her, at least for the moment. Thank you, Roderick. That was the only game of his that I had ever bothered to watch him play a little – and then I snapped it in two out of spite. I was a terrible brother. I bet we could have had fun playing that game together, if I had bothered to ask him.

“I am starting to understand why you are here,” her tone suddenly feels murky to me. “You might be just the person that we are looking for. Yes, I think you are perfect.”

A distant thud causes me to lurch out of my seat. “Aren’t you the only one who works here? What is that?”

“It must be the air conditioning kicking on.” She gestures at me to sit back down, but I stand up and start to make a beeline for the door. I can feel my blood pressure rising and can sense that I am about to have a full-fledged panic attack. Something about this building and this woman feels off to me. The change in my mental state is very sudden, but I have good reason to feel uneasy. My interviewer’s demeanor is beginning to change, and not for the better. A crazed look has overtaken her eyes, I need to get out. Every inch of my being is telling me to leave.

“Does the name Meredith Smith mean anything to you?” She asks, “what about Roderick Smith? Is he your cousin? A friend?”

I am floored. How does this woman know their names?

I close the door and sit back down. I want to run. I want to get out of this situation, but I need closure. I need to know more about this woman and her connection to my deceased family.

“How do you know those names?” I ask her. My heart pounds as I await her answer.

A sinister smile stretches across her face, “So you do know them?”

“That’s my half-brother and former stepmother, of course I know them.”

“We searched for the family of Roderick Smith, but we were never able to find anyone,” a loud knock at the door accentuates her comment. “We couldn’t even find his obituary in the paper. Someone spent a great deal of time and money hiding you from us. But if you’ve played Tales of the Imperium, then that definitely confirms that you are related to him. That game only has one copy. It’s his copy.”

“What’s going on?” I stand back up and back myself into a corner like an idiot. “I thought you said that it was only the air conditioner. Who’s knocking?”

“Do you know how long we have been waiting for this day, Mr. Gray?”

The door to the office crashes open and an entire team of men and women wearing hospital scrubs flood into the room. I’m surrounded.

“To think that you have been living under our noses this whole time. It’s amazing.”

“I texted my Dad about this place!” I scream. A woman with a syringe and her two muscular helpers pin me against the wall. “The police will come looking for me!”

“No, they won’t,” the game director laughs like a crazed animal, “they’ll think you had a little accident on the way here. Just like your brother.”

“Stop it!” I push back, but the men grab hold of my arms. “Stop doing this, please! Stop! This isn’t right.” The woman flicks the syringe with her finger and jabs it straight into my right bicep. A searing pain runs up my arm and into every extremity of my body. As she pumps more of the liquid into me, I feel myself growing weaker. I only have one shot to make my escape. I have to go now, before it is too late.

With my strength waning, I try to push my assailants off of me, but I am like a mouse pushing against a boulder. All of my energy and my consciousness is fading away.

“Good work.” Dr. Jackson-Lewis stands over me and smirks as her lackeys strap me into a hospital gurney. “Is it a match?” She asks the woman with the syringe.

“It’s perfect,” I hear her say, as I fade in and out of consciousness. “He has the mutation,” she says followed by a bunch of gargled phrases, “we’ll pair them up immediately. Pull specimen alpha from stasis and get him prepared to go.”

So, this is how my brother died. There was no accident at all. It was Cumberland. They were the culprits.

The indistinct world around me fades to black as Dr. Jackson-Lewis and her minions cart me off to God knows where. My senses dull. My heart’s rhythm slows.

Is this the end of the line for me? Am I dead? I wait in the darkness for my answer.