Severance Package

The scream reminded him of that morning.

“Sit down, Jamie,” David said.

“I don’t think we’re safe up here,” Jamie said. Only later, as he thought back over the events of the morning, would he understand that he was momentarily gifted with some kind of precognitive blast. A small part of his brain knew what the other parts would slowly come to experience: We’re not safe up here.

“Sit down now,” David commanded.

Amazingly, Jamie found himself sitting back down. What had he planned on doing, anyway? Check the windows for burning skyscrapers?

David cleared his throat, staring at a bag of Geneva cookies that was closest to him.

“I’d hoped to have more time to explain, to set your souls at ease a bit, but I guess that’s not to be.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Jamie could swear David’s hand was shaking.

“Truth is, I’ve failed you.”

Nobody said a word.

Nobody even reached for a cookie.

This is bad, Jamie thought. He wondered if his most recent resume was stored on his computer at work, or at home. He just hoped there was some kind of severance package to see them through a few months of job hunting.

“Most of you know the truth about our company,” David said, “but for the two of you who don’t, I apologize for the shock you’re about to receive.”

Someone gasped. Jamie didn’t see who.

“We’re a front company for CI-6, which is a government intelligence agency,” David said. “We are being shut down.”

Jamie found himself locking eyes with Stuart. We are what?

Stuart didn’t look a bit surprised.

“You should be doing to me what I’m about to do to you,” David continued.

“Oh, no.” Roxanne gulped. “You’re going to fire us.”

David gave her a tight-lipped smile, then a shake of his head. “No, Roxanne, I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to kill you. You, and everyone else in this room. Then I’m going to kill myself.”

“David,” Amy said.

“Molly? The box, please.”

It was there in front of Molly—all of a sudden, it seemed. Jamie hadn’t noticed it before. He’d had his eyes on the cookies. Like everyone else.

Molly opened the box, which was a plain white cardboard mailing box. She parted some Bubble Wrap, and lifted out a gun. With something bulky around the barrel.

David put his hand out.

Molly was shaking. Hesitating a moment before she handed over the weapon to her boss.

But she did, like a good employee. Then she bowed her head slightly.

David pointed the gun in the general direction of his employees. With a minor flick of the wrist, the barrel could be pointed directly at any of them. Jamie felt his forehead break out into a sweat. He wasn’t sure he was actually seeing any of this, but of course, he was seeing it. Because it was real.

Unfolding in front of his eyes.

“What I want you to do,” David said, “is mix a little champagne and orange juice together. Each contain a chemical that, when combined, is an extremely effective poison. It is also completely painless. You will lose consciousness within seconds, and that will be it.”

“David, stop this,” Amy said. “This isn’t funny at all.”

“I tried it myself a few nights ago. A very micro dose. It’s totally relaxing. I’ve never had a better night’s sleep.”

Stuart was still trying to play the good soldier. “You want us to have a drink with you, boss? We’ll drink with you.”

David ignored him. “If you choose not to have a drink, then I’ll be forced to shoot you in the head. I cannot guarantee that this second method will be pain-free. You may require a second bullet. It may be worse if you all decide to do something foolish like rush me. Make no mistake. If you do, all of you will be shot. My marksmanship is excellent. Any of you familiar with my operational background will know this to be true.”

Part of Jamie wanted to believe this was a charade, or a movie, or a bad dream, but all his senses relayed the truth: This was real. He also had the feeling that he was really the only one taking David seriously. Everyone else at the table looked like they were still waiting for the punch line, the moral. But Jamie realized: His boss wasn’t telling a joke or a parable. He was offering them a choice.

Drink poison champagne and die.

Or get shot in the head.

Jamie believed it as much as he believed he was sitting in that conference room chair. As much as he believed that outside the sweeping conference room windows, Philadelphia stewed in the humid air of early morning.

“You’re insane,” Jamie said.

David looked at him with pity. “I didn’t want to invite you in this morning, Jamie. Swear to God I didn’t. You’re our press guy. I even said to them, Why the press guy? You’re too good a press guy. You approached your job with zeal. But alas, you looked at some things you shouldn’t have seen.”

“What are you talking about? What things?”

“Your wife and newborn son will believe you died in an office fire,” David said. “They will be taken care of.”

“David, please,” Amy said. “What are you doing? Does anybody else know you’re doing this?”

“Yeah this is so not funny.”

“I’m going to find Ethan.”

The shuffling of chairs.

The nervous exhalation of air.

“I’m going with you.”

“SIT.”

David, commanding.

It worked.

Everyone froze.

“I’ve given you all a dignified way out,” he said. “I suggest you take it.”

No one said anything until Stuart, looking around with a goofy smile on his face, stood up.

“You got it, boss.”

Stuart knew what this was.

At a previous job—a few years before he was recruited to work here—the HR department decided it was worth the money to send some of the sales associates on an Outward Bound trip. Three days in the woods, learning to tie knots and trust each other.

The penultimate activity: backwards free fall. Go ahead, let yourself tilt back. Free yourself from doubt and worry. Your coworkers will catch you.

Stuart did it, but as he was falling, all he could think about were the times at the Applebee’s, when he would try to make conversational inroads, but everyone would look at him like he had a gushing head wound and they didn’t want to get blood on their suits. But he allowed himself to drop backwards anyway, allowed himself to trust.

As the Outward Bound leader—a gruff guy who looked like Oliver Stone—had promised, his coworkers had indeed caught him. When he looked up, Stuart saw that nobody was looking down at him, the human being in their hands. Still, no matter; they had caught him. Stuart received a certificate and a small pin, and he noted the achievement on his resume.