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Constantine turns to me. "The workstations are to the left. That's what Rusty informed us. Follow me."
I take a peek to my left through my goggles. Men and women in pristine white scrubs pack powders into pill capsules. The smell of burning chemicals seeps through my mask, making me gag. I blink hard to prevent the substances from reaching my eyes.
An employee unwrapping a cardboard box shoots us a look over her mask. She tears her eyes away quickly, then focuses on her task. She cuts through the cardboard and pulls out vials of mysterious clear liquid.
Rage simmers in my gut, prompting me to clench my fists. But I force myself to stay in control of my emotions. Constantine and Gianluca have the same reaction. A scowl sits on Constantine's face. It doesn't take a fucking mind reader to know what he's thinking.
These are the people who created Arlo's tainted medication. They slipped drugs into his generic omeprazole and fucked him up. Now, they will pay.Today.
The sound of feet on concrete reaches my ears.
"You," a man in a hazmat suit snaps. He pushes Gianluca back. "Get to your stations. We're not paying you to fuck around."
Rusty turns to Wesley. "That's one of the mean guards. He screams if you don't get to your station by 5:05 AM."
"Yes, sir." Gianluca adjusts his goggles. "We'll do that right away."
Wesley turns to me. "Do we follow him, Daddy?" His voice is so soft, so innocent, it plays at my heartstrings. I tilt his chin up, staring into his eyes through his protective eyewear. I feel his heartbeat pulse. It kills me he's back in this place today.
"Yes, angel." After leaning in, I wipe a speck of dirt from his scrubs as tenderly as I can. "The Antonovs will create the distraction in exactly ten minutes. We’ll work until they arrive."
We follow Gianluca to the workstations, then slip on the blue gloves sitting on the countertop. My eyes travel to the employees unpacking boxes, taking out chemicals, and sliding them into beakers to my left.
From a side door, workers bring containers of unspecified powder to the employees, and the employees funnel the powder into the capsules before sliding them into plastic bottles.
"Do what Daddy does, boy." I place my hand over Wesley's, letting him know I've got him. "Don't be afraid. Follow my lead."
I motion for one worker to bring me a box of chemicals. This is what Rusty told me to do. The worker disappears through the side door, then returns with three boxes on a dolly. He carries them to our station and Gianluca, Constantine, and I heave them onto the stainless-steel counters.
"We appreciate it." Gianluca’s voice is gritty.
The employee says nothing as he ventures back through the door. He brings out more boxes for other employees.
An X-Acto knife sits on the counter in front of me. I pick it up and ram it into the box.
My gut sinks when I pull out the containers. I know what Arlo's meds looked like because Gianluca brought us a bottle after his lab partner Dr. Trina analyzed it.
Arlo picks it up. "This is my old medication." He rolls the capsules around in his hand. "I took this for years for my laryngopharyngeal reflux."
Gianluca removes another bottle from the box. "They shouldn't be packing this in this facility." His eyes turn dark. "These chemicals smell like industrial-grade solvents. They likely infiltrated the medication."
Constantine places his palm on Arlo's back. "I'm so sorry, baby boy." He pulls his boy flush with him. "Daddy apologizes so much. It's not right you took this for so long."
"I couldn't afford a doctor." Arlo turns the bottle over in his hand before he directs his gaze up to Constantine. "For years, I self-medicated with these pills because they were so cheap. I was furious when I discovered they contained sugar and stimulates and barely any omeprazole to help my acid reflux."
"I know, baby boy." Constantine brushes a tear from Arlo's cheek. "You suffered so much."
"I only got better because you and your brothers helped me, Daddy." Arlo sniffles as he stares at the bottle. "These bastards could've destroyed my life. What if they'd slipped fentanyl into these pills instead of sugar?" He peers at the bags Gianluca’s unpacking. "There's no way to test these substances here. Workers likely don't know the difference between them."
"It's time to make them pay." Constantine doesn’t mince words. "No more fucking around."
For the next ten minutes, we unpack the boxes and work. We mix the chemicals on the instructional posters, crack open the bottles, and slide the powder into the pill capsules. We have no way of knowing exactly what we’re putting in these pills, but I pray to God it’s nothing harmful. I'd never forgive myself if they slipped out before the Antonovs caused their distraction and ended up in the wrong hands.
I can't help but study my boy in the warehouse lights as I work. He's exhausted and scared, but he's so damn beautiful. He works diligently, scooping up powder and sliding it into pills. I'm so fucking proud of him, more than he could know.
We're lucky as shit the guards didn't recognize us, because I'd never forgive them if they realized who my boy was and took him from me. They also should've recognized Rusty. But Rusty says that the managers never arrive until 6 AM, and the only people here this early are the guards who don’t verify the workers’ identities. The guards don’t make tons of money, but they get off on bossing everyone in this fucking sweatshop around.
When ten minutes have passed, Constantine slides next to me. "Where are the Antonovs?"
