Page 104 of Dead Mountain

Corrie fought to keep the whirling sensation from coming back. “What . . . ,” she stammered. “What was the drug you gave them?”

At this, DeGregorio looked alarmed. “What . . . Does the FBI know about that?”

Corrie didn’t answer.

He slapped her, hard. “Talk to me, bitch.”

“Tell me what the drug was,” said Corrie, “and I’ll answer some questions.”

He looked at her. “So that’s how it’s going to be?” He suddenly grinned. “Why not?”

With that statement, Corrie understood clearly that they both were going to be killed.

Meanwhile, DeGregorio pulled up a seat and sat down beside her. “I was working on a new antidepressant—not an SSRI, but a completely new drug, based on the venom of the desert toad, Bufo alvarius. I synthesized a version of it that seemed to work fine on lab rats. I tested it on myself multiple times, and there were no side effects, except for tachyphylaxis—‘diminishing returns’ to you unanointed. It had incredible potential. Almost a third of the population is resistant to all antidepressants—including myself. I needed to test it for possible side effects on a larger sample, and I didn’t have a few hundred million bucks for clinical trials. So I joined that expedition at the last minute and decided to test it on them. It was exactly the controlled, experimental setup required: isolated subjects, with no way to interact with the outside world. I knew Lynn and Mike had issues with depression; most graduate students do. I had tweaked the formulation to counteract the tachyphylaxis. Amazing how such a tiny change could trigger such alarming results. You know, the human mind is a great deal closer to the brink of madness than you ever imagined. They all suffered far worse negative effects—bad trips, as it were—from the new formulation than I’d expected. Paranoia, panic, hallucinations—even psychosis.” He paused, shaking his head. “Even so, if it hadn’t been for that bomb drop, and Cheape arriving in a clown suit, nothing bad would have happened. Nobody would have died. It was the fault of that clumsy bastard, Cheape, bursting into the tent like that, yelling at them to leave. They were so high, so freaked out, he must have looked like an alien in his radiation gear—he could have stayed mum and they still would have run, cutting their way out of the tent and running away practically in their birthday suits.”

“But you weren’t ‘freaked out.’ You realized what had really happened.”

“He wanted to apprehend me and bring me in. I was forced to explain to the dumb shit that, when the brass learned he’d blundered into the tent and sent everyone scattering to their deaths, it would look as bad for him as it did for me.”

“And so you killed him.”

DeGregorio scoffed. “Years passed. I got rich. When Gordy and Paul were found, Cheape had the bright idea he could shake me down after all this time. It was his fault that they ran. And the military—I didn’t ask them to drop a bomb in our laps.”

“His fault? The military’s fault? You were using your friends as guinea pigs!”

He leaned in. “Let me tell you something. The company I founded developed that drug into Impremazol. It’s the most effective antidepressant ever formulated. It’s helped millions of people.”

Corrie was amazed to hear a surge of pride in his voice.

He gently screwed the muzzle back into her ear. “I’m sorry for what happened to them, I truly am, but it wasn’t my fault. Enough useless chatter. Where’s the camera?”

At this, Corrie heard a muffled sound and saw that Nora was struggling, trying to talk.

“Take the gag off that bitch.” From the angry tone, Corrie sensed Nora had already pissed him off somehow.

One of the men tore off the duct tape. Nora gasped and took a couple of deep breaths. “She doesn’t know where the camera is. I do.”

“Fine. Where?”

“I hid it someplace.”

He stared at her. “You hid it?”

“The camera contains proof you were on the expedition. If it ever comes to light, you’re fucked.”

DeGregorio ground the muzzle of the gun into Corrie’s ear. “Well, it just so happens I’ve got a simple solution to that. Tell me where it is, or I’ll blow your girlfriend’s brains all over the wall.”

“She’s no girlfriend of mine. But that doesn’t matter—if you kill her, I’ll never tell and you’ll have to kill me, too.”

“Okay, fine. Tell me where it is, and I’ll let you walk. Both of you.”

“You’re going to kill us anyway,” Corrie said. “We know that. Which means you’ve got no leverage.”

She felt the barrel of the gun move from her ear to her knee.

“I’ve got as many bullets as she has joints,” DeGregorio said, still looking at Nora.

“Wait,” said Nora. “Look, before you—”

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