The Probability of Brotherhood

Nadine Flikkema

Mr. Breaton

EWC4U

Monday, April 20, 2015

The Probability of Brotherhood

Charlie Eppes, professor at CalSci University, and distinguished mathematician, headed home after a long day of teaching. The young man unlocked his car with shaky hands and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His brother, Don, who worked with the FBI, had just called to inform him of two serial killers seen not far from the university. Apparently these killers targeted young men and women, and, given Charlie’s baby-face looks, he was a potential target.

“Don, I’ll be careful. Just relax.” Charlie had told Don.

“Alright, just don’t go down any dark alley ways.” Don said, his voice displaying a large amount of the stress that came with his job.

“Don, it is more statistically probable to get bitten by a shark in Nevada, then it is for me to even find a dark alley way between me and the car. I’ll be home in a half hour.”

Charlie had said all that with a semblance of a joke, but now he was scared. To keep himself occupied from thinking about it, he started going over his next lecture on the Eppes Convergence; a theory he had developed himself. As he sat down in the drivers seat, an arm snaked around his throat and someone let themselves into the passenger seat.

“Drive.” The new passenger said, pulling out a pistol. Charlie went over his options in his head in a second. He could refuse and be shot now, agree and be shot later, or agree and be taken prisoner. Don had always taught Charlie to cooperate and let the FBI find him; this was what Charlie planned to do.

“Alright, where to?” Charlie asked as the arm around his neck pulled away and the barrel of a second gun was placed just behind his right ear. The pounding of the mathematician’s heart resounded in his ears, almost making it impossible to think.

“Just drive. I’ll tell you where to go.” The passenger said cocking his gun. Charlie swallowed hard and drove off, the passenger giving him instructions. After about fifteen minutes of tense driving, Charlie was instructed to turn into an abandoned parking lot near a run-down hotel.

“Get out, don’t make a sound.” Charlie was instructed. The two killers ushered Charlie into an empty room and handcuffed him to the dirty bed frame.

“What do you want?” Charlie asked. He was answered by a smash to his skull and blackness.

He awoke to the sound of gunfire and shouting. A bunch of the voices sounded very familiar. Charlie sat up but was pushed down again by a firm but gentle hand. His hands were free and the person covering him was Don. The other members of the team were firing at the two killers, who were barricaded in the bathroom.

“You alright? Can you walk?” Don asked Charlie over the noise.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Walking may be a different matter.” Charlie answered as nausea and a killer headache assaulted him. Don slung an arm over his shoulders and half carried, half dragged Charlie to the awaiting paramedics.

“What happened?” Don asked.

“They got me in the car. I don’t think they knew who I was.” Charlie answered as an ice pack was placed on his head.

“They knew alright. I got a call about twenty minutes after I hung up with you. We traced it and found out where you were.”

“They’re dead, Charlie. You don’t have to worry.” Agent Megan Reeves said returning from the hotel. Agent Colby Granger and Agent David Sinclair were taking care of the damage. Charlie shoved his shaking hand in his pockets and distracted himself again. This time with Probability Theory and how randomness always has some pattern.

“There’s no true randomness. Eventually there will be a algorithmic pattern.” Charlie said.

“What?” Colby said, raising an eyebrow.

“Just let him talk, it helps him cope with big scares like this.” Don said leading Charlie to his FBI car.

“Even if it is a pattern of patternlessness, it still creates some form of pattern.” Charlie climbed into his brother’s vehicle and rambled on about probability algorithms and the addition of a random variable. Don tuned him out half way through the ride back home.

Just because we graduated the same year does not make him any less my little brother. Don said to himself and resigned himself to just listening to his brother talk, thanking his lucky stars that the criminals in his day to day life didn’t disprove the probability of brotherhood theory by Agent Don Eppes: big brother.