by Francis Tint
“Corey, he’s getting away,” Blake spoke urgently.
“Guys, I’m having trouble grounding myself,” exclaimed Rachael, her hands held tightly onto the table.
“It’s probably just the booze talking,” Julia explained. “Here, give me your hand.”
Rachael released one of her hands from the table and reached out to Julia. She missed. It’s as if Julia’s hand descended.
“I’m a little buzzed, but am I seeing this right?” Julia asked, pointing at Rachael’s feet. “Why is Rachael levitating?”
Tylor looked at the mint-leaf-water Rachael had put down on the table and lamented, “So close.”
“Help!” Rachael screamed. Her body had entirely defied the law of gravity. “Am I dreaming? Why am I flying?” Her hand was the only thing preventing her from drifting away like a helium balloon.
She was slowly slipping away from the table. “I can’t hold on much longer!” Her hand was getting sweatier, making it even harder to hold onto the table. Her fingers were turning red from the pressure. Her hand kept sliding off.
She lost her grip.
“Hold onto me,” Tylor reflexively grabbed onto Rachael, but struggled to maintain grip. There was a mysterious upward force pulling Rachael away. Her hand became more and more slippery to grip onto. “Don’t let go!”
“I can’t help it,” Rachael yelled. “Everything’s feeling so immaterial.”
She lost hold of Tylor.
Blake threw a decorative rope upwards at their floating friend. Rachael held tight onto the rope, dragging Blake away from the crowd. The rest quickly grabbed onto Blake, looking up at the poor girl as if they were flying a kite.
“Where’s your solution?” Tylor urged.
“I got it right here, but what’s the use? She’s all the way up there!” Julia responded.
“How are we going to get her down?” Blake asked. “Corey, do something!”
At her command, he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. He tuned out all the ambient noise and listened carefully to the wind. A whirlwind started to form around the group.
“What’s going on?” Tylor cried. “Why is it getting more windy? Worst timing for a storm!”
But it wasn’t getting more windy. The tornado was not blowing outwards. It was as if a suction magically appeared, vacuuming the group about its center, pulling Rachael down from the sky.
“Are you doing this?” Blake asked Corey, with hair glowing a soft ivory yellow. Her question was not met with a response.
When Rachael’s feet touched the ground, Julia quickly uncapped her solution and gave it to Rachael. “Every single drop.”
Rachael slowly became more grounded and the storm retreated. “Can someone explain to me what just happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Tylor answered.
Blake looked around and was hoping for Corey to elaborate more. “Where did Corey go?”
Julia pointed at the door behind the bar, “There!”
He must have decided to chase after the man with scruffy facial hair. Without explanation, Blake left the group and ran after Corey.
“Did you find him?” Blake asked, catching her breath.
“I cornered him here. There’s no way in or out. He won’t get away this time,” Corey said assertively.
They stared into a dimly lit dead-end aisleway. The deafening silence was punctuated by the occasional drops of water leaking from sewer drains. The suspense was intensified with the flickering lights.
Under the amber illumination, a hooded figure materialized and approached their direction, arousing the duo. They stood guard, ready for a fight. The mysterious figure removed the hood and revealed a gentle feminine face underneath. She made quick eye contact with the alert pair, smiled and walked away.
“Where did he go?” Blake inquired. “I don’t think there’s anyone hiding in there.”
“There’s no way in or out. Where did the woman come from?” Corey turned his head and caught the strange woman’s attention. She turned around, and the gentle expression flickered away, replaced by a scaly face. The face then underwent multiple transformations. For a brief second, the barkeep with the scruffy facial hair peaked through.
“That’s him! How is he doing that?”
“Shapeshifter,” Corey explained, with a small digital device in hand, “but this weakens his powers.”
Smack! The shapeshifter flicked his leg up and kicked Corey right in the face. He elbowed Blake and knocked her down to the floor. He tried to run away. Corey quickly grabbed his leg and tripped him. “You’re not getting away this easy.”
“I’m hoping you’d say that. Been waiting to kick your ass,” a hoarse, cacophonous voice projected from the shapeshifter. He bounced back up and tackled Corey on the floor, locking him with a choke. With all his strength, Corey flipped his opponent over and struck him hard to the pavement.
Corey stood up and approached Blake, hoping to help her up. Woosh! The shapeshifter aimed a pocketknife at a net above, releasing it right over Corey. He could not break free, trapped like a sitting duck. Blake, still on the floor, sat up and slowly nudged herself away from the assailant as he approached her with a menacing laugh. “Not so fierce now, huh?”
Corey shut his eyes and concentrated. The street lights along the alley started to flicker. The same flickering Blake had seen in her dream with the young girl in the lab. With his hair glowing bright ivory, Corey let out a loud roar. The light intensified and sent electric pulses to the assailant. The blow hit the shapeshifter hard, knocking him down to the rough surface.
Blake looked at the fallen foe with fear. “He looks unconscious. Is it over?” she asked Corey.
“Quick, help me out,” Corey requested.
Before Blake reached him, the shapeshifter stood up and chuckled maliciously. “We know all about your powers, Corey. That’s why I came prepared,” he declared, pointing at his rubber suit. “Got any more tricks up your sleeve?” He resumed his mischievous advance toward his female victim.
Blake looked into the soulless eyes on the scaly face. All she saw was pure hatred and malice. She continued to nudge backward, scraping her elbows. She pressed her back against the rough wall. Corey was still trapped under the net, and she was powerless against her assailant. She swallowed in fear. Was this the end?
Blake reached into her pocket, realizing that she indeed had one more trick. One last weapon. As the shapeshifter leaped onto her, she threw a vial of the deep blue solution of cryogenic protein toward the aggressor.
He turned into ice, fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.
CHAPTER THREE
Unexpected Variable
She stepped into an abandoned hallway, down the stairs from one of the forgotten labs packed with antiquated equipment. Unused and broken lockers decorated the walls. Half of the lights were gone and the air was filled with a musty odor. She reached the end of the hallway and stood before a flat door panel. There was nothing special about the door, except for the fact that it lacked a doorknob or keyhole or any means that would allow anyone to open it.
There was a surveillance camera covered with cobwebs on the top right corner. It looked unused, possibly dysfunctional. She looked into the camera. A moment passed and a red light at the camera started flashing, ticking like a bomb timer counting down. Unceremoniously, the light turned green, and a keyhole materialized on the door panel.
She reached in her pocket and produced a skeleton key. She inserted it in the keyhole and turned it to the right. The door came to life and slid to the left, revealing an unornamented room. The ceiling lamp hung above an old-fashioned desktop computer installed on a small desk. She took her seat in the only chair in the room.
She placed her hand over a metallic plate on the desk. Another security measure. In a few seconds, the computer booted up, displaying a series of unintelligible codes on the monitor. A few more pages scrolled passed before the screen cleared, pending user input. She proceeded to t
ype:
Subject slowly regaining abilities. Awaiting instructions.
She sent the message, which quickly disappeared from the display. Just a few drops in the coffee had done the trick, enough to make the subject form connections to isotopic anomalies. She stared at the blank screen, tapping her fingers on the desk impatiently. A response arrived.
Remove the unexpected variable. Frame Corey.
A safe by one of the walls opened slowly. She grabbed a few vials of translucent glowing liquid and left the room.
Blake sat down with her usual caffeinated beverage of choice, a double-shot latte with almond milk. Her friends joined her at the canteen. She picked up the white condiment from the middle of the table and started to sprinkle some in her coffee.
“Why are you salting your coffee?” asked Julia inquisitively.
“Here’s the sugar,” Tylor passed it to Blake. “Should we talk about it? Only if you want to.”
Blake sighed. So much had happened. She could no longer deny the validity of these pseudoscience events. All she had wanted was a normal corporate life, steadily building her career. Heck, she had even pictured herself moving to the suburbs and raising two-point-five kids.
Could she blame anyone? She should’ve just minded her own business. Why had she insisted on investigating Ellen’s death? Perhaps then, none of this would have happened. But because of her curiosity, she had ended up taking a life. She had become a killer.
“He just shattered. His life force dissipated, all because of me,” Blake responded.
“He’s a killer,” Tylor said. “You were just defending yourself. You probably prevented multiple other deaths in the future.”
“That still doesn’t change the fact that I killed a living person.”
“Aw, sweetie,” said Julia, giving her a hug, “we’re all in this together. You’re not on your own.”
“Any crazy murderer who shows up in the future,” Tylor joined in, “we’ll battle them together as a team.”
“Thank you, guys.” Knowing that her friends would always be by her side did a great deal to boost her wellbeing. She should come clean to her friends about the visions and the shimmering tremor she’d been seeing, but she didn’t want to involve her friends further in this mess.
Rachael dropped by with a delicious cup of caffè mocha and a box of scrumptious brownies. “Please have some. I can’t thank you guys enough for saving my life. I’m still not sure if I fully understand what happened. Probably still having difficulty accepting it.”
“You’re not alone, girl,” Julia agreed.
“These do look delicious,” said Tylor, “but if you don’t mind me asking…”
“They’re home baked.”
“Just checking. Won’t want any impromptu circus show.”
“We shouldn’t need to worry. Didn’t you guys say I’m back to normal because of the nanorobots? I feel like a superhero.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, girl,” Julia interrupted, biting down on a piece of brownie. “They’re probably out of your system by now.”
“Hm… well I guess I will just rely on my human superpower to save the day then. Look at what I got here. I found some information about the mystery bartender.”
“Where did you find the time to do all these?”
“Had trouble sleeping. Levitating does that to you. Also, someone just tried to kill me. I need to find out more.” Rachael pulled out a few of her printed notes. “We don’t have a photo of him, so we couldn’t do facial recognition. The fact that he used multiple aliases doesn't really help. But there’s at least one identity we know he used.”
“Ken Afema, from the restaurant,” Blake said.
“Exactly. I was able to hack into the restaurant HR system. Small businesses really don’t spend enough money on data security. I was able to track down some emergency contacts.”
“I’m surprised it’s not fake,” Tylor commented.
“The reason the info’s legit is because Ken fainted one day at the restaurant, and the owner needed to reach out to his mom, Karen Bates.”
“What did you find out about this Karen Bates?” Julia asked.
“Nothing interesting. Married with a kid, now widowed and retired. And I got a home address.”
“I guess we got ourselves an excursion for lunch.”
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Tylor asked the group in front of a dilapidated apartment building. “Is it legal for pharma companies to conduct door-to-door sales?”
“Just relax. Don’t overthink this. I thought you’d be a pro conman by now,” Julia responded. “We’ll leave the details generic. Plus, we have a pro customer service rep with us.”
The group stood before a rusted gate. Tylor gave it a gentle tap. The gate swung freely open, serving no security purpose to the apartment. “That was easy.” Following his lead, the group climbed the crumbling stairs, littered with used needles and shattered beer bottles.
They arrived at their destination, and Rachael got into position. After a few knocks, an elderly resident responded. “Hi, you must be Mrs. Bates,” Rachael greeted. “We’re from Ashlea Edwards. We want to reach out to our community and talk about long-term healthcare.”
“What? Who are you?” the aged lady responded sluggishly. “Are you here to deliver milk?”
“No, Mrs. Bates,” Rachael said patiently. She repeated her opening line, enunciating each word.
“So you are not here to deliver mail,” she replied incoherently.
“No, ma’am, we are from the pharmaceutical company,” Rachael articulated, “Ash…”
“Oh, the drug company. Yes, yes, yes, come on in. I’ve been calling you folks and the stupid computer on the phone couldn’t understand a word I’m saying. I keep telling people, face-to-face conversation is the way to go. For centuries, civilization is built on human communication, not with robots or whatever intelligence,” she rambled on. “You folks, you guys are doing the right thing, talking to people.”
“Such a lovely place you got here, Mrs. Bates,” Julia lied. “Do you live by yourself?”
Her expression froze as she stared intently at Julia, processing her statement. “Do you want some snacks to nibble on?”
This was a real test of patience. Julia reiterated calmly, “Do you live here alone?”
“Oh, no, no, no, no. My boy lives with me. He moved back here to take care of me. How do you guys not know that? You guys should know my son lives here. It should be in your system. He’s the reason I called.”
“Sorry, ma’am, what’s your son’s name?” Tylor asked starkly.
She turned her head toward Tylor with the same confused expression. Before she opened her mouth to reveal her interpretation of the question, Tylor repeated concisely, “Name. Your son’s name.”
She paused and squinted, then proceeded with a short response. “Kevin. Kevin Bates. It should be in your fancy system,” the old lady castigated.
Thinking on his feet, Tylor said, “The computer system is not working. That’s why we’re here to verify some data.”
“Huh?” she asked confusedly. “Do you know where my son is? Do you know where Kevin is? Are you saying you lost my son? He’s been on a long-term clinical trial with you guys for five years. You’re saying you don’t know where he is?”
“No, we haven’t lost him,” Julia jumped in. “We just want to verify some information with our clients,” she added, speaking in a slow and calm tone. “What clinical program is your son on?”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, my son’s program,” she responded, surprising the group with her quick comprehension of the question. She mumbled to herself, “Hm… what’s the name of the program? It’s some fancy name, just at the tip of my tongue.” As if a light bulb went off, she announced, “Oh, oh, oh, it’s Capacify. The Capacify program.”
“Have you heard of that program before?” Tylor whispered.
“Nope. I’m not even aware we conduct long-term trials at the company,” Bl
ake responded.
“That’s very helpful. This will help restore our system so much faster,” Julia said.
“Is that it? Are you going to tell me where Kevin is? That’s why I called! He’s been missing for a few days. I know sometimes he stays overnight at your program, but he always calls.” The old lady stood up and picked up a business card. “Kevin left this with me. This guy’s the program supervisor. I called him and all I got was the computer. Can you guys tell me where my boy is?”
Had turned into ice and shattered in the aisleway down by a nautical-themed bar. Had probably melted into the sewer system by then.
“Just a few more nights at our program,” Rachael reassured her. “We’re running a test, and the participants cannot have any outside contact. When it’s over, I’ll make sure he calls you right away.” She had really mastered the art of deception.
Blake took the business card from Mrs. Bates, and formulated the parting words. “On behalf of Hermes Pharmaceuticals, we thank you again for your family’s continued support on our clinical trials. It’s been monumental in helping patients around the world.”
They left the old lady’s unit and took another look at the business card. The old lady mistook them for representatives from Hermes. The business card belonged to Benjamin Jones, Program Director of Capacify.
“I’m glad we didn’t drop off any Ashlea Edwards souvenirs,” said Tylor.
They returned to the office. Blake quickly checked her phone. She still got a bit of time to rehearse again for her kickoff presentation. There’s only one chance to make a first impression.
She sat nervously outside Ashlea’s office. “Stop biting your nails,” urged Rachael. “We’ll be fine. From what you told me, Ashlea is super nice. It should just be a discussion.”
“I hope our preliminary findings are good enough,” Blake said, fidgeting with her notes on her lap. “What if she hates all of it?”
“Stop psyching yourself out,” Rachael comforted her.
The door opened, and the very casually dressed Ashlea stepped out of the door. “Sorry, my previous conversation on the call went way over time. Some people really like to hear themselves talk. Please come on in.” They followed Ashlea in, and were surprised to see a young scrawny man already in the room. “Hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d invite Victor to give some more insights on our discussion.”