Climatic Climacteric Omnibus

by L. B. Carter

  Their speed crept up, the trees on the roadside whipping by too fast to identify individual trunks. They swerved around a minivan puttering incredibly slowly.

  “Why do we need Sirena separated from your mom?” Henley inquired. The car chase didn’t distract her from the uneasy feeling her companions’ undisclosed intentions gave her. In fact, it empowered it.

  “Did you not hear about the tort—” Jen slammed on the breaks, dropping their velocity rapidly. Just as quickly, the engine purred, their car coasting smoothly at a steady but slower rate.

  Henley flipped back around. The minivan was behind them now, right on their bumper at their new speed. There was no sign of the black SUV. “Do you see them?” she worried.

  “Nuh. New problems,” Jen breathed, fearfully. “Right up the nose instead of up our ass. A little closer, and we’ll be the human centipede.”

  Henley didn’t ask about that reference—probably to Jen’s shock—and focused forward again. She couldn’t help but lurch between the front seats. “Does BSTU control them too?” she asked Buster who was alternating his sharp gaze between their rear and the sedan they trailed.

  “Not entirely,” he responded, unhelpfully. “Keep pace.” He held a staying hand out at Jen.

  “What do you think I’m doing, Einstein?” she chided, tension adding an edge to her banter.

  “It’s back,” Sirena said quietly. Henley noticed her seatmate’s teal eyes were like saucers, lips sucked in and pinched tight, and one hand clutched at a necklace. Sirena jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

  The black SUV was a lane to their left, creeping up around the van. The sunlight glinting on the darkly tinted windows prevented Henley from viewing their trackers.

  “Do you think it’s someone from the post office?”

  Nobody answered.

  Henley had felt so confident in her slightly-modified plan.

  They knew the moment their pursuer also saw the police car because it immediately fell back, remaining at their back left corner, out of sight of the black and white sedan.

  “Well, this is great. We’re in a stalemate,” Jen complained. “Now I am going to have to drive us single-handedly across the country.” Jen sounded as if she also wanted to punch Buster.

  “And we’ll lead our follower right to our destination,” Henley added unhappily.

  “No,” Buster retorted.

  “Oh, and you’ve got another brilliant plan?” Jen asked, checking the mirrors again. “I’m not convinced your idea to stop at a post office was all that great. I donno. I kinda liked Henley’s style. What have you got, Henley?”

  Henley balked, mind processing all the possible options. “Uhh…” she stalled as she thought.

  “No.”

  “I’m going to disallow that word from being used in this car or else I’m rear-ending the cops and telling them it was all your idea and you kidnapped the lot of us.”

  Buster sighed. Well, he wasn’t the only one irritated. “We are going to run out of gas before that happens.”

  Oh. Henley hadn’t even factored that into her considerations. Being out of her depth was belittling, after being an excellent and highly-praised scholar for so long. So had the Bus, admittedly.

  “Shrimp,” Sirena exclaimed.

  “Barbequed shrimp,” Jen agreed. “We’re toast.”

  Henley made a face. “Shrimp on toast?”

  “We need to exit the highway,” Buster interrupted the girls’ insane panic, “calmly.”

  “But you said not to. That’ll slow us down.” Sirena was audibly worried.

  “Not to mention, whoever’s following us will be able to catch up.” Henley doubted the SUV would outrun the old four-door they stole first—it appeared to be electric. Henley had seen a few similar in lab, being worked on.

  “It’s a risk,” Buster allowed. “A less dangerous one.” He was all about the outcome, uncaring of the method and its collateral.

  “I’d calculate the unknown enemy a more dangerous risk,” Henley argued. “The police have no reason to suspect us. They were here before us and haven’t turned on their lights. It appears they are not alerted to us, if they are part of BSTU, and if they’re not, they have no reason to interact with us.”

  “Uh, hello? We jacked a car,” Jen pointed out in a higher voice than she’d used thus far, even when they’d been escaping BSTU.

  “I doubt anyone’s reported it missing yet.” Henley was hoping more than guessing.

  “The most dangerous enemy is the one with power,” Buster said with finality. Assuming he’d concluded the argument, he threw out more commands. “Slow down, then shift into the right lane behind this pick-up truck.”

  Jen complied.

  Everyone kept wary eyes on the sedan. It remained as it was. Was it waiting to drop behind them?

  The SUV didn’t take their vacated place behind the police. Did that mean BSTU wasn’t working with the police, and they were staying unobtrusive?

  Amazingly, the vehicle they now sat behind was even slower than the van. It neatly cut off the SUV, which was remaining slightly behind them, two lanes over. The SUV started to pull ahead.

  “Now accelerate in front of this car.”

  An exit was coming up fast, the green sign huge in their windshield.

  “We won’t fit,” Sirena whispered on a sharp inhale, nearly yanking her necklace off with the grip she had on it.

  Henley too was clutching the armrest between them with one hand and the handle on the ceiling with the other.

  “Oh yeah? Watch me.” It was a good thing Jen had confidence since she was the one who had to get them another foot clear of their neighbor’s grill in only a few dozen feet of rapidly disappearing cement.

  A whoop of sirens startled screams out of the two girls in the back, a cuss out of their driver, and a screech of tires and the horn of the little hatchback they overtook as they zoomed that much faster and slid neatly in front, just missing dinging the barrier of the exit ramp with their headlight.

  Jen let out a relieved cheer, and Sirena let out a huge breath she must have been holding.

  Henley, however, was staring at the highway. The barrier cut off her line of sight as they dropped onto the slip road. Their little car quieted, slowing. She hadn’t been able to see the SUV. Was it still up there? Had they been fast enough?

  “Smoking tires! I want to try drifting next. I should’ve become a smooth criminal ages ago.” Jen gave herself a literal pat on the back. “All right, so you’ve got a few brains up there,” she granted, giving Buster a gentle nudge with her fist to the shoulder. “Not quite mastermind-level yet, but we’re getting there. Is this why Henley calls you the Bus? You a good driver?”

  Ace shifted away. “Do not use physical abuse as praise. It rewards improper behavior.”

  Jen held up a palm. “Sorry, dude.”

  “I’d have to hit him twice as hard to make sure he understands my message,” Henley drawled.

  “You do one, I’ll do the other,” Sirena offered generously.

  Henley grinned. Their comradery was improving. She felt more like a team.

  “He’s not so much ‘good’ at driving,” Henley explained the nickname, “as being unwilling to stop for people.” She recalled a few in her lab dodging him as he raced, ignoring the protests to slow down from professors, on his way back up the stairs after someone had set off the fire alarm with improper wiring. He’d been in such a rush to get back to work.

  “Ah, the movie Speed. Gotcha. Well, let’s hope it keeps up.” Jen held up her hand, pointer and middle fingers crossed.

  In fact, he’d knocked a paper Henley was reading into a mess of pages on the floor one time when he’d bumped past in the hallway.

  Henley frowned at Jen, wondering how much time she’d spent on her work. “You must have been evasive yourself to have never been in his way in the halls.”

  “Psh, I was barely allowed to leave the lab, and I’ve only been there a few months.”

>   Not four years and eleven months. It was hard to remember Jen was younger than Henley; she had confidence. Henley considered if being secluded had stunted her own psychological growth, so to speak, like Sirena’s.

  Jen continued, “And remember, I didn’t hang with the other kids; I was mostly quarantined in my Mom’s quarters.”

  “So you weren’t trapped inside?” She hadn’t said anything earlier when Henley told Sirena they weren’t allowed outside. Henley felt like an oscillator alternating between feeling part of a united group and feeling dragged-along, unable to keep up.

  “I mean, inside is relative. Professors’ apartments are on campus.” She ignored Henley’s huff. “So now what, Mr. Evasive?”

  It would have been Dr. Evasive in only one month. Henley would have been Dr. Bickford. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  Now Henley had seen the authoritative side of academia, she wasn’t sure she had been cut out for that title in any place. She couldn’t stomach consigning her own students to termination.

  Was Jen sneaking out with Sirena to avoid termination—either hers or her experiment’s… or both? Henley wanted that answer soon.

  First, though, they needed to repair their plans— Her stomach growled. —and perhaps find nourishment, since she hadn’t been so successful. The popcorn idea had ended up going to the birds, literally.

  “We need to find somewhere to wait for a while.” Buster was still discretely checking their mirrors.

  “What? I thought you said stopping was bad. We’re moving slower than a shake through a straw as it is.”

  “We also need food.” Either Jen’s shake comment had Sirena salivating like it did Henley, meaning she did consume food, or she had heard Henley’s stomach. Did she have super-hearing?

  “We need to allow our pursuer to advance some distance before we return to the road.”

  “You don’t wanna take a shortcut?” Jen was darting raised brows at Buster as she navigated the feeder road.

  “No.”

  “Wouldn’t that help to get them off our trail though and let us keep going?” It was surprising that Jen was more eager than the Bus to plow on.

  “No.”

  “What did I say about that word?” Jen held up a pointed finger, turning the wheel a bit towards the curb on the roadside and the trees behind it. “Debbie Downer.”

  Buster sighed. He was going to make himself hyperventilate doing that so often. Jen’s questions were valid. “That would only be true if they weren’t tracking us. We need to exchange transport vehicles.”

  “Is this why you need me?” Henley queried with a frown, reluctant to add other count of grand theft auto to her name. At this rate, she wasn’t sure if she was better than BSTU.

  Then again, they killed children, if she could still count herself and her peers as such.

  “N—” Buster cut himself off at Jen’s “Eh!” He didn’t try again, to Henley’s dismay.

  There was a silence.

  “Pull into this hotel,” he announced, pointing at a run-down motel with missing letters on the sign and a lot of dirt on the walls.

  There was only one car in the lot, as it was barely noon, and it wasn’t an SUV.

  Henley relaxed. She was actually tired. Their escape had been in the middle of the night and she’d barely been able to sleep before their meeting time out of nerves. Her boat nap was far from restful with the nightmare and rude awakening, and very short.

  Once Jen parked next to the other car, which logically most likely belonged to the employee they could see staring at her phone through the broken blinds in the window, Buster turned in his seat.

  A slight sheen dotted his forehead. He hadn’t been as collected during their car chase as he’d seemed. He pointed at Jen. “You go get us a room.”

  “Woah, buddy. Keep the belt on. Okay, just because I complimented you doesn’t mean I’m interested that step.”

  He spoke over her. “You two wait here and then go straight to the room.” His finger jabbed at Sirena then Henley. “I will get us some food.” He pointed at the fast food joint across the street, the only other building nearby.

  “Does BSTU supply those tellers, too?” Henley worried.

  “Maybe you and your fist should go with him,” Jen joked, opening her door to slide out. The sound of traffic on the freeway they were supposed to be on was loud.

  Buster got out, turning to lean in with an adamant and serious look. “No—I’m outside the car,” he argued with Jen’s “Ah!” then carried on. “You are not to be out in public. It jeopardizes everything.”

  “Us?” Henley was incredulous. “This coming from the guy who wore a lab coat around the harbor.”

  “Stay.” He treated her like a dog again and left.

  “So, what do you need me for?” Henley called after him.

  Jen chuckled. “You two sharing a bed will be fun.” She slammed her door on Henley’s appalled protest.

  “I am not allowed too close to people. Especially men,” Sirena excused herself before Henley could ask to switch bedmates. “I’m a danger.”

  Henley huffed out a breath, deciding to sleep in the car. She unballed her hand. It wore on the material to keep flexing it so; she hadn’t tested it for long durations of stress and wear.

  Henley was going to be a danger to Buster if he didn’t start answering her questions.

  ◆◆◆

  The room felt much like the cheap motel Henley’s family had moved to after the fire, those seventeen years ago, after she’d left the hospital. A motel was a motel. The faint aroma of smoke was from old cigarettes, and it was faintly covered with that chemical scent of flowers. That was different.

  The lingering fumes of smoke, like she’d sat too close to a bonfire, had permeated off their clothes, their belongings back then. It hadn’t been enough to overshadow the stench of disbelief, of shock, of outright denial that something so terrible and life-shattering had happened. The grief didn’t come until after they’d found a new house, when the emptiness sunk in, hollowing Henley from the inside.

  The wood paneling on the walls, the generic flower photography, even the deep maroon bedspreads were identical.

  “That’s to hide the bloodstains,” Jen said, grinning evilly, nodding at the two full-sized beds. “Less to clean.”

  “Doesn’t look like they clean so much as tidy,” Sirena commented as she wandered around, opening drawers.

  Henley cringed and turned away. She went to explore the bathroom, but the rust-stains, calcium build-up and water rings left her consigned to further filth.

  Mama had scrubbed the one they’d moved to, since Bromley had been at the age where she crawled all over and shoved anything she found in her mouth. That’s what she’d said. Henley had suspected it was more for something to do, to keep her mind occupied.

  Henley had done something similar, making lists of all the things she needed to replace, reading her book repeatedly, telling Doggy it was safe now that the fire had gone… Anything to ignore the loss of her hand and the bigger loss of the hand that used to hold hers to dance.

  “Where are we anyway?” Jen wondered aloud, staring out the window as Henley moved back into the main room.

  “West of Boston,” Henley retorted, the resurrection of her ancient feelings slithering up her throat and onto her tongue, sharpening it with sarcasm.

  Jen turned with raised brows.

  “Shouldn’t we close the blinds so no one sees us?” Sirena asked, eyes round.

  Jen snorted, shifting her attention to her lab experiment. “Like that’d stop anyone if they got this far.” She flipped around again, spread her arms wide, and did a little dance before the glass.

  “Or any thing,” Henley agreed in a mumble. Sight wasn’t a necessary sense. Humans relied on it, but they could modify if it was lost like adapting to a missing limb. Technology could be programmed to rely on whichever sense best benefited, to the extent of the proficiency of the engineer, of course. BSTU did not c
ultivate poorly skilled engineers. And that was neither compliment nor ego.

  “I miss my bed,” Sirena mourned, eyeing the one between her and Jen with trepidation.

  “I miss my bedmate,” Jen said, momentary pain twisting her mouth. Then she grinned. “Lucky duck, you get to be it today.” She belly-flopped onto the furniture in question. It would’ve been more fun, Henley surmised, if this one was a water-bed. As it was, the firm mattress barely gave, and Jen gave a groan, then rolled onto her back. “My nose,” she complained grabbing it.

  Sirena laughed. “You needed a nose-job anyway.”

  Jen rolled onto all-fours and growled at Sirena, eyes squinting in threat.

  It wasn’t true. Her aesthetics were well-proportioned and strong, her features defined but soft, with high cheekbones, bright eyes, red lips, and sleek pale-blond hair. A perfect human.

  Henley flexed her fingers.

  Jen snatched up a pillow and walloped Sirena with it, who shrieked playfully, her hair flying, and pulled it away. Jen sat back on her hands, satisfied with her retaliation, crossing her legs demurely along the bed, one foot seemingly accidentally kicking Sirena’s thigh. “This is almost like the old days.” Her eyes flicked to include Henley in her comment. “Like a sleepover. A fun adventure.”

  Henley couldn’t agree. For one thing, with Sirena and Jen bunking together, she’d be sharing the second bed with Buster. “How much farther do we have to go?”

  Jen shrugged, settling further back onto her elbows, watching Henley from under her long dark lashes.

  Sirena sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Jen’s feet, hugging the pillow. “That’s what I was wondering.”

  “I bet Buster knows. You’re gonna have to worm it out of him,” Jen suggested making childish kissy faces.

  Henley let out a cough of a laugh. “Like he’d ever divulge his knowledge.” She turned to scour the pamphlets on the desk for any mention of a location. “The office didn’t have a map or anything?”

  “Didn’t look. I was under orders, remember?”

  Henley came across a WiFi code. “Shame we can’t just look it up online.”