Diane took a step backward. Sapphire’s warning pealed in her ears. The wine, or the chocolates, not both. The chocolates were bad. Lyssa was eating the chocolate. She cupped her hand over her mouth in terror. Lyssa cocked her head, then clutched her belly. “These taste funny,” she said, then slid onto the floor, experiencing dry heaves. She coughed and sputtered, then made another attempt to vomit, which only caused a line of drool to swing from her lower lip.
Diane rushed to her side. She knelt down and patted Lyssa’s bare back. “Hold on, Lyss, I’m going to call an ambulance. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Just… hold on.” Lyssa gasped and groaned, pounding the floor with her fist and beginning to twitch. Diane lunged for her comm unit. The screen was black. She brought the unit out of standby mode with frantic taps and swipes, but the screen went black again when she pressed the button to contact the emergency services. Instead of initiating a contact session with a dispatcher, the screen displayed a single word in white block lettering: INDEPENDENCE.
EPILOGUE
The masked man approached a woman dressed in surgical scrubs as she stepped into the corridor. She gulped as she eyed his featureless mask. He gestured to the door. “How is our latest acquisition?”
She pulled her surgical mask away from her mouth. “He’s in stable condition. Borderline critical, but he’ll live. We’ve still got a long way to go to clean up the mess.”
“I wish to speak with him,” said the masked man.
The surgeon shook her head vigorously. “He’s still under heavy anesthesia. To pull him out now could be life-threatening, if not just, well, torture. Give us at least another seven hours.”
“No, I will speak with him now. If you won’t bring him online, I’ll find someone else who will.”
The surgeon replaced her mask and nodded. Fear shone in her eyes as she pushed the door open to the operating suite. Cade Goodwin was strapped to a gurney and tended to by an array of medical staff. They all looked at the masked man with trepidation, then focused on their assigned tasks. The surgeon sidled up to one of the techs. “He wants to speak to the patient. Bring him online.”
The tech balked, then looked at the masked man. “Sure, give me a sec.” He injected something into Goodwin’s arm which made him struggle to breathe. The masked man stepped to Goodwin’s side and leaned over his face.
“Do you know who I am?”
Goodwin cried out in agony, then his breath hissed through spittle. “You’re… nobody.”
“Accurate. Do you know why you’re here?”
Goodwin howled again. “Oh God, it hurts. Why are you doing this to me?”
The masked man cocked his head. “We are helping you, Mister Goodwin. I asked if you knew why you’re here. Do you recall what happened?”
Goodwin nodded and seethed. “Diane Pembrook shot me.”
“Do you know where?”
“M-my junk, I guess.” His muscles tensed up. “I feel like I’m covered in bees. What did you do to me?”
“We are making improvements. Soon, you will be better than ever. When you’re back on your feet, tell me, what is your primary objective?”
Goodwin fought to breathe, then gave the masked man a hard stare. “I’m going to kill her. I’m going to kill Diane Pembrook if it’s the last thing I do.”
The masked man nodded and gestured to the tech. “I am satisfied. Take him offline.” The tech injected something into Goodwin’s other arm and shortly thereafter, Goodwin was breathing normally, and his eyes were closed. The masked man waved to the surgeon and led her out of the room. The surgeon pulled her mask away once the door closed.
“He might have just suffered severe psychological damage. You can’t be doing that. It’s not worth it.”
“The risks were within acceptable limits. See to it that the adjustments to his frontal lobe are made to my specifications. I have great expectations for this asset.”
“That’s what you said about Pembrook, with all due respect. What’s so important about this guy? What’s he going to be when we’re done with him that she isn’t?”
The masked man placed his gloved hand on her cheek. She shivered at his touch.
“Insurance,” he said coldly.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ethan Johnson resides in Florida with his wife and dog. If you see him at Disney World, that’s completely normal.
For his full book catalog, and to receive a free eBook for signing up for his newsletter, please visit:
http://officialethanjohnson.com
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