by Mark Gardner
“I was happy after the last time we were here, but you’re still the same pig you’ve always been.”
Before Kristof could retort, the man from the booth walked over.
Kristof shifted his attention from his angry wife to the newcomer. “Why’ve you been following me, man?” the distrust was evident in the question.
The newcomer spread his arms in surrender. “I must be getting old. I used to be able to tail someone.”
Kristof shrugged. “I seem to be seeing clearly these days. You gonna introduce yourself or what?”
The man smiled. “I’m Detective Frank Massey, with the Seattle Police Department.”
“I guess you know I’m Kristof. This is my wife, Krystal.” Krystal shot Kristof a look.
Massey shuffled a bit and tapped his hand on an empty chair at the table; hopeful it would elicit the desired response.
“Would you care to join us, Detective Massey?” inquired Krystal.
Massey appeared to consider the question for a moment and pulled the chair out and sat at an odd angle so he could see his table-mates and the front door at the same time.
“Well, Detective Massey?” Krystal inquired.
Massey turned slightly in her direction to respond. “I’m aware of certain...” Massey paused and looked over his shoulder, “oddities going on lately.”
Kristof frowned. “Am I one of those oddities?” Kristof made air-quotes with his fingers when he said the word ‘oddities.’
“I’ve been watching you for a few days now...”
“More like a week,” interrupted Kristof, barely tolerating the intrusion on his meal.
Massey stared at Kristof. “See? That’s an oddity. I may be a little rusty following someone in secret, but I know I’m not that bad.”
“Why’ve you been following my husband?” Krystal reached across the table for Kristof’s hand.
“Like I said, ‘oddities.’” Massey looked at Kristof. “Something about you reminds me of an old murder case I once worked.” Massey stood and rapped his knuckle twice on the table and placed a business card between the couple. “Thanks for your time.”
Massey walked out the door, jogged across the street and got into a sedan. Kristof watched until the sedan was a block away.
Krystal swirled coffee in her paper cup. “We need some time apart,” she blurted out.
“Apart? Why?”
“Why?” Krystal drank the remainder of her coffee in a single gulp.
“We’ve got cops sniffing about. We’ve got gangbangers coming to our house to do God only knows what.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “First you have some kind of super strength, now you have some sort of strange vision.” Krystal stood up. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. We have no kids. We don’t seem to have anything in common other than our mailing address. Supposedly, you’re gonna die in a day or two...”
“Two more sunsets,” Kristof interrupted.
“And weird shit like that! Sunsets? What the crap does that even mean?” She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and scooped up the business card left by Massey. “Go see doctor Flax. Stay at a nice hotel. If I need you, I’ll call you.” Krystal flipped her long hair, causing static discharge.
Lightning in her hair, thought Kristof.
Krystal dug in her purse and muttered, “Where’d I hide the keys?” She recovered her set, spun on her heel and walked out of the restaurant.
“Women, huh? Sounds like she’s history, man.”
Kristof turned to see the patron at the next table. He was a man in his thirties, but what Kristof noticed was the pair of leather gloves he wore. He was eating an appetizer of something fried, but kept his leather gloves on.
“Why’re you eating with your leather gloves on?”
“Trust me, the alternative is unpleasant.” The man met Kristof’s narrow gaze. “Deep fried oyster mushrooms arere tasty.” The man paused and smiled. “I have it on good authority that these were a delicacy in ancient times. Very delicious.” The man winked at Kristof. “Almost as delicious as your... wife?”
Kristof rolled his eyes. “Soon to be ex-wife, I guess.”
“No kids?”
Kristof shook his head.
“Well, at least, you got history, right?”
Kristof didn’t respond.
“The funny thing about history, though,” the man popped the last mushroom into his mouth. He wiped his gloves on a paper towel. With the mushroom bulging in his cheek, he continued, “everyone’s got history.” He picked up his soda. “History’s important. You never know what you’ll discover when you look up your own history.” Before Kristof could respond, the man stood with his tray and dumped its contents into a rubbish bin and walked out the door.
Kristof stared at the still-wrapped burger on his tray. He lost his voracious appetite, but he may want to eat it later. He dumped the contents into the same rubbish container and walked to the counter.
“Hey, darlin,’” Kristof waved the wrapped burger, “can I get a bag?”
The girl slid a bag across the counter. “Was that your girlfriend?” she asked.
“Something like that,” Kristof replied.
The girl placed her hand on Kristof’s as he reached for the bag. “Some girls don’t know what they’ve got, right?” She produced a pen and wrote something on the bag.
“A few of my friends are throwing me a party for my eighteenth birthday. If you’re in the area, you should stop by.”
Kristof smiled and glanced at the address and phone number she wrote on the bag, and then dropped the burger into it. “I’ll think about it,” he said. He took a final look at the girl and walked out of the restaurant.
Subject 267
“Oh, Denisha! I’m so glad you made it!”
Denisha smiled at her grandmother. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world, Nana!”
Denisha’s grandmother squinted, and her nose crinkled. The lines on her face reminded Denisha of a much younger version of herself. Then, unlike now, her grandmother would toss her into the air and catch the little girl that Denisha once was. The giggles and shrieks of pleasure were a constant companion when playing with her grandmother. Nana had a love of life that was notorious.
Now... thought Denisha. Now, her grandmother lifted the oxygen mask to her face and inhaled deeply.
“I’m afraid these old bones...” Nana coughed and a tinge of red splattered against the mask. Denisha felt heaviness in the center of her chest as she watched her cherished grandmother slowly suffocate.
The doctors had given Nana a year and a few months to live. Denisha hid a smile and admired the strength of her grandmother, almost three years after their initial diagnosis. It’s sad to see her strength fade, thought Denisha.
“I could tell you a thing or two about strength,” wheezed Nana.
Denisha’s reverie was suddenly interrupted. “Pardon, Nana?”
“You were mumbling something about strength.”
“Sorry, Nana, I was lost in thought.”
Nana smiled and despite her coughing fit, she had a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye. “I’ve never told anybody this...” She started to say but clamped her mouth shut.
Denisha walked to the couch and held her grandmother’s hand. “You can tell me, Nana. We all have secrets.”
Nana squeezed Denisha’s hand lightly. Denisha knew what those hands were capable of doing. Many a tantrum had those hand quelled. When Denisha was very young, she would succumb to fits of night terrors and those hands and arms would hug her close to Nana’s bosom and the fear would subside. It was as if Nana had a secret strength that would overcome anything. Anything that could be solved by a hug, reminisced Denisha.
“I’ve kept this secret from your pappy and your mother.”
“Before she died...” Denisha stared at the ceiling for a brief moment. “What’s your secret, Nana?”
“Please help me with this oxygen tank, dear.”
> As Denisha unhooked the depleted oxygen tank and replaced it with a fresh one, Nana started her story.
“I was a young woman, away at college. I hadn’t met your grandfather yet.” Nana smiled and held her free hand to her chest, momentarily lost in the moment. “I had a roommate, a fiery dark-haired girl named Anne Henderson.”
As the tale unfolded, Denisha dutifully listened to her aged grandmother.
“Anne, myself and a young man I was seeing were on our way to pick up Anne’s beau to see a motion picture.”
“It had snowed the night before, and the weather had turned to rain. It was a light rain, just as it was a light snow the night before. Most of the snow had been cleared, so we didn’t pay any mind to it. Anne was driving her brand new car with me and my date in the back seat.”
Nana stared off into the apartment for a moment before continuing. “Anne hit a patch of black ice.” Nana closed her eyes tight, and Denisha cold feel some of the former strength as Nana squeezed her hand tighter. “The car rolled over three or four times. When I came to, I found myself in the middle of the street, still gripping the door handle. The car had somehow ejected me and shed the door. I was banged up, but I could still walk, so I staggered to the car to see what happened to Anne and my date.”
Nana paused briefly and held the oxygen mask to her face. “The steering wheel had come off, and Anne’s chest was covered with blood. My date was still in a sitting position directly behind her. He didn’t appear to have any visible injuries, but he wasn’t moving. The passenger side of the car looked like something had pinched it shut. I knew I would have to get to my friends from the driver side.”
“The doors had a lot of damage, and they certainly would not open. I thought it useless, but I tried to pull the crumpled door open.”
“What happened, Nana?”
Nana patted Denisha’s hand and continued. “I tore the door right off the car.”
Denisha frowned at her grandmother. “Are you serious?”
Nana smiled and stood, leaving her adult granddaughter on the couch. “I did, child. I certainly did. I also pulled the back door off the car as well. My date was dead. He didn’t seem to have a scratch on him, but the was gone. I was hysterical. My date and my roommate were dead.”
Denisha regarded her grandmother with a healthy dose of skepticism. Nana had moved over to the oxygen tank and placed her hand on the empty that Denisha had just changed out. She picked up the cylinder with ease and held it in her outstretched hands. “But Anne wasn’t dead. Or she wasn’t in a way I understood.”
Nana squeezed the aluminum cylinder in her frail boney hands, and Denisha watched in amazement as Nana crushed and twisted the cylinder until it was bent at a forty-five-degree angle. Nana tossed the mangled lump of metal onto the couch beside Denisha, who stared. Denisha reached out and touched the metal and looked up at her grandmother. “Super strength?” she asked.
Nana peered at her granddaughter, her eyes mere slits as she bought an intense focus that had been her weapon of choice for many years. “You seem to be taking this well.”
Denisha looked up at the frail woman. “I’ve always suspected you were perfectly capable of opening your pickle jars, Nana.”
Nana smiled and walked to her granddaughter. “Still, you’re remarkably calm for someone who just saw an eighty-three-year-old woman bend a metal cylinder.”
Denisha looked up at her grandmother. “Nana, I have a secret, too.”
Nana stepped back. “You have a power too?”
Denisha shook her head, tight curls bobbing. “No, Nana. I work for this doctor. His name is Jacob Globe. He’s a Major in a Special Forces organization. We help people who have displayed...” Denisha grasped for the word. “Specialness,” she concluded.
Nana took another step away from the grandchild she raised as her own. “Denisha!” she hissed, her smile withering, “I suspect a government organization like the one you describe to have had some involvement in your parent’s deaths.”
“Don’t be silly, Nana. I’ve seen the reports. A damaged kerosene furnace vented toxic carbon monoxide into the apartment building. It wasn’t only Mom and Dad that died; it was almost everyone in the tenement. If I hadn’t been visiting you, I might have died too.”
“Child...” Nana began. “They’ve lied to you... to us... for so long.”
“I don’t think so, Nana. Doctor Globe can help you.”
It was Nana’s turn to regard her granddaughter with a healthy dose of skepticism. “I don’t know.”
“You did the right thing, Denisha. We’ll take good care of your grandmother.”
“I don’t know, Doctor Globe, she was perfectly happy at home.”
“Her apartment lacks the resources to research her condition.” Globe peered into the room where Nana sat staring at a wall.
Denisha fingered a folder in a plastic holder by the door. She ran her finger along the stencil: two-six-seven. “Why is the number so low?” she inquired, “shouldn’t we be in the three hundreds by now?”
Globe led Denisha away by the shoulder. “We’ve had our suspicions about your grandmother for awhile now. She was on a list of potentials Justin was... uh... researching before, he left to work with Anne.”
“Anne Henderson?”
Globe nodded. “She happened a little before you came to work with us.” He paused. “I wasn’t aware you knew about her.”
Denisha shrugged. “Scuttlebutt, I guess.” She struggled to ensure her face did not betray her. The story her grandmother told shed new light on their sometimes friend, sometimes enemy, but all-around pain-in-the-ass, Anne Henderson.
Satisfied with her response, the two walked to Globe’s office in silence. Before Globe opened the door to his office, he placed a hand on Denisha’s shoulder and looked into her eyes. “We will take superb care of your grandmother.”
“I know, Doctor. I’m trying to maintain my objectivity about the situation.”
Globe nodded. “There’s a new subject coming in. Three-one-six is his designation.” He turned the doorknob to his office. “Put him beside two-six-seven... er... um... your grandmother.”
Denisha nodded. “Tha’s okay, Doctor Globe.” She forced a smile at the man. “I’ll put subject three-one-six in the room next to two-six-seven.”
“Good girl, Denisha.” Globe watched her walk toward intake. Globe walked into his office and sat heavily in his chair. He stared out the open door for a moment and picked up the telephone on his desk.
“Get me operations.”
A click was followed by a voice. “Operations.”
“I need someone to keep an eye on one of my assistants.”
“Name?”
“Denisha Massey.”
“Will do, Sir. Anything else?”
“Yes.” Globe cleared his throat. “Be careful with this one. She’s family, and could be a valuable asset. She has connections she doesn’t know about yet.”
“Acknowledged, eyeballs only. Operations out.”
Globe replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Denisha rushed into his office. “Doctor Globe, three-one-six is crashing.”
“I’ll bet.” Globe grabbed his lab coat and shouldered into it as he raced behind Denisha to the room beside her grandmother. He had read the paperwork on three-one-six, but he was eager to see it first hand.
“Operations?”
“Another potential subject.” While Major Globe waited for a response on the other end of the line, he drank the sludge they claimed was coffee.
“Subject designation?”
Globe winced at the taste of the coffee. “Three-two-zero. A math nerd. Too bad three-one-four is already used, right?”
“Yes, sir, very good sir.” A brief pause, followed by, “System shows last known as the park on twenty-seventh. Type of operation?”
“Retrieval if the subject displays a hint of powers. He never leaves the park, so the last known sighting should be
accurate.”
Globe could hear key presses and shuffling papers. “Critical chain?”
“Immediate acquisition, but, as I said, location isn’t expected to change.”
“We’ve got an acquisition that takes precedence today, is tomorrow acceptable?”
“Affirmative, happy hunting.”
“Confirmed, Operations, out.”
Kristof showed up to the address written on the food bag and climbed the stairs to the brownstone. The girl’s name was Naomi. Say it backward, she winked and purred before drinking another tumbler of a clear liquid. Naomi was excited to see him and dragged him around to all her friends, telling the story of the robbery he foiled. Each telling of the tale now more than a month old required more drinks. Each telling got more extravagant, and Naomi was soon slurring her speech. At first, the attention was welcome, but it didn’t take long for him to feel out of place with kids half his age. His days of partying were long gone. Krystal preferred a glass of wine by the fireplace.
Krystal would make fun of me for this, he thought. “It’s none of her business now,” he said out loud. Naomi ignored his statement and danced in front of Kristof. More than one male attending the party watched her. Kristof could see the lust in their eyes for her, and their envy for him. Naomi drank more and more through the evening until she could barely stand. She kept trying to kiss Kristof, but he resisted her advances.
“I don’t feel so good,” slurred Naomi. “Can you take me to my room?”
Kristof helped her to her room, and she dragged him inside. She tried to look and act sexy, but only ended up staggering and tripping over her things. She lay on the bed and started to unbutton her shirt. Kristof sat next to her, and she picked up his hand and placed it on her thigh.
Kristof withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry, Naomi, but I can’t do this right now.”
“But...” She stared at him. “You’re my hero; I want to thank you properly for rescuing me.” She tried to hug Kristof from behind, but only succeeded in throwing her small frame against his back.
“I’m no hero. I just happened to be eating at the restaurant at the right time.”