Fatal Serum

by Sam Black

  Father O’Malley stared at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You’ll be putting him in danger. He’s trying to get your name cleared. I think it best we leave it alone for right now.”

  I nodded, but didn’t like the answer he had given me. We parted company at 11:15 a.m. I had a manila envelope in my right hand, which contained our instructions. Father O’Malley briefed me and hugged me goodbye. “May God be with you today, tomorrow and always.”

  “Thank you for everything you have done. I shall never forget what you have done for me and Cheryl.” My eyes were wet. I would have written a check right then and there for a million dollars to his Parish, but I decided to wait until another time. Besides, I didn’t have any money in the bank.

  I almost ran to the hotel to give Cheryl the good news.

  At six blocks from the Hotel, I heard “Sam! Sam!” My blood stopped flowing in my veins for a few seconds. The voice came from behind me—a male voice. I kept the same pace, afraid to stop or turn around. I didn’t recognize the voice, or I didn’t think I did. No, it wasn’t Father O’Malley. “Sam, it’s me, Travis.” I heard his steps behind me. My heart stopped, but my feet were still moving. How could he recognize me? My fists became clenched. It didn’t sound like Travis, or at least I didn’t think so, but then nothing had been clear since that awful day.

  Jennifer’s face appeared in front of me. “Jen, Jen” I managed to whisper from my dry lips. The steps behind me grew louder and louder.

  “Sam, wait. I have some great news.” That voice did not belong to Travis Shears. I continued my pace. The man, now beside me, said, “I’m sorry.” He stared at me a moment. “I thought you wer-were someone else.”

  I never said a word, just tried to get my heart beating again. My lungs hurt from lack of oxygen. I wondered how much longer I’d have to run, have to hide, have to be somebody else, have to be broke. “Oh, God, please help me.”

  Cheryl was sitting in the room when I arrived. I closed the door behind me and locked it. Walking toward the bed, I opened the manila envelope. My hands were still trembling from the encounter with the man on the street. “Sam, you’re shaking.” She put a hand on each of my shoulders. “What is that?” Cheryl asked.

  Her touch helped control my shaking. I looked up at her. “Your hair, I like it.” She gave me a quick smile, as she ran her fingers through her reddish, short hair. Her hair looked to be no longer than maybe one and a half inches.

  “I saw a priest, a Father O’Malley, and he will help us. These are our instructions.” I pulled them from the envelope and several pieces of paper fell on the carpeted floor by my feet. I reached down and grabbed them. Cheryl sat next to me on the bed.

  The first page informed us to stay in our room until someone came to take our pictures and get our measurements. This person would be a lady named Rene. She would have black hair and wear a red jacket with silver buttons. Our Illinois driver’s licenses would be ready the following morning. This same lady would bring them, along with a credit card with a $3000.00 limit and an expiration date in six months. Our names would be changed to Trevor L. Moss and Josephine R. Rogers. “Josephine was my aunt’s name,” Cheryl blurted out.

  We would have a Motorola cell phone, a phone charger and Verizon would be our carrier. The phone would be registered under another name not revealed. Rene would bring the phone with the licenses.

  A 2004, blue, Honda Accord would be in the hotel parking garage. Again, Rene would bring the keys to our room. The Honda would be registered under an ABC Car Rental company. All papers would be in the glove department.

  A folded map gave us directions to Payson, Arizona. I looked at Cheryl; her eyes met mine. I saw a slight twinkle. “I’ve never been to Arizona,” I said. Looking at the map, my index finger traced the yellow magic marker line from Chicago to Payson.

  “I’ve never been outside of Georgia until a few days ago.” Her face showed strain. “One day I went to Alabama with my momma to see my Aunt Bessie in Pottersville,” Cheryl said, before she ran her finger across the map to an unknown area.

  “Cheryl, you call me Trevor and I will call you Jo.” Our eyes met and stayed glued to each other for several seconds.

  She smiled, threw her arms around me and whispered in my right ear, “Okay, Trevor.” I held her close until the warmth of her body made my face flush.

  I read the rest of the information and found out we were staying in Rolla, Missouri the first night and Albuquerque, New Mexico the second night, reaching Payson on the third day. We would be staying in private homes and all meals would be furnished. A sheet from Map Quest, included in the packet, showed each home’s address. No names were mentioned. They were to be notified about our arrival. A thought hit me: Pictures of us would be sent to these people.

  The paperwork instructed me to get my hair cut and beard trimmed prior to picture taking. The barber, a short man with a blue coat, would be at our room at 4:00 p.m. today. I reached up and ran my fingers through my shabby beard. Jo looked at me and held my hairy face with her long, muscular fingers. “You could use a trim. I’m not sure about the burr cut, though.” Her fingers slowly ran its course, massaging my scalp, while her hot breath covered my face.

  “You have great hands, Jo.” I slumped into a half trance, while her fingers tried to take away the hurt that had engulfed my head. Before I knew it, my forehead was lying on her breasts and my body went limp.

  I managed to raise my head and read the rest of the information. Jo’s fingers continued to massage the back of my neck. I read on. When we reach Payson, we are to call a telephone number listed and someone will meet us to give us our itinerary. The cell phone should only be used in an emergency and to contact the man in Payson. We were given three emergency telephone numbers to be used while on our trip, only in the designated States.

  All of our old identifications, along with anything else traceable, were to be given to the lady with the red jacket with silver buttons. That included my gun. I probably would never use it, but the thought of not having it scared the crap out of me. All of our clothes, personal items, identifications, jewelry, including my watch, wedding ring and anything else the black-haired lady thought needed to be confiscated, would be taken and put somewhere safe. At least, I hoped so. My wallet and Jennifer’s picture would be—“Oh!” My left hand went to my mouth, “My God.”

  Chapter 31

  MY HEART FROZE

  Someone knocked on our door. I’d been rereading all the information for the tenth time. I had to memorize every detail as all the information would be taken from us by the lady with the red jacket. My heart froze. I looked at my watch and it was 3:59 p.m. I forced myself to a standing position. Jo sat looking out the window and upon hearing the knock, spun around. Her eyes read frightened. I walked toward the door. The sweat oozed from the pores on my palms.

  I looked through the peephole. A short man in a blue coat stood looking up at the peephole waiting for me to open the door. I opened the heavy, fireproof door. He looked at me and said in a husky voice, “Your name Trevor Moss?”

  I nodded, stepped back and let him in, shutting the door behind him. He carried a small, black bag. He checked around the room and then went into the bathroom. His cheek twitched before he said, “We’ll do it in here.” He laid the bag on the vanity and unzipped it, pulling out two pairs of scissors, hair clippers, a black comb, a small hair brush, a small vacuum and a small brush to clean the clippers.

  After twenty minutes, he had trimmed my beard, given me a burr cut, cleaned his clippers with the small brush, vacuumed up all my hair, packed his things neatly back into his black bag and gone out the door. The only words he spoke were after I had opened the door and let him in: “We’ll do it in here.” I never said anything to him.

  I studied myself in the mirror and, without a doubt, I looked better, maybe even younger. Jo joined me in the bathroom. “Trevor, you look so much better. I hardly recognize you.”

  I smiled as she ra
n her hand across my thick stubble. She kissed me lightly, high on my cheek, with her left hand pressed against my other cheek. Her breasts were pushed against my arm. My loins ached. My head wanted her. My heart stopped me cold. The view of Jennifer iced my thoughts, instantly. Jo knew immediately, but said nothing, just stroked the back of my neck with her long fingers.

  A loud pounding at the door erased any thoughts we might have had. “It’s the police. Open up at once.” The pounding terrified both of us. I tried to move, but my body froze. Jo’s face turned white. Her eyes widened, never blinking. The loud voice came again. “Open up at once. This is the police.” More pounding came, only this time much louder.

  I dragged myself toward the door, knowing our fate could be seconds away. The damn credit card I used for security at the front desk. How could they find us so quickly? There’s no way they could know—unless the priest—no way. My hand reached the French door handle and unlatched the safety chain. I looked at Jo, who was stowing the papers and the manila envelope under the bed covers. I nodded and pushed down on the handle. I pulled open the door. Greeting me were three men, their guns drawn. Two of the men were dressed in uniform; the other in a navy sport coat, tan slacks, blue shirt and tie. All three were taller and bigger than me.

  “Get your hands up and lean against the wall. You, too, miss.” Jo froze. “Move it, lady. Now!” She hadn’t moved. A uniformed cop grabbed her arm and shoved her against the wall. “Get your hands up.” Her arms were shaking. The cop placed her hands above her head and against the wall. He kicked her feet apart. “Don’t touch her, officer. We need to get a female officer up here,” the plain clothes cop said.

  I stood with my feet three feet apart, my hands flat against the wall. Two hands ran from my burr cut to the bottom of my feet. “He’s clean,” a uniformed cop reported.

  The plain clothes cop’s cell phone rang. He reached in the side pocket of his sport coat and pulled out the phone, flipping the cover and said, “Hanson here.” Thirty seconds later, he said, “You’re sure you have the right people?” He flipped his cover shut and dropped the cell phone in his coat pocket. “I’m sorry, folks. We got a bad lead. They just caught the people we were looking for. We apologize, but we have to check out every lead. The people we were trying to apprehend are killers. We have to do our job. Again, we are sorry. You folks have a nice day.” When the door shut behind us, Jo and I collapsed on the bed.

  We held each other. Both of us trembled. Jo spoke first. “Trevor!”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this. When will it end?” I could feel the heat from her body. “That scared the be-jesuses out of me. Hold me, Trevor.”

  “I know. Hopefully, we’ll get everything resolved.”

  We embraced on the bed, our bodies pressed against one another. Her trembling lasted for several minutes. Our mouths met and we kissed. Her lips were dry. Was I trying to console her or did I really want to make love to her? We kissed again and her lips became moist. Her tongue touched mine. Our bodies pressed tighter.

  The phone rang and we both jumped. On the fourth ring, I managed to pick the receiver up. “Hello.”

  A female voice on the other end wanted to know if we needed anything from the bar. They were having a special today. “We have two for one, with several choices of hors-d’oeuvres.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece and asked, “Jo, do you want anything from the bar? They have hors-d’oeuvres, also.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a glass of red wine and whatever they have.” She sat up on the bed with her long legs crossed in front of her, Indian style.

  I smiled. “Yes, we will have some red wine and a Dewar’s on the rocks, with a splash of water.” I put the cordless phone down on the night stand next to the bed. Jo threw her arms around my neck.

  “Maybe if we get drunk enough, we can block out our nightmares,” Jo said. Her body remained rigid.

  “I have to admit, a scotch right now would surely ease my tension.”

  “I’ll give you a massage later. I promise you’ll feel much better.” She grinned, but lost it immediately.

  The five o’clock news was on the TV. “We have some vital information on the SAWWS Inc. murders. Jennifer Abbott, the wife of Sam Abbott, has been identified as the victim pulled from Lake Oconee just last week. DNA results are conclusive. The FBI in Atlanta informed us today.” My heart sank to the floor. My body ran ice cold in seconds. I wanted to throw up, but had nothing in my stomach. Jo had her hands on my temples immediately.

  “Mr. Snowden, Jennifer Abbott’s father, had these words to say after finding out his daughter was the victim.” I raised my head to watch Jen’s father speak.

  “Jennifer’s mother and I want to let everyone know we don’t believe for a second that Sam Abbott had anything to do with our daughter’s death or the death of any of his employees. I feel he has been captured.” His voice cracked with every word. A pause in his voice silenced the room. “God only knows who, why, or how these brutal crimes were done. Sam is the brains behind SAWWS. He has either been murdered or he is on the run because our government has yet to come up with any evidence in this horrific crime. Sam, if you by any chance are listening to this news cast, please watch your backside. I’m working everyday with David Holloway on this tragic ordeal. I’m here to tell you, we will get to the bottom of this.”

  Jo’s finger tips were pushing and stroking my temples. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably shoot myself. I can’t lose anymore. My wife, my brother and all my employees murdered. I’ve saved thousands of lives over the last ten years and, now, they destroy everything. Who are they? I jumped up from the bed and went in the bathroom, locked the door and coughed up slimy bile. I cried for several minutes. I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom with my head in my hands when Jo’s voice came through the door. “Trevor, Trevor what can I do?” I said nothing. “Trevor, you can’t do it alone. Let me help. We have no one except each other. I need you, Trevor. Please answer me. Oh, God, please help me.”

  I crawled to the door and unlocked it. Jo pushed it open slowly and then embraced me. “Trevor, I was afraid you—oh, God, hold me.”

  I got myself up off the floor and threw cold water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I saw a startled man.

  A loud knock at the door rattled me. “Go away, damn it. Leave us alone.”

  “Trevor, it’s probably room service.” She rushed toward the door. It was room service. I just stared at the young man who had brought our wine, scotch and hors-d’oeuvres. He looked at me and his eyes widened as he sat the tray down on the large dresser.

  My image in the mirror above the dresser looked pathetic. I had bile splattered on the front of my burgundy sweater and my eyes were blood shot. I took off the sweater and threw it across the room.

  “Here, Trevor, have some scotch. You’ll feel better,” Jo said, as she put the glass of scotch in my hand and moved my hand toward my lips, as if I were a baby.

  I took a swig and almost choked. Jo beat me on my back. I wanted to die, but something in my heart was telling me to fight. I wish I could see the curves. Right now, I can’t see the straightaway. David, I need your help.

  Chapter 32

  LOSING SELF CONTROL

  We sipped our drinks and munched on the hors-d’oeuvres. The silver tray held three different kinds of hors-d’oeuvres: Egg rolls filled with spinach; chicken wings with a mustard sauce; and several raw vegetables with a French onion dip. After the second scotch and spending an hour rehearsing, I hoped my brain remained capable of handling the storage of information. I used to be really good at comprehension, but lately I didn’t trust myself.

  Jo read everything as soon as I finished. She laid the papers down and walked over to me. I was standing in front of the window, staring into space, picturing my employees, Jennifer, my brother, and my parents as I remembered them. Her arms slid through my limp arms and she cupped my breasts. She laid her head on my left shoulder and pulled me tightly against her. I felt
the warmth of her body, the softness of her breasts against my back. I needed her love. I had no one else left. My groin ached. She kissed my ear and her hands fell toward the forked part below my waist. “Trevor, I need your love.” We didn’t know how much longer our freedom would last before the cops found us.

  I took her long, slender, strong hands and laid them on my hardness. Our hearts began to pound. I turned around and she melted into my open arms, pushing against my groin. Our wet lips parted and our mouths opened to each other. The temperature in our bodies rose quickly as I led her toward the king size bed.

  Flashes of Jennifer bounced in my head as I fondled Jo’s breasts. She had her hands on me, stroking gently. What little self control I had left vanished immediately. She loosened my belt buckle. I had her blouse unbuttoned. Our mouths wanted to swallow each other up. She moved her soft hand inside my briefs. Her touch drove me crazy. I kissed the tops of her breasts and unsnapped her bra. I slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I nibbled on her nipples. She quickly unbuttoned my shirt and ripped it off my shoulders. She lowered her jeans and white panties simultaneously, while I managed to get my trousers and briefs off. We fell onto the bed. My erection was screaming and knocking at her pubic area, our lips and tongues cemented to each other, when a piercing knock entered our ears.

  Before either of us could move, the second knock rattled our ears. I felt Jo’s body stiffen. I sprang from the bed and tried to get my trousers on. Jo jumped up and grabbed her clothes, running to the bathroom. I managed to slip on my trousers, leaving the shirt outside my trousers to hide any bulge that wasn’t going away. The third and fourth knocks came in rapid succession. Before I managed to reach the French door handle with my trembling hand, three more knocks had echoed in my ears.

  Chapter 33

  THE LADY IN RED