by David Jobe
Delta shrugged. “You want to kill her, that’s your call. We can’t bring Alpha out of hiding, not with things so hot, so the honor of brood-mother would fall to you. You ready for that promotion?”
Charlie hissed at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s your fucking rule, ass-hat.”
“It is,” Echo confirmed from behind her glass.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Charlie eyed Delta with cold eyes and a sneer on her face.
“No. Because you are a bitch, and one of us would kill you. Then it would be my job. Just ease back on the throttle. You know she can’t make another one of us for another four hours, not matter how much of that garbage you shove down her throat. Twelve hours. That’s the line. Making her plump up like that just makes you the witch of Hansel and Gretel, nothing else.”
“We need an army.” Charlie stepped back to set the can of lard on a shoddy table behind where they had tied Bravo up.
“You need a chill pill. Plus, you keep making her scream like that, she’s going to bring someone asking questions.
“The basement is soundproof.” Charlie crossed her arms and gave a smirk.
“Really? By who? Was it a professional, or was it one of us?” When Charlie’s smile began to falter, she continued. “One of us then. Do you remember which one? I don’t think it was me. Was it you, Echo?”
Echo shook her head.
“Wouldn’t have been you, Charlie, because manual labor is beneath you. So, who did it?”
Charlie flopped down in a battered blue chair. “Fine. I’ll let up on her, but you are going to the meet tonight. I can’t deal with that kid in a dirt suit tonight.”
Delta rose and gulped down the last of her orange juice. “Would be my pleasure. This place smells so bad that you can’t wash the stink off with gasoline and a Brillo pad. When we get enough money, we need to buy a place big enough to accommodate all of us. And Bravo’s cats.”
Bravo sobbed in her chair, head down, but she nodded.
“Leave her be until I get back.” Delta moved towards the stairs.
Charlie waved a dismissing hand. “You aren’t the boss of me.”
Delta gave a little laugh. “Nor you of me.” She turned to look Charlie dead in the eyes. “Nor you of her.” She motioned towards Bravo. “You rule by majority vote for convenience sake. We could always take another vote.”
Charlie’s eyes grew wide, but she said nothing.
Delta nodded. They all knew that if they did do another vote, Charlie would end up in the hot seat. Somewhere along the line, she had mistaken people going alone as being subservient. There were no servants here. True, they were all henchwomen, but they could stage a revolt at any time.
Delta slipped out of the house, donning a gray Notre Dame hoodie before catching an Uber to the park where they were supposed to meet the Golem. She kept her head down as the driver asked a few probing questions before ultimately giving up. For a good twenty minutes, they sat in silence as various Shakira songs played back to back.
Night had fallen over the park and the cold had driven most people inside. When the driver asked if he wanted her to wait, she told him no. He gave her a wink and a nod and drove off. Perhaps he thought she was here for some sort of hook up. She would have preferred that. Looking around she saw that the only vehicle in the lot was an old van that looked like it might have broken down here. It had one of those stickers police put on cars to warn the owners the vehicle is in danger of being towed.
Delta moved around to the back of the rest area, finding the path that would lead them to the usual spot. She stopped just this side of the artistic statues that dominated the center of the walkway out of the rest stop. An older man crouched down to catch a kicked ball from the young boy while an older woman held an infant that Delta has always assumed was supposed to be a girl. Behind the crouching man, she herself crouched down, trying to stick to the shadows. She felt she needed to scope the place before she continued. Just beyond a pool of light from a lamppost, a tall and thick figure stood motionless. She could just make out the faint outline of a duffle bag beside the creature. It looks like the kid had actually come through. She would have to fork over fifty dollars of her portion to Echo. She waited a few minutes to see if anyone or anything else moved to alert her to an ambush. She doubted the kid would be that foolish, but after the debacle with the fat kid, she didn’t want to come explain why she had gotten herself killed without accomplishing her goal.
Nothing moved.
She rose and walked over toward the looking figure, feeling the sway come to her body as she did. She had no intentions of getting the kid behind the monster all excited, but she did love the feeling of being on the winning side for once. “I didn’t think you would show.” Her words came out with a slight purr to them. “Figured you’d turn tail and run.” She stepped into the pool of light.
From behind her, a pair of arms swept around her neck, as she could feel a something or someone press against the side of her head. Strong and very cold arms locked around her neck, putting her into a choke-hold. An angry gravelly voice whispered in her ear. “No running. I’m just getting started.”
For a moment she thought about resisting, but then realized there would be no point. The kid could kill her again and again and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. Instead, she managed to squeak out, “we will come for everything you love.”
“Then you better pack a shovel.”
Darkness took Delta.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Our Future Selves
The rich aroma of caramel macchiato pulled Chris from the world of the unconscious. He could hear a rhythmic pounding close by, the repetitive clap of what he assumed was palm to wood. Closer, he could hear the sound of paper rustling every so often. He opened his eyes but found the muted glow of the overhead fluorescents to be too much all at once. He grunted and raised his hands to cover his eyes.
“Rip Van Winkle is awake.” The voice feminine and familiar.
Pushing himself up, he moved to a sitting position with his back against the cold white wall. Still shielding his eyes, he scanned the room and found it to be his own. Trip’s bed lay neat and unoccupied. Nurse Ray sat in one of the orange plastic chairs that dominated the relaxation room. In one hand, she held a steaming cup of coffee and in the other, a book that she closed and put in her purse before he could get a look at the title. She wore simple tan slacks and a white button-up shirt, her hair in what he considered a professional ponytail. “How long was I out?”
“Nineteen years, give or take a few months.” She brought the coffee cup to her lips and took a dainty sip.
Chris rubbed his forehead, which appeared to be holding back a criminal who was at this very moment chiseling just behind his eyes in an attempt to escape. “That’s a long time.” He looked down at his arms, which were bare and unmarked. “Why am I not hooked up to an I.V. then?”
Silva’s face registered confusion, and then a slow dawning. “Oh, you mean those old plastic bags full of saltwater we used to hook people up to? With all the plastic tubes and connections that could get twisted, or just anyone could inject whatever nonsense they wanted? Yeah, those were outlawed about, oh, six years ago. Once the new medical bed technology came in that could use energy to sustain you, all that mess became not just obsolete, but torturous.”
“That makes sense. I mean, nineteen years ago doctors were slapping leeches on people to try and cure them of illness.”
“Thirty-eight years.” She took another sip and then smiled.
“What?”
“Thirty-eight years ago. Math’s not really your strong suit, is it?” She shook her head with a slight frown gracing her pretty lips.
This made Chris’ head hurt worse. “Not really. Why does my head hurt?”
Silva nodded and took another sip. “A side effect of the bed, unfortunately. Oddly enough, it seems to only affect the reckless and foolish. How it makes the distinction is bey
ond me.” She gave a small shrug.
Chris chuckled. “I thought my actions were dashing.”
“Most fools do.” She used her free hand to tap her knee now, like a parent waiting for her child to get to the point.
“You haven’t aged a day. Still as beautiful as ever. I guess in the future, they have the ability to stop aging?”
Silva laughed but a little red touched her cheeks, “Oh heavens no. People would get up to so much nonsense if we let them stay young forever.” She took another sip, possibly hiding a smile. “No, I am an android replica of the woman you knew. The doctor’s thought it would be best to have you wake up to a familiar face.”
Chris nodded, “It is a face I would prefer to wake up to.”
Silva’s cheeks reddened even more.
“But why do androids blush?”
She sat up straighter. “I am not blushing. It’s the regulators in my cheeks processing the coffee.”
“So, androids drink coffee?”
“What do you think we run on?”
“Sarcasm, maybe?”
“That’s our reserves.” She gave him a lopsided smile. As she raised her arm to take another sip, he noticed the white bandage running the length of her arm. Along the center of the rectangular patch, he could see the faintest trail of a red line.
“Androids bleed?”
Silva nodded. “Until we find John Connor’s mother, we do.”
Chris laughed, and even though it made his head hurt worse, he kept laughing. “Now that’s a thirty-nine-year-old reference. Were you even alive when that movie came out?”
“No. But there were a lot of remakes since you dozed off.”
“Same as it ever was.”
Silva nodded and took another sip.
“So, how long have I really been out?”
Silva frowned. Chris wasn’t sure if it was because he was no longer playing along, or because of what she was about to answer. “Three days.”
Chris whistled through his teeth. “That’s some mighty potent nighty-night juice you guys are using. Worth a fortune on the street, I am sure.”
Silva said nothing at first. She took a sip of her coffee and Chris could see her shoulders hunch. “Nurse Narvens hit you with close to three times the dosage. Seems she figured that since you were an Altered, that you would need more of it take effect. The fact that you didn’t die was amazing, but the fact that you fought off an attacker with it running through you is even more impressive.”
Chris nodded, rubbing his temples. “So, the one person who actually believed I had powers is the one who almost kills me. There’s irony or something in that.”
Silva leaned forward, holding the coffee cup in both hands now, her elbows resting on her knees. “About that. I am so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I wanted to believe you had powers, I really did, but you have no idea how many times I have heard variations of that line. You saved me and nearly died for it. All because I treated you like every other junkie that comes through here.”
Chris shook his head. “I am just like every other junkie that comes through here. Each has a reason they do what they do, and that’s still no reason to do it. I don’t blame you. Had it been old me talking to a junkie on the street during an investigation, I would have said the same thing. I might have even booked him. You at least tried to push me into doing better.”
She gave a smile that he felt wasn’t fully committed to. “Nurse Narvens is on suspension until a committee can review the incident and decide what to do. I imagine you could sue the hospital and get a large settlement if you wanted. I suspect she will be fired either way.”
“I don’t want to take money from people trying to help others. I might jack Nurse Narvens for her lunch money later, but I am not going to sue the hospital. Might make them give me a single bedroom though.” He laughed, looking around the small room. “What happened to Randall?”
“He’s at the infirmary at the prison waiting to be well enough to be brought before a judge. They won’t tell us what is wrong with him, but whatever it is, it’s pretty bad.”
Chris shrugged. “No worse than what he had in mind for you, or me.”
“You? What do you mean?”
“In my vision, when I told you that I would save you, it changed. I saw myself with that knife of his jabbed into my eye almost to the handle. That was to be my fate for interfering.” Chris laid his head back on the cold wall, letting it help soothe the headache.
Silva gasped. “So, you knew you would die trying to save me, yet you did it anyway?”
Chris gave a soft chuckle. “In my vision, the blade was still in my eye, all sword in the stone like. I figured that meant that if he stabbed me and left it, then there was a chance he didn’t go back after you. Might be that I just had to trade out who died to make it work. Truth be told, I am still so unsure of so many things when it comes to my powers. It still might be true if Randall dies. Might be I only postponed our deaths, and right now there is a force building up powers to correct that oversight.”
“That’s cheery.” But she gave a chuckle. “Still, an extra day, or three so far, is nothing to scoff at. I owe you, and I owe you big.”
“Do you now?” His tone became playful.
“Easy there, champ.” She smiled. “So, did you have another vision this time?”
Chris shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? Why not?”
“Well, in my visions, the dead usually talk to me. Well, except for you. You refused to say a word to me, but at least you moved around and offered clues. In my dream, I was in this thick fog walking around. All around me I could hear the sound of a riot or something. Screaming, fighting, and gunfire. I walked a bit further and I found thetree from one of my visions, but it had been ripped out of the ground and I think part of it was on fire. I walked further and I found the flying kid dead on the ground. Well, I found parts of him. His head had been cut clean off and was missing. I stumbled back from that and found my friend Lanton dead on the ground too. A gunshot wound to the head and the gun still in his hand. Like he had done the deed himself. And that’s not the Lanton I know. I ran from it all and just before I woke up, I stumbled onto what looked like a loading dock, but the metal door had been blown outward. Like something had escaped. I peered into the shole and heard this god awful noise. Like a scream or a growl, I am not sure. It wasn’t human though, and it was coming right for me. Then I woke up to your pretty android face.”
She gave him a polite smile and then seemed to realize she had been leaning in much closer than she had intended. She sat back up and smoothed out the legs of her slacks. “Still might be a vision. Sounds cryptic though. But speaking of your friend Lanton, he came by the other day. Wanted to check on you. He told me to tell you that he thinks he found the puppet masters. Any idea what that means?”
Chris shrugged. “Other than the horror movie reference, not really. Unless it has something to do with that tree in my vision. It had people real and wooden hanging from it. Small miniatures, but real. Maybe he meant that? He say anything else?”
Silva nodded and a slow smirk played across her lips. “He said to tell you that you helped save the girl’s life. The hanged one. That you can change the visions. I let him know you already knew that, and then explained. He was practically beaming when he left. Like you were his kid or something.”
Chris laughed. “Yeah. Lanton’s got a big heart. He didn’t mention the boy though, I take it. And my dream didn’t have her, but still had him with the same fate.” He chewed his lip. “There’s gotta be something in there that I can use to make sense of it all.”
Silva rose and came to place a hand on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled down at him. “I know you are trying to help, but you can’t take any more drugs. That stuff you are coming down from weakened you. You do even a lightweight substance, it could stop your heart. They wouldn’t even let us give you Tylenol for fear it would be the final n
ail. Promise me you won’t take anything.”
Chris nodded. “I won’t. I’ll try to work the case with what I have.”
She chuckled. “You sound like a cop.” She gave him a wink and began to gather up her purse. “Oh, I had an idea. Have you thought of sex?”
Chris blinked. “Um, you said what?”
She gave a delightful laugh and she turned her face away from him as her cheek turned a bright red. “I meant, to get the visions. Seems that almost any drug is doing it, and some of them don’t even work the same. Might just be an easy way to enter an alternate state of mind, when there are other methods to get there.”
Chris thought about that. “I haven’t. And I haven’t done that since I got my powers, so I am not sure. I’d first have to find someone who didn’t see me as a washed out cop and a junkie.”
Silva nodded, her back still turned. “There is that.” Then as she walked through the door she added, “Your coffee is on your nightstand.” With that, she turned and vanished out of sight.
Stunned and confused, he stared at the doorway for a while, unsure of what to make of that last bit. He turned to look at his nightstand and sure enough, he found a large coffee cup sitting there with “Thank You” written in black sharpie on the side. Picking it up he found that it was still hot. “Did she know when he would wake up, or had she been replacing that coffee for three days?” He stared at the doorway again and took a long swallow of his delicious coffee. He felt quite sure there would never be a coffee in the world that would ever measure up to the taste of that coffee.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Somewhere Safe
Head down. Mouth shut.
Julian continued down the side street, hands in his pockets while the cold wind pulled at his shirt collar. He still wore the shirt he had been given in Illinois. The Indiana winter had begun to make itself known, causing him to shiver. Every breath he took came out as dragon smoke, curling around his face as he strode forward. They had refused to give him a ride back, saying he could just teleport himself there if he wanted. No one he had spoken to at the police station had believed anything he said or seemed to believe he was anything more than a sideshow freak. He suspected even now that they were using up their stores of Lysol to clean off everything they thought he might have touched.