by Eddie Jakes
The baby …
Where the hell am I?
Tara couldn't remember why she was standing in front of the kitchen sink with the warm water running. She couldn't remember how long she was standing there, either, but the water had overflowed and spilled onto her bare feet. That was enough to break her out of her trance.
After turning the water off and looking around for a moment, Tara walked back into the living room. She could see her friends were still sprawled out all over the floor and furniture. All the usual gang was here, and she tried to remember their names, but couldn't.
Who are these people?
Waving them off, Tara attempted to empty her head. She was trying to do something before she spaced out in front of the sink in the kitchen.
Why would I turn the water on?
It was obvious she needed water for something. Did she have to wash her hands or face? No. She would have gone to the bathroom for that. People didn't groom themselves in the kitchen, did they?
When she was really young, she remembered her mom would wash her in the kitchen sink because it was so big, and she had a bad back, so using the bathtub was torture for her. They used to have so much fun, splashing each other and floating her toys in the water.
Baby?
Tara tightened her hand and felt something round and plastic. Glancing down, she saw a baby's bottle with the residue of formula collecting on the bottom. That’s it! She was going to feed the baby, and she must have hit the smack a little too hard.
Returning to the kitchen, she mixed the formula with water and then made her way upstairs to the baby's room. She started to hum a lullaby that her mother used to sing to her as she walked through the door.
"Gigi? Baby? Mama's brought you some dinner."
Silence. Gigi must still be sleeping, Tara thought.
"Baby girl? Wake up, it's time to eat."
Tara peered over the crib and looked for her little girl. She seemed like an angel with her eyes closed and her tiny mouth pursed. Tara's half jumbled mind was so taken by the view that she didn't notice the smell at first, but when it did register, it walloped her like a freight train.
"Gigi!" shouted Tara, while shaking the baby's tiny little arm.
She didn't wake.
"Baby!"
She didn't move.
"Oh my God, no!"
She didn't breathe.
"No!"
She was gone.
Tara frantically picked up her child and cradled her. She was cold and stiff, her perfect face frozen forever in her peaceful expression.
After drinking his second beer and watching Tanya finish her second helping of barbecue ribs, Maddix started to worry about Tara. She hadn't come back from the bathroom yet, so he decided to check on her just to make sure she wasn't having another vomiting spell or worse. Tara appeared to be doing so much better, but Maddix still wasn't going to mark her as out of the woods yet. He would have preferred she stayed behind with Shepard, but he couldn't keep himself from nurturing her drive. They were all going to need that kind of passion going forward on this mission that they had set out on.
At about three feet from the hallway leading down to the restrooms, Maddix could hear the faint sobbing coming from behind the ladies’ room door. He quickened his pace and knocked on the door, calling out her name.
"Just a second," said Tara with a sniffle.
The door opened and Tara stepped out, trying to keep a stoic expression despite her glassy-eyed appearance.
"What happened in there? You feel okay?"
Apparently unable to hold anything back, Tara slumped back against the wall and slid down into a fetal position. She could no longer stop herself from crying so she buried her face into her arms and unleashed her sadness into her sleeves. Maddix quickly sat next to her and placed his arm around her shoulders for comfort.
It was obvious to him what had happened, so he gave her a minute until the crying was down to a minimum.
"You remembered something? Something wrong?"
"Yes," murmured Tara, wiping her face. "I remember everything."
Maddix squeezed her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The gesture seemed to calm her enough to talk.
"I'm a horrible person. I'm a junkie. A filthy drug addict."
He didn't know what to say. He had his suspicions. They all did once they left Malevolent and watched Tara's body fall apart before their eyes.
"I threw away my life, my family, and my child. I killed her. I killed my own baby."
"Oh my God, Tara."
She began to cry again. This time, she hammered her knees in frustration.
Maddix grabbed her hands and held them. "We are all horrible people, Tara. You, me, and Javier. The constables, too, I think. The more I remember and the more I learn about myself—"
"But why us?"
"Is everything okay over here?" a waitress asked, looking down at them sitting on the floor.
"Yes," responded Maddix. "Family tragedy today. We just need a moment."
"Of course," replied the waitress with a concerned smile.
Maddix watched her leave before continuing. "I think that's why we were picked. Whoever planned this, needed us to make it work. So they picked the biggest losers they could find in the hopes that we would screw everything up and make it easy for them to escape."
"Well, it worked."
"I guess you're right."
"I don't think I can go on knowing everything, Maddix. This is too painful to carry around."
"I know. My guess is whoever planned all this took that into consideration. It's not so easy to try and be heroes when the reality is we are just a bunch of basket cases.”
"I want to die," sobbed Tara, as she buried her head in shame yet again.
Maddix hopped up and knelt before Tara. Gently lifting her head up, he placed his fingertips on her cheeks.
"When I was at the library, one of the things that the man in the message said, was that nothing about the past matters anymore. The only thing that matters is what we do from now on. We aren't those people anymore, Tara."
"I can't just forget—"
"And you never will. But, when you add it all up, we've been given a second chance at a clean slate and an opportunity to redeem ourselves."
"How?"
"By saving the world."
After contemplating this for a moment, Tara nodded at Maddix. "Okay, let's save the world. But afterward, I still want to die. There is no redemption for someone like me."
"Fair enough. There might not be redemption for any of us when all is said and done."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Once the initial shock of seeing Ephrain's altered appearance subsided, Craig was back to his sarcastic self. They had spent the better part of the afternoon moving cases of rust-colored chemicals from his apartment and integrating them with the shipment of spinal fluid.
Picking up crates and moving them around was clearly not something Craig could get used to, but Ephrain found the chore to be quite easy with his newfound strength and dexterity. His muscles no longer felt any pain when exerting force and the repetitive actions never left him feeling winded. It was as if he had an unlimited surplus of energy and strength at his disposal now.
Although he didn't want to show off all his cards in front of Craig, Ephrain occasionally would test himself by lifting obscenely heavy objects or executing daring acrobatics. Craig was certainly impressed by these simple parlor tricks but paid it little mind overall as he was more concerned with the learning of this new plan that he had yet to tell him.
"In due course," he had said.
The shipment had to take priority to ensure his supremacy in the new world he envisioned.
"Fuck me," shouted Craig.
"What is it now?"
"What the living fuck is this stuff? It smells like death."
He looked over to see Craig waving an open bottle of the solution under his nose. This really annoyed Ephrain, and his first instinct was just to gra
b the insignificant prick by the hair and pour the entire contents down his throat. Unfortunately, he needed him for the next phase of his plan.
"Put that back, you idiot. You'll melt your face off."
"Gladly," scoffed Craig, and put the cap back on the bottle. "This nasty shit is medicine? That's what that creepy guy said. Stillwel?"
"You could say that. It's a little surprise for my former employers."
"Did they fire you or something? Thought you were some big shot pharmacist for them?"
"Just nail the crate shut and get it ready. We have some business with your boss later."
Craig was about to start hammering when Ephrain's statement registered.
"Hold on. My boss?"
"Yes, Craig. I need you to take me to the man I've been doing business with. I have some things I would like to discuss with him that I think will be mutually beneficial."
"Hey, I thought you wanted to go rogue on this. Mr. Hodge isn't going—"
Craig was cut off by Ephrain's hand gripping him by the throat and lifting him into the air.
"Now listen to me, Craig. You've been doing superb work today and I'm more than willing to have you on this little journey of mine, but I assure you that it is in your best interest to listen to me when I speak to you. Understood?"
Craig's face was turning blue, and he could barely manage a nod before Ephrain released him. He lay on the floor desperately sucking in oxygen and rubbing his throat.
"Shall we go now?"
Ephrain grabbed his coat and twirled his hat onto his head with a flourish.
Thorbert Hodge was a stocky man with balding hair and a constant snarl on his face. It was rumored that he never smiled due to being born without the necessary muscles in his mouth to do so. Few that had seen childhood pictures of the man would confirm that it was rare to see so much as a half-hearted grin in any family portrait he took part in. It was if the man was genetically predisposed to be a cold, hard gangster.
That wasn't to say Hodge was heartless. He’d had many loves in his life that had come and gone, but to say that his one true love was power was an unequivocal truth. He did enjoy the fruits of his labor. Hodge had created a small empire in the northeast part of the country. His import and export business was equal to some of the largest mafia families in New York or Los Angeles. If you needed it, Hodge could find it at the best quality and the best price. He prided himself on being both an entrepreneur and a public servant at the same time.
A lot of his mob acquaintances tended to look down on his drug trafficking but stayed out of his territories nonetheless out of respect and honor. Nobody ever got killed that didn't deserve it, and the public didn't get caught in his crossfire of a gang war. It was bad press, as far as Hodge was concerned. Keep the peace and you keep your clientele happy.
Thorbert also had a talent for surrounding himself with the best people. He never did business with anyone that he did not look into himself. Even conducted interviews like any other large corporation seeking to fill upper management positions. When it came to sniffing out undercover agents or rats looking for someone to blackmail, Hodge was the best at it. To him, success was a large part talent and the rest was connections, and he was profoundly connected with the most influential and productive.
"Mister Hodge?"
Thorbert looked at his bodyguard standing behind him with his mobile phone to his ear; he appeared confused and slightly annoyed.
"What is it?"
"It's Jerico. He's got that pharmacist with him, and he's insisting on seeing you."
"Tell him to fuck off. He knows the rules."
The guard relayed the message, and the irritated sound of Craig's voice escaped from the speaker. "He's saying that he changed the terms of the deal?"
This annoyed Hodge. What the hell is that little bastard trying to say?
"Let that little fucker in, but load up, fellas."
The guard finished with Craig and put his phone away. The other guard was already checking for rounds in his pistol and pulled his slide back before holstering. The first guard followed suit and watched the door.
It didn't take long for a knock on the office door. Opening the French doors, the guard motioned for Craig and Ephrain to enter. Hodge had never met Ketter in person before, so this was violating every personal code that he lived by, but then again, the man made him more money in the drug trade than he ever did slinging smack to the addicts.
Hodge couldn't get a good look at Ketter's face due to the big hat and long coat he wearing. From the expressions on his guards' faces, though, he figured that he must have been deformed or something. Made sense to Hodge. Seemed like all the freaks made the best product.
"Gentlemen, you'll forgive me if I sound a little pissed-off," said Hodge in the calmest voice he could manage. He didn't like to yell.
"How's it going, boss?" mumbled Craig. "Been one hell of a night, eh? Super busy out there. In fact—"
"Would you mind shutting the fuck up and getting to the point?"
"Oh yeah. Well … Mr. Ketter here would like to speak to you. I told him it might be an inopportune time, but … you know? He insisted."
Hodge noticed Craig was incredibly nervous. As he should be, considering that Hodge had strict rules about unscheduled meetings. Strangely, though, his guards seemed almost equally nervous.
"Step closer into the light please, Mr. Ketter."
He obeyed and raised his head up to give Hodge a full view of his face. Thorbert Hodge flinched for the first time in his life at what he was seeing.
"Jesus!" proclaimed Hodge.
"Good evening, sir," said Ephrain, in as delightful a tone as he could. His voice kept humming with some supernatural force that made it eerie to everyone's ears.
"How can I help you today, Ketter? Is there a problem with the trucks I arranged for you?"
"No, sir. Everything is wonderful. You've been a great help to my former employers and me. But now I am here to change some of the terms of our arrangement."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I would like you to turn over the shipping docks, the drug distribution, and all authority over your men to me. In exchange, I will allow you to live as you are, and work for me as one of my governing lieutenants so to speak."
This was too much for Hodge to handle and his face turned red. "I think that you are overestimating things here. You make an excellent product, and our relationship has been mutually beneficial—"
"Indeed," interrupted Ephrain. "Which is why I'm making you this offer instead of just killing you and taking it."
"If you think for a moment that you are so far up the food chain that you can engage in some bullshit coup d'état, you have another think coming. Kill this piece of shit!”
Neither guard hesitated in opening fire on Ephrain. Bullet holes erupted throughout his body and drops of blood began to eat through his coat like acid. Ephrain stood there and smiled the whole time.
"Holy shit!" one of the guards exclaimed.
Ephrain turned to them and looked down at his right arm as it oozed with smoky black blood. His smile turned into an evil grimace, and he began to flick his fingers toward their faces, spraying the toxic blood onto their skin. It wasn't long before their faces began to dissolve so fast that they could barely get a scream out before becoming melted corpses on the ground.
Craig could not contain himself and began to vomit onto the floor.
"Disgusting," said Ephrain, turning to Hodge.
Thorbert had already ducked behind his desk and was frantically rummaging through his drawers for his gun. Not that it appeared to be of much use against whatever the hell Ketter was.
"Mr. Hodge?" called out Ephrain.
"Stay the fuck away from me! You fucking freak!"
"About my offer?"
Hodge stopped rummaging and thought about his options. This wasn't about pride anymore, it was about survival. Slowly he rose up from behind the desk. He winced at the view of Ephrain's c
hest, which was fully exposed now that his clothing had almost completely burned away.
"Okay. Yeah. I think we can make a deal. Anything you want."
"You misunderstood me. I was about to say that my deal is off the table."
That last thing that Thorbert Hodge would see was Ephrain Ketter leaping onto his desk and grabbing his head with both hands to allow the acid to burrow into his skull.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It may have been arrogance, but Krazek couldn't help but pat himself on the back for keeping up the ruse for as long as he had. There were some hiccups along the way, but the werewolves unconditional surrender to him as their leader was still high. At least enough to hunt down the overseer and his group.
It had been a quiet five years since leaving Malevolent and Krazek had to admit that he was growing bored. It felt good to have a challenge again; to be able to test the limits of his power without the blasted curse of that prison robbing him of his magic. Without it, he was nothing more than a worthless old man.
There was one good thing about his time in the prison: the dark arts had all but faded into nothing. Sure there were small-time hobbyists here and there, but no dedicated sorcerers or wizards for him to engage in competition. He was surely the last, and once the plan was unraveled he would lay claim to a decent sized part of the world and establish the first magical utopia.
Back to the business of werewolves and crushing their enemies. One thing he had not planned for was the return of that weak bitch of a pack leader, Tanya. She would be a problem for him if they ended up one-on-one. To beat her, he would be forced to use his power and unveil everything to the clan. They would certainly turn on him at that point, and they outnumbered him enough that his magic wouldn't suffice to kill them all before overpowering him.
If only Ephrain's experiments worked, he thought. Then they would have some kind of army to use for just these situations. He had to get back to him as soon as possible and update him on the situation. First, he would have to give the wolves a little task to keep them busy. One that would be beneficial to all of them.