by Matt Betts
“Fuck, what the hell is going on here?” Harper asked. She stepped to Mike’s side looking at the blood on his chin. It was obvious that she wasn’t quite sure Mike was going to come out on top. “Let’s just go,” she told him. “Let’s stop this.”
Mike shoved Harper away, knocking her to the ground. “Get away,” he said.
Deena looked at Harper, sitting on the ground. Her whole body suddenly felt like concrete was flowing through her bloodstream. “Bad idea, jackass. Bad idea,” she said. She stepped toward Mike, both hands flexing to make them feel less stiff.
“Fuck you.” Mike’s voice sounded unstable and wobbly. Deena wondered if he might be on the verge of crying.
Mike stepped quickly toward Deena, his first punch going just past her head. Deena let his momentum carry him past her and planted her elbow in his back. He cried out again and turned to face her, just in time for Deena to punch him directly on the nose. He stumbled back and fell, blood started to drip from his nostrils and then the drip became a flood. His legs went limp and Deena was thrilled that everyone in the crowd got to watch him fall on his butt.
“What the fu…” Again he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Deena was on him, knocking him on his back. He put his hands up to block the blows, but it didn’t help, Deena punched around them. She landed punch after punch on his face, ears and throat.
“Just tell her the truth you fucking dickbag,” Deena yelled over Mike’s screams.
It was like a dream to Deena; something that she was watching without the ability to control.
Harper grabbed Deena’s right forearm as she prepared for the next blow. “Deena. Look,” she said quietly between clenched teeth.
Deena didn’t turn immediately. She struggled a little to free her arm then followed her sister’s gaze. Deena’s knuckles and right hand had turned dark, it was obvious even through the rusty hue of Mike’s blood.
When Harper looked to Mike, he was moaning. His face was cut to ribbons, part of his earlobe was lying on the ground next to him. “Christ Deena…” Harper said. “What the fuck? What did you do?”
Deena shrugged off Harper’s grip, stepped up to Mike and kicked him in the ribs. “Tell her now.” Her voice was strained with anger.
Mike’s only response was a wet gurgle. Deena wondered how badly she had hurt him. She kept looking at her arm. It looked like someone had painted it black with a Sharpie.
Harper grabbed Deena again, this time forcing Deena to look her in the eye. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it later. We really should just go.”
Deena’s eyes narrowed. “He fucked Heidi Connors after the game on Friday.” The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. “Right in the parking lot. Then he came and picked you up from work and took you out bowling or some shit, didn’t he?” Deena thought she might kick Mike again.
The color drained from Harper’s face, but it was hard to tell if it was because of the news or the sight of Mike’s beaten and battered form on the ground. “Let’s just go. Let’s just go home,” Harper said. She turned and pushed her way through the stunned crowd.
Deena looked at Mike again. “Asshole.” She followed her sister through the crowd and wiped her hands on her pants. No one said a word and no one tried to stop her. The darkness on her arm faded slowly.
Two days later, Mike died in the hospital and Deena convinced Harper to run away with her.
19
Garrett stood as still as he could make himself and glared at Rivers and Rice. “Seriously? That’s the story you’re sticking to? You’re interested in this girl mainly because her sister is a witch? Like a real, pointy-hat-wearing, black-cat-having, broom-riding witch?” Garrett was already regretting letting Pel talk him into meeting with the mysterious agents again. They’d called Rivers and Rice the next morning, followed their directions and eventually ended up waiting in a walkway that crossed over Eastern Avenue to the mall. Eventually, Rice showed up and led them to an SUV driven by Rivers. When everyone was in, the vehicle took off. It was all too cloak and dagger for Garrett’s tastes, but he let it go, hoping things would make more sense soon. No such luck. “Are you shitting me?”
“You weren’t really listening were you? We don’t think she’s a witch, we just think she has an unusual power.” Rivers held up a tablet, which Pel quickly took and started tinkering with.
“I’m no scientist but it looks like your only conclusion to these crimes involves magic. Locked doors, heavily guarded cells, armored cars. All of these things seem foolproof but people still got killed, money stolen, whatever,” Pel said.
“No, that’s not our conclusion. Those stats are from various police departments and agencies around the country. They list the crimes as unsolved and/or open,” Rice said. “We know exactly what happened.”
“Rogue tooth fairy?” Garrett asked.
Pel laughed.
The conversation went nowhere, until they pulled into an old parking garage on the west side. It was crumbling, with graffiti on the walls and a number of cars in disrepair on the first floor. As they drove around in a circle that led them to the next floor down, there were more dark SUVs, unmarked cars and plain white vans.
“Follow me,” Rivers stepped out when the vehicle came to a halt and motioned everyone to the nearby elevator. Pel and Garrett fell in behind with Rice in the very back. As soon as Rivers stepped in front of the elevator, the doors opened and they entered. The doors closed and the elevator started descending on its own, no buttons pushed.
“This is getting a little too ‘Mission Impossible’ for me,” Garrett said. “What in the hell is going on?” He said it more to himself, rather than as a question to the agents who’d brought them there. Truth be told, he was now more intrigued than annoyed. The secret underground base put him over the top. The FBI, as a rule, was pretty mundane. There was an office, or field office, desks, security guards and so on. There was nothing cool about it. Nothing intriguing or mysterious. Agents showed up. They did their jobs. Kind of ho hum. Whatever happened with Rivers and Rice, at least it wasn’t boring.
The elevator stopped abruptly a few seconds later and the doors slid open again. A small, bare room awaited them with just a single uniformed guard with an assault rifle. The man nodded to Rivers and a new door opened onto a long, narrow, hall. After another door, they all stepped out onto an elevated metal walkway that went all around a huge circular room. Below, in the middle, was an expanse full of desks, computer monitors, and uniformed personnel.
“This way,” Rivers said and opened a door by sliding a badge across a lighted panel. In the next room, Garrett saw several men standing around a table in lab coats and goggles. Along the walls, more men sat at computers and microscopes, none looked up. Garrett noticed a bank of monitors on the far wall. Two had maps; another had what seemed to be a close up of a drop of oil.
“What’s going on here? Seriously, it’s just one thing after another with you guys. If you’ve got something that will help us understand what’s going on, great. If you don’t, we’ll just take our tape that you snaked and be on our way.” Garrett said.
Rice ignored the question. “See the map on the right? The red dots represent crimes that we’re pretty sure one of these subjects is responsible for.”
Garrett looked up and squinted. He guessed there were close to one hundred of them. “So it’s not just this girl you think we’re dealing with.” He found himself biting on the premise that this girl was a killer, but not that she was supernatural.
Rivers pointed to the other map. It had far fewer dots on it. “We believe these nineteen are all the work of this one girl. We can’t be sure but they seem to fit the pattern and we have some inside information on things this girl has been assigned to do.”
“If you have someone on the inside, why not drop the hammer and arrest the girl, why all the cloak and dagg
er X-Files bullshit?” Pel sounded just as confused as Garrett felt.
“We’re working on it. We’ve only just established the informant. We can’t spook him.” Rice absently added to the conversation while he scanned the map.
“And this informant tells you the girl is a magical fairy?” Every time he started to feel comfortable with the agents, the same nagging concerns came back to Garrett; he had no idea who these guys were and they had some fairly messed up ideas. “I think your informant is already spooked. Spooked in the head.”
“No. The girl has some of the same traits as others we’ve come into contact with and captured,” Rice said. He pointed up to the blob on the screen.
“What’s that?” Pel asked.
Rivers leaned over to one of the men at the computers. “Can you pull back on screen two?’
The image got further away a little at a time until it was obvious that the blob was on someone’s arm.
“Is that a birthmark?” Garrett asked.
“Bad tattoo?” Pel suggested.
“Good guesses.” Rivers stepped to an open terminal and typed for a moment. The map of all the crimes disappeared and showed a picture of a large black blob writhing on a table. “Near as we can guess it’s some kind of parasite.”
“Wait. That blob is what you got when you removed the tattoo?” Pel put her hand to her mouth. “There’s one of these inside the girl you’re looking for? Ewww.”
“We think so. Her and others,” Rice said. “We call these people Incubators, or Inks for short.”
“Better than calling them ’Bators, I suppose,” Pel cracked. She still managed to look disgusted at the images.
Garrett stepped up. “But, if you have this one, that means you can remove these…”
“Parasites,” Rice said.
“Leech thingies,” Pel corrected.
Garrett didn’t care what they were called, really. He was more interested in the end result. If the agency knew about these things, there must be something they could do about them. “If you can remove them, then the people they infected can go back to normal, right?”
Rice and Rivers looked at each other for a moment.
Garrett pointed up at the screen with the blob on it. “How many people have you removed these things from?”
“Total? Twelve,” Rivers said. “We’ve studied twelve subjects that were good candidates and we went ahead with surgeries to remove the parasites.”
“How many survived the process?” Garrett asked.
“None,” Rice and Rivers said in unison.
“As soon as they’re removed, the Ink, or host dies,” Rice continued. “Every time.”
Garrett walked around looking at screens and charts, but his mind glazed over quickly at the technology and gizmos. His phone gave him a headache; this stuff was a thousand times worse. He walked over to the image of the blob that the agents had pointed out. It was one thing to arrest criminals and punish them for crimes, but this… catching people with things growing inside them. It wasn’t something he was trained for. “What’s it made of? It was analyzed right?”
“Nothing came up. We have no idea what it is. The organic material doesn’t match up to anything we know. We keep thinking it might be an actual parasite, an animal or insect of some kind, but once it’s removed, it turns to goo. Mostly water actually.”
“Really? You’ve taken these people apart and all you know is that if you remove the mass, the people die?” Garrett thought the mass looked like a pile of raspberry yogurt.
“We can’t say much about the material, but we know a little about the Inks themselves. The most useful thing we’ve gleaned from incarcerating these people is that they seem to be able to detect each other within a certain proximity.” Rice shrugged. “They go a little nuts when one of their own kind is around. Learned that the hard way when we captured two Inks at once.”
“That’s helpful.” Garrett looked at each of the people in the files. He didn’t recognize any of them. Never busted them for petty crimes or anything larger. “I suppose the question that remains is where did these things come from and how did they get there?”
“Yes. That is the question,” Rice said.
Pel was right at home with all of the computers and tech that gave Garrett the willies. She’d quietly asked if she could sit at a terminal and nudged a technician out of the way. She tapped away madly at the keyboard. A beep and a warning screen stopped her progress. “Password?”
Rivers and Rice looked at each other. “You don’t have clearance yet.”
“So give it to her,” Garrett said.
“You’re onboard?”
“I think we are,” Pel said. She looked to Garrett for confirmation.
“So let me get this straight, you want me come help you track down this freaky powerful girl and her friends? You guys are like the Men in Black and I’m Will Smith?”
The other three agents all chuckled at once.
“What?” Garrett asked.
Pel spoke up. “I wouldn’t say Will Smith. Wow. Vain much?”
“Samuel L. Jackson in the Avengers?” Rivers asked.
“Not even,” Rice laughed.
“Fine. I’m in. But if you don’t get a little more forthcoming, I’m out quickly.” Garrett looked back up at the screens and hoped he wasn’t making an incredibly stupid decision. If it led to getting criminals off the street, he was all for it. If he started chasing aliens and chupacabras, he was going to feel like an idiot.
“Great, but did it sound like I was giving you a choice? My fault. We talked to your higher ups already and had you transferred. Your stuff is being brought over right now. It’s a done deal.” Rivers said. “Welcome to the FEI.”
Pel and Garrett gave each other a glance.
“Done deal? Then why were you jerking us around about joining up? Just say you’re borrowing us and move on.” Garrett didn’t like the start to this new employment relationship. If they were giant bastards about things from the beginning, what was in store down the road?
“And did you just say FBI?” Pel asked. “It sounded like…”
“FEI. Federal Entity Index. We investigate the validity of aberrant people and other creatures.” Rice corrected.
“Like little green men?” Garrett asked.
Pel shrugged. “And witches?”
“Something like that,” Rice said. He pulled two small boxes from his suit jacket and handed one each to Pel and Garrett. Inside were business cards with their names and phone numbers. “You’d still be working for your government. Same pay. Same health insurance. All that crap doesn’t change. Let’s go get you set up at your desks.”
“What about vacation? Sick days?” It seemed to be all Pel could think to ask.
Rice pointed down the hall. “Human resources is right down that hall. They’ll have all the answers.”
Garrett looked up from his cards and watched the others leave the room. He and Pel already had cards and desks. The FEI seemed pretty sure he and Pel were going to be OK with moving to a new organization. He made a mental note as to where Rice said the HR office was as he put the cards in his pocket. With a sigh, he followed the others.
20
Morgan entered The Ground Up through the back entrance, staying as casual as he could. He felt naked walking around without his rifle, and found himself patting his denim jacket to make sure the pistol was still in the holster underneath it. He was also cognizant of the buck knife in his right boot, the small dagger strapped to his forearm and brass knuckles in his back pocket.
Harper’s handler, Wallace, assured him the tracking device in Deena’s backpack was working perfectly. Wallace had hidden it there at Marsh’s behest when Deena started going missing and they began to worry the girls would run away. Across the street f
rom the coffee house, Wallace was waiting in the SUV and Morgan was thrilled he didn’t suggest coming in to help.
The place was pretty much empty, just a lone laptop guy at a booth and a young woman standing at the counter waiting for her order. Morgan casually stared at the menu for a moment, then the travel mugs and other crap on the back wall. Out of the corner of his eye he looked around to make sure he hadn’t missed anyone in a dark corner.
He followed the arrow on a restroom sign to see the door to the women’s room wide open. He felt the muscles in his back relax and he sighed in relief. As the woman walked off with her coffee, Morgan smiled and stepped forward. “Hi—” he paused to look at the kid-behind-the-counter’s nametag. “Hi, Kevin. How’s it going? Can I get a…” he looked back at the menu. “A large mega mocha?”
“You mean a vendi Mocha Mega?” Kevin said with a half-smile.
Morgan’s eyes narrowed and he patted his jacket. “Right.”
“Anything else?”
Morgan looked at the large glass case next to the cash register. “How about one of those blueberry scones? Those look good.”
“It’s actually raspberry, do you still want it?”
Morgan looked around and fixed his eyes on the guy with the laptop. He could be a witness. Morgan decided to play it cool since he needed the kid. Needed the information he might have. “Yes. That’s fine.”
Morgan heard footsteps behind him and assumed someone had come in through the back door just as he had. He casually started to turn to get a look at them.
“You’re going to order a girly drink like that?” It was his mentor’s voice. “Nice skirt, Sally. Want him to put an umbrella and a little slice of fruit in it, too?”