by Michael Todd
The reason why he stared at the very blurry image was that it was the only shot of the creature from the front and thus gave him an unimpeded if fuzzy view of the thing’s head. The specialist had obviously panicked and perhaps thought that the creature had looked directly at him, but with eyes mounted like that on such an odd skull, it had clearly already seen the man and looked around to identify any other threats.
He made another note that the eyes’ positioning on the skull indicated an herbivorous diet, although he put a question mark on that. It was clear that this was not the animal that had attacked and killed the specialist in question, but it was still new. Nothing in the database indicated the existence of something like this, which made Sal wonder how much the discovery was worth.
There were sections of the animal that certainly classified it as a “rare species”—the kind that weren’t already existing creatures with logical enhancements to size, strength, and agility, but were actually combinations of different creatures as well as additions that weren’t even on record for existing animals. Rare animals were those that also brought in the heftiest paydays. It was difficult to really say what these creatures were capable of, but Sal felt that this sort of thing was what he was supposed to be both fascinated and terrified by.
It was his favorite combination.
The whitepaper had begun to take shape. Thankfully, whoever the late specialist was, they had been thorough in their documentation of the animals that they encountered. While the creature that he was looking at was the only one of note, there were also a number of additions he needed to make to some of the animals that were already in the database.
He looked outside, surprised to see that the sun had already set. Time really did seem to fly when he had fun. He leaned back in his seat, and the cheap office chair that had been provided with the apartment squealed under the strain.
Why had Madigan felt the need to come to him when he was asleep? Was she drunk and simply in need of a fuck? Did she not want to wake him? Did she think that if she woke him, he might not be in the mood?
Well, she would have had a point, he realized. To wake him in the middle of a nap was a gamble. He’d either wake up willing and able or angry and sleepy.
He stretched his arms above his head and groaned lazily. His nap hadn’t had the intended effect, and he already felt weary. That added to the fact that he would probably not have another good night’s sleep for what could be up to a week in the Zoo meant that he might want to simply complete this whitepaper, enter it into the database, and check if the payment came through in the morning. Madigan would understand if he put off their meeting.
Then again, he realized that, too, was something of a lottery. Of the Russian variety.
He put a note on the creature’s apparent lack of six limbs in a separate file. He wanted to add enough to the database for him and the squad to get their payday, but he also wanted to retain the more complete store of information about the animals in the Zoo for himself. Nothing that might compromise the lives of the soldiers in there, but definitely the kind that would bring profit once he was able to complete his collection.
Holy shit, he hoped that his selective sharing of information didn’t put lives in danger.
As she opened her eyes, she dreaded the sensation of light that seared her eyeballs. The darkness that greeted her was an intense relief.
It was the only kind of relief that she would have for a while, she mused. A vague sensation of vertigo filled her body, followed quickly by the very familiar feeling of nausea. Her mouth was dry, and her body ached vaguely all over.
“Damn it,” she murmured and pushed herself up from the ground. She’d tried to get to bed, at least, which showed that she’d had some presence of mind. Still, she hadn’t been that drunk. Drunker than she’d ever been before—she could concede that much—but nothing like the stories she’d heard from her friends in the sorority that her mother had pressured her to join of how they’d blacked out. Memories of what had happened while she was drunk were unclear, but they were there.
The relief that washed over her was quickly pushed aside when she realized that her thighs were sore as well as what lay between them. She hadn’t been a prude in college, despite that she never drank as much as her “sisters” had, and she knew that feeling very well, even though she hadn’t experienced it in a while.
The memory of where it had come from rushed in too. The feeling of need as she’d stepped into Sal’s apartment. Her lowered inhibitions had overridden her moral compass to allow her to take what she’d wanted, no matter the fact that he hadn’t even been conscious enough to know what she’d given, nor by whom it had been given.
The memory of him hardening in her hand brought that need back to her, but there was also a sensation of disgust that pushed it easily to the back of her mind.
“Holy shit,” she whispered and rubbed her temples, which now pounded painfully. “What the hell did I do? Although he was happy to be involved and he’d moaned and helped me along.”
She stumbled to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, then hunted for aspirin to take with it. It would very likely bring little relief, but it would have to be enough. She needed her mind clear.
“What can you offer a guy to make him forget the fact that you essentially raped him?” she wondered aloud as she gulped the pill and water down. “I mean, I could always not tell him. The fact that I didn’t wake up in cuffs tells me that he didn’t call the authorities.” That said, there was no way to know exactly what and how much he remembered. It could all be a dream to him, or he could remember everything.
It was a risk that she would have to take. She couldn’t keep this to herself, especially if she wanted to work with him. Shit. Them. Did she have to tell Kennedy? Well, maybe Sal could do that for her and spare her the trouble.
She needed a shower first, though. Courtney quickly stripped off the clothes that she still wore from the day before and stepped into the shower. She sighed as she felt hot water wash over her bare skin and almost hoped that it would help change her mind about what she had to do, but no such luck.
“Fuck,” she whispered and scrunched her eyes tightly closed.
Madigan shook her head. The alcohol had begun to clear from her system, and despite her best efforts to rehydrate herself, she still hadn’t managed to ward off all the effects of the drinking. Her mouth felt like the desert outside, and she knew the vague pounding that had started in her head would only get worse.
There was only one hope now, and that was that she wouldn’t still be hung over come morning. Which meant she had to get some food and water in her system.
She shook her head, dressed again, and headed to the mess hall. The place wasn’t as busy as it could have been, she realized. It was already past rush hour. Most folks came to eat around six or seven, and it was already eight-thirty.
Despite the fact that her stomach rebelled against each bite, she forced herself to eat, and thankfully, it seemed to settle a little more with each mouthful.
Her cure had already begun to work.
She complimented the meal of mashed potatoes, steak, and string beans with soda to help ease her sensitive stomach further.
There was still no promise that she would function efficiently in the morning. Then again, if she was hung over, it wouldn’t be the first time she went out into the Zoo absolutely wasted. In fact, when she thought about it, there were more than a few of her earlier trips of which she had no memory of the first day or so.
She smirked. Rose-tinted goggles or not, those had been good times. Still, she felt like times were about to get better. She smirked, pushed to her feet, and once she’d punched her use of the mess hall in, she left. Fucking freelancing meant she was charged for everything she used. It was par for the course when it came to government-run facilities, and this place was no different. It still stung given the many years’ service she had behind her.
Madigan stepped outside and breathed in the cool deser
t air.
“What do you know?” she said to herself. “I do feel better.” Was it weird that the more time she spent with Sal, the more she talked to herself? She wondered if he realized he did it. There had been a few times when she’d spend the night and woke up to him muttering like he was in the middle of an argument with himself.
Then again, she had seen him argue with other people. She would never tell him to his face, but he was the smartest man she knew. Having an argument with himself was the only way his opponent even stood a chance to get a word in.
She decided not to call for an JLTV. Sure, she did have some quasi-religious objections to walking anywhere she didn’t have to, but like everything else in the damned base, she had to pay for that too. Well, she always charged it back to Heavy Metal, but she still felt guilty. She knew that Sal knew what she did, but he never confronted her about it. That was the worst part.
Kennedy gritted her teeth. Maybe she could walk tonight. It was in that twilight hour where the place still absorbed the heat from the sand that had been blasted by the sun all day. Everything in the desert cooled off quickly, though.
It was the perfect temperature for a nice walk through the Staging Area.
“He’s making me a better person,” she complained. “Or a more conscientious one, anyway.”
She set off and paced herself like she did when she was in the Zoo, making sure to maintain a constant speed. Her boots struck the pavement in a neat, almost musical rhythm.
Was this what meditation was like? She’d never been able to do it when she sat cross-legged and chanted inanities. But losing herself in the repetitive movement and rhythm of walking allowed time to pass quicker. While she would have preferred to drive, she certainly could get used to this walking stuff.
Not that she would do it often. Sal had made her more conscientious, not a masochist.
She blinked, and her mind slipped out of the daze that she’d dropped into when someone stepped into her path. Someone who hadn’t seen her and yet headed in the same direction.
Madigan narrowed her eyes and focused on the figure now slightly ahead of her. They were between streetlights, which made it difficult to see who it was, but the flicker of light on short blonde hair, plus the distinctive half strutting gait that she’d come to recognize, told her it was Courtney.
The fact that she was there wasn’t too hard to explain. The specialist lived in the area and only a few blocks away, in fact. Where she was going made less sense, though. She moved away from her own home toward the houses on the outskirts.
When the woman turned into the street that Sal lived on, Kennedy felt less like they were walking the same path and more like she was a stalker. Like she was some sort of psycho, jealous girlfriend who followed the women that her man hung out with.
It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, she realized. She didn’t feel jealous, but the thought that Sal might think she was didn’t sit well with her.
They moved closer to Sal’s home. Madigan wondered if denial was the reason why she had somehow convinced herself that Courtney was going somewhere else, right up to the moment that she went down the path that led to his door. She gritted her teeth as the specialist knocked.
Had Sal called her there? Was this some sort of planned tryst?
It took him longer than anticipated to answer the door, and the blonde knocked again, more insistently this time.
“I’m coming, damn it,” Kennedy heard him say, and a few seconds later, light flowed into the darkened street and he stood in the doorway.
“Courtney?” Sal asked, and a confused smile played on his lips. “What are you doing here?”
Well, at least it didn’t seem like he had expected her, Madigan thought. Small victories.
“Hey, Sal…Jacobs,” his visitor said and shook her head.
“You can call me Sal,” he said with a chuckle.
“Sure, Sal,” Courtney said and brushed her hair quickly out of her face with a small smile. “I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
“Uh… Yeah, sure.” He stepped aside so she could enter. Madigan scrunched her face with the effort to resist the urge to walk up to the door before he closed it again, announce her arrival, and interrupt whatever it was that the other woman was there to say.
The nice feeling that she’d had before disappeared. She wasn’t jealous. Definitely not. But it still felt odd that she wasn’t happy about Sal talking to Courtney alone.
Seriously, she reminded herself, she wasn’t jealous. She simply didn’t like it. It wasn’t like he was her husband or anything and she had no real claim on him. They simply worked together and had a little fun on the side. Who was she to claim exclusive rights to his fun?
Okay, maybe she might be a teeny bit jealous.
Chapter Fourteen
“So,” Sal said and looked expectantly at Courtney, who had taken a seat on his couch. “What brings you here to my neck of the very proverbial woods?” He moved to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. He would have offered her something else if he had it. He really needed to restock with something that wasn’t dry crackers that tasted stale no matter how new the packaging said they were.
She smiled and didn’t answer until he moved closer and set the glass of cool water in her hands before he sat on his office chair across from her.
“I needed to talk to you about something,” she said.
“So you said,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look rather the worse for wear. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you suffer from a severe case of hung-overitis. I obviously don’t know you that well, but you simply never seemed to be the type of person to drink a lot. Socially or otherwise.”
Courtney shrugged her shoulders. “I made an exception today. It was a seriously shitty day.”
Sal nodded. “I hear that. Is that what you came here to talk about?”
“Well, sort of.” She paused to take a sip of the water and winced. For a moment, she thought that the water tasted bad, but then she remembered how bad her mouth tasted, and she swallowed smoothly and took another sip before she continued. “I just got back from a trip to the Zoo. They paired me with a bad team. Not incompetent, but the folks weren’t the nicest. It was while I was in there that I realized that the contract that I work under has left far too much to the interpretation of the team leaders I’m sent in with. Long story short, they screwed me out of a big payday over something that I literally had no power over.”
Sal nodded and leaned back in his seat. “Well, you know the conditions under which I was brought here, so you know that I mean it when I say that I’ve been there and done that. It sucks hard. And not in a nice way.”
Courtney chuckled, made a face again, and shook her head. “Anyway, I had a chat with one of the cooler members of the squad once we got back, and he basically woke me up to the fact that I would do much better if I had someone to help me to negotiate my contracts—maybe even someone to look at them and help me to figure out what I should do with my time here, you know?”
Sal nodded cautiously. “Um…sure. I always thought you were here to be on the cutting edge of your field and all that. The money merely provided something of an incentive for a job well done.”
She shrugged. “Yes, but at this point, with everything I’ve learned, I can probably make a lot more money if I return to the States and head up some sort of task force hell-bent on recreating the goop’s conditions—and with a lot fewer risks involved. Specifically of the ‘kill you and eat you’ variety. But at the same time, I still feel like I need some guidance on how to handle the whole situation. Someone to keep my focus not on the work I want to do, but what I want to get out of it, you know? And if I’m honest, you and Kennedy are the only ones who really spring to mind when I wonder who I can turn to for help on that.”
“That’s…interesting.” Sal paused to bite the inside of his cheek before he continued. “I’d be happy to help you out there, and I’m sure that
Ma—Kennedy would feel the same.” Dammit. “I can’t speak for her, but to me, you’re one of the good ones. You were there with me on my first run into that fucking jungle, and you’re one of the few who actually helped me out there. So, again, I can’t speak for Kennedy, but you’re damn right I’ll help you in any way I can. And I’m sure that my partner in crime will say the same if-slash-when you ask her.”
Courtney smiled and winced. Again. Sal narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he studied her keenly.
“What’s the matter?” he asked when he realized that she avoided his gaze.
“There’s probably something you should know before you agree to get into any deals with me,” she said, clearly uncomfortable now. “And while I really, really appreciate everything you said about me being one of the good ones, you might want to hold off on that kind of judgment as well.”
Sal leaned back again and left his glass of water untouched on the coffee table to his right as he looked sternly at Courtney. Well, he tried, anyway. He wasn’t sure how to pull off the kind of glare that made people stop beating around the bush and tell the truth, but he did do his absolute best.
“Look, I really don’t want you to hate me,” she said tentatively, and when he didn’t offer any reassurances, she gulped and pushed forward. “But this afternoon, I spoke to Kennedy. We were both drinking, and she mentioned how she and you are…an item or something. Anyway, I was really, really drunk, so instead of going home, I came here while you were napping. I saw you there, and with all my inhibitions gone, I…well, I guess I…raped you. Or at least took advantage.” She looked at him, almost on the verge of tears. “I woke up and remembered everything. I felt so guilty that I had to come to tell you. I’m so sorry.”