by Joe Shine
Junie moaned in agony through his gag. Mr. S. kneed him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him, and dropped him to the ground. He put his heel on Junie’s throat to hold him down.
“I’m going to make you watch your precious Junie change. Watch him become the raging beast. After that you will either kill him or he will kill you. I’m guessing you’ll kill him. Call it a hunch.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Good choice. Where is the stupid little boy?”
“Gareth,” I said. “His name is Gareth.”
“Why does his name matter?”
“Because you should know the name of the person who kills you,” I said coolly.
BANG!
A small red dot appeared in the middle of Mr. S.’s chest. Then it spread out, bigger and bigger. His eyes bulged. He looked over my shoulder and shook his head as he clutched his chest and fell to his knees. He took one last gasp and fell over.
I whipped around. On the landing stood Gareth, pale and shaky, clutching a pistol that didn’t sit right in his hands.
“Only after I gave the signal,” I said. “That was the plan. Did I give the signal?”
“Maybe … no,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I’m not … like …”
“Like us,” I finished for him. I tried to smile. “We’re really gonna have to work on what following instructions means later. Do you even know what explicit means?”
“Yeah, means not-plicit,” he said, mustering a smile in return.
“Nice shot, by the way.”
“Video games,” he said, hurrying forward to hand me the gun as quickly as possible. He kept his eyes on Junie, avoiding the figure he’d just killed. “How’d you know I was there?”
I pointed toward the monitors behind Mr. S.’s body and said, “Reflection. Sloppy work, kid. Lucky he didn’t see you.”
A muffled, “Hey!” came from behind me. I spun around and covered the distance two steps, then crouched down, and ripped off the tape from his mouth.
“I’m sorry, are you okay?”
“Been better,” he said, choking for air. “Being your friend is exhausting.”
I uncuffed him, carried him across the room, and laid him on the couch. I checked his wounds from earlier. They’d been patched.
“Did it myself when I got home,” he said. “They’re good,” he added, taking my hands in his. “I’m good.” He jerked his head toward Mr. S.’s crumpled body.
“He was waiting for me. All the cars have trackers. That’s how he knew when you’d be here too.”
“Is he alone?” I asked, hoping he was but fearing the worst.
“As far as I know,” Junie said. “He screwed up and he knew it. This was a solo mission. Only a few people know about these side ops. This stuff isn’t exactly sanctioned.”
“Side ops?” Mr. S. was a well-documented Chatty Cathy, so I hoped Junie knew more.
“He’s not the first,” Junie confirmed, nodding toward Gareth, who was now snooping through Junie’s gear.
“How many others?”
Junie shrugged. “All I know is they use them to fund something off-books called the Nest?”
I glanced at Gareth. But he was now preoccupied with a kit of micro cameras.
“It doesn’t make sense to come for him. They got what they wanted when they broke him.”
Junie shook his head. “Just the theory. The professor called while we were waiting. He said he couldn’t figure it out and still needed the source. He needed Gareth.”
“Professor?” It was the second time in the last twenty-four hours I’d heard this reference. I’d always assumed it was a Mr. S. alias …
“No clue. But I got the feeling Mr. S. was afraid of him.”
Before I could say another word, Mr. S. emitted a deep, gurgling cough. Gareth spun around. I guess he wasn’t dead yet. I crouched down next to him, not sure if I would just finish him off, and he looked up at me. Fear. Absolute fear. He was dying and he knew it. He reached out with a bloody hand, and I instinctively gave him mine to hold. I wasn’t becoming soft. I’d always been soft. I wasn’t afraid of showing the truth anymore, either.
“I’m sorry,” he managed. “I really did like you.” He pulled me closer and passed me a glass tablet. “He wants to speak with you.” As I took it, his grip slackened and his eyes glazed over.
I held the tablet to my ear.
“Hello? Is this Ren Sharpe?” The voice was upbeat and pleasant, a dad’s voice, like Mr. S.’s had once been.
“This is she.”
“Good, good. And do you know who you’re talking to?”
“The professor?”
“Excellent. Listen, Ms. Sharpe, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and I want to clear things up. I don’t want to hurt Mr. Young, far from it. Oh, I did, I’m not going to lie. But now that I’ve seen what he’s got inside his head I realize how wrong that would have been. He’s a once-in-a-generation mind. As a fellow scholar, it’s my duty to help cultivate it, ensure that it reaches its full potential.”
“What if he doesn’t want your help?”
“He does. He just doesn’t know it. Understand this, Ren. I’m offering an end to this, a peaceful one where we all walk away alive and Gareth is safe from harm for the rest of his life. As his Shadow, what more could you hope for, right? I can guarantee his safety. Can you?”
I looked over at Gareth, who was handing Junie an ice pack. They were both alive, they were both safe. But for how long?
“But hang up this phone, turn down this offer, and the hunt will begin.”
They must have sensed I was watching them and turned to look at me at the exact same time. And there was my answer. I’d lost my family once and had no intention of doing it again. Whatever was coming would come, and when it did, it would have to go through me.
“Best of luck with the hunt.”
I dropped the phone and ground it beneath my boot.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Adam, you kick-started this adventure and I will never forget that. Axel and Felix, your dad is awesome. Tia, you stuck your neck out for me and never gave up. Thank you for believing. Faye, thank you for your guidance and sage-like wisdom. More to come, I promise. Dan, I can barely spell the word ‘the’ (whoa, look at that!), so this final product is a testament to your patience, notes and direction. There were times when I felt you knew the world and characters better than me. Thank you for taking the chance on a complete unknown. Thank you Bronwen, Meredith, and the rest of the Soho team for everything that you do, have done, and will do that I will probably never be aware of.
To my family and friends. I’m awkward, I’m loud, and extremely odd. I couldn’t tolerate me for more than a day. How you all do it day in and day out baffles me. You generously acted as early readers and first-wave editors. You turned a jumbled mess of words into an actual story. I am humbled by your love and friendship.
Thank you to Austin, TX, for constantly inspiring me to be creative; Texas A&M University for molding me into the man I am today; and most importantly, the Peter Stark Producing Program at USC for introducing me to my muse and the love my life, Kelley.