“Besides,” he looked sheepish, “the blue looks way awesome on you. Perfect.”
She couldn’t very well argue with that.
Gazing down at the other two bags, she knew one of them was a white dress, and the other was a deep blue rather than the pale tint she wore.
“Dark blue?” she asked.
“It will look great on you,” he responded. “As will any of the other ones you try on. But I’m having a hard time imagining anything looking better on you than what you are wearing.”
And he meant every word.
Under any other circumstance, or with anyone else, she would have automatically fought the issue. No one made any decisions about her except her. But…
“Well. I guess that settles it.”
“What about tickets?” Jack asked.
“I made some. No one will be able to tell the difference.” They were exact replicas of the ones they’d given out to those students who had wasted their money. Honestly, who pays forty dollars to go to a dance in the school gym?
They weren’t her best forgeries, but she’d had limited time and they were good enough to fool any of the morons that would be looking at them.
“So we’re all set,” he said. “I have a feeling no one is really going to want to talk to me when we show up at the school tonight.”
“Does that bug you?”
Jack thought for a moment then shook his head. “Not really. I don’t really have anything in common with anyone anymore. I just don’t much see the point of school at the moment.”
“Welcome to the club,” Alex said.
“Where do you think the Insider will show up?”
Alex pursed her lips in thought. “If it were me,” she said. “I’d try to do it in the gym where all the kids are dancing. Not too many teenagers are going to have guns hidden under their dresses. Nor should they. The event, for the most part, is safe and controlled. Noisy like he wanted. That will make audio surveillance extremely difficult for anyone else. He’ll likely pose as a chaperone or something. Who knows? We won’t know him until he approaches us.”
There wasn’t much else to talk about at that point. Alex changed back into her cargo pants and long-sleeve t-shirt. She was packing up her stuff to go when Jack spoke.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to test something.”
She searched his mind and knew exactly what he wanted to do. She hated he was suggesting it, but she understood nonetheless.
Alex knew better than anyone that she wasn’t the only person who could read a person’s mind. Or do worse things to it.
“You want to try to shut me out.”
He was apologetic, but firm in his decision. “I need to try, Alex. Please.”
With a sigh she nodded her agreement.
Almost immediately his thoughts quickly faded away. It was so much more controlled than the first time he had attempted it. He kept his eyes open, studying her reactions.
And then there was nothing.
She had a brief moment where she was back in Barry’s room, and Jack was lying on the floor looking dead. No thoughts were coming from his mind.
It wasn’t natural. Everyone had thoughts right up until the moment they died.
The moment stretched out longer and longer. Jack wasn’t even sweating. She was conscious she rubbed her hands together. She didn’t hear anything. No one else was in the house, and she couldn’t even get a whisper from the neighbors.
She wanted to scream just to have some noise.
Then it was all back. All his thoughts. He was concerned.
“You OK?” he asked after letting out a deep breath. “I could tell you were starting to lose it.”
“I was that obvious?” Not good. Not good at all. She always had outward control over her emotions. Always.
“You looked like you were going to run out of the room screaming.”
“Don’t ever do that with me again. Please.” She was ashamed at the pleading in her voice she couldn’t cover up. “The last time you were that silent was at Barry’s place. When I thought you were dead.” Her heart beat was just now starting to calm down. She took in a series of deep breaths.
Sudden understanding dawned on his face. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t even think of that. Geez.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But you know I can’t promise to never do it around you. If it is just us, I totally promise. But what if someone else can read minds? Like your father. He’s about the last person in the world I want to read my thoughts.”
He swore in his head, and his thoughts automatically turned to violent and grotesque visions from some film he’d seen. All the visions came with a built in sentiment of stark fear anytime he thought of her father.
“What happened?”
“One of the films I took from Helix,” he said. “You’re going to have to see it for yourself.”
His one constant thought was that her father, Arthur Gaines, was a complete monster. Jack equated him with the Leech in his mind.
“Just tell me what you saw. Give me the short version.”
“I…” he hesitated, his mind trying to intentionally avoid going to a specific place. But Alex got enough to know the gist of it. “Please. Just go watch the film reel downstairs. My Aunt seems to think I’m just going through some sort of phase, so she didn’t question the film reel. Just…just go watch it.”
When he didn’t make any move to rise from his seat on the bed, she asked, “You aren’t coming?”
“If I never have to see that again, I will die happily.”
An hour later she returned and sat down next to Jack on his bed. She was shaken. No matter how much she detested her father, she’d never thought he could ever go that far. That film had been enough to make her want to take a gun and shoot her father until the magazine ran dry. Then reload and do it again.
This was a part of Helix she’d never actually witnessed. From all her interactions with Jack’s dad, she didn’t think he was totally aware of it either—or he’d been better at guarding his thoughts than she had given him credit for. She’d heard the occasional whisper in a random person’s mind while wandering the halls at Helix, but had always dismissed them as vivid imaginations. Now she could see how dumb she’d been. How naïve. Helix always ran experiments, but usually on monsters.
In that video, her father had been the monster.
Helix—and therefore her father—was no better than Whyte Genetics. Her father always spouted the stance Helix was ethical about their experiments. They wanted to make the world safer.
Last time she checked, human experimentation like on that film wasn’t ethical.
Alex had no idea what to do.
They sat there on his bed for a long time, unmoving and in silence other than their thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rap music thumped from inside the gym, advertising this dance would be no different than any other in the school’s recent history.
There weren’t that many people in Calm Waters with a full set of DJ equipment, so the same DJ was hired for every school dance and any event where music was necessary. The sad thing was I couldn’t even recall the guy’s name.
I wore my nicest pair of jeans with a button-up shirt—no tie, because ties suck—and one of my dad’s old sport coats still somehow fashionable in our town. I doubted that fashion trend was doing well outside Calm Waters, but it worked out well. I had the knife Alex had given me inside one pocket, and I held half-dozen spare magazines in the various pockets of my jacket and pants. She didn’t exactly have places for them. They were a lot heavier than I expected.
Alex looked even better than she had when she had tried on the dress a few hours earlier. Her hair was pulled up stylishly, but also tightly, she said, so no one could grab her by the hair and yank her around. She was worried about having to wear heels rather than running shoes. How was she supposed to run? I told her the girls in spy movies always ran in heels. Her response was
something like, “They also sometimes beat the crap out of their partners.”
Alex walked slowly. Apparently having a gun and a knife strapped to the inside of her legs made things more difficult than she had anticipated. The plus side was it also served to let us—mostly her—take in the scenery better. I was jumpy, and the first time two girls had screamed for no other reason than they were teenage girls, I’d nearly bolted to jump into a bush. On the other hand, Alex had her arm looped through mine. She said we needed to blend in, and I was fine with the arrangement.
Someone’s bored mom and dad took our tickets without even a second glance. Inside the gymnasium, the music was deafening. Students bounced up and down to the beat, which was exactly the same as the beat from the last song. At least I think it was a different song. Maybe it was the same one, and was just really long. The crowd mainly centered around one girl who was wearing a crown. The Homecoming Queen I presumed, but I couldn’t see much other than the tiara.
I wasn’t in any mood to dance, and neither was Alex. We weren’t here to have fun.
Other students gave us constant disgusted looks as they passed by us. By “us” I mean “me”. The glances thrown Alex’s way were more confused than anything else. I didn’t need to read minds to know what they were thinking. I already knew pretty much everyone hated me because of what they falsely thought my father had done. They wondered what someone like Alex was doing with a complete tool like me.
For her part, Alex’s expression became more and more angry. I had to pull her back further away from the crowd when she’d taken a murderous step towards a group of gossiping teens near us.
We waited by a wall for the next three monotonous songs. Everyone on the dance floor seemed to be enjoying themselves, though I imagined if their parents knew how they were dancing with their dates, they would be enjoying themselves far less. That was the whole point though. If this had been a normal Homecoming dance for me, I’d be right out there with them.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I almost missed it over the vibration caused by the massive speakers. The caller ID was blank.
I didn’t even need to nudge Alex since she read my mind. She immediately guided my elbow so my back was to the crowd and she could see everything behind me.
I answered the phone and shoved one finger into the opposite ear. Just as I was about to yell “hello” into the mouth piece, the music died down into a slow-paced song. Another series of delighted shrieks from the crowd. I glanced over my shoulder and saw every girl pulling their date onto the dance floor. I felt so detached from all the excitement. A month ago I would have been part of that crowd. Now I couldn’t have cared less.
“Mr. Bishop,” the Insider said. “I’m glad to see you made it. Tell the lovely-looking Miss Courtney to get nice and personal with you. I need an excuse to approach you.”
I repeated everything the Insider said in my head so Alex would hear it. She looked hesitant, but took two steps closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. She was nearly the same height as I, and for a moment our faces were only an inch apart.
She “accidentally” stepped on my foot to get me to re-focus on the situation. My mind had been blissfully elsewhere.
Alex moved a little closer then, pressed completely against me, her head to the side of mine. While I imagine this was so she could still see around me, I’d never wished more than right then that we were two normal people just enjoying a dance. My right hand strayed down and wrapped around her waist, then my left, phone still in hand.
I could have stayed like that forever.
From the corner of my eye I saw someone approaching. Where he’d been hiding was anyone’s guess. Alex tensed and pulled away just a little so she could look in that direction.
The man was a shade under six feet tall, thin, with dark hair receding into a widow’s peak. His round glasses reflected the lights from the DJ’s stage and from the disco-ball spinning endlessly above us. His suit—a full three piece, four-button, black suit with light pinstripes—looked tailored. There was a suspicious bulge under his left arm I assumed was a gun.
“Here is how this is going to go, Mr. Bishop, Miss Courtney.” It was the Insider without a doubt. Somehow I’d expected him to be more imposing. Maybe that misconception was something he normally used to his advantage. “As we stand here and talk, I am going to make very exaggerated and angry gestures. I want everyone to think I am scolding you for whatever.
“As I do this,” he continued, pointing angrily out into the crowd. “I want the both of you to appear appropriately ashamed. As far as any of the other delinquents here can tell, I’m just one of the chaperones giving you a hard time. Why? Because I can. It sounds perfect to me. A new song should start shortly. DJ Lee—you’d think he’d pick a better name—uses the same playlist at every event.” As he finished talking the slow-song faded into yet another bass-thumping rap anthem.
“Perfect,” he said. “Not only is this song exceptionally loud, but it is one of my favorites. Now, Mr. Bishop, you should probably end that call on your phone. It will conserve your minutes.”
As I followed his instructions, he began to angrily count off on his fingers. The movements were large so they drew anyone’s attention if they were looking.
“I will have to talk quickly,” he said counting off his index finger then pointing at the both of us. I ducked my head as if embarrassed, and Alex did the same. “I know definitively that Mr. Bishop’s father is held at Whyte Genetics in Sacramento. They are interrogating him, and they want the details to Project Sentinel, of which fortunately he only has minimal details.
“The bad news is that even those details are enough for a smart man like Janison Whyte to piece together.” He counted off a second finger and pointed at the thin straps on Alex’s dress.
“This means they know enough to have a good idea who Project Sentinel is,” he continued. A group of girls were edging closer to attempt eavesdropping. The Insider leaned to the side and fixed them with a malevolent stare sending them scurrying away.
He grabbed one side of my jacket and pulled it towards himself. With the other he slipped a thick envelope from his pocket and slid it into my inside jacket pocket. “Are you carrying ammunition, Mr. Bishop?” His face continued the charade of anger, but his tone was light and pleased. “How delightful and how very paranoid. You should take that as a compliment. Paranoid men stay alive longer. And it isn’t really paranoia if they are actually out to get you. Speaking of which…”
His eyes flickered over our shoulders, and his expression went flat. “As they said in my day, ‘the jig is up.’” He put a hand on each of our shoulders. “I assume Miss Courtney has a gun. Perhaps a 9mm or a compact .40? Good. Mr. Bishop, you are therefore her pack-mule. I want you to reach into my jacket and pull out the .45 I have holstered there.”
“What’s going on?” I asked with eyes wide.
“Some of Whyte’s minions are here. I just saw a person jerked through one of the exits people are using to go get air. Anyone that has gone in that direction has yet to return.
“I would normally say I’d run that direction to hold them off with the guns holstered on my ankles, and the one at my back,” he said calmly, “but I fear it is too late for that. On the bright side, maybe we can use this opportunity to see how far you’ve come in your skills. Like a field-test!” He sounded…cheerful.
Behind us, screams of terror cut over the relentless beat.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I pulled the gun from the Insider’s shoulder-holster and spun around to see a group of the Hounds burst through the door. The reflected light from the disco-ball showed several of them had faces wet with blood.
They came through the door, more and more, until I’d counted thirteen. Not the most comforting number.
There were two at their head larger than the others. They each raised their distorted human faces into the air and began smelling. Even over the clouds of cheap perfume and cheaper cologne their head
s swung directly to look at us.
“Run!” I found myself screaming needlessly.
Our path took us towards the only other open door in the gym. The original entrance. Where the press of teens was the thickest. Alex had already kicked off her heels and hiked up her skirt. In her other hand she had her own gun. The Insider had another gun of his own in hand. Without stopping, he aimed back into the group of monsters and pulled the trigger.
I didn’t see if the bullet hit, but the roar of the gun caused the room to collectively flinch. The ringing in my ears made concentration difficult.
“Gun!”
It didn’t matter who screamed, but it was perfectly timed to happen in between the lull of two songs. DJ Lee had been too absorbed in the music to realize the screams he’d been hearing weren’t in appreciation of his “skills”. The result was instant and chaotic. The mass of teens split in two halves, one half running towards the same exit as us, and the other half towards the back exit…
…where the killing machines were.
We were enveloped in a stampede of overly tight dresses and bad suits. A lot of people stood between us and the Hounds, but they also prevented us from using our guns—not that I would be any good with mine.
Adrenaline surged through me. My focus tunneled in on the area in front of us. The blood pounding in my ears began blocking out the shouts of panic around us and the screams of pain behind us.
I risked a glance towards the back exit and knew I’d never forget that sight. The Hounds were literally ripping through the mass of teens that had mistakenly run towards them. Someone had flipped the lights on which served only to blind us momentarily, then show us how completely screwed we were in a vision that would make Hell look on proudly.
Bodies of other kids were thrown through the air to hit the walls where they rebounded leaving red splotches and smears. I saw a series of body parts hurled into other teens. A severed head arced over the crowd and hit the Homecoming Queen a few feet to my right. She was knocked to the ground, then trampled under the feet of the dozens of other students surrounding her.
Residue Page 19