by Hadena James
Getting into those rooms would be the hardest part, but he already had a plan for that. He picked up several syringes that he had filled earlier in the day. The caps were on them, keeping their deadly contents from leaking out, and put them into a small bag.
The drive took him almost an hour. The sun was still visible, although it was starting to set. The federal car they had been given wasn’t in the parking lot. He had a moment of doubt. It was possible that the explosion had sent them running back to Missouri. That would do him no good. He parked in the back. The camera had been disabled as soon as he discovered the SCTU would be staying at this particular hotel.
He climbed from the truck, keeping low as he moved to the front of the vehicle. All he had to do was wait. It didn’t take long for an older man to walk outside. The door shut, the electronic lock engaging behind him. The man took several steps away from the door and into the parking lot, lighting up a cigarette as he did.
Alejandro continued to wait. It was the guy’s last cigarette, so Alejandro felt he should at least be able to enjoy most of it. Despite the bum leg, Alejandro still moved quickly. Before the man even knew it, it was happening. Alejandro took hold of him and snapped his neck. He dragged the man to the storm drain.
Alejandro stole the dead man’s hotel master key before shoving him into the drain. After the body had been hidden, Alejandro walked back to the truck. He grabbed the package of syringes and let himself into the back door. It appeared to be a hallway for employees. A few doors were marked with things like Laundry, Locker Room, and Computer Servers. No one was in the hall. Alejandro followed the exit signs.
He came out into a long hallway with more doors. These had numbers on them, all in the 100s. The SCTU was staying on the third floor. He found the stairs and began going up. His leg was starting to hurt. He’d be limping tomorrow, if he bothered to get out of the wheelchair where he was theoretically confined.
He began counting the rooms, until he found the one that Gabriel had opened. His fist gently rapped on the door. He waited. Nothing happened, so he inserted the master key. The room was dark. The air conditioner was on high and the air chilled his skin. He flipped on the entrance light and let his eyes adjust to the gloom.
His search of the room did not reveal the Pepsi that he’d seen the red-head carry up. This irked him and he ended up settling on a bottle of shampoo. He had to empty part of it before he could put any belladonna in it. Once the cap was back on, he gave it a quick shake, mixing the liquids. It would have to do. He turned the light off and let himself back out of the room.
He knocked on the door immediately next to Gabriel’s. No one answered, so he let himself into it. He’d expected to find Xavier and Lucas’s stuff. However, the clothing in the room was a mix of men and women’s. This didn’t seem right for the SCTU. He exited.
The next room had only the clothing of a woman in it. There were bottles of water and a few packets of herbal tea next to the coffee maker. However, Alejandro had watched her carry in a Keurig coffee maker. There wasn’t one in the room. For a moment, he wondered if he had the wrong room. He searched the room again. There were some suits in the cubby hole closet. A few copies of Vogue magazine were on the nightstand. Several expensive shampoos, conditioners, and bottles of perfume huddled together on the vanity in the bathroom along with a very full makeup case. He couldn’t remember the woman wearing makeup and she had been in jeans and a blouse, but nothing like the suits in the closet. He left the room untouched, confused by the change in booking habits. A member of the SCTU should have been between Aislinn and Gabriel, but the stuff in the room didn’t appear to belong to the other woman he had seen.
His prize was in the next room. He let himself into the room where he’d seen Aislinn Cain. Her Mountain Dew was on the dresser next to the TV. The six-pack of bottles were unopened and still held together with their plastic holder. He injected each bottle with the contents of the syringes. No shaking was necessary.
After leaving Aislinn’s room, he continued to search for Lucas and Xavier’s without much luck. When he knocked on a door and someone actually answered, he decided it was better to leave. Three out of five wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad. The unstoppable forces of the VCU and SCTU were going to be crippled.
It was a victory that he could live with, especially knowing that Aislinn Cain was going to die. That put a smile on his face. He couldn’t help but smile as he exited the hotel through a side door.
He even continued to smile as he pulled out of the hotel. The little things in life were what made the biggest difference.
Then he realized his giant mistake. His fist slammed against the steering wheel. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so single-minded? He turned into the nearest gas station.
Ten
The sun hung low in the sky, giving off an orangish-red glare, as Gabriel and I returned to Billy Thomas’ house. Unfortunately, Thomas had not survived. He had technically died of heart failure. However, Xavier was fairly sure they were going to find belladonna in his system. He had an undiagnosed heart condition, the arrhythmia had led to a heart attack. At thirty-four, he was another casualty of this merciless poisoner.
Or maybe I was projecting my feelings of Malachi’s attempted murder onto the poisoner. It was possible. Sometimes, my ability to compartmentalize went a little wonky.
The neighborhood didn’t improve with the setting sun. A group of young kids played in the front yard of a house, but everything looked a little dingier in the fading light. Gabriel parked at the curb.
Xavier was with the corpses of Amber Braun and Billy Thomas. There was no need to deal with Joe Johnson. His cause of death was apparent and possibly, justified. Lucas and Fiona were going to interview a few of the tall men she had found in her DMV search. I wasn’t sure how that would go, but as the least crazy of the bunch, it might be fine.
This was one of the few times we weren’t forcing our way into a house. Gabriel had the dead man’s house keys. It took a couple of tries before he found the right one, but once he did, we entered. He went through, gun drawn, flipping on lights and announcing our presence. I stood near the door, hoping he didn’t spook some half naked woman who had been napping while awaiting Billy’s return. I didn’t want to deal with that at the moment.
“Clear!” Gabriel shouted from a distant room. I stepped inside. Billy kept a surprisingly nice house. It didn’t look like a bachelor pad at all. The floors were vacuumed, the coffee table was clean and held only two remotes, and the furniture was nice.
“Kitchen?” I suggested as Gabriel re-entered the living room.
“Why the kitchen?” He asked.
“Everyone has been ingesting the stuff, so the kitchen seems like the place to start.” I shrugged.
“The kitchen it is.” Gabriel started in that direction.
“I feel like we are playing a real life game of Clue,” I commented.
“Why?”
“We are going into the kitchen to look for what exactly?”
“I see your point.”
We each took a side. Gabriel started at the fridge. I started at a cupboard. It contained plates, bowls, and saucers, all neatly arranged.
“Wow, check out all this oatmeal,” Gabriel said as he opened the pantry. I walked over to look. There were at least twenty boxes of flavored instant oatmeal, each containing eight servings. Aside from the oatmeal and several cases of bottled water, the pantry didn’t contain much.
“Maybe he was stocking up for the zombie apocalypse.” I turned to look in another cupboard.
“Why would you stock up on oatmeal for that?”
“Which would you rather eat; oatmeal or zombie?” I asked.
“Why not stock up on Ramen Noodles then?”
“Oatmeal requires less water, doesn’t take as long to cook, and comes in more flavors.”
“I feel like you have actually thought about this.” Gabriel gave me a weird look.
“I do not like Ramen,” I shrugg
ed. This cupboard contained a few cans of green beans, corn, and spinach. I hate canned spinach.
“Seriously?” Gabriel asked, closing the pantry door. “You have thought about it.”
“Not seriously in the sense that I stocked up on oatmeal and bottled water, but it was a thought exercise I once participated in. If you knew that the zombie apocalypse was coming, how would you prepare?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never thought of it.”
“I would fortify my location, give myself easier access to the roof, and stock up on canned foods, oatmeal, boxed potatoes, spaghetti, bottled water, and other liquids. I’d also buy several long metal poles, about six inches in diameter.”
“That seems weird.”
“The pole could be sharpened. You just have to kill the brain. Giving myself access to the roof of my fortified location would allow me to stand on it and stab zombies in the head. If they managed to grab the pole I was using, I would just grab another. This would work only so long as I could keep poles. Once I was out of poles, I would have to think of new ways to kill them. Of course, now that I live in the FGN, I would have plenty of assistance in the zombie defense program. I do not believe they could scale the walls and with only the single gated entrance, we could take turns guarding the gates. Keeping our neighbors from looting would be the biggest problem.”
“If there’s a zombie apocalypse, I’ll bring supplies when I show up on your doorstep. I’m kinda freaked out and impressed that you have a plan.”
“Like I said, it was a thought exercise. Thinking about the impossible and how to plan for it keeps the brain from atrophying.” I thought for a moment. “Also, my mom loves the show The Walking Dead. I enjoy pointing out when they are doing it wrong.”
“They’ve survived, haven’t they?”
“Only because it is a TV show,” I answered. “As strange as it sounds, preparing for zombies is one of the things Mom and I do talk about. She has some interesting ideas of her own.”
“I can’t imagine you and your mom sitting around talking about the zombie apocalypse.” Gabriel shook his head as he closed the final cabinet door.
“We have to talk about something. The zombie apocalypse is just as good as anything else. We also discuss family, friends, work, and news. We have learned to avoid topics like my non-existent social life, although, that has gotten better in recent years. Joining the SCTU doubled the number of people I consider friends.”
“This might be the single most depressing day ever.” Gabriel sighed. “Between revelations about yourself, Malachi, and now we are searching a house for something that might be of value, it has pretty well sucked.”
“Searching the house beats interviewing tall men.”
“That’s true.”
“Speaking of things that are tall, did you see the wendigo here or in Arizona? Why are you affiliated with Sioux Falls, South Dakota, enough not to need a map?”
“I went to college here,” Gabriel said. “And no, I did not see the wendigo here. I was a kid, and we were visiting some family in Canada when I saw the wendigo.”
“You have family in Canada?” I was surprised by this.
“My grandparents,” Gabriel answered.
“Are they still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Are your parents still alive?” I suddenly realized he never spoke of them.
“No, my father died of cancer when I was a teenager. My mother’s jealously prone second husband killed her when I was in college. My younger sister was home when it happened, and she hasn’t spoken a word since then. She’s been in a hospital, but they haven’t made any progress with her therapy. My younger brother was not. After the incident, he went to live with our grandparents in Canada. He’s never moved back stateside. About seven years ago, we moved my sister to a hospital in Canada to be closer to our grandparents and brother.”
“And the wendigo?” I pressed a little harder.
“Was terrifying and I wasn’t the only one to see it. My sister was with us. They think the trauma of that event coupled with the trauma of our mother’s murder is why she became mute.”
“Who is the us?” I asked.
“My father, the boy that was killed, and me.”
“Your dad saw it too then?”
“Yes, and he reported the exact same thing I did. It was a wendigo.”
“I do not doubt that,” I defended him. “I completely believe you on what it was. I just wanted more information. So, at least one of your parents was Canadian?”
“Neither of them was. My grandparents moved up there before I was born. My grandfather got a job at a mill and they immigrated to Canada.”
“Interesting.” I nodded. “I have never been to Canada.”
“My grandparents have retired and now live in a lake community up there. It’s like Alaska, but with fewer people.”
“And more Bigfoot sightings.”
“I’ve never seen Bigfoot.”
“I did not say you had. I was just making a general observation. So, Canada has wendigos, Bigfoots, or Bigfeets, or whatever, Ogopogo, and very little population.”
“That’s about right,” Gabriel answered. “How much time do you think we can kill hanging out here, pretending to look for something?”
“At least another hour, depending on what we want to discuss.”
“Not wendigos, sasquatches, Ogopogo, or Canada.”
“Well, we’ve already discovered that, in the event of the zombie apocalypse, you are just going to come to my house, so that is out.”
“I said I’d bring supplies. It isn’t like I would be free-loading.” Gabriel smiled as we walked outside. He lit a cigarette and handed it to me. “We might both be able to quit smoking in the event of the zombie apocalypse.”
“See, there is always a silver lining.”
Eleven
My hotel room should have been quiet, but it wasn’t. Instead, Gabriel was ranting about bad customer service. He and I had returned to our rooms before the others. His intention had been to take a shower. However, he’d shown up at my door in a bathrobe with an attitude, insisting to check my shampoo bottle. His had separated and he was convinced I understood the chemical makeup of shampoo well enough to tell him why it had separated, so that he would have that information when he confronted the front desk attendant about the shitty shampoo.
Unfortunately, aside from being incredibly old, I couldn’t think of a reason that shampoo would separate. This was worse for me than for him. Since I didn’t have an answer, he was intent on complaining to me. I had already told him to just take my shampoo, but that wasn’t the solution he was looking for.
I grabbed a Mountain Dew off the dresser. It was going to be a long night. I laid the rest of the six-pack on their side on the floor.
It failed to fizz properly when I unscrewed the cap. There was only a small hiss and a few bubbles that floated to the top. It also smelled very sweet.
“Maybe it is something in South Dakota,” I suggested, getting up and pouring the bottle down the sink. “Maybe the weather or since the population of the state is lower than that of Kansas City, things have a tendency to sit around and go bad.” I pulled another soda from the six-pack and got the same result. I attempted to drink it, but the smell of the syrup was so thick, it made me want to gag before I could get it to my lips. I looked at the rest of the six-pack. If two of them had done that, there was a good chance the entire pack was bad. Judging by the smell, there was too much syrup and not enough carbonation in the bottles. I took them all to the bathroom sink. I also grabbed Gabriel’s shampoo. If it were down the drain, he’d have to stop whining about it.
He followed me into the tight space. His hands reached for the shampoo. I uncapped it. It stank like over ripe fruit and rotting fats.
“That’s appalling,” Gabriel recapped the bottle. “I’m taking it to the front desk.”
“Fine, you do that. On your way back, grab me a soda. These are bad,” I told him, uncappin
g another bottle that refused to fizz correctly.
“I didn’t know soda went bad,” Gabriel said.
“Yep, if you leave it in an area where it gets hot and then cold repeatedly, it starts to taste like dirt. Sometimes, the bottling company, when they get low on carbonation, fail to realize it, and the soda ends up too syrupy. The smell alone is enough to keep a person from drinking it.” I demonstrated by pouring out another bottle. “Since I am now soda-less and you’re shampoo-less, maybe we’ll go downstairs together. Xavier and Lucas are going to need extra soap and shampoo anyway. Do you intend to go in your bathrobe and socks?”
“Yes,” Gabriel huffed. As far as fashion statements went, it wasn’t a good one. Gabriel was a redhead. He didn’t tan, so he didn’t expose much of his body to the sun. His legs were so white that they nearly glowed in the dark. The illusion was not helped by the fact that his leg hair was ginger colored. The combination created a nimbus effect around his legs, which were visible as he stomped towards the elevator.
“Do not be a jerk because of shampoo,” I whispered as we exited the elevator. “Save it for something more meaningful.”
“You’re giving me advice about being Zen?” Gabriel smiled. I smiled back and went to the vending machine. He was very nice to the front desk woman, who was more than willing to trade out his bottle of shampoo and kept apologizing. We used to travel with our own supplies, but then there had been a huge accident on the plane and it had made a terrible mess, as five bottles of shampoo and five bottles of conditioner exploded in a cloth duffle bag.
Gabriel waited for me as I grabbed six sodas from the machine and then went to the front desk to get extra supplies for Lucas and Xavier. We headed back upstairs. It was unusual for us not to be in a block of rooms. Lucas and Xavier were three doors down from me on the opposite side. Fiona was next to them. Gabriel and I had two rooms separating us. Our side seemed to contain smoking rooms. I thought that Fiona technically required a smoking room since she burned incense all the time, but it appeared that in the hotel handbooks, incense burning, while frowned upon, wasn’t as dangerous as smoking.