by Brian Cody
“Is it something with Clare?” Shawn asked as he glanced to Bryen and then looked to David.
“Hey, whoa, Shawn”, Erik began as he spun to Shawn. “You need to watch it, bro. I’m doing the questioning.”
“I was just asking_”
“Is it something with Clare? Did you guys have a lovers’ quarrel!?” Erik exclaimed to David. “You can tell us. We’re your multiethnic family!”
“No, it’s not that”, David replied as he inserted his left headphone and leaned towards his computer, “seriously, don’t worry; it’ll pass.”
“Nope! I’m not letting it pass! Dude, give me something! We’re roommates, friends, and soon-to-be teammates! We have to be aware of each other’s problems!” David reapplied his right headphone. “Dave!” Erik bellowed as he flung his arms.
“Garcia!” David huffed as he flung his headphones from his head. “I don’t want to talk about it… I…” David looked to Shawn, who was closing his computer; then to Bryen, who was reapplying his headphones. “I don’t want B-money to judge me.”
“Your request has been logged”, Bryen grunted while removing his headphones.
“Piekarsky, B-money won’t judge you. He’s a roommate too, and he’s not Nate. We’ve all got sticks in our eyes that we’re having trouble pulling out. What we need to do_”
“Erik, stop”, Bryen groaned.
“I’m trying to come up with a metaphor; I’d like to see you do better!” Erik roared. “Piekarsky, you have to give us something!” he exclaimed as he grabbed David’s right arm.
“Garcia, I…” David inhaled, closed his eyes, closed his laptop, and pushed his chair out. He stood as he opened his eyes, and, as Erik stepped back, David looked to Shawn, then Bryen, and then to Erik. “If I tell you this, don’t tell anyone else”, he began, his voice low, fumbling, and lacking that surety which they had come to expect of him. “Well, I guess you can tell Klinge and Turrisi since we’re ‘teammates’ now, but I don’t want Lamback or that director guy to know…not yet.”
“Dude, what is it?” Erik asked as he stepped back. “Is it about the bridge?”
“Well…yeah”, David replied as he rubbed the top of his scalp. Shawn and Bryen stood, with Shawn lowering his laptop onto the beanbag before turning to David, and Bryen stepping to the door and examining the lock to ensure that their entrance was secure. “So you can’t tell anyone except for Klinge and Turrisi”, David said as he lifted his arms, “not even to Lamback when you leave tonight.”
“Dude, we promise; you can trust us, remember? We’ve got each other’s backs”, Erik replied.
“My lips are sealed”, Shawn furthered as he swiped his hand across his mouth.
“I don’t talk”, Bryen remarked.
“I guess that works”, David replied. “It’s about the bridge… After I rescued that family, and…after I pulled Sterling Blue to one of the bridge’s pillars, right before he died, he told me something random, but also, after that…something weird; like, a poem or something. I’m not sure. I thought it was just some old guy rambling as his life disappeared, and, still, it might be that, but, because it was Sterling Blue… I don’t know, I had this eerie feeling that he was trying to tell me something important, like, he wanted to pass it on to someone—anyone—and I just happened to be there.”
“Well, do you remember the poem?” Shawn asked.
“Um, well…” David scanned the ceiling as he slanted his lips, “I think it went like…’from pride, from pride, our…knowledge…springs; account for more…something…as well as natural…things…’ I don’t remember all of it, but I know that it rhymed, and he repeated pride, and_”
“Pope”, Bryen blurted as he scratched his hair.
“I’m sorry?” David replied.
“It sounds like something that Pope wrote”, Bryen replied.
“You mean the big, Roman Catholic pope?” Shawn gasped. “So Sterling Blue was catholic?” he asked while looking to David.
“No, Alexander Pope”, Bryen replied as he stepped to his desk, “he was an English poet from, like, three hundred years ago…and…coincidentally, a Roman Catholic.”
“That counts for something”, Shawn acknowledged as he nodded with David.
“Sure”, Bryen replied as he sat at his desk and unlocked his computer. “The only reason I remember him is because I actually took the time to read his poems instead of skimming or Googling a summary. It’s more than likely from ‘Essay on Man, Epistle One’”, he continued as he typed in a sporadic, finger-smashing burst.
“‘More than likely’?” David asked as he and Erik stepped towards the side of Bryen’s desk and as Shawn weaved around them to stand beside Bryen’s chair.
“And, by ‘more than likely’, I mean, it’s either from ‘Essay on Man’ or it’s from another author, because I skimmed through everything else in that class”, Bryen remarked as he tapped his mouse. “Found it…” he continued, prompting David and Erik to peek over Bryen’s desk and look to a white screen with a column of writing down its center. “‘From pride, from pride, our very reasoning springs; account for moral, as for natural things…’”
“What does it mean; or more_”—David stepped from the screen, “what’s the poem about?”
“Well”, Bryen began as he locked his computer, “the first epistle is an argument against man’s complaints about where he is in life, and what he’s capable and incapable of; more or less, it’s kind of an ‘accept your place in life, and in the universe; God’s got this, everything’s fine; seriously, chill’—except with loftier and more poetic language. Human pride is also one of the things Pope addresses, with him basically saying if we tried to reach higher than we are capable of, we’ll skewer the Great Chain of Being—this understanding that everything in the universe is placed in a rigid order that we shouldn’t try to usurp.”
“Sounds cool”, Erik remarked, “but why would Sterling Blue mention it?”
“Maybe he liked Eighteenth century writers?” Bryen suggested with a shrug. David looked down while rubbing his cleft, the light scrape of his five-o-clock shadow persisting as the only sound in that room as Bryen, Erik, and Shawn looked to him.
“No”, David spoke as he looked up, “I don’t know why, but there has to be something else. He was trying to say something; trying to make me aware of something, but_”
“But what could it be?” Shawn asked.
“Since he’s dead, and those were his last words, that’s something we won’t be able to find out”, Bryen noted.
“I need to try”, David remarked.
“Wait, what?” Erik grunted.
“I need to find out; I need something—an answer, the directions to an answer, better understanding, proof that he was simply rambling, or proof that he was trying to tell me something more”, David began as he stepped back. “I need closure, desperately, but, even more than that…” David looked to Erik. “I want to find out how he died.”
“Wait”, Erik began while stepping, “why?”
“Why? Why not? Erik—guys—think about it”, David began as he let his hands hang, “if watching a bridge collapse into a river and atop hundreds of helpless people doesn’t make you rethink your mortality, how about the cause of that catastrophe? Doesn’t it scare any of you—the idea that there’s someone or something out there capable of mortally wounding the man who was, arguably, the strongest individual from the last century? That frightens me. I know I’m just as mortal, and I have my flaws, and I bet he did too, but Sterling Blue was an icon, and for him to be wounded with such force_”—David inhaled and closed his fists. “He had a gaping hole in the center of his chest; he might’ve been elderly but he was strong enough to last several minutes underwater, the impact with the bridge, and whatever threw him into submission, but he wasn’t strong enough to defeat what put him there. There has to be something going on, something more; otherwise, I’d bet that Harrisburg would be intact if there weren’t. In fact, I bet…I bet he knew someth
ing about his killer; I bet, if we tried, we could find him.”
“Uh, do we want to find who-or-what succeeded in killing Sterling Blue?” Bryen asked as he raised his hand.
“To bring him to justice? To make him pay for the hundreds now dead and for getting me recruited into the government? If anything, I freakin’ want answers!”
“Okay, so…I’m curious”, Erik began. “How are you going to go about doing this?”
“I have an idea.” David stepped past them, opened the door, and walked out. After glancing to one another, Shawn, Erik, and Bryen followed David as he walked into Turrisi’s room.
“Erik, gym?”
Erik, Shawn, and Bryen stopped and looked to the far end of the hall as Nate sauntered towards them in a sleeveless black shirt and grey shorts. “I can’t”, Erik replied as he continued to Turrisi’s room.
“Why not?” Nate asked as he followed.
“I’m getting ready to leave to head to…my friend’s house!” Erik called as he turned into Turrisi’s room with Shawn and Bryen.
“Why is everyone_?” Nate looked back before jogging after them, his leg outstretching and blocking the door from closure before he knelt and pressed his weight.
“Whoa now”, Shawn began as he stepped back and Nate stepped into the room.
“Close the freakin’ door”, Turrisi groaned as he looked back and waved, with David leaning over his desk, and Bryen and Erik across from him.
“What’s going on?” Nate asked as he closed the door and scanned the unlit room.
“Piekarsky woke me up from my short nap—claims he needs to CORGI something”, Turrisi mumbled.
“We’re CORGI-ing Sterling Blue”, David replied to Nate.
“Okay, seriously; CORGI was never meant to be a verb; it just sounds…weird”, Erik remarked.
“Turrisi, why’s your computer so slow?” David asked as he stared at the browser’s blank page.
“Hey, you’re the one who woke me up! My computer will load when it wants to!” Turrisi growled. “Why don’t you guys CORGI on your own computers?”
“Because if they trace the IP and find out it was you; they won’t be surprised since it’s your unpaid job”, Bryen reasoned.
“Yeah, what B said”, David replied as the canid representation took its place on the screen. “Now, Sterling Blue”, David said as Turrisi dragged his fingers to his keyboard.
“Yeah, I know”, Turrisi replied as he typed the name and selected the Return Key. The screen switched to another electronic page; not a document but, instead, something bordering a personal website, with the name ‘Sterling Blue’ emblazoned along the top of the page in large, bold font, while several tabs sat below which read ‘Biography’, ‘Statistics’, ‘Mission Reports’, and ‘News Reels’.
“Mission Reports; go to Mission Reports!” David called as he pointed to that tab.
“It won’t work. I’ve looked at his page. You need top secret clearance to read that and the ‘Statistics’ tab.”
“Would Lamback’s CORGI account work?” Nate asked.
“No; he’s, at the most, ‘secret’ clearance; maybe Director Grant, but he’s FBI—he’s smart enough to conceal his passwords when he uses them.” Turrisi selected the ‘Biography’ tab. Flashing into view with the hero’s agnomen at the top of the page was a white display lined with a bulleted list.
“Scott…Charles…Bakerson”, Erik read as he leaned over Turrisi’s shoulder.
“His death isn’t listed yet”, Bryen noted as he found Sterling Blue’s birth date, ‘2 December, 1925’, and an unclosed hyphen.
“It probably hasn’t been declassified yet”, Turrisi replied. “Remember, they still don’t know how he was killed.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out”, David replied as he nudged Turrisi’s hand from the mouse.
“Wait, what?” Turrisi remarked as he spun to David.
“Hometown…Brooklyn! Ha!” David proclaimed as he reared up, “what now, Jersey!?” he exclaimed to Bryen.
“Why would I care”, Bryen groaned.
“I found his residence”, Erik noted, “which is kind of weird, but I guess, if you’re Sterling Blue, you’re not too worried about someone finding and killing you.”
“Wait, that’s what I want!” David called as he spun to the screen, “925 Blatchley Road, Windsor, New York—I know this town, it’s near Binghamton; I drive past it every time I come to school.”
“Why do you need that address?” Turrisi asked as he stared at his screen.
“Investigation, baby!” David retorted as he reared up.
“Whatever it is, you said nothing about it to me”, Turrisi sighed as he closed the browser and then his computer’s lid.
“So who’s down for a weekend adventure?” David asked as he looked around the room.
“I have to get to Quantico. I actually have to start packing now”, Erik remarked as he stepped to the door.
“B-money?” David asked.
“I don’t know about that…” Bryen muttered as he looked away.
“Oh, come on! Stop being a Nancy!” David exclaimed.
“I’d go, but I have to work tomorrow”, Nate remarked.
“Who needs work?” David asked.
“I do”, Nate replied.
“Fine, Klinge!” David bellowed. “So it’s me, B-money_”
“Wait”, Bryen grunted.
“Turrisi? You sure you’re not down?”
“I’m finally back on Director Grant’s good side. If I stay there, maybe he’ll give me a recommendation for the FBI. If there’s one person who’ll be taken seriously by them, it’s Arthur Grant”, Turrisi explained. “Also, I have no knowledge about this whole escapade; remember?”
“No invitation for Shawn?” Shawn asked as he placed his hands on his hips.
“Albert! Good ol’ Albert!” David replied. “Would you like to help me better society?”
“I would prefer not to get myself killed or arrested or whatever might happen in New York”, Shawn scoffed.
“Come on!” David howled. “What do you want? Do you want me to bribe you? Fine; you and B will only have to pay me a quarter of the gas total, instead of each of you splitting thirds.”
“I don’t recall saying_”
“B-money, you’re going, or, I swear, I will launch your bed into the ceiling as you sleep!” David roared. “You know I’m capable of it!”
“Why don’t you just fly?” Shawn asked.
“I’m not using my powers to cross state lines; my brother did that once and was chased by the Air Force for one hundred miles”, David explained. “We’re driving, you’re going, B-money’s going, and you’re not going to complain!” he roared.
“Dude, all right, fine; so, what, are we signing out to leave?” Shawn asked.
“Seeing that we won’t be back on the dorm before curfew tonight…yeah”, David replied. “You ready for an adventure, B?”
“If we’re caught, the blame’s yours”, Bryen explained.
“Oh, we won’t get caught, and if we do, we’ll just tell the cops that we’re helping them do their jobs”, David replied. Bryen rolled his eyes, while Erik, Turrisi, and Nate glanced to one another and then, in unison, nodded.
“If you’re caught, we had nothing to do with this”, Nate proclaimed before opening the door and walking out.
“What Nate said”, Erik replied. “Now, pardon me, but I have to pack. Lamback’ll probably pick me up in an hour or so.”
“Sweet, see you on Sunday”, David replied, “and, Garcia!”
“Yeah?” Erik asked as he stopped at the room’s threshold and looked back.
“Team DX—see what you can do about getting that name”, David replied with a thumb-up and a grin.
“I’ll try, but it probably won’t happen”—at that, David’s grin weakened and his posture slackened—”but I’ll definitely try my best to get it worked out”, Erik finished as he jogged out of view.
“
Well, boys”, David began as he looked to Shawn and Bryen, “let’s get ready for some manly bonding time, eh?”
“What are you going to tell Clare?” Bryen asked.
“Youth ministry team”, David replied. “No phone service all weekend; as long as we’re back by Monday afternoon, we’re good. Let’s get ready to solve some mysteries!”
***
“...And what’s Dave doing this weekend?”
Though Erik’s eyes gaped and his hands squeezed over his sleeves, the lights inside of Lamback’s SUV were dimmed, with only the radio providing luminescence, and Erik himself faced the passenger window and examined, past the brim of his brown hood, the opaque forests along that roadside.
It’s like he always knows… Erik looked out, past the SUV’s hood and to the headlights cutting their radiant swathe along the empty, two-lane road. Then, while clearing his throat, he thrust his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. “Which Dave?”
“Oh, Piekarsky”, Lamback yawned as he lowered his left to scratch the outside of his thigh.
“Oh…” Erik paused as he shifted his legs. “I’m not sure. Probably doing homework or something. He said Clare was out of town.”
“We know”, Lamback replied as he looked through the top of the windshield to view the omnipresent blade of a waxing crescent.
“Huh…right; I guess you’d keep track of her since she’s his girlfriend”, Erik remarked as he pulled his BlackBerry from his pocket so that a portion of his screen could slide into view, returned it, and looked to the roadside.
“It was Director Grant’s orders before he was assigned as director; made me do a ludicrously thorough background check when they started dating to make sure she wasn’t an extra-national spy trying to recruit him.”
“I thought the Cold War was over?” Erik humphed.
“For the most part”, Lamback replied.
“You don’t say”, Erik hummed as he scratched the side of his head. Okay, now change the subject or something… He adjusted his seat, with the light shuffle of his blue jeans being the only sound as he reposed to an angle of one hundred degrees. “You know what?” Erik began as he pulled his hood from his head and crossed his arms, “I’ve been thinking about it, but I still need your opinion: it seems like Director Grant isn’t as mad at me as I thought.”