by D. C. Gomez
“Are you ready?” Valentina was saying from the outside.
“Yes.” I was as ready as I ever could be. She walked in and smiled.
“Good. All I want you to do is relax. Close your eyes and just let go. I’m going to hold your space, which means I will be silent while I work. If you need anything, please just let me know. I’ll let you know when it’s time to turn around. You ready?” She gave me one of those smiles you give lost little kids. I nodded back, afraid to say a word.
Trying to relax was hard, but I closed my eyes and slowly breathed in and out. I wasn’t sure how I was going to relax, since I was more stressed just from coming in. I focused my attention on the music. Valentina placed her hands on my scalp, and her touch was firm but soothing. I could feel the tension on my skull as she worked her magic. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but slowly I felt the pressure I was carrying start to melt. I decided to trust her and just let go.
“OK sweetie, I’m going to step outside and let you get dressed. Take your time getting off the table.”
Valentina’s voice sounded far away. Did I fall asleep? How long was I out? I slowly moved around. I couldn’t describe it, but my body felt light and more limber. I rubbed my shoulders. I didn’t realize how much tension I was carrying till it was gone. No wondered people did this all the time. It was amazing. I hated coming, but now I didn’t want to get up. A clock by a table on the far end of the room told me I been here thirty minutes. I needed to get moving.
When I stepped outside the room, Valentina was waiting with a large glass of water. Constantine explained that everything was paid for, but I still needed to leave a tip. I wasn’t sure how much of a tip to leave, so I left a twenty on the table.
“How do you feel?” Valentina was looking at me with concern in her eyes.
“That was amazing. Thank you so much.” I truly meant it. Valentina rushed at me and gave me a huge hug.
“I’m so happy. Here, make sure to drink plenty of water. You’ll need it to flush all the impurities we moved in your body. I hope next time we will do a full body. Patty said you do lots of running. A massage will be great for your legs.” Valentina looked like a kid in a candy store, way too excited.
“That sounds good. I think I can handle that.” Honestly, I probably could get used to massages. If she can work my leg muscles the same way, I would seriously pay money for that. Lately, I was always feeling tight and tense. Except now I was ready for a nap.
“Look at you. You look radiant.” Patty was coming out of her room, smiling at me. “Are you ready for your nails?” After the massage, nails looked like a breeze.
“Sure, let’s go.”
“Bye, Isis. See you next time,” Valentina said.
I followed Patty to her room. Across the hall, two older ladies were sitting at a hair washing station. The hair portion of the salon was set up with the sinks in the back that all the stylists shared. The two older ladies had their heads wrapped in some plastic caps. I had no idea what was underneath them, but it looked scary. I took a seat in front of Patty with my back toward the older ladies, but I could still hear them.
“What color do you want your nails?” Patty was asking me as she looked at her extensive collection. I hadn’t even thought about that.
“Oh, wow. I have no idea.” How do people choose? Is the nail color supposed to match my clothes? This was really hard.
“What’s your favorite color?” Patty asked, looking at me.
“Blue.” Are people allowed to wear blue nail polish?
“Yes, I got just the thing for you.” Patty walked over with a couple of bottles and started pulling instruments from her table drawer. They looked sharp and scary. I had no idea what was going to happen, so I concentrated on something else.
“Honey, let me tell you what happened. Janice’s husband went crazy.” The older ladies were talking to one another, and I focused on them. “One day he had the flu. The next day he woke up like he was possessed. He started screaming and hitting her. She said he even tried to bite her.”
“You’re kidding me. What did she do? Is she OK?” I heard the other lady reply.
“Honey, you know Janice is a tough cookie. She took one of her iron skillets and nailed him in the head. She went straight Madea on him.” The two ladies started laughing. “She had that poor boy committed, and they’re running a test on him. Bless his heart.”
Ouch. I’d been in the South long enough to know that “bless his heart” was not a nice thing to say.
“Don’t pay too much attention to those two. They’re notorious for exaggerating,” Patty said. “Sorry about that. It just seems a lot of weird stuff is happening lately.” My cheeks were heating up, and I knew I was blushing.
“Honey, a lot of weird stuff is going on. A couple of my clients who are nurses said there’s an increase of strange cases at the ER. They’re afraid a new drug might be going around.” Patty was busy cleaning my nails and trimming the cuticles.
“We don’t need any of that around here,” I replied softly. I wasn’t sure what to think, but I was impressed by Patty’s skills. She started filing my nails and giving them some shape. I was mesmerized by it. We felt into a comfortable chitchat as she did her work.
Chapter 9
Have you ever wondered if you were privileged—or even spoiled? For the first time in my life, I had to ask myself that. Unfortunately, the answer was yes. How did I know I was both spoiled and privileged? After spending fifteen minutes arguing about which car to take on our little Pestilence field trip, the thought became clear. I really wanted to drive, but both Bartholomew and Bob believed I was a menace behind the wheel. Bob refused to ride in Ladybug, and Bartholomew didn’t want to ride in the Beast, due to the lack of space. I had to agree with him on that one. With all the equipment he was taking that couldn’t be exposed to the elements, the Beast was out.
Constantine was still pissed about Pestilence in general, so the argument put him over the edge. He sent us in Bumblebee just to get rid of us. He also refused to go with us. Every time someone mentioned Pestilence he started coughing up hairballs. Trust me, it was pretty disgusting. It took us another ten minutes to load up all of Bartholomew’s gear before we were ready to go. I wasn’t sure what Constantine was planning to do while we were gone. He said he had calls to make and people to set up. The cat had more people than the pope. How was that possible?
Bartholomew had programmed the address into Bumblebee’s GPS. He was in the back seat, working on his computer and pouting. I was not very familiar with twelve-year-old boys, but if Bartholomew was any indication, they were moody. Bartholomew was still upset that he had to leave his creation. At the same time, he was asked personally to check out the site. He sat in the back and ignored us. I was ready for this season to pass.
Bob was in his driving mode, which translated into absolute focus and silence. He was ultra-vigilant for strange anomalies on the road. On several occasions, his paranoia saved us from wild shooters. I had to give it to him. He made the job look good. That left me to stare into space. We were driving east on I-30, heading toward Hope, Arkansas. For some strange reason, this was one of my favorite routes. The Interstate was clean, the trees always changed colors during the fall, and most of the time drivers were respectful. I preferred going east on I-30 rather than west. That drive was dull and even more boring. Today I was in no mood to admire the beauty around me. I felt edgy and nervous.
“This is weird. According to the GPS, the directions they gave us are the same ones as the chicken plant in Hope.” Those were the first words Bartholomew had said in the last fifteen minutes. The lab was only forty-two miles away, so in Texas driving was less than forty minutes.
“Are you sure?” Bob asked Bartholomew, without taking his eyes off the road.
“There is a chicken plant in Hope.” Unlike Bob, I had the freedom to turn around to talk to Bartholo
mew.
“Yeah, and it’s the largest employer in the area, with over five hundred employees.” I always wondered where Bartholomew found his information and how he managed to know it would be important.
“OK, how many people live in Hope?” I probably needed to do my research, but why bother when you have a human encyclopedia with you?
“Over ten thousand people. I’m surprised. I figured it was as small as Wake Village or Nash.” At least he was still capable of being surprised.
“Wasn’t President Clinton born in Hope? I passed a signed around there all the time.” That sounded like an important thing to know, but it was a little before my time. I didn’t know many kids who cared about politics. I was one of them. My godmother didn’t help. She never followed politics or the news. “I think they have a museum for him. We should go check it out.”
“Nah, we’re good. It’s probably not that great, anyway.” Bartholomew never turned down a trip to a museum.
“Are you feeling OK?” I had to ask. He couldn’t be this stressed about the competition.
“Of course. It just seems such a long drive just for a house.”
Long drive? The boy made me drive to Dallas to check out the Perot Museum. There was something shady here. “OK, back to the chicken plant. According to these coordinates, Pestilence lab is right underneath the chicken plant.” He was changing the topic. I bit my lip and let it go. I would find out eventually. I needed to get back to work.
“Bart, how is that possible? I’m sure the city wouldn’t authorize two businesses on top of each other.” I have seen some crazy zoning issues around these parts, but even that one would raise red flags.
“I don’t think the city or the workers in the plants know about it.” Bartholomew’s voice got soft as he spoke. I turned around more in my seat so I could have a better view of him.
“Please explain, and stop leaving us in suspense.” I wanted to know what was going on before we got to the lab.
“Yes, Bartholomew, please clarify. In English and slowly. No genius talk today.”
At least the Jedi master decided to join the conversation. Thankfully he was focused on the road and not trying to watch Bartholomew.
“That’s the amazing part. The lab is underneath the plant. According to the directions, we must enter through the side door across the street.”
Sometimes dealing with supernatural being will make your head hurt. My head was pounding with information overload right about now.
“Great, so we have a secret underground lab just around the corner from us. I’m not feeling cozy here.” Pestilence gave me the creeps. Having her this close didn’t feel like a coincidence.
“Don’t go over-rationalizing things, Isis. We need your focus on the here and now and not conspiracy theories.” That was a joke. The chief conspirator on the planet was giving me advice.
“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.” I turned around and crossed my arms. I could do pouty as well as any preteen boy.
“We’re being followed.” Bob’s voice was grave. “Isis, are you ready?” Bob gave me a quick glance as he cautiously maneuvered through the traffic. I reached under my seat and pulled out a Smith & Wesson from the holster attached to the bottom of the seat.
While most schools and federal installations practice emergency drills, our family practices in-case-of-being-followed drills. I had never killed anyone (besides Trek), and I wanted to avoid the experience as much as possible. At the same time, I had no problems laying down suppressive fire. I just prayed that nobody on the other side walked in front of the bullets. I checked my gun and clicked the safety off.
“Bart, are you ready back there?” Everyone had a part to make sure we were all prepared. Bob was the driver, and if I was in the vehicle, I was the gunner. Bartholomew and Constantine were supposed to lie down in the back seat and avoid getting killed. I liked their jobs better.
“In position.” I glanced quickly over, and he was indeed lying in the back seat with his computer on his chest.
“Well,” he said. “That answers Death’s question if Pestilence’s lab was bugged.”
“You talked to Death?” I had missed the follow-up meetings. I sucked at my job at times.
“Yeah, while you were getting your nails done. Death had several things she wanted me to look for while we were there.” Bartholomew was a persistent little man. He was still typing in the most bizarre position.
“Bob, are you sure they’re following us?” I was hoping he was wrong. Unfortunately, a white car suddenly pulled up to us on my right. Before I could speak, the driver was firing at us.
“Holy Jesus Christ,” I screamed as I ducked down. Not sure why I yelled. Probably out of habit. Bumblebee, like all the vehicles in Reapers, had bulletproof windows and armored sides.
At such a close distance, the driver was able to put a few cracks in my window, but nothing dangerous. The driver was a redheaded woman with huge sunglasses and a weird straw hat. Unfortunately, it didn’t take her long to figure out the windows were bulletproof and turn her assault elsewhere. Bob had hit the brakes to let the white vehicle pass us. He wasn’t fast enough. Our speed-racer friend hit both of the tires on my side. Once I was out of her line of fire, I lowered my window and fired a few shots her way. At least she had the common sense not to do a U-turn.
“Oh God, Constantine is going to kill us,” Bartholomew was saying from the back seat. “How bad is it?”
I didn’t want to know. I knew Bartholomew was right, and Constantine was going to be livid.
“Is everyone OK?” That was part of the drill—checking for injuries and shock victims. Not sure why, since Bob could tell we were OK. He pulled over to the side of the road. Traffic was light, and I was praying nobody was paying us that much attention.
“We’re good, but not the tires.” I was Captain Obvious today. I was pretty sure Bob knew precisely what the damages were.
“I only have one spare with me,” Bob said, like he was disappointed with himself. Like anybody else carries more than one spare. I had a feeling that from now on all of our vehicles would carry at least two extra tires each.
“I need to call this in.” He shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Let me see how bad the damage is, and I’ll call the boss.”
Bob was a brave man. Bartholomew and I watched him climb out of Bumblebee. He took a couple of pictures and then proceeded to make the call. I was so happy I was inside the vehicle. In this situation, I was more afraid of Constantine than the shooter. That girl had just signed her death sentence. Bumblebee was family.
“How many contracts do you think Constantine will put out on that girl?” Bartholomew asked me from the back seat.
“Enough to make sure there’s nothing left of her but fertilizer.” It was sad, but Constantine did not know the meaning of overkill. That girl was doomed.
“You are so right.” Bartholomew laughed softly. “Whatever is going on at Pestilence lab, this shooter is involved. I’m sure of it.” I glanced over so I could better see Bartholomew.
“How can you be so sure?” I had plenty of people that tried to kill me on a daily basis. This could be any one of them.
“Nobody knew we were coming unless they were listening in to our call. Our system is clean. I checked daily. We’re less than ten miles from the lab with an easy exit right behind us. Anybody who knows enough about Pestilence probably knows about Death. We’re driving Bumblebee, a very distinct car. Not very hard to guess where we’re going. We told them the time. All they had to do was wait for us to pass.”
I leaned my head against the headrest. He was right, and this made things even worse. Whoever this person was, she was armed and dangerous. They were smart enough to plan this little show and had no issues killing us.
“This means whatever is going on in that lab is worse than we expect if they don’t want us there,�
� I told Bartholomew. Between zombies running loose in Texarkana and killer drivers, this week was turning out to be full of excitement. I hated exciting times. Bob got back in the car, his face a little pale.
“Do we want to know?” I didn’t, but figured I should at least check.
“No, no you don’t. He’s sending Reggie over. I feel bad when he finds that girl.”
I had to agree with Bob. I didn’t want to get killed, but I also feared the wrath of Constantine. I feared Constantine’s warmth more. “Bartholomew, please call Pestilence and let them know we’re running late.”
He leaned his head against his door and started scanning around. “Isis, I’ll watch the front. Keep an eye on the rear. Shoot anything suspicious.”
I turned completely around in my seat, sitting in the lotus position and facing back. If Constantine needed Reggie, Reggie would drop anything for him. Reggie was the number one towing service for all the supernatural community in the four-states area. The wait was going to be short. Still, we were not taking any chances being sitting ducks again. Being late was going to make a horrible first impression.
Chapter 10
It took less than ten minutes to reach the plant after Reggie was done. I had never been to a chicken plant. To be honest, I have never been around live chickens. I had no idea what to expect, so I wasn’t prepared. From the outside, the plant looked like any typical business, except it was huge. It was at least the length of a football field. The place was massive. The plant was the only building for acres. On the opposite side of the street was a large parking lot for all the employees. Next to the parking lot stood a pretty decent-size pond. It looked out of place.
It wasn’t the building that took my breath away, but the smell. Chicken plant was a very politically correct way to say slaughterhouse. As soon as we reached the first building, it hit us. It was the most wretched smell I had experienced in my life. That was saying a lot, since I’d been around soldiers after days of training with no shower. Those boys smelled like roses compared to this. Bartholomew stated gagging, and even Bob was looking ill. I was taking shallow breaths, trying to avoid puking or passing out. Bumblebee was bulletproof, but not smell proof.