by D. C. Gomez
“I have no idea what he was packing, but the explosion knocked him twenty feet in the air against the building. That’s what the guys on the roof said. The explosion was so strong it blew out half of the house’s windows.” Eric was looking at the damaged Beast left behind. “We’re lucky Bob warned us. It would have been bad for us.”
It was a good thing Eric had no clue what Bob was carrying.
“Poor Bob. He liked his truck.” I was hoping to change the topic somehow.
“Isis, no offense.”
You know every time somebody starts a sentence that way, you’ll be offended. “Sometimes I think you’re a magnet for car explosions and mayhem.”
Oh yeah, I was offended. I gave Eric a dirty look.
“You cannot possibly blame that on me. I was standing right next to you.” How was this my fault? I didn’t tell Bob to be carrying half an armory with him.
“I didn’t say it was your fault. But you have to admit, crazy things happen when you’re around.”
Eric had lost his mind in that explosion if he thought I agreed with that.
“Reggie is on his way. He can give us a ride when he gets here,” Bob informed me as he walked back.
“I can give you a ride if you don’t mind waiting for a little. They don’t need me here anymore,” Eric offered.
“That would be great. I’d hate to wait for Reggie to cool the Beast enough to move it. We need to make it back and check on the status of William.” Bob sounded calm, but he had wrinkles forming on his forehead. He was not happy at all.
“Who’s William?” Eric asked.
Before I could change the topic, Bob answered. “Isis’s date.”
I was praying the conversation ended there.
“Your date was today? How did it go?” Why was Eric even asking this? My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t talk.
“He turned into a zombie, and Isis knocked him out. Eugene has him at Reapers, running experiments on him.” Bob was too helpful at times.
“And you doubted that you were mayhem. I can’t believe you knocked the poor guy out. Ruthless!” Eric was laughing. I was never going to live that down.
“I didn’t have any choice. I couldn’t afford for him to go full zombie in the middle of CiCi’s pizza.” I was a horrible person, but I didn’t feel too bad for hitting him.
“You went on a date to Cici’s pizza? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I was not finding Eric’s laughter amusing at this point. And he just kept laughing, even with me glaring at him.
“Hey, I didn’t pick the place.” I wasn’t sure how else to defend myself.
“Sorry, Isis, but you need to admit that is funny.” Eric was trying to control his laughter, but it wasn’t working.
“So Eric, did your people find out anything about the drugs inside?” Bob was watching the third group of people being dragged away.
“That’s the weird thing. They didn’t find anything more than a few bags of weed. If they had anything else, they’re not telling us.” That calmed him right down.
“If you do find out, please let us know. It could help.” I doubted it. That group looked more like lost souls than criminal masterminds. Another dead end, and all in one day. This was becoming a new record for me.
Chapter 18
It was late afternoon by the time we walked into Reapers. Bob and I both smelled like smoke and were looking rough. I didn’t realize that when Bob knocked me down we had landed in mud. I was happy to be in one piece, so I didn’t complain. Now I was feeling sticky and dirty. We headed straight upstairs to report. All the lights were on, so hopefully the rest of the boys were in one place. I wasn’t looking forward to tracking everyone down in the whole building. When we walked in, Constantine was sitting in his favorite spot on top of the leather couch. He jumped off the back and strolled toward us.
“You two are on a roll,” Constantine said. “First bullet holes in Bumblebee and now a blown truck. Poor Beast.”
“Reggie really should stop broadcasting his frequency.” For some strange reason, the entire supernatural community in the four states area followed Reggie. He had more followers than a YouTube channel. It was crazy.
“He tried once, and we all found it again. He’s better than CNN.” Constantine was a little too proud of that fact. I had a feeling he was personally involved in the discovery of the new code. He was nosy like that.
“Bob, I’m so sorry. Poor Beast,” Bartholomew said from the doorway. He was coming in from his bedroom. He was carrying a pack of cables and some strange controller. I guessed he was working on his robot.
“Thanks, Bart. At least he went down in style. That explosion knocked the little guy at least twenty feet in the air. Priceless.” Bob was proud of his baby. I couldn’t say anything. Last year my blue minivan, the Whale, went down in flames as well. We were all a bit crazy with our vehicles.
“Well, I left you a list of potential vehicles on your desk. Let me know which one you like, and we’ll order it tonight.” Bartholomew was always on top of things. “By the way, why are you both so dirty? You weren’t in the Beast when it blew up?”
“Thank God we weren’t, or we’d both be gone,” I answered.
Bob provided the rest of the details. “When we hit the dirt for cover, we landed in mud. The smell is from standing next to the Beast.” Everyone nodded.
“We got bad news. According to Eric, there haven’t been any abnormal activities from the regular pushers in Texarkana. Not to mention no increase in hospital visits from the usual users.”
We were running out of suspects here.
“In that case, we can cross out the human dealers.” I did not like how Constantine said that.
“Why do I have the feeling there are other dealers I know nothing about?” I was not ready for more insane information, but by the smile on Constantine’s face, I knew I didn’t have a choice.
“Of course we have more than human dealers. Those dealers cater to a particular community. They might have a large demand, but they’re not the only ones. It might be time to start looking at the supernatural community.” Constantine was pleased with himself.
Bartholomew shot me a look that said how much he didn’t like that idea. Bob was listening from the kitchen as he opened the freezer.
“Boss, do you have a lead, and when are we heading there?” Bob asked from inside the fridge. I had no idea what he was looking for. I was tired of standing, so I dropped down on one of the dining chairs. Bartholomew followed me while Constantine made himself comfortable on the kitchen island. I had a feeling he enjoyed looking down on us.
“I know a guy.” This was already sounding bad. Constantine smiled wickedly. “He is a powerful dark wizard. It’s too dangerous to go at night, so you’ll need to wait until morning.”
“Every time one of you says ‘I know a guy,’ it only means trouble. How many people can you all know?” I couldn’t help myself from asking. This was a horrible pattern.
“We know a lot. It just happens all might not apply here.”
I shook my head. Constantine’s answer did not amuse me.
“That’s perfect. In that case, I got time to make some banana fosters for us.”
We were all looking at Bob in shock. His baby had just got blown up to all heaven, and he wanted to make flaming bananas. Bob might need therapy over this.
Constantine was the first to respond. “I want mine with salted caramel ice cream.”
“That sounds great. I want one too.” Bartholomew did not waste time putting in his order.
“Isis, the same for you?” Bob asked as he peeled the bananas.
“Why not? Sounds great.”
“Good, I’ll make them all the same. I hope Eugene doesn’t have any allergies.”
Bob was always conscious of other people’s needs.
“Where is Eugene?” I still wasn’t used to the additional member. At times I forgot he was supposed to be here.
“In the lab, working. He said he needed some privacy. So I left him with all the supplies. I left your keys on your dresser.” Bartholomew was back to playing with his cables as he spoke.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I did. Bartholomew was probably the most respectful one when it came to taking care of others’ property. I figured he was that way since he took great care of his own stuff. “So what are you working on, Bart? How is the robot?” I was afraid to ask, but Bartholomew did not look like he was ready to kill the world.
“It’s going great; I’m almost done. I got a few wiring issues to correct in the controller box, but other than that it’s great. I guessed I just needed to step away from it for a while, and then the solution appeared.” Bartholomew gave me his biggest smile, and I was thrilled. Maybe he was ready to come back to normal.
“Wasn’t it Einstein that said, the level of the solution will never be found at the same level as the problem?” I loved that saying; I just had a hard time following it. It was hard for me to separate myself from a problem at times and allow for answers to come naturally to me.
“He was right, and I needed just to step away.” Bartholomew was smiling as he fiddled with his cables. I stretched in my chair and debated about getting up to shower when Eugene burst through the door.
“I hate that woman.” Eugene was almost screaming. No need to ask what woman he was referring to. “She’s good. I have been chasing rabbit holes all days, trying to crack her code.” That did not sound very encouraging.
“Did you figure it out?”
Eugene’s shoulder slumped when I asked. “Not yet, but we’re working on it. I’m sending all my findings to the lab. We’re working multiple theories at the same time. She is not going to get away with this.” Eugene was pacing back and forth. I was pretty sure our dear rogue accountant was not making it easy at all for the boys.
“What happened to your lab coat?” Constantine was inspecting Eugene from his location. Eugene was looking embarrassed. His lab coat was covered in all sorts of crazy stains, not to mention the burned marks everywhere.
“I was working on your knockout serum, and a couple of beakers exploded. Don’t worry, we don’t have a fire in the lab, and everyone is safe. I did test the formula, and it knocked your date, William, right back to sleep.” Eugene smiled brightly at the last part. “I’m not sure exactly how you’re going to give it to the zombies.”
“How did you used it on him?” If Eugene did it with William, maybe we could so the same with the rest.
“I gave him a shot,” Eugene replied.
Yeah, that was out of the question.
“Can it be administered topically?” Bartholomew asked, casually looking up at Eugene.
“Umm, that’s possible. I can make it happen. I’ll need to make it stronger to ensure it takes them out quick.” Eugene looked like he was running the formula in his head.
“Great. Can we make bullets out of them?” Bob asked from the stove. He started flaming the bananas, and we all stared in silence. The loft was smelling delicious.
“Let’s avoid guns; we don’t want the impact to actually kill them,” Constantine said. That was rare, since Constantine was the first one that wanted to blow things up. That showed how strongly Death felt about preserving each soul.
“I have a blowgun. Would that work?” I remembered my gift. Maybe those things would come in handy.
“Maybe, but you’ll need to be close and have lots of lung capacity.”
I frowned when Eugene answered. That was not very helpful.
“By the way, why do you have a blowgun?” He was looking at me, confused.
“It was a present from another one of Death’s interns. Like a welcome-to-the-family gift.” I had to smile. It was pretty sweet.
“Wow, so not fair. I got a pocket protector when I joined Pestilence lab,” Eugene said.
“That’s a perfect gift for you,” Constantine replied. “You’ll get a lot more use from that than a blowgun in a research facility. Don’t dismiss it. Do you use your pocket protector?”
“Yeah, every day. My lab coats kept getting stained before,” Eugene explained. “It just sounds so geeky.”
I wanted to go over and hug Eugene as he spoke. He looked so vulnerable.
“Eugene, you are a chemist in the best facility in the world with the smartest people on this planet. Of course it’s geeky. It’s not like Pestilence recruits a bunch of jocks. Own it and be the greatest geek in town. Don’t dismiss who you are. Nobody can take that away from you, so stand up tall and know you are unstoppable.”
I was amazed. Eugene did as Constantine told him. Constantine never looked down at people. Instead, it was almost like he could see their real potential and soul.
“How about paintball guns? I still have all the ones we got for my birthday party,” Bartholomew added to the table. He placed his new creation down and smiled brightly. “I’m done. I’m going to dominate tomorrow’s competition.”
Eugene looked at Bartholomew very confused. I waved at him before he could start asking questions.
“How about paintballs?” I needed to keep this meeting focused.
“We can make that work. I just need to make a whole lot more and package them. The last part will take time.” Eugene was doing that thing where he stared at the ceiling. I was starting to figure out he did that when he was calculating stuff in his head.
“I can help with that. I got plenty of practice from Bart’s party. I just need to take a shower, and I’ll be down there.”
“Me too. I got plenty of time now,” Bartholomew chirped.
Oh, thank you, God. My boy was back.
“Nobody is going anywhere before dessert. Isis, grab some plates and the ice cream. Bart, get everyone drinks. Eugene, sit down before you pass out. Let’s go, everyone. It’s been a long day. Let’s eat in memory of the Beast.”
Bob did not have to tell us twice. Bart and I were on our feet, following orders. Eugene was looking lost, but at least he did as he was told. Constantine jumped on the table and took his sit. The place smelled amazing, and I was so grateful to be home. Bob was officially my hero.
Chapter 19
It was Thursday morning and according to my clock it was 6:15 a.m. I was planning to get up at five to go running. Unfortunately, we didn’t finish making those knockout paintballs till way past midnight. I had flashes of being deployed and filling sandbags. Every time I thought we were done, more bags appeared. It was like they were multiplying in the back. Those little balls were the same way.
I was pretty sure we had enough ammo to knock out both the Arkansas and Texas side of Texarkana. I was still tired and sore from leaning over filling those little balloons. At least we knew that one dose of the serum was good for at least five hours. Eugene had to hit poor William with another dose while we worked. I was afraid to ask Eugene precisely what was in them. He did assure us that they had no harmful side effects. I was praying he was right, or Death would be mad at us.
One of the many lights on my phone was flashing. Bartholomew had programmed my new phone, and now I got notifications for everything. It drove me nuts. I used my cell for my alarms, the only reason it was still in my room. While the clock on my night table had a lot of fun memories for me, I hated the alarm in it. So I was stuck with my cell phone and all the weird stuff that came with it. I pulled the phone closer and checked to see what notification was blowing up my phone now.
Unlike Constantine, who was the social media king of the house, both on the human side and the supernatural, I sucked at it. Constantine was so impressive. Not only did he have two YouTube channels—one for humans and one for supernatural—he also had a twitter account. I had no idea where he found the time. I struggled just to keep up with my text m
essages and voice mail.
I had a text from Abuelita.
Isis, emergency. I need you at the store at 0700. I’m panicking. Too much to do, not enough people or time. Please help.
I was so happy Abuelita’s texts were getting better. For the longest time, I had no clue what she was talking about. Out of habit, I glanced at my clock on the night table for the time instead of the phone I was holding. My brain was still not focusing, because it took me a minute to process the information. By the time I processed the text, it finally hit me that I had less than thirty minutes to get up and get ready to head to Abuelita’s. I hated short notices, and lately my whole life was full of them.
I rushed to the restaurant with my hair still wet and messy at five minutes after seven. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it was a giant disaster zone. It honestly looked like a hurricane or a tornado had hit the poor place. Abuelita was extremely organized, and everything had a place in the kitchen. So to see this monstrosity was out of character for her.
“Do I want to ask what evil-doer attacked your kitchen?” I was trying to make it a joke. Unfortunately, my voice sounded more like an accusation.
“Thanks to all the stars and the moon, you are here. I wasn’t sure what to do.” Abuelita rushed at me and gave me a huge hug. What was going on?
“I’m so confused. What’s so urgent that I had to drive here so early?” I could always be honest with Abuelita, and she never got offended.
This College Bowl is going to be the death of me.” Abuelita had released me from her bear hug but was holding my arm. She was not letting go. Was she afraid that I might run away?
“It’s killing you and poor Bartholomew. He has been stressed for over a month.” Nothing should be this crazy. “How can I help?” I had no clue what I was supposed to do here.
“I need your organizational skills now. I’m making patelitos to compete with that crazy fried-pie lady. She is making a killing and stealing my peeps.” Abuelita started pacing the kitchen. That was a terrifying sight, since space was very cramped.