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Array: Byte shorts and other stories Page 10

by Cat Connor


  The cat stretched along the end of the bed and looked up at me.

  “Maybe it should just be you and me, Shrek,” I said, patting his fuzzy head. He rolled over exposing his stomach for scratching. “I’m not silly enough to take the bait.” One stroke of his stomach and he’d close his claws and teeth around my hand like a bear trap. No thanks.

  I showered fast and dressed in warm clean clothes.

  A hot shower was almost as good as six hours sleep.

  My eyes rolled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. An uneasiness crept over me. Where did it come from? I searched my mind for an answer.

  Something was tweaking in my gut but it didn’t feel like a work thing, considering the day and the total lack of balance in my life that was quite surprising.

  Breathe.

  What did I feel? Anticipation? Nerves?

  It felt like something was going to happen. I gave it a minute. The feeling settled into my bones but it didn’t feel bad. Not bad in an imminent death type way. Wandering through thoughts helped narrow the feeling to a person.

  Mitch.

  I sent a quick text.

  Sorry, today was shit. On my way back to work. Talk soon. E xx

  By the time Kurt arrived I was waiting outside the front door wearing an FBI jacket, zipped against the biting cold. I climbed into the warm car.

  “All right?” Kurt asked.

  “Uh huh.” I couldn’t say anything. All I had was a weird feeling of anticipation and nothing to base it on. My gut was traditionally more intuitive than that. Usually a song pointed me in the right direction. The deviation perplexed me.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Kurt asked flicking his headlights onto high-beam as he pulled out of the driveway.

  “Yep.”

  “Conway?” He glanced at me. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Let’s just get this over with. Where are we going?”

  “Reston,” he said. “Our suspect was last seen entering a large property in Reston.”

  “His? A Friends? He’s trespassing? The story is?”

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I wrestled it free and read the text.

  Call tonight if you get the chance. M.

  I stared at the screen and the text. The feeling was back. Butterflies? Yes. That was it. Something was up. Maybe it really was over.

  “Problem?” Kurt asked. “You want to talk?”

  I took a breath and swallowed. The butterflies flapped around in my stomach. My head shook. That was not what I wanted.

  “I need …” I looked at my phone in my hand. It buzzed again.

  Another text. It’s important. M.

  “… I need to go to Mitch’s. Now,” I said.

  “Is there something wrong?” Kurt asked, tapping the turn-signal and taking the next right. “Conway? Is there something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was something, I suspected it might not be good but I couldn’t say it was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  “My heads not in the game. You need me to be focused and I can’t right now.”

  “You’re not making a lot of sense Conway. This isn’t you.”

  I glanced down. Looked like me. Pretty sure it was me. Moving on.

  “Lee and Sam?”

  “On their way to the last known sighting of our suspect.”

  “Can you three cope without me?”

  My eyes were drawn to the dark world outside the car. I recognized an intersection. This wasn’t the way to Reston.

  “Yes, we can cope, Conway,” Kurt said as he flicked the turn signal again, this time a left turn. “Hence, I’m driving you to Mitch’s place.”

  Ten minutes of silence later, I stood on the curb outside Mitch’s house and watched Kurt drive off. He was right, this wasn’t me. Ditching my team in the middle of the night without a damn good reason was not something that happened in my world and I never had a problem concentrating.

  Darkness shrouded the house. For a split second my unannounced midnight arrival seemed like a bad idea. He could be asleep? Maybe he sleep texts? People do all manner of weird stuff when their brains switch to standby mode. So sleep texting, was a possibility.

  A deep breath shuddered through my rib cage. Just get it over with.

  He might not be alone. I frowned. Did I really think that?

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “You’re not doing yourself any favors thinking stupid shit.”

  I walked up the grass next to the driveway to muffle the sound of my cowboy boots. Quietly opening and closing the side gate. Security lighting flicked on illuminating my way to the second gate. Beyond that was a large flagstone patio, swimming pool, and the back door.

  So much for being quiet.

  The protective steel heel and toe taps fitted to my cowboy boots made sure silence wasn’t a thing on hard surfaces – sparks occasionally were.

  My boots clicked and tapped across the flagstones.

  Another set of security lighting flooded the area, the pool water appeared inky in the night. A shadow from inside the house fell across the ground by the back door. I took a breath, reminded myself I wasn’t at work, and released the grip I had on the Glock on my hip. Love the way my body reacts without conscious thought.

  The door opened.

  Mitch stood bathed in electric light. Tousled, shirtless, wearing jeans with his belt open. Smiling.

  “Hi,” I said trying to settle my nerves and convince myself his smile meant it was going to be all right. My stomach twisted into tight knots.

  “Late for a visit,” he said.

  “I can go …”

  Mitch shook his head, his smile never faltered.

  “I’d like you to stay,” he said ushering me through the door. “Feels like we’ll get early snow.” Mitch shivered.

  The door closed firmly behind us. His arms wrapped around me.

  “Missed you today,” he whispered.

  With my head on his shoulder I drank in the scent of his skin. Feeling his heart beating through my jacket. Or maybe it was my heart?

  “Missed you too.”

  “It’s nice that you miss me,” he said. “I think I like being missed.”

  I started to relax, maybe it was going to be okay.

  “Were you in bed?”

  “Yes.”

  Something red on the floor caught my eye. Petals? A hallway strewn with rose petals?

  “Mitch?” I pointed to the trail that led down the hall and out of sight. “Expecting company?” I glanced at his face.

  He bit his lower lip as he nodded.

  “Yes.”

  I pulled away. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?” The knots in my stomach were back. Tightening until I could hardly breathe.

  He shook his head, his hand grabbed mine. “I was expecting company. You.”

  I forced air into my lungs while I let his words sink in.

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know I’d come?”

  “I know you,” he replied, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. “I know you.”

  Arm in arm we walked through the house, following the flower petal trail to his bedroom. The only light in the room was the soft flickering glow emanating from several lit candles. The warm mix of roses and candles reminded me of long summer evenings by the pool.

  On a small table under the window stood a large vase of long stemmed red roses. Next to the table - a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  The butterflies were back, dancing in my stomach.

  I saw Mitch’s laptop open on the bed amidst more rose petals. “Not sleeping then. Were you working?” I asked even though it didn’t look like he was working.

  He closed the screen and moved the computer to the dresser, rose petals tumbled to the floor.

  With a smile he said, “No, I was emailing you. And here you are.”

  Synchronicity. He was good at tuning into me.

  “Wh
at’d you say in that email?” I sat on Mitch’s bed and watched him walk toward me.

  “I said I couldn’t sleep …”

  He was in front of me.

  I hooked a finger into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him a little closer.

  “Did you have anything in mind that might help you sleep?”

  He nodded. His eyes sparkled. Mitch plunged his right hand into his pocket, he pulled his hand out and then dropped to one knee.

  My moment of confusion was replaced with surprise.

  Oh, we’re here. I felt my eyes widen. We’re here?

  My heart caught in my throat. I swallowed hard hoping to force it back into my chest. “Gabrielle Rylie Conway will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Stunned.

  He took my left-hand and slid a diamond ring onto my finger. Three diamonds.

  Mitch’s voice crumbled a little as he said, “A diamond for your past, a diamond for the present, and a diamond for our future.”

  My eyes looked deep into Mitch’s and found everything I’d ever needed, wanted, and hoped for.

  “Yes.”

  Mitch leaned down, his lips met mine, softly at first then firmer with more intensity, pressing me back onto the bed.

  The End.

  12. Dying ain’t much of a Living.

  I read the article from the Miami Herald with curiosity. Naked man killed by Police near MacArthur Causeway was ‘eating’ face off victim. If I hadn’t gotten home so late from finishing up a ton of paperwork from a case I wouldn’t have read it at all.

  The twinges in my stomach were not curiosity; they were the early beginnings of fear.

  The police suggested the man was suffering from a cocaine psychosis.

  Cocaine psychosis my ass. I smelled a big fat conspiracy.

  The naked man did not attack the homeless guy and eat his face due to a cocaine psychosis. It didn’t take six rounds fired by a police officer to kill him because of a cocaine psychosis.

  Meth maybe, but that didn’t feel right either.

  Twinges became outright terror as scenarios I didn’t ever want know were possible spiraled out of control in my mind.

  I picked up my phone from the coffee table and made a call.

  While I waited I checked my watch, just in case morning had snuck up while I wasn’t looking.

  It was still the middle of the night.

  To be more accurate it was three in the morning.

  What was I even doing surfing news articles at three in the morning? Innocently waiting for sleeping. That’s what. On the fifteenth ring my call was answered.

  “It’s Ellie. Did you see that piece from the Miami Herald?”

  A sleepy reply came back, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Trust me, if you’d seen it you’d know.”

  He sighed. “When was it reported?”

  “Just after two this afternoon, they reported a naked man was killed by police while eating the face off a victim.”

  As I uttered my next words, I knew we were probably too late to contain this. Thirteen hours and counting.

  “How many shots fired?”

  He sounded fully awake now.

  “At least six.”

  “Crap.”

  “They’re saying cocaine psychosis…”

  “Good that’ll keep the media busy for a little while, where is the body?”

  “I don’t know. Talk to Miami Police.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Florida, near or on MacArthur Causeway off ramp. Google it.”

  “Any idea if the fatal was a head shot?”

  “No idea, but it would be my guess. I thought you had people trolling for this kind of event?”

  “Yeah me too. I’ll call you back.”

  The call ended.

  I jumped to my feet and flew through the house, gathering important things together.

  I packed clothes and bathroom items in record time.

  From the closet I took a gun case and lay it on my bed. I flipped the locks open and checked the contents. The case contained an SG 551 and extra magazines. From my office I took a shotgun and a box of 12 gauge shells and another box full of ammunition for the SG. I took the guns out to the truck. I put the SG case on the back seat. The shotgun I left on the passenger seat and put the box of shells on the floor.

  Back inside I put on a shoulder holster. In the shoulder holster I had my Glock 17. Extra magazines slotted into pouches on my belt. I took a drop leg holster that held another Glock 17 and put it in my pack. I pulled a jacket on and zipped it up half way. My pack lay on my bed; I added a new box of 9mm ammunition. A first aid kit sat next to the pack with my badge hanging from a chain lanyard sitting on it. I put the lanyard around my neck and tucked the badge inside my jacket.

  I took both bags to the truck and threw them in the back.

  Quickly I went back into the house and gathered my phone, a car charger, flashlights, emergency radio, and laptop and power cords. I scrabbled through my desk until I found an adapter for the laptop which would allow me to charge it from the car. We may end up without power. I figured sooner or later we’d end up without internet too but while we had it I was going to use it.

  Next I scooped up two boxes one at a time from the bottom of the pantry and set them on the counter top. Non-perishable food items and bottled water. I dropped packets of cookies, chocolate, nuts, and cereal from the pantry shelves into the boxes. It all went into the back of the truck. Along with a camp stove and extra gas from the garage, a tent and sleeping bags.

  Before I left I set the security system to fortress.

  That armed the mines around the perimeter, activated the cameras, and tracking lasers, turned the alarm on - the alarm was designed to disorientate and it was very effective. If anyone breaking in didn’t hit a mine or be zapped by a laser then the alarm would turn to a quivering vomiting jellified mess. Over kill? Some would say yes, but I’d hazard a guess that they haven’t had two of their houses blown up, they also probably haven’t considered apocalyptic scenarios as reality.

  It’s not paranoia when you know what I know.

  I locked the house and the garage. The gates, razor wire, and security system would protect the house for a while. At least until the power failed. Even then, the mines were armed. If you didn’t know they were there you couldn’t avoid them and I was the only one who knew.

  Worst case scenario.

  Always plan for the worst case. Ever since meeting Obadiah the worst-case scenario was never far away. I’d managed to keep those thoughts under wraps until now. Now the duct tape holding it all together was losing its stick. I set my phone in the holder on the dash and called Mitch.

  “Sorry, I know it’s late. This is important,” I said as soon as he answered. “Just listen. Something bad is happening. I’m picking you up in ten minutes. Pack fast.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yep.” But the world as we know it might not be. “Get ready. I’ll explain on the way.”

  I ended the call.

  My phone rang as I pulled out of the driveway.

  Obadiah’s face flashed at me from the screen.

  I answered it while I waited for the gates to close behind me.

  “Got anything else?” I said to Obadiah.

  “Body is in the county morgue, I’m having it shipped to our facility,” he said.

  Our facility. I was a hundred miles away from that facility in Virginia.

  “I’m on my away down. I will be arriving plus two.”

  “You need a respirators,” Obadiah replied.

  “I have them in the back of the truck.”

  Always.

  Worst case.

  “Put it on before you enter the facility - to be safe do it at the twenty mile mark.”

  “Hazmat suit?”

  “Not at this stage, if it’s what I think it is, then it’s airborne, it spreads just like a flu virus, via droplets from coughing, sneezin
g, talking. This contagious period only lasts a few days. We believe the virus mutates once contracted and then as it takes hold of the person it is spread by virus containing saliva.”

  “Like rabies?”

  “Yes, the initial infection causes rabies like virus in the victim which then has a similar effect on the brain.”

  “Timing?”

  “The virus incubates in the body for up to fourteen days then when it reaches the brain symptoms appear, and they’re akin to rabies and by then the virus is present in the saliva and transmitted via bites.”

  “Survival?”

  “Nil.”

  Curiosity got the better of me. “What was the shot that dropped it?”

  “A head shot. He took five shots to the chest and kept on eating.”

  “How many infected?”

  “No way of knowing. Haven’t determined where he came from. I have the CDC onto that task, they’re helping local LEO’s.”

  “What’s the cover story?”

  “Drug induced psychosis possibly due to bath salts.”

  “That doesn’t explain the CDC involvement.”

  “I told the local LEO’s that the bath salts probably contained another substance and that the CDC were the best people to investigate it at this point. DEA are assisting to lend credibility.”

  “What about the victim?”

  “Being transported to our facility. He’s critical and won’t live, but for research purposes we want him with us.”

  “Anyone else sick?”

  “Not that we know of.” He sighed. “If this is what I think it is, then the biter was infected about two weeks ago, there could be a steady stream of infections now coming to the fore.”

  Fourteen hours and counting.

  “See you soon.”

  I touched the end call icon on the screen of my phone, and drove south.

  At the gas station, I set a timer on my phone - to remind me to put my respirator on at the eighty-mile mark. That would put me twenty miles out. No sense risking contamination.

  Neither of us had said it but we both knew what we thought it was.

  Two years ago two viruses went missing in New Zealand.

  They were intercepted and hidden by an intelligence officer. Unfortunately he had been exposed to both viruses. Another kiwi operative found the viruses still contained in separate safe containers. We never found out how the first officer became exposed. The kiwi operative also located his body and watched as it reanimated. It was put down by Obadiah. The incident area was sanitized.

 

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