She ordered the Chicken Parmesan, knowing she would not eat the entire thing. She was shocked at how many people were around. For a fleeting second, she wondered if she’d made a mistake choosing this as their next battleground. She knew that the risk was not to him alone, once she secret was allowed to come out…and it would get out. Neither was it solely to the innocent people of the restaurant, nor to Tina alone. She had put herself at risk, simply by positioning herself around so many people. Society feared the unknown. Even when the unknown was absolute knowledge.
“This should be interesting,” she said to herself. Her insides cried out. “No, No, Tina. It’s my turn to play.
* * *
He pulled the Bronco into Olive Garden’s front parking lot. It was very crowded. He had difficulty finding a spot that lent itself to a quick getaway.
As he made it to the doorway, he was met by a couple of smiling teens in matching uniforms. He wanted to crush them where they stood. Instead, he walked by silently. Nodded in reluctant acknowledgment.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m meeting someone,” he whispered, adding a soft growl to his words, letting the man know he was not to be bothered.
It took him but a few seconds to find her. She was sitting alone, dressed far too flashy to be appealing. She was destroying the innocence that defined Tina’s otherwise worldly demeanor.
He approached her, she looked his direction but made no move to exit the building, or to approach him. He could see the shock in her eyes and it exhilarated him.
* * *
When she saw him, her entire spine tingled with anticipation. He was being very bold, even for him. It wasn’t like him to just march up and say hi. Would that his intentions were that benign.
As he approached, she squelched all the fear inside her. Nothing was going to stop her plan. Least of all herself.
“Take a seat,” she said, pointing to a chair across from her. If he could be bold, she thought to herself, she could play right along with him.
Without a word, he sat down.
The waiter approached.
“Can I get you anything, sir? A beverage perhaps?”
“Nothing,” he scowled.
“Now dear,” she interrupted, “don’t be anti-social.” She turned to the water. “He’ll have an iced tea. You like tea, right? Yes, definitely like tea. I remember.”
The waiter scribbled on his notepad and shuffled off to the kitchen.
“Breadstick?” she asked, tilting the basket in his direction.
“I could destroy you,” he growled.
“No bread for you then?”
The silverware began to rattle as he tilted his head back. Slowly, he lifted his arms.
“Hey now!” she whispered, leaning toward him, “Is that really necessary?”
“Death must come,” he growled. The table shimmered twice, settling back down. She leaned back, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah, yeah, death must come. You know, we really gotta work on expanding your vocabulary.”
The waiter returned and placed the drink in front of him, laying a still-packaged straw beside the glass.
“Thank you,” she said. The waiter nodded, retreating back to his duties.
“I’m going to destroy you,” he said, drawing a bit of attention from a nearby family.
“Look,” she whispered, leaning in again, so as to avoid being heard. “There’s two ways this can go. We fight it out right here in front of all these witnesses, in which case not only will we both be destroy, but all these folks will as well. Or we can sit down to a nice dinner and get to know one another again. I for one don’t like to destroy anyone on an empty stomach.”
“You will die either way,” he sneered.
“True,” she said, calmly. “So can I enjoy my Last Supper here before you go all destroying me and stuff?”
As he got up to leave, she grabbed his arm. “No more deaths, you understand me? No more innocents die! They don’t understand. They don’t know who you are. Your fight is with me, not with them.”
“Think you can stop me?”
“Don’t make me try!” she warned him, gritting her teeth.
“You’re not doing very good so far,” he said, smiling the most malevolent smile she’d ever seen. Her mind filled with horrified screams and images that could only be described as ultimate torture and death. She knew it was him. She knew it was the screams of the three she could not save. She knew she would not win.
He shook his arm loose, bent toward her.
“See you tomorrow,” he whispered.
“Not if I see you first!”
* * *
Lisa noticed the commotion out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw Tina, or at least what appeared to be Tina, pushing some guy away. From the distance, Lisa couldn’t be sure but it didn’t look like she was very happy to see the man.
She’d gotten very interested in the life details of one Tina Miles as of late. For reasons she could not yet explain.
“Sorry, Alex. Yes I’m listening.”
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday
Flannigan Project: Entry 1
Personal Diary of Dr. Bryan Flannigan.
I’m beginning this journal because I don’t know where this project will take me. What it might do to me. We’re going farther with our research than we have ever gone before. Today, Dr. Benson asked me if I was really going to be our first test subject for Project Flannigan. I told him any project that bears my name deserves my best efforts. And my total commitment. He questioned whether or not I would best serve the project by being its chief test dummy. I told him it was my decision and forced him out of my office. I do not have to explain myself to Dr. Benson! We are making gods here. We’re giving humanity a second chance to right ten thousand years of wrong. This time, we will not eat the Forbidden Fruit. I will see to that. If there truly is a God, we will all know Him personally by the time this project is through.
* * *
More class, more Devin. Tina had arrived at college pretty early this morning. She had a good, solid hour before her first class. She was, uncharacteristically, seated in the open, crowded mall, on one of the many black and gray marble benches. She was chilly.
The breeze at this hour was ethereal, possessing the power to chill all it touched right to the core. People came and went, rushing by her, hugging themselves tight as the breeze wrapped them in its frigid grip. She found herself enjoying the introspection. With each person that passed, she would imagine their stories, as if she were reading their soul. Where were they headed? Where had they been? What were they thinking as they passed her, seated alone in the otherwise crowded area that separated two lines of buildings on the campus grounds of Kilgore College. When you’re bored, with an hour to kill before your next class, you do whatever it takes to amuse yourself. Even Tina wasn’t immune to that. She chose people who didn’t seem chatty. People, she hoped, would not take her stare as an invite to engage her with more than a passing greeting.
People watching. It was a new hobby. One she wasn’t good at. She was comfortable being a quiet observer. She was a young person. Curiosity came natural for her. But the idea of someone getting a sudden urge to engage in conversation was all too unappealing. People were risks. Unacceptable risks.
Quietly, she chuckled to herself. She thought about how bipolar she sounded, thankful that her thoughts were hers alone. She didn’t like people, but she loved to people watch now. She didn’t like talking, but she loved to listen. And, ironically, she fancied herself articulate. Such confidence, but so much frailty and shyness enveloping it. Such a duality and yet working for a psychologist now. Well, maybe he can prescribe her some much-needed medication at least.
“Well,” Tina sighed, “add one more irony to this list.”
“You don’t say?”
Devin’s voice startled a deep blush into her face. She could not form a reply. Quiet, she waited for Devin to speak again.
“Sure,” Tina said, still half smiling, doing her best to be standoffish, so as not to invite too much closeness.
“You have an early class?” Devin asked.
“Oh, no.” Tina assured him. “No English is first. I decided to start getting here earlier to get a better parking spot.”
Devin laughed.
“Yeah, I’m hip to that emotion.”
As they sat chatting, Tina’s mind drifted. They talked about their impressions of the English teacher, their other professors. Tina remembered Monday. She remembered Shanice and how jealous she had become and the mere thought of another woman in Devin’s life. She thought about how quickly she felt comfortable with Devin. As she looked at him, she suddenly realized he didn’t have any books with him. No book bag, pens, pencils or anything remotely “college.”
“Where are your books?”
“Oh, I haven’t bought them yet,” he sighed, looking away. “Honestly, I like to wait for a while. At least until after the first class. See if the teacher is going to use the bloody thing. College books are expensive and there are several teachers around here that just don’t use the book. I think Mrs. Bonner’s going to use it though. Of course, she seems to be the exception to quite a number of rules.”
“Yeah,” Tina agreed, not really sure what to add.
“And she’s not the only one,” Devin said, winking at Tina, crooking his smile.
“Going for the Wyatt Earp?” Tina asked, pointing to Devin’s gray duster.
Devin looked at himself, smirked. “I’m just hoping that somebody will soon realize the fashion sense in these little buggers and they’ll make a comeback!”
“Yeah,” Tina said, still amazed by her own sense of humor, “This year’s fashion look – Nerdy Bank Robber!”
“Hottest thing this summer!” Devin laughed.
The time came to go to class. Tina got up and Devin filed in behind her. Tina felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned swiftly, jumping out of her very skin.
“Whoa there!” Devin said, shrinking back a step.
“Sorry,” Tina said, lowering her gaze, “you frightened me.”
“Me?” Devin said, feigning a shocked look. “Little, itty bitty, good for nothing me frightened you?”
“Yep.” Tina said, a little too sharp.
“You must scare easily then.”
“Perhaps I do,” she whispered, still unable to meet his gaze.
Devin lifted her chin, looked at her with an expression that was nothing if not sugary sweet.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“I told you. You just scared me.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But what?” Tina said, wresting her chin free of Devin’s fingers.
“Are you mad? You seem upset. Honestly, I’m sorry, I scared you.”
They were standing outside the door to their English class now. Tina turned toward the room, which was already filling with students.
“I’m fine,” Tina shrugged. “Let’s just go to class.”
“Hey,” Devin said, gently ushering Tina to the side. “What’s the matter? And don’t give me that frightened you nonsense. What’s really bothering you?”
“I can’t tell you,” Tina said, turning away.
“What is it you can’t tell me?” Devin asked, offering a smile that was a perfect mix of sexy and pleading.
“If I told you what it was, that would imply I could tell you, but we have already established I cannot tell you.”
Seriously? Did you honestly just have a moment of levity?
“Tell ya what,” Devin offered, “How about if you tell me what’s bothering you and I promise not to tell you that you told me? Sound good?”
Tina let go a half-hearted, almost playful grumble.
“You!” she said, nudging him, hiding a grin.
She felt an almost tangible bond with Devin. It had been instantaneous, though the realization had taken a while to manifest. It was unmistakable. As if their souls had somehow splintered from the very same anomalous entity. She was so powerfully drawn to him and yet she knew nothing of the man, Devin. Nothing of his background. Nothing of his origins. She knew nothing and yet she felt as if, somewhere deep inside, she knew it all. As she thought about their short time in one another’s lives, she realized she felt as if she was waiting for him to tell her things that she already knew.
Tina sighed openly.
“Okay,” Devin said running a shaking hand through his movie star locks, “Now I know something’s wrong. Tina, did I do or… I don’t know. Did I say something that bothered you? This is kinda weirding me out a little bit.”
“No, it’s not you, it’s—”
Devin put a hand up. Cursed.
“Don’t say it. Tina, I don’t want to freak you out more than you obviously are, but please do not tell me it’s not me, it’s you. Seriously, I don’t want clichés. I don’t know what you think I’m looking for, but I’m really just looking to get to know a very attractive and interesting young woman. I don’t have any master plan, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whatever happens happens but, today, I’m just Devin. You’re just Tina. And we are two folks who just met. I think you’re cool and would like to get to know you. That’s the beginning and the end of it, alright?”
For a moment, Tina was almost offended by Devin’s admission. Disappointed perhaps. Not entirely at his response, but that she was apparently so easily readable. Especially by someone who, as he just admitted, she had just met.
“I guess we should go to class,” Devin finally said. The life had gone out of his voice completely.
“No, wait,” Tina said, taking him by the arm. “I—Devin, I don’t know anything about you. And yet—”
“And yet, what?” Devin asked, starting to ease back into the smile that Tina had grown so fond of recently.
“I like you, Devin,” she blurted. Butterflies built in her stomach. She felt as if she would vomit soon, unless this conversation took a drastic shift.
“I like you too, Tina.”
“I’m not finished,” Tina interrupted. “I like you, but I’ not sure yet what that means. I can’t figure you out. I can’t figure me out. That’s what I meant when I said, or started to say, it’s not you, it’s me. I mean I can’t figure out how an antisocial girl like me could instantly feel so bonded to a guy I know nothing about. For all I know, you could be a killer, a pimp or—”
“Or?” Devin asked. “Killer, pimp and there’s an ‘or’?” He laughed.
“Well for all I know you could be a cross-dressing schizophrenic lesbian internet geek named LaWanda.”
“Tina,” Devin said, stifling a laugh, “I can promise you that my name is Devin. It has always been Devin and, if I have anything to say about it, it will always be Devin.”
“Devin?” Tina whispered.
“Tina?”
“What’s your last name?”
Devin smiled again. A kind smile.
“Snow,” he whispered. “Devin Snow.”
Smiling, Tina stuck out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Devin Snow. The name’s Miles. Tina Miles.”
Walking to class, Devin put his arm around Tina.
“This okay?”
“No,” she said, taking his hand from her shoulder, dropping it to the side and gripping it tightly in her own hand. “But this is nice.”
Tina was frightened to the core. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk an actual emotional bond yet, one she would acknowledge openly, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t that strong.
In all her eighteen years, she’d made it a habit of ignoring the voice of her heart, no matter how loudly it might have screamed. For once, she thought, there was nothing she could do but listen. Butterflies filled her stomach and chest. Her heart raced and her face flushed with blood. She smiled again. And it was real.
* * *
Their assignment was to write
a poem that interested them. It was that simple Write a poem about anything. About themselves, about their best friend, their dog, cat or favorite TV show. Even their favorite poet. The point was for each person to take a look inside himself or herself. Tina found this assignment tragically difficult. She’d blocked out so much of her past. Her parents were little more than shadows now. She couldn’t even see faces and she had no pictures of them. She couldn’t remember having a pet. She watched movies occasionally, but she didn’t quite feel comfortable writing about the vampire poster that still hung on her wall, despite promising herself she’d take it down. She scanned the room and found a few others similarly locked in their own insecurities. One young pimple-faced kid sat staring blankly out the window. He might have been pondering his monk-like bowl cut or his latest failed attempt at zit removal. Whatever was running through his mind, he sat similarly still as Tina.
A couple rows closer, sat a young girl with incredibly long black hair. Slightly chubby, the young girl was nevertheless, strikingly attractive. Strange, in the days of physical perfection and vanity, that chubbiness might be construed as adding to one’s beauty, but thus seemed to be the case with the raven-haired teen. She wore her hair perfectly straight. Though she wore makeup, it wasn’t to excess. Her smile suggested that, unlike Tina, she was not stuck for a favorite thing about which to write. Rather, Tina guessed, she was probably stuck trying to figure out which of her many favorite things was likely to be her subject.
I have nothing to say.
The very thought petrified her.
* * *
Flannigan Project: Entry 12
Personal Diary of Dr. Bryan Flannigan.
Six weeks into the project. Head filled with dreams.
Time ceases to have meaning. Where am I? When am I? Mind failing.
Becoming.
Terror exists.
Death Must Come.
* * *
“Look at this!” Dr. Forrest said, excited. “Entry 19 says ‘Personal Diary of Bryan Flannigan’. Entry 20 says—”
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