The Fledge Effect

by R. J. Henry

  “Oh, so you do have interests!” She grinned with a menace. She smirked, “Nosey bastard.”

  “Answer me!” he demanded.

  She stomped towards him, and with a huff, she threw the papers back into her drawer. She locked it, placing her keys back into her pocket. “It is none of your concern.” Her voice was cold, almost slicing.

  “What is the CBH virus? It said it was only experimental. For what, though?” He could feel his fists begin to shake. The overwhelming urge to punch something, set him off further. “Are you planning on wiping out an entire nation?”

  She threw her head back, cackling. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! No. It is more like, I’m trying to help people.”

  “Help people with a virus?” he said, keeping his tone level, and lowered. He didn’t know if anyone else knew. He felt his job was already on the line learning this new information. However, he found it to be a nonsense of lies.

  “How else would you describe it? This is meant to be incurable. It invades a body, thus allowing them to be cured of their, annoyingly, basic human needs.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t be a part of this. I just can’t. This is immoral, and not to mention, illegal!”

  She sidestepped in front of him, blocking the only exit. “What is so illegal about curing and preventing terminal illnesses?”

  “Let me leave, Jane!”

  “It’s Agent Brinks. And if you walk out that door, I have twenty more agents standing by, ready to shoot anyone who is aware of this information.”

  He gulped, angered.

  “Well?” she pressed. “It’s your choice. Leave here, you die. Stay, and, just maybe, I’ll let you live.”

  All he could think about was his daughter. Her fragile state held strong, but not steady enough to wait any more time than he already has. Katie needs me. He nodded. “Fine.”

  “Good,” she said, and then cleared her throat.

  She took her place back into her chair, flipping through more papers. She sat with such prose, as if she were all mighty. In her mind, that is how she viewed herself. Compared to Carlson, anyhow.

  She raised her eyes towards him, blinking. “Sit. These papers aren’t going to finish on their own.”

  He obeyed, realizing what she meant when she had said, ‘Don’t get too involved in this job.’

  “You’re a crazy bitch,” he said in a lowered tone.

  “And you’re a dumb nobody,” she said without looking up.

  •••

  Christine had woken up early that same morning. She was tending to Katie all morning. Katie kept coughing up, and sputtering blood all over her sheets. Christine would rock her, calming her. She would sing to Katie, a lullaby. But Katie began getting restless with boredom.

  “Mom, when can I go back to school? I miss my friends.” Her big brown eyes glistened in the morning sun.

  Christine quietly said, “Soon, sweetie. I hope, very soon.” She knew the likelihood of it not happening. But, discouraging her daughter, she felt, would only worsen her health. She needs to have hope. That is the only way she will survive, she thought.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you brush my hair?”

  Christine nodded. “Sure.”

  She reached for Katie’s hairbrush as Katie sat up in her bed. She began stroking her long and brown hair with the soft bristles. As she sang a tune, Katie joined in.

  Her hair began falling out in clumps between her fingers. Her eyes got wide, and her hands shook. She dropped the brush on the bed. In a desperate attempt to fix the new bald spot, she patted down Katie’s hair. But as she attempted to use Katie’s remaining hair, it fell out as well.

  Katie, confused turned her head to her mother’s speechless expression. “Why did you stop?”

  She peered down at her mother’s trembling hands. She shrieked in terror at the sight. “My hair! Mom?”

  Christine struggled to find the right words. She knew it wasn’t her fault. There wasn’t anything she could do to fix it. “I-I’m so…ry.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. Through the watery gaze, she watched as Katie carefully ran her fingers through her hair. It continued to fall out of place, making Katie sob uncontrollably. “M-mommy. H-help me. M-make it stop!”

  Christine backed away. Shock ran through her, making her numb to the core with depression. She didn’t know what else to do. Or if anything, she does could help. However, leaving her daughter alone made her only feel worse. She was scared. Ashamed at herself for not being a better mother.

  She crouched in the kitchen, leaning her back against the stove. She buried her face in her knees, muffling her pleas. “God! Please, no! She is my baby girl, my only baby. Please! Help her! Take my life, not hers.”

  She felt helpless in her prayers. Shivering from an overreaction of nerves, she listened to the winds from outside. The leaves are dying, and within their place grows a new life, she thought. Strangely, this gave her hope that someday, Katie will not change, but a new life will be given to her. One that cannot be taken away, or end like this. At least let her have a new life, she wished.

  Chapter 5

  An alarm went off, just after dawn. Nick’s eyes gloomed over as they darted towards the black clock beside his bed. He realized the time, wondering how it could be so late in the morning. Confusion pounded within his head, as he attempted to count the number of drinks he had the night before. He rubbed his tiresome eyes, fighting the urge to plop back down into his bed.

  Flashes of the night before played inside his head like a movie. His eyes shot open, feeling his heart race against his chest. He groped his neck, checking his fingers for any signs of crimson streaks. His skin, soft to the touch, calmed his rapid breathing.

  A strange, yet familiar, perfume caught his nose. “Jasmine,” he whispered.

  Seconds later a light tap sounded on his door. He paused from lifting out of bed, and listened as the tap echoed inside his ears once more. He wrapped his blanket around his waist, rubbing his temples. Stop knocking!

  A woman’s voice muffled through the apartment door. “Nick, are you up? I think we need to talk about last night.”

  “Ah, fuck. Lucy,” he mumbled to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk to her about their brawl they had after work. He tried everything to forget it.

  Lucy helped herself in. “Hey, did you know your door was unlocked?”

  Before he could answer, she intruded into his bedroom. He said, “You could have waited for me to let you in.”

  “Sorry,” she said while shrugging her shoulders.

  “What do you want?”

  She sighed, pacing his room. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She bent over to his floor retrieving a pink cap. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re using again, aren’t you?”

  He wiped his face with his palm. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “There is a cap to a needle in your room.”

  “WH-what? No. I’m not using. Haven’t for six months!”

  “Then explain this.” The cap was pinched tight between her index finger and thumb.

  “I-I,” his mind trailed off remembering a needle being stabbed down towards his attacker. I thought it was just a dream. “Look, I can explain that!”

  “Save it, Nick. I am glad I dumped your sorry ass. Now I see why your own wife left you.” She twirled around, leaving his room.

  Nick flew out of bed, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t use drugs until she left me. Now, will you please just let me freaking explain it?”

  “No.” Her voice, cold as winter, tipped something fierce inside him.

  The fiery rage consumed his every muscle, pulsated with blasts of what he called burning embers. He tightened his grip on her shoulder.

  She winced. “Ouch! Let me go.”

  He growled, ignoring her request.

  “Your eyes! What’s wrong with them?”

  He growled once more and bellowed. “
Quit judging me!”

  Within an urging split second, his teeth sunk deep into her neck. He held a fistful of hair, bending her head back. She shoved him away, wailing in pain, as she lost a chunk of her hair, and headed for the door. He sidestepped in front of her, blocking her path. He pulled her by the arm, flinging her across the living room. Lucy’s head bounced off the corner of the small table, making a cracking noise at the impact.

  Blood pooled from her ears as her unconscious body lied limp across the now blood- stained white carpet. Without hesitation he knelt by her side. Angered by her, he continued to devour her throat until nothing was left but a few flaps of skin barely covering any bone.

  A cooling sensation shot through his veins, making his sight become less blurred. His hands shook after he gazed down at Lucy’s lifeless body. Her head spun across the room. “Oh God! What did I do?”

  He quivered, running into the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, clasping the sides of his head.

  “What the hell?” he yelled at himself.

  Nick dropped on the floor, hitting his head against the wooden frame. His eyes glazed up towards the reflective glass. Mirror. My eyes. He grunted, wanting to know what she meant. In a frenzy, he jumped up and grabbed his plunger. Using the wooden tip, he stabbed the mirror with his eyes closed tight. I don’t want to see it! I am no longer the monster everyone hates.

  The glass shattered in many pieces. The shards clinked against the gut of his porcelain sink. With each thrust, he grunted. His strength, causing him to knock the surrounding frame, made the handle stab through the wall like butter. Pieces of drywall broke free, leaving a dusty trail around the knobs of his faucet.

  The sight created an invisible itch beneath his skin. An itch, he fights every day. Yet, he discovered something more fulfilling than any drug had ever made him feel; blood. Desperate for more, he clung to a glass shard as he once clung to a needle. He brought the jagged edge to his exposed forearm, pressing down in haste. His skin flexed, shattering it in even smaller chunks of mirror.

  After he slammed his fists down against the edge of the sink, he fixed his eyes amongst the reflective pieces of glass. They were ice blue, tinted like gunmetal, with a gold ring illuminating around the pupil. He rubbed his face, taking slow and paced deep breaths. Looking again, they returned to their mossy green appearance, and he said, “Whoa!”

  In his attempt to contemplate what was happening to him, the sound squeak of footsteps neared his bathroom door. “What do you want?” Nick snapped, listening for any response. He looked down at his naked skin.

  “Nick? You’re alive?” Emily’s voice broke when she continued, “H-How? Come oout… Now!”

  “Get out of here. You, especially, need to go somewhere safer than here!” he said, placing a black, silk, robe around his exposed skin.

  Marcel tapped her shoulder and said, “Let me talk to him.”

  “Emily? Did you bring someone with you?”

  “Uh, yes, it’s Doctor Johnston. He came with me… We may be able to help, but only if you are willing.”

  Nick scoffed. “Help? Did you not see what I did? What I have done?”

  Marcel pointed around the room. “Not a pleasant choice for decorations, eh?” but, his chuckle was cut short as he realized no one joined in with the flat humor Emily knew him to have.

  Breaking the silence, Emily reminded him about when she once found this to be a normal day for her. But he remained trapped inside the bathroom on his own accord. “Nick, you forget I was a homicide detective. It is nothing I have not seen before.”

  He nodded, remembering the restless nights he had waiting for her to come home every night. Until one night, she didn’t show. Worrying him sick with thoughts of her being killed in the dead of the night only to wake up to a voicemail of her saying she was leaving him for her collaborate, Hank. That was six years ago… six, long and excruciating years ago.

  He opened the door with hesitation. Emily sighed with relief. “I thought you were dead,” she assumed.

  “Me too.”

  “I’d hug you, but,” her eyes bore into him, “I don’t want to get eaten.”

  “I wouldn’t hug you anyways.”

  His words sliced through the air like a knife in her heart. She bit the inside of her cheek. She knew he was right to say that. But, she also knew exactly how it made her feel. She nodded, forcing a smile against her painstricken face.

  He turned his attention to Marcel. “So, Doctor Johnston. You can help me?”

  Marcel nodded. “It’s a possibility.”

  “We’re wasting time. There is no telling what can happen. Let’s go.” Nick rushed out of the door, pushing them along in front of him.

  •••

  On the outskirts of town, near Crystal Lake, more experiments were being held inside a metal building. Brinks designed it as a lab, on the inside. Without her knowing, Myers stuck around Middletown. He liked to keep a close eye on her, and the experiments being conducted by, rather, three sketchy people. He only knew what was given to him in the open folder that laid across his table.

  Rachel was the brains; she had almost gotten away with murder. David was the negotiator; wanted by three loan sharks, and trades addictions like Collector’s Cards. And, lastly, George. He was the brawny member. With the most military training, he provided an excellent source of security. He also made it easier to abduct people for the experiments.

  Myers favored George over the other two.

  Myers closed his folder on the three. The research completed, on them, was vague, but enough to let him know if they could be trusted. They were professional liars, yet their location and identities could easily be hung over their heads as a sort of blackmail. He decided to make a visit to them.

  He threw down his tab, chugged his last bit of black coffee, and left the diner.

  The smell of the lake breezed in through his car door window. He rolled it up scrunching his nose is disgust. “If I wanted to smell fish, I’d go fishing, using a body as bait.”

  He hated the location Brinks chose for this undercover lab. But, he understood it was best for disposing certain, unwanted, things.

  He opened the door to the metal building. He expected them to be lounging around, knowing not everyone works as he does. Obsessively. They were standing, working on something other than what they were signed on for.

  “What the hell are you three, nitwits, doing?” His voice barreled throughout the building without warning.

  They jumped, dropping different masks. David approached him. “Well, we, uh, think our identities would be better protected if we had a guise of some sort. We all agreed on black outfits.”

  Myers grunted. “Get the hell back to work! Or your heads will be mine.” The little vein, on the side of his neck, throbbed when he spoke.

  “Come on guys,” George agreed.

  They scattered like rats, returning to their stations. Myers walked behind each of them. He never bothered with trying to understand any of their equipment. However, the monitors were off, and they were forced to document everything by hand. “I want those papers emailed to me,” he said to Rachel.

  She scoffed at his command. “That would be fine, but,” she paused as he leered at her. She continued, glaring back at him, “the power is out.”

  He raised his chin to the ceiling. Strands of wires, coming from a window, led to the two-drop lights slightly illuminating the place. He cleared his throat in a short whip of a cough. “Fix it, then.”

  She giggled sarcastically. “Gee, why didn’t I think about that before? Duh!”

  “Get to the point,” he said. A heavy gruff sounded in his voice as his short fuse ran even shorter.

  “Well, it costs a little of this,” she rubbed two fingers together, “in order to pay bills around here.”

  He squared his shoulders, straightening his tie. They are so fucking needy, he thought. “Fine. I’ll pay the bills, and you guys stay here. No one leaves.”

  Before he wal
ked out the door, David stopped him. “Can you bring us some food then? We are starving here. And after we have been feeding the fish here… No thank you.”

  He paused, keeping his back to them. He grunted under his breath, heaving out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t respond to David’s needs, however. He left, contemplating whether they deserve to be fed.

  Playing dress-up for an entire workday does not constitute the right for anything good to eat. So, Chinese it is, he thought. He pushed the door open, locking it behind him as he left.

  The click rang in George’s ears. It made him wince. The sound reminded him of a loaded gun cocking back.

  “George,” Rachel leaned towards him, “why doesn’t he ever get snippy with you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know. Maybe because I follow orders, better than you two.”

  “So, what? You are better than us?”

  “No, that is not what I am saying,” he breathed out through his nose. “I’m just saying, follow orders and he will leave you alone.”

  “Teacher’s pet,” David said.

  George barely heard what he had said. “What did you say?”

  “Uh, um. I want to make a bet,” he nodded, scratching his ear.

  George shook his head. “What’s new?” he asked rhetorically.

  A little over thirty minutes had passed, and their monitors clicked, turning on.

  An email, on all three, popped up. It was from Agent Myers. It read the details on who should be their next victim. However, he specifically said to not kill her, only harvest her reproductive system. And to use a healing compound, named C3KO. Not found, but created. In his email, it described that the compound only works in frigid water, and for any broken bones, they had to be encased in ice.

  After they printed his email, he came in.

  “Good, you got it,” he said as he threw down their food on a random table.

  “Who is she to you?” David felt she looked familiar. “She live here?”

  “No one,” he shrugged, “just a random person that was next on the list.”

  “Yeah, that’s not problem though, bud. She is the only one you told us to not kill.”

  Rachel agreed. “Yeah, and not to mention, the only one you told us to use a healing compound on. It is rare. We don’t know how to make more.”