by R. J. Henry
“Are you out?”
“No, I’m just saying that our limited supplies won’t allow us to recreate more once it’s gone. We have enough to last the four of us, for maybe a year.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, eyeing her closely. “Just go to the hospital like a normal person.”
“Why can’t we just drop her off at a hospital instead?” Rachel scoffed.
“Because,” he hollered. He lowered his voice. “Do as I say. Is that simple enough for you to understand?”
She nodded. “Yes, Agent Myers.”
“Lose the attitude.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes boss, anything else, boss?”
He cocked his gun behind her head. “I should shoot you right now.”
“Oh, now isn’t that kinky?” Rachel remained un-flinched. “You threaten to do it, at least every time you are here. If you were going to do it, you would have done it the first time,” she said, typing her handwritten notes onto the computer.
He placed the gun back into his holster. “Office, now!”
“Okay,” she said, pushing away from the desk. She changed her tone to a schoolgirls’ voice, “I’ve been a bad girl, and I wonder what the principle would do to me. Oh, I hope he spanks me instead of giving me detention.”
She laughed, and then he pushed her through the door. She leaned back against the wall. He locked the door, shrugged his coat free from his shoulders, and placed his holster with his coat on the rack next to the door. His face, red with rage, began to cool.
"Take a joke old man,” she said, in her normal tone. She fiddled with her necklace, pulling from between her breasts. Her shirt rode low, bearing her sun-kissed shoulders. Her hair, long and curly, layered behind her in a half-braid.
Red , my favorite color, he noticed. Despite how annoying she was to him; he couldn’t deny his baser urges as a man. What he desires most from an attractive female, is her spunk. The feistier, the better, he thought. He inched close to her ruby lips. “I hate how you talk back to me in front of them guys.”
She grinned. “In a field where I am only surrounded by men, I have to seem tough enough to not be fucked with.”
He inhaled her perfume from her neck. “What about just fucked?”
“By them? Hell no,” she giggled. “I mean, yeah, they are cute, but scrawny guy number one and muscles guy number two are not what I like.” She looked Myers up and down. “I like my men just right.”
“Is that right?” he said, brushing his nose against her cheek.
Her heart pounded as her hands shook. “Y-yeah.” Slowly, she could feel her inhibitions lower around him. She felt… Hot. “Yes sir.”
“Hmmm.” He groaned as his lips met the base of her neck.
She intertwined her fingers through his short hair, bringing his face up to hers. She felt the soft, warm, press of his lips against hers. He jabbed his tongue in her mouth, shoving his hand down her pants. She moaned, forcing herself to hold back. It’s been so long, she thought, since I felt this.
His hand, wet with warmth, pulled away and unbuttoned her jeans. They dropped to the floor without a struggle, as she undid his.
With one hand, he held her wrists above her head, making her breath louder as he caressed a breast inside his mouth. He flicked his tongue lightly against her nipple. She shivered, and then said, “Oh my god!”
His lips curled at her enthusiasm. Grabbing her thigh, he lifted her leg around his waist. It was soft in his grasp, making something else harder. She threw her other leg up, wrapping her ankles together. “Come on, let’s get this going,” she panted, rubbing against his stiff manhood. Mmm, either she thought, someone forgot about a spare gun, or he really wants this.
For years, she always found him sexy. But, not once, did she ever think he felt the same about her.
He squeezed her thigh harder, dropping her arms to grab the other thigh as he entered depths of her that made him shake. Her stomach, tight with tension, relaxed the deeper he pressed against it.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, slowly dropping her to the ground. He ripped off her shirt, exposing a silken brassier. It was pink, with white lace, and unsnapped in the front. He didn’t hesitate freeing them from their soft imprisonment. She raised her legs, propping them upon his broadened shoulders, and continued to rip the buttons off his shirt. She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, and said, “Deeper!” into his ear.
He grunted, filling her need to be pleased. The one thing he is known for is that he never leaves a woman unsatisfied. No matter how long it could take.
He kissed her harder, yanking her hair of its braid. She winced, guiding his hand to do it once more. The pain transcended throughout her, making the sensation of him inside her feel unimaginably amazing.
She wrapped her hands around his head, forcing him back on her breasts. It made him faster in movements, deeper, and made her unable to hold back her loud moans that escaped through her lips. They increased in volume as he swung his hips harder in between hers. He cuffed her mouth, as he slid his lips onto hers, filling her mouth with the soft warmth of his swirling tongue. She could only imagine what type of damage it could do if used lower. Then, he did go lower.
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.
Muffled moans could be heard outside the office. David grinned uncontrollably at George. “Sounds like he is giving her a good pounding.”
George threw his clipboard at him. “Shut up!”
David still couldn’t help but laugh. He patted his knee. “I wonder what her walk of shame looks like. Heh-he.” His laugh was highpitched, and it made George’s ears hurt. He placed ear buds in, and blared music through them.
David shook his head, grinning like a fool, as he tapped away on his keyboard. “You know,” he said, “there is sure-fire team I am thinking on betting on. Maybe a dime.”
George stared heavily at him. “Make that bet, I’ll save you the trouble and just steal your money.”
Chapter 6
The sun, warmer than yesterday, beamed down. Guns blazed in the distant air as rows of
militant guards tested the latest weapon machinery produced by Brinks; the M6 machine
gun, and the .308 sniper rifle were remodeled to
shoot not only bullets made of steel, but also
bullets filled with the CBH virus. Designed to
penetrate and release its effects upon the victim. “Are these necessary?” Carlson tightened his hands into a close-knit grip behind his
back as he eyed his partner with caution.
Her porcelain complexion and baby blue eyes
failed to fool him as, he supposes, they have
done with her past male colleagues. “Agent
Brinks?”
“Shhh,” she hushed. “I heard you.” He cleared his throat. “Well?”
Her eyes darted back towards him. “For
my plan, it is quite necessary.”
“What exactly was your plan again?” he
half-joked, concerned about the realism of this
said plan.
“To build a newer world; a better world.
A nation that will never fall.”
Brinks smiled with a menace that sent chills
down his back. “Oh,” he gasped.
She twirled an empty bullet casing between her fingers. “Besides, I have a man working on the other part to my plan. He will give me
what I need to fill this. Doctor Johnston. You
may have heard about him.”
“What is that?” he said, pointing at the
flexible casing.
“A bullet designed to disintegrate once
in contact with blood. It will then allow the contents inside to seep through its victim’s bloodstream.”
“Right. The man who won a Nobel Prize
and gained tenner ship at the University, wasn’t
he wrongfully accused of his wife’s death, but
is still working on it? Who is to say he didn’t
trash the idea?”
She giggled. “Because, I told him if he
doesn’t make it, and then test it, Calista will
know the real reason for her Mother’s death.” “His Daughter?”
“Yes,” she affirmed.
“Okay, then.”
“We have to leave. We’re going on a
short trip.”
“Where?” his curiosity peaked, as her
demeanor changed from a proud stance to a
concerning slouch.
She quickly stood with her back stiffened and shoulders squared, clearing her
throat. “Like you were insinuating, we need to
make a visit.”
“Are we going to do actual detective
work for once?”
“Only if it pertains to this project.” She
clicked the door handle, and swung open the car
door with force. “Now come on.”
He hoped in the seat next to hers. In
one swift motion, she shut the door, started the
engine, and drove out of the lot. Carlson barely
had enough time to shut his own door. He
spoke, deepening his voice, “Why only this project? I’m sure the director, our boss, would love
for us to the job we were hired to do.”
“What is that, exactly?” she said, darting her eyes towards him in one quick glance. He cleared his throat. “Protecting the
people within our district. Not here, in Middletown.”
She smiled a tight-lipped grin. “The director doesn’t mind. We are protecting people.
Technically.”
He sucked his lips in, making a clicking
noise as he released them. “How so? By giving
them a type of immunity?”
“Yes,” she said, swiftly.
Her honeyed tone rang with ease in his ears. He
felt she honestly believed that she was doing
good, Samaritan-like work. But, he doubted her
motives, if any at all. What does she gain from
all of this? He fought to ask, but the question
remained thick in his mind.
“What about Director Jones? What does he
have to say about this severe involvement in this
project?”
“He was the one that suggested it to go through.
He loved the idea.”
•••
Back at the lab, Marcel fiddled swiftly throughout his notes. Attempting to determine if there
was indeed a way to reverse the effects of the
CBH experiment.
With Calista hollering in the background, his focus would never fail to derail from
the problem at hand. “Shhh, I know. I will find
a way to get the pain to stop.”
He hoped Emily isn’t having to deal
with this same issue. There was no doubt in his
mind that she would soon have to get a cage for
him as well.
Down the hall, Nick sat in Emily’s silver
lab chair. He tapped his foot against the tile
causing a repetitive clicking noise that appeared
to make Emily become irate. He noticed her
scrunched nose and scowl, stopping his notion
of short patience.
“So, uh, about Lucy. Do you think she
will, well, you know?”
“What? Be okay?” Emily shook her
head to his nodding. “You say nothing to me, on
our way up here, but you are able to ask about
your girlfriend?” a twinge flickered in her heart
at the thought of them together.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
She tossed her hair back into a low bun,
twisting the curls into a neat mess. “Honestly, I
don’t think so.”
“She could be like me. Whatever I am.
Isn’t that how most diseases happen? You
spread them around.”
Emily scoffed at his lack of belief in her
intellectuality. “Yes, but I am not entirely sure
what you are suffering from. Besides, you decapitated her. I have never seen someone survive that.”
He scanned the room, examining the
plaques and awards that were scrawled across
the wall behind her desk. “This is your lab slash
office? Couldn’t have them separate?”
“Yeah, I know. I want them separate,
but the University’s funding is tight at the moment.”
“Ah.”
She grabbed a needle from her desk,
and inched her way towards him. “I’m going to
draw some blood for Doctor Johnston.” He chuckled.
Emily snapped her gaze up to his.
“What?”
He rubbed his mouth, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he said, concealing his smile.
She placed the sharp tip against his
cooled skin, and then pressed down. A crack
echoed through the air, signaling the breakage
of the steel. “Shit.”
Her eyes drew up to his, as she sensed
his gaze down upon her. “You knew?”
He paused, before answering, to catch
his breath. “Yeah.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed through her
lips. She couldn’t help but assume the worst.
She raised an eyebrow, taunting him with assumptions.
“What?” he asked. “It’s not… I didn’t
find out doing that. Okay? If that is what you are
thinking.”
Her bangs waved against her warmed
cheeks. “Fine. But, no.”
“Then what?” he inquired.
“Nothing.” she satirized, plucking a hair
from his scalp.
The force of her strength surprised him.
Yet, he did not flinch. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” she grinned, turning to
the microscope on the desk behind her.
Nick sighed, pulling his gaze away from
her back. His eyes drew to a picture on her desk that disturbed him more than it should; Emily and Hank’s wedding photo. Hank wore his exMarine uniform in the frame next to it. The sight made him want to hurl across the room, as if he were part of an exorcism. “How is married
life?”
Her eyes fell heavy down to the diamond band on her finger. Twisting it around her
finger, she sighed. “Fine. But, why do you say it
like that?”
“Don’t know.” he shrugged. “Just do.” “Right.” Emily continued gazing into
the small black piece of the microscope. The
hair follicle shown spiked, star-shaped cells.
“You know. You are a bit tamer than Calista.” “Calista Johnston?” he knowingly inquired.
“You know her?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Isn’t she a chubby
gal?”
She pierced him with a sinister stare.
“Not anymore. Not for almost two years, now.” “Oh.”
“And how do you know her?”
“We dated right before I left for college.”
She rolled her eyes as her heart fluttered at the thought of him seeing her now. Calista developed quite the figure in the last couple
of years that always made Emily envious of her
physique. “Oh.”
Changing the subject, he pointed to
wards her abdomen. “Are you?”
She laughed. “No. Oh God, no. But,
don’t tell Doctor Johnston. He thinks I am.” “Why not be honest with the old man?” “He’s been through a lot. I don’t
want
him to feel like an idiot or like he is insulting me.
That would be awkward.”
“Wouldn’t not having a baby make it
even more awkward?”
“Uh, well, I’m hoping to be gone before
then.”
“Seriously, another job change?” “Well, Hank—”
He cut her off. “Should have known.
You leave just about anything for him, don’t
you?”
She faced her reflection in the blank
monitor and bit her bottom lip, fighting back
the urge to till him the truth. Instead, she came
up with something better sounding. “I’m thinking about moving back to my home town. Hank
transferred to Amherst PD.”
Nick despised that idea more than she
did. However, he cannot force someone to do
anything. No matter if he still loved that particular person. “Oh. So, what are those?” he
pointed towards the two small shrubs under a
sun lamp. Three red bulbs protruded through
the unusual blue leaves. Their unique appearance peaked his curiosity.
She turned to follow his gaze, and then
shrugged. “Unsure. Marcel—I mean Doctor
Johnston, had me grow these weird star-shaped
seeds to see what type of climate they thrive in.” “And…” he pushed.
“You, of all people, care about this?” “Sure. A person can change.”
“Okay… Well, so far they have been
proven to thrive in almost every climate.” “Almost?”
“I am testing dry summer heat at the
moment. And they are doing very well.” “What are they called?”
“Red Fates.”
He studied their appearance closer.
“Have you tried one yet?”
She twirled the golf ball sized fruit between her fingers. “No. Doc told me specifically
to not eat one. That they are part of his experiment.” Emily unhooked the lamp and carried it
to Nick.
He became puzzled as she clasped the
silver lamp tight with a smile. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory I had.”
The direct light surprised him, robbing
him of his sight. His eyes were quick to adjust,
but his temper rose. “Stop!”
“How are you feeling?”
“Hungry, and angry.”