The Fledge Effect

by R. J. Henry

  Emily side-hugged Calista. “We will stay as well. We need to stick together.”

  “Do you think anyone believes this?” Nick, who stood against the half-equationfilled, whiteboard, spoke softly. His brows knitted together when he was met with stony silence.

  •••

  Trees circled around Brinks and Carlson, as the gravel crunched beneath their feet. They made their way towards a black sedan. The moonlight beamed off the window, slowly disappearing as the driver side window cracked open. Behind the tinted window was a man. He was careful to hide his identity.

  Brinks stood exactly three feet away, as instructed by him once before. “Boss,” she said.

  “Agent Brinks. Good to see you,” he said. His voice, deep as honey, and smooth as silk, would make any woman swoon. But Brinks was not one of those women. “Who is that man with you?”

  “Our new accomplice, Agent Jack Carlson.”

  “Good. I just wanted to check up on our garden of Red Fates.”

  “They are exactly what we hoped they would be.”

  “How is Doctor Johnston?”

  “I believe he succeeded in Project Fledge. But, he announced earlier of creating a vaccine as well.”

  “Yes, I have heard.”

  “Do I need to dispose of him?”

  “No. Steal the vaccines. I’ll deal with the rest.” The engine revved, and his tires kicked up rocks as he sped off.

  Confused, Carlson wanted to know whom exactly he anticipated on answering to. “Who was that?”

  “You deaf? I called him Boss, now didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No ‘’,” she said, cutting him off. “He is called ‘Boss’. Besides, asking questions is the last thing you want to start doing.”

  Chapter 12

  Brinks met Carlson. In the parking lot of the Amherst PD Office, she stood beside his car, then tapped his trunk lid. “Open it,” she commanded.

  He turned his head, sighing at his fear to countermand her. Behind him, four men in military outfits trotted his way. Each man toted two black duffle bags.

  He clicked the button on his key ring, popping the trunk lid open.

  She had the faintest of smiles, excitedly rubbing her two palms together. “You going to ask what’s inside these bags, or why you’re my new pack-ass?”

  He shook his head, returning her smile with a smug expression. He didn’t feel that stupid.

  She knew one question would get him shot. Yet, she raised her brows, testing his level of respect for his own life.

  Confused, he knew a statement would probably be best. He didn’t doubt her craziness would somehow use it against him, but despite her crystal clear rule of zero questions asked, he shrugged towards her.

  “Sure,” he said, matching her usual cool, unbending tone.

  She was taken aback by his ability to work around her rule. She hummed, willing to tell him anyhow.

  The excitement drilled into her deep with force. Many things she could not tell him, but this one thing she could. “What these four, um, heh, very handsome Seals are carrying, contain my latest invention of mass destruction. Well, heh, guns and ammo at least.”

  Seals, he thought, keeping close.

  His blank expression said it all. He knew they were not real Seals. No government, he believed, of his would be involved in a heinous idea she was fully preparing. He never doubted her capabilities, but he highly doubted if her power was well enough to convince an entire militia to follow along.

  She unzipped two bags, pointing at each as she explained. “In this first bag, it contains six guns. Three of each of M6 machine guns, and .308 rifles. In this second bag are a hundred rounds of bullet casings waiting to be filled with the vials containing the CBH virus.”

  His face said, “Oh,” but his eyes were saying, “Hell no.” These many guns made Carlson a bit nervous. He opened his mouth, but stopped to avoid the inevitable questions that circled in his mind, and almost slipped out. Instead, he coughed, choking on his words.

  “What was that?” Brinks didn’t care what his objections were. “Never mind. Just try not to get pulled over.”

  He slammed the trunk shut.

  She patted his left peck as she sidestepped towards her car. “Maybe red wasn’t such a smart color choice for a car,” she joked. She sat back into her seat, pushing her sunglasses up the brim of her nose. “Follow me,” she demanded.

  He nodded, climbing into the driver seat of his car. He wrapped his fingers around the sleek, leather steering wheel. His knuckles turned white from the grip. Staring across to the field of more guns being tested, sent him in a mini-trance before Brinks’ horn snapped him back to reality. He hesitantly pulled out, thinking, what am I doing here?

  The irony of him not being pulled over in a red car, however, did not make him chuckle as it had before when his Wife made the same joke. Maybe, if he wasn’t treated like a dog, and had the same respect as any other federal agent, then she would have allowed him to gain access to a government issued vehicle. But she made it very clear that she was his boss, and that this entire situation was not a government issue. It was all her, only her, and man named Boss.

  He placed his lapel unit back on him, and communicator into his ear. He knew this is what not do with her, but force of habit kept him on key to continue his ways as a good agent. He hoped the idea of hers would blow over, and they could go back to being normal agents. But the determination in her eyes could slice through a stone. Like one person could do it all with a small group of helpers, he thought, almost certain she would fail.

  •••

  Quaint, and now cleared out, Marcel placed his hands on his hips. He scanned the room; nothing was left to take. The morning glow beamed off the floor, reflecting around the room. It seemed to shine without it being cluttered with trash and papers everywhere.

  Emily held a small cardboard box in her arms. Inside were the seeds and plants of the Red Fates. She leaned against the doorframe, sighing. “You ready to go?”

  He knew this day was coming, but didn’t want to come this way. “Ready? No. But, I must.”

  Calista wrapped herself in her hooded jacket, and sunglasses. Concealing her skin became an objective of hers. She stood next to Emily, watching Marcel stand like a stone. Emily heard the sound of echoing footsteps nearing the lab. “Maddie is waiting outside, apparently.”

  He lifted his hands out of his lab coat pockets, patting down the sides of his torso. “Right then,” he said, shrugging the coat off.

  As he reached to shut the door, the phone rang.

  He picked it up. “H-Hello?”

  “Doctor Johnston,” Dean Schmick’s voice sounded on the other end. “Why is there a band of government militia looking for you?”

  “What?” Marcel breathed. He dropped the receiver, as he heard footsteps clicking down the hall.

  He rushed out, as their mixed shadows appeared on the floor. He hid around the corner, barely dodging them.

  The floor reflected six bodies trotting into his lab. The door, leading out to the parking lot, was within a few steps of where he stood. He froze when he heard Brinks speaking. “Dammit, they’re gone. The fucking vaccine is gone. Sure, a few Fledge vials are left behind. But, what good are they if that damn vaccine gets out into the public?”

  He checked his pants pockets, remembering he did forget the CBH virus inside his desk drawer. In his mind, he kicked himself in the ass for that.

  “Find him, now!”

  No longer frozen in place, he aimed for the door. The brisk wind temporarily made off with his breath. Calista and Emily were pacing their steps. He reached around both of them, shoving them towards the car. “We have to leave.”

  His breathless antics surged a sense of worry through them. Calista became frantic at his expense. “What? Why?” Nerves depleted her fullness, making her become agitated with hunger.

  She fished a Red Fate from Emily’s box. But the scowl Emily gave her made her place it
back. She soon realized the scowl was just her staring heavily at the University, and back at Marcel’s waving arms. She tried to take it back, but Emily quickly disappeared around the car.

  Marcel unlocked the car, and unlatched his door. “No time to explain, now get in. But, please, try not to get blood in my backseat.”

  Despite the easiness, in how comfortable he felt around her, the rush he felt fluttered his heart as the red haze of adrenaline made his heart pulsate inside his eardrums. Like a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second, he latched his seatbelt.

  He gripped the steering wheel, but the blood rushed to his face as more suspicious black vehicles headed towards the University. He heaved out a breath through pursed lips. The quickened pace of their tires suggested they were not there to just talk.

  He stifled a laugh as a line of black jeep’s pulled in. “Time to go.” The sight pushed him to drive off, ignoring the speed bumps, and the following stop sign.

  Maybe he not being Johnny Law wasn’t the best idea, but the imminent danger that posed against them made him not care.

  After losing sight of the black vehicles, Emily held onto the bar above her door. “You can slow down now! I’m sure we are fine.”

  Marcel checked the rearview mirror. He sighed in relief, as they were not being followed. “Okay,” he exasperated.

  A sweet scent wafted up Calista’s nose as Marcel switched on the heat. Her nose guided her to Maddie, who was speedily typing on the screen of her phone.

  Maddie felt a pair of leering eyes on her. She looked up from her phone, and inched away from Calista. She didn’t feel comfortable sharing a back seat with someone who is still learning to control her thirst.

  However, Calista knew that is not what she wanted. She clenched her jaw, tapping her fingers against her knee. She leaned towards Emily. “Can I have that fruit, there?” She pointed inside Emily’s box that was on top of her lap.

  She tilted the box, moving her lips as she counted. “There are four left.”

  “Well, I need just one.”

  Emily handed her one, with a sigh. “Save the seed at least. I can grow more that way.”

  “Thank you,” Calista said, snatching the fruit free from Emily’s fingers.

  In her hands, the fruit seemed to have the outside consistency as a water balloon. But once she bit into the side, it hardened around the two puncture marks. As she drained it, the fruit resembled an old and rotten apple.

  She handed to Emily, who was gagging at its putrid appearance and stench.

  The apartment complex, in which Nick resided, rolled up the hill within sight. Emily noticed his car. Its rear end poked out, and wheels the wheels were pointing the wrong direction in a parallel parking spot. She tossed the dead fruit into her box, just realizing she dug her nails into it. She pointed towards the parking space in front of his car. “Marcel, pull into there.”

  Marcel followed her finger, and nodded. “I’m surprised he is here. Back at the lab he acted like he was going to space or something.”

  Emily laughed, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Him? Space? Right.” She remembers, one summer, when they were both fourteen. She tried to get him to come to Space Camp with her. But he despises camps. Something about them freaks him out. She never understood why, and honestly, she wanted to. She hated not being able to go. All because he was afraid of losing her forever.

  She tapped Marcel’s rolled down window. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’re coming in to get you. After all, this could be a trap.”

  “A trap?” Emily looked at the entrance, then back at Marcel. “Why do you think that?”

  “Agent Brinks is one person you definitely do not want to get mixed up with. Here,” he reached into his glove box, and pulled out a handgun, “take this with you.”

  She held the cool steel in her hands, studying its features, before placing it inside the hip band of her jeans. She nodded, and then headed towards the apartment complex’s entrance.

  The soles of her shoes stomped up the three flights of stairs in a quickened pounce. Before turning the corner towards the hall on his floor, she listened. She brought the gun to her chest, remembering what she was taught as an agent, when someone possibly poses a threat. Footsteps neared her.

  She gripped the handle tighter. But then she heard the steps run off in the direction they just came from. Slowly, she entered the hall, holding the .45 down by her side.

  Pressing her back against the cool concrete, allowed her to inch slightly towards Nick’s open door. He never leaves this open. Something is wrong, she thought to herself.

  After a few moments, she sidestepped inside the musky-aired apartment.

  She pulled her sleeve over her hand, covering her nose and mouth at the sight of tiny black busy bodies buzzing around Lucy’s corpse. The smell of rotting flesh pierced through her hand, making it nearly unbearable to be in there. Then, an intoxicating men’s cologne caught her attention.

  The smell came from the direction of the bathroom. She took cautious steps. Noises came from there. She stood by the door for a few more moments, waiting to see if anyone will transpire his or her way out.

  When she realized no one was coming, she lifted her foot and accidently flung Lucy’s disembodied head down the hall. Her wormfilled skull toppled its way into his bedroom.

  A shadow reflected onto the floor in which she still gazed at. Without thinking, she whipped the gun up into the air, shooting once. The bullet landed right into Nick’s upper shoulder, dropping him in place.

  He winced in pain. “Ouch! What the hell, Emily?”

  Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. She shook, placing the gun back on her hip. She met his side, wincing in sympathetic pain. “I… Oh my… I am so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else!” But, she knew it didn’t matter what she had to say.

  He furrowed his brows in bewilderment, rubbing his shoulder. “What? I live here. Who else would I be?”

  “Well,” Emily stammered, “I’m not sure.”

  He turned back into the bathroom, raising his shirt over his head.

  Emily gawked at the amount of muscles he had. With a lean figure like his, she would have never guessed he had muscles that ripple down his abdomen like a series of tiny knolls. Rock hard, she imagined.

  “I… Um, well,” she stuttered, “I just wanted to check on you.”

  He stole a hardened gaze into her deep somber blue eyes. Softening his expression, he yanked out the bullet from his shoulder. “See? No worries here,” he said as the skin around the bullet hole weaved back together like watching the fraying of fabric in reverse.

  “But, I heard someone running away from the stairs.”

  “That was me. I forgot my coat, on the way out,” he said, making his way to his room, lightly brushing his chest against Emily’s ample bosom. He jumped over the head, and picked a random shirt off the floor.

  “Way out to where?” Emily pressed, watching him as he slowly pulled the shirt over his bed head of hair.

  “Out of this god forsaken state. Possibly the country. I don’t know. Just wherever the West takes me,” he said, passing her once more.

  This time he waited by the front door,

  swinging his coat around his broad

  shoulders. “Now, if you’re done gawking at me, I have somewhere to be.”

  Her face flushed with embarrassment, wanting to defend herself against such a lame accusation. “I’m newly divorced. I can gawk at whomever I please.”

  He chuckled at her half-grinned, unsure-about-herself expression as he left out the door. “Goodbye, Emily.”

  She bit her lower lip, not wanting him to leave. But, what choice did she have? Nothing she could do would make him stay. His mind was made up. As it always has been. When he wanted something his way, he made it happen. It made her wonder why she ever left him in the first place. Other than the drug problem, of course.

  That is all in the pas
t, now, though.

  Marcel watched as Nick sped off in his car. Emily came walking out, with her arms folded across her chest. Based on the downward face she expressed, he felt it would not be wise to question what happened.

  She opened the driver’s side door. “Scooch. I want to drive. I know the way to my home of New Haven better than most. If I pulled in, less eyes would probably be on us.” Home, the word alone gave her butterflies.

  Marcel looked back at Maddie, confused. Maddie said, “She means, not a lot of newcomers are really welcome there. The entire town is paranoid.”

  “Is she joking?” he directed towards Emily.

  Emily shook her head. “Nope. No she is not.”

  •••

  All she wanted to do for a few hours was prop her feet up. Back in Amherst, Brinks rattled her keys, unlocking the door to her office. Using the light from the main floor, she hung her purse up on the coat rack. She reached to snap the light on.

  “Don’t!” a man’s voice commanded.

  She instantly recognized it. “Boss? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  “And you weren’t supposed to be done with your job yet,” he countered. “Where is Agent Carlson?”

  “He is at a stake-out, waiting for Doctor Johnston to return home.”

  “So, what you are saying,” his guttural voice made her throat feel dry. He continued, despite her silent plea for him to shut up, “Is that your work is not done?”

  “Yes, sir, Boss.”

  “Damn right, I’m Boss. Now what did I order you to do, for today?”

  She clenched her hands behind her back, pressing on the lower spine. She knew she failed.

  “Do you lack the intestinal fortitude to follow through on orders, or are you just stupid?” he said.

  Tears came to her mind, but she fought them off. She knew this was wrong, but her life debt to him needs to be served. “When will I be done with your orders?”

  He chuckled. “When you save my life… Which, I highly doubt would ever come to be.”

  “This is not the only thing I had to fix. You let Fledges get loose, which I had to round up,” he said, with a more serious tone. “Now, this? I should slap you, right here. But I won’t.”