A rapid series of clicks begin to emanate from my pants pocket, and I realize Ren is trying to figure out what just happened. He must have heard my startled gasp.
"It's ok," I whisper quietly trying to get my voice to travel to my throat mic, but not so far as to venture into the house's now open interior. "Back door was unlocked. Caught me by surprise. I think I'm still clean."
Taking advantage of the opportunity now afforded me, I lean forward and quickly huff the air seeping out through the crack. I was right. Three guys inside. One nearby on the main level and two others further away. Most likely upstairs. Probably explains the bedroom light.
Not wanting to waste any opportunities, I look around for a spot to store one of the outdoor mikes near the smoking chairs. I figure whoever comes out here to smoke most likely has to talk at some point and maybe some decent information will be picked up. But there's nothing out here for me to hide the microphone on. Just a brick wall, a flowerpot full of cigarettes and the chairs. Then I figure why not go with the obvious? The chairs.
Tipping one of the chairs forward, I find a place in the plastic molding that would work perfectly. Wedging the tiny microphone and transmitter into the spot, I pull out some 'concealer' that Ren had whipped up. It's pink glue that once wadded up and smashed over the device will completely cover it and lock it into place. And more importantly, it will look to the casual observer to just be a wad of chewed up bubble gum. I'm hoping no one has a reason to ever look underneath the chair, but if they do, then hopefully the ugly wad of masticated gum will deter them from digging any further.
Flipping the chair back into place, I say, "Mike one in place. Outside on the patio. Are we a go?"
Stepping back over to the cracked door, I wait for the reply before moving any further. Five seconds later I get it in the form of buzzes from my pocket. He's reading the signal, and we're good.
"Going inside now," I tell him and push the door open a bit more so that I can wriggle myself through and into the house. The room that I step into is dimly lit by light coming from a hallway off to my left. My guess is that it's the light I attributed to the kitchen earlier. This room looks to be a family room with several couches, two armchairs and a large television decorating it. It almost looks homey and lived in. I'm not sure how much 'business' is discussed in this room, but it can't hurt to add it to the list.
Looking around the room for the best place to hide our tech, I decide on a light switch near two of the couches. It should be close enough to pick up any conversations in that area, but inconspicuous enough behind the light switch to prevent our discovery.
"Dropping second mike in light switch in main room," I whisper in a light breath. "Give me ninety seconds and then verify."
Stepping over to the wall and pulling out a screwdriver from Ren's pack, I quickly get to work on the screws holding the plate in place. The little electric tool vibrates quietly in my hand as I move from screw to screw. When the last one drops out, I bring out the microphone with my other hand and slip it into the dusty opening in the wall. This particular tech comes with little alligator clips to be snapped onto the wires powering the switch. It adds a few seconds to the installation, but the electricity it leeches should give us an infinite listening shelf life in this location. With the clips clamped in place, I put the plate back on and spin the screws back in.
Checking my memory, I smile. The whole operation took me just over a minute. Pretty good.
"Done," I whisper and again wait for the reply. A few seconds pass and then my pocket lets me know I was successful.
We now have two microphones wired in here, which is more than we thought we'd get. Especially getting one of them inside the house. I'm tempted to stop here and just ease back out of the house and on to my final stop for the night, but I don't feel confident with the locations I got. There's every chance that the outdoor mike will pick nothing up aside from cancer-ridden lung wheezing, and this microphone might get drowned out by the TV or it could be a room that never gets used at all. I don't want to have to come back here, so it's best to get as many set up in one visit as possible.
"Going for one more," I breathe and turn towards the lit hallway. "Hoping for the kitchen."
Ren doesn't give me his confirmation clicks until I'm almost all way to the open doorway, and I'm guessing he was considering our options, too. I'm glad he decided to go with me on this one. It makes me feel a little better.
As I approach the hallway, I start to inhale deeply to cycle the air through my lungs as much as possible and try to pick up any new scents I hadn’t detected before. Closing my eyes, I also try and focus on any sounds that I might be able to pick up.
No new scents catch my attention, and I take that as a good sign. I don't think I have to worry about anyone other than the original three people I picked out earlier, and as long as I can keep a bead on them and where they are in relation to me then it should all be fine. It's just a matter of keeping part of my concentration focused on them while also thinking about where to hide the tech.
My ears tell me that there are voices coming from upstairs, and I can hear the rattle-y breath of a smoker somewhere close by. I'm assuming Rattle Breath is the same guy that had been out back earlier and was the one who didn't lock the back door. I've lucked out that he's the one on this level with me as he's a fairly easy one to track. His sounds are not coming from the same direction as the lit room I want to get to, and that works out for me.
As I creep down the hall and through the glow created by the incandescent bulbs in the wall sconces, I keep my senses tuned to where he might be. After a few steps into the hall, I see another passage that seems to lead off to the garage and laundry room, and that's where Rattle Breath is currently moving about. I'm not sure what he's up to out there, but it's apparently something that involves dropping boxes and breathing loudly.
Perfect! As long as he stays out there, then that leaves me free to drop some bugs in the kitchen area.
Checking again that the voices coming from upstairs seem fully occupied with each other (They aren’t very loud, but at least their noise is consistent.), I sprint the last several steps into the kitchen while fiddling with my pack to pull out two microphones. The first one I pull out is the same as the one from outside, and I stick it underneath a cheap-looking, wooden kitchen chair and seal it with the gummy glue. This time, though, I chose a darker solvent color and instead of it looking like chewed bubble gum it instead looks like a poorly designed part of the chair. Unless someone picks at it, there shouldn't be much worry of discovery. And with Ren's genius foresight, this particular tech uses the kinetic energy of the chair movement to recharge and power itself. It should last us for as long as this room is being used.
"One done. Check," I hiss. "Moving for two."
Without waiting for Ren's verification, I spin in place and begin checking places to install a video camera in here. I know that's what Ren would like, and if it's possible I'm going to try and make it happen. On my first pass around the room nothing jumps out to grab my attention as a suitable hiding place that wouldn't be noticed. Going around the room a second time a bit slower and trying to think outside the box (I know I'm running out of time the longer I'm in here, but I have to make sure before giving up.), I hit upon an idea. There's a heating and air vent near the bottom of one of the walls I hadn’t noticed on my first pass. If I can get the front of it off, then I think I can position a camera back in there and hope for the best.
Jumping over to the vent and pulling out Ren's tiny, battery-operated screwdriver, I finally feel my pocket click twice as Ren lets me know the chair mike is working. Good, I think. Almost done.
The talking upstairs changes pitches and catches my attention, and something about it nags at the back of my mind. I'd like to take a moment to focus on it and see if I can figure out why it's tickling my spider-sense, so to speak, but I don't want to take the time needed to do so.
Thinking about the voices upstairs, though, does remin
d me to check for Rattle Breath, so I pause the screwdriver long enough to make sure I can still hear him moving about several rooms away. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get back, and I agree with his disregard for haste. That suits me just fine.
With the locations of the house’s occupants visualized in my mind, I start the screwdriver back up and let it whirr its way through the final two screws. As the last screw pops out and the vent screen falls away from the wall, I reach into my bag and pull out a tiny camera and a large battery pack. With no power sources nearby or kinetic energy to work off of, this tech is going to have to be completely battery powered. It won't give us full video, but instead just a series of still pictures. But with that low of a level of resolution it means it also sucks a minimal amount of juice from the battery pack. We might be able to get months out of it before it gives up the ghost.
Shoving the camera back into the vent far enough that it can't be seen through the cracks but should still be able to get a decent shot of whoever is in the room, I run the small power cord to the battery and toss it even further down the shaft. If anyone opens the vent then there will be no way to miss our tech sitting there, but as long as the occupants don't go on any sudden cleaning binges and bend down to peek through the slats, then we should be fine. I'm not sure if it'll give us the best pictures in the world, but I am positive whatever pictures we get are better than what we had before.
"Two done. Check," I whisper and pick up the vent to screw it back into place.
I'm pretty sure in the movies this would be the part where the bad guys walk in and catch the hero in the act. It's a scene so easy to envision that I can almost see it playing out in front of me, and it shakes my nerves a little. But as the last screw sets into place and I stand up dropping the screwdriver into its little zippered pouch, nothing happens. No guy steps out to confront me. No alarm goes off or anything.
And then I remember I'm in real life and not a movie. Things like that don't happen here. Smiling, I whisper to Ren, "Done. Heading out," and I start for the back hallway and the unlocked sliding glass door.
And then two things happen simultaneously (or close enough together to register as being simultaneous). A hallway door I had dismissed earlier opens up and a man steps out still tucking in his shirt and looking down at his pants. His actions confuse me for a split second until I realize he is stepping out of a bathroom. He must have been in there the entire time I've been down here (And then when I wonder why I didn't hear him, I realize he must not have washed his hands, either. But that's a thought that will just have to bother me later.), and we just never noticed each other.
The oddness of the upstairs argument hits me as I grasp that I am not listening to two people have a discussion above me, but a television softly playing in the background. What I had thought were two of the three people upstairs was actually only one. Which meant the third man I had sensed when I first arrived was down here with me. I must have smelled 'bathroom' and subconsciously not tried to dig any deeper since I had assumed I already knew where all three of the house's occupants were.
Stunned, I just stand in the dark hallway and stare at the man in front of me as he walks towards me without looking up. Then as his head starts to rise and I know I only have moments left to act, the world comes to a stop around me. He freezes mid-step while his widening eyes are still aimed at my darkly-clothed legs. I don't know for sure if he's seen me yet, but his expression is telling me he's seen something.
And now I have to act.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
My options run through my head as I watch his body try to move through the molasses of time I just created. I could try and run and get away, but I don't know for sure if he's seen me. Or if he has seen me if he even knows what he’s seen. Plus where would I run to? I can't get past him without him knowing I'm there, and going back just takes me to the kitchen which is a dead end.
I could knock him out right here in the hallway and leave him to wake up later and wonder what happened. But if he has seen me then that plan is trash as he'll know something is up and sound the alarm. I wish I could just punch him hard enough to erase his mind. Then I wouldn't have to worry about whether he saw me or not. But I don't have enough skill or experience to know how to hit someone like that. The only way I can tamper with his memory is if I bite him. And I can't really do that here in the hallway with Raspy Breath apt to come back any second.
And then it hits me. Or rather the idea of how to hit him hits me. If I can hit him hard enough now to knock him unconscious then I can just bring him with me, drain him somewhere else and then leave him to wake up confused and having no idea that I ever existed. It may not be an ideal solution, but I think it's the best option I currently have. And with the clock running out since I can't slow time forever and no way to ask Ren for advice, I'm just going to have to make this the one I go with. I'll just deal with the consequences later.
With the decision made, I summon what energy I still have for a final push. Releasing my hold on the moment with an almost audible pop (There is no actual sound, but my brain supplies one to add to the drama!), I rush forward and smash my left fist into the man's gut with as much power as I can bring to it. The air whooshing out of him sounds like someone leaping onto a full bean bag, and any other sounds or warnings he may have been about to make disappear with the rush of air. As he bends over to cradle his stomach and protect himself from my attack, I withdraw my left fist, plant both feet solidly on the ground shoulder-width apart and throw my body weight into an uppercut that lifts him off the ground.
His body goes limp as he rises up into the air away from me. Knowing I can't let him hit the ground and risk alerting the others, I chase after him as he moves through the air. I catch him on my shoulder in mid-stride and keep on moving towards the glass door and freedom. His heaviness weighs on me and makes me realize my energy is running low after everything I've tried to do tonight. The idea of using this man to feed myself is looking less like a strategic move and more like a necessary one. His presence may turn out to be fortuitous after all.
Getting back through the door and closing it behind me is cumbersome with the extra weight, but it only adds a few seconds to the operation. Clearing the back door, I do my best to catch Ren up on the change in plans. "Ran into trouble in the house. Got spotted. That's the bad news," I tell him as I huff across the backyards with my new human-sized backpack. "The good news is that I solved the problem. I think."
There are no reassuring clicks from my pocket as I run, but I know Ren heard me. I'd almost swear I can hear his labored breathing over the speaker except I know his microphone would never be turned on while I'm in the field. The idea of me getting caught while doing this is one of his worst fears. I'm sure he's doing all he can to refrain from having a brain-meltingly strong conniption fit. I take his silence as a show of his mental fortitude.
Reaching the open backyard of the house where I stored the bike, I finally slow to a jog so I can explain the situation to Ren without having to huff through the conversation. "I'm almost at the bike," I tell him. "And I brought along the guy who saw me. I just knocked him unconscious as soon as I saw him, and I brought him with me so that I can feed on him back here in safety. I figure that will wipe his memory, and then he won't know what hit him." I stop rambling and wait for Ren's response.
Walking up behind the house, I unload the man from my shoulder and slump him under a bush near the back door. With him off my shoulder, I take a moment to stretch out my body and wait to see if Ren is going to freak out on me.
When he does finally speak, it is in a controlled and quiet voice. "And then what are you going to do with him?" he asks me.
"What do you mean?" I ask and wonder if Ren is slyly asking me to kill the man to keep him quiet. That's certainly not something I want to do, but if he believes it's the only way...
"Well, once you've," he pauses before saying the word. "Fed on him. Then what? Where do you leave him that won't be suspicious? L
eave him against the house? Take him with you to the next location? Bring him here? Erasing his memory is fine, but how do you suppose we explain his sudden disappearance? Won't that cause just as many questions?"
"Oh," I say simply. I hadn't really thought that part out. I was pretty happy to get a solid handle on the erasing-a-man's-mind part. Figuring out how to explain him suddenly being gone wasn't really even a blip on my radar, so to speak. "Good question."
"Yeah," he tells me. "That's why I asked it. Thoughts?"
I contemplate the choices he gave me, and none of them seem to really work as viable explanations for why this guy would disappear from the house. They would all raise additional questions. Then again my brain is entering a sluggish mode due to being hungry, and none of my thoughts are coming across real strongly right now. But at least I know how to solve that problem.
"Hey Renny. I'm going to turn off my microphone for a few moments so I can at least take care of the first part of the plan. Then I'll work on the second part, ok? The longer I wait, the less effective what I do will be."
"Ok," he mutters and then goes silent.
Stepping over to the thin man's crumpled form, I push his head to the side to give myself a better angle to the artery that's hidden there. Sighing with the small bit of regret from the part of me that still hates that I have to do this in order to survive, I bare my teeth, bite down and puncture the skin. The warmth and salt is an immediate caffeine-like boost to my system, and I can feel every part of my body responding to the red nutrients now flowing from him into me.
As I swallow, my eyes lose focus and drift away from the grass where I'm standing and up towards the house's backyard and patio. There's a nice, glass, outdoor dining table and matching chairs that catch my eye, and for a few moments I try to dream of a life in which that is a purchase a future version of me would make. But I see no future like that. I will never have the kind of life that necessitates the purchase of nice outdoor furnishings. The most I'll need is something simple and functional. Something along the lines of cheap, plastic chairs and a thrown away, broken table-
Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst Page 16