Chemical Burn

by Quincy J. Allen

  Using a washbasin in the corner of the lab, he pulled his razor off the table and proceeded to carefully shave every surface of his exposed skin save his eyebrows, rinsing the razor as he went. Once finished, he put the razor back in the pack and emptied the bag of hair into the vat. Xen paused for a moment, taking in what he’d done. A nervous laughter bubbled out of him as he stared down at the scattered mess in the bottom of the vat.

  “That’s just nasty,” he said and tried to get hold of his laughing.

  He closed the swinging door and twisted down the sealing lever. It was time to put together his disguise. Panty hose went on first. He’d never worn them before and had no idea what to expect. They tingled as they went on, and he stood there looking at his legs for a minute. He realized that he actually had nice legs.

  Pushing the rather bizarre thought away, he grabbed the padded bra he’d picked up and spent the next five minutes trying to put the thing on, straining his arms behind his back.

  “How the hell do women do this?” he asked the bra.

  Finally, he pulled it back off, hooked the clasps and pulled it over his head, adjusting it into place with a frustrated sigh of accomplishment. The dress went over his head next—a blue, high-collared affair with short sleeves and a skirt that went down to his knees. He buttoned up the collar and adjusted it in a few places.

  He grabbed a tube of light red lipstick and a small mirror. Working clumsily, he put it on and pinched his lips together the way he’d seen so many women do. Even to his untrained eye, it looked pretty bad. He went to the sink again, grabbed some paper towel and rubbed it off, carefully avoiding spreading it around. He put some more on, using less this time, and went through the lip motion again. This time it didn’t make him look like a bald, hooker, so he gave it a rest.

  He pulled out a long, curly black wig and slipped that over his head, adjusting it carefully in the mirror. Shoes went on next, blue pumps with the lowest, widest heels he could find. He folded and compressed the first backpack then slipped it into a smaller one. The trash, razor, clippers, and everything else went inside, and he spent the next ten minutes walking around the area making sure that he hadn’t left anything.

  Grabbing more paper towels and using bleach, he thoroughly wiped down every surface he’d touched and every other surface even remotely nearby. When the area was as spotless as he could make it, he went over to the tank control panel and, using more paper towel to touch the controls, flipped the pump power switch. When the light above it went green, he selected the tank with the mess inside as the receiver and the full tank as the sender. He pressed the transfer button and heard the satisfying sound of fluid pouring into the vat.

  The finishing touch on his outfit was a pair of the biggest black sunglasses he could find. They covered almost half of his face. He grabbed his backpack and walked out, his ankles wobbling only a little, and his ass wiggling a lot more than he would have thought possible.

  The walk through the labyrinth unnerved him, but he didn’t see a soul as he made it to the last, long hallway that led to the main lobby. Turning the last corner, he saw two rent-a-cops walking his way. He almost froze, but common sense kept him walking straight at them. As the distance closed, his heart beat faster and faster, and he felt his cheeks flush. He stared straight ahead at the two men and realized something. Neither of them looked at his face. One was obviously a leg man, and the other couldn’t keep his eyes off Xen’s padded tits.

  So this is what it’s like, Xen thought ironically. It was no accident that Xen spent the rest of his life looking women in the eyes when he talked to them.

  “Hey, how ya doing, miss?” the leg man said provocatively. They partially blocked the hallway, so Xen had to stop. He looked down slightly, trying to act shy. His mind raced as he tried to figure a way out of this.

  “Are you new around here,” the tit man asked. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”

  An idea popped into Xen’s head. He put on his best Chinese woman’s accent and hoped it did the job. “Me … new … how you say …” and he made a typing motion with his hands.

  “Receptionist?” the leg man offered.

  Xen smiled broadly and nodded his head vigorously. “That it!” he added. “Me … new … rec-cept-shun-ist,” he finished slowly. “Work late to catch up. Must go now.…” he added quickly and pushed between them.

  “Have a nice day, miss,” the tit man added.

  Xen beamed as he walked away. He’d actually pulled it off. As he walked down the hall, he put a little more swing in his stride. The two men stared at his shapely, swaying ass.

  Xen owned it, walking like every hooker he’d ever seen in a movie … right up until his ankle gave way and he stumbled. He recovered quickly and heard some chuckling behind him. He started walking a little more stiffly to avoid tripping again, raised his right hand, and gave them both the finger.

  Both men guffawed at the sight and applauded.

  Xen walked through the lobby, waving at a maintenance guy talking to one of the office cleaners, pressed the door-lever with his palms, and walked out into open air. He’d made it. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, stopped, and set the backpack down. He pulled out a pay-as-you-go cell phone he’d bought at the mall. He’d spoken broken English then, too, telling the clerk that he’d lost his wallet and job and needed a phone to call friends and get everything squared away. It wasn’t standard policy, but the kid caved in when Xen tucked a hundred dollar bill in his pocket.

  Using his woman’s voice and maintaining the broken English, Xen dialed the number for a major cab company to come pick him up out on the main road. He told them his car had broken down and he would be walking away from the plant. They said they’d have a man out in about thirty minutes.

  Xen went back to his car, opened the trunk, pulled out his suitcase, and hit the sidewalk with fast, steady strides. About twenty minutes later a cab came up behind him. The guy helped Xen with the suitcase, trying to make small talk, but Xen laid it on thick with the accent so he wouldn’t have to say much.

  “Where to, miss?” the guy asked as they both got in the cab.

  “Bus station,” he said quietly. I’m almost home free, he thought as he stared at the cab driver in the rearview mirror.

  “You got it.” The cabbie flipped the meter and off they went.

  Twenty minutes later Xen paid the man, adding a sizeable tip, and headed into the bus station. He paid cash for a ticket to the Grand Canyon and sat comfortably in his seat two hours later as it pulled out of the station. He’d always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, and on the possibility that he might actually get killed in the near future, he considered it a good place to lie low.

  O O O

  “I spent the week in a motel near the Grand Canyon,” Xen said, “whiling away the hours walking around and enjoying the scenery.” He pulled on a cigar and blew the smoke out proudly.

  “Xen,” I said, my voice filling with admiration, “you can have my job. That was a hell of a piece of work.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, out of curiosity …” I stared at Xen with a great big smile on my face. “How’d you like the pantyhose?”

  He looked unsure for a minute, glancing at both of us, struggling with some internal conflict.

  “Come on, be honest. I just told you I was a fucking alien.”

  “Honestly?” he asked shyly.

  “Yeah,” Rachel prompted.

  A subtle smile spread over his face, turning to a clowning one. “I kind of liked it.”

  We all laughed.

  “So did I when I had to wear them,” I said between laughs. “Glad I’m not the only one … Kilts are pretty cool too, especially commando,” I added.

  “I’ll have to try that.” He shook his head.

  “You should, you have better legs than I do.”

  “That’s true,” he added proudly.

  Rachel looked at both of us, grinning. “You guys want some help? I know a few clubs I coul
d take you to. You could dress up real pretty. I’ll even help you do your makeup … We’ll get Marsha and have a girls’ night out.”

  We laughed at that, and the laughing lasted for a while.

  I finally caught my breath. “Shit, that’s funny. I’m tempted to take you up on that just to see what it’s like.”

  “Okay,” Xen said, breathing heavily through the laughs. “This is getting a little weird.”

  “Prude!” Rachel shot at him, which renewed the laughter.

  “Look,” I interrupted, “I hate to break this up, but we really do have to get that data to O’Neil.”

  “Oh yeah, right,” he said. “Do you have wireless here?”

  “Nope, and there’s too much data to use the dialup, even with the compression I have set up. And this far from my loft, the planet gets in the way of my primary signal.”

  “Oh.” Xen looked disappointed.

  “If it’s wireless in your loft, why don’t we just open the front door,” Rachel offered, chiming in.

  I was about to say something smart and then paused, thinking about it. “I never thought of that. Sweetie, you’re a genius.”

  “Can we finish these, first?” Xen held up his cigar

  “It would be criminal to waste them.” I blew out a large cloud of Cuban delight.

  A few minutes later, I sat in the living room with the front door open to my loft and the laptop in front of me. I stuck in the thumb drive, spent a few minutes zipping up data into sizes that would get through O’Neil’s email gateway and then shipped them off.

  I grabbed my cell phone and dialed O’Neil. “Hey. Yeah, it’s me. I just sent that data over. It’s in your email. A couple dozen zip files. Let me know if any didn’t come through,” I paused. “See ya.” I closed my phone and turned to my friends. “Cigars and dinner at the casino?”

  “Yes!” they said in unison.

  I shot a thumb at Xen. “Dinner is on moneybags over here with his three hundred grand.”

  “My pleasure.” He bowed his head, and we went over to the casino.

  ***

  Just Like Normal People

  After dinner at the casino, Rachel and I went to the loft for some private time and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. In the morning, I opened my eyes to see Rachel sitting up on one elbow and scratching Mag between the ears. Mag, rasping quietly, had taken up residence between us. I suddenly realized that Mag and I had been a team, just the two of us, for over a hundred years. It never occurred to me that Magdelain might reject Rachel. I reached out and scratched Mag under the chin. The rasping picked up in volume.

  “I take it you two are sorting things out?” I asked hopefully.

  “I believe we already have.” Rachel rubbed the top of Mag’s head vigorously, and Mag returned the affection by licking Rachel’s hand. “We’ve become fast friends.”

  “Can’t tell you how happy that makes me. You’re my two favorite people.”

  “She is people, isn’t she?” Rachel’s voice held a tinge of awe.

  “Yeah. Treat her like a teenage daughter … well, more like sister,” I corrected thoughtfully. “An incredibly deadly one. She understands English … and my native tongue, of course. And I’m teaching her Spanish. She just can’t speak any of it, no vocal chords. There have been times when I wish they’d given her vocal chords and me claws.”

  “You two really were made for each other?”

  “Yep. We share a lot of DNA, and we were designed to complement each other when we work … well, play is a better word for it, as sick as that sounds, even to me. The people who created us really did know what they were doing in that regard. We’re the most dangerous brother and sister you ever met.”

  “So, I’m in bed with you and your sister?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Kinky,” she added a bit seductively, putting her hand on my arm and Mag’s back.

  “Pervert!” I cried, feigning moral outrage.

  Mag smiled and licked my face. Both females looked at me suggestively, and up until that moment, I wouldn’t have thought Mag was capable of the feat.

  “You’re both perverts!” I repeated, but with considerably less feigning this time.

  Rachel started laughed, and Mag gave me one of her I-got-you smiles.

  My face shifted to the realization of a sobering truth. “I’ve just been outnumbered, haven’t I?” A strange sort of fear struck at my insides.

  “Yep.” Rachel and Mag smiled even more.

  Mag took her paw and put it on my mouth.

  “I think she’s trying to say, Shut-up and accept your fate,” Rachel added.

  Mag nodded to her and then looked back at me with a smile.

  “This is going to take some getting used to,” I said mostly to myself and then rolled out of bed. “How about a shower and some breakfast while I try and figure out how to get the upper hand on the two of you?”

  “Only if you let me join you.” Rachel stood up and walked towards the back of the loft.

  I looked at Mag. “You want to come?” I asked a bit sarcastically.

  She shook her head, gave me an I’ll-pass-on-this-one-ace look and rolled over on her side, closing her eyes.

  I followed Rachel through the back door of the loft, into the bathroom on the right. We spent the next forty-five minutes scrubbing, which turned into exploring, which turned into … well … none of your damn business. I dried myself off quickly, got dressed and went to prepare breakfast.

  Rachel came out fully dressed fifteen minutes later, and we sat down to bacon, eggs, and orange juice. Mag still slept, curled up on the bed. Rachel walked over to the living area and fiddled with the remote when my phone rang.

  I grabbed it and, seeing the caller, answered. “Hi Marsha! How’s the job coming?”

  “Really well,” she said enthusiastically. “You did say carte blanche, right?” The hesitation in her voice told me she planned on doing the place to the nines.

  “That I did,” I replied warily. “If you haven’t added in some video poker and live baccarat, consider it. Turns out Xen is a wiz at baccarat. Did Stanley hook you up with that designer?”

  My TV came on to the news, and Rachel had to quickly turn down the volume.

  “Yes! And she’s really good … at a number of things,” she added seductively. It sounded to me as if Marsha had found a new playmate.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” my voice carried an understanding smile. “You two an item?”

  “Naw … this is just playtime. We both have our work, you know? But that’s not the reason I called.”

  “Really? What can I do you for then?”

  “The doctor gave me a clean bill of health yesterday. I can start training again, and I really want to. I’ve been going stir crazy from not being able to work out. Can we?”

  “Hell yes! We’ll start tomorrow tonight if you like. I think … hang on.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and focused on Rachel who was engrossed in something on the television. “You want to start training with Marsha tomorrow?”

  Rachel peeled her eyes away from the T.V. and looked at me, confusion turned to excitement. “You bet!” she replied enthusiastically. “I can’t wait!” I saw a flicker of the predator show itself on her face and then disappear back into whatever had caught her attention on the TV.

  I put the phone back to my ear. “It’s a date. Come on over to the house around five and bring your gear. Oh, and if you want to stay at the house tonight and start working out on your own, you’re more than welcome. We won’t be there till tomorrow.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that … Oh, and Justin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you and Rachel finally got together. I really like her.”

  The comment made me feel warm. “Thanks, Marsha. Me too. I’ll see you then.”

  “Ciao!” She hung up.

  Rachel looked at me with an astonished face. “Justin Case?”

  “Uhh … yeah … that’s me.” I looked around in
confusion, wondering if it was a trick question.

  “No …” She pointed to the TV. “You have a movie called Justin Case.”

  Realization flooded through me. “Oh shit! I forgot that was in there … yeah, I watch it every now and again.”

  “They made a movie about you?” she asked incredulously as she pressed pause.

  I laughed. “No. That’s the first movie I saw after arriving on Earth. I liked the character and the name, so I used it.”

  “Justin isn’t your real name?”

  “Sure it is. It says so on one of my driver’s licenses.” I reached for my wallet to prove it to her.

  “You know what I mean,” she accused. She shook her head.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said smiling a bit evasively.

  “So, are you going to tell me your real name, or do I have to beat it out of you?” she challenged.

  “Jalin,” I said a bit somberly. “No last name. They used to call me Jalin, but he’s dead … well, at least mostly. He crops up when the killing starts, though.” A sad look flickered across my face at the memory, partly because of what I used to be, but more because of what I used to do. Jalin is the mean, heartless son-of-a-bitch who enjoys killing. When he takes over, there’s just the sheer delight of ending people. It took me a long time to put reins on him, and I have him under control, but I feel a little dirty every time I let him creep out from under his rock and do what he does.

  But now he does what I tell him.

  “I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.…”

  “No, it’s okay. No secrets …” I smiled, walked over, leaned down and kissed her. “Not with you, anyway.” She smiled up at me and put her hand warmly against my cheek. I’m sure she wouldn’t press me on it, but I figured she wanted to know more about Jalin and why I hated him so much.

  “Can I watch it?” she asked.

  “Go right ahead. I’m going to get caught up on email while you do that. Want some popcorn?”

  She shook her head and pressed play.

  O O O

  “How’s Xen doing on the data?” Rachel asked as I handed her a beer. She lounged on the patio of the Costa Rica house, the afternoon sun tanning every inch of skin not covered by a skimpy, pink bikini. We’d come through shortly after the movie. When it ended, Rachel had said it was cute. I knew she was being generous.