by Nate Johnson
“Yes,” the detective said. “Nolan, this is Dr. Clemens, and Mr. Sinclair.”
Nolan nodded and did one last scan before he raised his barriers to their full power. He needed to concentrate.
“First off, just so you know. If anyone tries anything, my finger is over the send button for an email addressed to every press outlet, internet blogger, and TV station I could think of.” The words of Detective Washington had given him the idea.
“That’s okay kid, they’d never believe you,” Mr. Sinclair said with a sneer.
Nolan didn’t like this guy. He reminded him of Billy Carp. He enjoyed other people’s pain too much.
“Maybe,” he said. “But there are enough people, who know enough that they can confirm quite a bit of it. The people at the bunker, Cheevers Butler, Mrs. Jackson. You can’t kill them all. That’d only confirm the story.”
“We don’t kill people,” Dr. Clemens said. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”
Nolan ignored him. “Second, once we come to some kind of agreement, I want you both to produce a video confirming everything in my story. You will send me that video. I will forward that email to half the world if you break the deal.”
Sinclair laughed, “Ain’t going to happen, you’re not in charge here.”
Dr. Clemens though didn’t think so. It would be a way to keep Sinclair in check and if it meant getting a hold of this kid it might be worth the risk.
A heavy silence fell between the group. Nolan said nothing, he stood there silently and waited. This was key. If they wouldn’t do this, they would never sacrifice control.
At last Dr. Clemons decided it might be possible, but he needed to know for sure that this kid was for real.
“Think of something,” Nolan said. Thoughts flowed into him. “Seventeen, pancakes and syrup, your son Jimmy’s little league game yesterday.” He said as each thought appeared in the scientist's head.
Dr. Clemens’ eyes grew big as his jaw dropped open. He shook his head then looked at Detective Washington as if to confirm what had just happened.
“Now you,” Nolan said to Mr. Sinclair. “This can’t be real. chocolate cake, Miss Jenkins at the office has a nice ass. Really, Mr. Sinclair please try to keep this professional.”
The security man’s eyes narrowed with hate. A pure burning need to shoot the kid between the eyes came to the forefront of his mind.
“I wouldn’t think of doing it, I swear, I’ll send this email,” Nolan said as a bead of sweat ran down his back.
Doctor Clemens looked back at the other man then yelled “No!” as he held up his hands and stepped between them.
Sinclair didn’t take his eyes off of Nolan. A heavy minute passed. At last, he nodded, “Okay kid, for now, okay.”
Nolan relaxed. The realization of how much they needed him filled him with confidence. This might work.
“Third,” he said. “I want to get paid. If I’m going to work for the government, it is the least they can do.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s say, three times what you make Dr. Clemens.”
The man gasped. “Hell, that’d be more than the president. Under the law there are limits.”
“You can replace a president. Me? Not so much. I’m a one of a kind. Your call? But it’s not negotiable.”
A heavy silence fell over the group.
“Make him a contractor, a consultant,” Detective Washington said. He smiled at Nolan and nodded. “You’re doing good kid, you’ve got them by the short hairs.”
Dr. Clemons paused as if he were evaluating the offer, But he’d already made up his mind to accept it. Maybe he could talk the kid down on the amount though.
Nolan received every thought. It was amazing how easy negotiations were when you could read your opponents mind.
“You can’t talk me down,” he said. “Take it or leave it. And we both know that you’ve already decided to take it.”
The doctor’s face turned pale with the realization of what was happening. He hadn’t really understood until that moment what was possible.
It was Sinclair though that stepped forward. “It’s a deal Mr. Reed,” he said with an approving nod. A sense of respect and a little worry passed through his mind.
Nolan relaxed, a little, not all the way, but enough. For the first time since Cheevers, he was able to breathe normally. His mind jumped to Marla. What would she think?
“We have a place for you,” Dr. Clemons said. “Will you come with us? We need to get started.”
Nolan shook his head. “I’ll be there. Monday morning. Just like a regular job. Eight to five. Detective Washington, do you know a lawyer? Can you have him meet me at the federal building on Monday?”
“We can’t have unauthorized people knowing about you,” Sinclair said.
“He doesn’t have to know,” Nolan answered. “I just want him to go over the contracts. Make sure you guys aren’t screwing me over.”
Both men nodded. They could accept that.
“Also,” Nolan continued, “Marla Jackson, her mother, - Mrs. Jackson - and Detective Washington are not to be bothered. They are no longer involved. If you need something, you come to me. Understood?
Again, both men nodded.
Nolan sighed, they’d agreed. “Well then, gentlemen, I will see you Monday morning.”
Both of them looked as if they’d just lost a prize fish. Dr. Clemens was desperate to get started. Sinclair didn’t want to let him out of his sight.
“Don’t worry, Sinclair, I won’t get hit by a bus crossing the street. I’ll be careful.”
Sinclair winced and shook his head.
“Okay, Monday it is,” Sinclair said. “If you’re not there, There won’t be a hole small enough for you to hide in. I’ll call out the Marines and half the Army if I need to. Do you understand?”
Nolan just smiled and nodded. The two men returned to the car. “Are you coming, Detective?” The good doctor asked.
Jake smiled and shook his head. “I think I’ll stay here for now,” he said, looking at Nolan for permission to remain behind. Nolan acknowledged his silent request with a nod.
The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched the other men drive away.
“Okay kid,” the detective said. “Most definitely okay.” The sense of pride that came over Nolan filled him. It had been a great day, now there was just one more thing.
Chapter Sixteen
Marla pushed her mac and cheese around her plate. You’d think after a half a century a school cafeteria could figure out how to make mac and cheese. The box had directions and everything.
Cindy and Jess were gabbing about next week’s dance.
“Any chance of you and Nolan going?” Cindy asked. Marla’s stomach dropped. Why did she have to ask questions like that? Couldn’t she see the pain it caused?
“Nolan doesn’t go to this school anymore, remember,” Marla said with a sadness that could have filled half the world.
Cindy’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she looked across the room. “Then what’s he doing walking towards us?”
Marla’s heart jumped as she spun around.
There, walking towards her was Nolan Reed. He looked whole, unhurt. No scars, or painful eyes. The greatest, sweetest person to ever live. And he was looking at her as if he wanted to eat her up.
She gasped and held a hand to her throat. What was he doing here? How could he risk this? She looked around, frantically tried to understand. Were men in Ninja suits even now preparing to storm the room and take him?
But at last emotions overwhelmed her and she didn’t care. All she cared about was that he was here, alive.
“Nolan,” she said to herself as she rushed across the cafeteria and into his arms. To hell with school rules about personal displays of affection. The principal could take his PDA rules and shove them. To hell with being the center of attention. This was Nolan. He smelled of leather and soap and heaven itself.
His arms wrapped around her and pul
led her into an embrace that she wished would never end.
“I love you,” she said into his shoulder as she squeezed back. “How? Why?” she asked, refusing to let him go.
He buried his face in her hair, his chest shaking with his laughter. “I’ll explain later, Now, just let me hold you.”
She leaned back and stared up into his eyes. A fleeting thought of him reading her crossed her mind. But she didn’t care, she realized. Not if it meant she could be with him. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice breaking with concern.
He chuckled. “When a man is as in love as I am,” he said, “he is always all right.”
Marla didn’t need to read minds to know that he was telling the truth. His arms and that smile told her all she needed to know.
THE END
Author Notes
I would like to thank you for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. As always, I would like to thank my family and friends. No author is an island. We absorb experiences from the people around us and twist them into what we need for the story.
If you enjoyed this book. I thought you might enjoy a book by my friend G.L. Snodgrass. Worth Saving – He’s let me include a couple of chapters. I do like tempting people. It is a great story, check it out.
If you need to contact me. Email me at [email protected]. I am always interested in hearing from my readers.
Thank you again
Worth Saving
Chapter One
I wasn’t the last person on earth I reminded myself, it just felt that way. A gut wrenching loneliness that never went away.
Blowing trash and a whistling wind were the only distractions as my eyes scanned across each window, every doorway, searching for movement or anything not right. So far everything seemed okay, but hey, you can never be too sure.
Taking a deep breath I scrambled across the street and ducked into an old restaurant. The door had been smashed but the windows were still intact, a minor miracle after five years. The air smelled dusty and old with a biting taste.
Stepping in, I followed my bow and arrow, ready for any surprise, be they bogey men, or worse, rats. I hated rats, they always appeared so damn happy with the world. Thankfully the place was quieter than a corps.
My stomach growled as I began searching for food. Hell, it beat hunting in the park. You never knew I might get lucky. My heart dropped when I realized the place had been cleaned out years ago. Everything was empty. All the shelves in the kitchen were bare, even the trashcan was empty. I slammed my hand on the counter top and slowly spun around. Searching, my mouth watering, I’d let my hopes get too high.
Spying an office to the side, the door partially open I stuck my head inside and gave it a quick glance, I almost tripped over my own two feet when I saw what they’d left behind the desk. Somebody had made a nice little pile of a ten pound bag of flour, a restaurant can of cooking oil, and a Danish ham in a can. I couldn’t believe it and had to keep swallowing as my mouth filled with saliva just thinking about all that salty goodness.
Using my free hand I wiped off a fine layer of dust from the can of ham, hoping to see some kind of expiration date. Hell who was I kidding, the thing could have expired years ago it wouldn’t stop me. Nothing I couldn’t fix with a hot fire and a frying pan.
Bending down I stuffed my backpack. My heart racing a mile a minute as I started thinking of all the ways I could cook it. Throwing my bag over my shoulder I scanned the kitchen area one last time. Finding nothing new I sighed and returned to the dining room. I might have made it out if that one thing hadn’t caught my eye, something off kilter, that one thing out of whack.
A small boot prints in the dust by the front door. It had me instantly dropping my pack and slipping my machete from its scabbard with a hissing “sssshwing” sound. I quickly searched high and low, every dark corner and under every table but there was no one. I was still alone and able to breathe again. Squatting down I examined the boot track. It wasn’t mine, too small, and with a pointy toe.
Resting on my heels, I ran a finger along the edges comparing it to my tracks through the dust. This one looked a little older, like it’d been made a few days ago. I must have missed it.
“Not good Kris,” I mumbled to myself. Mistakes like that could get a person killed around here. I never would’ve missed it at home. I knew where to look and what was important on the mountain. Here, everything was different, out of place. I had to think about every action, every detail. None of it came instinctively since I left the mountains.
A scary thought flashed through my mind, why hadn’t they found the ham and flour? Had they left it for me? Was it some kind of trap? Poison maybe? Or did they have so much food they didn’t need this stuff?
It was confusing, not enough to get me to leave the food behind though. I might be nervous, but I was also hungry. Hunger can make a man do some pretty dumb things. I hoped this wasn’t one of them.
Closing my eyes I let my senses take over, searching for any noise or smell. Hoping to get some type of feeling about what I should do next. Of course nothing happened. A little disappointed I grabbed my pack and peaked out the front door, machete back in its scabbard and bow and arrow leading the way. I made sure the street was clear before I left the building and started making my way back to my home in the Library.
I’d walked about half a block when a subtle twitch started traveling between my shoulder blades. You know, the kind you feel when someone is staring daggers into your back. Whoever they were they were good at hiding. I stood there, examining every possible hiding space.
Seeing all the useless cars parked on the street made me remember the Tinker I’d met two years earlier. He’d driven to the farm in a horse drawn wagon and laughed when he saw me staring at his horses.
He bitched about the useless electric cars. “No electricity, no car, He said as he unhitched his team and complained that all the gas had gone bad, ruined by the chemicals the big oil companies added to it. After a few years of sitting around, the gas clumped together and ruined the engines. Because no one had pumped new oil since the illness, that meant no one went anywhere and that was why being a Tinker with horses was valuable. “No gas, no car,”
My mind snapped back to the street. It wasn’t good to let my mind wander like that. I must be hungrier than I thought as I scanned the street again. Nothing! The feeling was still there. It was so frustrating. I wanted to find people, I was done with being alone all the time. Unfortunately they didn’t want anything to do with me.
Resuming my journey, I was almost at my new home when I spun around real fast and caught a movement. Someone had ducked back behind the big brown First National Bank on the corner. Running as fast as the heavy pack would let me, I rounded the corner but no one was there. The street was emptier than my stomach. There wasn’t even blowing trash to distract the eye. They could be anywhere by now, having slipped into any of a dozen buildings.
“I just want to talk,” I yelled, surprised at the sound of my voice. I hadn’t planned on saying anything but I was getting pissed off with this constant game of hide and seek.
Frustrated, I turned for home. The shoulder twitch didn’t go away.
.o0o.
Sitting on the ledge of the cathedral’s bell tower, six stories above the street. I draped my arm over the ugliest of the gargoyles like a modern day Quasimodo as I wondered about my future.
Looking out across the city I scanned everything, each street, building or back alley for any sign of life. Hoping to see smoke, moving cars, recent construction, anything. The city looked deader than the bodies in the church below. I’d come to the cathedral ledge to watch the sunrise over the city and come to some type of resolution. Go or stay? If go, where?
The purple sky slowly turned red and eventually yellow enough to start throwing deep dark shadows. This was the most active time of the day, with enough light to see potential predators and enough shadows to find good hiding spots. Dispersed people made quick trips from d
oorway to doorway and into derelict building to retrieve what they needed.
After several minutes of watching, I saw what I was looking for; a slight figure at the end of the block slowly opened a door and scampered across the street to a strip mall and into one of the stores. They were dressed in jeans and a green sweatshirt with their hood up. I’d seen this person twice before and didn’t think they lived in either building. If they followed the normal pattern they’d return the same way they came. I gathered my things and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Within minutes I was in the tall building and in place. Crouched behind a receptionist desk, my leg muscles burned as I waited.
It wasn’t long before I was rewarded with the crunch of glass as the person returned from their supply run. Quickly standing, gripping my bow and notched arrow aimed between their shoulder blades. I watched them close the door.
“Hello,” I said. What else do you say in a situation like that?
The person squealed and turned with a nasty looking spear in her hand. She crouched ready to take on whatever awaited her.
A Girl! About my age. Eighteen or so, and she wanted to shove her spear into me three ways from Sunday. She whipped her hood back to eliminate any blind spots and put her back to the wall making sure nothing could come up from behind. Her eyes bore into me with such hate that I felt dirty, like I’d failed somehow.
“Hold on, I just want to talk,” I stammered. My voice sounded horse and unused. I moved the arrow so it no longer pointed at her and held up my other hand. “Just talk,” I said with more clarity this time.
Her pony tail whipped back and forth as she searched the area for other threats. Seeing none, her gaze returned to stare at me as she slowly slid back to the door. The tip of her spear never waved. Reaching behind her she grabbed the knob with her left hand.
“Please,” I said, sounding all needy and stuff. “Why is everyone hiding?” I added. Hoping that if she knew I was curious and not a threat she might relent. Still no response