“May I come in? I’d like to speak to you about Robert Cruise.”
It was obvious Candy was high on something, and she confirmed it by smiling beatifically and slurring, “He’s sooo good to me - brought me some shrooms! You want some?”
Scott couldn’t help smiling back at her. She’d already forgotten he was law enforcement. “Sounds good. What kind?”
She turned and walked into the living area, which had a battered couch, stained coffee table and what looked to Scott to be a first-generation holovision. Clothes and garbage were strewn everywhere and the stench of rotten, moldy food nearly made his eyes water. She picked up a plastic bag from the coffee table and waved it in the air. “Mad Eye. Nothing but the best from my Junkie.”
He was a little surprised to hear that Cruise had given his girlfriend Mad Eye Mushrooms, which were specially bioengineered to be a potent hallucinogen, highly sought-after in the black market, and highly illegal. If Cruise was taking orders from Fournier, as the XIA assumed, that made him a member of the XBestia gang. He’d be taking a big chance purchasing drugs from a Mad Eye dealer - unless he’d gotten them second-hand. The quantity in the bag Candy was waving around would be worth thousands of dollars. No way Cruise could afford them unless he’d made a big score recently.
“Wow,” Scott said in an exaggeratedly friendly voice. “Those look fresh, too. Where’d he get ʼem?”
Her puffy eyelids closed until she was looking out at him through mere slits, and her head went slowly back, forming an impressive double chin. “Who are you again?”
“Cougar,” he said, holding his hand out.
As expected, her eyes went wide at the sight of his xenograft. “Whoa, dude.”
“So where’s Robert now?” he asked.
She shook her head, sighed again and subsided onto the couch. Her t-shirt slipped off one shoulder and he saw a small rectangular xenograft in dark fur. He wondered if it was supposed to represent a candy bar. She seemed about to doze off sitting up, so he said again, “Where’s Robert?”
Her eyes closed and she slumped over onto a pile of dirty clothes. “Out.”
“When’s he coming back?”
She giggled, eyes still closed. “Next time he’s lonely.”
“Candy?”
He waited a moment to see if she would respond, and when she didn’t, he gently poked her shoulder.
She was out cold. He took the baggie out of her slack hand, went into the bathroom and emptied it into a toilet that looked like it hadn’t seen a scrub brush in years. He used his foot to depress the handle and flushed the mushrooms down.
Chapter Twenty
For the next four hours, the underground home of the Mad Eye gang became a frantic hive of activity. Every available soldier was put to the task of finding Junk, who, it was eventually determined, must have slipped out sometime during the night. Those who were known to associate with him were then paraded before Maddy. She sat in a throne-like parlor chair set along the inside rim of the unfinished fountain. Dillo stood to the right of her, looking like the grim reaper in his long coat, and the fake Munnu stood on her left. Hundreds of people gathered around the fountain, which resembled a circus ring, an impression that was emphasized by a spotlight someone had set up on the second level and aimed at the center of the circle. Each acquaintance of the accused was made to stand within its bright light.
Maddy had settled down considerably since flying into the early morning rage that had awakened all of Edgemere, but Bryn wasn’t fooled. The Mad Eye queen was deeply disturbed by recent events, and her calm demeanor was only a thin veneer.
She asked the same questions of each person who knew Junk. It was clear the vast majority of them did not know him well. Whenever she waved her hand to dismiss the latest one, her mask of patience slipped a little bit more.
Bryn stood next to Jason in the crowd, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in her belly. After word of the poisonings got out, probably no one here had eaten much. She wanted more than ever to go home, and not just to raid Carla’s refrigerator. The pullout bed wasn’t any great shakes, but compared to a cot in a room crowded with unwashed xenofreak soldiers, it seemed like nirvana.
She wondered when she would have the opportunity to talk to Jason without having to worry about being overheard. She wanted to ask him why he thought it wasn’t safe to contact the XIA. He’d said they needed to disappear until he could find out who else was involved, but it didn’t seem like he was in any hurry to do so. Unless he thought Maddy knew something? One thing Maddy had to know, at least, was that her brother was dead, since the imposter was wearing his face.
The spotlight brought color to this section of the formerly monochrome Edgemere. The man now called Munnu was, indeed, wearing a red jacket. Since it was unlikely he, too, was an albino, his hair must be bleached to be that almost-white shade. She thought maybe she saw the tiniest bit of darkness at the roots. He seemed to spend an awful lot of time staring at Jason with glittering, malevolent eyes. Jason didn’t notice; he was focused on the queen’s spectacle.
The people standing closest to them stirred as if a breeze had blown through. Heads turned and murmurs swelled. There was a disturbance somewhere. Bryn heard a faint shout and the crowd thinned as people moved towards the main entrance. Someone nudged her and she looked around. It was Esmie, the old woman who’d accosted her yesterday. Bryn expected the toothless woman to start in again about recognizing her, but instead, she slipped something surreptitiously into Bryn’s hand and melted away into the crowd. Bryn looked down at the object: an earbug, a cheap one, like the kind children bought out of a gumball machine, where you could record a simple message for your friends to listen to. She wasn’t eager to listen to anything the crazy old hag had to say, so she slipped it into her pocket and forgot about it.
There were more shouts from the crowd, and Bryn thought she made out the name ‘Junk.’ Someone standing next to her said, “They caught him! He was trying to sneak back in. What a moron!” She and Jason were jostled as people moved to make a path for a group of soldiers hauling a man roughly along. As they pushed him into the circle, the latest man under the spotlight scurried away.
One final shove sent Junk to his knees in front of the queen. The crowd hushed and all eyes focused on Maddy. Her head tilted to one side and she blinked several times.
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” she said.
Junk looked up, but said nothing. His lip was bleeding and one eye seemed to be swelling closed. He’d either fought capture or the guards took out their anger on him.
“Which,” she continued, “rather surprises me, considering your actions.”
“What am I accused of?” he asked.
She stood. “Three people are dead. Several more are dying. Young and old. All innocent.”
Junk ducked his head, staring down at the bare concrete without replying.
“Shall I take your silence as an admission of guilt?”
When Junk still didn’t answer her, Maddy crossed her arms over her chest, the muscles in her jaw working. As the seconds ticked by, the tendons stood out on her neck as she continued to tense up like a string drawn on a bow. Even from as far away as they were standing, Bryn cringed a little as she watched the pressure build. Everyone stood enthralled, waiting for Maddy to go ballistic.
When the eruption finally burst forth, it consisted of a name screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Dragila!”
Bryn looked at Jason, astounded.
Without hesitation, he dropped his bags and abandoned her, elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. Maddy raised an arm and pointed at him, crooking her finger to beckon him. To Bryn, it seemed as if Jason flicked some internal switch, turning the simple act of walking across the ring into a display of power, a subtle swagger that held every eye in fascinated suspense. When he stopped a few feet away from Maddy, she said something quietly to him, after which, to Bryn’s further astonishment, he moved back, peeled off
his shirt, and tossed it outside the ring.
He thrust his clenched fists in the air, his muscular arms contracting in a classic body-builder flex, and began to strut in a slow circle around Junk so all could see the fierce dragon on his back with its uplifted wings. The angry-looking scabs, glistening with their covering of pseudo-skin, only served to make the sight that much more intimidating.
Jason bared his teeth in a snarl, practically growling with aggression, before turning to the crowd and shouting out - inciting them with one word: “Justice!”
Pandemonium broke out as men and women pumped their fists into the air, stomped their feet and repeated the word over and over at the top of their lungs.
In Bryn’s world, justice involved giving certain rights to the accused. Somehow, she doubted Junk was going to be afforded that courtesy. Jason moved towards him, his shadow looming over the now cowering xenofreak. Maddy raised her hands and the crowd quieted.
“This is how it’s going to work,” Jason said to Junk, speaking loudly so everyone could hear. “The queen will ask you a question. You will answer quickly and truthfully. If you do not, I will begin the slow process of reducing you to a sticky, red stain. Do you understand?”
Junk cowed away from him and nodded rapidly as the crowd chanted, “Stain, stain, stain, stain!”
Maddy raised her hands again and silence quickly fell. Bryn marveled at the control she had over her subjects. Now that their queen was about to question the man who was responsible for killing their own, they hung on her every word.
“What,” Maddy asked in a pleasant tone, as if she were addressing someone over afternoon tea, “kind of poison did you use?”
Junk’s dull expression changed drastically. He shook his head, pleading. “It wasn’t poison, I swear!”
Jason jerked his arm back, but Maddy held up a hand to stop him.
“Then what was it?” she asked.
Junk mumbled something no one but Maddy and Jason could hear. Maddy’s eyes widened and she staggered back a step, her face incredulous. Jason gaped at him, his arms dropping to his sides.
“And you knew?” Maddy exclaimed. “You knew this, but you came here and infected everyone you came into contact with?” She spat the word ‘infected’ at him.
Junk seemed to perk up a little, and even managed a little bluster. “Xenos are immune! It only affects people without xenografts. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“You never meant...” Words seemed to fail her. She spun on her heel and in an inflectionless voice said, “Kill him.”
“Wait!” Junk held out his arms towards her, begging. “There’s more! I was sent here.”
Her chin went up and after a moment her head turned and she looked down her nose at him. “By whom?”
Junk’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously. “Make me a deal.”
She laughed derisively. “I’d rather make you an example.”
“You need to know this. You need to know what he’s planning.”
“Fine. I’ll torture it out of you.” She gestured to Dillo and Munno. “Take him to the dungeon.”
Junk shouted after her, but his pleas were drowned out by the crowd as they began chanting, “Stain, stain, stain,” again. Jason stepped back as Dillo took one of Junk’s arms and Munno took the other. They hauled him to his feet and propelled him after Maddy, who walked regally across the compound to her pipe lair.
Chapter Twenty-one
When Scott arrived at The Holo House Cafe, Mia was already sitting at a table on the patio, giving her order to the waitress. She’d pulled her long hair back in a casual ponytail today, and was dressed in jeans and a plain pink t-shirt.
He sat in the chair next to her so he could keep an eye on the blood donation center, and tried not to be offended when she tossed him an apologetic smile and switched chairs.
The waitress lifted her eyebrows at him. “Would you like a moment to decide?”
“No,” he said. “I’m in the mood for mushrooms. What have you got?”
She listed the applicable menu items and he ordered a grilled steak and mushroom sandwich.
After she left, Mia asked, “Have you seen the news?”
“No, I’ve been working.”
She slid her holo tablet across the table and activated a clip. A middle-aged male anchor had a picture of the courthouse displayed over his left shoulder and Scott instinctively knew this was going to be bad.
The anchor said, “What do four superior court jurors have in common with six county courthouse employees? Well, this reporter is sorry to say two are dead and the rest are clinging to life at Middleborough Hospital. If you’re wondering if a terrorist bomb went off, then you’d be far from the truth. News 8 reporter Terriann Brunswick has the story.”
The holo switched to a dark-haired female reporter standing in front of the hospital.
“Family members say they’ve been denied access to see their loved ones, who’ve been struck down with typhoid fever, a bacterial infection contracted through eating or drinking contaminated food or water. Hospital administrators are not calling this a quarantine situation, but my sources tell me the patients are all contained to one ward, and personnel coming in contact with them are required to wear personal protective equipment. News 8 Medical Correspondent Keith Johnson told me it’s unusual for someone in the United States to die of typhoid, and yet two of the ten victims have already succumbed. Family members have been given no explanation as to how the disease was contracted, but courthouse employees have since been advised to thoroughly wash their hands after visiting the restroom, and public drinking fountains in the courthouse were shut off. As an additional safeguard, government employees all over the city have been advised to wear facemasks - something my sources tell me couldn’t possibly protect them from a simple outbreak of typhoid. Perhaps, as one official, speaking under the condition of anonymity, suggested to me, the masks are a misguided precaution. Or, as the same official said, ‘Keep your eye on this one. It could be big.’ Terriann Brunswick reporting for News 8 from the downtown courthouse.”
The view switched back to the male anchor, who launched into another story. Scott stopped the clip. “Has Shasta seen this?”
“She’s the one who sent me the link. Apparently your deputy director - Unger?” When Scott nodded, she continued, “wasn’t too happy about it.”
He waited while the waitress deposited their meals on the table, and answered as soon as she left.
“What’d he expect? People are dying. You can’t just sweep that under the rug.”
“I would hate to be in his position, though. No matter what he does, criticism will follow.”
He shrugged. “The price you pay for power. If it was your family member who died, would you be content with a ‘we didn’t want to panic the public’ explanation?”
“Of course not. Have you made any progress finding Robert Cruise?”
“I know where he isn’t. How about you? Any headway on the typhoid?”
“Two of the eight people still in quarantine seem to be responding to a new class of antibiotics, but they were also in the group who were previously immunized. And we’ve identified a mutation in the flagellum.”
“Uh, you’re gonna need to dumb that down for me.” He took a big bite of the sandwich, and had to grab for his napkin as a dribble of juice headed down his chin.
“Flagellum.” She held up a finger and wiggled it. “The tail bacteria swim with.”
He took care to finish chewing and swallow before responding. “You know...I was exposed to it.”
“What? The typhoid? How?”
“Cruise isn’t the first person the XIA identified as being a possible carrier. A xenofreak named Dundee is suspected of infecting the first non-xenos who came down with it. I had contact with him.”
“And I’m just now finding this out?” She looked dumbfounded.
“I wasn’t exactly briefed on what you do and don’t know, and it just now oc
curred to me to mention it.”
“Has anyone ever tested you?”
“Of course they did.”
“And?”
“And...I don’t know the results.”
She sighed, turned in her seat and lifted a hand, trying to catch the waitress’ eye.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting this to go. Yours too.”
“Please tell me you don’t plan on making a pincushion out of me.”
She snorted delicately and said, “Afraid of a little needle? Guess I’m not the only one with a phobia.”
“Funny.”
He started to say more, but caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Across the street, a slight figure was lurking in the alley between the blood donation center and the building next to it. Even without being able to see her clearly, he knew it was Padme.
He glanced regretfully at his sandwich, but said, “Sorry, Doc. Gotta go.”
She sputtered a protest, but he ignored her and leaped the fence to cross the street.
Whatever had prompted Padme to come out in broad daylight had to be important. When he got close enough, she turned, walked down the alley and stopped by a dumpster. She was wearing a bulky parka with the fur-lined hood drawn forward to conceal her cow ears. For the first time since she’d reappeared in his life, he got a good look at her face. What he’d mistaken last night in the dim light as dark circles under her eyes now looked more like faded bruising, as if someone had been using her as a punching bag.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I found Bryn for you.”
“What?” It was the last thing he expected her to say. “Why would you do that?”
“Technically, the information dropped into my lap. She’s at Edgemere with a Mad Eye lieutenant. Is he the missing agent? Wait, no, don’t tell me. It’s best if you do not confirm that.”
Padme had never been one to talk much, but she was practically babbling now. Her nervousness was palpable, but he didn’t dwell on it.
“Is she okay?”
Xenofreak Nation, Book Two: Mad Eye Page 10