Mind Sync

by Kirsten Harrell

  “What if whatever is causing these people to go nuts affects one of us?”

  “Christ. Bree, please just listen to me. I’m telling you, don’t get tangled up with this.” Max huffed, then got up and walked away.

  “I’m not a fucking incompetent idiot. And you know that. I can manage a little digging around without getting k-snagged.” Bree raised her voice enough to be heard. Or maybe, just because she was pissed.

  “It has nothing to do with your competence, Bree. I’m telling you for the last time. Stay. Out. Of. This.” Max didn’t raise his voice, but his anger rang clear in his tone.

  “What the fuck? You are being an ass. You don’t get to order me around.” In her gut, Bree knew Max was hiding something. She wanted to push him to get to the truth, but that would need to wait.

  Jason had gone perfectly still. Only his eyes moving, darting back and forth between Bree and Max.

  Bree looked away from Jason. As much as she hated conceding to Max, they agreed on one thing: she needed to protect Jason at all cost. Which, at this moment, meant dropping the subject. She forced a sip of beer but couldn’t swallow the lump of anger. Not trusting herself to speak, she opted to take Max the lightly browned marshmallow she pulled from the fire.

  Max took the skewer and mumbled, “thanks.”

  Jason let out a breath and his chair creaked. Bree cranked up the music. Her favorite rock playlist blared through her wireless speakers. Max came back to the fire to build his s‘more with the perfectly toasted peace offering from Bree. They ate dessert, drank beer, and listened to music until tempers cooled.

  Jason finally broke the silence. “What do you guys think about the newest Kawasaki Ninja?”

  Bree’s lip curled up. “Dude, no brother of mine is gonna get a crotch rocket. You get a Harley or I’m gonna disown you.”

  Max laughed. The tension deflated.

  “If I get one, you can disown me if you can catch me,” Jason quipped.

  “If you want to outrun Bree on one of those cheap, plastic - and let’s not forget, ugly - pieces of shit, you better take out some life insurance,” Max added.

  “Oh, shut up! Like you don’t speed on your bike.” Jason threw a graham cracker at Max.

  “That’s ‘cuz he rides a Harley. Not a plastic piece of shit with a motor.” Bree smirked, grateful for family, booze, and bikes.

  6

  “Holy hell. I feel like shit. I might need to cut my plan short.” Bree rubbed her temples.

  Jason leaned forward in his chair. “What plan?”

  “My plan to drink myself into oblivion to avoid reality for a few months.”

  “Drink this and you’ll feel better. And, I’d say it’s time for plan B.” Max winked at Bree and handed her a freshly made smoothie.

  “Sure. Says the guy who did the very same thing after leaving the military.”

  “Exactly. And guess what I learned… the hangovers are hell. And that much too much booze will wreck your body and your relationships.”

  “That’s enough Mr. Do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do.” Bree downed some of the smoothie. “Shit! Now I’ve got a cold headache too.”

  After breakfast and coffee, Jase cleared the dishes from the table and placed them in the sink. “I’m outta here. I’ve got to work. I’ll see you guys later.” He let the door slam on his way out.

  Bree flinched. “Damn it, my headache was starting to fade.”

  “I’m going to the hardware store,” Max said. “I need to get my perimeter defense system up and running. You wanna go with me?”

  “Hold up. You want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Bree asked.

  Max raised a brow. “Uh, I just want to do some more work on my plans for this place.”

  “I mean,” Bree pressed on, “what do you know about these eruptions of violence and why’re you so willing to stick your head in the sand and try to force me to do the same?”

  “I just don’t think we should be putting ourselves at risk right now. I’m trying to protect my family. I’m trying to protect you.” Max shifted and rubbed his hand on his stubbled chin.

  “That’s what I want to do. What if the same thing happens to someone in the family? To Jason? If previously stable people are wigging out, how do we know Jason won’t be more vulnerable to whatever is causing this? I don’t get it, Max. I thought you’d be with me on this. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. What the hell happened to you?”

  “You know I can’t talk about that. And you need to stop asking.”

  “I know your unit was beyond top secret. But, I seem to remember you hiring Scarecrow and me a couple of times. You trusted me then. Why can’t you trust me now?” Bree hoped this tactic might get him to open up. He’d contracted with her security agency a few times to complete ops here in the States because the Posse Comitatus Act restricted US armed forces from acting on US soil. “Besides, you’re protecting secrets for a government that doesn’t even exist anymore.”

  “That just might be a good thing.” Max walked out the door.

  “You can’t say something like that and just leave. Max, get back here!” Bree yelled after him. When his truck rumbled away, she slammed her coffee cup on the table. Her muscles tightened as a spark of fear threatened to ignite in her gut. “What the hell did he mean by that? Fan-fucking-tastic, now I’m talking to myself.” With a sharp exhale, she shook her head to clear her mind. At least she wouldn’t have to make up an excuse about why she didn’t want to go with him. She was free now to do some investigating.

  Feeling better after the ride into town and a visit with Summer and Jase at the coffee shop, Bree headed to see Mr. Sholtz, Ms. Worton’s husband. A gentle breeze tickled the back of her neck as she stood on the porch. A coffee carrier in one hand and a bag of muffins in the other, she used her boot to knock on the door. Intrusive thoughts about Ms. Worton - and others - in the Kusharian stasis chambers filled her head. Were they still conscious? Did they miss their loved ones? Bree shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a freakish pod on some space ship. The Kusharians insisted that it was more humane than being held in overcrowded, overburdened prisons. She found that hard to believe.

  The door creaked open, bringing Bree’s attention back to her current mission.

  “Bree?” Mr. Scholtz squinted against the daylight streaming through the cracked door.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Mr. Scholtz. Hi. Um, I stopped by to tell you how sorry I am about Ms. Worton.” Bree tried to emulate a look of sympathy she’d seen Scarecrow use, but, given her track record, she probably looked more like she was about to vomit or punch him in the face. According to Scarecrow, no matter her intent she typically looked pissed off.

  “Oh, okay. Thanks,” he said, his tone flat despite the hoarseness of a voice not used recently. He started to shut the door.

  “Wait. Can I come in?” Crap. She needed Scarecrow’s finesse here. Or even Jason’s. “Um… I brought you something to eat and a coffee from Red Rock. I thought maybe we could talk for a bit.” She planted her feet to keep from either pushing her way in or taking off.

  “Okay. I guess.” Mr. Scholtz turned and headed back into his living room, leaving the door cracked.

  Bree exhaled and pushed the door open with her shoulder. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness inside. He had all the curtains drawn and lights off. He looked rough - greasy, uncombed hair, significant stubble, old sweat pants, and a stained tee-shirt. He plopped down into his recliner in front of the TV.

  A few steps in and Bree slammed into a rank odor. She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard, willing herself forward despite the urge to run for fresh air. Not sure whether the smell came from Mr. Scholtz or the old food and trash strewn about the living room; probably a combination. Taking small breaths through her mouth, she pushed some empty cans out of the way so she could sit on a corner of the couch. She closed the lid on a half-eaten pizza, stacked it on the debris on the coffee table, and placed the coffee and bag of
muffins on the table next to his chair.

  “Uh. How are you holding up?” Bree asked.

  The disheveled man took a sip of the coffee, staring at Bree. Or maybe through her.

  “I don’t know how you like your coffee. I hope black is ok.”

  What the fuck should one say in a situation like this? Sorry your wife went off the rails and got k-snagged. How do you think your wife likes her new alien cocoon? Sorry the aliens have your wife and you are gonna live the rest of your poor pathetic life without her.

  Well, at least she knew what not to say.

  “It’s fine. Thanks.” He grabbed the bag and pulled out a muffin.

  “It’s blueberry. They make great muffins.” Bree gave him a small smile and Mr. Scholtz nodded in return.

  Her former basketball coach shoved half the muffin in his mouth, chewed a few times and washed the mouthful down with some coffee. He shoved the other half in and repeated the process. Crumbs stuck to his stubble and fell to his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

  Neither of them spoke as he ate another muffin and Bree sipped her coffee.

  “Jason told me you think Ms. Worton was poisoned. Why do you think that?” Bree blurted out to keep the silence that’d filled the room from crushing her.

  Mr. Scholtz sat up straighter. His eyes grew wide. “You believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.” Bree never realized before how difficult it was to mouth breathe and talk at the same time. “But I think there’s something weird going on and I want to figure out what it is.” Breathe. “I was hoping you could help.” Breathe.

  He sat up straighter and looked directly at Bree. “Nobody believes me. They won’t even listen to me.”

  “I’m listening. How ‘bout you start at the beginning.” Bree took the lid off her coffee cup, leaned forward, and rested her elbows on her knees, bringing her nose closer to the cup to allow the smell of coffee to mask the stench around her.

  “Okay.” Mr. Scholtz finished another muffin with a swallow of coffee. “Well, everything seemed normal on the weekend. On Monday, Jackie took the dog for a walk. She usually walks him in the morning and I take him out in the evening. Anyway, she got back and was in a great mood. I mean, a really great mood. We… uh.” He smiled and shifted in his chair. “Let’s just say we had some fun together.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Uh, yeah. Gotcha.” Bree put her hand up in the air to stop him from going on. “You can skip those details. Please.”

  “So, afterward, we were out back gardening. Next thing I know she’s yelling at the dog. That dog is her baby. She’s never yelled at him. Not once. I asked her what was wrong and she told me to shut the hell up.” His eyes grew wider and he started talking faster. “I rushed over to her. I knew something was wrong. By the time I reached her she was standing over the dog with a shovel in her hand and a creepy blank look on her face. I asked if she was okay. She looked at me and smiled and kissed me. I made her sit down and drink some water. A few minutes later she was back to normal, but she didn’t remember yelling at the dog or me.” He shook his head and his chin dropped.

  “Did she have any other memory lapses? Or a temper problem?” Bree asked.

  “No. I’m telling you this was totally out of character. We’ve been together for twenty-two years and I’ve never seen her act this way. She’s one of the most balanced people I’ve ever known. Come on, you know her too.”

  “Do you think maybe she was sick?”

  Mr. Scholtz glared at Bree. “I thought you would be different. Damn it. I’m telling you she was fine. Probably healthier than you and me put together. She took the dog out and when she came back something was wrong with her. If you don’t believe me then get the hell out of here.” His jaw tensed and he clenched his left hand into a fist.

  “Settle down. I’m sorry. I’m just gathering information. It’s not that I doubt you, I want all the information I can get.” Bree sat up and put a hand out in a gesture to keep him from getting up. ”Please, I’m here to help.”

  Mr. Scholtz sat back again and drew in a deep breath. He ran his fingers through his dirty hair, causing it to stick out in several directions at once. Bree pitied him. He looked lost without his wife. “I shouldn’t have let her go to the store. It’s my fault, isn’t it? She told me she was fine, but I should’ve taken her to the doctor or something.” His voice cracked and his lip quivered.

  “Hell no! Don’t blame yourself. It’s the damn Instant Karma System and the fucking Kusharians.” Bree’s face warmed and she grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss at you, but I don’t want you to take the guilt for this.” Hoping to keep him from crying, she pulled her shoulders back and pressed on. “How did Ms. Worton feel about Instant Karma?”

  After another gulp of coffee, his lips stopped quivering. His eyes locked with Bree’s. “We both felt the same about it. Shocked at first, like everyone else. Disappointed that our government - or the EUC, or whoever - kept us in the dark. However, we’re happy that violent crime is plummeting and there’re no more wars. That’s all good. We’ve tried to carry on as usual.”

  “Do you think that maybe the idea of being watched twenty-four-seven got to her? Too much pressure or something?” Bree asked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “To be honest, it hadn’t really changed our day-to-day life much. I know it’s drastically changed the world. Christ, our first confirmation of intelligent life out in the universe is that they’re here. They’ve been here. And, they’ve turned our world upside down. That’s a lot to take in. But, here in Sedona life hasn’t been a whole lot different for us. We’re good people and we’ve always tried to be kind and do good things. We both figured that if we continued to be ourselves, we’d be okay.” His voice trailed off.

  “Do you know what set her off at Basha’s? Did anyone tell you?”

  “The kid who helped her out with the groceries said that one minute things were fine and the next she started yelling at him to be careful with the bags and to hurry up. He got a bit nervous because he’d never seen her act like that. Suddenly, she picked up the tire iron from her trunk and swung it at him.” Mr. Scholtz closed his eyes. His chest heaved with grief.

  “That’s ok. I can guess the rest. The KGs popped in, grabbed her, and popped out.” Bree stood up and walked to the window, stepping over trash on the way. Staring out, she tapped her fingers on the window frame as she processed everything.

  This information didn’t fit with her initial idea that humans were exploding like unvented pressure cookers because they were under constant monitoring and scrutiny. Of course, Jason’s stories of the blissed out people didn’t fit that theory either. Definitely some crazy shit going on and she planned to get to the bottom of it. She needed to work fast, before anyone else got k-snagged for some random outburst.

  Bree turned around and absentmindedly took a deep breath through her nose. She didn’t gag. Definitely a sign she’d been there too long and had begun to acclimate to the odor. “Can you tell me anything about the Sidwells?”

  “It’s tragic. Cody was a good kid.” Mr. Scholtz shook his head. “He just freaked out, grabbed a butcher knife, and stabbed Susan, his mother. The Karma Guards popped in and Hank jumped them trying to protect his son.”

  “Jason said Cody shot his mom.”

  “No, he stabbed her. At least, that’s what Casey said. Poor girl. She’s in shock. I think Cody and Jackie were both poisoned. Something’s wrong.” Mr. Schultz’s eyes welled up.

  Maybe she’d pushed him too far. “Mr. Scholtz, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

  “Just tell me you believe me, and that you’ll help.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Bree’s motorcycle roared down Highway 89-A. The rumble of the bike relaxed her enough that she could think more clearly. Her talk with Mr. Scholtz validated her gut feeling that something or someone was causing these eruptions of violence and bliss. She wanted answers. She n
eeded to figure how and why this was happening.

  Bree turned on Roadrunner Drive and pulled into the Sedona Police Department parking lot. The KGs hadn’t assumed responsibility for minor crimes and traffic violations - at least not yet. Police stations still existed for those purposes, but they ran on a light crew. Most of the higher ranking officers and detectives lost their jobs, leaving the lower paid rookies and beat cops to handle things.

  “Hi. Can I help you?” A young woman said from behind the desk.

  “Oh, uh, sure. Jackson here to see Mateo Diaz.” Bree reached for her security agent license. Anger flushed hot when she realized she no longer carried the obsolete ID.

  “Mr. Diaz is currently in lockup.”

  “Yea, I know exactly where Mr. Diaz is. In fact, that’s why I’m here to see him.” Numbskull, Bree added to herself. “Chief Sloan sent me, so could you please let me back to talk with Mr. Diaz?”

  The kid’s eyes grew to saucer size at the mention of the ex-chief. “Chief Sloan. I mean, Mr. Sloan said that no one except somebody named…” she shuffled through some papers and then found what she was looking for. “No one except Sabrina Jackson can see the prisoner.” She pulled her shoulders back, clearly proud of herself.

  Wow. They were really scraping the bottom of the barrel here. “Look, kid, I am Sabrina Jackson and I need you to let me back to see Mateo before I come over this desk and…” Bree stopped herself. Threatening this poor idiot wouldn’t get her back there any faster. “Oh hell, just give me a damn basket for my belongings.” She took her gun out of her thigh holster and the knife out of the sheath strapped just above her ankle. The kid looked like a deer caught in headlights, and handed Bree the basket with trembling hands. Bree placed her weapons, keys, and cell phone in the basket.

  Probably a good thing this kid could count on the KGs in case of any violent behavior. She’d likely wet herself if a little old lady yelled at her.

  “Hey. How you holding up, Mateo?” Bree spoke loud enough to wake up the slumbering giant.