by Mike McCrary
Mr. Madness checks the time.
Hiro hates himself as well, but his self-loathing is for much different reasons. He left a fallen friend behind. Something he should have never allowed to happen. Tinker was in his grasp and he let him slip away.
The memory cuts through him like a knife. His bones ache like he’s been beaten. The searing pain in his shoulder is a constant reminder of what happened. The old woman got a lucky shot on him. At least that’s what he tells himself. Deep down he knows he was the lucky one. If her aim was slightly more true, his head would have been removed from his neck. He also knows they will lock down Tinker, if he’s even still alive. They will squeeze him for every drop of intel he has inside of him.
Hiro tightens his grip on his gun as his hate turns away from himself.
He wants to kill Markus Murphy. He needs to kill him.
Moonlight peeks through the openings that run along the sides of the parking garage. Cuts glowing stalks illuminating only a fraction of the run-down structure. Their feet move as silently as possible through the dirt and slime. Rats scurry. The wind blows a soft whistle outside, mixing in with the other noises of the night.
Mr. Madness can still see his face. Murphy’s face frozen, standing there in the middle of that silly diner among all the other useless sacks of meat and bone. The great Markus Murphy didn’t seem so great. Sitting there like a common fool eating pie with his mother and his doctor. The great one needed his mother to save him.
Mr. Madness can’t help but laugh.
Hiro throws him a look.
Mr. Madness stops fast. A part of him seizes. He bends at the waist, supporting himself by holding his hands on his knees. He coughs hard. It’s as if a cold fist is balling inside his throat. There’s a memory of Mother. Of Murphy’s mother. It’s faint and slippery, but one that has a feeling attached to it. A warm feeling. Mr. Madness screams inside his mind. Begging it to stop.
Brubaker warned him about this.
Hiro cocks his head birdlike watching Mr. Madness seemingly come undone.
Brubaker told Mr. Madness how being face-to-face with Murphy might be problematic. The act of meeting someone who shares a piece of your mind is an insanely odd experience. Even for the strongest of people. Nothing in life would or could prepare you for a moment like it. Mr. Madness needs to be stronger than this. Stronger than he ever imagined. He can’t let some half-baked sentimentality stop him from what he wants. He must not hesitate.
Mr. Madness is his own man.
Markus Murphy is not him, and he refuses to be Markus Murphy.
The memory of Mother intensifies.
He needs to stop this part of his shared mind. Must reset his thinking. Cleanse himself of bad thoughts.
Another memory floods in. This one is his, at least he thinks it is. Feels much different. He’s in the schoolyard. Bullies are teasing him. They’re big and dumb. Pushing him. One slaps him. Calls him a bitch. Mr. Madness remembers the pain actually helped him. He remembers using the pain as a way to change his thinking. To remove himself from himself. The bullies would hurt him, but he’d simply drift away. Inside his mind, at least. They couldn’t harm him if he wasn’t really there.
Mr. Madness punches his thigh with everything he has.
Mother Murphy is still there.
He hits himself again, only harder. It’s not working.
Hiro scans the garage but continues to watch on.
Mr. Madness remembers something else they did to him. He puts his fingers inside his mouth, pinching the meaty muscle under his tongue hard. Mother’s face is still present. He squeezes the meat under his tongue harder and harder. Finding a grip is difficult. His fingers slip, fumbling to take hold.
He digs his nails in.
His eyes begin to water. Probably bleeding. Each time her face smiles inside his head he digs deeper, choking on his own spit mixing with blood. His body trembles as the memory fades. His breathing is heavy yet under control. His mouth pulses with pain.
Hiro scrunches his nose. Can’t help but think this guy is off his rocker.
A light flickers at the other end of the parking garage.
Hiro nudges Mr. Madness with his hip as he aims his gun toward the light.
Mr. Madness gathers himself.
They both move toward the area where the light came from with guns tacking. Ernesto stands near an abandoned van. Rusted, with at least two flat tires. Ernesto is twitchy. Much more nervous than at the house. Hiro takes note. Mr. Madness takes in all of Ernesto’s manic mannerisms. They both watch the doctor’s head make quick turns back and forth as he checks the darkness. His eyes darting left and right.
“Where’s the other one?” Ernesto asks.
“Something happened.” Mr. Madness studies him.
“What? What the hell happened?” Ernesto can barely form a sentence. His teeth gnash. His tongue seems to almost wag. “Okay. Okay. How about Peyton? Where is she? Where is Dr. Peyton?”
“She was shot during the confrontation. I’m not sure where they took—”
“Excuse me, did you say she was shot?” Ernesto’s anxiety reaches a new level. “That was not what we discussed. Not at all. Dead is what—”
“I know what we discussed.” Mr. Madness’s words are cold.
“Murphy was too much for you. Correct? Tell me that’s not the case.”
“That was not the case.” Mr. Madness feels his heartbeat spike again.
“You failed.”
“Stop.” Hiro grabs Ernesto by the throat. “Not what happened.”
Mr. Madness turns his head, thought he heard something move in the darkness. Something in the far corner of the garage. Maybe the homeless guy or a rat, maybe neither. He grips his gun tighter as he studies the dark. The silence creeps back.
Hiro releases Ernesto from his grip.
“What now?” Ernesto coughs out the words. His entire body trembles. “What are we going to do now?”
“Where is Irving?”
Ernesto looks away.
“Where. Is. Agent Irving?”
“He’s gone. I don’t know where he is. He delivered the location of Dr. Peyton and then he vanished.”
“Does the CIA have him?”
Ernesto raises his voice. “I don’t know.” His words echo across the garage. He lowers his voice immediately, terrified by who might be out there. “But it’s a strong possibility.”
“So.” Mr. Madness thinks. “You have no access to anything useful.”
“What?”
“Anything useful.” Mr. Madness raises his gun. “You. You are void of use.”
“I made you.” Ernesto swallows hard. “Let’s not forget that.”
“Still not of use.”
“Your mind is evolving. You’re going to need transitional assistance. Guidance and treatment. There are signs, biological signals, that the procedure might break down over time with you. Both of you. I can help.”
“Doubtful.”
“Do your eyes bleed?”
Mr. Madness stops. Hiro listens.
“They do, don’t they?” Ernesto’s speech speeds up. “It was originally thought that was only a side effect. Temporary discomfort. Something that would stop as the healing progressed. But it might be more than that. Let me run some tests.”
“No.”
Mr. Madness checks Ernesto’s pockets, searching for weapons, credit cards, anything really. He pulls out a half-eaten candy bar along with two phones. Similar to the phones Mr. Madness and Tinker found in their own pockets. The ones that transmitted the time-bomb texts to them. He holds the two phones out in front of Ernesto’s face.
Dr. Ernesto’s eyes pop wide, his face wrapped in confusion. His jaw falls open.
“I don’t know where those came from.” Ernesto fumbles for the words to try and explain.
Words that do not exist.
“No? Nothing to say?” Mr. Madness hands one of the phones to Hiro.
Both phones buzz at the same time. Hiro look
s to Mr. Madness. They check the messages on the screens, then look up to Ernesto.
“What?” Ernesto gasps. “What does it say?”
“In short, it confirms you’re of no use.”
“What? Who sent that?” All the life drains from Ernesto. “It’s from her. Isn’t it?”
“It’s Brubaker.” Mr. Madness can barely contain his excitement.
“That’s not possible. It can’t be—”
“She wants us to kill you.”
Hiro confirms with a nod. They raise their guns.
“No. Wait!” Spit flies from Ernesto’s screaming mouth. “You don’t understand at all—”
Mr. Madness and Hiro open fire. Ernesto’s screams are cut short. His cries still echo, rolling, rippling across the garage as his body flies back, slamming into the rusted van door. Mr. Madness watches his body slide down until it reaches the filthy concrete.
Their phones buzz again.
Their eyes drift down to the screens that cut squares of light in the dark garage. There’s a new message. One that will dissolve soon.
Nice job.
Mr. Madness and Hiro look to one another. Both thinking the same thing. Mr. Madness says it out loud.
“How would Brubaker know—”
“She wouldn’t,” a woman’s voice says.
Mr. Madness and Hiro spin around with guns pointed at the female voice behind them.
“Not Brubaker.” A young, attractive woman with a neon-green lizard tattoo on her neck leans against a concrete pillar. She pulls back the wrapper on a hamburger. “That would be me.”
Mr. Madness squints. Recognition hits him.
“You were at Ernesto’s house.”
“I was. As were both of you.” A smile in her voice. “Well, you, Mr. Madness, you were in the house. And Hiro here was dutifully scanning the perimeter searching for abnormalities.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the abnormality.”
“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” Mr. Madness keeps his gun on her.
Hiro does the same.
“I’m a lot like you.” She’s unfazed by their weapons. “Two minds blended to create a third.”
“You escaped the lab?”
She nods.
“I don’t remember you.” Mr. Madness turns to Hiro. “Do you remember her?”
Hiro shakes his head no.
“You wouldn’t, silly. We never had any contact during that confusing time in our lives.” She pushes her shoulder away from the pillar, moving toward them. Raises her hamburger to show she has no weapons. “It’s not all that important, but I was kept separate from you fellas. Kept with Ernesto.”
“Stop.”
She obeys, tearing off a bite of burger, then bounces her eyebrows as if waiting further orders.
“I don’t understand.” Mr. Madness tries to work it through. “If you’ve been sending the messages…”
“Yes.”
“Do you communicate with Brubaker?”
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together with a sympathetic gaze.
“Hate to be the one to tell you this.” She chews, then swallows.
Mr. Madness feels his heart jump to the back of his throat.
“Brubaker is dead.”
“No.” Mr. Madness almost gags on the word. “That’s not… That’s not possible.”
“It is,” she says, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
Everything inside Mr. Madness shuts down. He lowers his gun, dropping down to his knees. His muscles have given out. Numbness takes over. His eyes see nothing as his thoughts become thick and soft.
“How?” Hiro asks.
“Murphy killed her.”
The numbness leaves as quickly as it came on. Mr. Madness’s mind sharpens. Dull to razor sharp in a snap. Everything inside him ignites, rolling into a raging synaptic bonfire.
“The good news? Want some good news in all this?” She takes a step closer to them, framing herself perfectly under a shaft of moonlight as she tears off another bite of burger.
Hiro nods. Mr. Madness stares back, seething.
“I know how we can hurt him. I know where the people he cares most about are located.”
Mr. Madness rises to his feet. Hiro still has his gun on her.
“Aaaand.” She moves toward Hiro, gently pushing his gun down with her hamburger hand. “I know where to find your good buddy Tinker.”
Hiro can’t hide his smile. The first one in some time.
“Does that interest you boys?”
Mr. Madness gives a single nod.
“Good.” Chewing her burger, she pulls a black tactical blade from behind her back.
Mr. Madness and Hiro take a half-step back with guns raised.
“Don’t worry.” She tears off another burger bite, then flings the wrapper aside. “Need this to cut off Ernesto’s hand.”
They stare back at her.
“Gotta trust me, boys.”
Hiro and Mr. Madness trade looks of absolute confusion.
“Now, listen up, please. This is important. Can’t stress this enough.” She swallows the last of the burger, giving a satisfied sound. “From here on, everything is going to go really, really fast.”
Chapter 26
Murphy stands outside the run-down house while cats wander serpentine between his feet.
A headless plastic doll lies sprawled to his right.
A ketchup-stained hamburger wrapper to his left.
Delightful place, Murphy thinks.
He’d surveyed the area—not much around here to survey—then tightened his focus to a fifty-yard radius around the house. Morgues have more activity than this. Not a lot visible on the outside of the house. There’s been some slight movement of curtains inside. Minimal, could be the heater or a fan, but enough for someone inside to take a peek if they were being cautious. Murphy saw a shadow move from the front windows toward a side room about thirty minutes ago.
This is the location Tinker gave up.
The last place Tinker said he saw Ernesto and Agent Irving. Murphy finds it hard to believe they are still inside this dilapidated domicile. Doesn’t make sense. As smart as they both appear to be, why would they come back here, or stay? Not a smart move. Not one smart people make unless forced. Maybe they had no choice. Maybe Murphy got lucky and arrived before they could make another move. Possible they spotted him and now they are boxed in. Of course, they could be expecting him and are now waiting to pop undesirable holes throughout his body.
One thing is clear, however.
Without question, someone is inside that shitbox of a house.
Murphy reviews what he knows. It’s not much, but he does know Mr. Madness and Hiro are out roaming the country freely. More than likely, they are with Ernesto and Agent Irving or an unsavory combination of the two. Doubtful Mr. Madness and Hiro would separate, but they might. Best bet is that Agent Irving is in there. The little movement Murphy has seen inside matches more of the description of him than Ernesto. The who of who’s inside is easier to piece together, although not completely certain, but it’s the goddamn why of this thing that is way up in the air.
Why trips you up.
Why fills and clouds the strongest of minds.
Why gets you killed.
Murphy had switched out the candy apple red Porsche for a super nondescript CIA car. Just a shade north of blue in color with dark tint and performance tires. It’s an autonomous model with the option to take over the wheel if speed law needs to be broken at the driver’s discretion. Theory being an agent can use the travel time to research, study up, and/or recharge but leaves the possibility to go superhero if needed. So, this vehicle can burn when needed, and is dutifully outfitted for tactical play, but looks as boring as your sibling’s second husband.
He left the Porsche inside the secured garage near the safe house. Told the men in the gray suits that if he found out there were joy rides taken in his car, he’d gut all of them in front of their fami
lies on Christmas Day. He’s not sure he’d actually do it, but they must have read the files on him because they turned a whiter shade of pale after he said it.
Those are the moments that make Murphy smile the most.
Mother is a different story. She thinks most things out of Murphy’s mouth are trash, disregarding his words as they hit the airwaves. To say she was not happy with Murphy’s decision to leave without her is the understatement of the century. There was an avalanche of profanity and personal assaults, but Murphy knows some caring was buried deep in the center of it all. At least he hopes there was some caring in there.
She’s always been fairly brutal with her love.
Mother saw him freeze at the diner. She, more than anyone, knows what happened and what is possible out in the world. A whole lot of horrible, she said. She almost begged him to take her along, but he knew she needed to stay right where she was. Mother doesn’t need his protection. But still, Murphy can’t let anything happen to her. He’s been the cause of too much horrible already.
Needs to cut back where he can.
He told her she needed to stay and look after Peyton. Complete bullshit. Mother saw through it, of course. There was ample medical staff and armed CIA goons at the house that was tricked out to be a CIA fortress. Murphy tried to go with the idea that Peyton needed a friendly face in the crowd, though everyone knows Mother does not qualify. Regardless, Murphy left her at the safe house with Peyton and in the loving arms of the CIA.
She’ll forgive him. Someday. Maybe.
But only if whoever is inside this cat-infested shitbox doesn’t kill him first. Darby had made good on her word. Set him up with the guns and money he requested. Murphy wasn’t sure what he needed, but he’s found that in this jagged mess of a life guns and money never hurt.
More is vastly superior to less.
He was also granted full access to all transportation the CIA has at its disposal. He was given some encrypted cards, and a thick roll of cash for those seedy individuals who still prefer the anonymity of cash. They gave him plenty of ammo for his favorite Glock, along with a Ka-Bar tactical blade, which he has strapped to his person, and a rubber-gripped assault Mossberg he has secured in the trunk.
He’s also been given a handful of injectors with a powerful sedative.