The Fledge Effect (11 page)

In the parking lot of the Amherst PD
Office, she stood beside his car, then tapped his
trunk lid. “Open it,” she commanded.

He turned his head, sighing at his fear
to countermand her. Behind him, four men in
military outfits trotted his way. Each man toted
two black duffle bags.

He clicked the button on his key ring,
popping the trunk lid open.
She had the faintest of smiles, excitedly
rubbing her two palms together. “You going to
ask what’s inside these bags, or why you’re my
new
pack-ass
?”
He shook his head, returning her smile
with a smug expression. He didn’t feel that stupid.
She knew one question would get him
shot. Yet, she raised her brows, testing his level
of respect for his own life.
Confused, he knew a statement would
probably be best. He didn’t doubt her craziness
would somehow use it against him, but despite
her crystal clear rule of zero questions asked, he
shrugged towards her.
“Sure,” he said, matching her usual
cool, unbending tone.
She was taken aback by his ability to
work around her rule. She hummed, willing to
tell him anyhow.
The excitement drilled into her deep
with force. Many things she could not tell him,
but this one thing she could. “What these four,
um, heh, very handsome Seals are carrying,
contain my latest invention of mass destruction.
Well, heh, guns and ammo at least.”
Seals,
he thought, keeping close.
His blank expression said it all. He
knew they were not real Seals. No government,
he believed, of his would be involved in a heinous idea she was fully preparing. He never
doubted her capabilities, but he highly doubted
if her power was well enough to convince an entire militia to follow along.
She unzipped two bags, pointing at
each as she explained. “In this first bag, it contains six guns. Three of each of M6 machine
guns, and .308 rifles. In this second bag are a
hundred rounds of bullet casings waiting to be
filled with the vials containing the CBH virus.”
His face said, “Oh,” but his eyes were
saying, “Hell no.” These many guns made Carlson a bit nervous. He opened his mouth, but
stopped to avoid the inevitable questions that
circled in his mind, and almost slipped out. Instead, he coughed, choking on his words.
“What was that?” Brinks didn’t care
what his objections were. “Never mind. Just try
not to get pulled over.”
He slammed the trunk shut.
She patted his left peck as she sidestepped towards her car. “Maybe red wasn’t
such a smart color choice for a car,” she joked.
She sat back into her seat, pushing her sunglasses up the brim of her nose. “Follow me,”
she demanded.
He nodded, climbing into the driver
seat of his car. He wrapped his fingers around
the sleek, leather steering wheel. His knuckles
turned white from the grip. Staring across to the
field of more guns being tested, sent him in a
mini-trance before Brinks’ horn snapped him
back to reality. He hesitantly pulled out, thinking,
what am I doing here?
The irony of him not being pulled over
in a red car, however, did not make him chuckle
as it had before when his Wife made the same
joke. Maybe, if he wasn’t treated like a dog, and
had the same respect as any other federal agent,
then she would have allowed him to gain access
to a government issued vehicle. But she made it
very clear that she was his boss, and that this
entire situation was not a government issue. It
was all her, only her, and man named
Boss
.
He placed his lapel unit back on him,
and communicator into his ear. He knew this is
what not do with her, but force of habit kept him
on key to continue his ways as a good agent. He
hoped the idea of hers would blow over, and
they could go back to being normal agents. But
the determination in her eyes could slice
through a stone.
Like one person could do it all
with a small group of helpers,
he thought, almost certain she would fail.
•••
Quaint, and now cleared out, Marcel placed his
hands on his hips. He scanned the room; nothing was left to take. The morning glow beamed
off the floor, reflecting around the room. It
seemed to shine without it being cluttered with
trash and papers everywhere.
Emily held a small cardboard box in her
arms. Inside were the seeds and plants of the
Red Fates. She leaned against the doorframe,
sighing. “You ready to go?”
He knew this day was coming, but
didn’t want to come this way. “Ready? No. But,
I must.”
Calista wrapped herself in her hooded
jacket, and sunglasses. Concealing her skin became an objective of hers. She stood next to
Emily, watching Marcel stand like a stone.
Emily heard the sound of echoing footsteps nearing the lab. “Maddie is waiting outside, apparently.”
He lifted his hands out of his lab coat
pockets, patting down the sides of his torso.
“Right then,” he said, shrugging the coat off.
As he reached to shut the door, the
phone rang.
He picked it up. “H-Hello?”
“Doctor Johnston,” Dean Schmick’s
voice sounded on the other end. “Why is there a
band of government militia looking for you?”
“What?” Marcel breathed. He dropped
the receiver, as he heard footsteps clicking
down the hall.
He rushed out, as their mixed shadows
appeared on the floor. He hid around the corner, barely dodging them.
The floor reflected six bodies trotting
into his lab. The door, leading out to the parking
lot, was within a few steps of where he stood. He
froze when he heard Brinks speaking. “Dammit,
they’re gone. The fucking vaccine is gone. Sure,
a few Fledge vials are left behind. But, what
good are they if that damn vaccine gets out into
the public?”
He checked his pants pockets, remembering he did forget the CBH virus inside his
desk drawer. In his mind, he kicked himself in
the ass for that.
“Find him, now!”
No longer frozen in place, he aimed for
the door. The brisk wind temporarily made off
with his breath. Calista and Emily were pacing
their steps. He reached around both of them,
shoving them towards the car. “We have to
leave.”
His breathless antics surged a sense of
worry through them. Calista became frantic at
his expense. “What? Why?” Nerves depleted her
fullness, making her become agitated with hunger.
She fished a Red Fate from Emily’s box.
But the scowl Emily gave her made her place it
back. She soon realized the scowl was just her
staring heavily at the University, and back at
Marcel’s waving arms. She tried to take it back,
but Emily quickly disappeared around the car.
Marcel unlocked the car, and unlatched
his door. “No time to explain, now get in. But,
please, try not to get blood in my backseat.”
Despite the easiness, in how comfortable he felt around her, the rush he felt fluttered
his heart as the red haze of adrenaline made his
heart pulsate inside his eardrums. Like a ticking
time bomb about to go off at any second, he
latched his seatbelt.
He gripped the steering wheel, but the
blood rushed to his face as more suspicious
black vehicles headed towards the University.
He heaved out a breath through pursed lips.
The quickened pace of their tires suggested they were not there to just
talk
.
He stifled a laugh as a line of black
jeep’s pulled in. “Time to go.” The sight pushed
him to drive off, ignoring the speed bumps, and
the following stop sign.
Maybe he not being
Johnny Law
wasn’t
the best idea, but the imminent danger that
posed against them made him not care.
After losing sight of the black vehicles,
Emily held onto the bar above her door. “You
can slow down now! I’m sure we are fine.”
Marcel checked the rearview mirror. He
sighed in relief, as they were not being followed.
“Okay,” he exasperated.
A sweet scent wafted up Calista’s nose
as Marcel switched on the heat. Her nose guided
her to Maddie, who was speedily typing on the
screen of her phone.
Maddie felt a pair of leering eyes on her.
She looked up from her phone, and inched away
from Calista. She didn’t feel comfortable sharing a back seat with someone who is still learning to control her thirst.
However, Calista knew that is not what
she wanted. She clenched her jaw, tapping her
fingers against her knee. She leaned towards
Emily. “Can I have that fruit, there?” She
pointed inside Emily’s box that was on top of
her lap.
She tilted the box, moving her lips as
she counted. “There are four left.”
“Well, I need just one.”
Emily handed her one, with a sigh.
“Save the seed at least. I can grow more that
way.”
“Thank you,” Calista said, snatching the
fruit free from Emily’s fingers.
In her hands, the fruit seemed to have the outside consistency as a water balloon. But once
she bit into the side, it hardened around the two
puncture marks. As she drained it, the fruit resembled an old and rotten apple.
She handed to Emily, who was gagging
at its putrid appearance and stench.
The apartment complex, in which Nick
resided, rolled up the hill within sight. Emily
noticed his car. Its rear end poked out, and
wheels the wheels were pointing the wrong direction in a parallel parking spot. She tossed the
dead fruit into her box, just realizing she dug
her nails into it. She pointed towards the parking space in front of his car. “Marcel, pull into
there.”
Marcel followed her finger, and nodded. “I’m surprised he is here. Back at the lab he
acted like he was going to space or something.”
Emily laughed, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Him?
Space
? Right.” She remembers, one
summer, when they were both fourteen. She
tried to get him to come to Space Camp with
her. But he despises camps. Something about
them freaks him out. She never understood
why, and honestly, she wanted to. She hated not
being able to go. All because he was afraid of losing her forever.
She tapped Marcel’s rolled down window. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’re
coming in to get you. After all, this could be a
trap.”
“A trap?” Emily looked at the entrance,
then back at Marcel. “Why do you think that?”
“Agent Brinks is one person you definitely do not want to get mixed up with. Here,”
he reached into his glove box, and pulled out a
handgun, “take this with you.”
She held the cool steel in her hands,
studying its features, before placing it inside the
hip band of her jeans. She nodded, and then
headed towards the apartment complex’s entrance.
The soles of her shoes stomped up the
three flights of stairs in a quickened pounce. Before turning the corner towards the hall on his
floor, she listened. She brought the gun to her
chest, remembering what she was taught as an
agent, when someone possibly poses a threat.
Footsteps neared her.
She gripped the handle tighter. But
then she heard the steps run off in the direction
they just came from. Slowly, she entered the
hall, holding the .45 down by her side.
Pressing her back against the cool concrete, allowed her to inch slightly towards Nick’s
open door.
He never leaves this open. Something is wrong,
she thought to herself.
After a few moments, she sidestepped
inside the musky-aired apartment.
She pulled her sleeve over her hand,
covering her nose and mouth at the sight of tiny
black busy bodies buzzing around Lucy’s
corpse. The smell of rotting flesh pierced
through her hand, making it nearly unbearable
to be in there. Then, an intoxicating men’s cologne caught her attention.
The smell came from the direction of
the bathroom. She took cautious steps. Noises
came from there. She stood by the door for a few
more moments, waiting to see if anyone will
transpire his or her way out.
When she realized no one was coming,
she lifted her foot and accidently flung Lucy’s
disembodied head down the hall. Her wormfilled skull toppled its way into his bedroom.
A shadow reflected onto the floor in
which she still gazed at. Without thinking, she
whipped the gun up into the air, shooting once.
The bullet landed right into Nick’s upper shoulder, dropping him in place.
He winced in pain. “Ouch! What the
hell, Emily?”
Her eyes widened, and her jaw
dropped. She shook, placing the gun back on
her hip. She met his side, wincing in sympathetic pain. “I… Oh my… I am so sorry. I-I
thought you were someone else!” But, she knew
it didn’t matter what she had to say.
He furrowed his brows in bewilderment, rubbing his shoulder. “What? I live here.
Who else would I be?”
“Well,” Emily stammered, “I’m not
sure.”
He turned back into the bathroom, raising his shirt over his head.
Emily gawked at the amount of muscles
he had. With a lean figure like his, she would
have never guessed he had muscles that ripple
down his abdomen like a series of tiny knolls.
Rock hard, she imagined.
“I… Um, well,” she stuttered, “I just
wanted to check on you.”
He stole a hardened gaze into her deep
somber blue eyes. Softening his expression, he
yanked out the bullet from his shoulder. “See?
No worries here,” he said as the skin around the
bullet hole weaved back together like watching
the fraying of fabric in reverse.
“But, I heard someone running away
from the stairs.”
“That was me. I forgot my coat, on the
way out,” he said, making his way to his room,
lightly brushing his chest against Emily’s ample
bosom. He jumped over the head, and picked a
random shirt off the floor.
“Way out to where?” Emily pressed,
watching him as he slowly pulled the shirt over
his bed head of hair.
“Out of this god forsaken state. Possibly
the country. I don’t know. Just wherever the
West takes me,” he said, passing her once more.
This time he waited by the front door,
swinging his coat around his broad
shoulders. “Now, if you’re done gawking at me, I have somewhere to be.”
Her face flushed with embarrassment,
wanting to defend herself against such a lame
accusation. “I’m newly divorced. I can
gawk
at
whomever I please.”
He chuckled at her half-grinned, unsure-about-herself expression as he left out the
door. “
Goodbye
,
Emily
.”
She bit her lower lip, not wanting him
to leave. But, what choice did she have? Nothing
she
could
do would make him stay. His mind
was made up. As it always has been. When he
wanted something his way, he made it happen.
It made her wonder why she ever left him in the
first place. Other than the drug problem, of
course.