“I would love some water, if you don’t mind.” He glanced at the blonde with a look she did not get often. He was not in the least interested in her, not even a little hint of desire behind his eyes, which made her try even harder. Kreios was an old man, but he did not appear a day over thirty-five.
“Right away, sir. Where are you going, if you don’t mind my asking?” She batted her lashes and bent down a little too far as she reached for a bottle of spring water. She was wearing a white button up top, the standard for this airline, and a black, knee-length skirt. She chose to wear a size too small, and Kreios knew from her looks and the way she carried herself that she was used to being flirted with.
“New York. I have some property I have to pick up from a friend.” Kreios could see if he did not play the part, this woman would hound him the entire trip asking questions, and the last thing he wanted was to have to answer any more questions.
“I see you have no wedding ring. Are you a single woman, or am I barking up the wrong tree?” He touched her arm and looked into her eyes with the skill of many years of studying the art of seduction.
“I am. I have a boyfriend, though, back home in Quincy.” Her answer was not convincing and he could see she was a little disappointed that the game was not going as she hoped.
“Well, I was asking because I have this friend, he is such a good guy, a little misguided and not much into… well you know how it is, these men nowadays love to play video games, and real people are not really in their reality.”
Her eyes grew dark, and the smile faded into the fake one she reserved for people that she didn’t really want to know or talk to. Kreios smiled and pulled out a pen. “Do you mind if I give him your number?” He wanted to laugh and put her out of her misery, but he knew this was the only way to keep her from pestering him.
“I, uh… Well I don’t think that would be a good idea. I do have a boyfriend, so I think he might be mad if I gave out my number to just any stranger. You understand? More water?” She offered him the bottle, and he took it with a disappointed frown.
“Oh, I am sorry. I thought it would be a good match, you are so pretty and all. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” Kreios took the bottle and the blonde moved on muttering to herself. Kreios took a sip, lay back in his seat, and closed his eyes. He thought about the book and hoped he would not have any trouble with Kirk and Mark. He was looking forward to meeting both men, especially Mark Appleton.
***
Mooch moved down the back alley in between the hospital and the tall, brick building next door. He found a jacket on his way out and took it to cover up his ugly baby-blue hospital gown. He was barefoot and hungry—man, was he hungry.
Looking around as he came to the street, he hailed a cab and got in. The cabbie was a scruffy man much like Mooch, in a way. Skinny and covered with hair on his face, neck and all over his head like tangles of soft wire. Mooch told him the address of his house, and the driver started the meter.
How are you going to pay for the cab ride?
Mooch could hear his own thoughts, but he knew that these thoughts were not his own but of the thing that was inside of him. He didn’t mind, in fact, it made him feel good. More than good—great. As if he was powerful, as if he was in costume and could do anything.
As he pondered his dilemma, a brilliant idea struck him. “Driver, can you pull around the block? I can get out here if that works for you.” The cab driver nodded and pulled into a deserted alley. Mooch could see it all in his mind— the way the alley was hidden from the street, and the way it was dark and closed in on the end. Like in a movie he once saw, he reached for the thin drawstring that was looped around his waist. It was supposed to help to keep the back of his gown closed, but it failed the job in every way.
Pulling it free he wound each end around his wrists, and in seconds, had it around the driver’s neck. He yanked back, braced his feet on the back of the seat, and used all his body weight to strangle the cabbie.
The driver gagged and clawed at the noose around his neck as he hit the gas. The cab lurched forward and began to gain speed. Mooch pulled tighter, and he could see the driver’s face in the rearview mirror. What a sight, he was so red, and his face was wrenching like nothing he had ever seen. Good, keep it tight. Now brace yourself!
Looking up, Mooch saw a brick wall looming ahead and a moment later, the cab plowed into the wall at thirty miles per hour. The force drove the cab driver forward, and as Mooch pulled back on the makeshift noose, the cab drivers windpipe collapsed and he was dead before the last piece of glass fell to the pavement.
Mooch was breathing hard, and after a full minute, he released his hold on the drawstring. He got out, walked around to the driver’s side, and opened the door. Somehow, the front of the car didn’t have much damage. The cabbie had a bright red line across his throat, and his eyes bulged in horror. Mooch pulled the man from his seat, got in, and backed up. He needed a ride, and this cab would be just the ticket. He looked similar to the cabbie, and nothing blended in better than a yellow cab in New York City.
Mooch pulled out of the alley, merged with the slow moving traffic, and headed for his house, well not his house, but his good-for-nothing Mom’s house. He looked at his hands and noticed that they were shaking. He had never killed anyone before, and the feeling was… it was—wonderful, the best feeling ever. Having the power to end a life was something only God should have the power to do, and now he felt like he understood God a little more because of his connection with him. He, just like God, decided to kill, and now he was not just another nobody. He was somebody.
“I am coming for you, little Kirky. I am going to kill you and show you what it is like to suffer, to be the butt of all the jokes.” Mooch drove on and knew that this was the start to a new life—a better life.
***
The sky was dark. Thick, low-hanging clouds covered the moon, and a chill saturated the air. I could feel pure evil run through my mind as I looked out through the eyes of the worst madman this world had seen in a long time. He was dead, but here in my dreams, he lived, and the thought gave me the creeps. Could he somehow come back through me or maybe cross over to this life through this weird experience? I didn’t know, but the idea still made me shiver.
I was in his penthouse, sometime before his doom. He, or rather I, looked around as I became him. I looked down at my watch and at the date. It was a month before the encounter in which he died, and I changed forever.
The phone rang in my pocket, so I picked it up and answered. “Hello?” My voice sounded strange in my ears and I was speaking Russian. I never learned Russian nor did I understand the language, yet here I was, speaking it and understanding just fine. This glimpse stuff had some cool things going on. I made a mental note to think about this further, and maybe do some more research.
“We have the virus formulated and the antidote ready. We are prepared to show you a demonstration, sir, whenever you are ready.” The voice on the other end was from an older man, and by his tone I could tell that he was scared.
“I will come by this afternoon. This better be right, or I will not show your family any more mercy.” I was not the one talking, but I was somehow along for the ride. It was a weird sensation.
Taras shut the phone and took the elevator down to a parking garage. Waiting for him was a black Mercedes with a driver who didn’t say one word, but just opened the door for his boss and pulled the car out onto the overcrowded streets. After an hour, the car pulled in an underground garage and parked. Taras got out and walked to an elevator. From the looks of the building and the number of floors, I figured this was some sort of industrial complex.
Five floors and we ended up on the second. A man in his late fifties wearing a white lab coat met Taras. His hands shook as he spoke. “Welcome back, sir,” His Russian was good. He was from the old country—I don’t know how I knew this, but I did.
“Show me the virus.” Taras’s mind raced with images of what he wanted to do to t
his doctor, and it made me want to gag. I wished I could close my eyes or turn off this sick freak’s mind. How could a person get to this point? He was so filled with hate and violence.
The man… what was his name? I searched Taras’s memory but came up empty.
Taras followed the man in the lab coat through a set of steel double doors and into a wide-open room. The place was clean and housed tables and equipment. Test tubes, burners, and other such devices covered all the open counter space. Two other men worked with their heads down, and I could feel their fear as well.
“The human trial worked better than we expected, the subject is in his first week of exposure and is showing signs of extreme decomposition.” Taras looked through a window on the far end of the room into a small white cube that revealed one bed with a man strapped in and hooked up to tubes and machines.
My heart sank.
“What are his symptoms?” Taras was all business and from his thought pattern, he had no feelings toward the man they had kidnapped for this trial. “When will he die?”
“Fever, rashes, boils, elevated heart rate, labored breathing—”
“When will he die?”
The lab coat shook his head and said. “Three days, maybe four.” He looked at the ground and shifted his feet. “I was hoping to use the antidote and see if we could save him.”
“No, we wait until he is knocking on death’s door… and even then I will have to see.” Taras did not intend to give the antidote to anyone. It was his way of giving the man a false hope. Taras wanted to give the impression that he was trying to save people, not unleash a virus on his own people. All he wanted the antidote for was himself.
“But—”
“But? How much do you have? I told you to only make enough for one person. All we need to do is know that we have the capabilities to manufacture an antidote, and set the price. The government will pay us anything to mass produce the stuff once I…” Taras slipped… the great Taras slipped, and the look on the lab coat’s face showed a mix of fear and anger.
The lab coat lowered his eyes and said in a tense voice. “This is not for you to use as your little play thing, this is so we can create an antidote for what may come. I have no intention of letting you kill anyone else with this… this virus!”
The heat in my head boiled, and I saw my hand come up so fast that I didn’t have time to even think of what was happening. The gun in my hand jerked, and the face of the old man had that look of shock and deadness all at the same time.
A small circle of blood formed on his forehead and his knees buckled. The back of his head was gone, and as he hit the floor, the two other men stood up from their chairs and scrambled like drowning rats.
“No!” I screamed in his head, all the time knowing that I was a passenger and had no control. Taras was dead and this was just a memory I had somehow entered into.
“Stop!” The command worked on one of the men, but the other one ran for the door. A red spot formed on the man’s back, and he fell as Taras squeezed the trigger and sent a .22 caliber bullet through his spine. It was a great shot, the guy had to be fifty feet from where Taras stood, and he was running. I chided myself for taking note of the shot, but I was, after all, a killer myself.
“If you value your life, you will not move.” The man who stood frozen with his hands up in the air in the surrender position turned to face Taras.
“Please don’t shoot, I have a family…”
“What makes you think I care if you have a family? Where is the virus, how much do you have?” The man wiped a hand across his brow, and his thick, black hair clung to his skull laced with sweat.
“Over here, in the storage room, it has to be incubated below zero. We have a special freezer set up to keep it cold.”
“What happens if it thaws out?” Taras asked.
The man looked around and, as if unsure of himself, said. “It becomes airborne and will activate. Once active, it will become transferable in four to six hours.”
“Transferable?” Taras moved closer and stopped just a few feet from where the trembling man stood. He smiled as he smelled the urine in the air.
“Lethal. It will pass from one host to another, and anyone in the area of impact will become infected. It has a short shelf life once airborne, but it can spread fast.”
“And the antidote?”
“We have just one injection, just like you wanted.” The man relaxed a little, and Taras nodded.
“Good, please show me the storage room.”
“Yes, sir, right this way.” Taras took a few steps and looked down at the man who lay face down in a growing pool of blood. His heart jumped a beat, and I could sense that this site made him happy… almost euphoric.
The dark-haired man entered a combination to the freezer door and opened the five-by-five box. Inside were three vials with a clear liquid in them. “And where is the antidote?”
“Over here,” He pointed to a small glass case, and inside was a syringe filled with a red liquid on one end and a dark black liquid on the other end. “The two will mix as you inject the subject. It should work in less than an hour—I mean it will work...” The man stuttered, and the sound of a gunshot relieved him of any future stuttering problems. Taras watched him as he fell to the floor. He put two more rounds in his head just for the fun of it.
“Thank you for your service.” He grunted and returned his weapon to its holster just inside his coat. He placed two of the vials in the cooler and shut the lid. He grabbed the last vial, tossed it across the room, and smiled as it shattered against the far wall.
I needed to find out what he did with the antidote. I could feel the dream slipping, but I held on, forcing myself to stay under just for a moment longer. The sound of a clock ticked, and I could now feel a faint breathing motion as I slept. Then all at once, the glimpse vanished, and I was awake.
CHAPTER 6
KIRK STOOD ON THE brink of madness. He hated to be tied down, and this situation was making him go stir crazy. The hospital was sealed up tight, and Isis seemed to be stable, but she wasn’t getting better. Kirk paced the hallway and walked up and down the stairs as he thought through his options.
He hated Mark and his involvement with the WJA, and he hated even more the man who was responsible for Isis’s condition. You better pull through, Mark. He didn’t want to think about it, and sitting here made him feel worthless.
Isis was asleep when he stuck his head in her room and sighed. “I know I’ve no right to be talking to you or anything,” Kirk looked up and his eyes burned with tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he prayed, really prayed, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. “Please, God, I know you have the power to take or give life. I love her so much I can’t even tell you. Good things don’t come my way that often, and I beg you, please help her…” He paused and said, “Thanks.”
Kirk wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, turned, and walked down to the elevators. He made his way to the cafeteria and bought a coffee and a bagel. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket; he had turned down the ringer because he was not supposed to use it in the hospital.
“Hello.”
“Kirk—Mark. I found something.” Mark sounded exhausted.
“Did you find the antidote? Tell me what you found!” Kirk’s hands trembled, and he had the phone pushed up to his ear hard so as not to miss one word.
“Calm down, I am doing the best I can. Remember that I have known Isis longer then you and care deeply for her. We’re on the same side.” Mark’s voice was strained, and Kirk took a deep breath.
“Sorry, it’s just that I… what did you find out?” He wanted to say he loved her but couldn’t get the words past his lips, not to anyone but him and her… and maybe God.
“I got in his head, it was creepy.”
“What do you mean, ‘his head’?”
“I dreamed… I concentrated and got into a memory inside of Taras’s head.”
“How is that possible?”<
br />
“I don’t know… I know he is dead, but somehow I was able to see into the past…”
“Okay, so what happened?” Kirk didn’t know if he believed it, but he would take anything right now.
“Taras created the virus by blackmailing some physicists, and he ended up with two vials. One at the WJA building and the other one… I don’t know. He made one injection of the antidote for himself, and then he killed everyone… it was horrible.”
“Where is the antidote?” Kirk held his breath.
“I don’t know, I lost the glimpse… but he took it with him, so it has to be somewhere in his penthouse or maybe in—”
“—the penthouse? The place is a bombsite. Whatever was there is long gone! You have to go back in his head… you have to find it.” Kirk spilled his coffee as he stood up. The dark liquid ran across the table and dripped onto the cold, tile floor.
“I know, Kirk, but it doesn’t work like that. I can’t just go in and pick a spot. This was a one-time thing, I don’t even know how I did it.”
“We have to do something, she’s dying! Do you understand that?” Kirk could feel the anger begin to rise to the surface, and the sting of more tears crept into his eyes and voice.
“I know… I am going over to his place, and I will search everything that is there. Maybe on another floor… or in a safe—safes are fireproof.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t, you’re trapped in that hospital. Besides, you need to stay with Isis.” Kirk hung up the phone and sat down. He had to think, had to find a way out of this place. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. He had to do something.
***
A bright LCD screen glowed in the dark room as Mooch took in the feeling of the color and light as it caressed his face. It was just him and his computers, and of course, a box of hot pizza—pepperoni and black olives.
He had four monitors set up in a semicircle and one master keypad, one of the new ones that could roll up and looked more like a thin plastic placemat than a keyboard. Mooch stopped by one of his favorite computer geek places and took what he wanted. The shop was closed, so no one had to die. He found the secret room that he knew existed from the many times he had been in the business in the past. He always wanted to go down there and check it out, but the storeowner wouldn’t let anyone in that room.
IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3) Page 4
