Chimera (The Weaver Series Book 1)

by Vaun Murphrey

  “You know I’m doing what I can.”

  Gerome’s expression was resigned and resolute. He patted the door twice then walked away. As soon as we were clear, Malcolm gunned the engine and went through the gates onto a tiny dirt road that seemed to stretch off into the horizon. The Suburban was kicking up mud into the undercarriage with loud pings. The ride was not smooth. We all jostled against one another as the uneven dirt track rocked the vehicle side to side.

  If the road had been dry, it would have been like riding on a washboard. I imagined the dirt cloud any car kicked up would be visible for miles. We rode for about fifteen minutes before the fields on either side of the road started to look tended for agriculture.

  Looking out the window at the tilled rows of earth was almost mesmerizing, so when the engine shifted to a lower gear, and the Suburban slowed I was surprised. A police sat on the side of the road facing the compound. The officer inside picked up his radio as we passed. Some uneasy eye contact occurred.

  Kara’s curiosity got the better of her. “What was that about?”

  Malcolm frowned at Kara for a second then answered, “Don’t know yet.”

  I kept my peace and Silver decided now would be a good time to plead her case.

  “You’re right, I did lie about Father. When I found out about his former life, I did tell you, and you were so upset about the memories I took them away. At least one of us needs to love Father for who he was with us, without any of the ugliness of his past. Cassandra, Declan did terrible, awful things before loving Rebecca turned him from the Warp Faction. Do you want to know?”

  “I know I want the choice, Silver. I know I can’t keep finding out as we go along, and at the moment of desperate need, some new thing you’ve kept from me or this partnership isn’t going to work. We have to trust one another. No more lies. We’ll finish this conversation later. Let me be for a while.”

  Silver didn’t respond, but I felt the pressure of her presence in my mind fade. I was getting better at sensing when she was around.

  About a mile after the first patrol unit, there was another. This time, the uniformed law officer was outside the car with crossed arms leaning against the front bumper.

  Malcolm slowed to a rolling stop and slammed the Suburban into park. He turned to us and said, “Stay inside, I’ll be right back.”

  The driver’s side door opened with a metal screech as he got out then slammed the heavy door closed. The police officer stood from his relaxed position and began to walk toward Malcolm. He had hair that was turning prematurely gray, and his face was slightly tan with deep-set wrinkles.

  As they drew even with one another in front of the Suburban’s hood both men broke out in smiles and clapped each other on the shoulder. They began to talk in earnest. Neither Kara nor I could hear anything over the idling engine. After a final shoulder smack and a handshake, Malcolm folded his long frame into the driver’s seat.

  As I watched, the patrolman returned to his unit. I asked, “Officer Walters?”

  “Yup.”

  Kara sighed in exasperation. “So are you going to tell us why they’ve got the compound under surveillance?”

  “Nope.”

  I made sympathetic eyes at Kara as Malcolm put the growling beast that was our transportation in drive and gently pushed the gas pedal so mud wouldn’t fly all over the place.

  Once we were on our way again driving through more flat farmland, I asked, “So can I venture a question unrelated to politics or security?”

  Malcolm huffed a short laugh. “You can, doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer.”

  I ignored his sarcasm. “So how does the compound, actually any Weaver compound, support itself if they’ve become so opposed to Outsiders?”

  I could tell my question wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

  “Well, it depends on their location and the local economy,” he answered. “The Council shares information from all around the world, so one of the things we deal in is knowledge. The internet made it easier for Weavers to conduct business with the least amount of physical contact, but we also own land here and there.”

  He motioned a hand at the surrounding farmland. “All of this is owned by the Council and leased out to local farmers to work. The compound gets a cut of the profit from the crops.”

  A road sign was approaching in the distance for a paved farm-to-market road that intersected this small mud track we were traveling on. A huge semi hauling livestock roared past. Malcolm put on his left turn signal and pulled out onto the narrow two-lane highway. As we sped up the mud from the tires made a racket as it was flung off by centrifugal force.

  The cab heated up because the sun was shining so brightly through the windows. I shrugged off my jacket and pushed it down to my hips. Kara looked like she might be cold, so I leaned forward pulling the coat from behind my back and held it out to her. She smiled in gratitude and draped it over her shoulders like a blanket across her front.

  The landscape slowly changed from flat farmland with occasional distant tree-ringed houses to a scattering of businesses that catered to farmers. We passed a cotton gin first, and then a tractor supply store, and a lonely used car dealership. I knew we were getting closer to civilization as the traffic picked up. Signs next to the road advertised different businesses, restaurants, and gas stations.

  Malcolm hit his blinker and turned into the parking lot of a chain fast food joint. He pulled up behind another car to wait in line. I fished around in my coat pocket on Kara’s lap and found the cash Gerome had handed me, then held it out to Malcolm, who plucked a twenty dollar bill out of my hand.

  “What do you girls want?”

  I raised eyebrows to Kara for a suggestion.

  She smiled back. “I’ll order for us. Trust me.” To our driver she said, “Two sausage biscuits, two hash browns, and two small Cokes.”

  As the other car in front of us pulled forward, Malcolm moved up even with a speaker and a loud crackling female voice came out.

  “Can I take your order?”

  Malcolm yelled over the engine noise, and the girl on the other end seemed to be able to make it out because it appeared on a screen with a total owed. As we rolled to the first window, a young girl with headphones extended a hand to receive Malcolm’s cash. The girl wasn’t paying attention until she saw how big the hand was that passed over the payment and then her eyes widened as she looked at his face.

  Malcolm continued to hold out his empty hand, and the girl continued to stare until finally he said in his deep baritone, “Change?”

  That snapped the girl out of it; her face almost matched the fire engine red of her fingernails. She got change from the register and passed it over. We pulled forward to the next window and another employee, this time, a young Hispanic man with a manager tag on his pocket, gave us our bag of food and the drinks. Malcolm shoved it all at me. Kara kept me from being overwhelmed and moved the food bag to her lap.

  Malcolm put us into traffic on the main road again. Kara dug around, unwrapped a sandwich enough for Malcolm to eat it, and handed it his way. I shoved the sodas in between my thighs and accepted the sausage biscuit Kara gave me. It was warm and delicious, and I finished it in about thirty seconds making a crumbly mess in my lap that spread over onto the bench seat encroaching on my fellow passengers.

  Kara laughed with her mouth full of food and issued a muffled, “Hungry?”

  She produced a paper pocket with grease spots and fried potato. The smell made my stomach turn, so I shook my head and reached down to drink some of my soda. The soft drink was too sweet, and the carbonation almost felt like it bubbled into my sinuses.

  I realized I had forgotten to take my blood sugar, but I felt fine. Malcolm continued to eat and drive through town until he crumpled his greasy paper into a ball to throw at Kara’s lap. We got a few strange and curious looks from other cars that passed. I wasn’t sure if that was due to the loudness of the Suburban’s engine or if they were staring at us.


  Malcolm spotted a tan brick building on the right side of the road and turned into its parking lot. On the front window in utilitarian letters, it said U.S. Postal Service. Several small white delivery vehicles were at the slanted curb slots. He grabbed the box with Kara’s blood work from under the front seat then turned to us and said, “Lock the doors while I’m inside and sit tight. I can see you through the front window. Honk the horn if anybody approaches.”

  After he had slammed the driver’s door, I locked it as Kara did the same thing on her side with her elbow.

  “Do you think all this paranoia is warranted?” Kara asked. “I wonder what that cop said and why the heck they have surveillance on the compound.”

  “You’re not paranoid if they are after you. Gerome asked Malcolm to watch out for me. After you tripped the alarms this morning, somebody tried to get in our house. If I had to guess what Officer Walters told Malcolm, I would say it was information on why the compound is suspect for the disappearances Gerome mentioned.”

  Malcolm came out a few minutes later, and I leaned over to unlock his door.

  “So what are we doing next?” prompted Kara.

  Malcolm glanced at her as he backed out of the parking space. “Well, Mighty Mouth, we’ll be visiting the local Bargain-Mart for your people-watching pleasure.”

  Kara cut her eyes and slumped back in the seat to take her last bite of sausage biscuit.

  Malcolm merged with traffic and got over into the left turn lane at the next intersection. When the arrow was green, we went down a long road with a cemetery on one side and a sporting goods store on the other.

  The cemetery grounds looked well-manicured as if any of the dead had a care about weeds. It made me wonder about my parents’ bodies. Did they have a grave somewhere? Were they Jane and John Doe or were they buried under their last alias? Had Gerome claimed their remains and done something with them? He would have felt when his sister disappeared from the Web, wouldn’t he? I couldn’t believe this was the first time it had occurred to me.

  The sprawling cemetery finally ended. Malcolm turned right on a much busier road. As we came even with a huge parking lot that was about a third of the way full, I saw the sprawling blue painted brick warehouse-sized building with ‘Bargain-Mart’ plastered across its front in white letters. Malcolm found a space and we gathered all of our trash. We all got out brushing the remaining crumbs from our breakfast onto the asphalt. Malcolm stuffed our refuse into a bin then grabbed a basket.

  We caught more than a few looks from people exiting as we entered. I had let Kara keep my coat, but it was too small. She had it draped around her shoulders and clasped it closed with her fists from the inside. Malcolm knew his way, so we followed in his wake. Anyone who saw him coming cleared a path without a word. We ended up in the home improvement section looking at exterior lights with motion sensors. Malcolm palmed about four light boxes and set them in the cart carefully.

  An elderly woman with an employee name tag and vest came up the aisle. She looked like she might pass out from the effort of walking. When she got even with our cart, she craned her little head up in Malcolm’s general direction.

  “You find everything alright, sir?” she asked in a little old lady voice.

  Malcolm stretched his lips in a genuinely friendly smile which I wasn’t even sure the older woman could see through her thick eyeglasses.

  “Yes ma’am, I'm done, thank you,” he answered politely.

  She rested her hand on the cart for a moment then looked over at Kara and me, her eyes focusing on us just fine and then she craned her head up at Malcolm with her lips pinched like she’d eaten a lemon.

  “You’re one of those crazies that live out in the boonies, aren’t ya?”

  I don’t think she expected an answer or cared for one.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, marrying girls so young and all. Mend your ways before you burn in Hell, sinner.” Her grip on the cart was white knuckled.

  Kara’s mouth dropped open. I searched Malcolm’s face in an attempt to gauge his reaction to the geriatric woman’s words.

  His full lips were compressed and then he opened his mouth as if to retort but shook his head as he changed his mind. He gently tapped the top of the old woman’s hand for her to let go of the cart.

  She pulled away to spout, “Misfortune pursues the sinner, but prosperity is the reward of the righteous.”

  Malcolm shook his head again and turned our cart toward the main aisle. Kara and I followed in his wake until we were out of the old bat’s hearing.

  I pulled on his arm. “Why didn’t you say something? What was she talking about, marrying young girls? I haven’t seen anything like that at the compound. You should have set her straight.”

  Malcolm looked down at me as he shook off my grip. “When arguing with fools, don't answer their foolish arguments, or you will become as foolish as they are.”

  Frustrated, I shot back, “When arguing with fools, be sure to answer their foolish arguments or they will become wise in their own estimation.”

  Kara inserted in a sharp tone, “Guys, can we have a Bible quotation war in the car? People are staring.”

  Malcolm mumbled something under his breath, and we all headed down the main aisle to the checkout area without further conversation. People were indeed staring at us as we went by.

  When we settled in line, I lowered my voice and asked, “Are things so bad? Why do they think these things about us?”

  Malcolm sighed and pitched his voice in a low rumble. “Some of the local churches believe we 're one of those cults that marry girls young and have multiple wives. It doesn’t make it true, but around here if a pastor says something it’s the gospel.”

  “And I imagine it doesn’t help that the Council insists on holding us apart. It would make it easier for them to concoct new stories without anything rooted in reality to combat the rumors.” I inwardly cursed the shortsighted idiocy of the Weaver leadership.

  Malcolm added with all seriousness, “It also doesn’t help I’m a scary looking black man moseying around with two helpless semi-white girls…this is Texas you know.”

  His grip on the cart increased until I heard the plastic crack.

  Kara flung her arms out, and her usually cheerful face closed down. “That’s some bullshit, what century is this? I can take care of myself.”

  Malcolm snapped, “Language young lady or I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap.”

  From my angle, I could see she was trying not to smile but she couldn’t, so her response was all pouty petulance.

  “Well whatever, it’s stupid.”

  The checkout went without incident, and we made it to the Suburban without any more run-ins. Once we were all buckled in, Malcolm checked his mirrors and pulled out to drive through the parking lot. Great big black birds fought over scattered trash here and there on the asphalt, and the way the light reflected off of their shiny feathers was almost beautiful in a desolate scavenger sort of way. They flew up with raucous squawks any time a car drove by disturbing their feast.

  “We’ve got one more stop, and then we’ll head back,” Malcolm muttered.

  The last place was a mom and pop hardware store that also advertised home security systems. If I had to guess what Malcolm was after, it would be the glass breaks he mentioned earlier this morning. He left us in the car again with instructions to lock the doors and was back in about ten minutes if that.

  The ride back was a silent one. All three of us were off in our own little worlds. Kara was probably thinking about life without her parents, Malcolm about whatever new strategy he and Gerome had going. I, on the other hand, had some decisions to make, and none of them were going to be easy.

  Chapter Eleven: By the Way

  I thought my first decision was going to be to tell Maggie about Silver and me, but I needed a positive way to do it. Should I do it in the Web? Should I tell her right away about Kara? I wasn’t sure how to approach it.

  Th
e Suburban rolled up to the gates, and one of the guards came out of a smaller opening in the fence to inspect the vehicle and visit with Malcolm for a second. After the guard entered the compound again and gave the okay, two other guards went out to unlock and open the gates.

  I asked Malcolm, “Are you guys always on this level of readiness or is this recent?”

  Malcolm looked at me then glanced at Kara. “Later. Hey, Mighty Mouth, where are you supposed to meet James?”

  I pointed out the windshield to a person walking about a hundred yards out. “That him?”

  “Yeah, that’s my brother,” Kara replied. “How come he doesn’t get an annoying nickname?”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Give it time. It’ll happen.”

  Kara looked at me. “I guess I’ll see you later. Here, have your jacket back.”

  She almost looked sad to leave me. She did puppy dog eyes well. I gave her a quick, impulsive hug. The passenger door popped opened, and Kara slid to the ground. As she jogged to her brother, it put me in mind of a fleet-footed, loping gazelle.

  Malcolm nudged me with an elbow. “I need to return this thing to the motor pool and then we can head over to your house to mount the lights on the exterior. You up for that?”

  At my nod he gunned the engine, turning the Suburban to the right and staying at the perimeter of the compound fence. Other tire tracks indicated this was the usual route. I hadn’t seen ruts anywhere else around the buildings and the main roads where people walked. Perhaps it was to keep the vehicles from tearing up the unpaved ground or a safety issue for the children that ran freely playing in the evenings. Malcolm turned left to follow the turn of the fence line, then drove all the way down to the end where there was an enormous area of parked cars and an aluminum building with big bay doors. Malcolm threw the keys on the dash, hopped out of the driver’s seat, and grabbed all of our purchases from town. I only had to carry my bag and coat, so I got off light.