The Last Nukyi: Fear Cosmic Annihilation

by Paul Bagnell

  *****

  After lunch Tom sat alone in McBridle’s vehicle. He knew he was going mad. There were no boundaries between this world and beyond. The mind-crash could occur at any moment. Now he was clinically afraid of what he had become and knew these interdimensional powers would eventually destroy him.

  They returned to Carravecky’s and picked up the information, then headed back to the office. The documentation requested was contained in three sealed storage boxes.

  “Hopefully, something in these files will give us some clues as to exactly what occurred at Carravecky’s,” McBridle said.

  “There’re always clues; they just need to be discovered,” Tom replied; but he knew the information wouldn’t bear any sweet fruit. It was too old and too stale to be of any value, but he went along with her well-spoken act. The powers of the mind-crash had instilled in him a strong sense of curiosity, and he felt that she held a piece of the Carravecky puzzle so he must patiently play her leg-pulling game.

  “I hope you now grasp the politics of big business,” McBridle said. “I figure we have about a week to crack this case. Two days reviewing this information, two days questioning employees, and testing the security; that leaves us with a few days to write a report. Then on the seventh day, we rest.”

  “That’s a pretty intense schedule for just you and me.”

  “Why, are you afraid, no pain no gain?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” he replied, and dummied up.

  The Belk Tower was in full sight; they entered the underground parking.

  “I don’t see your car in the lot today,” she inquired as she pulled around a bend where his car is usually parked. “I’m assuming it’s in for more repairs?”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know,” and stretched his neck. “I had a little fender-bending trouble on the way home the other night, nothing serious.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want you out of action and wearing a body cast.” She parked; then they caught the elevator to floor fifty-one. She strode to her office; he tagged along.

  He was anxious to explore the contents of the boxes. He sat at McBridle’s desk and waited for security to bring them up from her trunk.

  A minute later, Cliff, a huge lumbering man of over three hundred pounds, bullied open McBridle’s office door; the three boxes were stacked in his hairy arms. “Where do you want them, Ma’am?” he said gruffly and out of breath.

  “Put them beside my desk,” McBridle ordered. She thanked him with a pat on the shoulder and twenty bucks in his pocket as he left the office.

  “We’ll start tomorrow examining the information, if that’s all right with you,” McBridle said, and partially closed the door.

  “That’s fine with me,” Tom replied as if he didn’t care.

  The telephone on her desk was the focal point for his eyes. He wondered when the police would be contacting him about his auto accident. He forgot to call was his lame excuse. What would he say? He drove off the road because he was spaced-out in a mind-crash. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be living amongst padded walls and wearing an employment straitjacket.

  Mackenzie peeked into McBridle’s office. “Celia, we need another player, you’re bowling tonight, right?”

  “Yeah and Bronze will also be joining in,” she replied, somewhat focused on her messages.

  “Tom, no late nights for you,” Mackenzie said with a wink and looked at the boxes with the name Carravecky printed across the white security tape. “Three boxes of bad corporate medicine.”

  “I’ll live,” Tom replied with a smile.

  “Of course you will. You’re young, a strong chap,” he said, and left the office.

  “Do you have any plans for dinner?” McBridle asked.

  “A jam sandwich and a glass of sour-tasting milk,” Tom replied seriously.

  “Not tonight. I’m cooking you a treat you won’t easily forget,” she said, while manoeuvring around her desk. “I forgot to tell you that there’s a meeting scheduled at Carravecky’s for Friday morning.”

  “A classified projects meeting?”

  “No, just a shareholders meeting of some dull sort.”

  “Sounds fun, if you’re a corporate clown.”

  “That’s funny. Actually, they’re really boring, and put you to sleep very fast.” She slid into her coat. “Can you work tonight, after bowling?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I just want to go over a few small investigation details.”

  “I’m committed one hundred percent to this case. If you really need me; and if that’s what you want, I can work,” he replied, while following her out of the office and hot on her heels.

  The day was over, and the workers began to vacate the hive; but Tom’s day was just beginning to buzz.

  They were jammed in like pickled freight as they descended in the elevator. The body compaction forced Tom’s groin tight against McBridle’s clothed spine. He felt the ripeness of her warm muscles, smelled the honey fragrance in her golden hair, and tasted the viscid sweetness in his craving mouth.

  The doors separated like they were pressurized, and the people scrambled like trapped mice. McBridle and Tom left the underground parking and headed out of the business district.

  “Have you ever been to the Side Cliffs?” she asked.

  “The ones with the narrow parking look-offs?”

  “That’s the ones.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there once or twice,” he replied.

  “They’re stunning this time of the day, even more this time of the year. Just a few minutes of smelling the fresh salt air, my stress level will be back to normal.” McBridle drove with a heavy foot; it seemed like the luxury sedan was floating on a buffer of air.

  Tom wondered why she wanted to show him the Side Cliffs, especially now, but didn’t question her ulterior motives.

  They travelled beyond the city’s core. The roadway paralleled the waterline; at one point, it appeared that the tide swells were splashing over the breaks.

  McBridle pulled into the look-off and parked. She hesitated, “Well, this is it, the most beautiful view, I think, on the face of the planet.” Then she got out of the vehicle.

  Even though the sun was warm, the Pacific winds weren’t friendly; she flipped her coat collar up over her ears. “I could watch this sunset every day of my life,” she said, her eyes gesturing into the yonder.

  “It’s a beautiful sight which makes you wonder about the meaning of life here on planet earth,” he replied, as if making trivial conversation.

  They stood overlooking the cliff and the endless ocean of rippled tides that rolled in through the strait.

  “Tom, we can’t trust anybody,” McBridle said out of the blue.

  He stepped closer. “Why do you say that?”

  “This breach of security goes far beyond what you could ever imagine.”

  “How far is that?”

  “Very far; secret organizations are involved. I can’t control what they do. I believe it’s going to get dangerous.”

  “We’ll keep it clean and get through it.”

  She dragged her blowing hair away from her face. “I’m being honest and telling you this so you’ll fully understand what we’re dealing with.” She turned and faced him. “I believe we have an unsolvable problem.”

  “How unsolvable are we talking?” He stood strong yet concerned.

  “If we tell the truth, there’s a higher probability both of us could wash up on the shores of this water’s edge.”

  “So you’re saying we got to lie?”

  She looked down from the look-off. The waves crashed hard against the shoreline where the rocks were sharp as knives. “No, I’m saying, you must decide. I want you to understand what you’re up against because once the boxes are opened there’s no turning back, not for you nor me.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder to offer his reassurance and support.

  “Are you willing to assume this amount of ri
sk?”

  “I’m a real sucker for corporate punishment. Don’t worry about me.”

  She smiled affectionately. “Well, then, good, I’m glad.” She seemingly wanted to hug him but turned away. “I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here and get some dinner,” she said, and started toward the car.

  *****

  After a half-hour or so, they drove into her driveway and entered the house through the side door.

  She closed the family-room curtains for privacy. “I hope pre-processed meatloaf will ignite your deprived taste buds,” she said, and tossed her coat over a chair; “how about a drink?” and yanked open the refrigerator door.

  “Beer or whatever you got is fine,” he replied, and sat into the couch.