STORM: IT'S A CURSE TO REMEMBER

by Gurpreet Kaur Sidhu

  Whatever Marvin was doing concerning Shadow, having two agents linked to Shadow—one being the head of the agency—only meant one thing. Anyone who got in the way would end up dead.

  Bruce leaned back in his chair, trying not to vomit. Inhale and exhale, he repeated to himself. Inhale and exhale. He quickly pulled out the trashcan from underneath his desk and puked.

  He knew what they would do to Evan if he somehow prevented Marvin from completing his assignment. Bruce knew what the torture was like. He knew what the agents were capable of doing. Skinning their victims alive, burning their genitals, breaking their knees and collarbones, or paralyzing them so they would never walk again—he knew the torture.

  Something had to be done.

  Chapter 14

  Bruce fidgeted in his seat in a windowless hall that had shiny dark mahogany flooring and a panel that sat five board directors. Before him was a piece of paper, which in great detail proposed for Marvin to take a step down as Agent 212 and take a leave of absence from the SEA.

  He needed this appeal to work. This was the only way to stop Marvin dead in his tracks. With the board signing off on his request, Marvin was prohibited from working on any cases. He would be restricted from making any kind of connections with anyone at the agency. And of course all of this was going to be monitored, for precaution, just in case he slipped through the cracks.

  As Bruce continued to fidget in his seat, in came the board of directors one by one, all dressed in black pantsuits, taking their seat at the panel in front of him, which was about five feet higher than he was. One of the directors was a brunette, wearing a black pantsuit, who sat at the end, fashioning long bangs, a bun, and red lipstick. She was fifty-eight but didn’t look a day over thirty-five. The rest were men in their late fifties and early sixties, graying or balding.

  The board members that sat before him had been agents at one point in their life. Now their responsibility was to attend meetings for the agency, handle issues within the departments, hire new agents, and ultimately promote who they believed was doing an exceptional job to the next floor. It was less messy and stressful. The excitement they had for going on missions for their clients had reached its peak. These were the individuals who had done and seen everything but weren’t exactly ready to retire.

  Bruce sat up straight, trying to keep his nerves calm. His eyes flicked to the brunette for a moment, feeling a bit of tranquility before looking away and focusing on the speaker who sat in the middle.

  “Please state your name and your ID,” said the agent in a husky voice. He had his hands folded, holding eye contact with Bruce, who looked like more of a cleaned-up version of an inmate at a court hearing.

  “Yes sir,” he answered and cleared his throat. “Bruce Storm, 513-510-231-958.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking down at the file in front of him. “We are here to help in whichever way we can. Our decision will be based entirely on the benefit to the whole and not to the individual. The sole purpose for this meeting is to hear your appeal and formulate a decision, which will be fair and final. Do you understand, Mr. Storm? If you have any questions, we can clarify before we get started.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Please proceed,” he motioned.

  All of them looked at Bruce in a condescending way except for the brunette. Her eyes were soft and understanding. It put him at ease knowing she was there.

  Bruce cleared his throat and presented his appeal.

  “I had my boss sign a written statement that allowed me to look into all of Mr. Stone’s cases, open and closed. The case he’s currently working on puts innocent lives in jeopardy. It will only create backlash and chaos with the public, which can be detrimental for our organization—”

  “Mr. Storm,” the man interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “The agency can never be located. We cannot be tracked down. Mr. Stone’s assignment will not in any way put our agency at risk for any kind of backlash or legal dispute because in reality, we do not exist.”

  Bruce nodded. “Yes, I understand that sir, but looking into Mr. Stone’s files has raised some questions. The rules here at the Secret Eye Agency,” he said, tapping his index finger on the table, “is that we do our work as well as we have been trained to do, if not better, keeping in mind that there is no tolerance for revenge. And I believe Mr. Stone is out to get revenge. He was on this same assignment once before until he was suspended from it. I believe—”

  “Mr. Storm, you’re a fifth floor agent, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Then I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you the meaning of what a ‘personal assignment’ is.”

  “No, sir. You don’t.”

  “Mr. Stone has the authorization to continue with his personal assignment.”

  Bruce was confused. “From who?”

  “Mr. Stone has the clearance to go ahead and proceed with his assignment. That’s all you need to know.”

  “This is absurd!” Bruce jolted out of his seat in rage. He planted his hands on the table and leaned forward. He looked at each and every one of the board members. None of them had said a word or made an impression whether or not they disagreed with the speaker. “He is a menace. He shouldn’t even be allowed to work here. Have you looked into his files?” Again, he looked at each one of them for an answer. “Have you?”

  “No, but there is nothing more we can do. We listened to your appeal, Mr.—”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance to finish!” he said, cutting him off. “How about the rest of you? Aren’t you allowed to weigh in? Isn’t this supposed to be a fair discussion and a fair decision? Doesn’t this agency exist to protect the people?”

  The speaker spoke in a calm and collective voice. “Mr. Storm, there is nothing we can do.”

  “Yes, yes there is something you can do. People’s lives are in danger, people who are completely innocent. This is not how we do things around here. I know that, you all know that.” His heart picked up its pace. His fingers trembled and for some reason it felt as if his body was frozen in position. He couldn’t seem to move. He remained standing. Before a panic attack was about to set in, he shut his eyes for a brief moment before glaring at the speaker once again. “Mr. Stone can’t continue—”

  “Mr. Storm,” said the speaker, raising his eyebrows, “you need to drop this or we will put you on probation. This is an order.” He tilted his head toward the door with a stern look.

  Bruce wanted to grab the man by the throat and choke him until he turned pale. He slammed his fist on the table. “This is bullshit! Innocent lives are going to fall into your hands. You will be responsible for that,” he said, pointing his finger at each one of them. Bruce buttoned his blazer and wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead with his pocket handkerchief. “You will pay for this.”

  He headed out the door, feeling defeated without a fair fight.

  As the door shut behind him, the brunette spoke, very much with a powerful voice. “This certainly was not fair. He had no chance to argue his point.”

  The speaker looked down at the end. “You already knew this was out of our hands when he called in the meeting.”

  The brunette shook her head in disagreement. “This agency works in favor for the innocent. This isn’t right.”

  One of the men from the opposite end spoke. “Is anything we do right? We were given an order and there’s nothing we can do. Our hands are tied.”

  “Then what are the rules made for? If you can walk around them, break them every once in a while for someone else’s best interest, then why don’t we just allow every one of our agents to do whatever the hell they want? So what if they slit throats in broad daylight to send a message to the rest? That’s what’s going to happen if we let one slide just because we were given an order.”

  “She’s r
ight,” chimed in another. “We give strict rules to our agents for a reason. It keeps them in line, and breaking the rules for one agent only means we’ll be breaking the rules down the line for others as well.”

  “This was Mr. Hex’s order,” said the speaker, “and there’s nothing we can do. It’s out of our hands.”

  The brunette shook her head again. “We’re all going to Hell.”

  “I believe we signed our death sentence to Hell the day we agreed to work for the agency.”

  The brunette leaned forward; glaring at the speaker, knowing for a fact there was something that could have been done on Bruce’s behalf.

  She, like the rest of the board, was instructed not to say anything during the meeting. Whether they agreed with the decision or not, for this case, they were asked to keep their opinions to themselves. And the brunette had been fighting to keep her voice locked in a cage from the moment she entered the chamber.

  The brunette scoffed as she left the chamber, leaving the men to rethink what just happened.

  ***

  Evan walked into the family room with a glass of water, wearing a fresh pair of clothes. He wanted to look good for Shadow when he’d see her later. It had been a while since he’d put in the effort to look good for someone else and even when he tried, a little part of him always felt he could do more.

  There sat the box of memories next to an empty photo album. This time, he was going to at least finish one album. Evan knew he was going to get sidetracked with every bit of emotion the photos carried, and it was hard not to sit and just think of all the memories he’d had with his parents. At age four, there was only so much he remembered and photos helped bring back the little missing pieces.

  Placing the glass on the coffee table, he propped open the box, placing the lid beside him on the couch. He sighed as he picked up a photo of Venice at his father’s high school graduation. The one after was of Denise and her mother. Denise’s smile looked just like their mother’s. There was no denying the fact that Evan took after his father and Denise after her mother. One could say they were little miniature versions of their parents.

  After spreading half of the photos all over the coffee table, Evan grouped them according to a timeline. He placed all the pictures of just his father and Grandma Venice and Grandpa Dean in one pile. Graduation pictures were in another pile. Photos of his mother and his father went in another. College graduation went in another and then wedding photos of his parents. A stack of pregnancy photos went in another one. The ones that had Denise in them went into a separate pile. This was unquestionably easier than the project he started in the backyard.

  Once all the photos had been placed in a pile, Evan began to slide each photo into the clear plastic pockets. Evan stared at each picture momentarily before sliding it into the photo album. One photo specifically made him grin: It was a picture of his mother, pregnant; his father had his hand placed on her belly, smiling at her as she looked at the camera, beaming. The look on his father’s face said it all. He looked at her as if it was the first time he’d seen the love of his life. There was no doubt that his parents were in love.

  He slipped the photo into the pocket, moving on to the next one.

  It was half past five. He was almost done completing the third photo album and there was still one stack left, mostly of the ones of him, Denise, and Grandma Venice. Graduations, birthdays, and Denise’s wedding—that was the most recent one he’d come across. If it hadn’t been for Venice, they’d have only a couple of photos from the last twenty-seven years. He’d come to appreciate his grandmother’s efforts to create memories so they’d have something to look back at.

  Evan stepped into the garage, carefully carrying out the new screen door for Shadow. It was the first thing he did that morning before working in the backyard. It wasn’t heavy, but the box it came in made it difficult to maneuver. He held the door with one hand and used the other to push the box upward then onto the hardwood floor. He slid it across the floor all the way to the front door. He picked up the business cards of landscapers that were available in the area for Shadow and put them in his back pocket.

  He stepped outside and locked the door behind him. The sun was shining over Lake View but within seconds heavy gray clouds obscured the sky. Evan hoped for rain. He found an odd sense of peace when the rain pattered against the bedroom windows. If he was sitting in the living room watching TV, the sound of rain made everything seem more enjoyable and worry-free. It reminded him of the days where his mother would make hot cocoa for him and Denise and then huddle up on the couch to enjoy a good movie during the holidays.

  Usually Lake View experienced rainy days, one after another, from November until mid-January. But this time around, there was no rain. When it appeared that there was going to be a chance of rain, it only happened to be a tease. The clouds would clear up with a brisk breeze and a cold temperature.

  He tracked toward Shadow’s house, carrying the cardboard box over his head and finding the balance was tricky. As it would lean forward, within seconds, it would lean backward, and he’d struggle to find the balance once again. Carrying the door made the walk from and to Shadow’s house convey the impression that it was farther than it really was.

  Once Evan stepped foot on Shadow’s porch, he let the cardboard box lean against the house, and pushed the doorbell. Subconsciously he took a step back.

  A moment later, Shadow stood in front of him. She looked stunning in her dark blue pencil skirt and white blouse. Her hair was curled at the ends, giving the strands a little bounce and volume.

  She batted her eyelashes as she gazed at him through her sea blue eyes.

  Evan was certain his heart skipped a beat when she did that.

  She smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets “Did you just get back from work?”

  “No, I came home about an hour ago. I went shopping for groceries afterward,” she said, pausing as she stood to the side. “Come on in. I’m keeping you out in the cold.”

  “It’s not that cold,” he said, with a soft smile. Once the words slipped out of his mouth, he realized the cold breeze was starting to attach itself on the base of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “On second thought, it kinda is.”

  Evan proceeded to pick up the cardboard box and Shadow moved out of the doorway automatically. Evan carried the box by his side and Shadow subtly walked behind him, admiring his broad shoulders and his biceps bulging through his shirt. She found herself smiling as she ogled Evan from behind. She didn’t fail to notice his jeans fit snug around his rear and hadn’t forgotten why Evan felt so familiar. Then her feelings began to sink in.

  Finally when he reached the back door, Evan carefully set the box by the wall, next to the back door. He rested his hands on his hips, eyes fixated on the box.

  “I got some landscapers for you,” he said as he slid his hand into his back pocket. “Most of them offer free consultations.”

  Shadow, having been deep in thought, gave him a blank expression. She knew she couldn’t change what she’d done but Evan reminded her of her mistake. She looked at what Evan was holding in his hand and then back at him.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I was…I just in a whole other world,” Shadow said, shaking away her thoughts. “What were you saying again?”

  “I got some people who you can contact about doing your landscaping.”

  “Oh, thank you. You can just go ahead and put them on the table. I really appreciate it,” she said, smiling.

  Evan set the cards on the table and focused on the project that sat in front of him. He proceeded what he needed and analyzed how long it was going to take him to take the old door off and install the new one. After some thought, he came to the conclusion that it was going to take an hour—maybe even less, if he focused.

  Meanwhile, Shadow unpacked the g
roceries she’d set on the kitchen counter. She subtly watched Evan, who looked deep in thought, as she set down the pizza sauce, then the cheese. Before she could voice her concern, Evan expressed his thought.

  “You wouldn’t by any chance happen to have a toolbox, would you?”

  Shadow pressed her hands against the edge of the counter, pursing her lips.

  “Actually, I do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, batting her eyes.

  Again with the eyes! Shadow sent a vibration that ran through his body, making the hairs on his neck rise for a standing ovation.

  Shadow passed by Evan as she made her way to the garage close enough that he could smell her hair. And it smelled like a flower garden. A few moments later, Shadow appeared, carrying a red toolbox. She set it on the table and waited for Evan to tease her.

  “Well,” he said, nodding, “I thought you were going to come back carrying a couple of tools painted in pink.”

  “I had those too,” she chortled, “and then for a very short period, I wanted to become a handy-woman. I went out and bought a real toolbox. It was a short-lived passion.” She grinned. “I can fix a lose screw and a water leak in the sink, but that’s about it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Shadow was something else. “That’s more than what most women know how to do.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “No. I’m just telling you the truth.” He smiled.

  “I hope you brought your appetite. I’m making pizza.”

  “As long as you have a fire extinguisher nearby, I’m game.”

  “Wow,” she exclaimed, “you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

  “I had a little too much wine before I came over.” He winked.

  Shadow broke into laughter. Without saying another word, Shadow threw up her hands, playfully showing defeat and went back into the kitchen. And Evan watched her walk away like a goddess.