Liam mulled over his options and scratched the cat below his ears. Despicable and slippery as she was, Alexandra was right.
Tasha was in trouble, and only he could rescue her.
P, dead asleep on Liam’s lap, startled when the house phone rang. Though Liam didn’t want to answer the call, he couldn’t ignore it. Nobody would call but his mother, and she’d worry if he didn’t pick up. He slid the cat off his lap, walked into the kitchen, and pressed the speak button on the cordless.
“Liam?” Allison’s voice echoed over the line. Her cell must’ve been on speakerphone.
“The one and only.”
“Tasha wants to eat brunch at the O Club, so we’re headed over there. Would you like to join us?” His mother managed to sound sincere even though she couldn’t possibly want him to come.
“Nah. I’m not hungry.” He didn’t mention it somehow felt disloyal to his father’s memory to dine at an Officers’ Club when so many of his fondest family recollections revolved around brunches at NCO Clubs.
A barely audible sigh of relief whispered through the receiver. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yep. Enjoy your brunch.” He clicked off the phone and placed it back in its cradle.
With a mighty yawn, RP sauntered into the kitchen. He threaded between Liam’s legs, meowing at the kitchen door.
“Missing your girlfriend?”
RP meowed again.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t get into too much trouble.”
He opened the kitchen door, and RP bolted out, headed for his favorite bush. Green leaves shook as the cat’s tail disappeared under the shrub.
As Liam turned to go back inside, the rusted Schwinn caught his eye. The last time he’d ridden it, he’d cowered under Cull’s threats. His success putting Mrs. Channer in her place this morning emboldened him to investigate the man now. Nobody threatened him without consequences.
Besides, he had some newfound skills to show off.
Full of good intentions and ingenious solutions, he made a beeline to the family room. Like a favorable omen, Isaac’s plastic office access key dangled from the hall tree. Liam clipped it to his shirt and hurried out of the house. He didn’t bother to lock the door. The newest Mrs. Channer wasn’t a threat yet; the replica wouldn’t be fully fabricated until later. He hopped onto his bike and pedaled past her house, disappointed to see the only evidence of their encounter was the bloody path she’d left from her garden to her porch.
He navigated onto the bike path that lined Beacon Beach Road and kept his eyes trained two feet ahead of him. Otherwise, the gray concrete sidewalk resembled more an endless corridor to purgatory than a trail to the base’s professional sector.
Ultraviolet rays beat down on his skin, forming new blisters on the back of his hands. The asphalt road beside him morphed into a long snake that undulated under the late summer sun. Screams and shouts echoed through the woods.
The pine trees whispered, “We know who you are, Liam Murphy. You’re bad. Bad news, bad man, bad soul.”
He snorted. He could handle these voices. What he couldn’t handle was witnessing a teenage kid beat his dog to death. Today, he’d already passed the spot where the dreadful incident had occurred with no ill effects other than a bad taste in his mouth.
A sage-green stroller squeaked toward him, powered by a demon disguised as a middle-aged jogger. She deemed her camouflage strong enough to fool him, but he was no noob. A quick glance confirmed his suspicion-not a car dotted the long road before or behind him. The damn demon must’ve derailed traffic so there’d be no witnesses. He’d succeeded against worse odds, though, so he hunkered down and pedaled harder. His burst of speed caught the fiend by surprise, and a supremely calculated kick to the knees sent her screaming and tumbling to the ground. The stroller careened to the side and teetered on one wheel before toppling on the demon.
Served her right.
The demons, however, decided not to let him off easy. Four more bikes loomed ahead in the distance. He’d be able to handle two of them, but four at once would overwhelm him. He choked back his disgust and veered onto the road, where his bike’s tires bumped over the reptilian scales of the monster snake masquerading as a street. Every jolt and swell in the road revealed the multitudes of animals the serpent had devoured.
Vile and horrid as they were, Liam had to credit the demons for their flexibility. Because, shortly after his successful parry and move to the road, they reversed course and decided to use traffic to their advantage. A car zoomed up behind him and blasted its horn. He ignored it. The car honked again. He gasped for breath and flung a weak hand out to wave the vehicle on. His lungs hadn’t seen a workout like this since high school. A white sedan pulled beside him, its window rolled down so a squat man could yell, “Get out of the road! You’re going to get yourself killed!”
The bikers rode parallel to him now. While playing the innocent altruist, the driver actually conspired with the demons and tried to force him into their midst.
Liam shook his fist and spit at the man. He slowed his pace and dropped behind the sedan. The biker demons, dressed as pre-teens, stared at him open-mouthed.
“Don’t get near me!” he screamed.
They shook their heads in unison and rode away in silent terror. Wonderful. They understood he’d grown stronger.
More cars honked as they piled behind him, but he tuned them out. Nothing mattered but getting to Isaac’s office. His calves cramped, but he bit down on his tongue and biked through the pain. His heart fluttered with stress and exertion as he finally neared the Base Support Center. Once he arrived at the building, he threw down his bike and doubled over to catch his breath. The ground stayed still and solid under his feet. He’d escaped the snake.
A hot gust of wind pushed against his back and urged him forward. He climbed up the steps to the entrance and tried the door. It was locked. A small video camera focused on the entrance blinked a red light at him. He bet Mrs. Channer had a live feed of the camera in her house. Too bad the bitch had to replicate. She’d be upset when she discovered she’d missed his investigation.
He waved Isaac’s access key in front of a small laser reader. The door clicked open, and the sweet kiss of air-conditioning welcomed him inside. Sweat rolled down his neck as he made a slow circuit around the building. He ducked into cubicles where well-worn cardigans hung over the backs of chairs, stepped into offices showcasing desks lined with neat paper stacks, and investigated the small kitchenette littered with half-finished cans of soda. Though he scrutinized each framed picture or snapshot tacked on the wall, none showed any sign of Cull.
Soon enough, he’d searched everywhere except one last set of cubicles near Isaac’s office. He snooped around the stall directly opposite his stepfather’s door but found only trite aphorisms printed over pictures of cute kittens. Disappointed he’d struck out yet again, he flung himself onto a black chair positioned in front of the workstation. He stabbed a leg at the ground and pushed off, repeating the process until the chair’s squeaky wheels sang a discordant symphony. Then a stench hit his nostrils. He froze. The smell intensified, like potent ammonia with a dash of ground-up worms. He gagged and reached for the wastebasket but snatched his hand away when he saw what lay within it.
A thick coral snake writhed in the trashcan. Its red, yellow, and black scales pulsed against the plastic container. Liam gasped.
Additional movement from above caught his eye. A black mamba wended its way down the fabric cubicle wall, pausing to taste the air with its forked tongue before dropping to the floor. Liam stopped breathing. The mamba had joined a boiling mass of snakes. Boas, rattlers, corn snakes, pythons. They crested each other like hissing, rolling waves, building upon one another until they neared the chair’s fake leather cushion.
His fingers tingled with dread as he held out his right hand and closed it into a fist. He commanded the roof to collapse on the snakes and edged backward, preparing to cover his head against the falling debris
.
The roof didn’t budge.
He relaxed his hand, flicked his pointer finger up to the sky, and ordered his chair to rise. He’d float out of this hellish office.
The only motion from his chair came from the snakes rocking it as they slithered ever closer to him.
Panicked, he stood on the uncooperative chair and stepped onto the desk behind him. He grabbed hold of the cubicle’s top cap and jumped, attempting to swing his leg over the partition. The move required more flexibility than he possessed, though, so instead of launching over the panel, his leg hit it with a pathetic thud. The partition careened backward under the burden of his weight and for a heart-pounding moment, came close to toppling. He fought to recover his balance and pushed the panel back upright.
Despite his better judgment, he glanced at the chair on which he’d sat. Snakes engulfed it, their festering movements jerking it back and forth. His knees threatened to give out, but he punched them into a locked position. His hands shook as he gathered all the binders and books he could find on the desk and piled them high. When nothing more remained to make the stack taller, he climbed onto it. The makeshift stepladder teetered and threatened to slide out from under him.
His waist now hit the top of the cubicle. He leaned over, clutching the fabric wall so tightly he cracked a nail, and swung over his right leg. The panel swayed under his weight, and the haphazard stack of books collapsed after he pushed off with his left leg. Once both legs hung from the opposite side of the partition, he dropped onto the desk below.
A quick survey confirmed the snakes hadn’t followed him. Yet. He crouched and jumped down but misjudged the distance to the ground and hit it hard. His face banged the corner of a filing cabinet, and a gushing wound opened on his cheek. Heedless of the pain, Liam pulled himself to standing.
Fear so contorted his vision he almost missed it. Then his eyes focused on a photo tacked to the cubicle. Tattered around the edges and full of pin holes, it depicted a smiling man embracing a brunette in front of a sailboat. Pulse already quickened-Liam would recognize the man’s face even if it hadn’t been turned slightly to the side so that his spider tattoo peeked out-it skyrocketed when he squinted at the picture. Looping cursive letters on the boat’s hull declared its name: Freedom.
Finally. The victim really existed, and he’d found him, with physical proof tying him to Cull’s boat. A white nameplate adhered to the cubicle named the man “Stuart Laughlin.”
A shuffling sound behind him sent chills racing through his body. Liam turned and held his breath. A throng of snakes slithered toward him, their progress slow but relentless. He stifled a cry of terror and took a step toward the front door when it swung open wide.
Stuart Laughlin and Cull stood before him. Deep in conversation, the two men obviously didn’t expect to see anybody here on a Sunday morning, and so far remained oblivious to his presence. Liam whipped his head behind the wall and sprinted across the hall to another cubicle. He huddled under its desk, hidden from Stuart and Cull’s view.
“Pickup is scheduled for three weeks from today. And take my word for it, Stuart, these guys will count the money. Every single dime needs to be accounted for,” Cull said.
“I’m not moving the product as quickly as I’d like. They can’t fault me for low demand,” Stuart said.
A harsh snicker. “There’s always a high demand for our product. Either you’re not trying hard enough, or you’re skimming off the top.”
A cobra slithered across the hallway and peeked its red eyes around the wall at Liam. If a snake ever smiled, this one did. It had found fresh prey. Liam scooted to the other end of the desk. The cobra followed.
“Cull, you know I wouldn’t steal from you. I’m not dumb. I’m merely suggesting maybe the guys we went into business with are more trouble than they’re worth. They’re not the only source for cocaine,” Stuart said.
Snakes dropped now from the ceiling and piled up in front of the cubicle where Liam hid, waiting to smother him in their coiling masses. He rocked back and forth.
“Don’t strain yourself, Stuart. Leave the supplier to me. I’ve got it figured out,” Cull said.
Keys tinkled against each other, followed by the slight swishing sound of a drawer opening.
“Here’s all the cash so far. It’s a tidy sum,” Stuart said.
Cull chuckled. “I’m impressed. Hiding the cash in the relative open? Ballsy and effective.”
The drawer closed, followed by the sound of a key turning a lock.
“You need to be extra careful around Colonel Northman, though. That messed-up stepson of his saw our stash. I bet he’s the one who called in the tip to Security Forces,” Cull said.
“The kid’s not a problem. He’s as unreliable a witness as they come. Nobody would believe him,” said Stuart.
“True, but I don’t want any unnecessary heat. He might have to disappear. Lucky for us, the kid’s crazy. Nobody will bother searching for him.”
The churning mass of snakes reached Liam’s feet. Tens of snakes constricted his legs while others bit his knees and thighs. He struggled to keep from blacking out.
The two men shuffled out to the hallway, taking their leave at a leisurely pace.
The snakes reached Liam’s torso now, and his body swayed with the movements of the reptiles. A torturously long boa wrapped around his chest and squeezed his ribs until they cracked.
He strained to hear the door swing shut through the slithering of snakes. Finally, the lock clicked.
Liam cried out and flung his hands into the pool of snakes, trying to part his way through it like Moses did the Red Sea. A massive boa crushed his lungs, and several smaller constrictors pulsed their smooth muscles over his legs and abdomen, impeding his progress. He crawled through the snakes and batted away cobras that sunk venomous fangs into his hands, face, and arms. Black stars danced in his vision. Both his lack of oxygen and searing pain threatened to pull him under the sea of serpents.
A red exit sign loomed impossibly far ahead. A coral snake slithered through his hair and bit his earlobe. Liam vomited from the poison, but he pushed forward, slogging through his own rank bile.
When he reached the exit, he rose to his trembling knees. The door handles hissed at him and wriggled out of his touch when he grasped them.
“No!” He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and reached again with the last of his energy. This time, he grasped solid metal and forced his way out to the open air. The snakes sizzled upon contact with the sun, skin crackling as they burned. Liam flung them off his body and unwound the boa from his chest. With each loop loosened, he found more of his breath. He kicked the serpents off his lower legs until the monsters no longer clung to him.
The gallons of venom injected into his veins stung every inch of his body. He lurched toward his bike. His swollen hands ached when he clenched the handlebars and sat on the Schwinn. Nobody would rescue him. He had to leave before the snakes figured out how to survive in the sun.
With a shaky shove from his left foot, Liam fled from Isaac’s office and its nightmares.
iam didn’t return home. Instead, he retreated to the live oak grove in the backyard. He climbed up his favorite tree and hovered on the highest knotted branch he could reach. Every balance check he made shot searing pain through his ribs. A thirst like none he’d ever known burned his throat, and the gash in his cheek seeped blood like a bubbling hot spring oozing sulfur.
He’d gone to Isaac’s office seeking the truth. The price he’d paid to gain it was immense, and now he didn’t even know what he could do with it. Stuart was right; Isaac would never believe him. Nor would any law enforcement officer. Liam questioned the vision himself, especially considering Stuart, the man he saw murdered, was alive and well. That certainly complicated reporting his death.
A wave of intense heat hit Liam. A husky voice spoke from the air. “What are you doing up here?”
Alexandra. Again.
“Recovering.”
“You’ve ‘recovered’ all day. Your mother’s sick with concern. Even Tasha’s worried. Not to mention Joshua. He’s very upset with you.”
Joshua glowered behind the dining room windows, his eyes burrowing into Liam’s. Allison stood beside him and gazed out at the beach, unaware her son hid a hundred feet away.
“I had a rough day. You lied to me. I can’t move objects with my mind. You’re the one with the power. You lifted the table, and you attacked Mrs. Channer. Not me.”
“I’m not a liar, Liam. Your powers are connected to me. They don’t work unless I’m there.”
“Awfully convenient, that.” A mosquito buzzed by his ear and landed on his neck. The insect pricked his skin, but he didn’t swat it away.
“I don’t make the rules,” Alexandra said. “Regardless of your petty hurt feelings, you’ve got to pull your act together for tonight. Do you remember our agreement?”
His grip on the tree branch tightened. “Yes.”
“Good. Because Mrs. Channer’s replication is one hundred percent complete now, and she’s pissed. She’s going to attack tonight. Tasha needs to be out of the house when she does.”
“I understand,” he said. And he did. But he couldn’t bring himself to go home quite yet. His mother would suspect he’d lost his fight with schizophrenia once again. If he could wait until dark, he could mask his symptoms better. Plus, Tasha would be asleep and not see him this way.
After hours of insects crawling on his skin and sweat pooling in the small of his back, the grayness of dusk replaced the afternoon light. Time to leave his haven. He skidded down chunks of bark, scraping his hands and knees raw. He walked into the house a matted mess of sweat, dirt, blood, and vomit.
Separated by Tasha’s vacant seat, Isaac and Allison sat at the dining room table. They stared at him with wide eyes.
“Honey, what happened to your head? Where’ve you been?” asked Allison. Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned.
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