Enigma Black

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “We’re supposed to die as opposed to being treated by a third party?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess the only solution to that is to not get injured at all then.”

  The familiar smirk returned to his face. “That’s the spirit.”

  Our car turned down Blossom Street, the surroundings becoming more and more recognizable, telling me that we were less than a mile from Hope Memorial. As we turned down the street, a police car pulled out of a dark alleyway, coming within inches of our bumper. A red beam appeared from the windshield, a sign that our license plate was being scanned and read.

  “Government plate?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he won’t dare try to pull us over,” Blake prophesied. As though silently agreeing with him, the officer, appearing satisfied with the information he received, pulled into the lane next to us, nodding at Blake as he drove by. We continued down Blossom Street, eventually passing Hope Memorial, my former home. A shiver ran throughout my entire body, and goose bumps prickled my skin.

  “What if he’s watching us this very second?”

  “Let him watch us then. The sooner he attacks, the sooner our job is done.”

  “And the sooner we catch him, the sooner we can return to our lives.”

  “Yeah. Our lives.” The tone in Blake’s voice seemed less than enthusiastic.

  “You don’t seem too thrilled with that premise.”

  “That’s because I have no life to return to. The Epicenter and the cause are my life now. To be honest with you, I’m not too sure what I would do if I weren’t there. I guess I never thought about it before.” He turned down the alleyway of an abandoned building two blocks from Hope Memorial, angled the car behind a weathered dumpster, and killed the engine.

  “Let’s cover her up, then develop our plan of attack,” he announced as we emerged from the car. I peered in the dumpster, where I spotted some cardboard. Once the car was successfully covered, Blake and I, donning our masks, made our way down the dimly lit street to the doorway of a dilapidated building. From the looks of the weathered advertisements on the window, our chosen hideout had once housed fine antique furniture. With a swift kick, the boards covering the doorway were reduced to splinters by the force of Blake’s foot.

  “Show off,” I mused.

  “Ladies first.” He gestured for me to enter.

  “Who said chivalry was dead.”

  “Chivalry? I’m sending you in first to make sure this place really is abandoned.”

  “You’re using me as a human shield. How sweet.”

  “Only the best for you, babe. Don’t say I never gave you anything.” I stepped inside the pitch black building, allowing my eyes to adjust to the infinite darkness that encapsulated the room. Luckily, a hint of moonlight shone in an un-boarded window, creating somewhat of a lunar light source. In the light of the moon, I saw a figure facing me at the far end of the room. My body stiffened as a surge of adrenaline overcame my being.

  “Calm down, Cujo. You’re looking at a mirror,” Blake laughed, thoroughly amused.

  “I knew that.” My body relaxed, and I was happy that it was too dark for Blake to see the crimson on my flushed cheeks.

  “Uh, huh.” We wandered around the cluttered building, avoiding pieces of broken furniture and whole pieces of perfectly good furniture left in the previous owner’s hasty retreat. Buildings like this were common place around here. Once the frantic mortgagee left town, ultimately defaulting on their loan payments, the banks took over. Having worked at a bank, there were a few times when I was called in on weekends to help clear away the possessions of the former tenant of a building we were in the process of repossessing. Most of the time, the bank, after failing to locate the whereabouts of the tenant, would just send the confiscated items to auction and pocket whatever money was made. Then again, sometimes we employees would benefit from the cleanups, getting first dibs before the items were hauled away. The kitchen table in my former apartment came from just such repossession.

  I located a mattress amidst a pile of discarded dresser drawers. Clearing it, I lay down, enjoying the feeling of an actual bed underneath my back instead of the board-like imposter mattress my room at the Epicenter offered. Blake walked over and sat down beside me. The mattress shifted with his weight. “Are you worried?” He asked, a hint of compassion reflected in his voice.

  “Of course I am. I’m not worried for me, though. I’m worried for all of those patients, those physicians, nurses, visitors and…”

  “Chase?” Blake interceded.

  “Yes. As selfish as it may sound, I’m worried about him most of all.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere near the pediatric unit, you know.”

  “What if that’s where the action is?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Some plan that is.”

  “Speaking of plans, we should probably come up with one of those.”

  “That’s probably a good idea considering daylight is only a couple of hours away.”

  He dusted off the side of the mattress and laid down next to me, staring up at the ceiling. I shifted to my side, my head resting on my arm, spinning my finger around an indentation in the mattress, following one of the stripes that made up its pattern like an imaginary roadway. Blake turned his head to watch me, obviously amused. “I plan on putting street clothes on over my suit while I scout around the hospital using the map you’re going to draw for me based upon your memory of the hospital’s layout.”

  “You know, I’m not an expert. They’ve added an entirely new wing for the cancer center that I’m not at all familiar with.”

  “Do the best you can.”

  “What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can just walk around there without being noticed.”

  “I need you to scout around the outskirts of the building, letting me know if you see anything that appears out of place to you. Also, do the best you can to break into the ventilation system. That seems to be a popular place for him to set up explosives.” He rolled on his side to face me. “But…most importantly...I need you to keep your head on your shoulders. Whether Chase is there or not, don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

  I nodded without looking him in the eye, rolling back onto my back. His eyes were still on me. He was deep in thought. My guess was that it had nothing to do with the impending confrontation. “Celaine,” Blake’s voice cut through the silence, “do you think you’ll ever be able to move forward in your life without him?”

  “If by that you mean will I ever completely be over Chase…well…no…I can’t see that ever happening.”

  “Kind of what I thought.” There was a touch of disappointment in his voice when he spoke. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

  “A couple of days,” I replied.

  “Why don’t you try now? I need you in top form tomorrow. I’ll do a preliminary patrol of the streets and the buildings surrounding the hospital.”

  “The chances of me falling asleep right now are slim to none.”

  “Yeah, but the chances of there being any attack for a few more hours are also slim to none, so you might as well rest up while you can.”

  “Okay. You’re the boss,” I conceded.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll wake you if there’s any action.”

  “You’d better.” The mattress shifted again as he stood up to leave me alone with my restless thoughts.

  ****

  Blake paced the sidewalk, feverishly taking drags from a cigarette out of the pack he’d managed to keep stashed away from Victor‘s prying eyes. Smoking—especially when it pertained to someone of his kind—was not exactly smiled upon back at headquarters.

  “Damn it.”

  He threw the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out against the cracked concrete. There’d only been one other time when a woman had made him feel the way he felt now and that had ended
miserably. So why was he considering changing his entire philosophy for this one? Was she so different? Yes, he already knew she was. Never before had a woman been able to simultaneously intrigue and terrify him. Try as he might, he couldn’t deny his feelings for her even though he knew he had to. For the sake of the mission, and his pride, he had to.

  But that was easier said than done. The way she smiled that crooked smile of hers; the way her eyes seemed to penetrate his soul; the impeccable, smartass retort she always seemed to come up with even to his most audacious of comments. She was the complete package, one of which he’d been incredibly protective of since her arrival at the Epicenter. Surely, her feelings for Chase would grow cold, especially when he found some other broad to shack up with to take her place.

  Running his hand through his disheveled hair, Blake nervously pulled out another cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it behind his cupped hand. Nerves always had a way of bringing out the chain-smoking pacer in him, and tonight was no exception. Ash poured down, falling to the ground slightly behind his footsteps. “Just tell her now, you idiot,” he muttered.

  Yes, he would tell her. At the very least, it would give her something to think about and, who knows, maybe someday she would look at him with the ability to reciprocate those feelings burning within him. Taking a final drag from his cigarette, he tossed it to the pavement, watching it roll into an awaiting storm drain. It was time to man up.

  Shuffling back up the sidewalk to the door of the furniture store, he hunched over to crawl through the remnants of the doorway, quietly making his way back to the mattress where she lay…sleeping. He’d only been gone twenty minutes and she was already sleeping. Carefully, he sat down at the foot of the mattress, doing his best to avoid disturbing her. In the silence, with his head in his hands, he listened to the melody of her breathing, knowing that this was as close to perfect as he was going to get tonight.

  Tomorrow, he thought. I’ll tell her tomorrow.

  In that instant, she began stirring in her sleep, mumbling unintelligible words he couldn’t quite make out, until a single, undeniable name escaped her lips, tearing through him.

  “Chase,” she moaned.

  Damn it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Incident at Hope Memorial Hospital

  I awoke as the sunlight broke through the horizon. Blake was nowhere in sight, still patrolling, perhaps. My muscles ached. I stretched them, eliciting a charley horse in my right calf. Frantically, I jumped up, putting pressure on the afflicted limb in the hopes of gaining some relief. Instead, I only managed to further exacerbate the matter by tripping over one of the many piles of junk congregated throughout the building. One thing was for sure, no matter how much science intervened, it still couldn’t completely eliminate my propensity for klutziness. It was as though it’d been infused in my DNA somewhere.

  From my vantage point flat on the ground, I saw a pair of boots entering the building. My eyes trailed up from their leather exterior to the figure they belonged to: a blue jean-wearing, sweater-donning Blake complete with coffee and doughnuts to start the day. His expression changed from one of exasperation to one of curiosity as he cocked his head.

  “It was the strangest thing,” I mumbled, half embarrassed. “I got out of bed to start my day, minding my own business, when this random pile of junk just jumped out of nowhere, completely taking me out.”

  “Yeah. You have to watch out for those rogue bed posts; they’ve been known to take unsuspecting bystanders out by their knees.”

  I stood up, dusting myself off. “You’ve had a pretty productive morning already. When did the transformation to Mr. GQ occur?” His face flushed, a sight of which I didn’t anticipate.

  “Well, you know, have to go incognito and all,” he murmured, his face reddening. “Here.” Holding out his hand, he handed me one of the styrofoam cups of coffee. I took the cup, eyeing the box in his other hand, quizzically, greedily. “I didn’t know which one you’d like,” he said, noticing my fixated gaze, “so I bought a variety.” He smiled, handing me the box, which I happily opened, and was enthusiastically greeted by an assortment of brightly colored, heavenly confections. My stomach voiced its approval.

  “Thank you, Blake. This is exactly what I needed.”

  “Don’t mention it, kid.”

  With the approaching daylight, I was able to locate a partially complete sofa. Eying Blake, I motioned to it. “Shall we?”

  “Lead the way,” he responded. “Just watch out for those vigilante footstools. I’ve heard they’ve been causing all sorts of mayhem lately. Got caught up with the wrong crowd…Sad, really.”

  I feigned a gasp. “No! Not the footstools…Alas, what is this world coming to? And to think they used to be such good kids. I blame those hedonistic barstools. Horrible influences they are.”

  There was less couch than I’d initially thought. And as I sat down, I found myself gripping the edge to allow enough room for Blake to sit. His larger, muscular body naturally took up more room, causing our bodies to press together, his becoming noticeably tenser.

  “I know you’re digging the very retro floral design on this bad boy,” I teased. “I wonder what they’d think about me moving this into the chic sitting room back at headquarters.”

  He smiled. “Kara would have a stroke.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, patting the cushion. “She has character.” I balanced the doughnut box on my lap, selecting one that appeared to encase some sort of jelly.

  “Don’t you want any?” I asked. The flustered visage returned to his face. “Blake, are you all right?’

  “Wha…yeah…super.”

  There was something he wasn’t telling me, a secret betrayed by his nervous demeanor. Nervous about what? Potentially having to face The Man in Black with me as his new partner? To tell the truth, I was nervous as hell over that prospect, too. No. It had to be much bigger than that. Something was swirling around inside his head, and I wondered whether I should try to pry it out or mind my own business. I decided that the latter seemed like the best option for the time being.

  Blake grabbed a powdered sugar doughnut. Taking a bite, he stared off into oblivion. “I have a wig,” he finally uttered between bites.

  “Really? I never noticed before.”

  “No…not me…I bought a wig for you to wear along with street clothes for you to put on over your suit. You’re going to be a blonde today, if you don’t mind.”

  “I hear they have more fun.”

  “No. They’re kind of a drag, actually.”

  “Not your type, are they?”

  “You could say that.” I felt his gaze drift over to me as I swirled my coffee in my hand before taking a sip. Still feeling his gaze upon me, I turned my head to meet his stare. There was a new look in his eyes. A look of confusion, frustration, and a sort of… longing. It was the same look I used to see in Chase’s eyes. His body tensed further, and I quickly averted my eyes, prompting him to respond by practically jumping up from the couch.

  “I’m going to go get your disguise,” he announced, clearly frustrated. His footsteps fell heavy on the floor as he all but ran out of the building. What the hell had just happened? Better yet, what the hell had almost just happened? I finished my coffee, gazing out the doorway. Intermittent cars traveled down the street in the direction of Hope Memorial. It was probably close to seven in the morning, which meant that the shift change was about to take place. Blake re-entered with a plastic bag firmly in his hand.

  “Let me guess, this isn’t a headquarters-approved disguise?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I walked over to him, taking the bag from his grasp and opening it to inspect its contents. A long, lustrous blonde wig greeted me.

  “Who am I, Lady Godiva?”

  “It was the best I could do. I figured it was the furthest thing from your present appearance.”

  “I’ll have you know that under this mass of auburn lies a blonde waiting to b
e revealed.” I pulled the wig over my hair, blowing the loose strands from my eyes. “Well? Do I look unrecognizable?”

  “You look like Celaine in a blonde wig. But I think you’ll pass if you keep the bangs down and avoid making any direct eye contact with anyone. We just need to keep you away from the pediatric unit as much as possible.”

  Taking the clothing out of the bag, I slipped the oversized sweatshirt over my head. “This thing could house a small country.”

  “You’re carrying a gun. It’s not like I want you to be in something skin tight.”

  I fastened the two-sizes-too-large jeans over my waist and tucked my helmet in the holster hidden entirely under the sweatshirt. “Are we ready?”

  “As we’ll ever be, I guess.”

  We exited the building, walking amongst the few who dared to venture out into the streets. The further we traveled down those two short blocks, the more nervous I became. And those nerves intensified with each familiar landmark we passed, coming to a head as we rounded the corner of the flower shop Chase frequented, until we finally beheld Hope Memorial in all its glory. The sprawling three story hospital was a Mecca of technology comprised of various wings separated by multiple breezeways. It was going to be next to impossible to anticipate where The Man in Black would attack first. In contemplation, we strolled up the shrubbery-lined sidewalk, following it as it led the way to the main entrance.

  “My guess is that I’m going to have to enter the ventilation system from some access point in the boiler room,” I mused, keeping stride with Blake.

  “I’m betting that would be a good guess.”

  “Any guesses as to where he may strike?”

  “He thrives on shock values and death tolls, so my guess is either the intensive care unit or the maternity ward.”

  “They’re on opposite ends of the building.”

  “That’s why there are two of us. My guess is that pediatrics is near the maternity ward?”

  “We have a winner.”

  “Well, then, I’ll scout around the maternity ward and you can take the intensive care unit.” Blake reached into his pocket from where he retrieved a small steno pad and pen. “Map, please,” he said, handing them to me.