Fury

by Steven James

  “What car?”

  “Yeah, I was gonna tell you, they found a sedan down the street from my house. Someone left it there. I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing, but my mom did say she heard it was reported stolen from Duluth.”

  But Mr. Zacharias didn’t abandon the car there. He drove away.

  Unless he didn’t.

  Unless you imagined it all and you left the car there.

  “Wait,” Kyle said to Daniel. “You spoke with Mr. Zacharias on Larry’s phone when we were driving back to Beldon.”

  “There you go.” Mia was busy shaking a few persistently clingy globs of snow off her boot. “There’ll be a record of it.”

  “Dr. Fromke destroyed that phone at the cabin,” Daniel noted.

  “But the phone company would have archives of the call, right?”

  “Not if Mr. Zacharias erased them. If he’s good enough to hack in and change security camera footage, I’m guessing he could alter or delete a few phone records, no big deal.”

  If he was real at all.

  Rather than taking things any further in that direction, Kyle chose to change the subject and asked Daniel how his dad was doing.

  “Better. Right now he’s talking with my mom. It seems like things might be heading in the right direction. I’m giving them some time to sort things through.”

  “You think she’ll come back?”

  “Yeah. I think she might.”

  “Huh—Oh.” Kyle held up his car keys. “The things you asked me to bring over are in the trunk. You want me to grab ’em?”

  “I’ll get them. Do you mind?”

  “No.” Kyle handed over his keys. “We’ll just chillify here, wait for you.”

  “Did you just say ‘chillify’?” Nicole asked.

  “It’s his new thingazoid,” Daniel explained.

  “Oh. Gotcha.”

  Since Daniel’s phone had been found covered in blood at the scene of his dad’s disappearance, it was still in the police evidence room, but he’d been using Nicole’s for the day to talk with his mom, and now a text came through.

  He showed her the screen. “No big deal,” she said. “It’s just Gina. I’ll text her back later.”

  He pocketed her phone again.

  Kyle told him where he’d parked, although with the size of the parking lot that probably wasn’t necessary.

  Daniel told Nicole he’d see her in a bit, and then headed out the door.

  The afternoon was fading away, the sun barely visible on the horizon.

  As he walked toward Kyle’s Mustang, he thought about all that had happened this week, how things were connected there, just beneath the surface, how all the puzzle pieces locked together in a way that he never would have guessed, but that made sense now when he looked back on them.

  He thought of Malcolm Zacharias, of Detective Poehlman, and—

  Nicole’s phone vibrated. He checked.

  A text: Answer this call, Daniel.

  While he was trying to figure out what that was about, the phone rang from an unknown number.

  Daniel tapped the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Daniel.”

  It’s him.

  “Mr. Zacharias. What did you do? They have video footage that shows it was just me leaving the hospital in Duluth.”

  “How hard do you really think it is to change some footage at a state mental hospital?”

  “You’re saying you hacked in and altered it? That’s impossible.”

  “Not with the technology I have access to.”

  He knows you have her phone. How does he know that? Is he close by?

  Daniel scanned the parking lot, but didn’t see Mr. Zacharias anywhere. “But the video shows me going to the driver’s side of the car.”

  “The wonders of CGI.”

  “And the security guard—what’d you do? Pay him off?”

  “His daughter’s very sick. The money is going to a good cause.”

  “And I’m guessing the phone records are—”

  “Expunged. Yes.”

  Daniel didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved talking with Mr. Zacharias right now.

  He glanced at the phone’s screen and saw that there really was a call coming through.

  Okay, at least this is happening right now.

  At least this is real.

  Daniel asked, “How did Hollister get away from you, anyway? I mean, he was a killer. You wouldn’t have just set him free from the institute and then let him go, right?”

  “He was more clever than I thought.” Mr. Zacharias left it at that.

  “And you didn’t know he would go to Dr. Fromke?”

  “I had no idea. I wasn’t aware of their connection to each other.”

  “But why did Dr. Fromke help him?”

  “That, I don’t know. And, unfortunately, from what I understand, he’s not being very forthcoming.”

  As they spoke, Daniel was turning in a slow circle, looking in every direction, but he didn’t see Mr. Zacharias anywhere. “But it looks like you got what you wanted. The institute was destroyed.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Did you do that? Did you blow it up?”

  “I wish I could take credit for it, but it wasn’t me.”

  Still no sign of anyone.

  “I need to ask you something, Mr. Zacharias.”

  “Yes?”

  “Which wolf are you?”

  “Which wolf?”

  “There’s this story my dad told me once—that there are two wolves battling it out inside everyone’s heart: one good, one bad. And the one who wins is the one—”

  “You feed the most.”

  “You’ve heard the story too.”

  “Yes.”

  “So? Which one are you?”

  “Whichever one I need to be to get the job done.”

  “What job?”

  “Recruitment.”

  “Recruitment?”

  That’s right, remember? He came here to meet with you, to ask you to help him.

  “They think I’m just imagining you,” Daniel said.

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  No reply.

  “Mr. Zacharias?”

  Are you real? he thought.

  “Are you there?” he said.

  The line was dead.

  Of course it is. Because he doesn’t exist. He’s—

  As Daniel stared at the screen, the record of the call disappeared before his eyes.

  He scrolled over to see the list of recent calls. Nothing showed up.

  Nicole was approaching the car, sketchbook in hand. “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  “Not completely.”

  “You were on the phone,” she observed.

  “It was him. Mr. Zacharias.”

  “Oh.” He couldn’t read her tone of voice. “What did he say?”

  “That he’s a recruiter.” Daniel took a deep breath. “Nicole, tell me I’m not going crazy.”

  “You’re not going crazy.”

  “Okay, well . . . Hmm . . .”

  “What?”

  “That didn’t help as much as I was hoping it would.”

  Let her open her presents. Get your mind off everything that’s been going on.

  He reached into his pocket, drew out an envelope, and handed it to her. “Here. Do this one first.”

  “What is it?”

  “Your present—well, part of it.”

  “You want to open presents here? In the parking lot?”

  “Sure. Why not? Why wait?”

  “Um, okay. I do like present opening.”

  “I know.”

  She set down her sketchbook, opened the envelope, and unfolded the sheet of paper he’d slipped inside it.

  “A coupon for ‘Free snow anaconda lessons.’ Well, I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “It’s good for a year,” Daniel pointed out helpfully. “I kee
p the class size small for more individualized attention.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. I like instruction to be one-on-one.”

  She looked at him slyly. “So do I.”

  He unlocked the trunk and took out the two gifts Kyle had placed in there.

  “Open the next one.”

  He gave it to her: a box about as long as a shoebox but only half as wide, and rather inelegantly wrapped in a brown paper bag held in place with duct tape.

  “Kyle wrapped it for me.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  She unfolded the paper bag carefully, as if she were trying to protect it so that it could be used again, though with that much tape, Daniel doubted that was ever going to happen.

  When she got to the box she opened it and lifted out the contents. “You got me a one-armed Batman doll.”

  “Action figure, actually.”

  “Oh. Right. Is this the one from your bedroom?”

  “No, Kyle found it for me today. I’m guessing Walmart.”

  “And you had him tear the arm off?”

  “Yup. It’s so your doll, Rebecca, won’t be lonely.”

  “That’s thoughtful. It’s sweet. It really is.”

  “And number three.” He handed her the last one. “Open it.”

  “Hmm . . . It looks like it’s about the right size for being a sketchbook.” She held it up to her ear and shook it. “Sounds like a sketchbook.” She sniffed it. “Smells like a sketchbook.”

  “Open it.”

  She did.

  “A new sketchbook.”

  “You didn’t see that coming either did you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “This was your original present. I saw that your other sketchbook was getting toward the end and it works out well because I think it’s time to retire the one with the demon in it.”

  “Agreed. Which brings me to the present I got for you.”

  She handed him the sketchbook she’d brought outside with her.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s my drawings. It’s for you. I ripped the demon one out.”

  “You’re giving me your . . . I can’t take this. Seriously, it’s—”

  She placed a gentle finger against his lips to quiet him. “You’re the most special guy in the world to me. It’s only right that you should have my most special drawings.”

  He set all the gifts on the roof of the car.

  She looked at him curiously. “What are you doing?”

  “The sun just went down over the trees.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Remember when we were standing under the Northern Lights the other night?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then when they went away we were alone under the starlight and we got interrupted?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what we were about to do?”

  “This?” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

  “More like this,” he said, and gave her a kiss that was not quite so quick, and was much more deserving of one shared beneath a canopy of stars.

  EPILOGUE

  Dr. Fromke lay in his hospital bed, his wrists handcuffed to the frame.

  He thought of the irony of it—just a few days ago Daniel had been committed to a psychiatric facility. He was the one restrained, the one under guard, and now, he was the one who was free.

  The tables had turned.

  But they were going to turn again.

  Dr. Fromke was already planning his escape.

  He knew that his room was being guarded by law enforcement. So far he’d put off answering any of their questions. There was a lot for them to sort through and with his broken leg, the gunshot wound and the sliced foot, they would have to take some time patching him up before transporting him anywhere.

  And it would be much easier to escape from a hospital room than a prison cell.

  The door opened and another doctor came in. The third one that day.

  Enough with all the different doctors.

  This one looked like he was in his mid-sixties and hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep last night.

  After quietly looking over the charts, he said, “So, I understand you shot Brandon Hollister?”

  Dr. Fromke wasn’t about to confess to anything, especially not to a man who might be an undercover cop. He remained quiet.

  “I should thank you for that.” The doctor set down the charts. “But I have to ask you, did he say anything about me?”

  “What?”

  “Did he say anything about me? About what happened at the institute?”

  Now that he took a more careful look, Dr. Fromke did recognize this man from Hollister’s description.

  It’s the guy who was in charge of the research over at the Traybor Institute. The guy who tortured Brandon, made it seem like he was suffering weeks of solitary confinement.

  “No,” Dr. Fromke lied. “I have no idea who you are.”

  The man tapped a finger against the air. “And see, I’m good at telling when people are lying. And I can tell you’re not being truthful with me.” He detached the bag of Dr. Fromke’s IV.

  “What are you doing?”

  But rather than answer, he just worked on the IV bag, changing the drug it would be administering. “I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

  “Stop.” Dr. Fromke tried to lift his hands but his wrists were securely cuffed.

  “I should be thanking you for shooting inmate 176235. But I don’t like loose ends, and that’s what you’re looking like to me.”

  This is not happening. This is not—

  Dr. Waxford reconnected the IV bag, sending the new drug mixture into Dr. Fromke’s arm.

  He started feeling sleepy almost right away.

  “Hey!” He called to the officer guarding his door. “Come in here! He’s trying to drug me!”

  Whoever was stationed in the hallway did not respond.

  “We’re going to transfer you to a new facility, Dr. Fromke. I have some tests I’d like to perform. It’s all in the name of justice for what you did to those people in the barn. From what I hear there were seven victims. Even with my techniques, this might take a while.”

  Dr. Fromke called more loudly for the officer guarding his room.

  And finally a man poked his head in.

  It was the detective who’d been interrogating him earlier.

  “Thank God, you’re—” Dr. Fromke began.

  “The paperwork is all set, Dr. Waxford,” he said.

  “Thank you, Detective Poehlman.” He patted Dr. Fromke’s arm. “Don’t fight the drowsiness, now. Don’t let that concern you. When you wake up you won’t be in pain. You’ll just be alone. For a long, long time you get to be alone.”

  From where he sat hidden in the parked car at the other end of the parking lot, Malcolm Zacharias watched as Daniel and Nicole gathered up their gifts and went back into the hospital.

  He needed to make sure that he remained a ghost, even if it meant Daniel had to stay in the dark about whether or not he was real.

  Yes.

  Daniel had the gift.

  His blurs gave him insights no one else could understand.

  Well, perhaps that wasn’t quite true.

  The three other teens Malcolm had already recruited might understand, once he got them all together at the facility in Georgia.

  He made the call to his contact person.

  Yes, things were about to get very interesting, now that they had four of them to work with.

  WATCH FOR

  CURSE

  THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THE BLUR TRILOGY

  COMING IN SPRING 2016

  Thanks and Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Liesl, Pam, Trinity, Jim, Ariel, the Northern Great Lakes Visitor Center, Erik, Dr. Huhn, Dr. Abner, Dave Strzok, Susanna, Meg, Courtney, Anna, Alex McReynolds, Katrina Johnson, John-Phillip Abner, and Eden Huhn.

  Photo: Emily Hand © 2014
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  STEVEN JAMES

  Best known for his high-octane thrillers, Steven James is the award-winning author of eleven suspense novels. The Blur Trilogy is his first mystery series for teens. Steven has taught creative writing around the world and loves rock climbing, science fiction movies and chicken fajitas.