by C. A. Wilke
Color rose in the other woman’s cheeks. She wiped away a stray tear and punched in her acceptance code. “Thank you. Listen, you need anything else, you call me. I’ll do whatever I can for you.”
“You got it.”
The two said their goodbyes. Scarlett left the apartment, already thinking of other ways she might use Jules’ talents.
Chapter 24
Carl
Oh, how quickly we can forget a lover’s transgressions.
* * *
The ride back to the warehouse district was shorter than Scarlett expected. She got off the autobus at a stop just a few blocks from the apartment.
From the moment the folding doors opened and the faint acrid smell wafted to her, she knew something was wrong. Her feet set down on the concrete sidewalk and she froze. Neil!
Scarlett burst into a run. She sprinted down the street and around the corner. Still more than a block away, she glanced up and saw the black plumes. Red and blue pulsing lights highlighted the smoke.
She rounded the final corner and skidded to a halt. Where Neil’s warehouse once stood, now there was only a tower of flame and smoke. Fire crews struggled against the blaze. She watched as one crew aimed several water hoses at the inferno. Another crew ripped at the buildings surrounding the fire to keep it from spreading.
A helicopter drifted overhead. Doors on the underside of the hovering aircraft opened and a cloud of white powder tumbled into the flames.
What confused Scarlett the most was that there was a fire at all. When she left, the warehouse was empty. The small offices inside could not possibly be feeding a fire this size. Even Neil’s apartment, separated from the ground level by three feet of concrete, could not do this.
Scarlett also noticed the sour odor that came with the smoke. It was not the smell of anything in the building burning. No, this fire is specifically designed to wipe everything away. But, who started it?
Two hours later, the flames were gone and little more than smoldering chunks of red-glowing concrete remained. The last of the fire crews shot water onto the embers. She heard the sizzle and the groan of the metal as it cooled almost instantly. A cement boulder exploded from the conflicting temperatures.
The firefighters waited a few more hours until they were sure every bit of the building was out and cool. By the time they started packing up, the sun was gone and the moon was high in the sky. They had cut the power to the nearby buildings and streetlights, plunging the surrounding area into complete darkness.
Scarlett crept across the street and made her way to the rubble. From the safety of a nearby rooftop, she watched the crew make their final sweep. Earlier that morning, she had left a warehouse with a hidden underground apartment. Now, there was only a pit filled with blackened lumps of concrete and twisted metal slag.
Massive work lights illuminated the scene below. As the last of the fire crews drove off, a few men and women continued to roam the site.
Scarlett turned around and sank down. She leaned back against the short wall at the roof’s edge and stared into the night. What happened, Neil? Was someone looking for me and found you? Gods, what now?
A tear ran down her cheek. She wiped away the droplet and remembered how much of a bastard he’d been. At times, Neil was colder than ice, leaving her feeling all alone when he was right next to her. She sniffled and realized that his faults did not change her feelings for him. More tears trickled down her face, and she let them. The idea of her enemies reaching Neil had never occurred to her; he was the one person she had not been worried about. Lost in her own thoughts and despair, her eyes grew heavy. She drifted off to the sounds of the generators below.
* * *
Something slammed into Scarlett’s foot, jarring her awake.
“Eh... Wake up. What’re ya doin’ up here?”
Scarlett rubbed her eyes and blinked to adjust to the morning sunlight. “Huh?”
“I said, what’re ya doin’ up here?”
She looked up to see a burly man in a tan work shirt and denim pants. He had stringy shoulder-length hair and his nametag read “Carl.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I was watching the fire crews last night. A friend of mine I’ve not heard from in a long time used to work there. I came by to see him and saw the fire.”
The man grunted. He turned around and headed for the large air conditioning unit at the center of the roof. “Honey, I don’t know who you’s friend is, but dat place’s been empty f’ more’n fifteen years.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” Carl picked up a bucket and a large sponge. He shoved the yellow scrubber into the bucket and soapy water sloshed out.
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here.” Scarlett climbed to her feet. Muscles in her back seized, making her groan. She closed her eyes and arched her back to stretch the tender sinews. When she opened her eyes again she saw Carl setting to work.
The man cursed as he scrubbed at one of the sheet metal panels of the air conditioning unit. Beneath the dripping suds was a hastily painted bit of graffiti in red paint. She grimaced inwardly at the Carl’s misfortune.
Scarlett started toward the ladder. She glanced back over at Carl. “Sorry again.”
He waved her off with a large, soapy hand.
She reached the top bars of the ladder and stopped. “WAIT! Carl, stop.” Scarlett ran over to the man.
“Huh? What now?”
Carl continued to scrub until Scarlett snatched the sponge from his hand. “Hey, now. Quit horsin’ around. I got’s work t’ git to.” He stomped after her with a furrowed brow.
Scarlett stepped over to where she’d been sleeping. She turned around to face the air conditioner.
The big man stopped in front of her and held his hand out. “Now, gimme my sponge, lil’ girl.”
She looked up at him and placed the soapy wad in his hand. “Sorry Carl, but I had to see before you got rid of it.”
“See what?”
She stepped around his big frame and pointed at the graffiti. “That.”
Carl turned around and looked. “Look, lady. All’s I see is sum scribble a few punks lef’ fo’ me.”
Scarlett smiled. Even though the letters were in street graffiti style, she recognized them. “Sorry to break it to ya, Carl. But that’s not from a few kids. It’s a message.”
“What’re ya talkin’ about. I see this crap all d’ time. I gotta climb up here at least ev’ry month.”
She walked up to the scrawled message and ran her finger over the paint. It was still tacky. “It’s my name. And it’s fresh.”
“Huh?”
“The paint, it’s fresh, done just a few hours ago. While I was asleep right there.” She felt around the edges of the panel.
“Hey, now. What’cha doin’? Don’t go touchin’ stuffs.”
A small panel under the ‘S’ shifted a little. She reached under to push the piece up but it wouldn’t move. Scarlett crouched down on a knee and slammed the bottom of the panel with the heel of her hand.
“Hey. Cut it out. That piece don’t move.”
She slammed the edge again and it popped open.
“Aw, look. Ya’ gone and broke it,” Carl grumbled then pointed into the open panel. “Wait, wha’s that? Dat’s not s’posed to be d’ere.”
Scarlett pulled the brown-paper wrapped bundle from inside. “It’s a package.” She stood and turned around. Tears streamed down her face again. “It’s a message for me.”
Carl wrinkled his brow. “Huh? Well, wha’s it mean?”
She ran for the ladder. As she climbed onto the top rung, Carl called out again. “Hey, wait! Wha’s it mean?”
Scarlett paused. A smile split her face. “It means he’s not dead.”
Chapter 25
What Now?
Shakespeare once wrote, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Not sure that counts for me. A new name for me, means a new me.
* * *
Scarlett boarded the autob
us headed for the commercial district. She sat in the green vinyl seat, watching the buildings and people pass by. Loss, fear and joy washed over her, leaving her feeling raw.
She wasn’t sure where she was going, but the warehouse district held nothing for her anymore.
At first, Scarlett considered going back to Jules’s place. A voice in the back of her mind refreshed her memory of the danger she posed to others. Her change in appearance worked for the casual observer, but a security cam linked to a facial recognition bot program stood a better chance of seeing right through her disguise.
All of her thoughts led to one conclusion: the mission. The only way to keep her friends and family safe was to end things with Derrick and Universal Dynamics.
She shifted her position in the seat and pulled up her commpad’s display. First thing I need is an ID. A few taps on the device and the local classifieds came up. She skimmed the first few posts for the right words and phrases. Neil’s non-combat training was already proving useful.
A short while later she stepped off the bus in front of a row of aging townhouses on the outskirts of town. Two old men sat at a small table on the sidewalk playing dominoes. Scarlett checked her commpad again and confirmed she had the right location.
The coded messages told her she was looking for Miles Jameson at 809 West Cardinal. She stood in front of the walkway to the narrow building labeled 809. Two houses over, one of the men grumbled about the other man cheating.
A short, scalloped brick wall bordered the sidewalk. She started up the stone path across the neatly trimmed lawn. She stopped at the faded brown door and knocked. After a few seconds without an answer, she knocked again.
There was another long pause. Scarlett raised her hand to knock again when the shaky voice of an old woman came from the other side of the door.
“Whaddoyou want?”
This can’t be the right place. ”Um, I’m looking for Miles.”
“Ain’t noone here with that name. Go away.”
Scarlett looked down at her commpad. “I’m, uh... I’m an old friend. We went to, uh... Baskerville High together.”
“Hang on a sec.”
There was another long pause. Finally, the lock handle clicked. The thick door opened with a creak to reveal the muzzle of a forty-five caliber revolver aimed at her forehead. A very large man with deeply tanned skin held the weapon.
She looked up without moving her head. “Uh, Miles?”
The man’s head slowly turned from one side then the other. He took a step back and another equally large man with dark skin stepped forward. Powerful hands seized her shoulders and hauled her inside.
After the bright sunlight outside, the darkened interior left her seeing only shadows and outlines of shapes. The massive hands propelled her through the house. Scarlett’s first instinct was to fight back, but she knew if she did, she would never get what she came for.
Green blobs still clouded her vision when the brute yanked her to a stop in the kitchen and spun her around. Facing the large man, his sausage fingers held her firmly while another pair of hands frisked under her coat. The weight of her pistol disappeared from her back. Scarlett let out a deep sigh. Dammit. Should have thought of that.
The weapon made a thunk on a nearby table or counter. The man spun her around again.
She stood in the room with the two large men and a young boy with nearly pitch-black skin sitting at a small laminate table. Her gun sat only inches from his hand. By Scarlett’s guess he was no more than seventeen. Old, once white, now yellowed appliances sat against the far wall.
The teen ran his finger along one of the grooves on the weapon. “That’s a serious piece of hardware you have there, Missy.” His words chopped from his lips with a South African accent.
“Thanks. You Miles?”
“Maybe. Who’s asking?”
“Someone who wants to start over.”
Miles shrugged. “Don’t know what you want from me, lady. I’m just a kid.”
“I hear you help people looking to start over.”
“No idea what you mean.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Fine. My name is Scarlett. I’m looking for Miles Jameson and I need your help.”
He laughed. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, that I was this Miles person. So? Why would I care?”
“Because you make IDs and I need an ID. And, hypothetically, I might have money to pay you.”
“Okay. Well, if I were this Miles person, I think I’d be worried about not getting caught. I mean, making fake IDs is a very, very illegal thing. I could, hypothetically, get a life sentence for making a Citizen Card. How would I know I could trust you? I don’t know you. You don’t have a recommendation. How would I know you are not a pig?”
“Well...” Scarlett looked around and noticed a fourth man in a dark hallway behind Miles. Trust. A balance of force. She took a deep breath, and moved.
Scarlett leaned back into the man holding her shoulders. She stomped hard on the instep of his right foot. He let go. She chopped at the other large man’s throat, hitting just below his Adam’s apple. He stumbled back, gasping.
She spun around. Scarlett slammed her fist into the small point just below the first guard’s ribs. Air spewed from the man’s lungs and he hunched over. She grabbed his coat and yanked.
The man lunged forward. His massive form tumbled through the kitchen and into the dark hallway. He crashed into the fourth man in the shadows.
Scarlett snatched her gun from the table. As she moved, her thumb flipped the safety off and switched the weapon to plasma rounds. She slid into the metal chair opposite Miles at the table, the bridge of his nose centered in her sights. The gun made a soft whine as it powered up.
The bodyguards slowly recovered and froze. Miles held his breath.
“Let’s see…” She smiled. “How about this?”
Scarlett turned the safety back on and the plasma charge dissipated. She angled her wrist to show the side of the gun then set it on the table. “No guns, no guards. You think you can trust me now?”
“Yes.” Miles’ voice was barely more than a squeak.
“Good.”
“That was very impressive. You are very graceful.”
“Thank you. So, I’m fascinated by this setup you have. How does a kid like you get into a business like this?”
Miles’ brow wrinkled. “Hey, watch it! I’m almost seventeen. ‘Sides, what do you care?”
“I don’t. I just think it’s interesting. Now, as I said, I need a new ID.”
“Who do you want to be?” He waved off his men.
The man still recovering from the punch to the throat stepped closer. “But boss…”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Please, Pauly, if she wanted me dead, all four of us would be.”
The bodyguards disappeared into the rest of the house.
“I want to be myself.”
“Well, that’s not very productive.”
Scarlett squinted and shook her head. “Right. Uh, I don’t know. Someone without a history.”
Miles rolled his eyes again. “Fine, what’s your current name?”
She hesitated. Scarlett wasn’t sure she should tell this child her full name.
“Look, I deal in secrets. Anyway, it’s not like I keep records or anything.”
“Scarlett. Scarlett Mallack.”
The boy thought for a moment then smiled. “How fitting.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m kind of a word and name junky. Mallack comes from the ancient Hebrew word for angel.”
“So.”
“So, as I said, you’re very graceful almost like... Here, how about...” Miles grabbed a piece of wrinkled paper and scribbled something down. He twisted the paper around and slid it across the table. “...this.”
She looked down at the paper.
“Scarlet Angel?”
Chapter 26
Normalcy
I used to think I wanted to be anything bu
t ordinary. Right now, I’d take ordinary in a second.
* * *
Scarlett stared at the empty living room. The barren rectangular space gave her a strange sense of normalcy she thought she would never have again. There was no furniture or stuff to fill the room, but that didn’t matter. It was her space.
She’d spent several hours scouring the rental ads and two days walking the streets just to find the right place. In the end, she’d settled on the bottom floor apartment of a small building. There were six other units in the complex, but hers was the largest. While the other tenants all entered from one main door, Scarlett had her own entrance.
Beneath her feet, blue shag carpet squished between her toes. That definitely has to go. She thought the same thing about the pink wallpaper in the kitchen and bathroom.
As she looked at the open and empty floor a lost memory from her life as Jillian drifted back. Nearly ten years ago, she’d stood in another empty apartment thinking very similar things. That had been her first apartment on her own.
She remembered handing her first rent check to an older Indian man. Something about him seemed wise. That night he’d brought her a plate of Samosas and they played Parcheesi.
She rented the apartment because she’d just been hired to her first research assistant position. A new city with no roommates and no friends for support. But she’d made it work.
She’d made it work until... Violent images consumed the other thoughts. Scenes of a dark room and a man on top of her, grunting and thrusting, flashed through her mind.
Scarlett shivered and shook her head. She forced the memories from her mind as a wave of nausea threatened to bring up her lunch. Her hand felt the gun under her coat. The hard resolve of its steel shape reassured her. Her tears stopped and her stomach settled. She would never allow herself to become a victim like that again.
“Hey, you okay?”
Scarlett’s heart jumped. She’d forgotten the older woman was there. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just remembering something, that’s all.”
“Don’t you go blubberin’. I ain’t got time f’ that.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Kranster. I appreciate you renting the place to me.”
