by D. C. Gomez
“Bart, tell me you found him.” I had Bartholomew on the speaker system in the truck. We were hoping he had good news, because we had reached Ladybug and the area was deserted.
“I tapped into one of the satellites, but I’m only getting vague information. I could send the drone out.” If Bartholomew wasn’t picking up something concrete with all his toys, it was not a good sign.
“No, we don’t have time to wait. What do you have?”
“In your area, I got two bodies about one kilometer heading east from your direction.” I started playing with the GPS in the truck to see what the terrain was in that direction.
“Isis, the cliffs are in that directions.” Bob said faster than I could find it. “What’s your fastest run?”
“Not pushing it, about a seven-minute mile.” It wasn’t Olympic running, but for being late twenties, I was ecstatic about it.
“OK, we’re about point six-two miles away. You need to push it. Leave the guns and the machete; I’ll be right behind you. If you’re right, it might be too late for Eugene.”
Bob’s words were hard to handle. I liked Eugene; he was becoming family. I took a deep breath; we had no time to panic. I nodded to Bob, left everything in Storm that would slow me down and jumped out.
My sense of direction was always pretty good, but recently it was amazing. Constantine’s theory was that Death’s gift was augmenting all my talents. That was a creepy notion, but today I was praying he was right. I oriented myself and took off. I needed to run over half a mile in under three minutes through rough terrain. I wasn’t sure if I needed to pray to God or Death, but I needed speed.
I knew I was flying, but those were the longest seconds of my life. My lungs were burning. I felt the wind beating on my face and the branches cutting into any bare piece of skin they could find, but I couldn’t stop. I jumped over logs and took turns sharper than my mind believed possible. When I finally burst through the trees into a clearing, the accountant was pushing Eugene off the cliff.
“Noooo!” I screamed. I was running toward the cliff before I could stop crying. The accountant was slipping away.
“What would you do, little girl? Save your friend or get me? It’s all about the job, you know.”
Did she think there was an option here? I kept moving toward the cliff as she walked away.
Eugene was dangling from a rope. The rope was tied to some limb that was slowly breaking. This chick had some serious issues. It wasn’t enough to hurt people; she wanted to play with them before she killed them. Maybe she was part cat? I stopped wondering about the insanities of the accountant and grabbed the rope before it broke. Eugene was flailing like a madman. I couldn’t pull him up; he was a lot heavier than he looked.
“Eugene, stop shaking,” I yelled down at him. “I can’t get a grip on this rope.”
“Isis, is that you? I’m going to die!” He screamed the last part. It was a good thing he wasn’t next to me because I had the urge to slap him.
“Eugene, shut up! You’re not going to die. Stop shaking so I can pull you up.”
I was losing ground. I had no traction, and I was getting tired. Maybe I needed to add strength training to my running regiment.
“Isis, where are you?” I heard Bob’s voice from behind.
“Bob, over here! Hurry, I need help.” After so many near-death experiences I was no longer ashamed to ask for help.
Bob rushed out of the wooded area and came sprinting over to me. He was out of breath and sweating like crazy. After this, I was sure Constantine was adding more running to poor Bob’s life. I felt terrible for him. He tossed the rifles over his shoulders and grabbed the rope.
“I got him. Did you see the accountant?”
We were slowly pulling Eugene up.
“Yeah, she went north,” I told him as we pulled.
“Good. Go after her. I got Eugene.”
I wasn’t sure how he did it without dropping the rope, but he managed to pass me my M16. “Are you sure?” I didn’t want to leave them alone. Bob just gave me a glare, and I took off.
Fortunately for me, the accountant was a little narcissistic and underestimated people. She wasn’t moving very quickly. I was able to catch up with her at another parking area in the park.
“Stop!”
She had reached her vehicle, a very sensible Nissan.
“Well, look at you. Still doing the dirty work for Death’s Intern.” She had a smirk on her face.
“What? Woman, please. I’m the intern.”
Her mocking smile turned to surprise at my words. “Now that is delightful news. I’m impressed. Hearing Pestilence talked about her sister, I figured she was just as bad as her. Maybe all is not lost.” She was inspecting me up and down as she spoke.
“I’ll make sure to pass the news to Death.” I refused to lower the rifle.
“It’s a shame you will die, but Pestilence will know she made a mistake by passing me over twice. She’ll beg me to come back. I’m the better intern.” She was truly demented.
“Lady, we need your formula, so step away from the car.”
She laughed at me. “Or else what? What are you going to do, kill me?”
The accountant laughed again and took off. I wasn’t sure what to do I had left my paint gun in Storm, so I took a couple of shots at the back window with my M16. The glass exploded, but she kept driving. By the time my brain started functioning, I had started shooting at the tires. It was too late; she was gone. Oh God, what have I done? I dropped to the ground shaking. I had a panic attack, and I couldn’t calm down. I closed my eyes, feeling my throat constricting. I was afraid I was going to pass out.
“Easy now, Isis. Breathe. Breathe, sweetie.”
I felt arms wrapping me in a hug. Tears were running down my face. Had I doomed Texarkana? The hands kept soothing my back and whispering to breathe. Slowly my heart slowed down, and I looked up at the person holding me. For a moment, I thought it was my mother.
“Death, what are you doing here?” My voice was trembling and sounded distant. Now I was embarrassed; my boss had seen me fail.
“Making sure you don’t give yourself a heart attack.” She was smiling at me. She took a handkerchief from somewhere in her suit.
“I failed. I had her, and I failed. I couldn’t shoot her. We’re running out of time, and I couldn’t take her out.” I was crying again, and this time I didn’t care.
“Isis, dear, your job is not to kill people. That’s not why I picked you.” I tried to breathe in between sobs. “Do you know why I picked you?” She asked me in the softest voice I have ever heard.
“’Cause I killed Teck,” I replied, feeling so useless and guilty.
“No, silly. That made you take the job. I picked you because you love people. You care about those around you with a passion that goes beyond nature.”
I was pretty sure I was in shock because I wasn’t following Death’s words. I was a loner. What was she talking about?
“Isis, the reason you don’t let people in is that you are afraid to lose them.” OK, was Death reading my mind? “Isis, I picked you because you believe in the goodness of humanity. If I wanted a killer, I’d have plenty of options. Now stop beating yourself up. You’ll see her again, and a solution will appear. Killing her is not the way.” Death hugged me tight and kissed my forehead. “Now you better get back to those boys before they hurt themselves. You’re the glue that holds them together.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but Death dragged me up to my feet. Before I could speak, she wiped away my tears and turned me around. She gave me a little push, probably because I wasn’t moving and sent me down the path again. I looked back to thank her, and she was gone. I took a few calming breaths and started jogging back. This time at a more leisurely pace. I wasn’t sure what I was going to tell Eugene and Bob.
By the t
ime I got back, I didn’t have time to wonder what to say. Eugene was on the ground, freaking out. He was wailing and twitching like he was having an epileptic seizure. I ran over and dropped next to him. Bob looked at me in panic.
“What happened?” I asked Bob, who looked distressed.
Eugene grabbed my hand in pure horror. “Isis, I’m dying. She forced me to eat pies. I’m not going to make it. She gave me a triple dose of her regular formula.”
Eugene was back at twitching. I looked over at Bob, and he was holding a picnic basket. He mouthed back to me, “Pies.”
“Eugene, aren’t you immune to all plagues?” I asked him.
He stopped moving, his eyes rolled back, and I was afraid he had died. Then he sat up and looked straight at me. I was ready to bolt if he turned super zombie.
“Oh yeah.” He slapped his forehead with his hand. “I forgot. It was probably the stress of being pushed off the cliff.” Eugene gave me a huge smile. Bob slapped him over the head—gently, just to make a point. “Ouch. What was that for?”
“For all the theatrics.” Bob had a point. Eugene did an excellent imitation of the dying cockroach act.
“It could happen to the best of us,” Eugene said with a gorgeous smiled. Bob shook his head, and I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I could handle being the glue to all those dysfunctional souls. My heart was not strong enough.
“On a positive note, you got plenty of samples now.” I pointed to the basket Bob was holding.
“That is true. By the way, I understand why people are going crazy over those things. They are delicious. She really could have a career in catering.”
Eugene had lost his mind. I got up from the ground and pulled him with me.
“We’re running out of time, and you have a plague to kill. Let’s go.” I brushed off some all the grass and leaves Eugene had managed to cover himself in. He was not getting in one of our vehicles that dirty.
“Yes, can I drive?” Eugene asked.
“Nope.” Bob and I said simultaneously.
“Can I have back my keys?” Eugene looked like he was pouting when he handed me my keys, but it didn’t last long. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll take the weapons; you take Eugene,” Bob told me. I handed him my M16, and he handed Eugene the basket. “Now that we know they won’t kill you, don’t eat the plague, Eugene. I’m heading to check on Shorty and the cleanup of the apartment.”
“Sounds like a plan.” We started walking back toward our vehicles. I was keeping a close eye on Eugene. Bob was right. He did look like he wanted to eat the pies.
“Give me that basket.” I took the temptation away.
Eugene smiled sheepishly, and I shook my head.
Chapter 30
By the time we made it back to Reapers, I was drained. The adrenaline from the morning wore off, and I was dragging. Eugene wasn’t looking any better. His near-death experience had him dragging too, not to mention he was covered in dirt and leaves. I apparently did a horrible job of wiping him down. It wasn’t my fault; a person can collect a lot of dirt when they flop around like a dead fish in the soil. My legs were sore going up the stairs. I needed a long bath and probably a shake if I wanted to be functioning again.
“Wow, you look like hell,” yelled Constantine as we walked in.
“Nice to see you too, Constantine,” Eugene said from behind me.
“Wow, you look even worse,” Constantine told Eugene. I turned around and laughed at him. Eugene stuck out his tongue at me. Oh yeah, he was officially family.
I walked straight to the couch and dropped down. Eugene decided to stay near the kitchen area, trying to avoid dragging dirt everywhere. Bartholomew was on his computer, typing away. He finally looked my way, and then he looked Eugene over.
“Don’t believe Constantine. You don’t look that bad. Eugene, on the other hand, looks like roadkill.” Bartholomew looked at Eugene one more time and shook his head. “I ordered pizzas from Dominos. In the oven, grab some food. Do you need me to get you some?” He asked me softly.
“No thank you, honey. I got it.” I hauled myself out of the couch. I couldn’t let him know how tired I was. We all couldn’t look hopelessly defeated.
Eugene looked so lost, I felt bad. I hadn’t realized he didn’t know his way around our kitchen. I walked around him and pulled a couple of plates from the cupboard. I grabbed the pizzas from the oven and removed drinks from the fridge. Bartholomew wasn’t kidding; he had ordered eight pizzas. Granted they were gluten-free, which meant they were all small. Still, that meant we had at least a pie per person and leftovers.
“Bart, are we expecting visitors?” I asked him as I pointed to the food.
“Not really. I was hungry, and everything sounded delicious, so I ordered one of everything. We got chicken wings in the microwave as well.” I had to laugh. That was the reason Bartholomew and Constantine were not in charge of cooking or groceries. Between the two of them, we got pounds of meat but no side dishes to go with them.
“Fair enough.” I smiled back at Bartholomew, who was blushing. “Eugene, you got plenty of options. Here’s a plate. Grab as much as you like.” I placed a Dr. Pepper in front of him, and Eugene looked like he was in heaven.
I grabbed a couple of slices of the veggie pizza and a shake and headed back to the couch. Eugene took a chair at the table next to Constantine. Constantine was looking around the room, a little concerned.
“Isis, where did you leave Bob?” he finally asked.
“He went to check on Shorty and the cleanup of the apartment. At least that’s what he told me.” I answered him in between mouthfuls.
“You don’t sound too convinced,” Constantine said very suspiciously.
“I’m just saying. You know Bob. He’ll start in one location and end up all the way across town. So who knows where he’ll go?” I also did not want to share the fact I was sure Bob was checking on the teenagers in the other apartment. Bob believed he was given a second chance at life, and he was all about paying it forward. Even if the people were not ready for it.
“That’s a good point,” Constantine replied. “So please tell me you at least found something besides dirt and leaves.” He walked over to Eugene and swatted a leaf from his hair. Eugene tried to duck, but Constantine was quicker.
“We got pies,” I told him as cheerfully as possible.
“On purpose?” Bartholomew asked.
“Not for us, Bart. We got fried pies from the accountant,” I explained quickly.
“OK. I was wondering, since when were pies that exciting.”
I laughed at Bartholomew. Since Bob started cooking, nobody in the house missed gluten. So pies were no longer a big deal for Bartholomew. Bob made a gluten-free version of everything.
“I will start on those as soon as I’m done eating and take a shower. I’m afraid I’ll get dirt in my samples,” Eugene said in between bites. “Besides, I have never been so dirty in all my life. I’m even itchy.”
“Let me go shower before I go crazy. I’m taking more pizza with me.” He piled more slices on his plate.
“We got more than we need, so take more. Just remember, don’t eat the evidence.”
“Not a problem.“ Eugene grabbed his plate, the basket, and his Dr. Pepper, and headed out the door. I wasn’t sure how he was carrying everything, but he managed not to drop anything.
“I’m going to head downstairs as well. Doing one more drill with my robot before tomorrow.” Bartholomew jumped up from his seat and ran out the door. I watched him go as I chewed my pizza.
“What’s wrong?”
I hadn’t heard Constantine sneak by. He jumped on top of the headrest of the couch and was staring down at me. This was probably how those poor patients at the shrink’s offices felt—very small and scrutinized.
“Nothing, why?” I replied, without meeting h
is eyes.
“Right. I know your nothing look, Isis, and this isn’t it. Spill it before I jump on you and make you talk.”
That sounded painful. Constantine was fifteen pounds of pure muscle. If he jumped on me, those tiny paws of his would feel like steel columns landing on your chest. I took a deep breath before talking and jumped on the couch.
“I had her, Constantine. I had the accountant in my sight, and I couldn’t shoot her,” I told him without looking at him.
“Isis, since when do you go around shooting people?” Constantine asked me. He was still staring at me, and I was afraid to hold his gaze for too long.
“Constantine, maybe if I had shot her, all of this would be over. Ana wouldn’t be dying downstairs, kids wouldn’t be fighting one another, and Father Francis could have his church back.” I knew I was rambling, but the words were pouring out.
“Isis, please. Just listen to yourself for a minute. This woman has been planning this for months. The damage is done. Now she is just assessing her work. You shooting her was not going to make Ana or Joe better.” Constantine was glaring at me.
“Constantine, what would happen if I freeze when it matters?” I didn’t want to start crying again, but I was close.
“We were not looking for an assassin for this job. Anybody can pull the trigger of a gun. That doesn’t take skill. Saving a life, helping a soul, caring for people—that is a rare gift.” Constantine was still looking at me, but a least he wasn’t glaring.
“Death said something similar,” I said, almost in a whisper.
“You talked to the big boss, yet you still don’t believe?” Constantine was shaking his head as he spoke.
