No Choice

by Mel Todd

  "Haven't died yet, so I figure damn good." Jeremiah turned to look at McKenna. "So you're this mythical partner he talks about. How do you put up with this lout?"

  "Lots of patience and caffeine," she replied almost without thinking, a smile at the corner of her lips.

  "Ha! A mouth on you. I always liked women with spunk." Casting his glance back at JD. "What makes you drag your sorry ass here this evening?"

  "Wanted to know if you still wanted to sell this dung heap. Kenna here might be in the market for a house and a piece of land."

  "Is that so? What do you want it for?"

  Do I tell him the truth or fudge?

  The idea of lying to this man just seemed wrong, so she shrugged and told the truth. Not like most of the world didn't know who she was.

  “I’m the cop that shifted on video. Since then my welcome has been a bit less than warm. I need to find a home, someplace I can make a refuge. I don’t know what’s coming up I suspect I’ll be a target. I’m too visible not to. I like the idea of land, maybe a chance to run as an animal.”

  Jeremiah tilted his head one way then the next. It felt like he sized her up.

  “Huh. Well, come on in then. Might as well know what you are getting.” He turned, pulled open the door, and walked inside, not bothering to see if they were going to follow.

  She darted a glance at JD who shrugged and waved her inside. Hoping she didn’t get swamped with old folks home smell, her newly sensitive nose really couldn’t handle that, she followed him inside.

  Two steps in she paused, the scents that surrounded her were an oil, woody, and the faintest of beeswax. As she walked in she saw why. The place was filled with hardwood floors, heavy wood furniture that gleamed with care, and mini-blinds on the windows. Jeremiah led them into the kitchen, while not top notch modern, it had been remodeled in the 2000’s. No harvest gold, or avocado green. McKenna let loose a sigh of relief.

  Jeremiah had sharp ears because he barked out a laugh. “No, the inside doesn’t match the out. I had this place updated a decade ago. I like microwaves, but the range is natural gas. Runs off a tank out back. I get it filled about twice a year.” He pulled out three glasses from the cupboard and poured out sun tea for all of them and nodded.

  “Keep walking, deck is through the living room.”

  JD grabbed two of the glasses as McKenna followed Jeremiah’s instructions and walked through a nice kitchen nook with a breakfast bar with four stools, into a large living room with a wood stove in one corner and sliding glass door at the far end.

  The place while not modern called to her, and she could see herself living here. She’d been living like a monk for the last few years, and scholarships had paid for college, and she’d invested most of her money, playing with stocks, so she had the money. She took a seat on the large deck on that back and that looked out to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's, the land house free for a few miles from this vantage point.

  Jeremiah dropped into a seat and speared her with that look. “I’ll be straight, missy. I don’t want to sell.” That caused McKenna to flinch and dart a look at JD who frowned, but didn’t say anything. “But I don’t have much of a choice. I’m 94 years old, I have an inoperable brain tumor and no desire to go through the hell they call chemo. My granddaughter wants me to live with her until I can’t anymore. I figure I’ve got about six months more and I won’t be me no more. But I’ll burn in hell first before I let this house where I married my wife, Octavia, raised my kids, and buried Octavia, get bulldozed and turned into a bunch of shroom houses. I saw that vid of you. My great granddaughter thinks you are the best thing since Wonder Woman, and that is saying something. So, I’d rather you have this place and make it a refuge, than any rich ass developer. So, let’s bargain.”

  His white teeth cut through the blackness of his face. McKenna laughed, and they started to talk money, plans, and maybe she let herself hope for a bit.

  They were still hammering out details when Jeremiah winced, rubbing his head. “Damn headaches. What made me finally go to the doctor in the first place.”

  McKenna frowned. “Do we need to leave?”

  “Nah. But I probably need to call my Olivette, my granddaughter. Give me a few minutes.”

  He walked into the kitchen, slow but still functioning and McKenna felt a pang of sorrow.

  “I like him.”

  JD nodded. “Me too. Hummer got a flat outside his place and he came out to talk to me while I changed it. That was a pain in the neck. Got roadside assistance next day. Much easier with a tow truck. We became friends. I’ll miss him. But having you live this close to me will be nice.”

  “Yeah.” She looked out at the view and something tight inside her unwound a bit. “This would be a good place to have barbecues.”

  “Yes! I love grilling. I claim grill duty.” McKenna laughed. Her phone pinged at her and she went to grab it.

  *Hey, McKenna. How goes?*

  McKenna smiled and looked around the place. The image of two dark haired kids running around it flickered across her mind.

  *Good. Actually looking at a house to buy. Has land.*

  *Wonderful I know I love our house, though wish it had more land.*

  *Yeah. Dinner tomorrow? JD and me?*

  *Give me a minute*

  The text pinged and there wasn’t a response. McKenna shrugged and put her phone back away.

  “Anything interesting?” JD asked finishing off his ice tea.

  “Maybe, just don’t make plans for tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, yes, let me check my social schedule.” He rolled his eyes. “My social life is almost as non-existent as yours.”

  “Almost?” McKenna teased back.

  “Yes almost. I at least have lifting competitions. Well I used too. Still don’t know if I’ll keep that up with these changes.”

  “Ah. Yeah.” She fell silent as Jeremiah came back out.

  “So, you interested in renting this place for a while?”

  “I’m interested in buying?” She responded confused.

  “Yeah, I know. But my daughter got some test results and they don’t think I can be alone any longer. And since the whole world has changed, I can’t just offer you my hand and shake on it anymore. Figure legal crap will take a few weeks and well, I don’t want this place to end up bulldozed. So want to rent for a month or two until we can get all the selling stuff figured out?”

  McKenna felt her heat leap.

  That will solve some of my problems. Give me a place to live and time to get the funding nailed down.

  “That would be perfect. When?”

  “I’ll lay money my Olivette will have me out of here in forty-eight hours.” His voice held wry humor and deep love. “JD, you mind doing some writing and help us draw up a contract?”

  It took them two hours and Olivette showed up thirty minutes in. But by the time they were done she had copies of the keys and Olivette promised the house was hers with most of the furnishings and she could move in by Friday. Her love for her grandfather was clear, and McKenna was elated that something good was going on in her life. She would have a place to rent and could slowly move out of her current apartment and give the notice she needed. It meant she’d be paying rent in two places for a month, but she could do that. It would give her time to get this place updated to what she wanted. She liked the furniture, but curtains and some brighter colors would help.

  As they walked out to the car, her mood light, she asked JD, “So what color should I paint the house?”

  Chapter 21 - Premeditated

  The Hartsfield Jackson Airport was shut down for four hours today, when a young boy, probably about seven, got scared at the security checkpoints, shifted and took off running in cheetah form through the airport. Between security chasing him, people freaking out at a juvenile cheetah rushing them, and the over reactions, thousands of people missed their flights, and the child was injured when fleeing from security chasing him. Grow up people. Kids don’
t tend to understand how to react normally. If they had cleared the mother and let her go get him all of this would have been avoided, and the child wouldn’t have been rushed to the hospital with a broken leg. Really, he turned into a cat! Where did you think the seven-year-old was hiding a bomb? ~ Harvey Klein radio show

  In the days that passed since his epiphany in the park, C-Tac researched how you conditioned people to blindly obey you, and excitement grew with the confirmation that children were easier to manipulate than adults. Now he just had to find a place to keep them, train them, and then sell them. With that idea in mind he put the word out on the streets that he wanted a self-sustained location to keep people. Everyone had assumed he meant chicks or illegals, and he didn't see any reason to dissuade them from the idea.

  His plan to get the person on the campus busted had worked perfectly and in the last few days, he’d stepped in and took over without a ripple with either the students or the boss. He made sure to keep his nose clean, and the cop in question had not been around, something big going on. The boss didn’t care as there was no proof C-Tac had anything to do with it, and he made sure no payments were missed. The boss hadn't said anything, so C-Tac figured it either had escaped his notice, doubtful, or he had no issues with it, more likely.

  Increased sales meant more profit, more trust, and more power. C-Tac had figured even if the boss didn't accept his proposal, or he couldn't find a good location, having a backup location fully stocked with supplies and damn near impossible to find, had no downsides.

  Working on some ideas for drumming up some sales from the rail yard he had the TV running in the background, listening, but not really paying attention. The boss demanded simplicity and elegance and preferred PowerPoint. It at least mean C-Tac could use a computer for more than surfing for porn, which sometimes made him think something else was going on, but mostly he enjoyed seeing his ideas in bullet points.

  The word lion caught his attention, and he turned up the volume. C-Tac sat in his chair, watching the news story about the riot and the lion. Lately with all the shifter stuff, it was better than TV. There was that chick cop again, saving the day. He admired her in a way, her poise. You had to have poise knowing everyone in the world had seen your hoo-ha, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about. Hell, she didn’t even get paid for showing off her tits. With that many views on the site she would have made a fortune per click.

  But what caught his imagination was the way people reacted when the lion roared. Fear, terror, almost uncontrollable as they fled the creator of that sound. If you owned the animal, the smart animal that could cause that reaction. You’d never have any issue with your minions. Ever.

  “Dammit, I’m sure this idea would work if I had someplace to get them trained.” He groused as he turned back to the computer, but his phone rang before he could get too deep into the sales figures for the last two weeks.

  “Talk or hang up,” he snapped as he answered. Text messages were so much easier. You didn’t need to pay attention to them until you wanted.

  “Hey, C-Tac?” A thin reedy voice said, he recognized Joli Simps one of his nickel bag dealers. Strictly small stuff, high school, nothing ever on him that qualified as a felony. Mostly he sold five dollars' worth of weed or joints. The cops never bothered cause they knew these little ones never had anything worth busting, unless they were truly stupid, in which case good riddance.

  “Yeah, what’s up Jolie.”

  “You remember you was talking about needing an out of the way place to maybe stash some people, girls even?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, got dragged to see my great gramps today, and as usual he was ranting out of his mind in the nursing home. No one pays any attention to a word he says, especially not my ma.” C-Tac rolled his eyes and wished the kid would hurry up a bit, but Jolie rambled, and derailing him only made the story last longer. “Well he started going off on this bomb shelter he bought back in the sixties, when they had all that cold war stuff going on. Started talked about how he put it at the base of the foothills, a few miles away from I-80. Talking about how it was between the two bears, and that he hid it from his greedy ex-wife by claiming it under his sister’s name. Now she died back in the seventies or maybe eighties, but it seemed awfully specific for rambles. Granted that was about an hour’s worth of rambling, interspersed with some cussing that even made me blush. But, thought I might pass it on. Don’t know if there’s anything to it though.”

  C-Tac by this point had started taking notes and thinking. “And his sister’s name?”

  “Oh, um something weird and old fashioned, Abby, Allison, no Agatha, that was it. Agatha Granges.” Jolie’s voice lit up in excitement at remembers.

  “Odds are he lost in a poker game in the eighties, but I’ll look. If it’s there, I’ll toss a reward your way.”

  “Shit, thanks, C-Tac. I gotta go, mom’s yelling for me. I’ll be by to pick up my stock tomorrow.”

  C-Tac just grunted as he hung up. Like he cared when the kid came by to pick up his weed when he paid him his cut was a much more important date.

  It took a few minutes to call up the public property records, and then search for the property, that took much longer.

  “Huh, whadda ya know.” Property owned by one Agatha Granges glowed at him from the screen with address, and the fact that if property taxes weren’t paid in the next week, it would go to auction. He glanced at the taxes and shrugged, five thousand and change.

  “I think I should go for a drive,” he commented as he stood. His little apartment lay quiet, living with people drove him nuts. The risk of them getting all holy or legal too high to tolerate. Going to his supply room, he filled a small backpack with a flashlight, some batteries, some food, and water bottles. Grabbing his jacket and keys he headed out to his little blue foreign sedan. One of the pieces of advice given to anyone who reached his level, included the fact that flashy cars from people in low class digs and clothes drew attention. Attention got you killed, one way or the other. So sock the money away, buy little things, take vacations, and act like a normal blue collar schmo.

  It took two hours to drive up there, and another half hour of hiking. Thank god for smart phones or he would have never found it. There was signal there, barely, but enough for the GPS to get him to the right place. Another ten minutes of looking and he found the entrance. Not hidden, but unless you were looking for something, you’d probably never find it.

  The lock wasn’t as old as he feared, and his old skill of stealing cars came in handy. He had it picked and pulled open the damn heavy door. A rush of stale air came out, and he stepped back coughing.

  “Might want to give it a few minutes.” While he waited he walked around, looking at how it could be defended. Middle of nowhere described this place perfectly. Even if someone escaped and ran, they’d have to head the right direction for a long while before they hit a major road or people. Which suited his purposes perfectly.

  Flipping on the flashlight, he put a rock in front of the door to make sure it didn’t close and slowly went in. The light revealed simple concrete steps that led down, and he tested each one as he went, but they seemed sound. It ended at a landing that had an open area and another door, this one a vault type that you had to turn the wheel. Looking it over, C-Tac put some muscle into it and moved it. The door needed oiling, but it unlocked and swung open, the air not all that stale. There must be an external air vent. He’d have to find that and make sure it had a good return, suffocation qualified as a nasty way to die, not to mention losing his experiment would annoy him.

  Stepping in, he flashed the light around quickly, then back again taking in every nook and cranny. As he did his smile grew wider. The light beam revealed a large room with bunk beds on the far end. A small galley kitchen to one side with a space for a table, and lots of cupboards in the kitchen for storage. There were two doors on the other side of the room. Moving over he pulled one open and saw a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink,
with a linen closet in the corner. He lifted the light to the ceiling in the bathroom and in the main room and saw lights. Was it set up to have power and running water?

  He opened the other door and grinned. A circuit box lay there, and a sump pump, an electric hot water heater, and from manuals the equipment that looked like it had never been used. A few minutes of work found the line that had been run into the room, still undamaged by time or elements.

  It would need work, but this couldn’t have been more perfect if he asked for it. Pulling out his phone he started taking notes, listing everything that needed to be done, and what supplies he would need. And who he’d need to bribe to make this property his. He had a lot of work to do. He needed to get Jolie to convince his great-granddad to sign something, not hard as the old man was off his rocker, pay off the taxes, and get the power turned back on. But one way or the other this would be a great hide out.

  He might have to eliminate Jolie at some point and make damn sure only the people he could control ever knew about this place. Making a mental note to slip Jolie something with a ‘special’ kick down the road, he kept making notes.

  On top of all that, he need to create one hell of a presentation for the boss to convince him to fund this venture. Or at the very least give him some space to pull it off.

  Chapter 22 - No Good Deed

  Public opinion is still out as to if this is a blessing or a curse, but already we are starting to hear strange stories about what were previously considered permanent injuries being healed or at least improved after that first forced change to an animal form. However, just as many people are declaring it the work of demons and declaring anyone who has the ability to change is a tool of Satan. While we know we have zealots among us, I for one am sad to already see people using this as a reason to hate and harm. I fear it won’t be long before lynch mobs are forming, not based on skin color but on an ability we still don’t know how it originated. I keep hoping we as a race are evolving, and I keep being reminded we are still Neanderthals. ~ Local conservative talk radio host