Shapeless

by Glenn Bullion

  "Oh God!" Lily said, crying. "Brady, they shot you!"

  He wanted to laugh at the obvious statement, but even smiling brought too much pain. He could feel the metal in his chest and stomach.

  "Fuck! Shit!"

  She reached out to touch him, but stopped short. Even with blurred vision he could see the worry in her face. Her hands shook as she dropped her purse to the floor and rummaged inside.

  "I'll call help," she said. "Just stay still."

  "Can't," Brady said. Even speaking hurt. "No signal."

  Lily slammed the phone down in disgust after confirming his words. She crawled forward and peered around the corner, looking for the gunmen.

  "What do I do?" she said, scooting back to Brady. She held his hand. "What do you want me to do?"

  "A kiss would be nice."

  "Damnit Brady, be serious—"

  "Just hold on."

  He closed his eyes and concentrated. Normally it didn't take much effort to change shape, like a normal person waving their arms about. But with the pain he was in, the discomfort, it was like moving his arms through heavy tar.

  Slowly, his form changed. He lost his edges, his flesh and bone, going shapeless. The bullets fell through his liquid form, hitting the floor and rolling away. It took focus to pull himself back together. His body first, arms and legs. His head followed. There was a trail of blood from where Lily dragged him to safety, and he had to pull that essence back to himself as well. The clothes came last, which proved difficult. Despite the horrible situation they were in, Brady feared he'd be naked.

  Lily held up a bullet with her fingers, studying it before she stared at him. Her jaw hung open.

  "Wow," she said.

  "Crazy, right? I didn't know I could do that. I've never been shot before."

  Brady's eyes lit up as two men ran and stopped behind Lily. His body hurt, but his mind was sharp once again. They wore suits and carried guns at their sides. He reacted first, before they could even lift their arms. Brady raised his palms, one on each side of Lily's pretty head. His essence shot outward, striking the men in the face. He wrapped his mass around their noses and mouths. They struggled to breathe, clawing at what they could of Brady's arm. One of the men raised his gun, and Brady panicked. He didn't have enough strength left to form a shield around Lily.

  Luck was on his side, as he didn't have to. They fell to their knees and slumped forward. His mass returned to him, forming normal arms once again. Lily reached out and took one of their guns.

  "We have to go," she said, and took his hand.

  Brady tried to move, but it didn't quite happen. His body wasn't reacting like it should. He managed to bend in half at the waist, but it took effort to simply not fall backwards.

  "I…might need some help."

  Lily didn't hesitate. She gathered her purse and was at his side in an instant. Slipping under his left shoulder, she helped him to his feet. Brady used the wall for support until they started moving. He leaned his weight on her.

  "You're heavier than you look."

  He didn't need to see her to know she had a small smile. The irony wasn't lost on him, having his own words used against him. They stumbled toward the mall exit once again. Only a single person sprinted past, without offering to help. Brady wasn't sure he wanted to walk through the doors again, but they didn't have a choice.

  They moved in between cars and people. The story being spread morphed from a wild bear to a mall shooting, to a mix of the two. There were minor fender benders as people tried to escape. Brady nearly fell several times, but Lily wouldn't let him. He thought someone would open fire again. All they'd gone through to escape would be for nothing.

  He nearly couldn't believe it when they reached her car. Lily unlocked the back door and helped him slide inside. Brady collapsed across the seats. He didn't have the strength to get up. Lily climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. In the distance, they heard wailing sirens. Someone had finally put enough distance between themselves and the mall to call for help. Despite there being three unconscious men that tried to kill them and surveillance footage, he knew no charges would be brought. No one would even be arrested.

  "Brady?" Lily said. He couldn't see where they were going, just her wildly spinning the wheel. "Are you with me back there?"

  "Yeah. Just…tired. Thank you for…saving me."

  She smiled and shook her head. Without looking back, she felt for his hand and squeezed it. Brady pressed her palm against his cheek, wanting to feel her. Lily's scent touched his nose, and he could think of no sweeter smell as he lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER 19

  "Brady Jones. It even sounds like a fake name."

  Donovan kept still as Mathison, their field medic, patched him up. He sat in the middle of Brady's kitchen, amazed by the blandness and simplicity of the apartment. There was male-living, and there was whatever Brady was doing. No pictures, no personality, no pets. The walls were bare. There weren't even empty take-out boxes strewn about.

  His team moved in organized chaos around him, dissecting the environment. He thought he was prepared. More than anyone else, he knew what Project Zero-Twelve, or Brady, could do. Yet they underestimated him. Judging from the occasional wince Mathison let out, the damage Brady had done was extensive. Stitch after stitch, staple after staple. His shoulder was nearly useless, his face ruined. The plastic sheet on the kitchen floor was caked in blood. He wanted to get up and join the team, but Mathison held him firm.

  "Not yet, sir. A few more."

  "Are you getting paid by the hour?" Donovan asked. He was trying to hide his mood, and wasn't successful. "You want to speed it up?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He listened to the sounds around him, putting the images together in his mind. The bathroom was being torn apart, the bedroom searched. Drawers were emptied on the floor. The computer was dissected, byte by byte. Two of the team talked in the living room.

  "Jesus, look at this collection."

  "Now we know where all the porn we watch comes from."

  Donovan stood up. Mathison followed suit, putting the finishing touches on another stitch.

  "We'll get back to this later," Donovan said.

  "You're going to need more work. Your shoulder especially. Maybe surgery—"

  "Yeah. Don't we all?"

  Donovan headed to the living room, to the source of the conversation. He dropped to one knee and studied Brady's massive collection of pornography. Pulling out a title, he opened it to examine the Blu-ray.

  "He doesn't watch. This is just something for him to organize, to control. Related to his old family life, I guess. How are we doing with cleanup at the mall?"

  "We have all the security footage. Containment is underway. We're clear."

  "Good, good." Another knock came at the door. Donovan was losing patience. Nosy neighbors continued to stop by. "I want this entire building emptied and secured. If another person knocks, kill them."

  "Seriously—?"

  "No, I'm not serious. But keep these bastards away."

  He approached Wheatley, who was positioned at Brady's computer. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he poked and prodded. Wheatley turned to face him as Donovan's shadow loomed. Wheatley's cheeks turned white at the massive amount of facial patchwork.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "I've been better, but I'll live."

  Wheatley sighed. "We're not going to be two steps ahead much longer."

  Donovan arched an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if Wheatley was joking or not. In the decades they'd known each other, Wheatley wasn't known for his sense of humor.

  "Two steps ahead? You really think we're two steps ahead?"

  "We're here at his place, none of the other teams are. We know who our target is, everything about him. We have the advantage."

  "He deflected us with a bear and marbles. I'm not sure how ahead we are. The other teams. What's the status on that?"

  "We've eliminated Belgium. Janez thinks
he has a lead on the Egyptians. And we know the French are out there."

  "And more, I'm sure." Donovan gestured toward the computer. That was the key. Technology was the clearest window into a person's life. "Where are we at here?"

  Wheatley frowned as he turned back to the computer.

  "He's going to be hard to lean on."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He's…weird, sir. He barely emails. He doesn't have a mobile phone. He's got a land line, but we haven't found any contacts. He doesn't make or receive calls, except to get take-out. He has no family, no friends."

  "He has that woman. Lilian Ferguson."

  "Yeah. He cares about her a lot. They've exchanged a whopping three emails. But the problem is she's up his ass. Hard to get leverage on him when they're joined at the hip."

  Donovan laughed, which sent shocks through him. He thought about the incident at the mall, replayed it in his mind. He would never say it aloud, but he was proud of Brady. Strong, fierce, protective. The weapon they used, supposedly designed specifically for him, was working. It was only when Donovan was open and honest regarding Lily's fate that he literally brought out the bear in Brady.

  "I have to admit," Donovan said. "He's definitely impressive."

  Wheatley flashed him a look that said it all. Donovan was complementing a man that had mauled him, nearly killed him.

  "Yes, sir. Very impressive."

  "I thought outside the lab, without training, he wouldn't know half of what he can do. Just goes to show you, I guess. Never doubt the human spirit."

  "Indeed."

  Mathison approached, carrying a laptop. He offered it to Donovan, but withdrew when he regarded Donovan's shoulder. Wheatley took it instead.

  "Sir," Mathison said. "The security footage you asked for. We spliced the cameras together, showing the subject's entire day at the mall."

  "Thank you. Circulate the footage with the team. I want everyone to be able to spot Brady in the dark. How he breathes, how he moves. His girlfriend, too."

  Wheatley set the laptop up so they could watch together.

  The first thing Donovan noticed was how close Brady and Lily were. He was joking when he called Lily his girlfriend, but now he wasn't so sure. The way they looked at each other, the subtle flirting, touching. They were more than friends, whether they realized it or not.

  Their trip was mostly mundane. Some time in the department store, browsing through clothes. Brady's intelligence and knowledge of the mall was on display when Lily was in the dressing room. He'd turned his back to the camera, and the observer without a clue wouldn't see Brady create a pair of scissors from his own body.

  They stopped to buy a mobile phone next, talking and laughing. Brady and Lily were the center of attention wherever they went, the unusual pair's chemistry drawing eyes to them. Donovan tapped the screen.

  "He has a mobile phone. I want that number."

  "Are you sure? It doesn't look like it's for him."

  "Trust me, it's his."

  The rest of the day they witnessed firsthand. Brady buying food. Donovan stopping for a quick ill-fated chat. Wheatley cringed when they watched Brady shape-shift into a bear, decimate Donovan, and then proceed to systemically take down the other team members present. All while supposedly disabled by their tech. They watched him help another security guard, whom he'd talked to earlier, by locking themselves in a shoe store.

  "Very noble, isn't he?" Wheatley said.

  "He is."

  More pride. Donovan knew Brady's background. He knew about the foster homes, the isolated upbringing. To be able to care about anything after the childhood he had was remarkable.

  Donovan wished he could care like that.

  Brady finished his daring escape by changing into a mass of marbles, followed by a hawk. As the hawk left the frame, something registered with Donovan. He reached out and pressed the space bar, pausing the video and sending a flare of pain through his shoulder.

  "Go back, ten seconds."

  Wheatley did so. They watched again, four more times. Wheatley cast a sideways glance to Donovan, wondering what he was missing.

  "Look," Donovan said, pointing. "Right there. Right before Brady makes me fall on my ass."

  "The security guard?"

  "Yeah. Watch her."

  "I…don't really see anything, sir."

  "She doesn't flinch," Donovan said. "Her eyes are on him, watching him. She doesn't even blink."

  "Shock, maybe? She did get shot."

  "Maybe. But I think she knows. I think she knows what Brady can do." His phone rang, which he'd been waiting for since they first set up in Brady's apartment. He nodded at Wheatley as he unclipped the phone from his belt. "Get me her name. They're colleagues, obviously. I want a name, address, the type of bra she wears, everything."

  Donovan groaned as he stood up, fighting the pain, and answered the call.

  "Yes."

  Silence. He could only hear the angry, labored breathing. If he didn't already know who it was, he would have hung up.

  "I'm told he's still alive," Boss said.

  "He is. We've had some complications."

  "What complications?"

  "Other teams have arrived. We've been playing cat and mouse, trying to beat them to the punch."

  "Is that all? You can't handle some competition? Did too many years chasing scientists and defectors, using a broom and dustpan, slow you down?"

  Donovan gripped the phone tighter.

  "Your little gadgets, the ones you spent millions of dollars and decades on, didn't work."

  "That's…not possible."

  "They. Didn't. Work. For a minute, they did their job. But after that he was up and moving."

  "So, you had one minute. What were you doing for that one minute?"

  He said nothing. There was nothing to say. Donovan knew he made a mistake.

  That was something he wouldn't do again.

  "I'm starting to think I called the wrong maid service."

  "Oh, stop," Donovan said. "You're not talking to one of your little slaves. The job will get done. Then when I'm done, maybe I'll come clean your house."

  "Did…you just threaten—?"

  Donovan hung up. Time was too valuable to waste bickering back and forth with Boss. The entire team had stopped in place to watch the conversation, and only a nasty glare from Donovan got them moving again. Wheatley had a look of utter shock on his face.

  "Sir," he said. "You might have just gone a little far there."

  He ignored the concern and leaned over Wheatley's shoulder. His right-hand man and friend had already done as he'd asked, and had information up on the laptop.

  "What do you got?"

  "Paula Goode. Been working at the mall for over twenty years, been Brady's boss for four." He pressed the right arrow, running through various pictures. "Never been married, no children. In high school, she—"

  "Stop. Go back a picture."

  Donovan stared at the photo, taken at the mall with the rest of the security team. It was the best angle and resolution they had. He saw her face clearly, without the distraction of having been attacked by a bear.

  "I don't believe it."

  CHAPTER 20

  A set of headlights washing over the car pulled Lily from her light sleep. She jumped up immediately, like she had countless times in the past five hours. The uncomfortable heat, sense of claustrophobia, odd surroundings, it took a moment to remember she was in the back of her car with Brady. They were parked one hundred yards off the highway, nestled in the trees. She'd pulled Brady from the car and lowered the seats, using the back as a bed for them. From the afternoon to the early evening, Brady didn't budge.

  Lily tried to keep her worry under control.

  Brady was breathing, so she knew he was alive. He didn't snore, barely made a sound. She napped throughout the day, snuggled close to his side. Despite the heat, they would have to pry her away from him. A few times she thought he stirred, and she jolted up only to s
ee him still in a slumber. Nothing roused him. Not water, gentle slaps on the cheek, a shaking of the shoulders. She even whispered in his ear, somehow hoping her voice would bring him back to her, and feeling silly at every passing word.

  Paranoia had long taken over, and she flinched at every passing car, afraid that it was the one. The people that attacked them the night before, and at the mall, had found them. But the cars never pulled over, never even saw them. That didn't make her sleep any more restful.

  Nature called to her, and she went behind a tree. Memories of a far more innocent time rushed back. Her time in the girl scouts, where she got her first tattoo, even though it was fake. Her whole life was ahead of her back then. Now she wasn't sure if she'd live another week.

  Lily cried when she thought of the mall. That terrible walk with that man holding her arm. She knew they weren't taking her back to her apartment, but she had to play along, for Brady's sake. If it weren't for him, she'd be dead.

  She held his knee as she stood at the back of the car. It killed her to see him hurt, struggling to walk. Brady was the most unique person she'd ever met, and also the strongest. Whatever secret government tricks they had, they'd crippled him. That terrified her.

  "Come on, sweetie," she said. "Come back to me."

  She crawled into the back of the car, leaving the hatchback open. Curling on her side, she moved Brady's arm so she could use it as a pillow, pressing her back against his side. She interlaced her fingers in his own and kissed his wrist.

  Brady woke up.

  He shot upright. In shock, Lily moved with him. They both smacked their heads on the roof at the same time.

  "Ow! Brady!" Lily shouted. "What the fuck!"

  "What…Where…Lily?"

  She left the car first. Rubbing her head, she waited impatiently for Brady to follow. Emotions she didn't expect overwhelmed her, too many to process. She responded the only way she knew.

  "You asshole!"

  She smacked his arm, even as he tried to adjust to the dusk around them. Brady didn't respond, studying his surroundings, so she hit him again.

  "Hey! Stop hitting me!"