by Adam Moon
He grabbed the shoebox full of pictures and a couple copies of his book.
Melanie read over his shoulder, “The art of dreams and how they shape you. Did you write that?”
She must have guessed from the fact that he had a stack of the exact same book strewn across the floor or because his name was on the front cover.
“Yeah, a long time ago.”
“Can I have one?”
Before he had the chance to talk her out of it she helped herself to one of the many at her feet.
He wished she hadn’t done that. They were an embarrassment to him nowadays. “It’s not very good. I wrote it because I thought you can make money writing books but I found out the hard way that it’s just not true.”
She reassured him, “I’m sure it’s great Jack. You’re too hard on yourself.”
She looked about and continued, “Are you thirsty? I saw a coffee shop around the corner when we were pulling in.”
Jack shrugged. “Sure, I’m always up for coffee and they have some of the best. You wanna go now?”
“I’ll get it. You’re safer indoors with Billy. What do you want?”
He already knew what the menu had to offer. He told her what wanted. He suggested she stay away from the Café Mocha because it was chalky.
After she took off he started to scan the apartment for anything else he just couldn’t live without. There was nothing.
Billy had disappeared into the bathroom the moment they’d entered the apartment and it didn’t look like he planned to rejoin the search effort for Jack’s prized possessions until he was good and done.
The toilet flushed, and then it flushed again a minute later.
Melanie was back almost as soon as she left. He took his coffee and sipped it, burning his top lip and tongue.
“Let me pay for this.”
“No way. I’ve had that cash locked up in my purse for damn near a whole year. It was happy to be spent.”
Billy came out of the bathroom shaking his hands out.
He started to say, “Where do you keep your towels?” but trailed off when he saw the coffee cups. He stared at Melanie accusatorily. “You left him alone without telling me?”
She looked surprised by his tone.
“I just grabbed a couple coffees. I was gone all of two minutes.”
“You’re not supposed to leave at all, especially not without informing me.”
He was getting a bit too aggressive for Jack’s taste.
“Listen, I asked her to go. I didn’t bother telling you because I knew you were in there defiling my toilet. Drop it. It’s just coffee.”
He must have lightened up because he raised his voice in mock anger. “Then where the hell is my coffee?”
Melanie giggled nervously, unsure if everything was back to normal.
Billy had screwed it up last time by letting Jack out of his sight. Jack sort of understood that he couldn’t let anything like that happen again. He must have forgotten to brief Melanie about it though. That was his fault, not hers.
Jack looked about and dismissed his initial plan to send Billy outside to get some alone time with Melanie; the place was too much of a dump now. “I think I’m all done here.”
Billy looked at Melanie and then at Jack. “We came all this way for a box and a book? Come on man, getting out’s like a rare thing for us. Don’t you have any things to haul off to storage or bills to set straight? There must be something.”
There wasn’t but Jack winged it. “I’d love to have one last meal at my favorite restaurant. Are you guy’s hungry?”
Billy looked at the floor and after a few seconds he said to Melanie, “We write it up as something else. If they think we went out to eat on their time heads will roll.”
She shrugged, clearly not as bothered by silly protocol as he was.
They were seated beside a window and the sun was just starting to come down outside casting long shadows across their table.
Billy mumbled, “We’ll say we helped him put all his furniture out on the curb for trash pickup. That would take us a while.”
Melanie agreed just to shut him up.
Jack asked, “Do you guys want to start with the Bruschetta? It’s awesome here.”
By the time they’d finished up their main courses and declined desserts they were dizzy from the margaritas.
Melanie had scooted closer to Jack throughout the meal. He hadn’t noticed until her hip touched his.
Billy was either intently interested in the ceiling tiles or else he was being a good buddy. But it wasn’t appropriate to leave the poor guy stranded, feeling awkward like that so Jack suggested they head back.
Melanie wasn’t pleased to cut it short but she pretended it was fine as she excused herself to visit the restroom.
Billy tried to stop her. “We’re not supposed to leave each others sight.”
She laughed. “Ok then, come on boys I can’t hold it much longer.”
Billy, clearly embarrassed said, “Alright, alright,” holding his hands up in surrender.
The drive back was more somber than the drive out. Maybe it was the aftereffects of the Margaritas or just the idea that they were driving back for immediate incarceration with no end in sight.
Jack said quietly, “I wonder what would happen if we just drove right to a police station and told them everything. They’d have to help us, iron clad contract or not. What they’re doing has to be against the law.”
“That would just be a death warrant. The General would probably say we were wanted for some type of National Security reason, then he’d prove it with manufactured documentation, and then the cops would lose all power to help us.”
“I should have read that stupid contract over before signing my life away to those bastards.”
“I know. But the money was so good that you didn’t want to even question it, right?”
“Exactly. But now I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be alive long enough to see it.”
“Or if you’ll ever be set free at all,” she finished for him.
He turned the radio on to distract him from the doubts gathering in his head.
Over the course of the drive back, there were a lot of thoughts hanging in the air between them but no words to give them substance.
Once through the security gate, they walked inside the building together. They were all frisked. It seemed stupid frisking two escorts when both of them were clearly armed to the teeth.
Jack assumed they were looking for a tracking device or a cell phone or a bomb, something that could jeopardize the operation.
An ugly, pallid guard went through Jack’s shoebox and his books to make sure he wasn’t smuggling something in. Once satisfied, they were allowed to go about their day.
Chapter 42: Late Shift
It was already late so Jack suspected he wouldn’t have to meet with the freaks downstairs but he was wrong. Melanie said they were to rendezvous in half an hour with the old men.
She smiled coyly. “I’m all sweaty. Can I use your shower?”
Jack smirked. “I’m pretty sweaty too.”
“And you wouldn’t want to waste water, now would you?”
“Not on the taxpayers’ dime.”
The shower became more than just a shower. It had been years since he’d done that.
Afterward he popped a couple beers and handed one to Melanie. He was parched from those drinks earlier and she must have been too because she chugged half the bottle before saying thanks.
“Normally I’d break out the good stuff for a beautiful lady but we don’t want to meet with the geriatrics all fucked up and slurring.”
“At least they give you the good stuff. All we get’s cheap beer. It’s free so I’m not complaining too loud.”
“You can share mine anytime.” He wanted to lace it with sexual innuendo but wisely refrained.
She sheepishly asked, “Do you have a girlfriend on the outside?”
“Did it look like my apartm
ent had a feminine touch to it? No, I’ve been single for awhile.”
He’d hoped she didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband but how could he know for sure. Then again, they wouldn’t have hired her if she had family or ties of any significance. She confirmed his suspicions and put his jealous thoughts to rest just as they were about to rumble to life.
“I’ve been alone for a long time too.”
Jack was silently grateful. But then he came to the conclusion that he was falling for her far too fast. Sure he was desperate but that was only a small part of it; he really liked her. Best not to let her see just how much he liked her though, might scare her off and that was the last thing he wanted.
She switched subjects. “We’d better not keep them waiting or they’ll send an armed escort for us.”
Chapter 43: Brett the Bully
The bruiser at the door, Brett, roughly grabbed Jack’s ID from him and scrutinized it as though he was certain he was a terrorist. The guy was a Nazi thug seventy years and thousands of miles removed from his true calling. He’d have fit right in with his cruel blue eyes and intimidating air of steely authority. Jack hated him more each time.
When he went to hand the ID back he deliberately dropped it before Jack got hold of it. Jack hadn’t seen anything so sophomoric since high school. He was about to stoop down and pick it up but refrained from literally bowing before this asshole.
Angrily he demanded, “Pick that up.”
Brett smirked, making it clear he wasn’t about to give in. Jack stood his ground, his anger tricked him into believing he could handle a man so large, a man clearly born and bred to punish and beat on and kill anyone he didn’t like.
“Pick it up or I’ll fucking kill you.”
Whoa, Jack had never once threatened to kill a person before. This guy was in his head big-time.
Brett took that as his cue to engage and stepped forward just in time to receive a swift boot to the crotch from Melanie. As he bent double she hit him on the back of the head with both hands like a mallet. He wasn’t about to go down from that though. He sidestepped her next swing and grabbed for his pistol.
Jack grabbed his pistol-fetching arm. He was surprised he was able to hold it still. Brett tried to shuck him off but somehow Jack was too strong. He knew this stance wouldn’t hold forever; he needed a new tactic or he’d end up on the losing end. He let go of the arm long enough to attack. The guard’s pistol was halfway out when Jack punched him square in the chest.
Jack wasn’t a fighter; he’d once in awhile get a little too boisterous when he drank way too much but the last time he’d actually hit someone was a decade ago and that was a woman; a hooker trying to take his wallet, but still. So the last thing he expected was for the meathead to crash against the door and slide to the ground gasping for air.
Melanie got between them and put a hand on Jack’s chest to stop him. That snapped him back to reality. He hadn’t handled the situation with anything close to diplomacy. It wasn’t like him. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t just killed the guy but Melanie wasn’t about to let him come any closer.
He’d heard of people getting hit in the chest and then dying from the resultant heart arrhythmia. Just then he felt sick to his stomach. Partly because he didn’t want the asshole to die but also partly because fifteen seconds ago he did, with all his heart.
Brett stumbled to his feet gasping for air, all traces of the former malevolence gone from his features.
Within seconds a squad of four guards came rushing down the corridor, weapons raised.
They stopped twenty feet back. One of them shouted, “Everyone, weapons out and over and get down on the ground.”
Melanie slowly unholstered her weapons and kicked them over one by one. Jack had nothing so he just got on his belly.
“You too Brett,” a guard barked at the meathead. He clumsily obeyed, pulling out his guns and tossing them to the floor before gingerly sitting down.
They remained like that, he and Melanie on their bellies and the huge buffoon sitting Indian style against the orders of his fellow guards.
Brett had a lost look to him. Jack could only guess that he’d shattered the man’s reality by not only standing up to him but by defeating him at his own game. This had probably never happened to him before. Jack convinced him to lay down with them because if one of these trigger happy bastards killed him for noncompliance it would ultimately be Jack’s fault and he didn’t know if he could live with that.
One of the guards was taking into his walkie.
When he was done he commanded, “Everyone stay on the ground.”
At that, they slowly backed down the corridor, guns trained on the prone figures the entire time. Then they rounded the corner out of sight.
Jack didn’t quite understand it but then the door to the clean room behind them opened and Oliver walked through. He surveyed the situation quickly before telling everyone to get up. He ordered Brett to go to medical.
Brett seemed to understand. He stumbled in the direction the other guards had retreated. Then he wandered back towards them, retrieved his firearms from the floor, and retreated once more.
As Jack and Melanie were dusting themselves off Oliver asked pointedly, “What on earth were you two idiots thinking? That little scuffle could have ended in death. I’m actually shocked that I’m not dealing with two corpses right now. Brett’s no joke with his hands or with a weapon.”
Jack tried to offer up an excuse but Oliver cut him off. “I saw the whole thing on camera. There’s just no excuse for that kind of behavior.”
Melanie apologized and Jack followed suit. Oliver grabbed Jack’s bicep and squeezed it a couple times.
“Where did you learn how to fight anyway?”
His smile waned when Jack’s arm squished around under his grasp. The last time he’d been muscular Chia-pets and Beenie-babies were all the rage.
He shrugged. He didn’t know how to fight and he didn’t have an explanation for how he’d managed to take out the scariest human being he’d ever met.
Oliver let it go. “Let’s get to work. Melanie, you’re going to have to suit up and take door duty until an appropriate replacement arrives. Your weapons are waiting for you. As soon as possible report to your station for a full debriefing on what just happened here. I suspect we may have to remove Brett from his post.” Oliver paused for thought. “Then again, maybe we can just sweep all of this under the rug if everyone involved agrees that it never happened.”
Jack nodded. “Sure.”
He touched her shoulder as he followed Oliver into the clean room. “I’ll see you later.”
Chapter 44: Karl Marx
The warehouse on the other side felt alive. Jack took it all in as though for the first time.
He halted at an empty cage wondering why there was no creature within when he felt an invisible hand grab his arm and pull him against the bars.
Now he remembered; it was the weird, normally cruel invisible creature.
He panicked, fearing it would hurt him. He felt something wet slide into his ear and felt passion rush his senses, coming from the creatures touch. He almost succumbed to the pleasure when Oliver pulled him out of the see-through creatures grasp.
He said, “I’m pretty sure it’s a female and I’m pretty sure it just tongue fucked my ear.”
Oliver cringed at his cursing but he was a researcher so he pulled out a notepad.
“Is ‘tongue fucked’ one word or two?”
Jack laughed. “Sorry for swearing. It just surprised me is all. I think it likes me.”
Oliver put his pad away. “The Doctor told me they act different around you. I think that scares him but not me, you intrigue me. You open up so many more avenues of research hitherto unavailable to us.”
Jack had never heard the word hitherto used in a real life conversation before now but he suspected the Doc and Oliver probably spoke to each other using such high falutin language all the time.
The werewolf
was pacing and snorting at the ground. It looked agitated. A thick string of snot dangled from its huge snout. It didn’t look ferocious though, just upset. It halted in its tracks as they approached.
When it met Jack’s eyes it quickly looked down and away. Oliver gave him a quizzical look but said nothing.
Jack looked away when they passed the huge man eating toad but he had to get another look at his clones. There was something unique about being able to see yourself from the outside. It wasn’t at all like looking in a mirror. More like watching yourself on camera, except this was live.
There was the clone of Christmas past and the clone of Christmas present. They both nodded at him but otherwise remained statuesque.
He noted that the clone of Christmas present still had the death ball clutched in its hand.
“Now those are some good looking fellas,” Jack remarked.
Oliver gave him a pity laugh that pissed him off.
There was a new creature in the next cell. It might have been the most freakish abomination he had yet seen. It almost looked like Karl Marx, crazy beard and all, except that it had blonde hair. The similarities ended at the torso.
Its lower body was immense, filling a full third of the cage. It had six pointy legs like an ant and a hairy horse tail. It was as tall as a man. It was like a centaur but in all the wrong ways.
It was waxing philosophically in a baritone, articulate human voice as they passed.
It said to no one in particular, “A true God would not care if you believed in him. A loving God would not let you suffer. A creator does not create something he is not proud of; flaws would be fixed, adjustments would be made. God made you because he wanted something to hate.”
It flitted about angrily on its six pointed red legs as it spoke. Its tail thrashed about flicking invisible flies away. But the torso remained steady regardless of what was going on underneath.
Oliver said as an explanation, “I might have accidentally read Jessie the wrong book last night. Sometimes I forget he’s only ten.”
