by R. J. Henry
He nodded, snapping his attention back to her. “Indeed.”
“I’m sorry, dad.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“For thinking the worse in you.”
“I loved your Mother.”
“I know you did,” she said, embracing him. “I did to,” she said, almost squeezing the breath out of him.
The warmth in his arms calmed her agitation. Without anything left to lose, but Calista, the right thing was the one thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to lose his only child. Anything other than her, he could care less about. Job, money, and house; take it all. Just not my ponytailed baby girl I raised.
Calista yanked away. “We need to warn people about this. Before it spreads any worse than it already has. We can prevent it from spreading!”
“I agree. I will just have to come up with a way to do so.”
“No. will. Together. All of us.”
A knock on Marcel’s door broke their attention. Emily popped her head in with a sympathetic smile. “Doctor Johnston. I am sorry to interrupt you, but the University’s Dean Schmick is here to see you.”
Schmick scooted past her, easing himself into the room. He looked fixedly at Marcel’s floor. “Well, they warned me when I started here that scientists are messy. I, uh, heh, thought they were joking.”
Marcel outstretched his arm, taking Schmick’s hand with a firm grip. “Dean Schmick. What do I have the pleasure of seeing you here for?” Instantly, Marcel’s concern could be seen in the Dean’s eyes.
“I hope you are okay.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I tried calling. But,” he tilted, looking behind Marcel at the unplugged and tangled off phone, “your phone appears to be on the floor.”
“Oh, that. I’m sorry.”
Dean Schmick shrugged it off. Assuming it is all part of Marcel’s process. “Follow me to the conference room. A few other people and I are holding a meeting.”
Marcel flung his head back, realizing what he had forgotten. “Right, the interview for my replacement. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Because the job pursuer is the Mayor’s son.”
“Great. I’m late on a live and televised event.”
“Heh, yes. Now come on. Without him, funding can be cut within a blink of an eye.”
Nick chortled. “Isn’t that extortion?”
Dean Schmick turned to Marcel, pointing at Nick. “Who is this?”
“No one,” Marcel said, pushing the Dean out of the room. “We need to hurry, I presume.”
“Right,” Dean Schmick said.
•••
He recognized the Mayors’ son from his name brand attire and his Fathers’ jaw line. No doubt, he’d be great replacement based upon that and his transcripts from Harvard.
Marcel couldn’t help but wonder why he just doesn’t go work for the President with having a Master’s Degree in Homeland Security as well as having a PhD in Medical Science. He thumbed through Grant Daly’s file, nodding at each accomplishment listed. Ten to be exact. Ranging anywhere from High School Debate team all up to being a Chief Editor on his College Newspaper: Daly’s Daily Paper.
Despite him lacking the requirements to technically be classified as a Doctor of Science, he sat still. He didn’t fidget, or seem to be nervous at all. Being too sure of himself, sat Marcel aback. Marcel knew the technicalities of how to obtain a job, but seen this interview as a waste of time.
Without hesitation, he decided to ask his first question. He cleared his throat, and leaned forward. “What made you decide to take this job?”
The man operating the camera stopped him. “Hold on, Doctor Johnston. Wait for me to finish the count, and then you can talk.”
Marcel nodded, studying the camera. Beneath the tripod stand were three cords running to a conjoining television. The session was to be projected upon it as it broadcasted all over the city. I’d be damned to give this job to a man that is no more than a petty show pony.
“Wait,” Marcel said, “so this camera airs automatically? Like, as the man reaches one in his countdown? Not the next day?”
Dean Schmick leaned towards him and answered. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
He grinned. “No. Actually, it solves my problem.”
Dean Schmick rolled his eyes, and mouthed, “Okay.”
The cameraman began his countdown. After he reached one, Marcel took a deep breath in, hesitating.
With a twitch in his smile, Dean Schmick rubbed his palms together. “Doctor, this is when you are to speak. Now.”
Marcel relaxed in the bouncy red chair. “Fuck it. I’m losing this job anyhow.”
“What are you doing?” Dean Schmick hissed.
“Warning people,” he said, facing the camera. “Everyone listen. There is new disease spreading. Created by me, accidentally. It’s spreading through being bitten by anyone who has it. They are called Fledges.”
“Marcel!” Dean Schmick said. “What in the blazes are you—?”
“Please!” Marcel continued. “Listen! I have a vaccine. There is no cure. They will turn everyone into a Fledge or kill us all! Time is of the essence!”
“Marcel Johnston, shut the hell up you lunatic!” Dean Schmick’s face became swollen and red with pounding rage.
Marcel realized what he did, and ran out of the conference room. Dean Schmick raced after him. “What was that all about?”
“No time to explain.”
“Explain or you’re fired.”
Grant stood behind Schmick, frowning. “Yes, please elaborate your bizarre behavior.”
“Fire me, then.”
“You have twenty-four hours to evacuate these premises before I call a psych ward on your crazy ass,” Dean Schmick said.
He nodded, agreeing with Schmick.
As Schmick turned around, Marcel heard him mumble, “Fucking scientists.”
He disregarded the comment, running into his lab with haste.
Calista, all wide-eyed, knew something was up. “Dad, are you okay? You’re breathing is very rapid.”
“I’m fine. But, we are not. I warned the city on what was supposed to be a televised interview with the Mayor’s son.”
“Huh?”
“But, first, Emily,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder, “I am so sorry for all of this. Especially in your condition.”
“What are you talking about? What condition am I in?” Emily’s hand shook over her chest.
“Being pregnant is hard enough. Now, I’ve added more stress to your agenda.”
Calista gasped. “You’re pregnant?”
Nick corrected her. “No. She’s not. She just didn’t want to insult Marcel by correcting him. But, unlike me, she actually cares whether or not she is risking making that person look stupid.”
Marcel furrowed his brow. “What is he saying?”
“Exactly how it sounds,” she said with a shrug.
“Whew!” Marcel squealed. “Well, then I guess you’re able to help me pack up and move.”
“Pack?” Calista intervened. She eyed the amount of things strewn through the office, and grimaced in a way that suggested she didn’t particularly feel like sorting out everything.
Marcel nodded, almost grinning, as Calista rolled her eyes in a disagreement to participate. “Anyone know of some place safe we can go? Fledge-free preferably.”
Maddie rose from her seat. “I know of a place.”
“Where?”
“New Haven,” she said. She wiggled her finger between her and Emily. “Our mom lives there. She, and the town, are Fledge-free.”
“You told mom?” Emily couldn’t believe her blabbermouth sister. But her anger quickly sizzled as Maddie reminded her why it was for the best.
“She owns more vendors there than the town Mayor. She better knows everything,” she said, crossing her sister with a scowl, scrunched up, nose.
Emily waited for her sisters’ patent signature move of sticking her tongu
e out when proving to be right. At a shockingly advancement from her sister, she refrained from doing so in Emily’s face. But, once Emily turned away, she proceeded with her childish antics. “Nick, could you hold onto this for me?” she said, handing him the purple device.
He nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he said, placing it into his coat pocket.
She turned to Marcel. “Will this vaccine surely work? I mean… I do not doubt you.”
“You should worry. Because I lowered the vaccine’s potency. It is only a temporary mixture, giving you a fifty-fifty chance at prevention. I am unable to make it stronger without further testing it to ensure its safety.”
“How long does it last?”
“A week, maybe two.”
“How can we know for sure?”
“You can always let Calista take a chomp at you,” he chuckled.
Emily gave him a scowled look, cutting his laughter into a short, stifled, chuckle.
Chapter 11
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! In the midst of Marcel packing his belongings, he heard three, disturbing, bangs on his door.
He stared at Calista, who was standing comfortably beside Nick. “Help would be nice,” he grunted. “Could you get the door?”
Calista shook her head in response. Another set of bangs hit the steel door. “Go away! We are very busy in here,”
Marcel said, becoming irate at the persistence of the continuous knocking. “It’s me. Grant Daly. You interviewed, heh, umm, well we talked this morning.”
“Okay. Now go away. Leave us be.”
“Will you just let me talk?”
“You just did talk. Now, go.”
“I believe you!” Grant said. “I may be of some help.”
Marcel stood by the door, hesitant to answer it.
“Let me in. I can see your shadow beneath the door. Please?” Grant begged.
Marcel shifted his foot back. He didn’t know what to expect from him. “How can you help?”
“Open the door, and I will explain.”
Calista patted his shoulder. “Just let him in. He is the Mayor’s son, after all. There may be some truth to what he is saying.”
Marcel eyed her precariously, thinking, ‘oh, now you move’. But, he didn’t say a word to her about that. He just heaved out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he said, and followed by opening the door. Before allowing Grant inside, he doublechecked down the halls to make sure no one had followed him.
Marcel’s stomach tightened at the sight of Grant’s crooked smile. He turned back to his box of things, on his desk, and pretended to ignore Grant’s presence. But, he wanted to know why he is here. “Speak,” he said to Grant.
“What you said this morning is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
Marcel slammed down a few first edition science books on his desk. “No. From my findings, when one is changed into a Fledge the only thing that changes on them is their thirst for blood versus water, or soda even.”
“Hmmm,” Grant hummed, studying Marcel’s tight facial expression. “What do you mean from your findings?”
“Calista, and Nick, over there,” he pointed, “are both Fledges. They bite flesh, they eat blood, but they are just as normal as you or me.”
“The mass murders downtown, are they related to what’s going on here?”
Marcel nodded, dropping his eyes from Calista.
“That will work. Listen, I’ll let you make more of those vaccines. I’ll put out a public notice adding to the validity of your statement.”
He raised his gaze, with a half-grin. “Thank you. But, why?”
Grant turned around, waving his hand in the air. Before leaving, he stopped. “There is no reason for more people to die. We’ll be lucky if the CDC doesn’t close this place down.”
The graveness in his voice left Marcel with a deep shudder. He knew innocent people were perishing or changing, but to have someone actually say it made it all too real for him. He swept the room with his eyes, realizing the feeling was mutual.
He went over to the sink, opening the cabinet above it. He pulled out a case of vials. “I will need help carrying these out to my car.”
Nick chuckled, crossing his arms at the three cases on Marcel’s desk. “That’s it?”
Marcel smiled. “No,” he said, turning to the closet in the back corner of the lab. He clicked on the light, illuminating the dark space with fluorescent lighting. “These, too.”
Nick’s eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. “Whoa! When did you do this?”
“Last night, when you guys left down the hall to eat in Emily’s lab.”
“Dad, why didn’t you tell Grant about these?”
“Well, dear, there is something I should have taught you a long time ago.”
“What?”
“To not trust anyone.”
“Well, that’s kind of grim. Don’t you think? To live a life not being able to trust people is just sad.”
“In this case, it is better to be sad and safe rather than happy only to become bitter after being stabbed in the back by the person you would take a bullet for.”
“What do you mean?”
“After that announcement is made, we will be hunted. The people who came up with this will want to kill us for trying to fix their mistake.”
More than anything, Calista didn’t want to be seen as a mistake in her Fathers’ eyes. Even though that is not what he meant, she couldn’t help but view herself as one. But, didn’t want this announcement to get out of hand. “Then, why tell people?”
“Because the good people of America, or what is left of them, have a right to know. They have a right to be protected.”
“Don’t forget, they have a right to fight for their freedom,” Nick said. “Honestly, not allowing someone to die when it is their time, is taking away the one thing given to us; freewill.”
“Emily, do you still have that television in your lab?” Marcel said, locking the closet shut.
“Yeah.”
“I want to see if Mister Daly is telling the truth. It’s on the Public Announcement Channel, right?”
“Yep. Channel six?” she asked rhetorically.
“Good.”
•••
Grant Daly steadily made his way to the podium. He felt unsure how exactly this press meeting would go, but knew exactly what he needed to say. No matter how silly it made him sound to the public.
The clatter of recorders turning on and paper rustling sounded amongst the insistent chatter of the reporters from various news stations. His stance became firm while he nudged his tie a bit loose. He couldn’t stand the talking at once. “Please, calm down. One question at a time.”
A lady, near the front, took a stand. “Despite the radicle Doctor Johnston, were you able to get the job?”
“Yes. Any other questions?”
She sat down, and the man next to her raised up. “Piggybacking off of her question, why did Doctor Johnston have a mental breakdown? Will he be institutionalized?”
“No he will not.”
A man, in the back of the crowd yelled out of his turn. “Was he telling the truth about a government facilitated breed that was created?”
Grant choked at the question. Everyone fell silent, awaiting his response. He patted sweat from his forehead as he answered. “A new species, called the Fledges, have indeed been created. I think so, at least.”
The noise raised above an octave his ears could handle. He quickly stepped down, rushing out of the building. People in the lobby watched what just happened, and mumbled profanities about Grant and his obvious lunacy in contributing to the assertion Marcel made publicly that morning.
•••
Marcel clicked on the remote, turning off the television. He rose from his chair, so angry that if her were a cartoon character steam would roll out his ears in small puffs of clouds. “Some validity that gives us!”
Calista slammed her back in her chair. �
��Heh. Now I know what you mean, when you said to not trust anyone.”
Nick watched as the sky turned into a deep purplish-orange. “Do you think anyone will believe it?”
“With a little faith, maybe,” Marcel said, assuring himself more than anything. Believing in the possibility of it actually working comforts him. As absurd as it may seem, it worked. But he knew doubting it wouldn’t make it happen any faster. He realized what needs to be done; to take action.
“Before shit gets any worse, I’m leaving,” Nick said, tossing his leather coat over his shoulders.
Emily blinked at him, pursing her lips defiance. “What? No, you are not.”
He opened the door. “I’m not going to just sit around here waiting to be killed. I’m going. Goodbye.”
She shook her head, not wanting to believe what just happened. “So, shit gets worse, and then he abandons us?” she said. Turning to her shoulder, she whispered to herself, “Then I guess it was a good idea to leave him behind six years ago.”
“What was that, sis?” Maddie said.
She just shrugged. “Nothing.”
Calista appeared rather glad he left. “Good riddance. His cologne smelt terrible. It smelt like he rolled in pile of wood sprinkled with random seasonings.”
Emily raised her brow. “You seemed to be enjoying earlier.”
“Yeah, well, that was before he said he doesn’t do relationships. Only one night stands.”
Giggling at Calista, she turned her gaze to the door. Inside, she frowned, loving the smell of his cologne. I can’t believe he stuck with that scent. It’s been six years, and the one thing that didn’t change was that.
“You want us to put the last few boxes in your car?” Maddie broke Emily’s trance.
His face twisted awry. “Nah. They gave me until nine in the morning to clear out. I’m going to milk the shit out of their facilities. Besides, I haven’t paid my heat bill for three months now.”
Maddie furrowed her brows, and scrunched her nose. She couldn’t fathom as to why he would like to be cold all of the time. Assuming that was his reasoning, and not because he was poor or anything. She didn’t want to sound snobby. With a sweet voice, she decided to ask him. “Why?”
Calista laughed, answering for him. “He always worked, worked, worked. He might as well have lived here. But you and Emily are more than welcome to go home. I’m going to stay with my dad.”
