by R. J. Henry
“Creates a Fledge like me. Normal, natural, and able to blend more easily within a human crowd. No one would ever suspect a thing unless we used our strength and agility in public. That, in which case, is not normal or natural.”
His eyes widened, shocked. “Like Steven.”
She furrowed her brows, nearing him. “Who?”
“Well, his childhood name was Tommy. He was the one of a hundred test subjects that was the only survivor to the tests that gave him those abilities. Doctor Seizer was there. He performed the tests himself.”
“Seizer? Where is he?”
“Dead. Steven killed him after he became what Calista is and tried to attack someone.”
“And Steven?”
“Alive, at least, until Myers decides to flip the switch. Then, everyone will die… His strength, it’s-it’s outstanding. I mean, he, alone, will be able to even form his own empire if he wanted after humans are diminished.”
“That is the thing about these Super Fledges. The switch doesn’t affect them, or me, for that matter.”
She tossed her coat over her shoulder. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“To save your daughter, and end this before it becomes a biological warfare.”
•••
Emily crossed, then uncrossed her legs repeatedly. She fidgeted in the chair across from Leanne. Her hands patted her knees, focused on the light ticking of the bird clock above her head. Many birds circled around the rim, used as a form of telling time by their individual breed of chirps.
A shotgun sprawled across Gene’s lap. He wiped it down with a white cloth, occasionally turning the toothpick in his mouth on either side of his lips.
She rolled her eyes thinking, why did I agree to come here? But, when she noticed Nick and his hands tightly intertwined, she halfsmiled at him.
“Nick, did you get contacts? Your eyes are different,” Leanne said, leaned in.
“I, uh—“
Gene broke him off. “I thought I told you not to show your face here again. I don’t care what mayhem is breaking loose.” His voice cracked through different levels of deep and lower than deep.
“I know. But, hasn’t it been long enough?”
“Long enough to do what? Huh? You destroyed your future by running off. Now, look at where you are. This ain’t even your home anymore.”
“My future? My future was not destroyed. I went to college. I have a Masters in Journalism.”
“Have you done anything with that degree?”
Nick slouched back into the recliner, sighed. “No. The job market for it, is, well, not so kind.”
Gene raised his brow. “See. Ruined.”
“It’s better than wasting my days away behind a counter running a hardware store. That place costs you more money than it is worth, or pays. I would be broke.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be running it. And, yes, you would be broke.”
“Huh?”
“The shop closed down. Five years ago.”
Nick bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, appeasing the anger inside his fathers’ glance.
“It’s fine.”
“Dad?”
Gene yanked his gaze up.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know, son. So, why are you here? Hiding away from those demon creatures?”
“Actually… I am one.”
Gene cocked his gun up to Nick’s face. “What?”
Nick pushed up from the dusty, brown, chair. He raised his hands in defeat. “It’s fine! I am okay, for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing if I can stop it.”
The door flung open. Trudy, who stood at the wide opening, heaved heavily, red in the face with exasperation. “Marcel is gone. He said he had to get something from his lab.”
“Calista,” Emily gasped. “Nick, he could be trouble. We have to go get him!”
“Okay. But if he is, I think it would be best if Steven and I leave.” He cupped her face, kissed her forehead. “You stay here. There’s not much you could do without killing yourself. Especially if things were to go from bad to shit in point two seconds.”
“Like, what? I can kill a few rogue Fledges.”
“Even if it were me you would have to kill?” He pulled his lips back in a grim strip.
She chuckled nervously. “Totally!” Her hands curled into her chest, her face flushed with never-ending warmth.
“Uh-huh.”
He is right, she thought. I would never hurt him. “Okay. Go. Be safe.”
Before he turned out the door, she stopped him. “Nick, wait. I have to tell you something.”
He tilted his head, watched as concern swept over eyes. “What is it?”
She picked at her nails, wobbled. We have a daughter you don’t know about, she thought, realized the words never left her mouth. “I, uh,” she stammered, “be careful.”
Chapter 21
Beakers clinked, placed down upon the white counter. Myers kept his face devoid by wearing the masks he once mocked The Renegades for wearing. He strolled over to her side, revealed. A grim smile tightened over his lips. The morose look in his eyes sprung an itching, shuddered, fear inside Calista.
“I have a surprise for you,” he droned, matched the dark shade of gray, crazy, in his eyes.
“Wait,” she vociferated. “Get away from me.”
Her shrill request paused him. He leaned back against an imaginary wall, livid. “What?” he hissed through his yellowed teeth.
“Before you kill me, can you at least tell me what you are going to do with me?”
He cackled. “I, potentially, won’t kill you.” He brought his fist in front of his chest, clenched a syringe filled with purple foam. “Experiment Z. Perfected to make a perfect human.”
“Why? Is this you trying to help me?”
“Help you? Ha, don’t make me laugh. No, no. You see, I am simply helping myself.”
“How is making me human, helping you out? Karma points, maybe?”
“No, heh. I said ‘almost human’. Helping you out is the last thing on my list… No, actually, it will never be on my list. See,” he rounded the table, “you will still, very much, be a Fledge. Just… Evolved. That’s it. However, it is much easier to control an absent mind than a non-stop killing machine.”
Smitten in his discovery, he tapped his fingers on his key fob. “With this, I have to click a button, and that is all it takes to release a frenzy of creatures. But with this,” he tapped the tube of the syringe, “all I need is the first thirty seconds of your time after injection.”
“I hope you die, you sadistic ass.”
He chuckled, ignored her wish. “You know, I had a young girl in here. She, and her mother,” he tossed a quick glance over to Christine, “were both injected with this. The girl survive, but I can’t say much for Christine. My first mistake was allowing that little brat to be field tested before successfully brainwashing her my way. Instead, I allowed my counterpart, Jane Brinks, to do it. God! She is stupid. I should have killed her a long time ago.”
“So, what? You inject me with that stuff, and I pretty much become your slave?”
“More like body guard. You see, I am still going to unleash hell. I just needed a few Fledges to be unaffected by the key fob in order to keep me safe while I further my ultimate plan.”
“Why strangers? Why not people you know?”
He started getting irritated with persistent chatter. His lips curled. He pressed the needle into her arm then stared into her eyes, he said, “Because everyone I know are idiots!”
The door boomed open, before he was able to complete his objective. Jane pointed her gun to the back of his head. “Freeze!”
His hands trembled towards the top of his head. “Don’t worry,” he sidestepped, turned around, “nothing has happened.”
“Nothing will ever be done by you, ever again!”
Marcel squeezed past her. “Cal
ista!” he said, rushed.
Myers dropped his hand back onto the syringe. “Another inch and you will be playing Russian Rolette with your daughters’ life.”
His heartbeat drummed, livid. He reddened, flustered. “I swear, if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll-I’ll—.”
“You’ll, what? Kill me? Shut up, Old Man.”
“Hank let her go! I swear to God, I will shoot!”
He chuckled, menaced, whipping out his gun. “Drop it. I will shoot as well.”
“Your bullets won’t harm her,” Marcel said.
“These will.” He furrowed his brow, shading his jaded eyes.
“Oh, shit,” Jane said, murmured.
“Now drop your gun, or all of you will soon meet your fates.”
Naturally desensitized by nature, Jane found an ambivalent turmoil brewed in the pit of her stomach. She cared about them, including Hank. She felt sure their souls were a match. She loved him, but now she shakes at the ultimate choice she is faced to make. What am I going to do? She thought.
•••
Steven veered into the University’s parking lot, parking into a spot closest the entrance. He removed the keys from the ignition, edged. “Are you sure about this?”
“Where else would he have gone? This lab, from my understanding, was his home.”
“Then, he should be safe, right? Why did we have to come here?”
Nick swept his eyes across the lot. Two cars down, sat Marcels’. “I didn’t want to say anything about this before, but when I was here I noticed something strange. I thought it was nothing, but I fear that I was wrong to pass blinding judgement.”
“What?”
“The dean, here. Dean Schmick. When I was here, I saw him and the mayor arguing about something. I’m not sure what. But, if I had to guess, it would have to be that it has something to do with this Project Fledge.”
The doors clicked, swung open.
Nick stared across the rooftop, after placing sunglasses over his eyes. “After we find Marcel, let’s have a little chat with Dean Schmick.”
Steven opened the glass entrance door. “Sounds like a plan.”
Nick stuck his head into Marcel’s old laboratory. He flicked his wrist, waving his hand for Steven to start heading towards Dean Schmick’s office. “He’s not here. It doesn’t seem like anyone was ever here,” he said, shutting the door. “Come on.”
The riveting seriousness, quivered in Nick’s eyes. Steven asked, “Do you think he would know anything about his whereabouts? I mean, Marcel did say he was coming here. So where is he?”
“Let’s find out.” Nick padded his feet down the hall, narrowed.
Schmick resided behind his oak wood desk. His desperate attempt at replication of the, esteemed, Oval Office was too obvious. Almost too cliché to make fun of.
He peered into his small, squared, mirror giving inaudible, imaginary, speeches.
Without hesitation, Nick flung his office door open, brushed inside. “Where is he? Where is Marcel?” he said with a suggestive tone.
He fumbled in his maroon, leather, chair, dropping his mirror flat upon his desk. He smiled, coy. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“He came here, but we can’t find him. This is your University, so you must know where he is.”
Schmick rose from his desk, huffed. “Doctor Johnston, and his lunatic ideas, were removed from the premises. He no longer works here. Now, leave or get arrested!”
Nick darted across the desk, plummeted on top of Schmick’s desk, crunching the mirror beneath his steel-toed shoe. He grasped Schmick’s white color then shook him vigorous enough to knock his head back and forth. He droned, slow, “Tell me where he is now.”
“Please,” he pleaded. “I-I d-don’t know. I’m telling you the truth.”
“You’re lying!” Nick whisked his fist, crunched into his face, smashing Schmick’s nose. Blood poured from his nostrils, sending a sort of frenzy inside of Nick.
Schmick’s cheeks wobbled, feared. “What do you want? I don’t know anything.”
Steven wrapped his arms around Nick, pulling him out of the room. “Stop it! I don’t believe he is lying.”
Schmick’s door slammed shut, keeping a barrier between him and any listening ears. He fumbled his hand towards the phone then dialed two, three, eight, and pound. “Agent Kay… Two are here… Yeah, they just left my office.”
A few doors down, Nick slammed his fists into the wall. “What now?”
Steven shook his head, stifled. Before he could answer, a flickered shadow caught his attention. He stalked up against the wall, paused.
Agent Kay, stealthily behind the next corner saw them idle in the hall. “I’ll get them,” she said into her phone before ending the call. She placed her phone deep into her pocket, rounding the corner where she was stopped by the brute force of Steven’s chest. She flailed her arm towards his face, stopped by his wrist. She jumped back, kicking her foot up his chin. He dropped to the ground, winced.
Nick bolted towards them, grabbing her by the throat then slamming her against the concrete wall. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”
“I-I know where your friend is,” she said, struggled. She placed her hand behind her back, and reached into her back pocket. She pulled out a small tube with a tiny red button on the top, leading down a fine-point tip. She clutched it inside her palm.
“Where?” Nick demanded, shoving her face into the wall with his elbow.
“I know. I know!”
He planted her feet on the ground, gripped her by the arm then disarmed her. “Show us.”
Steven grabbed her other arm, helped guide her outside.
•••
Hank kept steady pressure on Calista. “Are you going to shoot me, or what?”
Jane shook. “Let go of her, and maybe I won’t have to.”
He shook his head, pressing on the syringe. She fired a shot, missing him as he ducked out of the way. The bullet pinged into a pipe on the wall, releasing bouts of hot steam.
He dodged the steam, bolting after her. He smashed her down to the floor. Her gun knocked free from her grip. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, kneeing him in the groin. He head-butted her in the nose, freeing her grip. Flat on her back, she reached for her gun as he pulled his out on her. Together, they pulled the trigger; on her stomach, and his heart.
With her last breath, she muttered, “I really did love you.”
Marcel rushed to Calista’s side, attempting to wave away the wet fog. He tugged off the straps, and flicked out the syringe. “Are you okay?” he breathed out. She nodded.
He helped her up then ushered towards the door.
“Wait! Get Christine, too.”
He ran over to her, contemplating how the chair unlatches. Calista, weakened, collapsed on the floor. With her last bit of strength, she edged towards Hank, knocking a box and key ring free from his blazer pocket. She smashed the key fob in a million little pieces then closed her eyes.
Christine collapsed in his arms; he shook, feeling a deep depression when the fog shortly cleared over Calista. “No!” he said, drowned in bursts of tears.
He jumped to her side, clutching her cold body to his chest. He rocked back and forth whimpering loudly. “Calista! No!”
The door wafted in, releasing the steam into the corridor. Steven knelt down, his face warmed. “Marcel….” He stared down onto her.
Nick followed in. His eyes inadvertently drew to a small golden box on the floor. He picked it up, clicked it open. Inside were pictures of a fetus, and then he saw a photo of Emily holding a baby girl.
He sighed then dropped to the floor next to Calista.
Chapter 22
Dusk turned to dawn.
Emily woke to just a sliver of sunlight
escaping through her curtains. She trotted
down the steps then sidled between Maddie and
Trudy only to find no coffee has yet been
brewed. She sco
wled, turned to the living room
in silence.
She paused at the doorway, saddened.
“Nick still hasn’t woke up?” she said as Trudy
rounded behind her with a take-out cup from
Coffee World. “Thanks.”
“No, nor has Calista. Sweetie… it has
been over twelve hours. I think, well, you know.
Maybe it’s time for some arrangements.” “No. We, I, just need to go see him at
the hospital. Maybe my voice will wake him up.” Her mother, glazed with sympathy, patted her on the arm. “You, go. We’ll be fine right
here.” She sauntered over to the front door,
stopped by the line of Red Fates in the plant
holder on her windowsill. “What are we going to
do with these? I mean, I worked so hard raising
them. It’d be a shame to see them wasted. I
mean, if you raise something, you should love it.
Right? No matter how much trouble came along
with it.”
“Yes, but some things are best left in the
past. Whether you raised them, or not, doesn’t
mean you have to keep them. Or, keep reminders of them.”
She stepped out onto the front porch,
smelling the sweet scent of the first spell of
morning dew. Strange as it may seem, that was
her therapy. Something about the mixture of
damp mud, and autumn, always gave her an unwinding-a-tight-knot-in-the-gut feeling. She
gazed over to the swing set, captivated by the
smiling faces of Jack and his daughter. “Hey, you’re up early.”
Jack shrugged. “Well, they do say ‘kids
bring sleepless nights’,” he said, chuckled. “In
this case, they weren’t kidding.”
She giggled, short, and then dropped
her gaze. Yeah, even if you don’t have the child
in your arms, you still worry where they are. “Hey. Are you okay? You look like
you’re about to cry,” Steven said, sneaked up behind her.
She jumped, wiped away a faint tear.
“Uh, no. Just… uh… worried about Nick, is all.” He slipped his hand out of his pocket,
