He walked to the driver’s side door and got in. When he turned the keys the engine coughed four times and then stopped. Diego rubbed the steering wheel. He turned the keys again. The engine turned over weakly a few times then stopped.
“Did you put gas in it?” she asked.
Diego stopped and stared at her. His face was blank as he got out of the car and walked to a gas can that sat on the work bench. Kizzy grinned, then realized he was about to make an awful mistake.
“Wait a second,” she said. “Is that regular gasoline?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Gas only lasts about a year. That stuff will ruin the engine.”
“Are you sure?” Diego asked, looking at the can in his hands.
“Positive. I’ve accidentally done it before.”
She took the can from him. “Go and get me some cooking oil and rubbing alcohol if they have any.” There was a tool cabinet and she rummaged through all the cans until she found a bottle of fuel cleaner. She added it to the gas and began to swirl it around.
Diego came back with the other two ingredients. Kizzy added the other liquids and mixed them all together. They began to bubble and emit a heady gas. “Here, this should work.”
Diego smelled the mixture and looked up at her with a doubtful face.
“It’ll work,” she said, sitting down on the steps. She was beginning to feel weak.
Diego poured the mixture into the gas tank and got back into the driver’s seat. He turned the key. The engine coughed a few times and the whole thing began to shake violently from side to side as if it were fighting to come to life. Diego turned the key again. The engine coughed and belched. Finally it started, but it was running louder than it should have been. That was normal. It would be fine. Diego’s face lit up. Kizzy smiled and gave him a thumbs up with her good hand.
“I told you,” said Kizzy.
“You got lucky.”
“I’ll go get the whiskey,” she shouted over the loud roar of the motor.
Diego nodded.
She ran to the living room, grabbed the bottle and in the kitchen she found some nice champagne glasses from the cabinet. But they were a little dusty, so she brought them to the sink to rinse them.
She couldn’t believe they had gotten the car to start. They must have walked five miles the night before. Once they got a hold of some better wheels they could be in New York within an hour, if all the roads were clear. Finding the wheels would be difficult though. She looked out the window to see how the tires on those other cars appeared to be.
In the woods, fifty feet away, four policemen snuck towards the house. Their guns were drawn. Kizzy ducked. They hadn’t noticed her, their eyes were focused on the garage. They must have heard the car’s engine. She quietly backed away from the sink. A policeman suddenly appeared at the window. Kizzy gasped as he opened fire with his gun. The glass shattered and a dart pierced Kizzy in the leg. She bolted for the garage, her leg becoming numb as she ran.
The house’s front door was smashed in by two cops with a battering ram. Kizzy stumbled into the garage and locked the door behind her. The car’s motor was still running. Her waist and abdomen were now numb. Diego was putting some oil in the engine. His eyes went huge when he saw the dart in her leg.
“The cops are here!” she yelled.
“What should we do?” he asked.
“Will that thing drive?”
Diego glanced at the tire-less rear wheels then back to Kizzy with his eyebrows furrowed. Kizzy hopped down to the floor of the garage and fell into the passenger seat. She pulled the dart from her leg. Her whole upper body was now numb, as well as both her legs. Diego climbed into the driver’s seat and looked around at the car’s controls, as if for the first time.
“I just hope this thing is front wheel drive,” said Diego as he looked over at her. “Otherwise this is going to be a short trip.”
The door from the house was smashed open. A cop jumped down besides the car and tried to open Kizzy’s door. She went to reach for the handle but her arms wouldn’t move. Diego put the shifter down to reverse and slammed on the gas. The front tires threw up clouds of black smoke and soot as they spun. When they finally gripped the floor the car jerked back.
The rear end of the car bounced violently off the floor as it fell off the cement blocks. The front of the car stuck in the air at an awkward angle and shot backwards. There was a loud crash as they broke through the aluminum garage door. They flew in reverse down the driveway. Kizzy noticed the garage door was torn from the house and one unfortunate police officer hadn’t gotten out of the way in time. He and three other policemen had been waiting in ambush outside the garage door.
Diego continued with his foot pressed to the floor. He turned the wheel to the right ever so slightly, but then the rear end of the car smashed into something. Kizzy’s body slammed back into her seat. Diego glanced in the mirror. “Telephone pole.”
The windshield was shot through with dart fire. Diego ducked down behind the dashboard. He put the car in drive and slammed on the gas. The wheels sprayed dust as it peeled off down the street. The car’s tail scraped loudly on the pavement as they drove off down the dark road. Kizzy could barely turn her head to see the policemen chasing after them. They soon faded into the distance. The numbness had spread to her neck and face. The sparks and smoke from the car’s dragging back end were the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.
17
The car drove off into the night, it’s tail end grinding loudly against the asphalt, spraying sparks and smoke as it went. Leo chased for as long as he could, until his lungs began to burn and his muscles cramped. It was no use. He leaned over with his hands on his knees and panted. Maybe if he had been stuck at a younger age, but not now. He looked back to the house. Those maniacs had driven over somebody who had been stupid enough to be waiting outside the garage door.
He approached as his fellow officer’s gathered around their fallen brother. Leo froze when he realized who it had been. The red hair was a dead away.
“Is he ok?” he asked a lost looking lieutenant who glanced back at him. His name was Tommy Henderson. He was a good kid, always did as he was told.
“He’s dead,” Tommy said. He looked down at the ground shaking his head. “They drove right over him.”
Leo went numb. “Are you sure?”
Tommy nodded.
“Ok,” Leo said, suddenly feeling dizzy. He tried to steady himself. “Ok. I guess I’ll call it back into the station and request backup.”
“Who’s in charge now?” Tommy asked. “Who’s the assistant chief?
“Just go and take care of his body. We’ll have to bury it.”
“Who’s the assistant chief?”
“I am,” said Leo, shaking his head. Unfortunately his seniority counted for something and it meant more responsibility and more paperwork. And now he would be on the Yanloo City Committee with Morrigan, Dr. Patel and Henry from the canal office. He was suddenly one of the four most powerful men on the planet.
“Well, I have to suggest, sir, that we call off this pursuit,” Tommy said. “Nobody needs to know they got away.”
Leo stared at the limp body laying in the driveway. In the years since the plague, Chip had been the closest thing he ever had to a friend. He had been so hellbent on getting things back to the way they were, so focused on the thought of the woman that he loved in her self-inflicted exile, that he shut out everyone completely. He was a shell of the man he used to be, and he hadn’t gotten any closer to solving the puzzle. “No. We won’t ever call off the pursuit.”
∞
Medea looked at her watch. It was noon and time for lunch. She wasn’t very hungry though, there was an anxious pool in the pit of her stomach. As she walked to her house the desolate fields were a remi
nder that everything in her world had been devastated. And her daughter would no longer be around to help her through it. Her heart ached at the thought.
She entered the kitchen door, wiped her shoes and gasped when she saw a man sitting at the table. He was dressed in a red robe and little cap, like some sort of priest.
“I helped myself to some coffee,” he said with a smile.
“Who are you?” she hissed.
“I’m looking for your daughter.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“They won’t be here in time to help you,” he said. “It would be better for you if you just cooperated.”
A strange looking man in a green suit emerged from Kizzy’s bedroom. He looked like a burn victim
“The police will be coming back any minute,” Medea said, although it was a lie. Two officers had stopped by earlier that morning to search the house before heading out into the woods with the dogs. They wouldn’t be back for hours.
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure we hurry then, don’t we?” the priest said. “I’m Father Morrigan. Please have a seat.” He gestured to an empty chair.
She slowly walked and sat down, making sure she kept her posture erect, even though she was terrified.
Father Morrigan took a salt shaker from the center of the table, removed the top and dumped it out onto the wood. He began to spread it out in front of him with an open hand.
“You know why I’m looking for Kizzy?” he asked, not looking up.
“Because she killed that musician,” Medea said.
He stopped brushing the salt for a moment and bit his lip and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, you’re right.” He began to drag his finger, creating little circles in the salt. “And I just want to figure a few things out.”
“Like what?”
“Like where is she going?”
“Isn’t that the police’s job?” Medea asked.
“The police have screwed this up royally. They came to your house because they accidentally shot up my computer system, and thought she had mailed herself here. No, I’ve decided that I should be on the case.”
“Well, I don’t know anything,” she said.
“You don’t know or you don’t want to say?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes and keeping the gaze. His eyes were tiny, like a rat’s.
“I don’t know.”
“Is your daughter normally violent?”
“Yes,” Medea said.
“What else has she done?”
“She hit one of her teachers.”
“So she’s a re-offender?”
Medea kept quiet, realizing that it was stupid to tell him anything.
“I’m looking for her because she took something from me,” he said. The words came out like a typewriter. “Me and my brother weren’t at peace. And she took him off the face of this earth. Now that debt between me and him is left forever unpaid. Now, as it stands, there’s too many uneven things lying around. Your daughter and some boy are still out there. There’s some debate as to whether he was an accomplice, but that’s irrelevant at this point. She killed my brother and he helped her, that’s all I need to know. So I’m going to find them and I’m going to hurt them, bad. They’re going to wish they were dead.”
The calmness in how Father Morrigan spoke these things sent shivers down Medea’s spine. It was as if he had no soul within him. She began to shake. Was there a chance the police could be here soon?
Morrigan poured more salt out onto the table. “So you have to help me. Where did they go?” he drew a question mark in the salt. “Why did they go there?” another question mark. “What are they gonna do when they get there?” yet another question mark. “So many questions!” he said looking up at her with a deranged smile. “Answer them.”
“I don’t know,” Medea said.
“You don’t know?” he asked. “Somebody has got to know something about this. We had to strangle his roommate with a dirty sock. Lord knows I don’t want to have to do that again.”
“Maybe they went further into the woods?” Medea whispered.
“But why?” he sang up to the ceiling. “What’s out there? There needs to be a reason.”
“She’s running for her life,” Medea said. A tear dropped down her cheek.
“What’s so great about her life?” he asked. “Look, every single person over past twenty years has handed themselves in after they killed somebody, whether it was purposeful or not. What makes her any different?”
“She’s dying,” Medea said. “She’s immune to the pill. I don’t know, I think it made her desperate.”
Father Morrigan was quiet for a moment as he stared at his salt pile. “Come on, don’t lie to me.”
“No it’s true. And she loved that man’s music and I took it away from her. I had no idea she’d do something like this.”
“Then you’re to blame for all of this,” he said standing up, reaching into his robe and taking out a long pair of scissors.
“No, I swear it’s not my fault,” Medea said.
Morrigan stepped towards her.
She pushed the table away and ran for the front door. She opened it, but Morrigan was right behind her and slammed it shut. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to the table.
She screamed for help, but the sound just echoed through the house.
He laughed. “I don’t know why everyone thinks lying will get them out of this.” He grabbed her hand and pushed down all her fingers except for her pinky.
She tried to scratch his eyes with her other hand.
He stuck her finger in between the blades.
The man in the shabby green suit came to the table with a piece of paper.
Morrigan looked at it for a moment then stopped. “Your daughter really is immune?”
“Yes,” Medea sobbed. “I told you.”
“I keep getting so close to actually taking a finger,” he said shaking his head. He let her go and set the scissors down on the table to read the printout. “Does she know it?” he asked as he turned to Medea. “That she’s immune?”
“Yes, that’s what caused this whole disaster,” she said. She eyed the scissors sitting on the table. Could she be fast enough?
“Francis and his stupid map,” Morrigan said with a sigh. “She’s must be looking for the Enoch Headquarters.” He smiled, it was almost innocent. “All these years I’ve been trying to kill the leaves, but now I can cut out the root.”
“Let her live,” Medea said.
“Of course I will,” he said. “She’s of no use to me dead. Dennis, go and prepare the box. I’m going to go and get the little bastards.”
Medea snatched the scissors from the table and swung them at Morrigan’s face. The man in green caught her hand, yanked them from her and pushed her to the floor as if she was a child.
The two men walked to the door. Medea leaned up onto her arm. Father Morrigan turned. “If we don’t find her we’re coming back here, so don’t go taking any long trips. I’m going to cut off somebody’s finger before this is all said and done.”
Then they left. Medea sat on the floor and cried. Her body shook. She couldn’t believe she was still alive. She grabbed a cloth from the drawer and wrapped it around her bleeding finger.
She gazed out the window as a Cadillac pulled from the driveway. She scribbled down the license plate number. The police were going to hear about this. She squinted. There was only one person in the car. Where had the other man gone? She looked out the window overlooking the field and saw something so terrifying she couldn’t believe it was real.
∞
Kizzy dreamed of crows and fire, feathers and flame.
“Are you alive in there?” came a voice from the land of the living.<
br />
She felt a tremor through her body. She shook her head and tried to slip back into sleep. The tremor came again.
She opened her eyes. Diego was shaking her. His eyes were tired and worried, as if he were on the edge of extreme lonesomeness. She tried to say ‘stop’ but no voice came from her mouth. The air just passed through her vocal chords. She tried again, exhaling deeply from her gut, but there was just no sound.
They were inside a large dark building, amidst rows and rows of cots to her left and right. It must have been some sort of shelter from the time of the plague. Again she tried to speak but her throat remained inert. She sat up. It required a massive amount of effort, as if her whole body was being pulled down by heavy weights. Her brain felt swollen inside her skull. Diego was sitting on the edge of the bed, blinking, trying to stay awake.
“Can you talk?” he asked. He stared at her with squinted eyes.
Kizzy tried to speak again. Nothing but air. She shook her head ‘no’.
“Why not?” he asked.
Kizzy pointed to her thigh where the dart had hit her. It was swollen and still numb.
“You can’t talk... because of your leg?”
She shook her head. She mimed the dart flying through the air and into her leg.
“The tranquilizer? You think that did it?”
Kizzy threw up her hands, as if to say ‘I don’t know’.
“How is your hand?” he asked.
Kizzy saw that her right hand still had the white towel wrapped around it. She carefully pulled it open. It had gotten worse. The fingers and the back of her hand were swollen to almost unrecognizable levels. The blisters were oozing. She felt repulsion just looking at it. What if it was seriously infected? Could she lose her hand? Her brain was still too foggy to feel the pain, but she knew it was coming. And when it did, it would be really, really bad. She looked up to Diego and grimaced, so he’d know just how bad it would be.
The Enoch Pill Page 18
