by JA Huss
CHAPTER FIVE - CASE
I head out of work a couple hours early so I can get up to Lincoln’s house in the mountains at a decent hour. As it is, I’ll probably be there most of the evening, depending on what kind of tests Sheila wants to run on me.
I’m conflicted about how much I want her to know.
Do I want her to figure out what’s wrong with me and make adjustments? Sure. I’d love it if she shot me up with something Lincoln’s been cooking up in that cave of his and all this shit disappeared.
Do I want her to know just how deep these abnormalities run? Just how bad it’s gotten that carving up my skin with a knife is the only way I can find relief?
No. A very big emphatic no.
But there’s almost no chance of her finding out. I’ve been up here so many times for tests. And each time I feel the same way. Hoping she won’t, but wishing she will.
The drive up the pass to Lincoln’s massive six-hundred-plus-acre property starts out wet and ends up icy.
The snow held off all day until the exact moment I need to navigate twisted mountain roads.
My luck is amazing. I can’t get any more blessed than this.
I startle myself with a loud laugh, then shoot a look into the rear-view mirror. My eyes are bloodshot from the nightly activities and there’s a dark shadow forming underneath them.
My palm slaps the spot on my upper left arm where I always carve the same thing, over and over. There’s no pain leftover from my self-inflicted damage. No tenderness. And if I wasn’t wearing a coat and could look at it right now, there’d be no trace of redness, swelling, or scarring.
How many times can I cut myself in the same place and have it leave no mark?
Forever? Does that mean I’m… immortal? How much trauma would it take to kill me? Am I invincible?
I wish I could ask Sheila these questions. But I’m afraid Lincoln would tell Thomas. And after that… well, I’d be out of the plan. They’d send me somewhere. Or maybe just keep me prisoner up here in Lincoln Country.
“Don’t be stupid, Case.” I look at my reflection in the mirror again. “They’d send you straight to the asylum. But hey, at least I’d go to the new building.”
Atticus blew up the old one when he kidnapped his mother. Who is also Molly’s mother. Adopted one, at least. Who knows who her real mother is. Maybe she and Thomas are straight siblings? We’ll never know. All those genetic records were lost when we blew up the Prodigy School back when we were kids.
We might have an unhealthy obsession for explosives.
“No,” I say. It would be a very bad idea to tell Sheila about anything. Let her find it herself… if she can. I’ll deal with that if it happens. But until then, I need to keep my head, keep my own confidence, and try my best to figure this shit out. Maybe when I’m there tonight I can search through Lincoln’s lab notes? They always do the tests in his cave. And I know they have notes on everything they’ve done on the computer in that room. Back when Lincoln was experimenting on himself Sheila would record everything. Adding it to his lengthy health history. Maybe I could get my hands on that? Figure out what this jellyfish stuff really does, and maybe why it’s working so differently on me?
Lincoln’s new driveway is more like a five-mile road. But at least it’s no longer dirt. When he started rebuilding the mansion that’s the first thing he upgraded so the construction crews could have access to the lot where he wanted to build the new house.
The mansion isn’t fully complete yet on the inside, but from the outside you’d never know. It’s a massive ten-thousand-square-foot monstrosity with four levels including the attic and basement, and a guest house in the back that Molly jokingly calls the mother-in-law apartment.
Sheila doesn’t stay there, of course. They did set up her light projectors, but she refuses on principle to be sequestered away from “the family”. Sheila stays in the cave and has limited access to the kitchen, the laundry room, and most of the first floor.
Apparently she’s been cramping Lincoln’s style and the upstairs is verboten.
Didn’t stop her from drafting new plans for a nursery connected to the master bedroom during construction.
I think I might smile for the first time all day just picturing Lincoln and Molly’s face when they walked into their new house for the first time and found a completely outfitted baby’s room.
You gotta appreciate Sheila’s tenacity.
Molly isn’t ready for a baby yet. She’s just settling into her detective job for the CCPD. And Linc? Well, I don’t know if Lincoln will ever be fit to parent a child.
Their house comes into view and I take a moment to appreciate the dark gray, stone manor.
It’s snowing pretty good by the time I get out of the car and I find myself wishing I had just gone home.
Gone is the hope of finding anything out. I just know something is wrong and it’s got nothing to do with what Sheila and Linc did to me.
But I just tuck my coat collar up around my neck and head to the door. It opens before I even get there, holographic Sheila ready to greet me.
“Case,” she says, waving me in and ordering the door to close behind via some unseen mechanism. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say, slipping my winter coat off and stomping my shoes on the mat before I enter the massive great room. “Where’s Linc?”
“Waiting for you downstairs.”
“Molly?” I ask.
“Still at work. I told her to take it easy. She shouldn’t be overdoing things in her condition.”
“She’s—”
“Not yet.” Sheila smirks as we walk towards the hidden panel built into the wall on the north side of the main living area fireplace. “But she will be shortly. Mark my words.”
I drop the subject of Molly’s nonexistent pregnancy and just walk down the spiral stone steps that lead to the lab.
The wave pattern of the huge jellyfish tanks reflects along the walls, getting brighter and brighter until the steps sweep around one final corner and it all comes into view.
This is the new entrance. Linc has been super-paranoid about anyone using the tunnel to access the cave since we took down Blue Corp. We can’t risk anyone following one of us and compromising it. In fact, the tunnel got a new foot-thick steel door to replace that broken-down old grate that used to prevent access.
“Hey,” Lincoln says, lying down on a rolling creeper, his feet pushing off on a giant red tool box and sliding across the floor. He slips smoothly underneath one of his muscle cars, wrench in hand, and resumes whatever he’s been doing down here all day.
Sometimes I envy Lincoln. No job, no responsibilities. Doesn’t even have to leave his damn house if he doesn’t want to. Just walks down to his dungeon and gets right to work doing… well, whatever the fuck it is he does down here. Lab shit. Computer shit. Who knows? Maybe mad scientist shit.
“Sheila says you’re gonna get another workup,” Linc says, still tinkering.
“Yup,” I say, sighing.
“You got problems I should know about?” This time he slides out from under the car just enough to make eye contact.
“Nope,” I say. “Where’s Thomas? He said he was coming for dinner.”
Lincoln eyes me for a few seconds before scooting back under the car to continue working. “He’ll be here soon, I think. He’s picking Molly up so she doesn’t have to drive in the snow.”
“Well, I could’ve done that. You should’ve told me.”
“No big deal,” Lincoln says. “Besides, Sheila wanted you here early so she could get started.”
“I have the room all ready for you,” Sheila says. “It’s all comfy and clean.” Big smile on her face like I’m some child she needs to convince to be good for a shot.
I roll my eyes and walk away from Linc, down the hallway to the operating room. “What’s the plan then?” I ask. “Nothing’s wrong as far as I can tell.”
“Well, Case,” Sheila says, appearing in the room
before I even get there, “I’m not sure you’d even know what to look for. Which is why you’re lucky to have me as your doctor.”
The machines and computers all flick on and I let my eyes linger on the computer screen for a moment, just to check if they’ve got it locked down. They do, but Sheila opens it up and data starts scrolling from her internal commands.
I’m sure there’s a screen lock, but I’m also pretty sure that it’s on a timer that lasts at least fifteen minutes. Sheila and Lincoln used to work in here alone before she took over the bots and he was changed. When you have no extra hands, you can’t be stopping to unlock your computer every few minutes.
I watch it as robot minions start crawling up my legs with monitoring wires.
“Take off your shirt, Case. They need skin.”
I nod to Sheila, but keep track of the screen out of the corner of my eye as I take off my suit coat and tie, then pull my shirt out of my pants and start unbuttoning it. The minion bots wait patiently on the operating table until I’m done, and then get to work hooking me up to… well, whatever it is Sheila hooks me up to when we do this shit.
I’m used to the minions by now. At first it was creepy as fuck to have those spider-bots crawling all over my body, but really, they are just Sheila using another body. Not semi-intelligent autonomous machines.
One of them crawls onto my hand and pricks my finger, then holds a small glass tube against the flow of blood. Before I can even complain about the lack of warning, it scurries down my pant leg, drops to the floor and climbs up the lab bench where the biggest piece of equipment in here—Hammer, Linc’s robotic arm—takes it and proceeds to smear it on a slide and place it under a microscope.
Another prick draws my attention back to the minions. This time they have a needle in my arm and blood is streaming through a tube.
I glare at Sheila.
“You’re always such a baby when it comes to blood. Best to just get it over with.”
“How long is this gonna take?” I ask. I’m hungry. “And what’s for dinner? Better be steak.”
“Patience, please. We can’t rush the tests. I feel like I’ve been missing something. So I’m going to do more this time. Look for everything.” She stops to stare at me in that motherly way she always uses on Lincoln. “You’d tell me if something was off, wouldn’t you, Case?”
“Sure,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well… some people are more afraid of results than they are procedures. You might be one of them.”
“When have I ever given you shit for all this… well, all this shit you do to me? And let me remind you, I never asked for the jellyfish goop. I was just fine before you guys stuck me and filled me with healing genes.”
I must’ve said something wrong because Sheila is giving me a very strange look for that outburst. “What do you mean… healing genes? We didn’t vector you, Case. We gave you some enzymes, that’s it. Which break down in the bloodstream after forty-eight hours. Do you know something I’m not aware of?”
“No,” I say, defensively. “I don’t even know what ‘vector you’ means. I just repeat shit I hear.”
She stares at me longer than I think is necessary, but I don’t look away. She’ll know I’m hiding something for sure if I do that. “Well, I’m gonna figure out why you look like shit.”
“Maybe I’m just tired and overworked? You ever think of that? Thomas and his grand plan has me running all over the place these days. Not to mention all the shit that went down this morning.”
“Maybe…” Sheila says. But I can tell she’s not convinced.
“And stop saying I look like shit, OK? I take it personally. I’m sensitive like that.”
She laughs and looks away. “Sure you are.”
“I’m probably not eating right. I need more vitamins or something.”
“We’ll see,” she says, turning away from the computer, screen-lock not engaged. “It’s gonna take a little while for the tests to run. Do you want to sleep for a little bit? Rest up before dinner?”
And even though this is just the lucky break I needed and I don’t need to be so enthusiastic, I say, “Yeah, sure,” and mean it. I really could use some fucking sleep. I’m sure as hell not getting any at home.
“OK,” she says, coming over to pat my leg. Being touched by Sheila is weird. It’s not pressure, but a combination of heat and light.
Kinda like that shit leaking out of my body when I cut myself.
“You rest up in here and I’ll help Lincoln finish up whatever he’s doing to that car.” And then she flicks the light off and disappears.
“Thank you,” I mutter, lying back on the cold table. It feels so good on my bare skin, I almost moan. I kinda wish I had a Sheila. I like her hovering mother-in-law act. It would be nice, actually, to have someone caring for you all the time. Someone invested in your well-being. Someone to love you…
I almost drift off, that’s how exhausted I am, when I suddenly sit up, remembering why I needed her to leave me in here to begin with.
The lock screen still hasn’t engaged, so I slip off the table, fish my key chain out of my suit coat pocket, and then slide the flash drive I keep on it into the hard drive of the medical computer and go searching for what I need.
Ten minutes later I’ve got it all downloaded and this time when I lie back on the cold, steel table, I close my eyes and let the world drift away for real.
CHAPTER SIX - LULU
“Where did you learn how to do all this?” I ask Randy. We’re up in the mountains about two miles from the western edge of Lincoln Wade’s massive estate, looking down at a drone in the back of Randy’s department SUV.
“Air Force,” he replies absently. He’s messing with a tablet. Presumably programming the drone to fly over the estate so we can get surveillance images.
We spent the entire morning coming up with a plan. I did my best to talk him out of us—meaning he and I—doing all this spy stuff ourselves, but he insisted that the CCPD has been compromised and we can’t enlist them for help. The drone was his idea. I barely know what a drone does, let alone how to fly one.
“I was a surveillance expert. Joined the military when I was eighteen, got accepted into a special tech ops unit, and this was all I did for three years.”
“When did you have time for law school?” I ask, backing up as Randy takes the machine out and places it on a tripod so he can launch.
“What?” he asks, not looking at me.
“Law school?” I repeat.
“Oh, I only enlisted so I could pay for college.” He stops to wink at me. “I realize I’m kind of a catch, but I’m older than I look.”
I take a sip of cinnamon-flavored coffee and consider that. He is kind of a catch. Still unshaven, still half-put together. Still hotter today than he was yesterday.
“Anyway, I got this, Lulu. Just hold on to the tablet and step back for a minute.”
I set my coffee down on the tailgate of the car, take the tablet, and do as he says. He picks up a two-handed controller with lots of little dials and joysticks on it, and starts working.
The drone is bigger than I thought it would be when he first mentioned it back at the office. When you see them on TV they look small. Like toys. But this thing has a wingspan of four feet. It barely fit in the car, even with all the seats down.
The propellers whirl, Randy gets a child-like look of glee on his face, and then it takes off. Straight up, like a helicopter.
“OK,” Randy says. “I’ve got Wade’s house marked in red. Come over here so I can see the screen as I fly.”
I scoot closer to him, using him as a windbreak. It’s not snowing, at least. Not yet. Which is why Randy dragged me up here after lunch. But it’s damn cold and the wind, though slight, is biting at my face.
“There it is,” Randy says, looking down at my tablet where the drone’s-eye view is on screen. “I’m gonna land on the roof.”
“What? No, we can’t land on the roof. That’s pr
ivate property. I’m not even sure being over his house is legal. Who owns the air space?” I might need to look this up. I feel like we’re skirting the edge of the law here.
“The government owns the air space, Lulu. Besides, I got a warrant this morning. We’re fine. I wouldn’t risk getting this evidence thrown out in court.”
“When did you have time to get a warrant?”
“Lulu,” he says, losing his patience a little. “I’m the fucking DA. I have a hundred people working under me. I don’t need to get warrants myself. I send someone in, they talk to the judge, and bam. It’s done. Now, look at the roof. Do you see the chimney on the far east side of the house?”
“Yes,” I say, looking down at my tablet.
“I’m gonna land it there, the robotic arm is going to mount a camera, and then I’ll bring it home and we can get out of here. Sound good?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “It’s cold up here.” And this feels like spying. I’m not a spy. I’m not a detective. I’m a lawyer. I don’t think my job description includes covert drone surveillance.
He does all that as I watch. I desperately want more coffee. I want to wrap my hands around the warm cup and take long sips. So I stay quiet as he works everything out.
Thirty minutes later I’m an icicle, the drone is back in the car, and we’re on our way home.
“What are you doing for dinner?” Randy asks as we make our way back into Cathedral City.
“Dinner?” I’m so tired right now. “I think I’ll just go home and make a frozen meal.”
“What?” Randy says, making his way to the right side of the freeway so we can exit at D Street. “No. Come on. I’ll take you somewhere nice. My treat.” He looks over at me and smiles. “To make up for the unusual day.”
“Unusual doesn’t even cover it,” I say. I don’t want to go to dinner with him, even though I’ve been thinking all day about how much better-looking he is today than he was yesterday. “I think I’ll—”
