by Jobe, David
Stephen sputtered. “Pick it up, I said!”
“I heard you,” replied Lanton. “I’m just not going to do it.” He crossed his arms.
“How ca-.”
Grimm stepped from behind him, jabbing a taser into Stephen’s neck and pulling the trigger.
Stephen gasped and then did a short little shuffling dance before he fell stiff-limbed into the grass beyond the patio. Spittle foamed around the man’s mouth as his eyes lost focus.
“You took a real risk with that. How did he not affect you? We knew his power was verbal.” Grimm looked down at the twitching man, pulling cuffs from his belt. “I had to hotfoot it once he mentioned the knife. Thought for sure you were going to open a vein.”
Lanton stared hard at the man who had destroyed so many lives and shrugged. “He made me queasy, but I felt no real motivation to do what he said. It felt like I was hearing an echo every time he spoke.”
Grimm grinned. “Maybe you have a superpower. But it’s being immune to other people’s superpowers.”
“Then how am I beguiled by your wit and charm?”
“Because it’s not super, it’s practical. And practiced.” Grimm handcuffed Stephen and then began to fit him with a ball gag. “You know this could get us in serious trouble.”
“The ball gag, or the arresting him?”
“Both. But now that I think about it, there’s no way this is going to stand up in court.”
Lanton nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s a new world, and we are going to have to start making new laws to accommodate it. Cyberstalking wasn’t a thing until someone got pinched for it.”
Grimm nodded. “True, but I still think the ball gag is bad form. At least this kind. I mean, it’s pretty obvious what this was supposed to be for.”
“Do tell,” Lanton said.
“Just saying it’s a lawsuit, is all.” Grimm tried to raise the handcuffed man to his feet.
“Asimov!” Lanton shouted over his left shoulder. “Did you get all of that?”
The sky above Lanton’s left shoulder shimmered and then revealed a hovering device. It had a white body with black circles at the four edges that housed the rotating blades. At the center sat a 360 camera recorded everything. It floated closer, its body tilting down a bit to move it toward them. Asimov’s voice came through the earpiece Lanton wore. “From start to finish, Detective Lanton. A full 360 view of the arrest, including your,” it paused for a moment as if searching its vast memory for the proper term, “attempts at banter.”
Lanton chuckled. “You’re not funny, Mac.”
Mac also spoke through the earpiece, his voice sounding amused. “That wasn’t me. Asimov is as close to an A.I. as I could come. And apparently, he’s decided you aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
The black and white drone rotated and moved closer to Grimm and Stephen. As Grimm walked the man back toward their squad car, the drone followed, making sure to capture any exchange between the two men.
Lanton stood and stared at the assembly of people who now watched from the railing. They eyed him with wary suspicion and watched the uniformed officer walk away with his captive. “Hello.” He felt foolish, but he figured this would not be the first time he would have to make odd announcements like this. “I am Detective Monty Lanton of the Indianapolis Police, and head of the Altered Division. I am arresting this man on suspicion of using an Altered power to coerce and kill several people.” Their faces changed from suspicion to shock then fear. “Do not be afraid; we are here to restore peace and order.”
Someone shouted out, “Are you part of the Angels of Indianapolis?!”
Lanton blinked. “The what?”
A younger woman stepped forward, tugging at a single braid on the left side of her head. “The Angels of Indianapolis. The Cherub, the Angel of Death and the Archangel. Are you part of them?”
Lanton stared at them, dumbfounded for a few moments. “No. No. I am with the police department.”
A chorus of groans filled the air.
Finally, someone said, “then you’re on the wrong team.”
Chapter Three
Death Doll
Carrie Anne La Morte stood in absolute silence. The distant hum from the freezers lost to her as she stared at the body of Sarah “Miss Fire” Givens. The corpse had already begun to show signs of decomposition, black lines of dying veins lacing the soft alabaster of her skin. Carrie Anne had seen this more times than she cared to admit. Being a coroner in a large city meant that she had seen her fair share of gruesome corpses, but for some reason, this one haunted her. The left arm showed signs of serious damage, the lower half of it blown off. It sat in a plastic baggy next to the body, arranged so that the gap between the two parts felt amplified. Carrie Anne had no doubt there remained tiny bits and pieces of the arm all over Interstate 70. It wasn’t the missing arm that caught her attention, but the havoc wreaked on her eyes. They had been blown out through the back of her head, and no matter at what angle you viewed the corpse, the damage to the back of the head was visible, it had done that much destruction.
“They did a real number on you.” She broke the silence, speaking to the corpse. “Sadly, your ordeal isn’t done.” She pulled a scalpel off the silver tray that sat next to her and moved a gloved finger down the right arm until she reached the point where the left arm ended. “You see, I need something from you.” She began to cut the dead skin on the right arm, slicing with care through the skin and then the muscle. “If I do this right, no one will know what took place.” After the skin and muscle had been cut down to the bone around the circumference of the arm, she set the scalpel down and picked up a bone saw. “This’ll just take a moment. Then it’ll be my turn.” She made short work of the bone, pulling the severed arm away from the body. She held it up to the light, turning it in small semi-circles to appraise it. “It doesn’t look impressive, but I can feel the power within it.” She grinned down at the corpse. “Give me just a few, and I’ll return with my offering to you.”
She walked away, slipping into the back room of the lab. Once inside she locked the door and sat down at a long metal table. She set the arm down before her like an offering. Leaning over, she placed her right arm next to the severed limb. With a sharpie, she drew a line down her own skin that matched the cut line. “I could cheat, and shoot myself up with all sorts of painkillers and things to deaden the pain, but that’d be spitting into the eyes of the Gods. Tattoos hold their power because they require a payment of pain. So this must require the same.” She leaned in and kissed the cold flesh of Sarah’s arm, marveling as it somehow felt warm to her lips. Then she lit a few candles that adorned the steel table before pulling out another scalpel from a sterilizing jar. “Must work quickly.” She then jammed a thick line of rubber tubing between her teeth and began cutting along the sharpie line in her arm. The process seemed to go on for ages, but when she looked up at the clock, only a few minutes had passed. Blood flowed in gushing waves from her severed arm. She scooped up the stolen limb and pressed it against the stub of her arm. Blood spurted out between the two pieces for a few tense seconds before it began to subside. After half a minute Carrie Anne began to clean off the wound, removing the blood until only the thin scar line became visible between her arm and the attached limb. Spitting out the tubing, she smiled wide. After a few more moments, she began to work on flexing the fingers of her new hand. After they began to twitch, she whispered a low prayer in her native tongue. “The Gods are kind.”
Still a bit woozy, she picked up her old arm and walked out, planning to place it next to the corpse of Sarah Givens. The skin color wouldn’t match, but she doubted anyone else would be taking a look at the body. She unlocked the door to her inner lab and slid open the door. Taking one step in she stopped, mouth falling open. The body of Sarah Givens had vanished.
“Merda!” She cussed in Portuguese. She took her severed arm and hid it in the back of her office drawer where she had been keeping a large con
tainer of graham crackers. Slamming the drawer shut, she picked up her cell phone. It took her a bit to manage dialing the number, but after a while it began to ring.
“Detective Lanton.”
“Detective, It’s Miss La Morte.” She stared at the empty table before her. Tiny drops of blood dotted the table, but no other sign of where the corpse might have gone.
“I know. What can I help you with?”
“Are you still in the hospital?” She wondered how he knew but then realized he probably had her cell programmed into his phone.
“I am. What’s up?” Lanton sounded upset about something. His tone cracked when he spoke.
She looked around the room for a moment. “Not on the phone. Can you come down to the morgue?” There might still be someone here.
“Very cloak and dagger, Carrie. Does this hospital even have a morgue?”
La Morte made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Fine, can you come to the basement freezer where they like to whimsically display their dead people?”
“I’d prefer not to.” Definitely something, maybe sorrow in his voice.
“I’m afraid I must insist.” She walked across the room to start to open the freezers one by one.
“Fine.”
“Chop chop.” Her nervousness bubbled out in the form of a short giggle. She blinked and shook her head. “Before I vanish too.” She ended the call.
“Los Biembeins?” She called out to the room. “Have the gods sent you to punish me?”
Chapter Four
A Civic Duty
Brian Lockhart eased his book closed after the door made its familiar whirling noise. A moment later the door slid sideways to reveal Doctor Jesuit Patton. The doctor had forgone the usual white lab coat and today wore a tailored suit of black with grey pinstripes. The suit looked impressive on his muscular frame, giving Brian the feel that he sat in the presence of a famous movie star. In his hands, he held one of those tablets that doctors at hospitals had started to use recently. He imagined all of his medical stats were readily available for the doctor. He had a suspicion things that did not belong in any of Brian’s records were also there. Every time the doctor looked at Brian, he remembered his former science teacher, Mr. Stevenson. Mr. Stevenson had taken great joy in tripping his students up with cleverly worded questions that tricked the student into answering a wrong answer.
Doctor Patton gave Brian a tight smile. “Mr. Lockhart. How are you feeling today?” He stepped in, and the door closed with another whirling noise.
“The headaches have gotten better. I can read now for longer than a few minutes.”
Doctor Patton swiped his finger across the surface of the tablet a few times, nodding. “What’re you reading now?”
Brian looked at the book on his lap, his mind blanking for the title. “Starship Troopers. It’s not much like the movie, though.”
“They made a movie of it? Was it any good?” Doctor Patton actually sounded interested.
Brian shook his head with a chuckle. “Well, not really. So far it comes across as campy compared to the book. I liked it when I first watched it. Bugs, boobs, and blood. All that. I don’t think I could watch it all the way through a second time.”
Doctor Patton frowned. “That’s a shame.”
“Doctor. Whose book is this anyway?”
Doctor Patton moved across the open space to stand at the foot of Brian’s bed. “Mine. From my personal collection. In fact, what you’re holding is the first book I ever purchased with my own money. Why do you ask?”
Brian swallowed and looked down at the book. It appeared brand new. “It is?” He picked it up, his hands shaking. “It’s just. Well, I noticed that you highlighted a rather large section of one chapter. I was curious about that.”
Doctor Patton smiled, “I highlighted a few sections, but the first one was the discussion about why a citizen should have to serve in the military first.”
Brian nodded. “Right. Why’d you highlight that section?”
Pulling up one of the chairs by the bed, Doctor Patton sat down. “When I bought the book, we were just coming out of several wars, and looking to possibly go right into another one. Men and women were arguing over how just the wars were, but they didn’t seem to have a clue as to what to do about the conflict without using force. Violent force. It occurred to me that if I wanted to make sure my words carried any value, I might have to first do my part. And if I wanted to speak with clarity, I needed to see how the other side lived. So, I joined up. And while the country was not at war, I was sent to war zones. Some weren’t labeled that, but there was people that needed to be killed. Just like in the book, where it opens with a surgical strike. Granted, I didn’t have to parachute in anywhere, but I was involved in a few missions to cause chaos. I believe that book, and that chapter in particular molded me to be the man I am today.”
Brian set the book down at his feet in front of the doctor. “I didn’t realize it was so important to you. You can have it back.”
Patton shook his head. “The chore of the elders is to pass on knowledge to the youth. My son may be a bit thick headed, but you seem to have a bit more clarity in your thoughts. You keep it. Just take good care of it, and one day I hope you pass it on to someone else.”
“Thank you.” It was the only words Brian could find for a few moments. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“You may ask any question that you wish. I’ll answer if I deem it appropriate and within the scope of what you are allowed to know.” He set the tablet on his knees.
Brian stared at the doctor for a moment but shook off the weird answer. “Knowing what you do now, would you sign up again?”
“I’d have signed up sooner. I’d have taken those classes in high school that better prepared you for life as a soldier. It took me a bit too long to get used to taking orders.” He grinned. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I know you’ve come to ask me again if I’m willing to sign up to be your lab rat. I know it’ll lead to the betterment of people, and all that, but I still feel hesitant.” He sighed and leaned his head against the smooth cold white wall.
“Hesitant is understandable. Let me ask you. What is it you fear might happen if you join up?”
“Pain, for starters.”
Dr. Patton nodded. “There will be pain. And lots of it. I’ll not sugarcoat it. The nature of your powers baffles me at the moment, and I have several theories that’ll need the proper testing. None will risk your life, but there’ll be pain. That being said, I am willing to compensate you for that pain. You’ll be in my employ, and since your work here is unique, you’ll be adequately compensated.”
Brian sat forward. “You say that my power is baffling? How so?”
Dr. Patton rose, swiping away on his tablet for a few moments. “Here is where we reach a crossroads, Mr. Lockhart. I’m willing to share most of my information with you, but I must protect the knowledge I have gathered. I trust you, but if you want to discuss what I know, especially pertaining to you, I have to have you sign this nondisclosure agreement.” He flipped the tablet around to show a page full of text, with a line at the bottom. “What it says is that any information you obtain while here, will be considered classified and cannot, under any circumstances, be shared with anyone without my express permission.”
Brian stared at the screen. “What happens if I do?”
“Then you will discover the powers my lawyers have, and I assure you it will be most unpleasant.” His tone and facial features never changed while he spoke. “But, this does not obligate you to work with us, just keep our secrets. One of which will help you understand your power, or powers.”
Brian tried to read some of the words, but with one eye and the small print, the lines just blurred together. He gave a resigned sigh. “Where do I sign? Or how even?”
Dr. Patton pointed to a blank spot at the bottom of the page. “Place your finger here. Give it a second, and it will scan your fingerprint and consider it aut
horized.”
Brian did as instructed.
“Excellent.” Dr. Patton set the tablet aside and sat back down. “Now, to return to your question. What we know about the recent outbreak of powers is that it is transmitted via a virus. Once a host gets the virus, it lays dormant until the host activates it, usually with a deep desire, or life-threatening situation.” Dr. Patton paused, giving Brian an odd look. “Have you ever heard of Djinn?”
Brian shook his head.
“Well, they are a mythical creature, much of the same ilk as genies. Only, these are notorious for being difficult and vindictive. That saying “be careful what you wish for,” is said to originate from them. You see, when they granted wishes, they would find ways to twist it. Make it sour in your mouth, as it were. You wish for a fancy car, might find that the brake lines are non-existent. You wish for wealth, and they give you money from a country that doesn’t trade with yours.”
