DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 2, 2013 16:28:04 GMT -8
Chapter One - Fabiana Is The Victim of Attempted Scientist-cide!
In his I'm-joking-but-not-really way, Doctor Becker often said, “I don’t care if the cool air smells like dandelions. Keep the lab windows closed. If a bird flies inside and soils my work, I’ll lose my shit, too.”
But that morning, somebody had been using the beta mercaptoethanol indoors. It smelled like festering sewage, and if Fabiana’s weak stomach flipped, she’d do more damage than a confused sparrow.
What did Dr. Becker know, anyway? Not every place had to be sterile. In fact, this was the dirty, damp cage cleaning, dish washing, and tool fixing area. A bird might actually tidy up the room if it built a nest from the scraps of straw and bedding that had, over time, accumulated in corners and other hard-to-sweep areas. She unlocked the window behind the sink and opened it smoothly. Outside, a green, hilly field sprawled across the foreground, and thickly forested mountains supported the background. Yes, that view was almost worth the tribulations that marked employment at Becker’s isolated research facility. His group used to share the building with another team of scientists, people Fabi barely knew at the time but now missed dearly. Why did those guys leave, again? She had no clue. It must have been urgent, though, because they were gone within a week, abandoning Doctor Becker and his team of five lackeys in the white, boxy building.
A year had passed, but the university never filled the vacant rooms. Funding troubles, evidently. They were locked and empty, a horrendous waste of space. Sometimes, during late nights, she heard noises behind the sealed doors. Fabi wondered if the lab rats that escaped during the great breakout of 2031 were squatting in luxury.
Once she piled dirty dishes in the sink, Fabi put on loose plastic gloves and slipped the white communal lab coat over her blouse and slacks. It was stained and worn in places, mostly by the hydrochloric acid they used to clean glass. She also smelled strong cologne on its collar. Hinderman – the statistician and computer guy of Dr. Becker’s team – soaked in that stuff when he worked too hard for proper showers. Had he been in the lab earlier? Was he the person who used the nasty beta mercaptoethanol before she arrived? It was only nine AM, but Hinderman enjoyed his all-nighters. In fact, she was more likely to meet him between nine PM and five AM than the typical nine to five.
Fabi straightened the communal lab coat with a frustrated snort. It was loose and long on her spidery frame. Maybe she should invest in a personal one, like Richard. He owned a navy blue, high-collared, fitted, and flame resistant version; it even had his name, R.B. Wisconsin, embroidered on the pocket with neat silver thread. It probably cost a small fortune. He wasn’t a rich man, despite his name, but considering his personality, she could easily imagine Richard dropping coins into a jar until he saved enough to purchase a designer lab coat that nobody but the uncultured jerks at work (herself included) would appreciate.
She didn’t need to spend fifty bucks on a coat that belonged in the Scientific Armani Collection, though. There were probably cheap polyester ones on Ebay. Something less than twenty bucks wouldn’t protect her from nuclear fallout, granted. But at least it would keep her skin and clothes dry without smelling poignantly of Old Spice and the body odor of at least other people.
On second thought, she was just cleaning dishes with soap and water. No acid soaks or boiling trips in the autoclave were scheduled that morning. Plus, her blouse was pea green, a really disgusting color. Fabi wouldn’t mind losing it. Okay, that settled matters. She would work sans lab coat, with the window wide open, like a goddamn rebel, because sometimes rules could be bent based on the situation. She was an adult, thirty going on thirty-one, more than capable of deciding whether or not she should wear an old scrap of fabric and smell the dandelion breeze.
She leaned outside and breathed appreciatively. Wind ruffled the bushes and trees that that composed a small but thick copse between the forest proper and building.
As if a bird would fly inside the stinky old lab when it had nature to enjoy!
Satisfied, Fabi backed away from the window and turned, intending to hang up the communal lab coat.
That’s when she heard a gunshot. To her untrained ears, all gunshots sounded alike. They were loud and sharp. This one was louder and sharper than most, and she decided that meant it had been fired nearby. The other gunshots in her life belonged to hunters in distant forests; they were more echo than substance.
It was followed immediately by a metallic clink, the sound of shattering glass, and then she felt pain in her upper right arm. Because it resembled a third-degree burn – shallow, stinging pain - it did not occur to Fabiana that she’d been shot until a dark blotch started blossoming across her sleeve as the ugly green fabric and its silky fibers absorbed her blood.
Fabi truly wished that her mind operated with life-saving clarity during crises. A calm, reasonable survivalist would assess the situation and conclude that somebody outside – possibly hiding in the nearby copse – fired a bullet through the window, and after it grazed the metal centrifuge, the offensive projectile skimmed her arm. Then, the calm, reasonable survivalist would dive to the ground, roll behind a counter for cover, and call backup. Maybe she’d also rig the lab with Rube Goldberg traps, utilizing the array of chemical irritants and tools available. This would save her life if the shooter tried to climb through the open window to finish the job.
Unfortunately, Fabi stood in a state of numb shock for a couple seconds, with one hand pressed against her bleeding arm, before she screamed and ran for the exit. “Help me, please!” Was anybody else in the building to hear her shouts? Richard’s car had been parked in the dirt lot, next to Karishma’s scooter, but she did not see either of her colleagues that morning. It was a weekend, so Dr. Becker was definitely working from home. What about the young research assistant? Every semester, at least one undergraduate student worked with their group pro bono, for the experience and positive references. She didn’t remember the student’s name, since the semester had just started and they only met once, very briefly. But if that kid rescued her, Fabi would tattoo her savior’s name in her mind and possibly across her uninjured arm as a token of gratitude.
She scrambled into the hallway, a narrow white space with a freshly waxed tile floor. There were five doors along the wall. The first belonged to her shared office with Karishma, three were connected to various shared laboratories, and the final door led to a stairwell.
Should she risk running outside to escape? What if the gunman (or gunwoman, for all she knew) was waiting? She urged herself to think. A sealed room without windows might be safe. But where …?
Of course! Fabi could sprint downstairs, lock herself in the unisex bathroom, and call for help.
In fact, that was an excellent idea, the kind a calm, rationalist survivalist would entertain. She bolted to the stairs, descended them in bounds, and exited on the ground floor. The bathroom was directly to her right, beside an old silver drinking fountain with white mineral deposits crusted around its spout and drain. Fabi rattled the doorknob, smudging blood across the metal, and pushed. It was locked.
From within, Richard shouted, “Occupied!”
“I’ve been shot! Oh, man. I’ve been shot, Richard, help me!” She peeked at her injury. Her tacky blouse sleeve was pasted against her skin, sticky with blood. It seemed to be drying; at least the bullet didn’t cut a major artery.
“Just let me wash up.”
“I’ve been shot with a gun!”
She heard the water abruptly shut off, and then he opened the door. Richard wore a turtleneck and gray jeans; his special lab coat was folded neatly and draped over one arm. The astute man said, “You’re bleeding.” His dark eyes, normally wide with either anxious or enthusiastic intensity (or some combination of both) were now wide with surprise. Lord knows how she could tell the expressions apart. Perhaps they’d been spending too much time together.
Before she could explain, for the third time, that she was bleeding because somebody shot her in the arm, Richard pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. He fished a phone from his jeans. Considering how tight they were, Fabi was genuinely surprised that anything wider than a dollar bill fit in his pocket, but she was grateful for small miracles, because she forgot her phone upstairs.
“Tell me what happened,” Richard said. “Is it those protesters?” Two groups had been hounding Dr. Becker lately, the animal rights folks and members of Greenwood Church, but neither seemed extreme enough to use deadly force.
“I don’t know. I was cleaning the equipment from last week’s run, and somebody got me through the window.” She pulled up her sleeve and flinched. The blood blotch painted her skin between elbow and shoulder, so it was difficult to see the actual damage. But it sure looked nasty.
“That isn’t so bad,” Richard said. “It’s not even bleeding anymore. Well, good. Good.” Suddenly, his eyes widened in their unique and startling manner, showing Fabi the whites above and below his brown irises, and he lowered the phone.
“Aren’t you going to call somebody?” she asked.
“It was probably a hunter. He probably followed deer to that bunch of trees on the hill outside, missed, and nicked you. It’s a reasonable explanation, right?”
“No. I didn’t see deer. We’re still calling the police. Right?”
“You aren’t making this easier for me.” He thrust the phone at Fabi. “I have to find Karishma and Rin. They’re working today.”
“Karishma and who?” “Rin. Rin. He’s the intern! If you went to lab meetings, you’d know that.” He put a hand over his face and rubbed it vigorously. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Just lock the door once I’m gone. When you hear me knock four times, unlock. Okay?”
“Yes. Be careful.”
“Of course.” Richard opened the door a crack, barely wide enough for his thin self to slip back into the hall, and then he closed it gingerly. Fabi did not hear footfalls beyond; he must have retreated quietly. She imagined him sneaking through the building with his neatly folded lab coat and hoped that he escaped notice, because poor Richard didn’t stand a chance against an armed assassin. None of them did, honestly, unless Rin the Intern was a calm, rational survivalist who knew how to communicate with an armed attacker, like the guys who negotiated with gunmen during hostage situations. Her arm twanged as huddled against the wall between the sink and porcelain toilet. Who would shoot her? She was harmless, really. Could it really be the protesters? The animal rights folks were mainly young adults from the university. Their most controversial stunt was a nude sit-in at the school’s dining hall to protest unsustainably harvested fish sticks. Surely, none of those pacifists would violently attack her – she didn’t even use animals for her work! Fabi loved animals! Dr. Becker was a better target. He achieved his distinguished place in science through the sacrifices of countless transgenic zebra fish.
The Greenwood Church seemed more likely. They published a creepy monthly newsletter that accused the research facility of acts that defiled nature, whatever that meant.
She keyed the number ‘911’ into Richard's phone. It was the first time Fabi ever needed emergency services, though she once accidentally called them instead of the pizza place. During the day of her mistake, she’d had a good trip to the laundry (all her socks found their pairs, zero strangers tried to hit her up for quarters, and she even summoned the motivation to stack her pants and underwear in the dresser, where they belonged; normally, her freshly washed and dried clothes stayed in the laundry basket for a couple weeks, as she wore them piece by piece until nothing clean remained). If that didn’t call for pizza, nothing did. Too bad the 9-1-1 man had been so grumpy. It killed her vibe and totally ruined the celebration.
Somehow, confined to the dim unisex bathroom that amplified noises in the nerve-wrecking manner of most showers, she explained the situation to an emergency operator. The woman urged her to stay on the line and wait for responders; at that point, Fabi heard four clear knocks. Four. Coast was clear. Thank you, whatever patron god watched over inept scientists.
When she unlocked the door, Richard pushed Karishma and a youth who must have been Rin the Intern inside. They knocked Fabi back, and she slipped on a wet tile near the sink. In the split second before her fall, a statistic flashed through Fabi’s mind: most fatal domestic accidents happened in the bathroom! Work was essentially home to her. Oh, no, no. She didn’t want to die like this!
A quick hand steadied her. Bless you, Karishma. Unfortunately, she’d grabbed Fabi by the upper arm. It took a Herculean amount of self-control to refrain from screaming with pain. That might alert the gunner that four targets were huddled in a ten-by-ten, windowless room like fish in a barrel.
Karishma, the hero of the minute, barely broke five feet in shoes and had soft, plump hands with perfect rounded nails. Quite lovely. Fabi just wished that they weren’t squeezing blood from her injury at the moment.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to sit down. Cops are coming.” She passed the phone to Richard.
“Why are we here in the bathroom together?” Karishma asked, and then she noticed that her right hand was moist with something more sinister than water. The shocked expression on her face – gaping mouth, bulging eyes magnified by old-fashioned copper-framed glasses - might have been funny in another situation. Perhaps on April first, after a harmless prank.
“It’s my blood,” Fabi explained. Perched on the closed toilet, she held a wad of paper towels against the injury. “Richard didn’t explain?”
Rin the Intern, who had a hairstyle that was best described as “floppy Mohawk” and wore silver studs in his nose, lower lip, ears, eyebrow, and probably his tongue, too, since it seemed a shame to neglect that part of face after going so far, knelt near Fabi. He touched her shoulder in a comforting way. The boy barely looked older than eighteen, though he was probably at least a university sophomore, since Dr. Becker refused to hire freshmen. Too many aspiring geneticists found their calling in another discipline after failing introductory biology, he always decried.
It was Fabiana’s opinion that most found their calling elsewhere after meeting the good doctor.
“Richard told us to be quiet and follow,” Karishma whispered.
“Well, I was shot.” The bespectacled woman clutched her chest and swayed dizzily. For an alarming moment, Fabi worried that the shocking news had triggered a heart attack in her coworker. At least an ambulance was on the way. Then, Karishma took a deep breath and regained her balance. “Please, somebody stop the bleeding,” she said.
With the speed of a striking adder, Rin removed his black and red checkered belt, looped it around Fabi’s upper arm, and tightened the insidious thing. “Tourniquet,” he said. “Prevents exsanguination.”
“I don’t need a tourniquet. This will ruin your belt.”
He shrugged. “It’s just blood.” A moment of tense silence passed. Then, Rin the Intern asked, “Hm. You know, that injury looks sorta funny for a gunshot wound. Did you see who did it?”
Fabi shook her head. “No. My back was turned. Why?”
He eyed the others. “What if somebody here shot you?”
“Why would anybody do that?” Richard said. “Honestly. You aren’t helping.”
“I dunno, Mister Wisconsin. Why does anybody do anything?”
Though Karishma rolled her eyes and Richard sneered at the thought, Fabi noticed that each retreated to opposite corners of the room.
How much did she actually know about those two? She and Karishma shared an office, and Richard sometimes passed around photos of his twin toddlers, each pale with dark hair and big foreheads like their father. But beyond office pleasantries, they were strangers.
Huh. Maybe she should attend more lab meetings.
Nevermind! The take-away message was: Rin had a point. Until the man or woman who shot her was arrested and imprisoned for hopefully ninety years, no chance of parole, Fabi could not drop her guard.
So what would the calm, rational survivalist do in her place, trapped in a cramped room, surrounded by potential murderers?
Discreetly, she put her hand on the wood and rubber plunger hidden behind the toilet. It was no match for a gun, but survivors had to improvise. The first person who made a shifty move would get a face full of germs.
Then, with feigned trust, she waited.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
|
Post by DKender on Nov 4, 2013 15:11:54 GMT -8
Chapter One, ContinuedFour days after Fabi’s brush with death, Dr. Becker scheduled an emergency lab meeting. In the email invitation, he wrote: We will convene at eleven – that’s eleven in the morning, Hinderman. Attendance is not optional. No-shows may consider working elsewhere. I recommend Dr. Fuller’s group in the department of environmental sciences. He’s been experimenting with nap breaks lately. You probably prefer that style of lab management. Cheers!
At eleven sharp, five of the six seats around the first floor meeting table were occupied. The empty seat belonged to Dr. Becker. Nobody was especially surprised. “He just texted me,” Richard said. “Doctor Becker will be fifteen minutes late.” Fabi wore a bandage around her arm. The laceration had needed three stitches, and it still smarted when she moved. “So, you got shot,” Hinderman said. Considering his gravely, unusually deep voice, Fabi always thought he missed his calling as a cartoon villain voice actor. “Actually, I … it didn’t …” “What?” Smiling, she shrugged. How could Fabi explain that the injury was not actually caused by a bullet? His next question would be: so, what happened? She had no answer. It was another damn mystery. And it made zero sense, considering that police indeed found a bullet in the laboratory. Perhaps this was a good time to change the subject and learn more about her colleagues. She asked Richard, “How is your wife?” “My what?” “Your wife?” He did have a wife, right? “I’ve never been married.” “But the twins are yours?” “Yes.” Richard was wide-eyed again. From his chair in the corner, Hinderman chuckled. “Cute,” she said. “They’re really cute. Cute kids.” What a disaster. How did everything go so wrong? That question was supposed to be a slam dunk. Fabi always considered Richard to be a nuclear family man with two children and one lovely, completely typical wife he often mentioned in passing. Her name was Laura, Laura the dentist, and her portrait was framed next to his diploma. She had long blonde hair with layers and subtle highlights. It was a common style, evident of good taste and a mature, professional disposition. “So, Rin thinks that somebody from this lab caused Saturday’s incident,” Hinderman said, mercifully changing the subject. “Sorry, man. I just can’t believe it.” “And why not?” Rin asked. He was busy playing a game on his tablet computer. “Because Fabi is still alive. You think a bunch of great minds like ours would mess up? She isn’t James Bond. With Average Joe or Josephine as your target, murder actually isn’t hard. Escaping conviction might be tricky. But the murder? Easy.” “Hey!” Fabi said. She was tempted to throw her pencil at him in retaliation, but that would just encourage his childish behavior. “So not funny,” Karishma muttered. “We just experienced a trauma.” “Hinderman does have a point, though,” Richard said. “It’s unreasonable to suspect anybody here was involved in Fabiana’s accident. I’ve never touched a gun before. They’re too risky.” “How would you kill someone, then?” Hinderman wondered. “No. Not appropriate.” Richard shook his head. “Definitely not appropriate.” “I’ll tell you mine.” With a self-satisfied expression, Hinderman leaned back and propped his feet on the tabletop. “Neurotoxins. If you know what to look for, they’re easy to find. I was buying supplies for my aquarium a few weeks ago, and the pet shop had a tank filled with rocks. They looked like foam meteors, the kind from B movie science fiction, so I bought some for my starship themed tank. Days later, toxic zoanthids spread over the rocks. They were stowaways from the wild. It’s pretty common, actually. Anyway. Palytoxins. Potent. I’d extract enough to kill somebody and just do it.” “Mr. Hinderman,” Rin said, “do you still have those rocks?” “Duh. You want to see? I’ll bring one in tomorrow. They’re safe unless you boil or abuse them. Oh, loosen up, Richard. It’s educational.” “You’re being mean now,” Karishma said. She glanced at Fabi, no doubt seeking affirmation. However, Fabi was feverishly scribbling notes into her composition notebook. She welcomed the conversation. It was very insightful. “Don’t act like you haven’t planned the perfect murder at least once, Karishma,” Hinderman said. “Everyone does. What if Hitler joined our lab? The real Hitler, transported to this time and place by a freak wormhole. Come on. Murdering Hitler is the opposite of a bad thing.” The young woman clasped her hands across her chest academically. “I’d arrest him. Citizen’s arrest. Then, he can suffer in prison forever.” “But in this hypothetical situation, nobody believes that he’s really Hitler! Your citizen arrest fails, and he continues working without consequences!” She clasped and unclasped her hands several times, thinking. “Well, okay. Maybe, I would wait until Hitler is alone in the laboratory. Soak a rag in the chloroform we keep. Ask him to help me reach a jar on the top shelf. While he is distracted, knock him out. Smother him to death. Burn off his fingerprints with acid. Put him on a tarp. Remove his teeth with pliers. Stow him in a barrel …” She sighed. “I don’t know how I’d dispose the barrel or his personal vehicle, though. I just can’t think that way. It’s disturbing. Who would … ” She suddenly stared at Rin intensely. “Speaking of!” “Yeah?” the intern asked. “I need to chat with you,” she said. “We have some time. Will you join me in the hall?” Rin nodded, quietly paused his game, and followed Karishma outside the room. Odd. Rin was not working on Karishma’s project. What secrets could they possibly share? Fabi stood quietly, tiptoed across the meeting room, and put her ear against the wooden door. She could hear their voices, but just barely, and with enough concentration, the muffled sounds became words. Richard just shook his head with theatrical exasperation and busied himself reading a paper about gene silencing in turtles. On the other hand, Hinderman joined her. He smiled impishly. During the seconds that followed, they heard the following conversation: “… mutilated. I’ve found three in the forest this week. Somebody is doing this.” “Are you sure, Miss Suvakumar? Sometimes, predatory birds leave a mess.” “I am. Look.” There was a pause. Finally, in a tone that was uncharacteristically meek for Rin, he continued, “Why are you showing me this?” “You can help me. Right? You and your friends? I saw your picture in the newspaper…” Another pause. Then, the door opened. Hinderman and Fabi found themselves eye-to-eye with the intern’s cold stare. He wore white contacts, the costume variety that was normally popular during Halloween. Fabi steeled herself; she refused to speak first or break eye contact during this battle of nerves. As the intern’s superior, any sign of weakness on her part would compromise the group’s delicate hierarchy. It was difficult to persevere, however. With his irises colored white, Rin’s eyes were a pair of intense black dots, two emotionless holes in his face. Fabi’s hands became clammy. “Hey. We were eavesdropping,” Hinderman explained. “What’s this about a newspaper? Are you famous?” Rin tugged lightly on the silver, bar-shaped earring hanging from his ear lobe. “Miss Suvakumar. I’ll help, if you keep my secrets. Okay?” “Sure,” Karishma agreed. Fabi studied the pair of conspirators as they returned to their seats. What newspaper-worthy thing did that young man accomplish? Maybe he was in the petty crime pages. Rin probably belonged to a gang of youths who wore alternative clothing and idolized people like Banksy. A history of juvenile delinquency would help explain some things. Namely: Rin suspected that her injury was not a gunshot wound before the doctors confirmed that diagnosis. He must be intimately familiar with guns and the damage they caused. The sound of twittering songbirds interrupted her thoughts. It was Richard’s phone, and Fabi doubted that anybody in the room could not guess the caller. Richard puts his article on the table, moving sluggishly, as if the interruption was a great burden. The birds continued singing, until it seemed like voice mail would kick in. But he must’ve timed things perfectly, because Richard answered the phone before the last ring. “Hello,” he said. “Everyone is here. Absolutely, absolutely. No, we overreacted. Hunters, they believe. It’s ongoing. I don’t know. Okay, absolutely. I’ll tell her. Sorry about your car. Absolutely.” He lowered the phone and shook his head. “Dr. Becker will not be joining us today. It’s his car. Everyone, get to work. Oh, Fabiana. He’s relieved that you recovered quickly and are able to return to work today. However, the next time you wash dishes, keep the window closed. For your safety, obviously. His words, not mine. But it is good practice.” “Did he really say that? Really?” she asked. Fabi suspected that, as the unofficial Metatron to their group’s principle investigator, Richard often put words in His mouth. Honestly, how would Dr. Becker know that she opened the window? It was such an inconsequential detail. Did one of her colleagues tattle? They must have! The backstabber took advantage of her absence. She’d used a few days of personal leave to recover; though her arm would heal without a scar, Fabi’s nerves were wrecked. And she doubted that the police would be helpful. In fact, their response disappointed her. The first responders had been lovely. They arrived in full force and evacuated the unisex bathroom. Unfortunately, when they failed to identify an armed assailant terrorizing the facility, and when Fabi’s injury was classified as “definitely not caused by a bullet,” the fervor for justice died down. She suspected that they, like Richard, would blame a drunk hunter for the accident. At least the university was erecting a high fence around the facility and posting more signs in the nearby forest to discourage trespassers. Nevertheless, she felt unsafe. There had been no deer outside. And she did not see any hunters near the building, although the bushes outside did rustle. At the time, she blamed the wind, but now Fabiana was certain that somebody with a rifle had been hiding there. He or she was waiting for her to turn around. Attempted murder, plain and simple. Richard had been speaking, but Fabi did not pay attention until he said, “Occam’s razor.” “Occam’s razor?” she repeated. Those were his favorite two words. But he normally used them during scientific discussions. Occam’s razor: lex parsimoniae: in the absence of evidence, simpler explanations were the most appealing. “Yes,” he said. “I think we should take comfort in Occam’s razor right now. Accidents happen. It’s that simple.” “I have another comforting cliché for you,” Hinderman said. “It’s Hanlon’s razor. Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity. Don’t worry, guys. We’re fine. Now, I better pull a Dr. Fuller and take a nap. Call me if Becker’s car starts working again.” He patted his braided gray beard and stood . Karishma muttered something about Godwin’s law as Hinderman passed her, and this triggered another chuckle fit. As a senior scientist, Hinderman was the only employee who had a private office. The last time Fabi visited, she almost tripped on two separate wires that were stretched between the door and his desk. The desk itself, a black mahogany piece from the seventies, was burdened with papers, two monitors, and model space ships. Hinderman kept the ships in glass jars, like a science fiction version of ships in a bottle; they were the only objects in his office that did not collect dust. He purchased the models from hobby stores and private dealers, assembled them by hand, and painted each with tiny brushes. Considering the excruciating detail poured into his ships, Hinderman’s vision and hand-eye coordination must be phenomenal. Fabi wondered if she could therefore exclude him from the suspect list. The bullet missed her by a mile. Anyway, like he said, it was more convenient to use his creepy toxic aquarium rocks during attempted murder. She doubted that Hinderman had been involved. But perhaps murder was never the plan. Maybe the perpetrator just wanted to scare her. If fear had been the motivation, shenanigans from the Greenwood Church suddenly seemed more likely. They made a living by scaring people. With a polite nod to Richard, Rin the Intern, and Karishma, Fabi moved to the dish washing laboratory. Its window had been sealed, locked, and covered with blinds, so she felt moderately safe. There, Fabi found the latest Greenwood alarmist flyer pinned to a bulletin board. It was speckled by holes; when they needed to blow off steam, Hinderman and Karishma played darts. She studied the makeshift dartboard, a bright green piece of paper, folded into thirds, with Comic Sans text blocks printed continuously from the front to back. Defiling nature, mutants, poison DNA, monsters of the apocalypse: all very interesting reading material. However, what she needed was tucked in a corner: the Greenwood Church address. They met every Friday night. Perfect. Normally, her Friday nights consisted of television and wine from the bottle. But this week, she’d save the date for espionage.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 6, 2013 18:48:08 GMT -8
Chapter Two - Karishma Makes A Human Friend
Late Friday night, Karishma parked her puttering scooter outside Becker’s research facility. The building was dark, except for the newly-installed floodlights that illuminated its entrance. The promised fence had not been constructed yet, and she doubted that the University would start the project, much less finish it, that semester. Bureaucratic things move at a glacial pace. In fact, Dr. Becker had to purchase the floodlights himself, while Richard and Hinderman hooked them up.
She keyed the six-digit security code into the front door, waited for a green light to flash over its knob, and then stepped inside. The hallway lights flicked on automatically …
A body was huddled against the wall, motionless. Karishma felt dizzy with fear, and then the body stirred and flipped over. It was Rin. He’d been napping, his head cushioned by a tattered black jacket that was rolled up to simulate a pillow.
“How long have you been here?” Karishma asked. “The lights were off.”
Rin yawned and she sympathetically followed suit. “Never left work,” he explained. “You wanted to meet ‘round eight, and I didn’t feel like jogging home and back again. It’s two miles.”
“That’s a long walk. Wow. You don’t live on campus?”
“No. Way too expensive. I still mooch off Mom and Dad.”
She smiled wistfully. “That’s not a bad thing. I miss my parents every day. Very much. Yes, they were bothersome when I was your age, but that passes.”
“My age? I’m twenty-one,” he said. “You’re, like, three years older than me.”
“A lot happens in three years!” She tried to hide her surprise. Rin had an extremely youthful face. Honestly, she envied him. With her heavy frame and matronly ankle-length skirts, mostly hand-me-downs from older sisters, Karishma made the transition from “Miss” to “Ma’am” before she graduated high school.
“So, we gonna do this?” Rin rubbed his hands together.
“In a moment. At this time, Penny expects my visit. She loves bedtime stories.”
“Oh, yeah. The rat. Don’t you feel guilty?”
Of course, she expected the confrontation eventually. Rin was involved with that student version of PETA. She saw his photograph in the newspaper after the “naked truth” dining hall stunt. Obviously, his head and hands were the only things visible under the huge dean-approved censor. She wondered how they avoided expulsion for that incident.
“I’ve known Penny my entire life,” Karishma explained. “We are sisters.”
“Great, but you still torture her.”
“No! You’re just wrong! Do you even understand my work? Obviously not. See for yourself.”
She took Rin to the live animal lab, unofficially her exclusive workplace and Penny’s mansion. Filing cabinets in one corner were filled with Karishma’s spiral journals and composition notebooks. They contained the minutiae of Penny’s life and times, her personality quirks, her learning trends, her daily disposition report, and so on and so forth. And the rat herself, a wiry, white girl with bright eyes, a stumpy tail, and the cutest pink nose Karishma had ever seen, dominated the laboratory proper. She lived in a series of interconnected cages.
“See? See here? She has toys! Mirrors! I am at her side eight hours a day to provide companionship. That micro fridge is filled with fresh fruits and vegetables. She doesn’t eat donut holes – I feed her the best rat nibbles.”
“This life isn’t natural,” Rin said. He knelt near the main cage with another weary yawn; Penny stood on her hind legs and balanced against the bars. She watched the newcomer and pondered whatever rodents ponder when they encounter a stranger. Her whiskers twitched as she sniffed the air.
“Everything is natural,” Karishma countered. “Anyway, Penny is not like other rats.” She took a picture book from the counter – the image of a mouse with a chocolate chip cookie beamed from its front cover.
“She isn’t?”
“No. She’s immortal.”
Rin laughed. “Like a lobster? Hah!”
“I’m serious! Penny came from my parents’ stock. They also worked with rats. She outlived her children, her grandchildren, and her great-great grandchildren by the time I was born.
“So she’s what? Thirty-five?”
“Forty-one. It’s astounding. No cancer! No aging! I’ve been studying her mental fitness lately. The psychology of long life will be crucial when humans learn how to fend off death, too.”
“Uh huh. Assuming I believe that she’s more than five times older than, like, the oldest rat ever … Psychologically, how is she?” He passed a carrot slice to Penny, who sniffed the offering. She took a bite, wiped her nose with a small pink paw, and then scurried onto her running wheel to sprint.
“Pretty good. Hm. She forgets old tricks sometimes. But Penny is a happy girl, and she still performs fantastically during aptitude tests.”
“It probably helps that rats can’t contemplate the existential consequences of long life in a world of mortals.”
As Karishma read about cookies, mice, and milk to her rat sister, Rin skimmed the observation books. They spanned seventeen years. “Seventeen freaking years,” he said. “Holy shit.” The earliest entry, scrawled across a wide-lined Lisa Frank journal page in green gel ink, read:
Penny slept under bedding again. Do rats burrow?
“I’m finished,” Karishma eventually said. “Oh, Penny! Sweet dreams! Rin, I’ve been worried about her safety here, especially after dark, since the gun incident.”
“Yeah. That was weird. Uh, I like hanging out, but it’s Friday night, and I have plans in twenty minutes. Wanna get started?”
Karishma nodded, and together they climbed to the third floor. She unlocked the special stairwell that provided roof access. It was a cloudy night, pitch black. Sometimes, a smattering of Milky Way was visible from the rooftop. Those were her favorite nights.
Rin sat cross-related near the roof’s edge. He fished a flashlight from his white backpack and tossed it from hand to hand.
“I started seeing them a few months ago,” Karishma said. “There is a trail that connects us to the village two miles away. It goes straight through the woods. That’s where I find them. Mice and squirrels. Sometimes birds. It’s horrible. I’ve never been so angry. This cannot be tolerated. But what am I? Nobody special. I don’t handle confrontations well at all.”
“Where is the closest place you’ve found their bodies?” he asked. “Show me.”
Karishma took a strong laser pointer from her pocket and used its beam of light to point to the cluster of trees and bushes between the facility and the forest. “They are mostly on the trail,” she explained. “But one week ago, I found one there. The killer came very close. Monster.”
“Bold,” Rin said. He stalked around the roof, his brow creased by a single thoughtful wrinkle. Every step he took rang like heavy bells as the chains on his loose black pants clinked against each other. Finally, he spoke. “Let’s convince Dr. Becker that we need a game camera installed on the grounds. Maybe several. They can be mounted to trees, day and night vision available, solar or battery powered. It’s very sneaky. The good ones cost at least two hundred bucks, but I’ve seen them for cheaper. We definitely want a good one, though. Crap game cameras don’t always trigger when something walks past.”
“That’s a fantastic idea. But if we photograph this person, what is the next step?”
“I dunno.” He punched the air. “We’ll think of something. Hey, is Penny the only rat in your lab?”
“Yes,” Karishma said. “We had more once, but they escaped, and Dr. Becker decided that animals are too much hassle. With one exception, obviously.”
“I’m barking up the wrong tree.”
“What was that?”
Suddenly, her phone beeped. Karishma stared at its bright blue screen with evident disbelief before answering the call. “Hello. Why did you go there? Um, okay. See you soon.”
She snapped the phone shut and shook her head. “Fabi and Richard need a ride from the abandoned gas station near the river. I’m obviously their only friend without plans tonight.”
“I think you’re just their only friend. Too bad. I was gonna invite you and Penny to my thing.” There was a low rumble, and then an old, black convertible parked nearby. It was well-lit by the floodlights, but Karishma could not see the driver’s face from her perch because he or she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. “Perfect timing. That’s my ride,” Rin said.
As he left, Karishma stared at the dark field, clasping and unclasping her hands, a nervous gesture she developed during primary school. How the heck would she fit two people on her scooter?
Her phone beeped again. It was a text from Richard. Hurry. They found us.
***
The abandoned gas station was skeletal, stripped of anything salvageable, its windows broken and crushed into glittery dust by the people who reveled now and again in the hollow building. Grass already split the concrete lot in so many places, it resembled an extremely bland jigsaw puzzle. Though it was situated near a well-traveled road between one highway and another, the encroaching forest produced an isolated, spooky atmosphere.
Karishma wondered if Fabi and Richard were pranking her. It would not be without precedent. A few weeks prior, Fabi bought some plastic pink baby rats from the village toy store and tucked them in Penny’s cage. Karishma had been so excited when she saw the lot huddled in a nest of bedding. Immaculate conception! Yet another peculiarity of her miracle rat.
Her colleagues believed that she was delusional: that was obvious. At least Dr. Becker had faith in Karishma’s work. As an undergraduate student in Washington University, she earned fairly mediocre grades and received positive but unremarkable references from her professors. Therefore, she did not expect the distinguished Dr. Becker, Genius Grant recipient and former champion of designer pet genetics, to call her on graduation day with a job offer.
Fortunately, Karishma enjoyed working in his laboratory. The generous man gave her complete professional freedom. He never pressured Karishma to publish paper after paper describing the unique cocktail of genetic features that made Penny special. If she wanted to observe her rat all day, every day, that was dandy. He clearly understood that the behavioral and psychological aspects of longevity were important. When human life was extended beyond one hundred and fifty years – and she had no doubt that it would be, eventually – the difference between a happy, productive twilight and a miserable one depended on the long-lived person’s mental state. Oh, yes, her work was vital.
Did Rin have a point, though? Was the rat brain just too different from the human brain?
She could not doubt herself. Why would Dr. Becker support her work if it had serious flaws? He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t! She’d ignore negativity and persevere!
The gas station was twelve minutes from the research facility. Karishma hoped that Fabi and Richard survived. Why had they been pestering the Greenwood church, anyway? Those doomsayers were notoriously obnoxious people. At least their glory days were over. According to the local grapevine, Greenwood lost half its members when the millennium failed to herald a monstrous apocalypse torn from the nightmares of Mr. H. P. Lovecraft. Pity, that.
She almost drove by the spooky gas station because, that night, it was anything but abandoned. The jigsaw puzzle parking lot was crammed with cars, trucks, and motorcycles. On the wide strip of grass between the road and the split cement, about fifteen men and women formed a noisy ring around somebody who was gesturing vehemently at the crowd and speaking with the passionate conviction of a preacher on his pulpit. Karishma pulled over and parked her scooter. Goodness. The preacher was Richard.
Suddenly, Fabi jumped from behind a column of rusty metal. Her cheeks were ruddy red, and she breathed like somebody who’d recently sprinted a quarter mile. Or, in Karishma’s case, much less than that.
“Thank you!” Fabi approached with a shudder. “What an ordeal. Awful. Just awful."
“What is Richard doing?” Karishma asked. “Are those people from Greenwood?”
“Take me away from this place, and I’ll explain everything.”
“What about …” Fabi pointed to one of the spectators, a woman with layered, tastefully highlighted blonde hair. She wore a maroon pantsuit. It was quite nice – perfect fit, no wrinkles, professional. “He already has a ride.”
“If Laura is here, why did you call me? I’m glad to help, but they probably drive something larger than a scooter.”
“Let’s go!” Fabiana climbed onto the back of the notoriously small scooter. “Please. I’ll explain everything when we’re outta sight from the people who think I’m biblical Lilith.”
“Seriously? Well, all right.” As she squeezed onto the driver’s seat, Karishma felt Fabi’s sharp ribs against her back. They were uncomfortably close, in her opinion. Too close for coworkers. She started the vehicle and pulled onto the empty street.
“I parked my car at the strip mall near the Greenwood barn,” Fabi explained. “There’s an ice cream place that’s open until midnight, if you want a snack. Um, hey, can we go faster?”
“Not unless you wear a helmet.”
“I don’t have a helmet.”
“Uh huh.”
Leisurely, they puttered to the strip mall, and Karishma wondered why Fabi smelled like Myrrh. She fully expected to hear the explanation over a bowl of pistachio ice cream.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 10, 2013 18:27:02 GMT -8
Chapter Three – Hinderman Does Something Cool In The Forest, But Nobody Is Around To See It
Shortly after Rin and Karishma left the facility Friday night, Hinderman began his shift. On the way into the building, he squinted at the intense floodlights and decided that they were overkill. Wasn’t Fabi the victim of attempted murder some time during the morning? At least they had nothing to fear from vampires anymore. He retreated to his office, which was lit by a single desk lamp with a glass green shade. That and his thirty inch monitors provided enough illumination to see his hand in front of his face and the keys of his keyboard, which was all Hinderman actually needed. He was grateful for shadows. They hid the clutter of details that infested the world.
A thumb drive had been placed in his otherwise bare “to do” box; the words “PROPERTY OF BECKER” were written neatly on its face with a fine-tipped sharpie marker. Wonderful. He’d have some work to finish that night. Completing statistical analyses for the doctor was a unique challenge. Hinderman preferred to know the experimental design before he started working on a project. It was the only way he could be confident in the glorious stats. However, Dr. Becker’s personal experiments were shrouded in mystery.
On one level, he enjoyed the laboratory’s quirks. Hinderman could pretend that he was part of something exciting, like a character living in the Twilight Zone universe. Maybe, Hinderman was an unwitting minion, one of several, working for an evil genius who desired total world domination. Maybe, alien corpses from Roswell had been shipped to the northwest, their organs now subjected to an array of tests. Heck, why not combine the themes? Tonight, Hinderman was the statistician of evil Dr. Becker, who was fusing alien DNA with rat DNA to produce the ultimate pest!
Yeah, that would be fun. He leaned back and contemplated an inch-wide replica of the flying saucer from in Plan 9 From Outer Space. Though simple, it was his favorite. He bought it years ago in New York City, of all places, from a random vendor with old nostalgic crap spread over his booth on the sidewalk. The saucer lived in a glass dome, where it hung by a silver thread. Hinderman tapped the glass, and the silver model swung back and forth. His father once promised that everything would fly before the year twenty ten. People would ride hoverboards. They’d put antigravity booties on their dogs. Commuters could drive their cars one mile above the ground. He’d advised Hinderman to invest in airspace. Quite the dreamer, that man. It was a shame that his investments never panned out.
Hinderman loaded the spreadsheets that were saved on the red flash drive. He gave the data a thoughtful glance and tried to work some magic. It was like shooting a target blindfolded sometimes. There were replicates, treatments, and numbers. Hundreds of numbers. But what did they mean?
His boss would say, “Math is math. It’s black and white.” But it was not actually that simple.
Today, the numbers were IQ points. Sure, why not? One hundred and forty, one hundred and fifty-eight. Those were some smart alien hybrid rats. Oh, drat. Two hundred and eleven. So much for his IQ theory. Hours passed. As he worked, Hinderman ate teriyaki flavored crispy seaweed from a large bag and listened to generic dubstep.
A door slammed somewhere in the building. The jarring sound drew Hinderman from his reverie of salt, beats, and numbers. Sometimes, Karishma visited her rat at strange hours, but she was an extremely courteous woman who always greeted him before proceeding with work.
Maybe somebody else had been working late. That seemed unlikely, though. Plus, the slam definitely came from the third floor, and the only unlocked and occupied room on the third floor was his office. Had somebody been meddling with the abandoned laboratories? He stared at his door, a solid wooden obstruction, and dared its knob to rattle. Go ahead. Liven things up. Hinderman owned a broadsword, and he was not afraid to swing it with unskilled enthusiasm. He’d probably throw out his back out and succumb to the intruder, but at least the failure would make an interesting entry in the obituary pages.
Nothing. Now, he faced a dilemma. On one hand, Hinderman could ignore the sound, return to his numbers, and hope that all was well. If he emerged from his cave-like office in the morning to find the walls defiled by graffiti, so be it. Not his problem. On another hand, he could bite the bullet (hopefully not literally) and check the building for trespassers. That’s what a brave man would do. Brave but risky.
There was, of course, a third hand. Call backup. After all, he shouldn’t bring a broadsword to a gun fight. But the police never arrived in a timely manner, and they weren’t worth the hassle nine times outta ten. Plus, he didn’t want the lab to gain a reputation for crying wolf. Hinderman rather liked their current reputation: people playing God, heroes to some, apocalyptic harbingers to others. Nerds to most. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and continued manipulating numbers. No use acting brave without a damn good reason.
Then, Hinderman found his reason.
If something happened to Penny, Karishma would be heartbroken. She already loathed parting with the animal at night. It was a definite case of overattachment. She’d probably set up a futon beside the cages if Dr. Becker hadn’t forbidden sleepovers without a really persuasive justification. And protecting the rat from bad dreams was apparently not remotely persuasive.
Penny’s laboratory was locked tight, its windows protected by a thick metal mesh, but if somebody broke into the third floor labs, they were either talented locksmiths or had copies of the facility’s keys. Maybe, he’d just pop downstairs and check on the poor animal. Penny might appreciate the visit, and he needed to stretch his legs, anyway. Hinderman brushed teriyaki seaweed crumbs from his button-up white shirt. Then, he went to the storage cabinet along the back wall and drew his broadsword from its leather scabbard. He slipped his fingers into the basket hilt, an elaborate, lace-like metal structure padded by thick red fabric to protect his hand. The double edges were sharp and bright, unsurprising considering that it was a battle-ready ornament. He didn’t even cut melons with the poor thing. Unlike some people, Hinderman was not a my-collection-is-better-than-yours weapons enthusiast. But even he could not pass up a shiny broadsword at the country flea sale. After the purchase, he mounted it over his brick fireplace. But then his mate Willard saw the display, jumped to conclusions, and bought Hinderman an ornate Spanish rapier. He only had one mantle, so the broadsword found a new home in his attic. That is, until some trigger-happy jerk decided to fire at their building.
Though he loathed admitting it, the accident worried Hinderman. He felt safer with five pounds of sharp metal in his office. During the last lab meeting, he’d been sorely tempted to mention the sword during their conversation about murder. However, common sense urged that it was better kept secret. Some of his coworkers overreacted, and the others gossiped. At least one did both, often simultaneously. The fluorescent lights in the third-floor hallway flickered and buzzed. His office was on the far side of the floor; between it and the stairwell were six doors, three on each side of the sputtering corridor. Any one of them could pop open as he passed and unleash the horrible unknown!
He moved quietly, sword held at the ready. There was no evidence of malicious activity. The cracks around the doors were dark, and as he tested them one by one, Hinderman confirmed that each was indeed still locked.
The stairwell was dim and tightly spiraled, an ideal place for ambushes. He considered taking the elevator, but it whirred and dinged. That would steal the element of surprise, which was the best thing Hinderman had going for him.
The descent passed without incident, but Hinderman soon realized that it was merely a calm before the storm. The second floor hallway was already lit by its long fluorescent bulbs as he exited the stairwell. They were motion-sensitive; somebody had passed through recently. He’d observed the same thing upstairs, Hinderman realized with a chill. He ran to Penny’s laboratory, his sandals slapping against his bare heels (because he did not combine socks with flip flops anymore – Hinderman didn’t normally give a hoot about fashion, but the deluge of strangers who tried to sneakily photograph his feet during sock and sandal days was extremely annoying).
He propped the sword against the wall and unlocked the laboratory. “Anybody in there?” Hinderman called.
No response. The room was dark and quiet. He flicked on the lights.
“Penny?” Hinderman felt foolish calling the rat’s name, but she actually responded to simple commands. Sometimes, the creature reminded him of tiny dog or average-sized Chihuahua.
He stepped in front of her main cage, a palatial mansion of mirrors, toys, and plastic tunnels. Penny was sleeping under a translucent red dome, her body burrowed in bedding. The peaceful scene warmed his heart.
But something was wrong. Penny didn’t move. She didn’t move at all. They might sleep like logs, but even dozing rats breathed. Sometimes, their tiny pink feet also kicked with energetic dreams. Karishma once said that Penny rested more kinetically than other rats. Apparently, she ran in her sleep, squeaked, and nibbled on her chew toys. How Karishma distinguished this “sleep walking” from conscious rat behavior baffled Hinderman, though.
“Wake up! C’mon!” He slapped the side of her cage and raised a metallic ruckus, but she didn’t budge. “No. Please, no, no, no.” Desperately, he reached inside and whipped the red dome away from Penny. He put a heavy hand against her back, which protruded from the bedding. It was cold. It was also plastic.
“What do we have here?” Hinderman removed the toy, a convincing rat replica, from Penny’s cage. Clever. Somebody probably bought the silly thing from that educational toy store in the village. That’s where Fabi found realistic baby rats during the annual summer office prank day extravaganza.
Fine and dandy, but where was the real Penny? He searched her interconnected cages and their many hiding spots with no luck. She’d been ratnapped. That was the only logical explanation. Maybe rats were clever enough to escape a cage, but they sure couldn’t purchase a life-size hard plastic decoy to leave behind.
He checked his watch. It was one AM, and he knew from experience that his colleagues never answered their phones after midnight, but Karishma should know that her beloved Penny had been taken. As Hinderman left her a calm voicemail (as expected, she did not answer), he peeked through the mesh that sealed the window.
In the indistinct distance, where the forest became grassy field, a flash of red darted to the nature trail and vanished behind some trees.
“…and I just noticed a creeper outside. If you don’t see me again, I died for your rat. Bye, Karishma.”
He slowly lowered the phone and picked up his broadsword.
*** It was unusually cold for September, but Hinderman spent his formative years in Maine, so the jog across the field left him sweaty and overheated. Panting, he paused at the nature trail’s head, which was marked by a wooden sign that read: BEAR TROT, TWO MILES
The Bear Trot Trail cut through dense forest and terminated at the village, a cozy, modest island of human conveniences. The village subsisted on tourists and was thirty percent bed and breakfast joints, the last time Hinderman checked. The remaining buildings were quaint antique shops, a toy and candy store, diners, restaurants that took reservations, one McDonalds, and private residences. It was lovely, really.
But between him and the village were two miles of uncaring wilderness.
He shone his makeshift flashlight – an illuminated smart phone screen – down the trail. For a perplexing moment, Hinderman wondered if he’d stumbled onto a set piece for the upcoming theatrical remake of the remake of the movie based on Washington Irving’s Sleepy Hollow. Fog pooled over the ground, and stoic trees flanked the route like soldiers. He even heard mosquitoes rise with buzzing wing beats from the foliage to glut on his blood.
Really? For a rat?
Really. For rat.
He moved at a quick trot. There was a time when Hinderman jogged on the beach every day with his flip-flops and Bermuda shorts, but he’d been sitting on his ass too often lately, so it trot was the best he could do. The hulking sword wasn’t making things easier, either. Several steps down the trail, the fog thickened until it resembled something theatrical created by evaporating dry ice. He kept his eyes peeled for signs that a second person had passed through recently: fresh footsteps, broken branches, maybe a scrap of red cloth cocked on a sharp branch hanging over the trail. But damned if he didn’t find anything. Tracking was much harder than it seemed on TV.
Minutes passed. He must have traveled a quarter-mile. The darkness was so oppressive, it made his office seem downright sunny. Somewhere, an owl hooted. He’d been so focused on pursuing the mysterious person in red, Hinderman completely forgot about the perils of the wild. He could stumble over a bear, for example. Yet his naked toes and calves were a canvas for poison ivy and other irritating plants.
Common sense indicated that he should turn back. Obviously, his prey was too quick. Somebody who jogged often could make the journey between the facility and the village in less than twenty minutes, even if he or she carried a rat. And he wasn’t even considering the possibility that they left the safe, well-trodden path and cut through the forest itself.
Yet, he continued taking one step after another deeper into the forest. Another quarter-mile into the journey, Hinderman saw the most curious thing. Somebody had carved a stick man into one of the old, wide trees growing against the trail. Judging by the sap that welled from the deep cuts, which went straight through the park and into the older flash of the plants, it was relatively fresh. He expected that the vandal left his mark within the week. Hinderman and felt like a character from that Blair witch movie, and he didn’t like it one bit. But those poor characters had it been carrying a broadsword, now had they? No. Now, it would have made a really nice twist to the movie, but that was neither here nor there.
Suddenly, he heard a series of quick, high yelps. With renewed urgency, Hinderman sprinted towards the noise. The pursuit took him farther down the trail, and then he had to make a choice, because the screams came from the deep forest, where he could not depend on a clear path to guide him. Hinderman carried on. He felt sharp plants scratch his lower legs and feet, but his smart phone flashlight was not bright enough to see them, and the persistent fog did not make things any easier.
The yelping subsided, and Hinderman struggled to find his bearings. Then, he smelled roast chicken - honey roasted chicken, in fact, the kind that always tantalized him when he passed through the deli section of the local supermarket. He followed his nose and quickly stumbled upon a modest clearing. There, a fox battled the unyielding grasp of spring-loaded rubber jaw trap. The animal was clasped by its hind leg. Hinderman hoped that its yelping earlier had been in response to surprise and fear rather than pain.
The trail and surrounding forest were protected from hunting, though that obviously did not deter some people. Hinderman looked around worriedly, and when he failed to see a hunter lurking nearby, he removed his shirt and threw it over the fox. The exhausted and now blind animal barely resisted as he freed its leg. However, once the jaws were open, it’s darted away and vanished in the underbrush.
A roast chicken skeleton was propped near the disarmed trap. It looked like somebody had used the remains of supper to attract the animal. Hinderman pried the trap from the ground with a stubborn grunt. Finders keepers. After his trouble, he hoped that the hunters returned to find their trap missing, wasted eighty bucks on a new one, and were promptly struck by lightning.
Well, one crisis had been averted. He was the hero of the hour in fox land, but Penny still needed help.
Sudden pain erupted across his lower back. It felt like he’d been punched by Superman. The impact must have struck a nerve, because he could not move for an alarming few seconds. Then, the sharp pain became a dull ache. He looked down, saw the round, gray stone that had been launched at him, and realized that the gun man had switched his modus operandi and was now attacking people with a sling. A vague suggestion of red fabric on a high tree bough moved. Instinctually, Hinderman lifted his sword. There was a loud, metallic clang as he knocked away the second stone like a badass gladiator baseball player.
“You better climb down here and apologize,” he shouted, “or I’ll…” Or he will what, exactly? Cut down the tree with his broadsword and decapitate the homicidal stranger? “… do something!”
The assailant leapt noisily from his perch, landed with a rustle, and fled. Though he did not see the red-clad person’s escape, Hinderman could hear his footfalls cutting through the brush. They became softer and softer with distance.
Well, so much for the rescue mission. He wasn’t going to hang around until the creeper returned with a gun. Defeated, Hinderman gathered his belongings and hurried back to work. Once indoors, he ducked into the unisex bathroom, washed his sweaty face, and checked his battle scars. A swollen, purple-red bruise had formed on his lower right back. At least it wasn’t over the spine. Now, that really would have smarted. Frowning, he dumped the fox trap in the garbage bin and chucked his dirty shirt over it – who knew where that fox had been? Hinderman wondered if the person in red was just an illegal trapper enraged to the point of violence by his righteous meddling ways. That was a definite possibility.
Ever the optimist, he returned to Penny’s lab for one last desperate search. Maybe, the plastic rat was one of her toys, not a decoy, and she just escaped somehow. That’s what happened during the great breakout of 2031. Hinderman wondered where those twelve escapees went. They were not immortal rats like Penny, but there was still something odd about those animals. Their twinkling red eyes had been unusually crafty.
When he turned on the laboratory lights, Hinderman almost dropped his scuffed broadsword with surprise. Penny was running on her wheel. Stranger still, the toy rat was gone.
“And where were you this whole time?”
Safe and sound, apparently.
With that revelation, he called it an early night.
It was also an early morning, when Karishma woke him at six AM with a frantic, teary phone call. Well, drat. He knew he forgot to do something.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 13, 2013 13:18:42 GMT -8
Chapter Four – So, What's The Deal With Greenwood Church?
DKender's note: this chapter has a lot of dialogue and will probably change big time during December.
“That was fun," Richard said. "Laura, I’m officially the worst kind of sell-out.” He backed their van from the abandoned gas station and turned onto the empty street. The radio played classical music, something Bach. It was better than the nursery rhyme songs that Casey and Ronnie enjoyed when they rode in the van, but he was not a fan of music composed before the twentieth century. He wasn’t partial to jazz, either. Contemporary hip-hop, pop, rock, and country were also annoying. And Richard downright loathed dubstep. In other words, the breed of music he liked was difficult to find on the radio.
“Well, thank you anyhow,” Laura said. She sat in the passenger’s seat, buckled up safely, with one hand hanging from the open window to play with the cool air. “You’re a wonderful actor. I thought that Rev. Greenwood had returned in spirit and possessed you.”
“If that ever happens, please kill me. Fortunately, I just repeated your father’s Thanksgiving speech, with a few creative differences. Ugh. I may be sick.” He made the sign of the cross over his chest. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et cetera, help me.”
“Lower your window, then!” She laughed. Laura’s teeth were delightfully white and straight, well suited for either a dentist or movie star. They rarely argued, because he could not stay angry when she smiled, and she didn’t get angry at all. Richard speculated that growing up with her Ma and Pa burnt out Laura’s fury bone. They were the most enraging people he’d ever met. Self-righteous, opinionated, ignorant … Unfortunately, he had to play nice, because Casey and Ronnie loved their grandparents for some reason (it was probably all the affectionate gifts of candy and toys). “Well, I feel like ice cream,” Laura said. “Can we? Mom’s watching the boys.”
“All right. Let’s celebrate my talent as a sycophant.” “Fantastic!” At the strip mall with the area’s only ice cream parlor, Richard noticed a familiar scooter. Then, he saw two equally familiar people sitting in the brightly lit shop. Each tended a heaping, untouched bowl of ice cream.
But how? Those two left at least a half hour before he and Laura did. Either they stopped somewhere on the way, which was unlikely considering that the only place between the gas station and Rudee’s Ice Cream Central was a ceramics gallery, or they’d been travelling thirty miles under the speed limit.
Richard unbuckled his seatbelt, but he lingered in the minivan. Ah, the best laid schemes of mice and men ... He took great pains to keep his work and personal lives separate. One step into that ice cream parlor would send cracks through the fragile wall. It was just one encounter. A brief smile and wave would settle his social obligations, and then he could order sorbet and sit in a private booth with Laura. Speaking of Laura, she currently waited outside his door, hands on her hips, smiling, always smiling. Her resting expression resembled the Mona Lisa. His was a scowl, and Richard’s eyebrows, with their severe arches, didn’t help matters.
In, order, smile and wave, sit. In, order, smile and wave, sit. In: a bell over the door rang cheerily, and the young man standing behind the ice cream counter called, “Welcome to Rudee’s!” Order: he asked for a medium bowl of raspberry and coconut sorbet, and Laura had cookie dough ice cream in a waffle cone. Smile and wave: Fabi and Karishma looked up from their bowls and returned the greeting. Sit: Laura was pulling the chair up to his coworker’s table. Okee dokee. So much for best laid schemes.
“I hope we aren’t interrupting,” Laura said.
“Not at all. Fabi was just about to explain your adventure tonight.” Karishma held up her phone. “Look at this message. ‘Hurry. They found us.’ I thought a mob with pitchforks was going to kill you.”
“It still may,” Fabi said.
“The Greenwood folks come on strong,” Laura said, speaking with the calm and comforting tone that she usually reserved for root canal patients, “but they are completely harmless. I promise. Pinky swear. Rev. Greenwood taught nonviolence. We are not permitted to hurt anybody. As the old adage goes, all the grudges on this green earth will be settled in due time. When the Apocalypse beasts rise, they’ll know who deserves to suffer and carry out the punishments. Just like Santa Claus!”
Richard noticed that expressions of surprise, vague concern, and confusion had seized his coworkers. Now, they would ask the question…
“Is that really how Santa Claus works?” Karisma wondered.
“Yeah, and more importantly: why did you say ‘we’?” Fabi asked. “So, are you really part of the cult?”
“More or less,” she explained. “I’m a due-paying member. It’s fifty dollars a year, actually. Not bad, since the monthly potluck dinners are free. That price is also a fair trade for the company and supportive social environment. Obviously, I don’t believe in their kooky prophecies, but my parents have been members since the beginning.”
“So, were your parents the ones who quote unquote nonviolently assaulted me with smoking bundles of sticks?”
“No,” she said, “Ma and Pa weren’t there tonight. The couple holding burning herbs were Mr. and Mrs. Moore. They administer spiritual rites when Jasper cannot guide us.”
“And Jasper is?”
“The group’s leader,” Richard said. “He apprenticed under Rev. Greenwood. I’m sorry you were treated so poorly, Fabiana. Personally, I think they should be cited or even arrested.”
“Can you start from the beginning?” Karishma asked. She delicately wiped pistachio ice cream from the corner of her mouth with a folded napkin. “I’m totally lost.”
“Sure,” Fabiana said. “I’ll tell you my side of the story, but it may not make sense. Right now, I’m confused, too.” She stared thoughtfully into space, as memories of that night unfolded. “After some thought earlier,” she began, “I realized that the person who shot our laboratory was probably fear mongering. Obviously, that makes Greenwood a likely suspect. It also explains why the police have been so incompetent. You probably didn’t notice him, but one of responding officers attended the meeting today.”
“Actually,” Richard interrupted, “the police response has been standard. I’m not claiming that’s a good thing, but at least there haven’t been obvious signs of corruption. Occam’s razor, Fabiana. A drunk hunter shot the lab. You criticize Greenwood Church for their wild ideas, and rightfully so, but your paranoid suspicions are hypocritical.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s pretend that the police are usually slow and unhelpful. Slow, unhelpful, and clueless, since they still don’t know where the gash in my arm came from. Regardless, I think somebody from Greenwood Church is involved. Those freaks called me Lilith! See, Karishma, I decided to make like a detective and investigate the cult myself. They’re always advertising Friday gatherings in the old barn, so I wore a disguise and parked here. It’s a ten minute walk to the farm from this strip mall. Considering their obsession with Dr. Becker and his work, they probably know what my car looks like. That’s why I hoofed it.”
“You disguised yourself?” Karishma asked. Fabi didn’t look much different than usual. Her hair was loose, rather than tied back in a high bun, and she’d plastered heavy makeup around her eyes. However, she probably made similar changes before a night out on the town.
“I had a fake nose and chin,” she explained. “They fell off somewhere between the barn and gas station, most likely.”
“Where did you acquire a fake nose and chin?”
“My apartment. Old Halloween stuff. So, just imagine me wearing a convincing disguise. I walked all the way to the farm. Along the way, Richard passed in his minivan.”
“That was me, all right,” he said. “But to your credit, the disguise worked. Mostly. See, after I dropped Laura at the farm and turned around to head home, I passed you again and recognized your walk.”
“Apparently,” Fabi said, “I walk funny.”
“No,” Richard explained, “but everybody moves differently, right? I’ve known you for some years. You walk on your toes and favor the right side.”
“Sherlock Holmes! I broke my left leg in high school. Gymnastics accident. You’re really observational. Huh. Even I didn’t notice that I lean when I walk.”
“That was pretty neat,” Karishma said. “Good job, Mr. Wisconsin.”
“Hah. Thanks. But don’t start calling me Mr. Wisconsin, too. Yeesh. My first name is fine.” Actually, Richard had a doctorate degree and preferred Doctor to Mister, but he wasn’t pretentious enough to mention that.
“Back to the explanation,” Fabi continued, “I walked to the farm wearing my disguise, and I didn’t realize that Richard had recognized me, so the mission was a lonely one. Have you ever been to the farm?”
“No,” Karishma said. “But it’s reputably very scary.” The farm was not actually a farm anymore – generations ago, it supported some crops and dairy cows, but when Rev. Greenwood bought the property, he built a modest mansion, converted the wooden barn into his church, and traded the cows for some cute pet pigmy goats. His ailing widow still lived on the grounds, but she never left her bedroom, so the mansion and barn were currently overrun by loyal cultists. All things considered, it was the last place Karishma wanted to visit. “The reputation is correct,” Fabi said. “And it was doubly scary today, Did you notice the red sunset? Blood-colored, like a bad omen. I may not believe in sky omens, but a creepy atmosphere wrecks morale. I originally planned to go straight to the barn, but, uh, the red sky and the loneliness ...”
“You chickened out?”
“Indeed!” She dropped her spoon into her empty ice cream bowl. It clattered emphatically. “Can anybody really blame me? What if my fake nose fell off in the middle of some ancient, sacred ritual? Spirit gum isn’t foolproof. Especially old spirit gum. So I decided to hide near the farm until the meeting started. Then, under the cover of darkness, I’d sneak ‘round back to the barn and eavesdrop.
“With a new plan and spring in my step, I climbed a tree near the road. It took longer than anticipated, but worth every second, ‘cause from the branch, I could see the barn. People filed in ...”
“Hold on! You could see the barn from a tree?” Laura asked. “Where?”
“Nice try!” Fabi said. “But I’m not telling. You’ll cut down my hidey spot, cultist!” “Oh, no, no!” Laura smiled widely. “Why would I?”
“I can think of some …”
“Let me interject here,” Richard said. “Though I’d planned to spend the evening with my kids, Fabiana’s disguise was troubling, considering the direction she’d been headed. So I eventually turned the van around and tried to find her.”
“Without success,” Fabi said. “He drove right past my tree. It’s obviously a really awesome hiding spot.” “So you could see the road and the barn?” Laura asked.
“Stop trying to guess! But yes. I waited until dark. About forty people filed into the barn, in the meantime. By the way, with a group that size, there’s no point reassuring me that Rev. Greenwood preached nonviolence. Some wildcard with a complex probably decided that judgment day was taking too long.
“By eight, I felt comfortable leaving the tree and skirted around the farm’s edge, directly behind Greenwood’s mansion. By the way, it was totally dark and quiet, except for one bright window on the top floor. The curtains were drawn, though, so I doubt anybody noticed me. A dog barked somewhere far away, and that scared me silly. False alarm, fortunately. There are goat pens behind the barn, so I used the fences as cover, snuck close, and rolled under a wagon that was parked against the building. It was a tight squeeze. “There was a gap between the two boards that was wide enough to peek through. I observed movement inside – some shoes, a row of metal chairs. It was difficult to see anything else, though. Luckily, the speakers used a microphone, so I heard plenty.
“A man was discussing fundraisers. Bake sales, charity car washes, that sort. Then, he went on and on and on about plagues.”
“Vector and gift,” Laura said. “Pests and pestilence. They go hand in hand in a partnership of perfect sorrow.” She handed Richard her waffle cone and then clasped her hands together, entwining the long fingers tightly. “As we know, the black plague was spread across Europe by fleas on rodents, smallpox across the Americas by the conquistadors and colonists …”
“I take umbrage at your suggestion!” Fabiana said. “My ancestors weren’t pests.”
“Your ancestors were conquistadors?” Richard asked.
“Sure,” she said. “One of them. Dad can trace his lineage back to the fifteen hundreds.”
“How good for you.” Richard was adopted, but he never lost sleep over questions about ancestry.
“I wasn’t suggesting that Spaniards are the only human pests,” Laura explained, with a deeply apologetic tone. “Oh, no! We all are! The entire species. What you heard tonight was the entirety of Rev. Greenwood’s final prophesy. See, when the beasts of the apocalypse failed to appear with the millennium, he retreated into the forest like a hermit and consulted his sacred books. The man was quite ill. Nobody expected him to live until the next New Year, and indeed, he passed mid-February. But after completing his meditation, Rev. Greenwood made one final prophesy. He explained that judgment day had not only arrived as promised, the beasts of the apocalypse were living among us, hidden. They were disguised as people and would spread a plague to cleanse the earth of scum.”
“No wonder you guys think we’re evil,” Fabiana remarked. “Karishma works with special rats, and I do viral stuff.”
“You study bacterial viruses,” Karishma said. “Not black plagues or locusts. And Richard designs beautiful flowers. How do blue roses contribute to the apocalypse? I think it’s cruel, the way people spread nasty rumors.”
“I completely agree,” Laura said. “A shame you can’t choose your family and their beliefs, right? If only Ma and Pa had been Scientologists. But we should continue.” She retrieved her cone and licked the melting cookie dough ice cream. “If I recall correctly, you caused a ruckus shortly after the speech about plagues.”
“Richard caused a ruckus,” Fabiana said. “He called my cell phone, and when it rang, the barn folks heard this.” She held up her phone and played a cutesy electro tune, the default ring tone that she always meant to change into something more respectable.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said, “but the next time you spy on cultists, I recommend silencing your phone. It’s good practice.”
“I didn’t expect anybody to call! It just doesn’t happen, okay? Plus, if I silenced my phone, there’s a huge chance – like ninety percent – that I’ll forget to turn the sound back on later. Doesn’t matter. Everyone was really quiet after the speech about death and destruction. Then, my phone rang, and I was had. I’d been looking through a slit in the wood, and immediately, like within seconds, somebody was looking back at me. Don’t know what they saw, because I bolted. Crawled from under the wagon and ran. In my panic, I forgot to take a secretive route. Instead, I went straight toward the road. This took me in front of the barn, where there were tons of lights and parked cars. Some people had already left the building to investigate, I guess, and they shouted at me. ‘Come back,’ they said. ‘Hey you. Who are you?’ My disguise worked. Or maybe it was the shadows. Either way, nobody recognized me, but they still followed.
“It’s downhill from the barn to the road, and I had a head start, so I reached pavement before long. But there were at least five guys giving chase. Lucky I have long legs. A couple of the slower ones gave up. So it was just me and three fit guys who were about my height and totally more athletic. They were gaining ground fast. Plus, I knew that I couldn’t stay on the road, or the cars parked around the barn would just pull out and follow. No way I can outrun a car. I probably couldn’t even outrun your scooter, Karishma.”
“Certainly not,” Karishma said, “because it can go ninety miles per hour.”
“Whoa. No kidding! Well, I was about to duck into the forest and probably trip over a rock, bash open my head, and save the cult a lot of effort, when Richard drove by. Actually, he nearly hit me.”
“I’d been on the way home again,” he explained. “Just about to call it an evening. Luckily, she noticed me, I noticed her, and the rest is history.”
“Wait,” Karishma said. “You called me. You said the Greenwood church was chasing you. You told me to hurry. Why? Not that I mind, honestly. It's always a pleasure. Just, inquiring minds and all.”
“They were chasing us,” Richard said. “A couple trucks pulled from the farm and drove my way. They saw Fabiana climb into my van."
"Why not explain that Fabi is your friend? Are you actually afraid of the church? Would they really hurt you? Are they capable of mob violence? Should we be worried? Is Penny safe?"
Karishma was getting excited, so Richard took a fall and shared more than he wanted to. "You know, Laura’s parents already think I’m a lowly sinner."
“It's true. They do!" Laura said, and she patted his arm.
“There you go.” He shook his head, as if the whole mess gave him a headache. “I did not want to be associated with tonight’s nonsense. When Fabiana climbed into the van, I floored it. The plan was: lose our pursuers, take a back road to the strip mall, drop off Fabi, and then proceed with life as if nothing happened. It was a good, simple plan. A plan like that should work. Lose them, take the back road, drop off, life goes on. I waited until a bend in the street, made a quick right onto Mont Hollow, and pulled into an empty driveway. They didn't follow.”
“Good!” Karishma said. “Mission successful?”
"Almost. So close. But then Laura called me. Her pals recognized our vehicle and wanted an explanation."
"You didn't have to run away in the first place, Fabiana," Laura explained. "They're public events. We welcome visitors from all stations of life. But when you hide under a wagon, interrupt our moment of silence, and dash without an explanation, it's rather alarming. Plus, pieces of your face were falling off."
"Oh? Oh, is that so? You guys were so alarmed, you tracked me down, beat me with sticks, and threw dirt at my eyes?"
"Nobody beat you," she said. "Those were bundles of herbs and myrrh powder. They negate bad spiritual resonance."
"When did this happen?" Karishma asked. "It sounds like you and Richard escaped."
"It happened when I learned that Richard's significant other was at the meeting. After she called, he threatened to return to Greenwood’s barn …”
“I considered it. No threats involved.”
“Well, I freaked out and decided to call a real friend. So he could just drop me off at the gas station and scamper back to Laura.”
"You were actually going to leave Fabi at an abandoned gas station?" Karishma asked. "Alone? It's probably a secret meth lab!"
"Yes, because she's an adult. Adults make their own choices and deal with them."
"I planned to climb a tree and hide until you and your scooter arrived," Fabi explained. She patted Karishma's shoulder in a friendly manner, but Karishma pulled back slightly with a perturbed expression.
"Considering the state of that station," Richard said, "I probably would have reconsidered and stuck around. But the point is moot, since our new plan bombed. As I pulled into the parking lot, a truck passed. It happened to be one of our pursuers. He reversed. We'd been discovered."
"Yeah, discovered by lots of angry people," Fabi said. "They ganged up on me. It was like middle school. Why does everyone call me Lilith, by the way?"
"You Becker people all have nicknames," Laura explained. "It is basically middle school, yes."
"Even me?" Karisma asked. "What? What's my name?"
"Cutie Pie." Laura smiled sweetly.
"You're lying. It's probably something meaner. At least Lilith is pretty."
"Okay, I'm going to finish this story, because reliving the event is seriously killing my vibe," Fabi said. "People were shouting and cursing me out. Then, some herbs and myrrh materialized from their collective asses. Nonviolence? Whatever. The whole time, I just hid my face and hoped they'd lose interest." She sighed and played with her metal ice cream spoon. "You always figure you'll act heroically in those situations, but when they actually happen, it's impossible to think straight. In the ideal world, I jumped up a tree cast-eth twigs down upon the mob. But no. Fortunately, Richard started shouting, and he must be the pied piper of zealots, because everybody was completely distracted. Like, enraptured by his words. I hid until you arrived. For somebody with a scooter that goes ninety, you sure took long enough."
"The speed limit is thirty-five. To my credit, I was pushing forty the whole trip. What did you say to them, Richard?"
"Basically a rant against Monsanto,” he said. “All stuff you've probably heard before."
"But you love Monsanto!" Shocked, Karishma covered her mouth delicately with one hand.
"I wouldn't say love. The corporation has screwed over the little guy one too many times. But in theory, yes, they're pretty cool."
"Well, thanks for your help," Fabi said. "Both of you. Hm, I think it's high time to drive home and forget that this night ever happened." She glanced at her wrist. It was bare. Damn! Her lovely silver watch, a gift from Auntie Regina, must have fallen off during the ruckus. Its clasp was loose - she'd been meaning to fix that for months, but now it was too late. Fabi defintely could not return to the farm to search the grounds and check its lost and found.
What a shame. She loved that watch; it was unusually valuable, considering her typical wardrobe accessories. And what had the night's shenanigans accomplished, after all was said and done? Obviously, Greenwood church had plenty of members who'd celebrate her murder. But Fabi was no closer to identifying the actual culprit.
She put her dirty bowl and spoon in the 'used dish' bin and held the door open for Karishma, who'd also risen to leave. The other two were busy finishing their ice cream. “Are you going to be okay?” Karishma asked, once she had stepped outside.
“Yeah, it was mostly decorative. Nine times out of ten, I use my phone to check the time. Still. It was solid silver. Auntie will be so disappointed if she ever learns what happened. ”
“What? What is silver?”
Sometimes, Fabi forgot that people weren’t privy to her inner thoughts. “Oh, I think my watch fell off while I was running. But yes, I’ll be fine. Stuff happens. At least nobody was hurt, right?” Admittedly, there was a time when the night’s horrendous failure may have upset her. But Fabi now lived by a liberating new philosophy: nothing really mattered, good or bad, unless she made the effort to care.
“That’s good.” Karishma put her helmet on. “See you at work, I guess. Um, do you think we’re safe?” She lived alone, and it spooked her on good days.
“Just be careful. Lock your doors and stuff. If it makes you feel better, I’ll probably die first, if a murderer is actually targeting the lab.”
Karishma almost told Fabi about the animal bodies she’d found along the trail between the village and research facility. However, it was late, and seemed far too strange at the moment.
“Hey, Karishma?” Fabi said.
“Yes?”
“Laura creeps me out. You think maybe she was the person who shot me?”
“No. Dentists are just weird like that.”
Despite Karishma’s reassurances, Fabi cast a suspicious glance at Richard and Laura, who were still finishing their treats inside Rudee's. Richard was awfully determined to pin the blame on a “drunk hunter” – was he protecting the real shooter? Laura sure acted like the kind of person who’d crouch in some bushes and fire at innocent scientists.
“I think I may have a cavity that needs filling,” Fabi said. “Haha. Yes.”
“Do you really?” Karishma asked. “Or is this another espionage thing?”
“Both.” A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and thunder boomed. Luckily, the two women didn’t believe in sky omens.
Meanwhile, in the ice cream parlor, Richard finished his sorbet. “The principle of Occam’s razor should be applied to all things,” he said. “Fabi’s plan failed because it was needlessly complex.”
“So, what would you do in her place?” Laura asked.
“I’d ask you: did somebody involved with Greenwood Church shoot at our lab?”
“No.” She drummed her fingers on the confetti-colored tabletop. Laura had fake nails, but they were well-trimmed. As a dentist, she could not afford to accidentally stab somebody in the gums. “Maybe I’ll do my own investigation. You’d be surprised what people confess as they emerge from sedation.”
“Case closed.” He had great faith in the drunk hunter theory.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 17, 2013 22:04:55 GMT -8
Chapter Five – Secret Santa Of The Damned
In a twist that nobody expected, the weeks following that exciting Friday night were uneventful. After his encounter, Hinderman scoured the woodland trail for other illegal hunting paraphernalia and collected five trophies. Most were small box traps, well suited for squirrels, mice, and other little animals. He stacked them in the corner of his office, which complemented its clutter.
And when Dr. Becker refused to spend a dime on game cameras, Rin mysteriously brought his own to work. He attached one to a tree in the sinister copse, another at the head of the trail, and a third deeper in the woods. They were solar powered and sent photos directly to his laptop. Yet, throughout October and November, the only files he received were images of joggers, the occasional deer, and several photos of Hinderman inexplicably carrying a broadsword. To each their own. It was not his business to police the weird shit others did in their free time. Plus, the animal attacks had stopped. He wondered if the sociopath who carried out the gruesome crimes had moved, died, or was detained; Rin seriously doubted that somebody who obviously relished the act would just decide to stop. He left his cameras out and ready, prepared for the second round that may or may not happen.
On December first, Richard emailed the entire lab, including its intern, and scheduled a mandatory meeting. As they congregated in the bright meeting room and took their seats, he put three items onto the table: a tray of sugar cookies shaped like bloated snowflakes and stars, a tin pail, and a notepad. They cookies are frosted and dusted by sprinkles. Hinderman dug in before the others, scarfing down one cookie as he piled three more on top of each other to save for later. Karishma stacked two on a festive red napkin that Richard had provided and waited until the others had served themselves before she started eating. Fabi, Richard, and Rin each claimed only one.
“Will Dr. Becker be here?” Fabi asked.
“No,” said Richard. “He doesn’t have to be. It’s time to draw names for Secret Santa.”
A collective groan passed through the room. “What’s the big deal?” Rin asked. “Presents are fun.”
“They should be fun,” Karishma told him. “But the person who is matched with Dr. Becker must buy the right thing, or he will be upset the whole year.”
“I still haven’t lived down the wind chime disaster,” Fabi said, her eyes unfocused and consumed by the memories of a dozen passive-aggressive wind chime jokes.
“Let’s get this over with.” Richard passed around the notepad and a bright red marker. “Write your name here, fold the paper in half, and put it in the bucket. Name, fold, bucket. I’ll draw them for you counter-clockwise, no exchanges unless you receive your own name. And on that note, please do not be your own secret Santa.” He looked pointedly at Hinderman. As each person signed their name, grimmer than people signing over the rights to their souls, cookie crumbs dusted the table in front of Hinderman like fresh snowfall. He brushed them from his beard and casually dropped his name into the bucket. On two separate years, Hinderman managed to choose his own name. Though he claimed that it was simply chance, he’d taken a page from the card shark book and marked his paper with a nick in one corner. Unfortunately, Richard caught on fast.
When they were finished, Richard shook the bucket, dipped his hand inside, and handed a piece of paper to each person around the table. He put aside one for the absent Dr. Becker.
“Hey, why isn’t Penny participating?” Rin asked. The others smiled good-naturedly, though nobody in that room, with the exception of Rin, could tell when he was joking. The intern blinked, seemed unperturbed by their lack of response, and finished his cookie. “I have to go,” he said. “Class work. See you around. Oh, is there a price limit to the Secret Santa thing?”
“No,” Richard said. “Go wild.”
The remaining scientists sat quietly, eating and thinking. Fabi threw half of her cookie into the trashcan, and then felt guilty when she noticed Richard’s hurt expression. “It was delicious,” she said. “I, uh, had a big breakfast, though. You baked them?”
“The whole family did,” he said. “Ronnie wore a paper chef hat. He really …”
“So, who do you guys have for the present thing?” Hinderman asked. “Sorry, Richard. I interrupted. Were you going to show us pictures?”
“No. Actually, I have to get back to work.”
And then there were three.
“Dr. Becker is gone today, right?” Fabi said. “Oh, here’s a thought. The cool stores in the village all close at night, and they aren’t usually open weekends. How about we leave work early to go present shopping?” She loved the village during the holidays in December. It was always decked out in lights, the storefront windows decorated by tinsel and wreathes. Sometimes, snow blanketed the streets and rooftops. However, despite the cool fall, it was a hot winter. She could still go outside without a jacket and feel perfectly comfortable, though her finger nails and lips turned purple when the temperature dove below 60° Fahrenheit.
There was one problem, though. During the wintry season, the free parking spaces along the village street were always packed. That meant she either had to walk down the two mile trail or pay seven dollars per hour to keep her car in one of two small lots directly outside the village center.
Obviously, she preferred to walk. It was a pleasant day, and a dash of invigorating exercise before supper helped her appetite. However, lately, the trail seemed like a spooky, uninviting place. Part of that was caused by a lingering paranoia from September. But she also noticed that somebody had been carving creepy little stick men into the trees.
In other words, Fabi decided that it’d be really swell if she could talk a couple people into joining her leisurely hike. There was safety in numbers. Plus, they could sip hot cocoa in the village. It was pleasant to have company for cocoa.
“Why not?” Hinderman commented with a shrug. “Let me finish running some numbers, and I’ll meet you outside in, say, one hour?”
“You go ahead,” Karishma said. “Two miles there in two miles back is a little much for me right now. Maybe, I’ll drive there and meet up with you.”
Fabi smiled and nodded. At least Richard wouldn’t join them. He was her gift recipient, and she wanted to buy his present that afternoon, while the secret Santa ritual was fresh in her mind, because she would definitely forget about it if she waited any longer. Fortunately, Richard was easy to please. He enjoyed tea. Good tea, the loose leaf kind rich with chunks of spices and flower leaves. She’d pick up a bag of jasmine chai, add some English biscuits, put them in a festive bag stuffed with colorful tissue paper, and call it “mission successful.”
One hour later, she and Hinderman started their trip. It was noon, and a crisp breeze rustled the forest’s leaves. Fabi remembered how the bushes had trembled a moment before somebody fired at her. “I feel like Red Riding Hood,” she said.
“Did I ever tell you that red riding hood attacked me here?” Hinderman asked. “Sometimes, I’m convinced that I was dreaming.” In fact, if Hinderman hadn’t received that nasty bruise, he might have chalked the night up to a bad bag of seaweed.
“You mentioned it,” Fabi said. “Yeah, you told me all about that encounter after I asked why you had a pile of animal traps in your office, remember? So, where did it happen? Maybe, he left some clues in the trees. I’m pretty good at climbing.”
Hinderman pointed ahead of them. “Little farther down this path. And off to the side. I’ll point it out when we reach the place, but any clues he left are probably gone by now. Still, I’d love to see you climb around like Tarzan.”
The pair moved briskly. Now and again, Fabi pointed at symbols carved into tree trunks. They were little stick man with too-long torsos and four fingers protruding from each thin arm. “This person can’t even draw stick people right,” she said.
“Maybe it’s his style. An easy way to distinguish his stick people from the bazillion others in existence. Curious. To me, this looks like somebody who is marking his territory.” He ran a finger over the nearest stick person, as if reading braille. It was carved into a region of the tree that had been scraped clean of bark until it was flat and smooth like a canvas.
Soon, Hinderman located the area where he sighted a sling-wielding Red Riding Hood. He paced in circles around the clearing as Fabi climbed the tree and called, “Nothing up here!” What had she expected to find? Maybe, a scrap of fabric. Or a name carved into the high branch. That would’ve been extremely useful.
Beyond the stick man sightings, they did not encounter anything sinister in the forest that day. Stepping into the village was like entering a portal into a cozy, quaint universe. People strolled hand-in-hand down cobbled sidewalk with steaming mugs of hot cider and big paper shopping bags that contained gifts from the toy store or candy shop. A horse and buggy clopped by, and the passengers wore a quilt across their shoulders. It was still early December, so the village had not reached its peak tourist population, and Fabi and Hinderman could walk side by side without bumping into somebody every other step.
They met Karishma at a café that sold seasonal hot beverages and sandwiches. Fabi enjoyed eating lunch there, and she even had a favorite table in the back corner. It was situated underneath a painting that depicted two women carrying elegant, flowery parasols. “Lunch is on me,” she offered, and neither of her friends could pass up that deal.
They sat around the circular table and read the menus, although each already knew what to order. For Fabiana, a turkey and cranberry sandwich and cappuccino. For Karishma, vegetable barley soup, buttered toast, and a slice of pumpkin pie with hot chocolate. For Hinderman, a roast beef sandwich, chips, two extra pickles, and some Coca-Cola.
“What’s this?” she asked. “You work with Doctor Becker. There’s no time to be a waiter, a research intern, and a student. Second jobs are highly discouraged.”
“My parents own this place,” Rin said. “Betsy was sick today, so they needed me to fill in. Don’t worry. Seriously, it’s cool. I, like, never do this. Uh, be right back.” He carried a tray of tea and sandwiches to its rightful table and then returned to continue the conversation, as if the interruption never happened. “So, your big question was, ‘Why are you working two jobs?’ And that’s it? Really?”
“Yes. I don’t want you to burn out. This may be your final year of college, but it’s still important to do well.”
“Okay, then. Not to be insensitive, but what’s wrong with Miss Reyes? Does she have prosopagnosia?”
“No, but she doesn’t do well with faces. Plus, you look much different without your punky clothing.”
“It’s not punk, actually. More like, I dunno. You can’t really label self expression.”
“Well, you’re very wholesome today!”
“Gee, thanks. My parents will be thrilled. They make me dress like this. I can’t wait to cut the purse strings. Just six more months.”
“I’m sorry. That was supposed to be a compliment.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s cool.” He tucked his hair behind one ear. It fell to one side of his head, as floppy mohawks are wont to do. Karishma thought that the style resembled an unusual comb-over.
“See you tomorrow?” she asked.
“Sure. One more thing. Someone was messing around in the clump of trees outside the lab last night. One AM. It wasn’t Hinderman, either.”
Her expression brightened, though it was also blighted by anxiety. “What does he look like?” She hadn’t checked the copse lately – now, Karishma dreaded to find evidence of the intruder’s activities. “See for yourself.” Out popped a tablet from its hiding spot under the register. Rin poked the screen, scrolled through several images, and finally found the one he wanted. The photo was green-hued, since the game cameras used night vision technology after dark. He flourished the screen.
“It’s hard to tell much. He looks young. Maybe a teenager? Way too young for college.” The intruder was partially turned away, though they could see a wisp of curled, pale hair peeking from the hood he wore. His hoodie and large backpack were much clearer. A patch on the bag’s outer pocket depicted a deer skull.
“You never know. But I think you’re right. Based on this photo? High school, most likely. The local place requires mesh or clear plastic backpacks, for safety, and that one is mostly mesh. Then again, it’s a popular style at the stores around here, considering the demand, so a college student might buy one, too.”
“He’s Caucasian.”
“Ha! That narrows things down. So we can rule out me and you.” She laughed. “Where does that skull come from? It looks like a logo.” “Uh, don’t hold me to this, but that resembles a symbol from the comic book Artemis Corpse.”
“Artemis Corpse? There’s a superhero named Artemis Corpse?”
“Probably not. Maybe an antihero? I don’t really know, though. See, I’m not into that series. But its books are next to Arterial Mirage in that store Graphic Escape, which is where I buy my stuff, so I’ve seen the deer skull symbol many times.”
“Arterial Mirage?” Karishma’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Isn’t that just an illustrated vampire soap opera?”
“No way! That’s what haters say. You should read the series before making judgments.”
Karishma was going to explain that she actually had read some early Arterial Mirage issues, but a family gathered at the register and put their receipt on the counter. When their conversation resumed, it returned to the mystery at hand.
“I’ll return to work and check the area for signs of bad behavior,” Karishma said. “Let me know if you find more photographic evidence, okay?”
Karishma took a free dinner mint from the counter, hesitated, paired it with a plastic-wrapped toothpick, and then left the café. Outside, she glanced over her shoulder and peeked through the frosted glass window. Rin was manning the register with his tablet, his finger sliding rapidly across the screen, as if scrolling through something with many pages. Could it be a comic book? They were usually available in digital formats, but he apparently enjoyed buying the paper and ink copies from that Graphic Escape place. Maybe he was reading a textbook for one of his classes. That would be a constructive use of free time!
On her way to the parking lot, she noticed Fabi and Hinderman leaving the toy shop. They each carried a small paper bags and were heading toward the nature trail. For a moment, she considered filling them in about her investigation’s recent development. It seemed likely that the hooded boy was the same person who fired at Fabiana. He probably stole the hunter’s rifle, took it for a joy ride, noticed her through an open window, and made a shot of opportunity.
Fabi lifted a fresh fake nose from the bag and held it against her face. For goodness sake. With that, Karishma decided to wait until she had more concrete evidence before spreading the news, lest the Greenwood Church incident repeat itself. In the meantime, she was confident that Fabi and Hinderman would be safe on the trail. Hikers and their dogs crowded Bear Trot during the day, and the hooded boy probably wised up after the police-level ruckus Fabi stirred. For the time being, he seemed unwilling to cause trouble by daylight. Plus, high schoolers had to attend school from eight to three.
Now that she and Rin had identified the trespasser and potential animal murderer as a student, his habits made sense. She first noticed casualties during the summer, when students had more freedom. They stopped once the school year started, around the time Hinderman found and removed a half dozen illegal traps. Did this mean that trouble would start again during the late December, early January holiday break? He’d be bored. Maybe he’d have enough money from gifts to buy more traps. The kid would probably hide them more effectively this time.
In other words, she and Rin were now laboring under a two week deadline. She had no intention of confronting the kid face to face, but they needed to collect enough evidence to send the police in the right direction. What would it take? They could photograph them in the act, but that would require the sacrifice of another animal, and Karishma wanted to avoid more suffering at all costs. If they knew his name and address, maybe they could send an anonymous tip to the cops. What would that accomplish, though? She doubted that he incriminating evidence lying around his house, and even if he did, would the police have any reason to check? Crimes against animals were low priority.
Maybe, she could catch him in the act of violence against a human. He obviously didn’t have any qualms attacking men and women when he had an escape route. It was an extremely dangerous idea, but Karishma could not think of any other.
After returning to work, she checked the copse for signs of its late-night visitor. However, there were none. He didn’t carve his calling card into any tree or leave a mutilated body on the ground. In fact, if they hadn’t set up a game camera, she wouldn’t know that anybody had been crouched among the bushes. What was he up to? Reliving his crime? Planning another? Why did people do cruel things?
Rin’s standard response - Why does anyone do anything? – was not comforting.
***
“Are you religious?” Hinderman asked. He and Fabi were one mile down the nature trail, and chatting about work no longer cut it.
“What kind of question is that? Who cares?”
“I’m not judging. Any way you answer is fine. See, every year, we do this Secret Santa thing. Wouldn’t it be funny if nobody here actually celebrated Christmas?”
“Not really,” she said. “Maybe mildly amusing. I think Richard’s mom is Jewish. Don’t ask me how I know that obscure fact when I can’t even wrap my head around the relationship between him and cultist Laura.”
“She’s a pretty good dentist,” Hinderman admitted.
“No kidding. I have an appointment with her next week. It was the earliest time available when I booked the visit in September.”
Hinderman sighed and shook his head, as if reluctantly amused by her plot. “Groups like Greenwood Church are more common than you’d expect,” he said. “Some of their beliefs are fascinating, from an anthropological perspective. I read the Greenwood prophecies after the Reverend died. Some of his friends were passing them out as freebies on campus. If you want a copy, it’s still in my office.”
“Wasn’t that over thirty years ago?” Fabi asked.
“Yeah. I haven’t cleaned my office in a long time.”
Their conversation hesitated as a jogger passed. Then, it resumed on a different track. “Speaking of Secret Santa, what name did you choose earlier?” Fabi asked. “If it’s me, that’s fine. I’m really picky, by the way. You may want a copy of my present list.”
“I got my own name again.” He flourished the piece of paper that was indeed signed: HINDERMAN. It had been tucked into his pocket, behind the tacky plastic pocket protector that was filled with three blue pens, one red pen, and a mechanical pencil.
“Lucky! I got Richard. Hm. Wonder who picked Dr. Becker’s name.” She hoped that the unlucky person chose his present carefully. Another year of passive aggressive comments and hurt feelings would be unbearable.
“Well, it’s either Richard, Karishma, or Rin. Actually, we can rule out Karishma, because she would’ve had a panic attack immediately if he’d been her match.”
By the time they reached work, it was almost 5 PM. Hinderman dug up the tome of Greenwood prophecies from his lair before leaving.
“Enjoy,” he said.
“Did I see a broadsword in your…”
“Enjoy! See you tomorrow.”
He locked his office, waved pleasantly at Fabi, and hightailed out of there. After a moment’s consideration, she took the prophecies to the meeting room downstairs. It was wise to better understand the people she’d be investigating. Maybe, there was a paragraph in the book that foretold an encounter between the nature defilers and a white knight of Greenwood that inspired the shooting incident.
At first, she started from the beginning: My beloved sister or brother, you have been given the unique chance to expand your consciousness and perceive the forces that simmer under the façade of day to day life, the battles between timeless entities who hand pick their warriors with every reincarnation of the universe…
Fabi raised her eyes from the text and stared at the blank white ceiling. It was currently more interesting than Rev. Greenwood’s introductory paragraph. She could not weather through 160 pages of empty text that tossed around epic words like “timeless” and “façade.” Maybe, she could skim the book. Fabi was a powerful skimmer; that’s how she managed to keep up-to-date with the work in her field. She could run through ten new articles in two hours, on a bad day. Though her knowledge lacked depth, it had remarkable breadth.
She flicked from prophecy to prophecy. Within a couple minutes, Fabi glimpsed the word “death” and paused. It was a likely tie-in to a prophesy that encouraged scientist-cide.
The book continued: Prophets take advantage of a curious phenomenon. Momentous events cause ripples in fate, impressions before and after the moment of import, and the observant man interprets these ripples to forsee the pinnacles of bliss and misfortune. A dove that collapses upon the holly bush prophesizes the holy man’s death; before great ships sink and drag their passengers into the dark abyss, toy boats will capsize in bathtubs across the nation …
Oh, for crying out loud. She could not read another word. Fabi was not a fan of science fiction and fantasy. She much preferred stuff grounded in reality, like historical romances. Now, those were worth reading.
However, if she abandoned logic entirely, Fabi could understand why somebody might think that small disasters preceded large ones. After all, Fabi lost her silver watch just a couple weeks before she left her purse in the grocery store. Somebody made off with her wallet and its coincidentally silver credit card. The scoundrel purchased small fortune of foodstuff before she noticed and canceled the account.
She tucked the book in her bag, which was a combination of pockets and laptop case. Fabi would give it one more shot before her appointment with Laura the dentist. As she left the meeting room, she almost bumped into Richard.
“Are you going home?” he asked. “It’s a quarter until five. You worked late today.”
“Is that a jab at my work ethic?” she asked. It was a genuine question. Fabi could never tell the difference between snarky Richard and considerate Richard. His face was not unreadable, per se, it just constantly seemed annoyed, thanks to a unique pair of eyebrows.
“Yes. But in jest. I’m sure you continue working at home. The lab gets tiresome, doesn’t it?”
“I totally do. Yeah.”
“So, do you have plans for December tenth at three PM?”
She squinted at him. “No.”
“Really? No dentist appointments scheduled?”
“Oh my gosh, Richard! What gives? I thought doctor patient plans were confidential!” With an indignant snort, she gathered her belongings and stormed from the building.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 17, 2013 22:14:05 GMT -8
Chapter Six – Rin Stares Down A Zoosadist And Karishma Has A Terrifying Late Night Encounter
Stakeout, Day One:
After his shift at the parental café, Rin took a bus to Graphic Escape. He made forty-one dollars in tips that afternoon, enough to pay the transportation fare and buy some comic books. However, shopping wasn’t his number one goal. There’d be time for fun after the animal murdering sociopath of Bear Trot Trail met Adrasteia.
In the name of inescapable vengeance, Rin was launching a stakeout. Most likely, the wispy-haired suspect would visit Graphic Escape that week to purchase Artemis Corpse issue fifty-nine. He intended to meet the boy eye to eye before making any judgments. A habitual victim of society’s many unfair prejudices, Rin supported the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ philosophy.
Brie and Mags were already outside Graphic Escape when he arrived. The masterminds responsible for last semester’s inspired Naked Truth demonstration, they were a pair of all-around radical women. The two short brunettes, freckled with dark eyes and upturned noses, looked like sisters. In fact, they were just roommates. The resemblance was accentuated by similar tastes in fashion; each wore layers of mismatched pieces from the thrift store, plastic belts, and neon colored leggings. Brie completed her outfit with a velvet bowler.
“Hey,” Rin greeted.
“Hey you,” Mags said.
“Hey,” Brie agreed.
They huddled near a telephone pole, and Rin passed around the green photo on his tablet. “Best case, this guy was taking a peaceful midnight walk. The trail ends near our building, and it’s way easy to miss the path to campus at night.”
“Worst case?” Mags asked. She coyly glanced at Graphic Escape. Its storefront displayed an array of figurines, books, and fantasy board games. Beyond were aisles of merchandise, comic racks, and some tables and chairs for gaming tournaments. At the moment, their suspect was not present.
“Worst case, he’s the shithead who tortures animals. Oh, and maybe shot at Miss Reyes. “
“What a fucker,” Brie said.
A family of four passing on the sidewalk turned on the group with quiet stares of disapproval. Even the five-year-old kid glared.
“Uh huh,” Rin agreed. “I have forty dollars cash, so here’s my plan. We can buy a game inside and play at the empty table until our suspect appears or the shop closes, whichever comes first.”
“Then what?” Mags asked. “Let’s say he shows. You have a plan of action beyond staring at the kid?”
“I may chat with him, too. But you guys? Don’t get involved. Just watch my back.”
“Don’t get involved? What are we here for, then?” Brie asked. She tapped her heel against the sidewalk. It made an impatient click, click sound. “Witnesses to your bravery?”
“Pretty much. Plus, I can’t play Settlers of Catan alone.”
“Not that game again,” Mags whined. “It’s capitalist propaganda.”
Brie snorted and laughed airily. “Funny. She didn’t start harping on Settlers until I beat her three times. Sore loser. Bloody sore loser. She plays Monopoly, though. That’s a-okay. Uh huh.”
“Lizzie Magie invented Monopoly in 1903 to demonstrate that property owners screw their tenants,“ Mags said.
“And then Parker Brothers screwed her and …”
Rin stuck his fingers in his ears and stared pointedly at the telephone pole. They were in a bad mood, evidently, but he’d just ignore them until the argument ran its course. Pointless, pointless argument. About twenty seconds into his vigil, Mags snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Don’t be rude, dude,” she said. “We decided to play that unicorn breeder card game. All right?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Really? I thought it encourages harmful breeding practices in domestic magical animals.”
The two stared at him, and then they nodded thoughtfully, as if partially convinced by his reasoning.
“Cut that out! Seriously, I’m joking. Unicorn breeder. Perfect idea. Let’s go.”
Brie and Mags linked arms like chums and followed him into Graphic Escape. A bright though cluttered space, the store smelled of dragon’s blood incense and employed men and women who probably knew more about pop culture than Wikipedia. It was a truly magical domain. As his stakeout partners took a seat at the gaming table, Rin grabbed a pack of “Unicorn Breeder: Fifth Generation” cards, the latest Arterial Mirage issue, and a large packet of gummy candies from the shelves. After placing them on the front counter, he skimmed the selection of embroidered patches that were spread in a display case behind the register. Bingo. There were deer skull patches in the group.
“Twenty dollars even,” the sales clerk said. “You like our patches, huh? They’re two for the price of one, December only.”
“Cool deer skull,” Rin said. “How long have you kept those in stock?”
The man squinted with concentration. “Four months. Yup, we ordered a bunch in August. They’ve sold well.”
“Sold well?” He couldn’t sneakily determine when the hooded kid bought his patch if twenty other people purchased deer skull patches, too.
“It’s popular. What can I say?” He tucked Rin’s purchases in a plastic bag. “You three gonna play here a while?”
“Yeah. Is that all right?”
“Sure! There won’t be another tournament until Friday. Enjoy!”
He settled between his two friends and opened the fresh deck of cards. “Ten rounds to build, and then we make our unicorns battle. Sound fair?”
“Are we allowed to trade unicorn traits?” Mags asked. “What about non-biological spells?”
“Sure.”
Two hours later, they left the store at closing. The suspect never showed.
Stakeout, Day Two:
Rin built the ultimate platinum unicorn. Its defense was elevated by a metallic coat, he added poison quills to the horn, and the unicorn’s spell arsenal included fire, earth, and water attacks because he’d drawn a “master of the elements” card during the fourth build round. However, Brie, always the luckiest among them, collected the goddamn god mode card. During the game’s fight stage, it drained life points from other combatants and returned her unicorn’s health to maximum whenever she inflicted magical damage.
“This is sad and boring,” RIn said, after the platinum unicorn, noble steed to the smelting god Hevris, died in battle. “Wanna do our calculus homework?”
“I’d rather read about Uranium Sailor.” Brie fished the comic from her messenger bag and passed it around. Uranium Sailor, dressed in revealing blue and white tights, posed heroically on the cover. A two-headed shark peeked from the waters behind him.
“Wouldn’t it be cool to meet a real superhero?” Mags asked, with the faintest wistful sigh.
“Nah.” Rin tugged on his hooked earring. “We’d be collateral damage in their epic battles, for sure. Like, when that fucker killed all those people in St. Rose Clinic, it didn’t matter that good guys eventually stopped him. There were still casualties. Plus, all the heroes and villains live in cities. Those places suck.”
“I like cities,” Brie said. “New York was great.” She opened her comic book. “Anyway, Uranium Sailor lives in a small seaside village, man.”
“Yeah, well, Uranium Sailor is make-believe,” Rin said. “He can live wherever he damn pleases, and trouble will happen because of plot conveniences.”
They chatted, read comic books, and studied until the shop closed. Once again, the stakeout proved fruitless.
Stakeout, Day Three:
The forty dollars cash Rin earned during his stint waiting tables was running low. “Sorry, guys,” he said. “No more candy unless you buy it.”
Once again, they sat around the gaming table in Graphic Escape. Mags had a textbook opened in front of her; she marked the pages with bright highlighters and drank coffee from a thermos. Brie and Rin had a chess game spread between them and homework on their laps.
“I brought some chex mix,” Brie said. “This place is deserted during the week. Like a ghost town.”
As if summoned, the sales clerk meandered to their cheery table. He was a rotund man who wore bright green glasses and a studded jean jacket. “I’ve seen you three here a lot lately!” He leaned over conspiratorially. “FYI, we don’t sell anything with animal products, except for the gummy bears, and gelatin is no big deal, right?”
“Whoa, we’re famous,” Rin said. “This isn’t a protest. Not even close. Uh. We’re …” He glanced at the schoolbook and Spanish worksheet on his lap. The gaming excuse didn’t cut it anymore.
“It’s my psychology project,” Mags said, with a dismissive shrug.
“Really, now?” The man raised his eyebrow, though it was difficult to see behind his thick frames. “What’s your project about? You aren’t filming my customers on the sly, I hope.”
“We’re observing,” she said. “With our eyeballs. Demographics, browsing patterns, and purchases.”
He wagged a finger theatrically. “That’s fine with me. Just. No. Recording.”
They nodded eagerly, and he returned to his post behind the register, where browsed a collection of vintage Batman comics. It was thirty minutes until closing, and Rin expected to declare the night another fruitless stakeout. Then, somebody entered Graphic Escape and moved directly to the comic book racks in the back of the store. As the new customer passed the gaming tables with impatiently brisk steps, Rin saw his face. It was youthfully Romanesque and speckled by zits, appropriate for a teenager of seventeen or eighteen. But more importantly, the boy had wispy, dirty blonde hair. His thin but sturdy build was appropriate for somebody who climbed trees and darted through the woods, and it also resembled the intruder’s frame.
Then, Rin saw his backpack. Deer skull patch. Bingo, baby, bingo! He gave his friends a significant look, and then joined the suspect at the comic book rack. Rin stood beside him, intruding in the guy’s personal bubble by at least a couple inches. “Hey,” he said. The kid nodded almost imperceptibly in greeting.
Time to amp up his game. Rin leaned over and took a copy of Arterial Mirage from the selection; in the process, he brushed against the suspect’s arm.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Depth perception fail. Oh, look there. Artemis Corpse? Cool. What’s that series like?”
For the first time that evening, they made eye contact. Rin enjoyed staring contests tremendously; they provided the chance to study a person’s eyes in detail, a luxury that socially conscious people were rarely afforded. Ever since childhood, he’d appreciated the unique colors and contours in every iris. The blues, greens, and browns reminded him of supernova remnant nebulae, the stunning, massive space clouds photographed by the Hubble space telescope. They were a dead star’s legacy, goddamn poetic monuments. Additionally, the contracting and dilating pupil encapsulated within each iris was like the center of a little galaxy. Something dark, a black hole that absorbed light and converted it into thought.
Needless to say, Rin had a slight eyeball fixation. He tried to keep it on the down low, since his reputation as a weirdo was already well established.
He never liked his own eyes. They were too dark, their pigmentation waves too compact. Rin had to use his mother’s magnifying makeup application mirror to even see their patterns. If only he’d been born with a nebula in each eye, like the lucky ones. Sometimes, when he met a person with an extraordinary or unusual pair, he yearned to fashion perfect replicas from colored glass, like big marbles, and put them on a shelf.
The boy had blue eyes, and Rin definitely wanted to make them into marbles. Their color was washed out and pale, very pale, with the occasional spark of green. The dominant hue was not the bright blue of a cloudless, intensely pleasant sky. Rather, it was the blue over a gray sea, the sky before a mellow rainfall. And the fractal-like texture of each iris, dense fingers of color around the outer edges that thinned near the centers, resembled reflections of the Crab Nebula.
Blue-eyes didn’t blink or look away. In fact, he seemed one hundred percent unfazed. His pupils were steady. They neither expanded nor contracted, like pupils often did during awkward staring contests.
“Way better than a vampire soap opera,” Blue-eyes finally said. “See ya.” Then, he turned with a stylish flick of his hair and went to the front counter to buy his comic book. Mags joined the kid there, a bag of candies in her hand, and stared at him with honest curiosity as he handed the sales clerk a membership card and cash. Once the exchange of money, merchandise, and receipts was made, he briskly exited.
Mags and Brie gathered around Rin, who still stood at the comic rack with Arterial Mirage in one hand.
“That’s him,” Rin said.
“You sure?” Brie asked.
“Yeah.”
“So, Felix Bernard?” Mags asked. “He’s our guy? Ugh. Annoying. I really like Artemis Corpse. It’s one of my favorites, and the whole Greek mythology angle is cool. Now, he’s spoiling the well.” After some questioning glances from her friends, she added, “The name ‘Felix Bernard’ was on his card. I don’t think he’d use a fake one for something innocent like a comic book store membership card, right?”
“Probably not,” Rin agreed. “Well, cool. Don’t worry about the fandom thing. Sometimes, bad people like good stuff. I bet tons of villains enjoy cake. Whatever. Super job, by the way. Now we have a name.”
That’s all Rin needed: a name, a face, and the conviction that blue eyed Felix was trouble. He checked his phone thoughtfully. It was just shy of nine; Karishma would be at the lab, reading Penny’s nighttime story books. Maybe, he’d give her a call on the bus and share the good news. He planned to identify Felix Bernard’s address next, scope out the place, and make plans based on his findings. Rin, Mags, and Brie each took a handful of candy to celebrate a successful stakeout. They all hoped it was a sign of good things to come.
***
After Rin shared the results of his investigation, Karishma closed her phone and went to the window in Penny’s lab. Through its mesh, she could see the forest on the horizon. At night, it resembled a solid black wall. Anxious, she lowered the blinds and dimmed the lights. Then, Karishma sat next to Penny’s cage. She drew her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“I won’t leave you tonight,” she promised. “Never again, Penny.” Young Felix obviously considered the lab to be a prime target. And for a good reason! It was isolated, surrounded by a forest with myriad places to hide, and one of its scientists (the nefarious Hinderman) directly meddled with his creepy traps. In fact, Felix was probably planning an attack that very moment! She wondered if he currently crouched in the copse, hidden from the game camera by a bush or tree.
Maybe, he’d wait until the high school closed for two weeks during late December. He probably expected the lab to be empty, too, since the university also scheduled a holiday from the twenty-first until the second.
She and Rin had to act quickly. But how?
Karishma unrolled a sleeping bag from her camping backpack and spread it on the floor near Penny. She’d showered, brushed her teeth, and changed into a fresh set of clothes at home earlier. It would be difficult to embrace to her new schedule, but Penny was definitely worth the sacrifice. Though the lab was spooky in the dark, she turned off the lights to conserve energy and tried to get some rest.
Fortunately, the squeak, squeak, squeak of Penny’s running wheel was a comforting, familiar sound that lulled her to sleep. Before joining Dr. Becker’s lab, Karishma kept her rat sister in her bedroom. They’d been roommates since her childhood. She hated living alone!
Somewhere, a door slammed. The jarring sound woke Karishma suddenly, only three hours and forty minutes after she fell to sleep. Could it be Hinderman? He often worked strange hours. Certainly, it was Hinderman! Never fear.
But she had to be certain. Karishma crawled to the door, cracked it open, and peered into the hallway. The motion-sensitive lights were on, their brightness blinding. As she waited for her pupils to adjust, Karishma glimpsed a tall, thin figure approaching from the stairwell. Hinderman and wasn’t tall, and he wasn’t terribly thin, either. Gasping, she closed and locked the door. Could the stranger be Richard? No, he had a family and would not work nights. Karishma scampered to her backpack and fished out her cell phone. Who could she call? Her family was in St. Louis. The police would take too long. Campus security? What was their number, again?
Suddenly, the traitorous lock turned with a click, and the door swung open. She screamed and threw herself in front of Penny’s cage. “Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt her! Don’t … Dr. Becker?”
Indeed, the lanky silhouette poised in the doorway was either Dr. Becker or his identical twin.
“Suvakumar! Is that a sleeping bag?” He turned on the lights, and she flinched. “I don’t remember approving an all-nighter. Was this the rat’s idea? She’s a horrible influence. Shame on you, Penny.”
Penny had been running in tight circles, alarmed by Karishma’s screams. Now, she climbed the cage bars and sniffed the air.
“Oh, no!” Karishma tried to collect herself. Jittery with waning fear, she stood and distractedly brushed imaginary dust from her arms. “Please, don’t blame her. This was all my idea.”
“That’s a relief. I’m glad your rat doesn’t actually speak to you, Suvakumar. Well, go on. What is the excuse for this?” He stepped into the lab and turned on the lights. Dr. Becker was a distinguished fifty-something man who kept his pointed salt and pepper beard well-trimmed and wore a beret so often, Karishma had never actually seen the top of his head. He was good looking in a classical Hollywood way, and she attributed his popularity to that charismatic face. Though Dr. Becker was quite intelligent, and his work with transgenic animals had revolutionized the designer pet market, there were innumerable intelligent, revolutionary scientists in every field that hadn’t achieved a fraction of his popularity. Rather, she believed that he attracted media attention and spots as a guest commenter on news programs with that certain visual je ne sais quoi that few of his colleagues possessed.
“We’ve been tormented lately!” Karishma said. “I’m worried about Penny.”
“Are you still going on about that accident in September? I may need to bring in a psychiatrist, at this rate.”
She had to tell him everything. Dr. Becker wouldn’t take her seriously otherwise. “It’s more than that. The kid who shot at Fabiana has been lurking here at night. Rin and I are both witnesses! I think he is planning more trouble. And with his history tormenting small woodland animals, Penny isn’t safe.”
A change came over Dr. Becker’s face. Normally softened by an affably arrogant half-smile, it hardened with a frown. “What? I haven’t heard anything about kids and woodland animals. Start from the beginning.”
“Well, we only have circumstantial evidence, Doctor. However, Rin and I are …”
“Hold on.” He leaned against a counter and struck a dashing pose. “Who the hell is Rin?”
“The intern.”
“Right. Goth boy. Proceed.”
“I wouldn’t call him goth. Self expression is hard to label, but that …”
He smacked his hand against the counter top emphatically three times. The sound frightened Penny, who scurried into her dome. “Shh. Karishma. I don’t care. Let’s focus, please.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ve been finding … this … around the trail and lab since summer. “ She took out her phone and shared photographic evidence of the animal murderers. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
“That isn’t natural,” Dr. Becker agreed. “And you think it’s connected with the Reyes incident?”
“I do. Fabiana isn’t the only person who has been attacked. Hinderman found some of the kid’s animal traps in September – he was pelted with rocks! And Rin and I, well, we have proof that somebody was lurking here quite recently. He must …”
“Zoosadism and violence against humans. I’ve never seen met somebody like this person before, but it’s not impossible. Karishma, why do you call him a kid?”
“He’s in high school.”
“Well, isn’t that typical. I bet he’s a newcomer, too. Moved here with Mom and Dad during the summer – they must move often, thanks to the young master. He probably hates this small town and feels superior to its quaint, simple people. Thinks he can get away with anything. Thinks he’s God.” Dr. Becker strode to the window and pulled up the blinds with a violent tug on their cord. He put one hand against the mesh and peered outside. “Annoying. Actions without a motive. Senseless destruction. How can we prepare for that? How can we predict it? Do you believe in fate?”
He so relished the sound of his own voice, Karishma almost did not realize that Dr. Becker had asked her a question. “Fate?” she asked. “Oh, I suppose. But it’s nothing romantic. Every action has a consequence. When the Big Bang formed our universe, its motions set off a chain of events, and we belong to the chain.”
“Cute. Maybe you’re right.” He drummed his fingers on the windowsill. “I’m very disappointed.”
“Disappointed? In me?” Karishma resisted the urge to cry and clasped her hands instead.
“In you, Hinderman, and the intern. Were the others involved? If so, I’m disappointed in them, too. You neglected to share information that affects the lab. Why?”
“It was all, well, um, why? We didn’t want to bother you before we understood more.”
He shook his head. “You should never feel that way. I’m here to serve, as a mentor and confidante! Right? So, what does the trouble maker look like?”
She tried to remember Rin’s description. “About five ten, blond hair, and two breathtaking nebulae burning in his hateful skull?”
“Ignoring the subjective English lit frill, you just described half the teenagers in this town.”
“His name is Felix Bernard.”
Dr. Becker turned from the window. “Now that is helpful! Excellent work.” He patted her shoulder; out of respect, Karishma did not pull away, but she hated being treated like a piece of furniture. Why did her taller colleagues feel free to plop their hands on her back?
“What should we do, Doctor? It’s mostly suspicions at this point, but I cannot put Penny at risk.”
They looked at the rat in question, and she peeked from her dome.
“It’ll be fine,” Dr. Becker promised. “You can stay here tonight. But don’t make this a habit. And as for you, rat! Good night, fluff ball.” He paused in the doorway. “Don’t let the fleas bite. Haha!”
Karishma frowned. Her Penny did not, never had, and never would carry fleas. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Doctor?”
“Maybe. Though I expect to be occupied lighting a fire under the snails responsible for that fence. Almost three months and no progress, but they renovated the new gym in a couple weeks. Maybe we can have it electrified, with enough strong-arming. Yes, that’ll do.” He left with a wink and snap of his fingers.
Once she was confident that Dr. Becker would not return, Karishma climbed back into her sleeping bag. She resisted the charms of Penny’s squeak, squeak, squeak lullaby and spent the night in a near-fevered state of wakeful vigilance.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 23, 2013 23:13:44 GMT -8
Chapter Seven – First Blood
Fabiana normally had her teeth cleaned in the city by a brusque dentist who worked in a sterile clinic and referred to patients by their last name. She was therefore shocked and amazed by the state of Laura’s practice. The woman owned a former residence turned dentist office; its exterior was cheery plum purple. Fabi almost mistook the place for yet another cutesy family house, but she fortunately noticed its sign. A giant tooth had been painted on a rustic wooden board. The words HEALTHY HAPPY SMILES FOR THE FAMILY were scrawled across it in loopy cursive.
She briefly wondered what an unhappy smile would look like. A grimace, perhaps, like a snarling dog. Fabi noticed that the flowering bushes and lawn around the building were vibrantly colored, lush, and well-trimmed. That was definitely Richard’s influence. He had a talent for horticulture. She was just surprised that he didn’t plant some of his polka dot red and white buttercups.
Richard’s work was the money maker in their lab. His true black, Rorschach, and bioluminescent roses were in high demand, especially internationally. Fabi supposed that Laura was restricted to natural breeds of landscaping shrubbery, however, because the Greenwood church was no fan of science-defiled organisms, even really, really beautiful ones. And considering how prominent the church seemed in their little town, Fabi suspected that alienating the group would be very bad for business.
There were three cars parked in the wide driveway. However, when Fabi stepped into the building, its cramped waiting room was empty. Maybe the vehicles belonged to Laura and her tooth nurses, or whatever those dental assistants were officially called. The young man behind the reception desk, which was actually just a typical desk with a computer and credit card processing machine on it, wordlessly handed Fabi a clipboard, a pen, and a piece of paper for her basic medical information.
“Hello to you, too,” she said. He stared at her, radiating aloof disdain.
“The doctor will be with you shortly,” he said. “Please complete the forms I gave you, and feel free to enjoy our selection of magazines.”
Fabi took a seat on the wicker chair in one corner of the waiting room. The room itself was long and narrow, with bookshelves along one wall, several chairs along the other, a water cooler to the left, and Mr. Sunshine to the right. A generic framed watercolor painting of some ugly flowers in a sloppy vase hung between the bookshelves. Once she completed her paperwork, Fabiana took a closer look. The names “Casey and Ronnie” were scrawled across one corner; it had been painted by talented three-year-olds. Ah, child labor. She always suspected that’s where dentist offices acquired half of their decorative artwork.
With a sigh, she thumbed through the selection of Healthy Living and Happy Home magazines piled in the shelves. Some were almost five years old. It was like a museum for boring magazines.
“The new ones are on the coffee table,” Mr. Sunshine told her.
Suddenly, a door behind him opened, and an elderly man stepped outside. Mr. Sunshine’s demeanor changed completely. With a radiant smile, he said, “good to see you! How was the cleaning, Sir?”
“I have two new cavities,” the man said, with a helpless shrug and shake of his head. “It’s the taffy. I just can’t stop eating taffy.”
“Oh, that darn taffy!” They laughed, as if taffy was the funniest word uttered by mankind. And before she knew it, Fabi was laughing, too, because their joy was remarkably contagious.
Suddenly, a willowy woman stepped into the doorway. The combination of stern expression, tight ponytail, and green scrubs suggested that she helped the master dentist with dirty work. “Miss Reyes?” she asked. “Please follow me.”
Fabi did as instructed. Beyond, a short hallway led to a surprisingly well-equipped exam room. Implements of oral torture, the big reclining chair, a blinding adjustable light: everything she expected to see was present. Additionally, a life-sized medical skeleton, complete from skull to toe bones, was hanging in one corner.
“What’s that for?” she asked. “Isn’t it overkill for a dentist’s office? I thought you guys stuck to the mouth area.”
“His name is Mr. Funny Bones,” the tooth nurse explained. “Kids love him. It’s important that children are comfortable when they visit the dentist. We don’t want tantrums.”
“So, that guy … is comforting?” Fabi hadn’t been a child for twenty years or so, but she was certain that a human skeleton would have scared her young self.
“He tells jokes. Well, have a seat.” Tooth Nurse turned briskly on her heels and strode to places unknown. Now alone, Fabi paced around the examination chair. She considered hiding some of Laura’s pointy tools, like the dental pick. She had no intention to actually let that woman near her face. One so-called accident might send a metal rod into her brain. People could be lobotomized through the eyeball.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked. Fabi jumped and spun around. She hadn’t heard the door open.
“I’m a restless person,” Fabiana explained. “Just thought I’d stretch my legs before I sat down for an hour.”
“No. I mean what are you doing here?” Laura shook her head and smiled. It was a faintly exasperated smile, the kind of expression Fabi made when her skinny old cat snuck into the bathroom and ripped up the toilet paper roll like a playful but oh-so-naughty kitten. “I have a cavity.”
“Then sit.” She grabbed the skeleton’s hand and lifted it until Mr. Funny Bones was pointing to the big chair.
“Uh, well, I’m nervous. Can I ask you some questions …”
“You have three choices. One: I check your teeth, and we pretend that this is a legitimate appointment. Two: ask me whatever silly bean questions you desire, and I bill you for the wasted time. Please keep in mind that this option isn’t cheap, because I do not accept your dental insurance. Three: Richard, the boys, and I are having meatloaf tonight. We’d love to entertain a curious dinner guest!”
“Two. I choose two.”
“Aw.” Laura dropped the skeleton’s hand. “You don’t like meatloaf?”
Fabiana shook her head. In fact, she legitimately disliked meatloaf, but had eaten worse meals for the benefit of company. Fabi just didn’t want to climb the obvious wall between Richard’s work and private lives. Plus, Laura probably added texture and calcium to her dinners with ground teeth. Weirdo. “Thanks for the offer, though. That was really nice.”
Laura lounged on the examination chair, hands clasped in her lap, and looked at Fabi with bright-eyed expectation. “I’m glad you came, actually. I have information that may help your investigation.”
“Like what?” After a moment’s consideration, Fabi sat on the metal fold-up chair that was usually reserved for parents who remained in the examination room to supervise their children.
“No, no! Not yet. Ask your questions first. That’s how this works.”
“Okay. Where…” Something glinted prettily on Laura’s wrist. “… where did you find that silver watch?”
“It was a gift.”
Fabi crossed her arms, but it was not a good time to fight. Information first. Then, she’d reclaim her property. “It’s very nice. Solid silver, I bet. Little roses etched around the face? Yes? Of course there are. Well, moving on. Question numero uno. Where were you on the morning of September fourteenth?”
“If that’s a weekday, I was here, wrist deep in somebody’s mouth. Hehe. Most people have to work from nine until five, after all.”
“Most people? Hold on.” She crossed her arms more tightly. “Has Richard been gossiping? I’m not lazy.”
“No, you hold on,” Laura said. She leaned forward like an eager confidante. “It’s not what you think. Richard believes that your early papers are brilliant. The implications may be disturbing, perhaps, but they’re still products of a fantastic mind. But you haven’t published anything lately.”
“That’s because I don’t need to. If your husband ever…”
“He’s not my husband.”
“If Richard ever bothered to chat about my projects, he’d learn that make interesting discoveries every month.”
“How wonderful! But unless you’re willing to share your work with the world, it’s meaningless. And that’s just bad science. I’m sorry. Tough love.”
“I get paid. When did this become your interrogation, anyway? No, no. It’s mine.” She considered her approach. Fabi hadn’t planned further than ‘show up at the dentist office and confront Laura,’ which, in retrospect, had been a mistake. “Do … do you own a gun?”
Laura’s constant smile fell. On her, the blank expression seemed doleful. “Oh, it’s the St. Rose incident? That’s why you’re reluctant to share these remarkable discoveries?”
“You! You!” She raised a finger – it was her pointer finger, though she initially had another in mind – and wagged it unhappily. “Of course you’d mention the clinic. Armchair psychiatrist. I don’t blame myself for those deaths. Everybody expects that I’m wracked with guilt, but they’re wrong. Is the person who invented gunpowder culpable for every canon-related homicide? No. But he does get credit for fireworks. Lucky bastard. Everybody holds scientists to higher standards. You people impede the pursuit of knowledge! Now, please quit changing the subject. Seriously. Did you shoot at me?”
“Wowie. That was a beautiful rant, Sweetheart! But to answer your question: a million times no.” She hopped from the chair and put a gentle hand on Fabi’s arm. “I’m sorry. It was not my intention to upset you.”
“Yeesh. I’m not upset.” Fabi swatted the offensive hand away and stood. “Stop apologizing for stuff. Are you sure you didn’t shoot at me?”
“Certain! So, this was your big plan? Pay through the nose to ask me, ‘Are you a murderer?’ Oh, dear, it’s … not a very good plan. Even if I had been the gunman, why would I confess?”
Fabi almost protested. No, it wasn’t her plan. She didn’t have a plan. In a vague way, she’d expected to intimidate the woman at work and perhaps trick her into confessing with clever mind games, but everything fell apart from the get-go, and now she felt like a jackass.
“Plus,” Laura persisted, “Richard says the bullet missed you.”
“It did. But something cut my arm immediately after the shot. I needed stitches. That wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Something? Something? Isn’t that a more interesting question? You waste energy wondering: who? I’d be wondering: how? Lacerations don’t appear from nowhere.”
The woman did have a point. “Maybe. It’s baffling. I don’t have any theories.”
“So you prefer to point fingers at innocent dentists? Oh, no. A smudge.” She licked her fingertip and rubbed watch.
“Ew! Stop! Okay, enough. Give that to me, and I’ll leave.”
“Why would I give you my watch?”
“Because it’s mine! I dropped it at your cult farm! Here, I’ll prove it.” Fabi lunged for Laura’s wrist, but escaping bites and thrashing children must have polished her reflexes. Well, either that, or she was an expert martial artist. She easily dodged. The smile reappeared as a Cheshire grin, somehow both lovely (what gloriously white teeth!) and frightening.
“How exciting!” Laura said. “Are you going to fight me?” She hopped over the examination chair like a pantsuit-wearing gymnast and grabbed a hooked pick from the instrument tray. “What about now? Watch out!” Laughing gleefully, the clearly unhinged person made a quick swiping motion. “I dare you to try that again. Nobody steals from this woman!”
As if drawn by the commotion, the severe tooth nurse peeked into the room. She absorbed the scene, made a displeased “tsk” sound, and left.
“Wait! Come back!” Fabi said. “God. This place. Is there something in the water? I’m not a thief!” She searched the room for a suitable weapon, but the pointy metal things were all on Laura’s side. Fabi’s only ally was a creepy skeleton that might or might not be fake. Actually, from her close and personal vantage point, Mr. Happy Bones definitely looked real. Egads. On the bright side, that meant he was valuable.
“Give me the watch, or your skeleton gets it,” Fabi threatened, and she held a closed fist near the skull.
“No!” Laura dropped her pick onto the tray and raised her hands slowly. “Please don’t. He’s one-of-a-kind. If you damage my baby, I’ll triple your bill! Please, won’t you think of the children? What will they do without him? Calm down. My dad gave this watch to me weeks ago.”
“That’s because I dropped it on the farm in September.” She lowered her fist a few inches. “It’s one-of-a-kind, too. The latch happens to be loose.”
“Loose?” She sighed and pouted. “So it was. I actually repaired that.” With a small shrug, Laura slipped it from her wrist. The bright metal, recently polished (by honest-to-gosh metal polish, not spit), glinted in the intense overhead light. “Here you go.”
“Um. Really? I can have it back? Just like that?”
“I’m not a bad person,” she said. “And you clearly don’t enjoy the sport of battle. Consider this an offer of friendship? To be perfectly candid, it hurts my feelings when you blame me for the gun incident. We barely know each other.”
“Maybe. But you sure know a lot about me.” Fabi took the watch. For a moment, she noticed Laura’s arm tense and expected her to attack in a no doubt devious manner. However, she only released the silver band and lowered her hand.
“All good things. I really admire you. The St. Rose terrorist perverted beautiful work.”
“You just say that because you have a disturbing hard-on for plagues.” Fabi wished that Laura would change the subject.
“A hard-on for … how crude! Not at all. Anyway, my passion is plaque, not plagues. Like I said in the ice cream parlor, I am a member of Greenwood Church for the company and fringe benefits, but that’s all. Their prophecies are like fairytales. Fun to read, excellent for scaring youngsters, but ultimately based on rubbish. Won’t you be my friend? I’m really delightful, once you get to know me. Oh, sure, nobody likes a dentist. We make your gums bleed and drill holes in your mouth. I understand. They say that lawyers have the most reviled profession, but that isn’t true. Dentist. Dentist, dentist, dentist. We are professional pain makers. Well, I may be a dentist, but I’m not your dentist. Actually, after the scene you caused, this is the last time you’ll ever visit my inner sanctum. Terribly sorry. But I do want to help. Fabiana. I know a clue.” “A clue? You know who shot at me?”
“No. However, according to the anesthesia grapevine, your suspect lives in a red house.”
“Anesthesia? You do surgery here? I thought that kind of work required, like, specialists and an actual doctor’s office …”
“Meanie. I give you a lovely clue, and you insult my practice!”
Maybe, Fabi was being unfair. Despite her tendency to go on dark tangents and act like a campy villain from a comic book, Laura had been ultimately harmless and accommodating. She even returned the watch.
“I’m sorry,” Fabiana said. “It’s the coolest dentist office I’ve visited. Better art than most, too. Your kids are gifted and talented. So, one of your patients knows who shot at me, and he claims that the guy lives in a red house?”
“More or less. It’s a red house in the village. Sadly, I can’t reveal my source’s name. Doctor patient trust issues, understand? But he’s confident in the information, and I have every reason to believe him.”
Fabi sat again and tried to visualize the houses she passed on her way to work. None were red. It must be off the main road, like most village homes. “Will he do something about it?” she asked.
“I expect he will.” Laura knelt beside her. She lowered her voice, ever the conspirator. “If he doesn’t, I will. We’re friends now, right?”
“The jury’s still out, but I probably like you.” She definitely didn’t want to make an enemy like Laura.
“Good! Still no meatloaf, then?”
“Ha, yes. But I’ll take a rain check. Oh, and since I’m paying for the next…” Fabi glanced at her wrist, which once again donned a silver watch. “… thirty minutes or so, what’s going on between you and Richard?”
“It’s all quite typical. We met, fell in love, and started a rose-colored life together. Two children, a house, and a golden retriever. Isn’t that nice?”
“But no marriage?”
“I don’t believe in the monogamous holy union farce, and neither does he. What about you? Thirty years old and still alone?”
“I have goldfish.” The next thing she said was a mistake. Fabi normally didn’t talk about too-personal things with anybody, but Laura had been using a confidante’s tone. It was extremely disarming. “Actually, my last fling ended after the clinic attack. I was unbearably miserable. It killed any future we had together.”
Laura turned the skeleton around until it faced the corner. Then, she knelt directly in front of the chair and propped her arms on top of Fabi’s legs. Even for brand new best friends, the movement was remarkably intrusive. What exactly was happening? Could this be a come-on? Fabi was ninety-nine percent certain that she did not want to have a salacious affair with Richard’s not -wife in a dentist office, of all places. However, the other one percent was intrigued, much like a moth drawn to a bright electric bug zapper.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said. “Twenty-somethings aren’t looking for permanence. Anyway, she never appreciated you.”
“That isn’t true. Hey, wait. She? How did you know?” Did she steal diaries, as well as watches? Luckily, Fabiana never kept a diary. “Are you a mind reader?”
“It doesn’t matter! So what if you were in a terrible mood. That’s only natural, considering. A real friend weathers the bad and good. You were unbearable just ten minutes ago, right? Threatening innocent skeletons! Shouting! Boorish! But look at us now. We’re chatting like old buddies.”
“Yeah. Buddies. Friends.”
“Fantastic. Hey, I’ve always wondered: were you ever tempted to change your name and start over completely? New life, like a phoenix?”
Amidst the media circus following the incident, Fabi indeed considered changing her surname to Smith, but the process was too difficult. She had to construct a petition, attend a legal hearing, and jump through a dozen other hoops. What a goddamn hassle. So she put it off, year after year, until her identity didn’t matter anymore. Luckily, people had short memories. Her fifteen minutes of notoriety were exactly that: brief. “Not really. That’s something you’ve ‘always wondered?’ Why?”
“Can I be honest?”
“I’d prefer if you were. You've been honest so far, right? Right?”
“The Greenwood Church believed that the St. Rose Clinic disaster was a sign of greater plagues. An omen of the Apocalypse, if you will. According to our holy text, momentous events cause ripples in fate, and the observant man can interpret them to foresee pinnacles of bliss and misfortune.”
“We believe? Our holy text? I thought you don’t actually buy into stuff like prophesies and apocalypse omens.” She pushed Laura’s elbows off her legs. For once, Fabi thought like a calm, rational survivalist! The attention was flattering, in a creepy way, but dangerous. Laura was still sorta, kinda, maybe a murder suspect. Friendly words could not sway the calm, rational survivalist because the calm, rational survivalist understood that humans were duplicitous creatures with silver tongues.
“Of course I don’t. It’s bullshit, Sweetheart.” Laura propped her elbows on the armrests instead. “Anyway, that’s how I know so much about you. My community of weirdos was obsessed. Isn’t it curious that you now work among us? In fact, I wonder….”
“You’re making me paranoid.” At times, Fabiana also wondered why Dr. Becker contacted her, seemingly out of the blue. She thought the clinic incident was a scarlet letter emblazoned on her resume. But he’d been eager to employ her. Too eager, perhaps. “I wonder if the doctor …”
“I don’t enjoy this conversation anymore, do you? Let’s resume a nicer subject. Appreciation!” Laura leaned forward gracefully. She smelled like mint– perhaps dentists rubbed toothpaste on their necks instead of perfume. “The church is so wrong. You aren’t Lilith. I think you ride the pale horse.”
Fabi did not know much about biblical mythology or biblical anything, really, but she knew who rode the pale horse. Repulsed, she shoved Laura. The woman rolled back, oddly acrobatic, and stood. Suspicions of martial arts skills suddenly didn't seem farfetched.
“Can’t friends joke around?” she asked.
“Disgusting. I don’t kill anything.” She did eat meat, but that was already dead. “Ew. I can’t believe you’d say something so tasteless during a dental appointment.”
“I’m sorry. Can we start over?”
“No. You and me are a bad idea. Enjoy your meatloaf.” She stormed dramatically to the door. At its threshold, Fabi added, “By the way, I lied about everything on my record forms. So suck it.”
“Well, thanks for being honest. Drive safely. I’ll see you later, Sweetheart.”
From the hall, she shouted, “No, you won’t!”
In all likelihood, they’d probably meet again. It was a small town, and even Richard’s best attempts to keep his family away from work sometimes failed. At least Fabi could cross Laura off the suspect list. Those hadn’t been the actions of a woman who wanted her dead. Unless she’d planned to distract Fabi and stab her in the jugular with a hooked pick. Maybe, that’s how the disturbing Mr. Happy Bones was born: cold-blooded murder!
As she reclaimed a state of do-not-care zen, Fabi drove up and down narrow residential streets. She passed six red houses, all brick. Which could be the one?
*** Rin had to put his investigation on hold during exam week, but once he (narrowly) passed calculus, the hunt for Felix became priority numero uno. Rin had lived in the village for twenty-one years and could identify every house within a five mile radius. Most of the local places belonged to die hard residents, like his family, but the brick building at the terminus of dead end Long Street was a rental. People filtered in and out every few years, and certain knowledgeable sources confirmed that a highschooler named Felix lived there with his mother and grandparents.
Rin and Mags jogged up Long Street together. It was late afternoon, and a thick blanket of gloomy gray clouds radiated the weak December sunlight. Long Street lived up to its name; it dove a quarter mile into the forest, and only a few driveways interrupted the tedious path.
“This may be the creepiest house in the village,” Mags said. “I’m totally honest. It’s so isolated, we could scream until we’re hoarse and only the deer would hear.”
“That’s not true. Felix would hear us as he cuts out our tongues.” Rin made stabbing motions in the air.
“You’re an asshole.”
A wire fence surrounded the brick house, whose windows were shuttered. Ivy crept up the building, and a single truck was parked in the narrow dirt driveway.
“Let’s sneak around back,” Rin suggested. “We should climb a tree and act like peeping toms. All the cool kids are doing it.”
The back yard was an acre of yellow-green grass, littered by pieces of rubbish like empty inflatable pools, half-dismantled motorcycles, and plastic bins filled with who knew what horrors. There were two wooden sheds near the back, each padlocked shut. As they peeked through the fence, Rin and Mags also noticed a makeshift cardboard bull’s-eye hanging from a hooked pole.
“I don’t think anyone is home,” Mags said. “I’m glad there isn’t a dog running around. We’d have to rescue it.”
“Do you see any signs of bad behavior?”
“Nah. It’s messy, but no worse than my family’s place.”
“Maybe those bins …”
They exchanged glances and shrugs. Then, Mags helped Rin climb over the five-foot-high fence. It was easy to scale, since the wire rings provided finger holds. He landed heavily on the other side, heart racing with a cocktail of fear, defiance, and excitement. A moment later, his friend joined him.
Quickly, they split up and each looked into a separate bin. Rin’s choice contained aluminum cans, mostly beer and orange soda. Mags found plastic one-liter bottles in hers. “Recycling,” she said.
“You won’t stop recycling now, will you?” She’d given away her Artemis Corpse books, because they reminded her of dead animals. Real dead animals, not just the army of skeletal deer featured in the comics.
“Shh.” She pointed at the third and final bin, which was propped against the house. Together, they crept close and peered inside. Paper. Newspaper. More evidence of considerate waste management.
Then, Rin caught a whiff of something metallic. It was similar to the blood scent his father carried home after deer hunts. “Where’s that coming from?” he asked.
“What?”
“You smell blood?” He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Something else, too. It’s like raw meat and waste.”
“No. But I’m getting over a cold. So my nose is not working right now. Maybe they compost steak.”
“I don’t think so.”
Rin approached the back entrance, a screened door closed in front of a wooden door, and the smell became stronger and vaguely more foul. “Aw, hell. Get your phone out.” He tested the doors and found each unlocked.
Directly beyond, a woman’s body lay face-up on the linoleum floor. Her head was cradled by a massive puddle of blood that had spilled from a cut jugular vein. The moment his brain processed the sight, Rin stumbled back outside. He felt a wave of vertigo and swayed, but Mags steadied him.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Run. Run, go.”
Hand in hand, they sprinted across the yard. To Rin, it was a painfully slow escape; the distance between the house and fence seemed longer than Long Street itself.
Once they scaled the fence, he dragged Mags into the forest. They ran until they couldn’t see the damned property anymore, and then they ran some more. “Call help,” he finally panted. “Nine one one. Tell them … I don’t know. I don’t know. A dead person. Don’t mention our names!” He looked at his hands. Gloves. No fingerprints.
“What?” She sounded calm, but her eyes were round. They resembled a pair of NGC 2392 nebulae served on white dishes.
“I saw a dead woman, okay?”
“Fuck, man. We have to go back! Are you sure she was actually …”
“We aren’t going back!” He was shouting now, his voice shrill. A startled bird fled the branch overhead. “Sorry. Mags, please. I’m sure. This isn’t our fight anymore.”
Without a word, she and punched the numbers into her phone. As Mags called emergency services, Rin paced and jumped at every sound. Though he only caught a brief glimpse of body, blood, and crime scene, the injury – a surgically precise gash across her neck – was undeniable evidence of murder.
Were there other bodies in the house? What about Felix? Maybe he fled after the incident.
Something didn’t seem right, though. The boy’s modus operandi was violent. Would he really attack somebody with a single cut across the neck?
“They’re coming,” Mags said. She put a hand on Rin’s arm and squeezed it. “Don’t be mad, but I shared our names. It’s the right thing to do. Okay? So, here’s the story. We chased a black cat into the yard …”
Rin nodded, lost in thought. There was clearly something more dangerous than a wicked teenager in his village, but he couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
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Post by DKender on Nov 30, 2013 22:28:37 GMT -8
Chapter Eight – That’s A Convenient Story, Dr. BeckerWhen Karishma arrived at work on the morning of December twenty-first, she found the Penny lab door ajar. “Hello? Who’s in there?” The facility once employed university custodial staff. Every Friday, they’d sweep or wax the floors, take out garbage, and stock the unisex bathroom with toiletries. However, during the great rat escape of 2031, Dr. Becker blamed the staff for “tampering with my building and ruining years of research” and requested their permanent dismissals, though he never produced a shred of damning evidence. Unfortunately, he carried enough weight to get his way; the lab was never cleaned by an outsider again. All things considered, Karishma suspected that Dr. Becker could murder his interns on a sacrificial altar to science and still bask in the university’s favor. Cautious, though emboldened by the bright morning, she peeked into Penny’s lab. Rin sat on the floor near the cage. He held Penny against his chest and delicately pet her head with his fingertip. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “The semester finished. Aren’t you wasting vacation time right now?” Karishma sat beside him and helped bombard Penny with affection. She scratched the rat’s back and poked her little black spot. “Yeah, but vacation to me is three weeks of alone time with Mom and Dad. All my friends are gone right now. Plus, we’re doing the gift thing today.” He seemed unusually blasé that morning, and there were dark shadows around his eyes, though Karishma was unsure whether they were a subtle form of applied corpse paint or genuine signs of exhaustion. “That’s right. Dr. Becker will be here shortly. He never misses a Secret Santa.” “He will? Huh. Actually, I better leave. Here’s your present, by the way.” He took a faux leather jacket from his backpack and offered it to Karishma. “It’s for the motorcycle.” “My … oh, you mean my scooter?” She turned the jacket over in her hands. Its shoulders were decorated with pointy metal studs. “Why, Rin. This is very thoughtful. Thank you.” “You’re welcome. But it’s fine to exchange the jacket for something nicer. I planned to buy Penny toys, but my friends all said, ‘Get her the jacket, or we’ll never speak to you again. Oh my gaaawd, it’s perfect.’ That’s exactly what they sound like, by the way. Then, Renie claimed that leather is aerodynamic, and that’s why bikers wear the stuff, but she makes shi … junk up all the time. Like, pathologically.” “Renie?” “Yeah, she’s my buddy. We met in Dr. Fuller’s bison conservation class. By the way, did you get a weird email yesterday?” “Weird email? Like spam? Um, no.” Karishma shook her head and tried the jacket. It had a loose fit. Perfect! “Actually, it came from Dr. Becker. Speaking of, I really gotta leave now. Later! You look badass.” He put the rat in her cage and hightailed away. “I think he’s the pathological liar,” she whispered. “Or do I really look badass?” She and Penny stared at each other quietly, and then she laughed. Karishma doubted she could pull off badass with a chainsaw, grenade launcher, and skull-shaped eye patch. Silly, maybe. Awkward, certainly. But not badass. Soon, the others arrived. Hinderman wore a floppy green knitted hat and plastic Vulcan ears. It was the only day of the year when he pretended that they were elf ears. He put a gift wrapped in gold paper on the meeting room floor, beneath a potted laurentii, and sat with his feet propped on the table. “You aren’t supposed to do that when everyone is looking,” Richard said, pointing at the gift. “Secrecy is the point of this event.” He leaned over and checked the present label. “Damn it, Hinderman. Again? How do you manage?” “What? Is that pretty gold one for me?” he asked. “What a surprise!” He ripped the present open with relish. “Wow! Just what I wanted! A miniature A4 Mothership! My Secret Santa is the best!” “Cute. Everyone else, try to be more discreet. Dr. Becker will join us in less than an hour. I’ve made cookies you can eat, in the meantime. Don’t open any more presents.” “Really sorry, but I already opened mine, too.” Karisma pointed to her studded jacket, and Richard’s eyes widened. It was his intensely anxious expression. “I’m sorry!” she repeated. “Rin didn’t even wrap mine.” “That’s not it. I drew your name. There must be a mistake. Did he leave another present?” She shook her head. “No.” “Fabi, whose name did you receive?” “R-I-C-H-A-R-D,” she spelled. “Way to ruin the surprise.” “And Karishma?” “Fabiana,” Karishma said. She took a small green bag from her purse and handed it to Fabi. “And I checked. Dr. Becker received Rin’s name.” “God damn!” Fabi said. “Does that mean Rin had Becker? And he forgot? Guys. Guys. This is ten million times worse than a wind chime. He might snap. I mean full on adult tantrum. We probably won’t leave the building alive.” “What did you buy me?” Richard asked. “Maybe we can just put his name on the card instead.” “Hah. Tea and biscuits for Dr. Becker? He calls tea plant piss.” “And I’m not giving him my mothership! No way, no how.” Hinderman cradled it delicately in his arms. “I bought Fabi a scarf,” Karishma said. “But it’s covered in flowers.” Somberly, Hinderman helped himself to a cookie. He couldn’t think on an empty stomach. “What if I we wrapped up something from my cabinet? There’s a lot of junk hidden in the back with my old articles.” “Genius,” Fabi said. “You guys look for a present, and I’ll cause a distraction.” “No distraction.” Richard now directed his wide-eyed ire at Fabiana. “We don’t need one. Keep it simple.” She shrugged, and the menagerie moved to Hinderman’s office. He took several boxes from the deep cabinet. They were filled with a random assortment of knick-knacks: clothing, flash drives, cameras, mugs, office supplies, bags, costume jewelry. “I buy stuff during the university lost and found sale every year,” he explained. “They sold a laptop once. It was brand new. Students, am I right? They’d lose their heads if that was possible.” Karishma started digging through a box, and then she gasped and drew her hand back slowly. “There’s rat droppings in this, Hinderman!” “Must be from years ago,” he said. “What’s the big deal? You clean Penny’s cage.” “Penny is disease-free,” she explained. Fabi held up a wind chime. “I dare somebody to give him this.” She flicked one of the metal tubes with her finger and listened to it cling. “Hear that bell? It’s like fairy music. Dr. Becker must have no soul.” “This is junk,” Richard said. “We need something … oh! Like that!” He pointed to Hinderman’s wall. Behind his desk hung an electronic international clock. A long wooden board decorated by several circular faces, it displayed the time, weather, and currency exchange rates of ten major cities. “No way,” Hinderman protested. “My nephew bought that for me. It’s the nicest thing I own!” “I’ll get you two new ones. By gosh, they’ll even show the time and date on planet Klingon. Please?” As Richard spoke, he unhooked the clock from its perch on the wall and shone the clock faces with his sleeve. “Klingons come from the M-class planet Qo’noS,” Hinderman said, “and I’d actually really like one of those, so if you can make it happen, it’s all good.” One frantic wrapping session later, they put Dr. Becker’s present on the meeting table and polished off the cookies. “The intern is such an eff-up,” Fabi commented. She was careful to throw away the uneaten half of her cookie when Richard turned his back. “I don’t think so,” Karishma said. “He …” The door opened smoothly, and Dr. Becker chucked a copy of the daily newspaper at Karishma, who barely managed to catch it without dropping her cookie. “Tis the season for miracles!” he exclaimed. “Read that out loud, Suvakumar. This is fabulous.” She skimmed the front page. The headline read: Two confirmed dead in murder-suicide. Surely, that wasn’t the article that put Dr. Becker in such a cheery mood. She looked at him with uncertainty, and he made an impatient “tsk” sound and snatched the paper from her hands. “It’s the Felix boy. He killed his grandmother, God rest her soul, and then did us all a favor and …” He ran a finger across his neck. “My friend from the police department thinks Felix jumped into the river.” “No!” Karishma gasped with shock. “That’s horrible.” “I’d normally agree,” he said. “But this young man tortured sweet animals and tried to kill two incredible people.” He stepped between Fabi and Hinderman, who both seemed hopelessly confused, and put his hands on their shoulders. “It’s karma. Now, do you believe in fate?” “No,” Karishma said. “His poor grandmother. A miracle would be … he … he saw the error of his ways. This is just sad.” “What’s happening?” Fabi asked. She glanced at the water pitcher next to the sugar-dusted cookies. It hadn’t tasted like a spiked drink, but one never knew. “Does anybody here read the newspaper?” Dr. Becker asked. “Or watch the local news? Or talk to anybody outside this lab?” All but Richard shook their heads. “I like the Sunday comics,” Hinderman said. “But news? Too depressing.” “There was a violent homicide in the village,” Richard explained. “But it happened so recently, very few details have been released. Ah, disturbing. You hear about homicides and other gruesome crimes that affect people living in cities, but this is our little home.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “Now, I lock my front door at night. Laura and I also installed bars over the window in Casey and Ronnie’s bedroom. The kids are so brave. Yesterday, they …” “It’s a freak incident,” Dr. Becker explained. “One bad apple tumbled our way. Thanks a lot, Johnny Appleseed. Sadly, no place conquered by man can escape the world’s evils. Isn’t that right?” “Sure,” Hinderman agreed. “That’s why I’m not eager to terraform Mars or spread our dysfunctions to galaxies far, far away.” “Hey. Aliens are probably evil, too,” Fabi said. “I bet they’re worse than humans.” “Don’t be xenophobic.” “I’m not finished,” Dr. Becker interrupted. “It gets better! The boy wrote a confession before he died. It’s all in writing: he shot at the lab and preyed on woodland creatures. The first was a crime of opportunity. A drunk hunter left his gun unattended, and Felix stole it for the fun.” “Drunk hunter!” Richard said. “I was half right!” “And half wrong,” Fabi muttered. “But this is just … why the heck would he put all that in a suicide letter?” “I’ve never understood my fellow man,” Dr. Becker confessed, with a helpless shrug. “Why do they do what they do? But now I’ll sleep easier knowing you four are safe. Let’s take this opportunity to start fresh and continue our work as if nothing interrupted it. The fence will be raised before next semester.” He rubbed his hands eagerly. “Presents now?” “I’m late for my … the thing,” Karishma said. “Excuse me.” She ignored Dr. Becker’s disappointed frown, grabbed the present from her Secret Santa (who wasn’t actually secret anymore), and left. “What a killjoy,” the doctor said. “Okay, presents now.” “I gotta do my the thing, too!” Fabi stood and followed Karishma in a hurry, though she grabbed her gift on the way out. “Plural killjoys? Women. Presents!” “Oh, the thing! I forgot all about the thing,” Hinderman said. “It’s also my thing.” As he left, Richard tried to use adamant hand gestures to convey his extreme annoyance, but Hinderman didn’t even notice. “They’re just upset,” Dr. Becker said. He unwrapped the clock. “Thank god this isn’t a wind chime.” “That reference never gets old, Sir.” “How’s Laura doing?” Richard adjusted the silver cufflinks on his sleeves. They were shaped like sparrows. “She’s taken up knitting. Did that Felix kid live in a red house, by any chance?” “I don’t know. Does it matter?” “Maybe.” He watered the potted laurentii with the pitcher and patted one of its bright green leaves. “Qo’noS. Hm. Who’d’ve thought?” *** Fabi found Karishma in the parking lot; the junior scientist carried Penny in a secure little travelling box. It was still warm enough that the rat could be outside comfortably. “Where are you two going?” Fabi asked her. “Can we chat first?” “Penny and I are taking a surprise vacation,” Karishma said. “There isn’t time for talking right now.” “Please don’t. Penny isn’t wearing a helmet.” “I’ll drive very slowly.” “What’s wrong?” She stood between Karishma and the scooter. “I like your jacket, by the way. So cool.” “Thanks. I like it, too.” She kicked a pebble across the pavement. “Everything is wrong. I just don’t know why.” “Oh? It is?” “Yes.” She hugged the box and stroked its plastic, hole-speckled lid. “I should feel relieved that the person who hurt our little forest friends is gone. His death was horrible, but at least there will be no more suffering. Yet no relief comes.” “Because something about the situation bothers you. Right?” “That’s right. How did you know?” “It bothers me, too. See, I had an epiphany.” Karishma raised an eyebrow. “Epiphany about what? You’ve been sick with the flu lately, right?” “Hah. Well. An epiphany about the incident in September and the forces that brought us together. Let’s have ice cream, and I’ll tell you about my grand experience. The tides are turning, Karishma. The tides are turning!” “Um.” She pet the box once more. “Okay. I may still go on vacation today, though.” “Ice cream? Chocolate caramel ice cream?” Hinderman joined the killjoy women near Karishma’s scooter. “Can I carpool with you, Fabi?” *** Rin stared at his computer screen and read the email for the fifth time that morning. Subject: Re: I quit Dear Rin, No, you don’t. Just keep trucking! Cheers, Becker He’d emailed Dr. Becker earlier to request a permanent dismissal from the unpaid internship. It was a waste – the lab didn’t fuck around with animals anymore. They just inflicted mad science on plants and bacteria. Rin couldn’t object to the unethical treatment of plants, since he masticated them ruthlessly during every meal. There were other issues, obviously – some of his friends were hardcore opponents of floral GMOs. But he couldn’t do everything all the time. Animals were Rin’s schtick. From beyond the locked bedroom door, his mother shouted, “Honey, are you ready?” “Just a minute!” He turned off the computer and watched dust motes whirl between his eyes and the black screen. They resembled gnats drifting in space. There was no shortage of motes in his bedroom, because he lived in the attic, a dim, often drafty place with a sloping roof and single arched window. Its frosted glass was cut into elegant circles, rectangles, and diamonds in the Victorian stained glass fashion. Rin stood and trudged to his narrow mirror. Today, he wore a white sweater and simple bright blue jeans. It was time for the annual family portrait. Self-expression be damned. His parents would plead, plead, and plead until he removed his piercings and wore their color-coordinated wooly uniform. He stuck out his tongue and grinned at the silver stud. Rebel! His mom had already put a red and white jingle bell collar on the cat when Rin joined them downstairs. Tabby Cat was a sedate fluffball with a gray face and off-white body. In other words, she wasn’t really a tabby, but Rin hadn’t understood the term when he knighted her in preschool. The living room was something from a “Better Homes and Living” Christmas edition. Behold: a mantle decked in gold ribbons and bows! Small wreathes and paper mache doves hanging from every doorway! Pumpkin-scented candles on the coffee table, beside a jar of shelled nuts and functional steel nutcracker! Now, Tabby and her festive collar was another piece of the room. “You sorry old thing,” he muttered. “It’ll be over soon.” Tabby flicked her tail and regarded him with trusting yellow eyes. She reclined on her bed near the glitzy Christmas tree, and occasionally pawed at a stray piece of tinsel hanging from the low branches. “Honey, you got a package from Secret Santa,” his mom shouted. “I put the box under our tree. Maybe it’s from your girlfriends!” She was in the kitchen, artfully trimming a pie crust. His parents owned a restaurant, but they cooked everything the family ate at home. “Thanks!” he shouted back. “And they’re all just friend friends!” Rin scanned the modest hill of presents. Most were wrapped in green and red paper, but one – a flat cardboard box that was large enough to hold a pair of socks but nothing bigger – was so bland, it stuck out like a sore thumb. He picked it up and turned the box over. “FROM SECRET SANTA” had been written on one face with a thick black marker, but there was no return address or postage. It must have been delivered to his doorstep by hand. “Huh,” he said. “It’s probably from work.” Rin tore the package open with a pair of scissors and his teeth. There was something flat inside. It had to be the patch, cut from the backpack. Felix was probably wearing it when they found his body. He turned the box over, and a plastic card fell out. Not the patch. Could this be a membership card to Graphic Escape, stolen from his wallet as he bloated … It was a twenty-five dollar gift card to the steakhouse in town. “Aw, you fucker,” Rin said. “Who is?” his mom asked. She plucked the gift card from his fingers, saw the name “Bobby’s Steakhouse” printed across one side, and shook her head sympathetically. “Is this a gift exchange from school? Maybe he doesn’t realize you’re a vegetarian. It’s still awfully tacky.” “Nah, Mom, he knows. This gotta be a message. It’s an ‘I know and now you know that I know’ kind of thing.” “Really?” She tucked the card in her apron pocket. “Rin, do the kids bully you at school?” “No way. And what kids? I’m twenty-one.“ He snorted and tried to convey indignation through subtle body language, such as upturned eyes and a slight shake of his head. “Grown-ups can be bullies. Actually, experience worsens the problem, because we learn how to cut deep in the most hurtful places.” She made a stabbing motion with her butter knife. Flecks of flour and pie crust were thrown from its lightly serrated blade; Tabby stood languidly, considered the largest piece of dough, and then decided that he couldn’t be bothered and slumped back on his bed. “I wish you’d been there with me,” Rin said. “One knife wound looks like the other, ya know? Dad probably could have figured what ” His parents caught and prepared their own meat. “I wish I’d been there, too. Rin, you make us so worried.” She hugged him firmly and kissed his cheek. “Sorry, Mom. Sometimes, you gotta do risky things to make the world better.” He looked down at his clothes. “Hey, look. You got flower on me. Maybe I should change into something …” “Not on your life!” She brushed his sweater with a feather duster. “Good as new! Now, find your dad. I’m almost ready.” “Okay.” Then, Rin shrugged at Tabby Cat. It had been worth a shot.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Nov 30, 2013 22:30:09 GMT -8
Chapter Nine – Superheroes “First things first,” Fabi said. “My epiphany.”
Actually, she should have said “second things second,” because everyone had already ordered their bowls of ice cream. Praline pecan for Karishma, strawberry for Fabi, and coffee chocolate caramel swirl for Hinderman, who ate his in a waffle bowl. Penny was apparently lactose intolerant, which seemed like a cruel fate for a rat (considering their reputation as cheese lovers), but she seemed content to doze in her travel box.
“Okay, so this begins in the city.”
“What city?” Hinderman asked.
“Chicago.”
“I’m not following you.”
“My last dentist appointment really hurt, so I decided to cruise around the village until the pain went away.”
“Fillings shouldn’t be that bad,” Karishma said. “Maybe something went wrong and, um, the tooth was cracked?”
“Something went wrong, all right. But driving helps. At least, it used to. But this time was different. I drove the lonely forest roads, from Brooding Valley to Abbigail Lane, until the only path left was a straight route home, where Goldie waits. She’s one helluva roommate, that Goldie.”
“It’s her fish,” Hinderman explained, because Karishma seemed confused.
“Indeed,” Fabi said. “And once she’d been fed shrimpy flakes, I looked out the window and realized that the trees surrounding my house are like expanding links in a living wall. This village is a prison. And we? We are willing inmates! Wait, before I continue, did I tell you guys that Richard’s Laura made a pass at me?”
Hinderman made a face and rubbed his neck. The change in conversation topics had given him spiritual whiplash. “What?”
“Her elbows were all over my legs.”
“You put your elbow on my shoulder yesterday,” Karishma said. “Like I’m some kind of elbow rest. Wait. Does that mean …”
“No, no, no! Me and you? Friend touch. See?” She dropped a hand on Hinderman’s shoulder. “There is obviously nothing romantic about this. Like, never.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Back at you. Never in the multiverses.”
“So, you disappeared for one week because Laura put her elbows on your leg?” Karishma asked, because she hoped the diversion had some relevance to Fabi’s story.
“No, I disappeared because my tooth hurt, and the trees were links in a wall. A living, growing, looming, encroaching wall! Plus, I felt massively paranoid. We’re living among people who honest to their god believe that Becker’s lab will cause the apocalypse. People claim the church became weak after the millennium passed without incident and Rev. Greenwood kicked the bucket, but maybe they’re just sneakily lying in wait.
“Well, the paranoia rose to a crescendo, if you will. Suddenly, I was packing my suitcases. Actually, half my belongings are still in boxes from the move here.”
“Didn’t you come here over five years ago?” Hinderman asked.
“Man, shut your mouth! You have thirty-year-old lost and found junk in your office.”
“Point taken. Continue!”
“The boxes were a blessing, because I was ready to leave in two hours.”
“What about Goldie?” Karishma asked.
“Obviously, she came with me. I put her in a plastic tank with a lid and strapped it to my passenger seat. And then, like a rolling stone I left town. About ten minutes into the trip, I remembered that I left half the lights on in my house, but whatever. Couldn’t turn back! See, I resolved to either drive until I felt better or reached the east coast, whichever came first.”
“You were driving for a week?” Hinderman asked. “Does that count as impromptu vacation? I put ten dollars on vacation.”
“No,” Karishma said. “Vacations are leisurely. This sounds like a breakdown.”
“Ten dollars? Hold on! What’s this about?”
“Nobody believed you had the flu for one week, Fabi,” Hinderman explained. “You weren’t at home. So we made a bet.”
“Really? How did you know I’d left?” Fabi asked. “Been spying on me like those cultists?”
“ Richard tried to drop off chicken soup three times,” Karishma explained.
“Aw. That’s sweet. Well, now I feel guilty about lying. Um. Hey. Hinderman bet on vacation. What about you?”
“Mmm. I said you just didn’t feel like working and spent the week lounging around. Rin thought you committed a crime and left town. Richard wouldn’t play, but he confidentially agreed with me.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She mixed her ice cream until it became sludgy pink soup. Then, she plucked a ball-point pen from Hinderman’s shirt pocket and began doodling idle symbols on a napkin. “I was just driving the whole time. Barely stopped to rest. Drove the long way through Montana and North Dakota, angled down Minnesota and Wisconsin, and then reached Chicago. Somebody stopped me at every security check, by the way. My name must be a flag in their system. It’s the worst. And super inconvenient. I wasted at least two hours answering the same questions and waiting on the roadside like a criminal while they checked my car.”
Karishma nodded sympathetically.
“Well, by Chicago, I’d reached a point of exhaustion that was undaunted by caffeine. Coffee actually made me sleepier. I checked into a massive cheap-o hotel and paid with credit card, which was my first mistake. But at that point, my brain didn’t work sharply enough to forsee trouble.
“The room was typical hotel fare. It had a lumpy old bed and massive television. The shower pressure was lousy, but for seventy dollars a night, I couldn’t complain. After my bedtime coffee, I basically passed out on top of the comforter. “Eleven hours later, I woke up and realized that checkout time had passed. Because it’d be wasteful to pay for two days without staying the whole forty-eight hours, I decided to enjoy Chicago. By that point, the paranoid fever that drove me from home was gone. You ever do something totally irrational and passionate that seems ridiculous after a full night’s rest? Yeah. That was me.”
“I once broke off a ten year friendship because the scoundrel called me a cheater during a seriously intense Magic: The Gathering tournament,” Hinderman said. “It seemed like a major slight at the time, but after a bit, I realized he was just a competitive asshole who can’t help himself. You don’t get angry at cats when they scratch, right? It’s just part of their nature. We made nice.”
“Sure, just like that,” Fabi said, though she did not understand what a “magic gathering tournament” entailed. Plus, she totally did get angry at cats who scratched her. They were little jerks, given a free pass because they had cute faces. Obviously, Fabi never scratched back. That would be immature and unfair to the animals; they did not benefit from her superior intelligence and strength. “Um. Right. Long story short, I got over the paranoia, called work to explain that I wouldn’t be available, and went to the lobby for breakfast. Unfortunately, their complementary bagels and muffins are removed at ten AM, and it was one. Should have ordered a wake-up call. Anyway, since my tummy needed food, I went across the street for coffee at a seedy little diner. It was probably cute twenty years ago, before the retro formica tabletops were all covered by graffiti. The waitress offered me a seat at the bar, which is apparently the number one choice for lonely singles, but I noticed that the swively barstools were creaking and wobbling under the poor bastards who’d already accepted that offer. So standard booth for me!
“The best item on their menu was grilled cheese with fries. I also ordered coffee and a banana. Oddly, the banana tasted like those banana-flavored candies – not quite right, but sweet and pseudo fruity. I wonder where it came from. Anyway, halfway through the sandwich and two cups of coffee, a guy entered the diner and kinda looked my way. He wore sunglasses, but you can tell when somebody is staring. It’s like a sixth sense. Personally, my arms get goosebumpy.”
“The waitress offered this man a standard lonely hearts bar stool, but he instead wanted the booth directly behind mine. Now, he could stare at the back of my head with impunity! Well, I wasn’t gonna have that. I switched seats until we were staring at each other. Face to face. Even ground. He took off his sunglasses and did a slow nod, one of those subtle acknowledgements. And that’s when I thought, ‘This guy looks familiar.’ It wasn’t his face, though. It was the way he carried himself, his body type, and his general demeanor. The whole package, but not the face. So I wondered, ‘Why not the face? And where have I seen this guy before?’ Take a guess.”
“Could he be an actor?” Karishma asked. “They wear heavy makeup on screen, so you may not recognize his face.”
“No,” Fabi said. “What about you, Hinderman? This is right up your alley.”
He thought about it, his brow furrowed with concentration. “I don’t know. Is he a famous statistician?”
“Not even close. That guy, I swear, is Chicago’s very own vigilante. The Furious Marauder!”
“Mr. Furious Masked Marauder is an urban legend,” Karishma said.
“They all are,” Hinderman agreed. “It’s fine and nice to pretend that superheroes are helping innocent people, but consider this practically. As one million heated discussions online have confirmed, vigilantism only works in the comic books because caped heroes are overpowered and lucky. It’s fantasy.”
“Oh, really? So how do you explain the Birmingham hostage situation?” Fabi said. “Or the Northwest Southwest train incident? Or the masked guy in tights from New York City who’s been harassing traffic violators and shimmying up buildings? I totally agree that the average person isn’t powerful enough to act like a one-man police force, but maybe we’re entering the era of supermens. Technology and biological engineering have been advancing like they’re having a race. Anyway, maybe these heroes aren’t solitary forces. Could be there’s a secret organization that coordinates vigilantes. It’s a strange new era! Plus, don’t forget the eerie blue light that hovered over Roswell for two days …”
“That had to be swamp gas!” Karishma exclaimed.
“Swamp gas in the desert? Likely story. Try alien visitors.”
“And they say that I’m a dreamer,” Hinderman said. “At least I never mistake my dreams for reality. Fabi, Fabi, Fabi. I hope you let that poor man eat his lunch in peace.”
“Of course I did. You think I wanna confront a genuine masked crusader? I finished my breakfast, drank some nasty weak coffee, and left. On the way out, he winked at me. Explain that. It was a message.”
“Maybe he just liked you,” Karishma said. “Sometimes, one person sees another person and decides to wink. It actually happens often. I expect that’s why he sat behind you, too. You’re very pretty.”
“At least a six out of ten,” Hinderman helpfully agreed.
“I’m not going to comment on that, but if you rate me again, the consequences won’t be pretty. Anyway, I decided that big cities are no place for recuperation.”
“Are you sure your paranoia fever had died down?” Hinderman asked.
“Yes! But my wanderlust never dies. The toothache had returned. Back to the winding road for me. So I forgot about saving money at the hotel and drove. This time, I didn’t pay attention to direction or state. Details like that are too much hassle. I just took any old route that avoided security stops. Goldie was a trooper. Her tank sloshed water all over my passenger-side seat, but I switched it for some clean stuff every day. And then, after driving another ten hours, I merged onto a long, straight road. Everything was flat, and there weren’t any trees nearby. It was the opposite of this place. I think the trees have been muddling my head. Too many branches and details, you know? It’s like Feng Shui. Your environment molds your thoughts.”
“Actually, Feng shui is …”
“Shh, Karishma. You’ll miss the epiphany part. In the open place, everything became clear. I could think about the last few months in an objective way, sorta out-of-body, if you know what I mean. And I realized that I’ve been running around like a chicken without its head. We all have. We’ve been asking the wrong questions. The who instead of the why. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you and Rin have been doing a separate investigation. Collaboration, Karishma! We must collaborate, or our information is incomplete.”
“But it’s over, isn’t it?” Hinderman asked. “That messed up boy confessed, and now he’s gone.”
“It’s not over until all the loose ends find their partners,” Fabi said. “Let’s begin with the question that started this mess. What sliced open my arm? It wasn’t a bullet. But obviously the bullet is connected somehow.”
“Maybe it smashed a beaker, sent glass through your arm?” Hinderman guessed.
“Hm. A vial broke near the centrifuge. But the distance was too great. And I just wouldn’t expect a piece of glass to sail across the room and cut me. They didn’t find anything embedded in my skin, either. First things first? We should return to the lab and look for clues. Properly this time. Together. Let’s find the real weapon.”
“It’s been months,” Karishma said. “The clues may be gone.”
“Perhaps. But I’d prefer to look anyway.” “So your epiphany? It’s, um, you need to reevaluate the incident in September?”
“No.” She slid her empty bowl across the table grimly. “I just accepted that I’ve been doing stuff the wrong way lately. Maybe I deserve to have masked crusaders riding my coattails. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”
“He wasn’t really …” After a moment’s hesitation, Hinderman decided to let her believe in fairy tales and dove into his remaining ice cream.
“Maybe you have a point,” Karishma said quietly. “It’s odd. Not just the injury, but the Felix incident …”
“Right!” Fabi interrupted. “Less than a week before he died, the cult got wind of his identity!”
Karishma shook her head, eyebrow cocked. “I was going to say, um, right before he died, I told Dr. Becker his name.” They exchanged tense, significant glances.
“Oh, snap, ladies,” Hinderman said. “It’s on now.”
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Dec 1, 2013 20:22:30 GMT -8
Chapter Ten - Rin's Cousin Is A 1337 IT Guy, And Gargoyles Torment Young Coeds
After they ate ice cream, Karishma took Penny home. She had a spare cage in her bedroom, much smaller than the laboratory setup but roomy enough that the rat could stretch her wee legs. Karishma lived in the second floor of a two-story building. She shared the kitchen and living room with a quiet and mostly absent tenant named Josephina, but her bedroom and bathroom were private. The house creaked when the temperature changed, and it was drafty. However, she hadn’t found a better deal near the university. Plus, the neighborhood was quiet.
There was an old, weathered tree outside her window. During blustery days, its branches tickled the glass. Sometimes, she lay awake at night and wondered if the lazy scratching came from the tree or a hollow-eyed stranger clinging to its branches who pawed to get in like a stray cat. She was afraid to close the blinds, because then she couldn’t distinguish one menace from the other. But she was also afraid to leave them open; a menacing voyeur could peer through. She compromised by cutting a peek hole in the blinds. It wasn’t large enough for somebody from the street to utilize, but she could look outside to investigate strange sounds. Thus far, every scrape had been the wind through the tree, but Karishma was vigilant.
Once Penny had settled in and several hours passed, she wrote a letter to her parents explaining the situation. They were wiser than she’d ever be, and Karishma didn’t keep any secrets from them.
Dear Mom and Dad,
This week has been eventful! A few days ago, the young man who was lurking outside our building passed away during a tragically violent murder-suicide. Have you ever been involved with a murder-suicide? It’s very upsetting. Sometimes, I regret coming here.
I wonder why Dr. Becker invited me to work in his facility. My psychological study does not complement the work others in his group have been conducting. For example, Richard’s flowers: how do they benefit from Penny’s mental and emotional stability? One might compare our work because both subjects – flowers and rat – are GM organisms, but his modifications cause superficial ornamental changes in color and petal shape. My focus is the effects of longevity on a complex mind.
By the way, I’ve trained Penny to recognize simple patterns using colored beads. She is the most clever rat! Did you know that people sell paintings made by elephants and dogs for thousands of dollars? Maybe I should give Penny a little canvas and teach her to roll on it, covered in nontoxic paint. This is a good way to make a fortune, I think. Something besides murder suicide has bothered me lately. I know you believe that I am safe from Greenwood harassment, since the university needs a safe environment for the young students, but
There was a soft rapping at her window. With bated breath, she stopped typing and listened. Rap, rap. Deliberate knocking. The branches never made raps. They screeched and scratched.
“Who’s there?” Karishma called.
The bedroom lights obscured the view through her peephole; it was a block of darkness. She had to put her eye directly against it to see anything. But should she? No, surely not. If somebody shattered the glass, she’d be blinded!
“Who’s there!”
“It’s me! Are you busy? Can I visit!” It was Fabi’s voice, muffled but unmistakable.
Karishma drew the blinds and pressed her face against the glass. Her coworker clung to the bent branch outside. “Careful!” Karishma said. She hastily unlocked and opened the window. “It’s an old tree. You’ll get hurt!”
“Thank you,” Fabi said. “I was worried I picked the wrong window.” She wiggled inside, where it was warm and safe, like a tree snake.
“What are you doing? You scared me! I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow. Tomorrow morning.”
“It’s almost morning,” she said. “Thirty until midnight. You’re awake later than I expected, by the way.”
“I was writing my parents. They like a letter from me at least twice a week. Why didn’t you knock on my door?”
“And wake the woman who lives downstairs? Plus, nobody can know I was here tonight.”
“So call me,” she said.
“No. They may suspect something. What if they have our phone records?”
“Fabiana. That is really, really paranoid. ” She sat on the edge of her bed. It was twin-sized with elaborate gold and purple silk sheets. It creaked under her weight, because the mattress was a relic her parents purchased when Karishma was eighteen. Fortunately, she had a sturdy, resilient back and could pass the night on a sleeping bag unrolled across the cold, hard floor.
“You think? Or am I just paranoid enough?”
“Okay, what was so important? Why did you climb my tree?”
“If we’re gonna scour the lab for clues, now’s the best time. Secretly, under the cover of darkness.”
“No way. I really …” Suddenly, her cell phone rang. She stared at the perky little machine, surprised that anybody would call after nine. The ID read: Rin. “It’s Rin.”
“He’s, um, the intern, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “I wonder what he needs. I’m not usually so popular.” She answered the call. With a hushed voice, Rin asked if he could visit.
“I’m nearby,” he said. “My friend and I have been driving in circles, talking. There’s something you need to see. It’s the game cameras. They’ve taken some weird pictures lately.”
“Oh! I’ll meet you outside,” she promised. Then, Karishma slipped into a sweater, skirt, and thicker coat. She’d been wearing pajama pants and a loose T-shirt.
“Why did the intern call you so late?” Fabi asked. “Are you two doing more secret investigations? Not fair.” She looked around the bedroom thoughtfully. It seemed like innocent curiosity, but Karishma wondered if she was actually searching for spy bugs hidden in common household objects. The bedroom was tidy. It had a carpeted gray floor, walk-in closet for clothes, one little laundry hamper, and family photos hanging in clear frames. Along one wall, Karishma kept her books. She enjoyed reading lighthearted things like supernatural adventures from the bookstore’s fantasy aisle. She made each custom paper covers using pieces of colored vellum paper. The standard kitchy shot of an awkwardly posed woman ruined her interior design scheme. Plus, she never imagined the characters like their cover representations, and she suspected that the writers had other conceptions, too. Did cover artists even read the book before they worked? Did they consult the author? Maybe good ones, but all? Perhaps not. They were satisfied with any image that sold copies.
“We left cameras in the forest,” Karishma explained. “He says they’ve been taking some very strange photos tonight.” She put her hand against the bars from Penny’s cage. The little rat pawed at them and nuzzled her fingertips with a small pink nose. Her tail swished languidly. “I’ll be back soon,” Karishma promised.
“Why did you take her home today, by the way? Fabi asked. She closed the blinds and thoughtfully regarded the peek hole.
“Because it’s a vacation holiday. I may not leave the village this year, but she can still come home for good company.” Plus, this would be another fine chance to observe Penny’s reactions to environmental change. Karishma did not plan to admit that she was mainly concerned about the rat’s safety, however. Not after accusing Fabi of unnecessary paranoia. Although, to be completely honest, climbing a tree and knocking on her window late at night because “they” might be monitoring the phones was a disturbing level of mistrust that surpassed anything Karishma felt at the moment.
“Okay, then. Who do you live with, by the way?”
“She’s an elementary school teacher. We barely speak. I expect that she sleeps now.”
Fabi nodded. “Fair enough. C’mon. I’ll chat on our way to meet Rin. This is perfect, actually. Are we going to the facility?”
Karishma almost denied her the opportunity because she hadn’t been invited. But they’d agreed to work together. She turned off her bedroom lights, and quietly left, after locking the door behind her. Josephina seemed trustworthy, but Karishma’s parents and a few years of solitary life taught her that people often wore masks. The mild-mannered elementary school teacher may be compulsively nosy, or in desperate need of money to fund a hidden cold medicine addiction. If either possibility were true, she’d gladly rummage through Karishma’s personal belongings on the sly. If she didn’t lock her bedroom door every time she left the house, Karishma would never know whether her charm bracelet, for example, had been misplaced or stolen.
Fabi followed her down the narrow staircase. Every few steps creaked beneath them, but her housemate was a heavy sleeper. Josephina once napped through a thunder storm that sent a branch through the living room window. Karishma had found an empty bird nest on the branch. She spent hours searching the yard for fallen baby robins, without luck. Hinderman later reassured her that the nest was probably abandoned, since it was August, and most baby birds hatched during the spring and mid-summer.
Outside, they walked down the street for a block. The neighborhood was already dark, though an occasional curtained window flashed with an array of blues and reds, as if lit by a television. At the corner, an idling black convertible flashed its lights, and Rin waved at them from the passenger seat.
“I’m sorry I woke you up so late.” Then, he seemed to notice Fabi. She wore dark jeans and a navy blue hoodie, so her slim body had blended into the shadows. “What? Miss Reyes? What?”
“We were having a meeting,” Fabi said. “You’re awake past curfew, Kiddo. Who’s that?” She pointed at the driver. The man wore a trenchcoat and trilby. He was also the only black person Fabi had seen in the village, outside of the student population.
“I don’t know,” Rin said. “Who are you?”
The mysterious driver shrugged. “Leo.”
“We’re cousins,” Rin explained. “You can sit in the back, Ka ... uuuuh.” He raised his thin eyebrow and made the most annoyed expression a deadpan face could muster as Fabi hopped into the back of the convertible. Karishma joined her less acrobatically.
“Sure. Okay,” he said. “There’s room for two, I guess. The camera started going wild forty minutes ago. People have triggered it thirty times, at least. They all wear vests and hard hats, like construction workers. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s not typical.”
“The fence, maybe?” Karishma guessed. “Dr. Becker promised us an electric fence, but why would anybody work after dark?”
Rin twisted in his seat as Leo revved the engine. He leaned over to Karishma and whispered, “What’s she really doing here?”
Before Karishma could respond, Fabi entered their personal space bubble. “I’m joining your investigation. We need to treat each other like colleagues. Lesson one of student internship training! Good detective work, like good science, requires collaboration.” She knit her fingers together in a sign of unity.
“Unless you’re a hardboiled wildcard private investigator,” Leo said. “They work best alone.”
“Oh, is that why you’re wearing a fedora?” Fabi asked. “We have a PI in our midst?”
“No, Ma’am, it’s a trilby, and I always dress this way.”
“He fixes computers,” Rin said.
“IT guy?” she asked. “Figures.”
“I’m more than an IT guy.” He looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror and smiled.
“Are you both minors?” Fabi asked. “Karishma, this is a bad idea. We shouldn’t invite minors to a possible crime scene.”
“I’m twenty-one,” Rin said, somberly resigned to his fate.
“Twenty-eight. I don’t have a young face, right?” Leo rubbed his chin and considered growing a beard. “Should I dim the lights as we reach campus? This is one of your illegal things, right?”
“Drop us off near the wooden signpost,” Rin said. “We’ll walk to the facility. It was swarming with guys.”
“And it’s legal!” Karishma assured him. “We’re just being sneaky legal.”
The university welcome signpost was a half mile from Dr. Becker’s lab. One could reach the facility by a straight trip through campus or a round-about web of sidewalks skirting its edge. They took the direct route to save time. Since most students had returned home for vacation, the dormitories and academic buildings were quiet. Karishma felt like somebody had dropped her in the middle of a contemporary ghost town.
“Did you hear, Rin?” she asked. “Felix is dead.”
He laughed sharply. “Yeah. Yeah, I heard. Me and Mags actually found his grandmother’s body.”
“You did? I don’t understand. Is this a joke?”
“I hope my jokes are funnier than that,” he said. “Me and her were scoping out his. The body was near the back door. I didn’t stick around, but she’d been murdered.”
“Was in a red house?” Fabi asked. She grabbed him by the elbow. “Can you describe the scene for me?”
“Red house? Yeah. I don’t feel like elaborating right now.”
“I’m so sorry, Rin,” Karishma said. “That must have been just…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word to express the horror of discovering a dead body.
“It was,” he agreed. “How’d you know about the red house?”
“My new dentist said that the person who shot at me lived in a red house,” Fabi explained. She wanted to press the issue and learn more about the dead woman - namely, whether he found a clump of tastefully highlighted blonde hair clutched in her cold, stiff fingers - but perhaps he needed some time to recover from the trauma. She didn’t worry that he’d forget important details. Stuff like that stuck around. The scene and probably burnt itself into his mind’s eye.
“So,” Rin said, “you don’t have the flu anymore, Miss Reyes?”
“I feel much better, thank you.”
They finally reached the trail that connected the campus proper to Dr. Becker’s facility. It cut through high grass and a thinly forested sliver of land. During summer and late spring, students hung bright nylon hammocks between the trees, but their branches were currently devoid of leaves and people (Karishma hoped). She was too sleepy for a confrontation at the moment. It was decently later than midnight already. Karishma wasn’t always early-to-bed, early-to-rise. Sometimes, she stayed awake until four AM to play games with nocturnal Penny. Unfortunately, her internal clock started complaining after fifteen hours of wakefulness.
They walked single file, though Rin and Fabi were sometimes shoulder-to-shoulder, and neither managed to hold the lead position for longer than a couple minutes. As the group reached the facility, they ducked behind a convenient bush. Its parking lot was filled with lumbering trucks, and spotlights had been set up around the property. They illuminated a wall segment between the northern forest and building. Judging by the preparatory work along the eastern, western, and southern perimeters, the fence we expand until it surrounded Dr. Becker’s facility completely. It was at least ten feet tall and composed of a thick, plaster-like material. There was a metallic bar running along the top of the fence, and a coil of wire, reminiscent of barbed wire without the point the hooks, surrounded it. A dozen people wearing reflective vests were working feverishly to complete the construction.
“It really is the fence,” Karishma said. She hadn’t expected to be correct. “I wonder why they work at night, like vampires.”
“Don’t get my hopes up,” Rin said. “You know, there’s always construction somewhere on campus. Last semester it was the gym, and before that the renovated the language arts department. They had to exchange the gargoyles for cuter statues, because some kid got really trashed and mistook them for devils. He climbed up the side of the building and started screaming at the bat-winged gargoyle. It woke up like fifty people who live in the dorm across the street. My friend was there. She said he was shouting, ‘But I’m a nice guy! I’m a nice guy!’ And then his grip on the edge of the roof failed, and he fell onto the hedges below. They probably saved his life. He still broke a toe, though. I saw him hobbling around in a cast after the incident. He was asking girls to sign it, and obviously nobody could refuse, because the dumbass looked so pathetic.”
“So the university took away the gargoyles because one person climbed a roof and fell off?” Karishma asked. It seemed like a waste. And poor bat-winged gargoyle! It was just misunderstood.
“Naw, actually, it gets better. After the accident, a girl living in the dorm across the street started hearing voices at night. She lived on the fifth floor, eye level to the bat-winged gargoyle, and her window overlooked the language arts department. Right before she’d fall asleep, during that fuzzy period between alert and conscious, she’d hear a whisper that called her a sinner. And she’d think, no, I’m not. And the voice would say, you are. You just don’t know it. And then it would repeat weird shit about the butterfly effect. She wrote this all in her blog. And I really like the way things developed, because it’s first time I’ve witnessed mass hysteria in action. Soon, a bunch of people in the dorm could hear the voice, too, though it never said the same thing twice. They all agreed that the gargoyle wanted everybody to fall head-first out the window, though, because every day they lived, they sinned, whether they knew it or not. And when a couple kids told the school psychologist that may be the gargoyle was right, and maybe they should do what he said, the institution panicked. They took down those statues so fast, I barely had the chance to say goodbye.”
“That would make a nice ghost story the next time we go camping and roast marshmallows,” Fabi said. “But…”
“My point is,” Rin said, “even when the University had a good reason to renovate the language arts department fast, I never saw construction workers later than four PM. They go home when it starts getting dark. I bet it’s safer that way. So what are these guys doing?”
“Maybe Dr. Becker insisted,” Karishma suggested. “He was quite angry that the University has dawdled for months.”
“Even if Dr. Becker threw a bitch fit, it can’t be worse than over-protective parents. I just doubt the university approved midnight fence building.” Silent, they watched the orange vested men work.
“That gargoyle story gets funnier the more I think about it,” Fabi finally said. “I guess it would be a completely different story if somebody actually died. Or broke more than a toe.”
“So, you wanted to check the cleaning lab for clues tonight, Fabi?” Karishma whispered. Unsurprisingly, the art of fence construction was boring. If somebody didn’t distract her, she might fall asleep on the spot.
“Oh, yeah.” Fabi lowered her voice. “But let’s spy for a couple more minutes. By the way, I have a theory about your part in Dr. Becker’s lab.”
“You do? What?”
“He used to make designer pets. Maybe the doctor envisions that immortal rats will become the next big trend. My first pet was a hamster, and her death was the most devastating part of elementary school. Some people would pay hundreds of dollars for bunnies, mice, and hamsters that live decades.”
“Penny isn’t that kind of lab rat,” Karishma protested. She spoke quietly, since the construction workers were still skittering around the facility grounds like ants. “Anyway, my parents are the breeders and primary investigators. They own the rights to her DNA.”
“Your mom and dad have more Pennies?” Rin asked. “No. She’s special.”
“Yeah?”
“The others go wrong after fifteen years or so. They become forgetful and unhappy.”
“That sucks,” he said. “Maybe it’s because nobody reads them picture books.”
“Yes, I think so. So, I’m curious. What are you working on, Fabi?”
“I’m juggling two ongoing projects,” she said. “The boring one is just more bacteriophage stuff. That’s something others have done a million times. Everybody wants to kill bacteria, you know. I don’t get why Dr. Becker forces me to study that tedious subject. It’s a dead end. That’s why I have my pet project. For fun! It has nothing in common with your work, though.”
“Pet project?” Rin asked. “Is this something dangerous?”
“Don’t get your suspenders in a twist.” Indeed, Rin wore suspenders, but they weren’t homage to his grandfather’s style. He wouldn’t dream of that. Rin’s suspenders were black with angry rainbow-colored skulls printed on the rough fabric. “Why would I do anything dangerous?” Fabi asked. “What am I, a secret agent?” “I don’t know, Miss Reyes. Maybe I’m the secret agent. Ever consider that?”
She put a finger against her lips. “Shh. Keep it down, before they notice us trespassing at work.”
“Why are we hiding?” Karishma asked. “I work late many days, and if it weren’t vacation time, Hinderman would also be here.”
“Hm,” Rin said. “Good point. We’re gonna look for clues now, anyway.” He stood, and when his head and upper body popped above bush-level, Karishma heard a curt, frightened shout. Rin had startled an orange vested man who was measuring the ground elevation nearby.
“Good evening!” Fabi said. “Don’t worry – he’s an intern, not a hooligan. We actually work here. Late night experiment. I’m Dr. Reyes.”
“Why were you hiding behind a bush?” the man asked. “I thought a zombie was attacking and almost brained you both.” Evidentially, he didn’t notice Karishma, who was still mostly hidden by the bush, courtesy of her diminutive stature. At the word “brained,” she tried to make herself smaller and stood behind Rin.
“We’ll get out of your way,” Fabi said. “To the laboratory!”
They hurried into the facility and locked the door. As if compelled by the magnetism of a tricky mystery, they went directly to the stairwell, up one flight, and gathered in front of the now infamous dish cleaning lab. “By the way,” Fabi said. “Ya know my pet project?”
“Yes,” Karishma said. “To the extent that it exists. Because you just mentioned it.”
“It costs more than my bacteriophage stuff. But Dr. Becker pays. No questions asked.”
“Oh,” Karishma said. She unlocked the door and ushered her colleagues inside. “How interesting.”
“Doesn’t it make you wonder? Why did he hire you? Why did he hire me? Where does the money come from? It’s nothing he receives through grants. Maybe these are questions we should ask.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked them already,” Rin said. “Five years, right? You’ve worked here for five years?” He paced around the room. It had acquired a spooky aura since the incident in September. Much like the gargoyle, he supposed. Rin cocked his head and listened for eerie voices. Nothing. Good. Nothing yet, anyway.
“You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Fabi countered. “This job saved my life. Maybe you’ll understand someday.”
“So you became worried that Dr. Becker has ulterior motives for employing us?” Karishma asked. “That he … is involved with your injury?”
“Yes to the first question. No to the last. Consider it this way: what if he’s doing something that Greenwood Church really, really dislikes. Hm? Something that involves our projects. Something they’d kill to prevent. It’s obvious that Dr. Becker desperately needs everybody here. He’s an impatient tyrant, but that man lets us run wild. Why? I spend thousands on my pet projects. You, um, have controversial ideas about rat psychology – which isn’t bad! It’s just dangerous. Good science should be risky. And then there’s Hinderman. He who lurks around the building after hours like the pale creepy sewer man from Lord of the Rings. Golem, right? No? Sorta? Whatever. You know who I mean. Richard may be a perfect employee, but that’s just luck.”
She walked from one end of the lab to the other, searching for clues. Fabi paused between the window and far wall. “This is where I stood when it happened. I faced that way, my arm was like this.”
“This lab is a mess,” Rin said. “It’s scuffed up. Crap on the floor. Hey, I thought you guys don’t keep animals here, ‘cept for Penny.”
“That’s right,” Karishma said.
“What’s up with the bedding and straw everywhere, then?”
“How strange. I don’t know,” she admitted. “It could be old. But years have passed since the rat escape, and … Fabi, what’s your pet project?”
“It doesn’t involve live animals,” she said.
“Reassure us?” Rin asked.
“Top secret work. Sorry.”
“Just a hint.”
“No can do."
“Aw, Miss Reyes. Please don’t tell me that it’s more of that super virus shit.”
“Uh.” She shrugged. “What super virus? How do you remember that, anyway? It happened six years ago. You were a baby.” Plus, though her name was dragged into the St. Rose terrorist trial, the actual bad guy took ninety-nine percent of the blame, and rightfully so. How the heck did Rin know about her involvement? Did he Google her name? What a freak.
“Fifteen! Fifteen years old. Not a baby. And are you kidding me now?” He stepped back, hands raised defensively. “It is! It’s more super virus shit. Shit! Shit! Don’t come close! Karishma, get away from her. Fucking awful, Miss Reyes. Why? Do you want more people to suffer?”
“No!” It wasn’t fair. Even the clever punk kid misunderstood her intentions. “I don’t want anybody to suffer ever! I’m a champion of knowledge. Why is that concept difficult to process?”
“Because you could be helping people instead!” Karishma said. “I trusted you.”
“Et tu? It’s not … look, you have the wrong idea. Everybody helps people. A thousand other labs are investigating bacteriophages as alternatives to antibiotics. Blah, blah! My colleagues neglect entire disciplines because they’re afraid!”
“Why? Fabiana, why do you want to learn about something so hideous in the first place?”
“All knowledge is equal.”
“That’s bullshit!” Rin said. “One mistake, and you’ll kill everyone here!”
“I haven’t made something that’s compatible with humans yet.”
“Yet? Forget this. I’m telling.”
“Telling?” She laughed. “You’ll tattle, Rin? Are we in high school? For crying out loud. Who? Who will you tell? Your parents? The dean? Haha! Don’t bother. I’m the only one who will benefit from this work. My notes are in code, and I destroy all traces of my experiments. Plus, it’s mostly theoretical. Don’t worry about another St. Rose. The scary knowledge dies with me.”
“Codes can be cracked, Miss Reyes. There is no perfect cipher.”
“I’m done defending myself. Thought police. Sheeple. I expected more from you both.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Karishma said. “Let’s go, Rin. Rin?”
He was staring at the bulletin board hanging on the wall. “You guys just play darts here, right? Never throw knives?”
“Never,” Karishma said. “Only darts and thumbtacks. Why do you ask?” She still frowned, feeling afraid and betrayed by Fabi’s pet project. “Can we just leave? Please.”
“In a second. Look. Hm. Curious.” There were a few paper-thin, inch-long holes in the soft wood, as if somebody stabbed it repeatedly with a fine-bladed knife or razor. “When something cut your arm, were you standing in near this area?” he asked.
“I was right here. So a bit off to the side, but more or less.”
“Give me some pinchers, please.”
Karishma found a pair of forceps in one drawer and passed them to Rin. He widened a hole and dug inside. Then, with a perturbed expression, he withdrew a raindrop-sized blob of gold-silver metal. It was malleable, like bubble gum.
“What is that?” Karishma asked. “Silly putty?”
“There’s more in the other holes. Weird.”
“Yeah, weird,” Fabi said. “I’ve never seen that junk before. But it doesn’t help us.”
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the memory of that day. There was a loud sound. A metallic clink. Glass breaking. She noticed the injury and ran. Police arrived. They found the bullet near a cabinet. None of her glassware had been broken.
What else? Somebody had been working in the lab earlier that morning. She assumed it was Hinderman, but why would a statistician use pungent chemicals or need tools from the equipment laboratory, anyway?
If not him, who had been in the building? Richard, Rin the Intern, and Karishma.
Was that all? Really?
“Did either of you see Dr. Becker the morning I was attacked?”
They shook their heads. “He wasn’t working,” Rin said. “Right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” It was possible that Dr. Becker saw the crime scene. After all, he knew that she left the window open. But if he’d been inside the building, why didn’t anybody notice?
“We have to speak with bossman,” Fabi said. “If he was here, and it’s possible, why’d he keep that secret?”
“Yeah, I doubt that Dr. Becker will confess to anything if you just ask nicely,” Rin said. “Gotta find actual evidence first.” He slipped the metal blob in his pocket. “And don’t think we’ll just forget that you confessed to evil science.”
“I did not! You have no idea …”
“Don’t fight,” Karishma said. “We’ll help you on one condition. Stop working on the pet project. At least until we understand what’s happening.”
“Okay. You don’t know anything about my pet project, but it’s a deal.” They shook hands to seal the agreement. “What’s our next step?”
“Here’s an idea. We figure out where Dr. Becker’s extra funding comes from,” Rin suggested. “You say he throws money at pet projects, right?”
“Uh huh. Thousands. Tens of thousands, over the years. But how can we determine that? Like you say, he won’t just share.”
“Leo. He’s my computer guy. Yeah. He needs access to Dr. Becker’s computer, though. You got a key to his private office, senior scientist?”
“You’re well connected, for a college student.” She scowled. “The doctor doesn’t trust anyone, except for Richard. And you know Mr. Wyoming …”
“Wisconsin,” Karishma whispered.
“… won’t agree to help break into Dr. Becker’s office for any reason. Can’t Leo just hack remotely? Like leet wireless IT guy skills.”
“Nah. What? Hell nah.”
Damn it. “Well, I guess there’s meatloaf in my future.” Fabi said. The reference was lost on her audience.
***
Midnight, at another place, Richard parked his rental truck at the end of his driveway. To ensure that the coast was clear, he sat in silence and observed the property for a couple minutes. It was a lovely modest estate, three miles removed from the village, with four bedrooms, two baths, and a front yard garden that annually won prizes from the orchard society and village botanical enthusiasts. The garden’s plants were all grown and bred in a traditional manner. Those old-school ignorant judges detracted points from GMOs, despite their beauty and heartiness.
Fortunately, Richard owned a greenhouse. It was well hidden from prying eyes and contained his real garden. He sometimes rescued and nurtured failed experiments, like flowers with bulbous growths on their stems (he called them cancer fruits). They might not have mass appeal, but the rejects were still pretty, in his eyes. Richard’s favorite disaster was a dandelion whose flowerheads developed thickly curled florets. They resembled blonde-haired fairies. It was quite whimsical.
Finally satisfied, he hopped from the truck and considered the lump strapped to its bed. Wrapped in canvas, the cargo weighted at least seventy pounds. Probably more. Unfortunately, it was a present for Laura, so he could not rely on her muscle. She’d maintained the abnormal strength and athleticism built up during her service with the Corps. In that way, she put most dentists (and genetic scientists) to shame.
“You’re on your own, Richard,” he thought. Well, man wasn’t the reigning species on earth because of brute strength! Man was intelligent. Man used tools. Man confronted problems logically and planned ahead. Man used itemized lists.
Okay, he had a game plan: acquire a rolling cart and use it to move Laura’s present up the driveway, which was about one sixteenth of a mile and paved. Energized, Richard jogged to the garage. It was more cluttered than the rest of his house, but everything still had a place. The power tools were stored in a metal shelf next to Ronnie and NAME’s outdoor toys. As he passed them, Richard tucked the folded inflatable pool inside their foot-powered toddler car. Then, he went to the gardening supply corner. He used the wheeled cart to transport heavy bags of fertilizer, but it was curiously missing. Why would Laura take his cart?
Oh. Well, there were a few possibilities. Some worse than others. Considerably worse. He hoped she wasn’t digging up graves. Laura didn’t often disrespect the dearly departed. However, these were peculiar circumstances. Recently, she learned that her great- great grandfather had been buried with a hulking gold ring on his thumb. Strangeness apparently ran in the family, because he’d been involved with a clandestine society called Willow Men, essentially copycat Freemasons, and they were fond of heavy jewelry and pretentious riddles. In her way, Laura was determined to dig up her ancestor under the cover of darkness and retrieve the ring, since it “belonged to the family, not the graveyard.” In fact, she’d been extremely vocal about the plan lately. Richard thought it was likely that a grave robber beat her to it long ago, but he loathed crushing dreams.
Regardless of her activities, Laura probably left the cart near their backyard shed. He checked his watch. It was ten past midnight. She’d wake soon to check on the twins and chat with a friend from England, so Richard had to work quickly. He ran around the house and hesitated, because the greenhouse was lit brightly from within. Through its steamy, translucent windows, he saw Laura wandering among the plants.
Another simple plan ruined. Why bother.
No! He would bluff his way through their encounter, and it was a-okay, because the noblest and most acceptable white lies protected surprise parties and presents. He stepped into the dome-shaped greenhouse.
“You’re back,” Laura said. It was her way of asking, ‘Where did you go?’
“I left something at work,” he lied. “You seem wistful.”
“Do you ever miss the jimsonweed and nightshade?”
“Yes. Constantly.” He killed all the toxic plants in their greenhouse after the boys learned how to walk. It felt like sacrificing one baby for another. “I saved their seeds, though. We can start again later.”
“Will they keep for fifteen years?”
“Why not ten?” he asked. “We’ll teach Ronnie and NAME how to avoid bad plants well before they’re teenagers.”
“I wouldn’t trust a teenager around jimsonweed.”
Then, Richard noticed dirt beneath her fingernails. “I knew it! Honey, you’ll be arrested someday. Grave robbery is definitely illegal.”
“What? Grave … no, silly. I was just planting your present.” She pointed to a red clay pot on the ground. “It’s buried it under the soil. You were supposed to find it later. I thought a treasure hunt would be fun. But now the surprise has been ruined. Dig it up!”
With a shrug, he took a spade and pushed aside the loose dirt. There was a glint of gold. “You didn’t.” She did. Richard unearthed a large ring stamped by a goofy little stick figure symbol that resembled an ankh with limbs. Red and black stones were embedded in the band.
“Taadaa! I bet it fits you, too. He also had skinny hands. Of course, he was a skeleton, so …”
“When did you find the time?” Richard asked. He rubbed dirt from one of the stones. It was gaudy, but Laura looked so pleased. Always accommodating, he slipped the ring on his thumb.
“Couple weeks ago. Jasper helped. Hooray! it looks kingly! Marvelous. That funny guy on the front will keep you safe. Protection from evil. Now, where is mine?” She rubbed her hands together with excitement. “I know that’s why you disappeared. Can’t pull the wool over these eyes!
“Maybe I was out having an affair. Ever thought of that?”
They were quiet for a moment, and then the two shared a good laugh. “That’s rich,” Laura said. “Give me presents now.”
Plans, mice, and men. He resigned to fate and gestured outside. “The truck. Follow me.”
Hand in hand, they strolled outside. Laura pointed at the satellites passing lazily overhead. They were less magnificent than shooting stars, but Richard was tickled by their origin. One day, a bunch of hairless apes decided to send their machines into space. Man reigned supreme. At the truck, he unstrapped the present and threw its canvas aside with a flourish. The bat-winged gargoyle, its face locked in a permanent grimace, had found a new home.
“Handsome! Oh, he’s so handsome! Richard, how?” Laura clapped and climbed into the back of the truck to help move the statue.
“The university sold a few at auction. This one is special. He drove all those kids into the deep end. Remember?”
“How amusing! Mass hysteria. Lucky they didn’t accuse the professors of witchcraft, right? It was like the Salem trials all over again. Isn’t psychology fascinating? A shame I love teeth more than brains.” She lifted the statue with a grunt. “Ooof. Let’s … put … him with the gnomes.”
They arranged the garden gnomes around the bat-winged gargoyle and turned a miniature flood lamp onto the scene. It resembled a peculiar ceremony. The gnomes worshiped their furious deity and sacrificed weeds in his name.
“If the kids start hearing voices,” Laura said, “we can drop a potato sack over his head.”
“Or try the soap-in-mouth method.” He twisted the ring on his finger and wondered if Laura had sanitized the piece before she buried it in potting soil. Would he need to worry about corpse diseases now? Surely not. But just in case, he intended to wash his hands twice before bed.
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