Deadly Messengers (40 page)

Did he have the right venue?

What if this was a decoy, while somewhere across town an atrocity was occurring while he wasted his time here?

No, it all fit. He could just imagine the satisfaction McKinley would feel bringing this thing full circle, to where it all began.

He checked around the wall again. A fresh-faced, pony-tailed girl serving at the counter had noticed the kitchen emptying. She wandered back toward the area with a puzzled look on her face. O’Grady sunk back behind the wall. As she passed by, he grabbed her arm. A few words whispered in her ear, and she was out the side door as though exiting was an Olympic event.

Once he’d briefed the manager Gary, the clock in O’Grady’s head began ticking again. Roughly, three minutes had elapsed since he’d entered the kitchen. A decision had to be made. Either he called in an alert and put out an A.P.B. on Kendall and McKinley, or he continued to clear this restaurant as though an event was about to occur.

He gave himself one last visual sweep of the restaurant, before he would make the call.

When O’Grady saw her, he was, at once, relieved, then puzzled. Then afraid.

Kendall stood near an external window just off to side of the people queued. She didn’t look like the Kendall Jennings he’d met. The girl he’d met had a fire in her eyes and a persistent energy like a pesky bug that wouldn’t leave you alone.
Or a beautiful woman who invaded your thoughts.

This
Kendall Jennings looked like a zombie. Her eyes, vacant and lost, stared toward the counter. Her feet shuffled back and forth on the spot as though she stood on hot stones.

While he watched, she stretched her neck stiffly, first to the left and then to the right as though she were performing warm-up exercises before a race. Her hand moved to her face and rubbed harshly across her forehead, rubbing as though she had a headache. A few seconds later, her hand dropped away. Again he noted the lifelessness in her eyes. No light, no animation. She was a sleepwalker.

She had to be drugged, which meant McKinley must be somewhere nearby. O’Grady didn’t understand exactly what was happening. If they were here, and Kendall had ingested this Zombie’s Breath, then, something
was
about to happen. He doubted it was a peaceful protest. He hadn’t imagined he’d face this; He’d thought Kendall would be a hostage.

Now he needed to decide, was Kendall in danger or was
she
the danger?

O’Grady looked past the crowd of diners to the restaurant’s entry door.

The manager, Gary, had just walked in. He didn’t look like a hero, but he was proving he had guts as he carried out O’Grady’s request perfectly. Thank God, because nobody would blame him for taking off instead.

Quickly, Gary moved through the restaurant stopping by each table, crouching, spending a few moments before moving on to the next. Immediately after he’d leave, the seated patrons would rise and make their way to the side exit. The manager was informing the customers of a gas leak, assuring there was no need for panic. As directed, he’d begun on the opposite side of the L-shaped restaurant, out of direct view of Kendall. All was going well. People were escaping without Kendall realizing.

His other worry: he did not know McKinley’s whereabouts and whether the man knew someone was intervening with his plans. He also didn’t know if there others had been programmed like Kendall. The entire scenario was truly frightening.

With nobody left in the kitchen, the lines had stopped moving. Unfortunately, he had no way to alert the counter servers without creating suspicion. The two employees, a shaggy-haired girl and a tall, gangly boy whose nickname surely was Stretch, had suddenly realized something
was
happening. Puzzled looks crossed between them as Stretch walked back into the kitchen, calling out to his manager

The customers at the counter had, also, begun to notice the problem. They, too, looked around and beyond the counter, restless and confused. A woman at the front of the line, furthest from Kendall, pointed and exclaimed, far too loudly for O’Grady’s liking: “What’s going on? Where’s all the staff?”

Kendall looked at the woman and then where she’d pointed. Damn, he’d hoped for just a few more minutes. Far too many people remained in the dining room. The two young servers now faced terrible danger.

Despite the commotion, a beanie-headed kid wearing a headset swung away from the counter carrying a takeaway bag, his the last order filled. A customer behind him moved up to take his place. O’Grady’s breath caught in his chest. He now knew his time was up.

KENDALL WATCHED DOUG McKINLEY STEP UP to the counter. Pale, ghostly colors shimmered about him, making him appear to glow like a muted rainbow, an angel of light. The voice began again as though a play button were pressed.

Take the gun.

A flood of emotions exploded. The greatness of the act; the peace she would bestow; the change she would bring to the world. She was born to this. Her mother’s death had sealed this future. Now with this one act, they would be reunited. She could finally tell her mother:
sorry.

Straight and true
.

The words, the letters, the voice surrounded her, before her eyes, inside her head, a flood of syllables filling every cell of her body. She might explode with their energy. The pain in her neck licked at her mind, but she was so close now it didn’t matter.

Over and over, she mouthed the words, “straight and true
.”

Slow and determined steps carried her forward. Small steps to a grand destiny. She maneuvered to the side of the counter and stopped.

Take the gun from inside your bag.

The old man had given her a knapsack, which she’d slung across her shoulder. She reached inside and felt around. Her fingertips found the cold hardness of the gun. She felt another gun; there were two small guns inside.
Just to be sure.

A shudder ran up her arm. She felt her mother’s warm smile.
Not long now, Mom.

Her grasping hand wound around the barrel of the first weapon; her fingers sought and found the trigger.

Keep the guns hidden. Until it’s time.

She held the gun inside the bag. Not afraid. She was ready.

Move toward the counter.

The gift of the voice was not thinking. She had only to listen and act. No decisions. No second-guessing. No questions. The voice spoke. She obeyed. Her conviction made steadfast by the overwhelming sense of purpose, of destiny.

Kendall stopped at the counter entry, a hinged door, which doubled as counter space but could be lifted for access. Blue plastic trays lay stacked to the side. With her free hand she reached down, flipped the door up, and moved behind the counter.

One of the servers, a tall boy with dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail, noticed her as he walked back to the counter from the kitchen.

“Hey, you can’t come back here.”

In response, Kendall pulled the gun from the bag. The gun said differently, she could travel wherever she chose. She released the safety clip like she’d done it a thousand times, though she couldn’t remember ever handling a gun.

Raising the weapon, she extended her arm and pointed it at the tall boy. His arms flew above his head, fingers spread wide like they were spring-loaded. Suddenly he seemed to have shrunk six inches.

A girl employee next to him stopped serving a customer and turned. She began to shriek, but stopped mid-scream.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” she said.

“Fuck. No,” Tall Boy said, his tone piercingly high-pitched. His voice and the girl’s scream, like the screech of a train derailing. Kendall fought a sudden urge to drop the gun and cover her ears.

She fought the urge. She needed to stay straight and true. Just a little longer.

You will pull the trigger. Do. Not. Hesitate.

Kendall didn’t.

She felt her finger flex. Her hand snapped backward with the gun’s recoil. A small throb bloomed in her wrist simultaneously with the crack of the shot. Then the world went breathlessly silent. As though she were watching a movie, Kendall stared, unmoved, as a red mark appeared on the shoulder of Tall Boy’s shirt. The stain turned from deep red to dark purple as it mixed with the blue of his shirt and spread.

Tall Boy looked down, his eyes blinking wildly like an overworked ventriloquist dummy. His female co-worker screamed. He joined her, even louder, as though they were members of an a cappella Halloween group.

Behind Kendall the sounds of chaos erupted. People shouting, running, chairs and tables being overturned. A cacophony of panic.

As though he’d run out of breath from the screaming, Tall Boy collapsed to the floor and began crawling along the black, rubber mesh mat toward the kitchen. Pony Tail girl didn’t hesitate. She jumped over him and ran without a backward glance to her injured workmate.

Kendall watched, keeping the gun trained on the girl, then swinging it back to the boy. It didn’t matter, there were more in the dining room. She turned to face her terrified audience. She was reminded of a marathon, the gunshot a signal for the competitors to run. Those who’d been in line had become a mob running for the door. A young woman, business skirt, perfectly straightened hair, had been knocked to the floor. Others trampled her, until a man leaned down to help her up.

Four
.
Take Four.

Yes, that was right. She needed to send four on their journey, four, the magical number today. Two guns, twelve bullets, and at least four deaths.

She held the gun straight from her body, aimed toward the retreating crowd. Those at the back were frantic, shoving and pushing their way to a door that would only feed two through at a time. She took aim, but didn’t shoot. One other thing she needed to do first.

Take Doug McKinley. Help him find peace.

He waited for her at the counter. As though standing before an altar, the old man leaned forward, his hands clasped and resting heavily against the surface. His eyes were closed, while his lips moved, mouthing words she couldn’t hear.

She moved to the center of the counter.

Help Doug be with his son.

Kendall clasped the gun with both hands and held it before her body. Again, the weight felt good. Yes, she would deliver him to his son. Then she would be free to continue with those who remained.

Her finger squeezed back on the trigger.

Doug McKinley maybe sensed her there. He smiled. When the gun exploded, he didn’t even flinch.

O’GRADY HAD MOVED ALONG THE back of the kitchen, so he could be closer to where Kendall stood. He’d moved swiftly, not taking his eyes off her or McKinley. As fate would have it, just as he rounded behind the kitchen workbenches, (the one spot where he’d lost sight of the pair for a few seconds) that’s when he heard the gunshot. In that split second, he saw nothing, but heard it all go to hell. Pandemonium had erupted in the restaurant.

“Shit,” he said, dropping to a crouch behind the prep shelf. He stretched his neck and body around the bench, until he glimpsed the counter. Adrenaline fired into his limbs. He’d seen Kendall move behind the counter and, if she’d started shooting, he didn’t know how he would save her.

Where he was, he had no angle to see anything in the dining area and only had a glimpse of the serving area. One of the warming units for the food ran horizontal, blocking his view.

“Shit. Shit,” he swore under his breath.

He
should
have called for back-up. A stupid mistake, but his thoughts were clouded because of Kendall. Now everything had gone to shit. Not only was she in danger, so was everyone else. He didn’t know whether Kendall or McKinley had the gun. They were both near the counter where the gunshot had sounded.

His breath caught in his throat, as he braced himself for more gunshots to follow in the next seconds.

Damn, he had been a fool.
He’d made a bad call, allowed this to happen. Right now, he needed to move and move fast.

O’Grady pulled his gun up to chest height and held it before him. Still squatting, he maneuvered along the side of the bench, his thigh muscles burning as he balanced on his toes. On the other side of the deep fryers, he caught sight of the upper body of a girl running toward the exit. He prayed she’d make it. That would be one less person in danger.