The Fledge Effect (10 page)

He watched his daughter twirl the
locket her Mother gave her the day before she
passed away. He feared his only way out was to
go within.

His trapped company shared the same
silent tone as a slumbering beast awaiting to
end its hibernation, in order to pursue in its
quest.

The trepidation, in each step they took,
paced through his ears. He dreaded the outcome of Calista hearing the truth Agent Brinks
so easily covered up. He wasn’t at liberty of saying it, and was forced to play along with her
story to cover up the misuse of Project Fledge
from those who would not have believed him in
the first place.

Calista sat by the window, moving back
as her legs began to tingle from the sun. She
sighed, watching college students enjoy something she once shared with her Mother; smelling flowers, and dancing in the sun. She heard
the rapid breaths Marcel took, breaking her focus. “When?” she croaked.

“When were you first given the instructions for
Project Fledge
?”
“Heh, well, I don’t remember. Why?”
Calista watched as he tapped his fingers
nervously. He shivered as she bore her icy glare
deep into his eyes. She turned back to the window, pursing her lips.
“What?” He shook his head, studying
her slouched position.
“You’re lying.”
He giggled, shaking his hands. “What?
Heh,” he scoffed. “No, no. I’m not. You know
I’m getting old. Memory tends to slip my mind.”
“Well, I have forever. So, talk.”
“Two November’s ago. Yeah, that’s
right. I remember now,” he said with a slight
grin.
“Stop smiling! You know exactly what
happened the following month.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor, grimacing, as that fatal day had not yet slipped his
mind as he hoped it would. He nodded. “
Yes
.”
“What happened? Huh?”
Your Mother died.
“Out loud! Say what happened that following month. Say it!” Calista’s voice escalated.
It startled the rest of the room.
Stunned, Emily lifted from her chair.
She patted on Maddie’s shoulder, ushering her
and Nick outside to follow her into the hall. Nick
waved them on. “
I want to know what happens
next
.”
Emily bent down to his ear. “
Get your
ass out to the hall. Now!
”
Marcel steadily watched as they shut
the door behind them. Without making eye contact, he sighed. “What’s wrong? Where is all of
this anger coming from?”
“Ever since you injected me with that
curse I have been able to think a hell of a lot
clearer. I find my Mothers’ death to be odd.”
“What do you mean? You heard Agent
Brinks say it was a Pulmonary Embolism.”
“Yeah. Or is that what she wants us to
believe. I find it odd how she just so happened
to die after you began this little experiment.”
“What do you want me to say?” His
hands shook.
She knows. But, how?
“The truth, dad. What happened? How
did she
really
die? You said it was an accident.
But, just what type of accident?” Calista’s emotions ran down her face. Not knowing was killing her. Her Father only met her with a blank
and cutting stare. An empty gaze sat her back.
A few moments passed before he answered. “You want to know the truth. I can respect that.”
The crack in his voice startled her less
than the surprise of his earnest demeanor. “Yes.
Please. That is all I am asking for.”
He paused again.
She glided towards him, hugging him
tight. She whispered into his furry ear. “
Was she
murdered?
”
“If only.”
She pulled away, dropping her hands to
her side. She scoffed in a way that made him
want to run out and join the others into the hall.
He placed his hands in one another.
“When I started, I had made at least three
batches of this liquid. Your Mother, as you
know, was like you. She helped me with it. Heh,
even though she only taught High School Chemistry, she believed she knew everything.”
“Yeah, she did,” she said with a halfgrin.
“Too much, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“She loved it so much, she insisted, no,
fought me on letter her be the one to test it.”
“Oh what batch number?”
“All three.”
“Which batch did I get?”
“The fourth one.”
He fought back tears. “I couldn’t stop
her. I didn’t even do it. Damn, she pissed me off.
I told her to wait until I was certain.”
Calista bit her lip. “She injected herself.”
“With all three at once at one hour intervals,” he said quietly. “One thing I loved
about her was how much faith she had in my experiments.”
“Why did it kill her?”
“It had a severe adverse effect on her
body. Creating clots throughout her entire
body.”
“So the Pulmonary Embolism was
caused by that?”
He choked on his tears. “Y-Yes.”
Seeing her Father space out with swollen eyes, made her stomach swirl. “It
was
an accident.”
He nodded, snapping his attention back
to her. “Indeed.”
“I’m sorry, dad.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“For thinking the worse in you.”
“I loved your Mother.”
“I know you did,” she said, embracing
him. “I did to,” she said, almost squeezing the
breath out of him.
The warmth in his arms calmed her agitation. Without anything left to lose, but Calista, the right thing was the one thing he wanted
to do. He didn’t want to lose his only child. Anything other than her, he could care less about.
Job, money, and house; take it all. Just not my
ponytailed baby girl I raised.
Calista yanked away. “We need to warn
people about this. Before it spreads any worse
than it already has. We can prevent it from
spreading!”
“I agree. I will just have to come up with
a way to do so.”
“No. will.
Together. All of us.
”
A knock on Marcel’s door broke their
attention. Emily popped her head in with a sympathetic smile. “Doctor Johnston. I am sorry to
interrupt you, but the University’s Dean
Schmick is here to see you.”
Schmick scooted past her, easing himself into the room. He looked fixedly at Marcel’s
floor. “Well, they warned me when I started
here that scientists are messy. I, uh, heh,
thought they were joking.”
Marcel outstretched his arm, taking
Schmick’s hand with a firm grip. “Dean
Schmick. What do I have the pleasure of seeing
you here for?” Instantly, Marcel’s concern could
be seen in the Dean’s eyes.
“I hope you are okay.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I tried calling. But,” he tilted,
looking behind Marcel at the unplugged and
tangled off phone, “your phone appears to be on
the floor.”
“Oh, that. I’m sorry.”
Dean Schmick shrugged it off. Assuming it is all part of Marcel’s process. “Follow me
to the conference room. A few other people and
I are holding a meeting.”
Marcel flung his head back, realizing
what he had forgotten. “Right, the interview for
my replacement. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Because the job
pursuer is the Mayor’s son.”
“Great. I’m late on a live and televised
event.”
“Heh, yes. Now come on. Without him,
funding can be cut within a blink of an eye.”
Nick chortled. “Isn’t that extortion?”
Dean Schmick turned to Marcel, pointing at Nick. “Who is this?”
“No one,” Marcel said, pushing the
Dean out of the room. “We need to hurry, I presume.”
“Right,” Dean Schmick said.
•••
He recognized the Mayors’ son from his name
brand attire and his Fathers’ jaw line.
No doubt,
he’d be great replacement based upon that and
his transcripts from Harvard.
Marcel couldn’t help but wonder why
he just doesn’t go work for the President with
having a Master’s Degree in Homeland Security
as well as having a PhD in Medical Science. He
thumbed through Grant Daly’s file, nodding at
each accomplishment listed. Ten to be exact.
Ranging anywhere from High School Debate
team all up to being a Chief Editor on his College
Newspaper: Daly’s Daily Paper.
Despite him lacking the requirements
to technically be classified as a Doctor of Science, he sat still. He didn’t fidget, or seem to be
nervous at all. Being too sure of himself, sat
Marcel aback. Marcel knew the technicalities of
how to obtain a job, but seen this interview as a
waste of time.
Without hesitation, he decided to ask
his first question. He cleared his throat, and
leaned forward. “What made you decide to take
this job?”
The man operating the camera stopped
him. “Hold on, Doctor Johnston. Wait for me to
finish the count, and then you can talk.”
Marcel nodded, studying the camera.
Beneath the tripod stand were three cords running to a conjoining television. The session was
to be projected upon it as it broadcasted all over
the city.
I’d be damned to give this job to a man
that is no more than a petty show pony.
“Wait,” Marcel said, “so this camera
airs automatically? Like, as the man reaches one
in his countdown? Not the next day?”
Dean Schmick leaned towards him and
answered. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
He grinned. “No. Actually, it solves my
problem.”
Dean Schmick rolled his eyes, and
mouthed, “
Okay
.”
The cameraman began his countdown.
After he reached one, Marcel took a deep breath
in, hesitating.
With a twitch in his smile, Dean
Schmick rubbed his palms together. “Doctor,
this is when you are to speak. Now.”
Marcel relaxed in the bouncy red chair.
“Fuck it. I’m losing this job anyhow.”
“What are you doing?” Dean Schmick
hissed.
“Warning people,” he said, facing the
camera. “Everyone listen. There is new disease
spreading. Created by me, accidentally. It’s
spreading through being bitten by anyone who
has it. They are called Fledges.”
“Marcel!” Dean Schmick said. “What in
the blazes are you—?”
“Please!” Marcel continued. “Listen! I
have a vaccine. There is no cure. They will turn
everyone into a Fledge or kill us all! Time is of
the essence!”
“Marcel Johnston, shut the hell up you
lunatic!” Dean Schmick’s face became swollen
and red with pounding rage.
Marcel realized what he did, and ran
out of the conference room. Dean Schmick
raced after him. “What was that all about?”
“No time to explain.”
“Explain or you’re fired.”
Grant stood behind Schmick, frowning.
“Yes, please elaborate your bizarre behavior.”
“Fire me, then.”
“You have twenty-four hours to evacuate these premises before I call a psych ward on
your crazy ass,” Dean Schmick said.
He nodded, agreeing with Schmick.
As Schmick turned around, Marcel
heard him mumble, “Fucking scientists.”
He disregarded the comment, running
into his lab with haste.
Calista, all wide-eyed, knew something
was up. “Dad, are you okay? You’re breathing is
very rapid.”
“I’m fine. But, we are not. I warned the
city on what was supposed to be a televised interview with the Mayor’s son.”
“Huh?”
“But, first, Emily,” he said, placing his
hand on her shoulder, “I am so sorry for all of
this. Especially in your condition.”
“What are you talking about? What
condition am I in?” Emily’s hand shook over her
chest.
“Being pregnant is hard enough. Now,
I’ve added more stress to your agenda.”
Calista gasped. “You’re pregnant?”
Nick corrected her. “No. She’s not. She
just didn’t want to insult Marcel by correcting
him. But, unlike me, she actually cares whether
or not she is risking making that person look
stupid.”
Marcel furrowed his brow. “What is he
saying?”
“Exactly how it sounds,” she said with a
shrug.
“Whew!” Marcel squealed. “Well, then I
guess you’re able to help me pack up and move.”
“Pack?” Calista intervened. She eyed
the amount of things strewn through the office,
and grimaced in a way that suggested she didn’t
particularly feel like sorting out everything.
Marcel nodded, almost grinning, as
Calista rolled her eyes in a disagreement to participate. “Anyone know of some place safe we
can go? Fledge-free preferably.”
Maddie rose from her seat. “I know of a
place.”
“Where?”
“New Haven,” she said. She wiggled her
finger between her and Emily. “Our mom lives
there. She, and the town, are Fledge-free.”
“You told mom?” Emily couldn’t believe
her blabbermouth sister. But her anger quickly
sizzled as Maddie reminded her why it was for
the best.
“She owns more vendors there than the
town Mayor. She better knows everything,” she
said, crossing her sister with a scowl, scrunched
up, nose.
Emily waited for her sisters’ patent signature move of sticking her tongue out when
proving to be right. At a shockingly advancement from her sister, she refrained from doing
so in Emily’s face. But, once Emily turned away,
she proceeded with her childish antics. “Nick,
could you hold onto this for me?” she said,
handing him the purple device.
He nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he said, placing it into his coat pocket.
She turned to Marcel. “Will this vaccine
surely work? I mean… I do not doubt you.”
“You should worry. Because I lowered
the vaccine’s potency. It is only a temporary
mixture, giving you a fifty-fifty chance at prevention. I am unable to make it stronger without further testing it to ensure its safety.”
“How long does it last?”
“A week, maybe two.”
“How can we know for sure?”
“You can always let Calista take a
chomp at you,” he chuckled.
Emily gave him a scowled look, cutting
his laughter into a short, stifled, chuckle.

In the midst of Marcel packing his belongings, he heard three, disturbing, bangs on
his door.

He stared at Calista, who was standing
comfortably beside Nick. “Help would be nice,”
he grunted. “Could you get the door?”

Calista shook her head in response.
Another set of bangs hit the steel door.
“Go away! We are very busy in here,”

“It’s me. Grant Daly. You interviewed,
heh, umm, well we talked this morning.”
“Okay. Now go away. Leave us be.”
“Will you just let me talk?”
“You just did talk. Now, go.”
“I believe you!” Grant said. “I may be of
some help.”
Marcel stood by the door, hesitant to
answer it.
“Let me in. I can see your shadow beneath the door. Please?” Grant begged.
Marcel shifted his foot back. He didn’t
know what to expect from him. “How can you
help?”
“Open the door, and I will explain.”
Calista patted his shoulder. “Just let
him in. He
is
the Mayor’s son, after all. There
may be some truth to what he is saying.”
Marcel eyed her precariously, thinking,
‘
oh, now you move’
. But, he didn’t say a word to
her about that. He just heaved out a heavy sigh.
“Fine,” he said, and followed by opening the
door. Before allowing Grant inside, he doublechecked down the halls to make sure no one had
followed him.
Marcel’s stomach tightened at the sight
of Grant’s crooked smile. He turned back to his
box of things, on his desk, and pretended to ignore Grant’s presence. But, he wanted to know
why he is here. “Speak,” he said to Grant.
“What you said this morning is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
Marcel slammed down a few first edition science books on his desk. “No. From my
findings, when one is changed into a Fledge the
only thing that changes on them is their thirst
for blood versus water, or soda even.”
“Hmmm,” Grant hummed, studying
Marcel’s tight facial expression. “What do you
mean from your findings?”
“Calista, and Nick, over there,” he
pointed, “are both Fledges. They bite flesh, they
eat blood, but they are just as normal as you or
me.”
“The mass murders downtown, are they
related to what’s going on here?”
Marcel nodded, dropping his eyes from
Calista.
“That will work. Listen, I’ll let you make
more of those vaccines. I’ll put out a public notice adding to the validity of your statement.”
He raised his gaze, with a half-grin.
“Thank you. But, why?”
Grant turned around, waving his hand
in the air. Before leaving, he stopped. “There is
no reason for more people to die. We’ll be lucky
if the CDC doesn’t close this place down.”
The graveness in his voice left Marcel
with a deep shudder. He knew innocent people
were perishing or changing, but to have someone actually say it made it all too real for him.
He swept the room with his eyes, realizing the
feeling was mutual.
He went over to the sink, opening the
cabinet above it. He pulled out a case of vials. “I
will need help carrying these out to my car.”
Nick chuckled, crossing his arms at the
three cases on Marcel’s desk. “That’s it?”
Marcel smiled. “No,” he said, turning to
the closet in the back corner of the lab. He
clicked on the light, illuminating the dark space
with fluorescent lighting. “These, too.”
Nick’s eyes widened as he realized what
he was looking at. “Whoa! When did you do
this?”
“Last night, when you guys left down
the hall to eat in Emily’s lab.”
“Dad, why didn’t you tell Grant about
these?”
“Well, dear, there is something I should
have taught you a long time ago.”
“What?”
“To not trust
anyone
.”
“Well, that’s kind of grim. Don’t you
think? To live a life not being able to trust people is just sad.”
“In this case, it is better to be sad and
safe rather than happy only to become bitter after being stabbed in the back by the person you
would take a bullet for.”
“What do you mean?”
“After that announcement is made, we
will be hunted. The people who came up with
this will want to kill us for trying to fix their mistake.”
More than anything, Calista didn’t want
to be seen as a mistake in her Fathers’ eyes.
Even though that is not what he meant, she
couldn’t help but view herself as one. But, didn’t
want this announcement to get out of hand.
“Then, why tell people?”
“Because the good people of America,
or what is left of them, have a right to know.
They have a right to be protected.”
“Don’t forget, they have a right to fight
for their freedom,” Nick said. “Honestly, not allowing someone to die when it is their time, is
taking away the one thing given to us; freewill.”
“Emily, do you still have that television
in your lab?” Marcel said, locking the closet
shut.
“Yeah.”
“I want to see if Mister Daly is telling
the truth. It’s on the Public Announcement
Channel, right?”
“Yep. Channel six?” she asked rhetorically.
“Good.”
•••
Grant Daly steadily made his way to the podium. He felt unsure how exactly this press
meeting would go, but knew exactly what he
needed to say. No matter how silly it made him
sound to the public.
The clatter of recorders turning on and
paper rustling sounded amongst the insistent
chatter of the reporters from various news stations. His stance became firm while he nudged
his tie a bit loose. He couldn’t stand the talking
at once. “Please, calm down. One question at a
time.”
A lady, near the front, took a stand.
“Despite the radicle Doctor Johnston, were you
able to get the job?”
“Yes. Any other questions?”
She sat down, and the man next to her
raised up. “Piggybacking off of her question,
why did Doctor Johnston have a mental breakdown? Will he be institutionalized?”
“No he will not.”
A man, in the back of the crowd yelled
out of his turn. “Was he telling the truth about a
government facilitated breed that was created?”
Grant choked at the question. Everyone
fell silent, awaiting his response. He patted
sweat from his forehead as he answered. “A new
species, called the Fledges, have indeed been
created. I think so, at least.”
The noise raised above an octave his
ears could handle. He quickly stepped down,
rushing out of the building. People in the lobby
watched what just happened, and mumbled
profanities about Grant and his obvious lunacy
in contributing to the assertion Marcel made
publicly that morning.
•••
Marcel clicked on the remote, turning off the
television. He rose from his chair, so angry that
if her were a cartoon character steam would roll
out his ears in small puffs of clouds. “Some validity that gives us!”
Calista slammed her back in her chair.
“Heh. Now I know what you mean, when you
said to not trust anyone.”
Nick watched as the sky turned into a
deep purplish-orange. “Do you think anyone
will believe it?”
“With a little faith, maybe,” Marcel
said, assuring himself more than anything. Believing in the possibility of it actually working
comforts him. As absurd as it may seem, it
worked. But he knew doubting it wouldn’t make
it happen any faster. He realized what needs to
be done; to take action.
“Before shit gets any worse, I’m leaving,” Nick said, tossing his leather coat over his
shoulders.
Emily blinked at him, pursing her lips
defiance. “What? No, you are not.”
He opened the door. “I’m not going to
just sit around here waiting to be killed. I’m going. Goodbye.”
She shook her head, not wanting to believe what just happened. “So, shit gets worse,
and then he abandons us?” she said. Turning to
her shoulder, she whispered to herself, “
Then I
guess it was a good idea to leave him behind six
years ago.
”
“What was that, sis?” Maddie said.
She just shrugged. “Nothing.”
Calista appeared rather glad he left.
“Good riddance. His cologne smelt terrible. It
smelt like he rolled in pile of wood sprinkled
with random seasonings.”
Emily raised her brow. “You seemed to
be enjoying earlier.”
“Yeah, well, that was before he said he
doesn’t do relationships. Only one night
stands.”
Giggling at Calista, she turned her gaze
to the door. Inside, she frowned, loving the
smell of his cologne.
I can’t believe he stuck with
that scent. It’s been six years, and the one thing
that didn’t change was that.
“You want us to put the last few boxes
in your car?” Maddie broke Emily’s trance.
His face twisted awry. “Nah. They gave
me until nine in the morning to clear out. I’m
going to milk the shit out of their facilities. Besides, I haven’t paid my heat bill for three
months now.”
Maddie furrowed her brows, and
scrunched her nose. She couldn’t fathom as to
why he would like to be cold all of the time. Assuming that was his reasoning, and not because
he was poor or anything. She didn’t want to
sound snobby. With a sweet voice, she decided
to ask him. “Why?”
Calista laughed, answering for him. “He
always worked, worked, worked. He might as
well have lived here. But you and Emily are
more than welcome to go home. I’m going to
stay with my dad.”
Emily side-hugged Calista. “We will
stay as well. We need to stick together.”
“Do you think anyone believes this?”
Nick, who stood against the half-equationfilled, whiteboard, spoke softly. His brows knitted together when he was met with stony silence.
•••
Trees circled around Brinks and Carlson, as the
gravel crunched beneath their feet. They made
their way towards a black sedan. The moonlight
beamed off the window, slowly disappearing as
the driver side window cracked open. Behind
the tinted window was a man. He was careful to
hide his identity.
Brinks stood exactly three feet away, as
instructed by him once before. “Boss,” she said.
“Agent Brinks. Good to see you,” he
said. His voice, deep as honey, and smooth as
silk, would make any woman swoon. But Brinks
was not one of those women. “Who is that man
with you?”
“Our new accomplice, Agent Jack Carlson.”
“Good. I just wanted to check up on our
garden of Red Fates.”
“They are exactly what we hoped they
would be.”
“How is Doctor Johnston?”
“I believe he succeeded in Project
Fledge. But, he announced earlier of creating a
vaccine as well.”
“Yes, I have heard.”
“Do I need to dispose of him?”
“No. Steal the vaccines. I’ll deal with the
rest.” The engine revved, and his tires kicked up
rocks as he sped off.
Confused, Carlson wanted to know
whom exactly he anticipated on answering to.
“Who was that?”
“You deaf? I called him Boss, now
didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
“No ‘’,” she said, cutting him off.
“He is called
‘Boss’
. Besides, asking questions is
the last thing you want to start doing.”