The Fledge Effect (7 page)

She laughed, and then he pushed her
through the door. She leaned back against the
wall. He locked the door, shrugged his coat free
from his shoulders, and placed his holster with
his coat on the rack next to the door. His face,
red with rage, began to cool.

"Take a joke old man,” she said, in her
normal tone. She fiddled with her necklace,
pulling from between her breasts. Her shirt
rode low, bearing her sun-kissed shoulders. Her
hair, long and curly, layered behind her in a
half-braid.

Red
,
my favorite color
, he noticed.
Despite how annoying she was to him;
he couldn’t deny his baser urges as a man. What
he desires most from an attractive female, is her
spunk.
The feistier, the better
, he thought.
He inched close to her ruby lips. “I hate how you
talk back to me in front of them guys.”
She grinned. “In a field where I am only surrounded by men, I have to seem tough enough
to not be fucked with.”
He inhaled her perfume from her neck.
“What about just fucked?”
“By them? Hell no,” she giggled. “I
mean, yeah, they are cute, but scrawny guy
number one and muscles guy number two are
not what I like.” She looked Myers up and down.
“I like my men
just right
.”
“Is that right?” he said, brushing his
nose against her cheek.
Her heart pounded as her hands shook.
“Y-yeah.” Slowly, she could feel her inhibitions
lower around him. She felt…
Hot
. “Yes sir.”
“Hmmm.” He groaned as his lips met
the base of her neck.
She intertwined her fingers through his
short hair, bringing his face up to hers. She felt
the soft, warm, press of his lips against hers. He
jabbed his tongue in her mouth, shoving his
hand down her pants. She moaned, forcing herself to hold back.
It’s been so long,
she thought,
since I felt this.
His hand, wet with warmth, pulled
away and unbuttoned her jeans. They dropped
to the floor without a struggle, as she undid his.
With one hand, he held her wrists
above her head, making her breath louder as he
caressed a breast inside his mouth. He flicked
his tongue lightly against her nipple. She shivered, and then said, “
Oh my god
!”
His lips curled at her enthusiasm. Grabbing her thigh, he lifted her leg around his waist.
It was soft in his grasp, making something else
harder. She threw her other leg up, wrapping
her ankles together. “Come on, let’s get this going,” she panted, rubbing against his stiff manhood.
Mmm,
either she thought, someone
forgot about a spare gun, or he really wants this.
For years, she always found him sexy.
But, not once, did she ever think he felt the same
about her.
He squeezed her thigh harder, dropping her arms to grab the other thigh as he entered depths of her that made him shake. Her
stomach, tight with tension, relaxed the deeper
he pressed against it.
He wrapped his hands around her
waist, slowly dropping her to the ground. He
ripped off her shirt, exposing a silken brassier.
It was pink, with white lace, and unsnapped in
the front. He didn’t hesitate freeing them from
their soft imprisonment. She raised her legs,
propping them upon his broadened shoulders,
and continued to rip the buttons off his shirt.
She ran her fingers through the hair on his
chest, and said, “
Deeper
!” into his ear.
He grunted, filling her need to be
pleased. The one thing he is known for is that he
never leaves a woman unsatisfied. No matter
how long it could take.
He kissed her harder, yanking her hair
of its braid. She winced, guiding his hand to do
it once more. The pain transcended throughout
her, making the sensation of him inside her feel
unimaginably amazing.
She wrapped her hands around his
head, forcing him back on her breasts. It made
him faster in movements, deeper, and made her
unable to hold back her loud moans that escaped through her lips. They increased in volume as he swung his hips harder in between
hers. He cuffed her mouth, as he slid his lips
onto hers, filling her mouth with the soft
warmth of his swirling tongue. She could only
imagine what type of
damage
it could do if used
lower. Then, he did go lower.
“
Jesus Fucking Christ
!” she gasped,
trying to catch her breath.
Muffled moans could be heard outside
the office. David grinned uncontrollably at
George. “Sounds like he is giving her a good
pounding
.”
George threw his clipboard at him.
“Shut up!”
David still couldn’t help but laugh. He
patted his knee. “I wonder what her walk of
shame looks like.
Heh-he
.” His laugh was highpitched, and it made George’s ears hurt. He
placed ear buds in, and blared music through
them.
David shook his head, grinning like a
fool, as he tapped away on his keyboard. “You
know,” he said, “there is sure-fire team I am
thinking on betting on. Maybe a dime.”
George stared heavily at him. “Make
that bet, I’ll save you the trouble and just steal
your money.”

The sun, warmer than yesterday, beamed down.
Guns blazed in the distant air as rows of
militant guards tested the latest weapon machinery produced by Brinks; the M6 machine
gun, and the .308 sniper rifle were remodeled to
shoot not only bullets made of steel, but also
bullets filled with the CBH virus. Designed to
penetrate and release its effects upon the victim.
“Are these necessary?” Carlson tightened his hands into a close-knit grip behind his
back as he eyed his partner with caution.
Her porcelain complexion and baby blue eyes
failed to fool him as, he supposes, they have
done with her past male colleagues. “Agent
Brinks?”
“Shhh,” she hushed. “I heard you.”
He cleared his throat. “Well?”
Her eyes darted back towards him. “For
my plan, it is quite necessary.”
“What exactly was your plan again?” he
half-joked, concerned about the realism of this
said plan.
“To build a newer world; a better world.
A nation that will never fall.”
Brinks smiled with a menace that sent chills
down his back. “Oh,” he gasped.
She twirled an empty bullet casing between her fingers. “Besides, I have a man working on the other part to my plan. He will give me
what I need to fill this. Doctor Johnston. You
may have heard about him.”
“What is that?” he said, pointing at the
flexible casing.
“A bullet designed to disintegrate once
in contact with blood. It will then allow the contents inside to seep through its victim’s bloodstream.”
“Right. The man who won a Nobel Prize
and gained tenner ship at the University, wasn’t
he wrongfully accused of his wife’s death, but
was then found innocent? How are you sure he
is still working on it? Who is to say he didn’t
trash the idea?”
She giggled. “Because, I told him if he
doesn’t make it, and then test it, Calista will
know the real reason for her Mother’s death.”
“His Daughter?”
“Yes,” she affirmed.
“Okay, then.”
“We have to leave. We’re going on a
short trip.”
“Where?” his curiosity peaked, as her
demeanor changed from a proud stance to a
concerning slouch.
She quickly stood with her back stiffened and shoulders squared, clearing her
throat. “Like you were insinuating, we need to
make a visit.”
“Are we going to do actual detective
work for once?”
“Only if it pertains to this project.” She
clicked the door handle, and swung open the car
door with force. “Now come on.”
He hoped in the seat next to hers. In
one swift motion, she shut the door, started the
engine, and drove out of the lot. Carlson barely
had enough time to shut his own door. He
spoke, deepening his voice, “Why only this project? I’m sure the director,
our boss
, would love
for us to the job we were hired to do.”
“What is that, exactly?” she said, darting her eyes towards him in one quick glance.
He cleared his throat. “Protecting the
people within our district. Not here, in Middletown.”
She smiled a tight-lipped grin. “The director doesn’t mind.
We are
protecting people.
Technically.”
He sucked his lips in, making a clicking
noise as he released them. “How so? By giving
them a type of
immunity
?”
“Yes,” she said, swiftly.
Her honeyed tone rang with ease in his ears. He
felt she honestly believed that she was doing
good, Samaritan-like work. But, he doubted her
motives, if any at all.
What does she gain from
all of this?
He fought to ask, but the question
remained thick in his mind.
“What about Director Jones? What does he
have to say about this severe involvement in this
project?”
“He was the one that suggested it to go through.
He loved the idea.”
•••
Back at the lab, Marcel fiddled swiftly throughout his notes. Attempting to determine if there
was indeed a way to reverse the effects of the
CBH experiment.
With Calista hollering in the background, his focus would never fail to derail from
the problem at hand. “Shhh, I know. I will find
a way to get the pain to stop.”
He hoped Emily isn’t having to deal
with this same issue. There was no doubt in his
mind that she would soon have to get a cage for
him as well.
Down the hall, Nick sat in Emily’s silver
lab chair. He tapped his foot against the tile
causing a repetitive clicking noise that appeared
to make Emily become irate. He noticed her
scrunched nose and scowl, stopping his notion
of short patience.
“So, uh, about Lucy. Do you think she
will, well, you know?”
“What? Be okay?” Emily shook her
head to his nodding. “You say nothing to me, on
our way up here, but you are able to ask about
your
girlfriend
?” a twinge flickered in her heart
at the thought of them together.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
She tossed her hair back into a low bun,
twisting the curls into a neat mess. “Honestly, I
don’t think so.”
“She could be like me. Whatever I am.
Isn’t that how most diseases happen? You
spread them around.”
Emily scoffed at his lack of belief in her
intellectuality. “Yes, but I am not entirely sure
what you are suffering from. Besides, you decapitated her. I have never seen someone survive that.”
He scanned the room, examining the
plaques and awards that were scrawled across
the wall behind her desk. “This is your lab slash
office? Couldn’t have them separate?”
“Yeah, I know. I want them separate,
but the University’s funding is tight at the moment.”
“Ah.”
She grabbed a needle from her desk,
and inched her way towards him. “I’m going to
draw some blood for Doctor Johnston.”
He chuckled.
Emily snapped her gaze up to his.
“What?”
He rubbed his mouth, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he said, concealing his smile.
She placed the sharp tip against his
cooled skin, and then pressed down. A crack
echoed through the air, signaling the breakage
of the steel. “Shit.”
Her eyes drew up to his, as she sensed
his gaze down upon her. “You knew?”
He paused, before answering, to catch
his breath. “Yeah.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed through her
lips. She couldn’t help but assume the worst.
She raised an eyebrow, taunting him with assumptions.
“What?” he asked. “It’s not… I didn’t
find out doing
that
. Okay? If that is what you are
thinking.”
Her bangs waved against her warmed
cheeks. “Fine. But, no.”
“Then what?” he inquired.
“Nothing.” she satirized, plucking a hair
from his scalp.
The force of her strength surprised him.
Yet, he did not flinch. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” she grinned, turning to
the microscope on the desk behind her.
Nick sighed, pulling his gaze away from
her back. His eyes drew to a picture on her desk
that disturbed him more than it should; Emily
and Hank’s wedding photo. Hank wore his exMarine uniform in the frame next to it. The
sight made him want to hurl across the room, as
if he were part of an exorcism. “How is married
life?”
Her eyes fell heavy down to the diamond band on her finger. Twisting it around her
finger, she sighed. “Fine. But, why do you say it
like that?”
“Don’t know.” he shrugged. “Just do.”
“Right.” Emily continued gazing into
the small black piece of the microscope. The
hair follicle shown spiked, star-shaped cells.
“You know. You are a bit tamer than Calista.”
“Calista Johnston?” he knowingly inquired.
“You know her?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Isn’t she a chubby
gal?”
She pierced him with a sinister stare.
“Not anymore. Not for almost two years, now.”
“Oh.”
“And how do you know her?”
“We dated right before I left for college.”
She rolled her eyes as her heart fluttered at the thought of him seeing her now. Calista developed quite the figure in the last couple
of years that always made Emily envious of her
physique. “Oh.”
Changing the subject, he pointed to
wards her abdomen. “Are you?”
She laughed. “No. Oh God, no. But,
don’t tell Doctor Johnston. He thinks I am.”
“Why not be honest with the old man?”
“He’s been through a lot. I don’t want
him to feel like an idiot or like he is insulting me.
That would be awkward.”
“Wouldn’t not having a baby make it
even more awkward?”
“Uh, well, I’m hoping to be gone before
then.”
“Seriously, another job change?”
“Well, Hank—”
He cut her off. “Should have known.
You leave just about anything for him, don’t
you?”
She faced her reflection in the blank
monitor and bit her bottom lip, fighting back
the urge to till him the truth. Instead, she came
up with something better sounding. “I’m thinking about moving back to my home town. Hank
transferred to Amherst PD.”
Nick despised that idea more than she
did. However, he cannot force someone to do
anything. No matter if he still loved that particular person. “Oh. So, what are those?” he
pointed towards the two small shrubs under a
sun lamp. Three red bulbs protruded through
the unusual blue leaves. Their unique appearance peaked his curiosity.
She turned to follow his gaze, and then
shrugged. “Unsure. Marcel—I mean Doctor
Johnston, had me grow these weird star-shaped
seeds to see what type of climate they thrive in.”
“And…” he pushed.
“You, of all people, care about this?”
“Sure. A person can change.”
“Okay… Well, so far they have been
proven to thrive in almost every climate.”
“Almost?”
“I am testing dry summer heat at the
moment. And they are doing very well.”
“What are they called?”
“
Red Fates
.”
He studied their appearance closer.
“Have you tried one yet?”
She twirled the golf ball sized fruit between her fingers. “No. Doc told me specifically
to not eat one. That they are part of his experiment.” Emily unhooked the lamp and carried it
to Nick.
He became puzzled as she clasped the
silver lamp tight with a smile. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory I had.”
The direct light surprised him, robbing
him of his sight. His eyes were quick to adjust,
but his temper rose. “Stop!”
“How are you feeling?”
“Hungry, and angry.”
She snapped the light off. “How about
now?”
His grip tightened on the arms of the
chair. “No change.”
“Hmmm,” Emily hummed. She pulled a
ripe fruit off the shrub and handed it to him.
“Try this.”
“I need blood.”
“Just pretend it is. Besides, whatever
happened to you is what happened to Calista.
And she was part of the same experiment these
fruits were a part of.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. He took a
small bite out of the Red Fate, feeling a warming
sensation ooze down his chin. “It’s blood!”
“Are you sure?” she grabbed the other
half. Inside of it was a pool of red liquid surrounding a star-shaped seed. She placed the
seed on her desk, and took a small sample of the
liquid under her microscope.
“What do you see?”
“Red blood cells. But…”
“What?”
“They’re perfectly healthy and multiplying fast,” she said, turning the dial on the microscope. “They are stable as well.”
The tiny green lumps, on the plant, suggested
promising growth. She filled the plant with
more fertilizer, as Nick slowed down his pace
with the fruit.
“One bite filled me.” He dropped his
hands in his lap. “What does this mean?”
“It means whoever had Doctor Johnston on this CBH experiment has a bigger plan
in mind.”
Later, Emily decided to leave work, and
head home. She couldn’t tolerate another second of Nick’s condescending voice. He has his
pleasant moments, but even through those
times, he would glare at her as if he wanted to
slap her stupid.
She knew trying to be friends with an ex
would be almost impossible, but she tried. She
sure the hell as attempted to mend that burnt
bridge she set ablaze to. But, to her, it seemed
as if all he wanted to do was throw more gasoline on their past.
Marcel tried to stop her, as she left the
building. But she assured him, it was for a good
cause. Mainly because she had, gotten hungry
watching Nick eat. She explained to him that if
she didn’t eat soon, then she would surely keel
over and underperform her work.
Besides,
she thought,
I want to see how
common those seeds are.
They weren’t anything
she has ever seen before. But, maybe she just
hasn’t bothered noticing them before, if she had
seen them. She was determined to find out.
•••
George rolled out their weapons mat on a metal
slabbed table. He placed silencers on all the
guns; he had just assembled shortly after receiving Myers’ email. David walked up to him, whistling at all the metal. George threw his arm up,
in front of him, blocking his grabby hands.
Rachel picked one up, examining its
long neck. She held it out in front of her, aiming
it at the picture of their next victim. “Wonder
why he don’t want us to kill her?” she said,
squinting an eye towards the tip of the barrel. “I
think he knows her.”
George grunted, and sighed. “It’s best
to not question our duties.”
David agreed, and then looked at
George. “But, did he even clue us in on her
whereabouts?”
He nodded, tossing down a purple device. “He also wants us to never lose her whereabouts.”
“With a phone?” Rachel scoffed.
“A tracking device,” George corrected.
David rubbed his two palms together.
“So, where do we go?”
George cocked back a gun. “Her house.”
“But, what if she isn’t alone? In order to
kill a person, you have to have zero witnesses.”
George glared at Rachel. “
Again
. We
are not killing her!”
“Right, right. No. We are just taking her
chances of ever conceiving a child. That is
so
much better
,” David said.
Rachel nodded. “A life like that. I’d
want
to be dead.”
He rolled their weapons mat back up,
clicked the buttons to secure it, and loaded it up
into one of the black jeeps. He placed on his
mask, along with Rachel. David, however,
sighed at the mask. He fiddled with it in his
hands.
George slammed the door shut. “What
now?”
“It’s just,” David, sighed, “I really
wanted to wear super hero masks. Not
ski
masks.”
“Hey,” George bellowed, “we let you
come up with the name.
David nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, it is a
pretty bad ass name.”
“Bad, yes,” Rachel smiled. “Bad-ass?
No,” she said, laughing.