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Finn Maisy studied the garage intently, careful to miss no details. The planning was always the hard part. The outside of the garage was a white stucko with two inches of steel in between the inner and outer walls. It was totally enclosed save for some bullet proof windows. It was a fairly new structure with an elevator at both ends. It joined a skyscraper on Finn's left, and next to the elevator at that end was a door opening to a hall with bullet proof walls and windows that led to the tower. The tower was the main office of the Chicago Tribune.
Now, how to make it look like an accident? A broken elevator cable? Nah. The buildings are too new. What about an everyday street mugging? Hire some punks to do it. Hmm, no, they'd reveal sources for enough money, and it would create a lot of suspicion as far as this job goes. Finn opened up his leather sportbag and eyed the contents, fingering each one carefully. His hand stopped on one and he pulled it out. Yes . . . definitely yes. Now it's a matter of identification and planting. His job was close to completion.
Troy Rollins hung up the phone in exultation. "Yes!" he exclaimed. His nearby colleagues looked up, startled, but soon lost interest and went back to work. Rollins grabbed a nearby piece of scratchpaper and scribbled a few notes to himself. He was slight of build, about five three, with curly blond hair and hazel eyes. He appeared too thin, and he had an unhealthy pallor in his cheeks, but right now his face beamed. This was a great lead, and he was amazed that he was the only one, he hoped, that had it right now: the vice president accepting illegal funds for the president, and he came of a somewhat unknown background. According to Troy's references, he was hiring deaths to cover up the illegal funds, and maybe a few other . . . interesting activities. Now, if only if could back his sources and validate some of this material.
He stood and grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to do some research.
Elisa heard the slight tap on the door and almost dropped her glass of water, then ran to the front door. She was disappointed when she opened it, though, because nobody was there. Then she looked down. There was the cup she had taken to the forest two days before. She picked it up and examined it closely, but found nothing unusual, except that it was slightly bent out of shape. She turned and closed the door slowly, then leaned against it, thinking. Who was this strange creature, this Eldwon, and where did he come from?
If only Daniel was still alive. He was so good at connecting seemingly unrelated things that, nine times out of ten, ended up being linked. Well, I suppose there's no use crying over spilt milk.
Eldwon walked swiftly but silently over to a side of the house where he knew there were no windows and jumped down. It had been a fool thing to do, returning the cup. His wing wasn't yet healed so couldn't fly, and he could have been spotted on the roof. Still, he couldn't say he was wasn't at all glad that he had returned it either, and he wasn't as worried now as he had been when he had first woken up in this strange world. He was beginning to believe that this Eliza was the only one of her kind, for he had seen no others anywhere around. Of course, there was some sort of path that led near her house, and an adjoining path that went right to it, and he didn't think she made them. Perhaps they were just relics of an earlier age which was more glorious and golden for these . . . creatures. Oh well. At least now I've found a stream to drink from.
Jack Willer opened his eyes slowly. He felt a little numb and uncoordinated, but that was probably just the tail end of the anesthetic.
He looked around his hospital room after most of the fog in his eyes cleared. It was a typical, in-patient hospital room. He looked at his hands. The flesh was slightly different in some places, apparently where skin had been grafted. There were grafts on his arms, too, and a few on his legs. He couldn't find a mirror to see his face, so he buzzed for a nurse, then closed his eyes and waited patiently.
The nurse came in a few minutes later. "Yes?"
"Can you get me a mirror?" The nurse hesitated a moment, apparently debating whether or not it was a wise idea. Finally she consented.
Jack looked into the small mirror the nurse had gotten him. His expression was bland, his feelings pretty much the same. Jack had learned to cope with set-backs and being the nerd, or at least being out of place. This was no different. Well, I guess this is permanent. No matter. It won't make any difference to my work. My only concern ins that my vision is still a little . . . foggy around the edges I guess. "Nurse, do you have any idea whether or not the anesthetic that was used would have any affect on my vision?"
"I don't think so, but it really depends upon the person and the anesthetic. Different people have different side affects, but from what I remember, none of the sedatives that we use have ever had an effect on vision. Why, are you experiencing difficulties with your sight?"
"Only a little. I'm sure it's nothing."
"I'm going to report this to the doctors."
"No, please. I'm all right, really. It's getting better now, I promise. I'm okay."
"I don't know," said the nurse reluctantly, "I think I'm still going to report this.""No . . . really, I'm okay."
"Are you sure?" she asked. Jack nodded his head. "Well . . . all right. But you be sure to notify us if it comes back."
"I will. I promise." The nurse gave him one last, long look, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving the mirror with Jack.
It's ironic how some promises are broken practically before you make them, thought Jack. He didn't know what was wrong with his eyes, and it wasn't getting any better, but it wasn't getting any worse, and unless it did, he wasn't going to have a doctor look at it. He had been afraid of doctors since he was a child, and even though he was grown now, he still had a healthy suspicion of them. Or in some cases, an unhealthy suspicion.
Troy was so intent on the information on the computer screen that he didn't hear his colleague, Ron, walk up. He jumped when Ron spoke. "So you've got a big story coming?"
Rollins took a deep breath before answering to calm his startled nerves. "Yeah, it could turn into something."
"Well, keep digging, that's all I've got to say," said the twelve year veteran to Rollins, a rookie of a year and a half. Ron had sort of taken Troy under his wing."Don't worry, I plan on it." As Ron Howard started to walk away, Troy suddenly had an idea. "Hey Ron, do you remember a House member by the name of Daniel Searle?"
"Daniel Searle? Isn't he the one that got in a year or so before the president, which would be about four years ago, who died in a car accident just before he could start his second term in the House?"
"That's the one."
"Well, I remembered that much. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." Ron gave Troy a funny look, then turned to walk out of the cubicle.
As he was walking out, he said, almost as an afterthought, "Strange car wreck at bizarre timing, wasn't it?" With that he left.
Now what was that supposed to mean? That doesn't make sense at all. A car wreck? What did he mean by- Troy sat upright abruptly. He stood up and grabbed his keys and coat, then raced to the elevator. Time for a field trip.
Finn put a dab of a special, quick drying, odorless glue on the piece of the steering column he had cut away several minutes before. He carefully placed it in its original position and held it there for a count of five.
Maisy stood from the crouched position he was in, locked the door, and shut it quietly, only then taking the gloves off his hands. He took his small bag of tools and sauntered to the elevator at the end opposite the skyscraper. There was an exit there two floors down that he could use. The entrances and exits for the cars were much like the garage doors at most homes, only bullet proof and regulated by guards. Reporters lately had been getting concerned for their safety.
As the elevator doors were closing, Finn saw a man walk out of the hall at the other end and he smiled. There was his target.
The elevator reached the bottom floor and he coolly stepped out and walked out the exit, apparently not caring that he was within view of the guards. He had learned that boldness, in some cases, worked best. He got into his car which was waiting outside. It was a slightly older gray Honda Accord. He always preferred something that wouldn't attract attention when he was on business. Now all he had to do was wait.
Troy got into his three-year-old Pontiac Grand Am. It started easily, and he drove down the ramps to the ground level. He waved at the guards as he passed. Life was good. His car ran, except for the air conditioning, he had a big story coming, and if that happened, he had a possible pay raise.
I think I'll start with the Library. Then maybe I can be more specific and get access to some of the available government files on computer. What I've got as it is isn't too bad, though. But I have a feeling that it just skims the surface. Besides, there's not enough backed by fact for a story . . . yet. Hopefully, though, this trip can change at least some of that.
The clouds were black and ominous, ready to heave forth their contents as Eldwon clutched his stomach in agony and dry heaved again and again, on his knees and rocking back and forth as he did so. It had been like this ever since he had woken up about an hour ago. His wing, at least, was doing just fine. Already a clear, filmy membrane stretched over the hole, and it was beginning to fill in. He could almost fly with it. His arm was healing nicely too. But now this.
He stood up after the spell passed, then leaned again a tree as he began to black out. His vision cleared and he stumbled through the forest, holding his stomach, as he headed for the one place he thought might bring some relief. He stopped and heaved again, then started on. I've got to make it.
Elisa looked up from her book, trying to place the sound that she had heard over the light rain that had just started. It had been a sort of whump, like something had dropped on her wooden porch. She got up slowly from her walking chair and began walking to the door. She sped up more and more as she thought of what, or who, might be there until she was running. She unbolted the locks hurriedly, then stopped for a moment and composed herself. Only then did she allow herself to open the door, and she opened it cautiously. She took a deep breath when she saw Eldwon lying on the porch, apparently unconscious.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, debating, then reached down and hooked her arms through the upper portion of his, careful not to touch either of his wounds, and dragged him into the house and over to a couch. He was too heavy for her to lift him onto it, so she left him beside it.
Running to her room, she grabbed the blanket from her bed, then ran back to Eldwon and placed the blanket over him, and locked the front door again.What to do, what to do? I can't call the hospital to try and find out because they'll probably want to bring him in, and that wouldn't be good, at least for him. But it's not like I can just call the vet either. Rightly speaking, he's not exactly an animal. She wheeled quickly when she heard a sound. There was Eldwon, dry heaving again. I wonder if he swallowed some poison somehow or other. Maybe I can try the Poison Control Center. Yes, that's what I'll do.
The phone was only a few yards away and it took no time for Elisa to reach it and hit the speed dial key for the center. "Hello. I have a . . . man here who seems very sick. He was dry heaving just a moment ago, and he seems unconscious right now." There was a pause. "I don't know what he swallowed, if anything. I'm just guessing that it's poison." Another break. "His age? Oh I don't know, probably in his twenties or thirties." Pause. "I know that's a wide age gap, and no I don't know him, well, not really. I've seen him around a little, but we've only ever said a few words to each other." A short break. "Why am I helping him? Because he's a very sick man, that's why." Elisa's face twisted disappointment when the telephone operator on the other end suggested she bring the man in.
"There isn't anything I can do here, then?" She listened to the operator then said, "So if I know what he ingested you can tell me what to do here, unless of course there's nothing for me to do? Good. I'll try and find out." She hung up abruptly.
Oh . . . how am I going to communicate with him? He's unconscious and he speaks a totally different language than I do. At least I know his name. Just then, Eldwon's head turned and his eyes fluttered open. He tried to speak, but couldn't. Elisa wondered if it might be because of thirst, so she rushed and got a glass which she then filled with water. "Here," she said, handing it to him.
Eldwon took one look at the water, then threw the cup across the room, spilling it's contents all over the floor. Elisa stared dumbly at the mess, then picked up the glass and put it in the sink. Then she got a rag and began cleaning up the water.Why in the world did he throw the water?
It must have been her. She poisoned the first glass of water she gave me, and now she's trying to make it worse. But there's nothing I can do about it. I'm too weak. I'm at her mercy, but I'll starve myself before I eat any of her food or drink any of her water.
Eliza continued to think as she finished mopping up the spill.Why would he throw- Wait a minute, what if he's been drinking out of the stream? And what if they sprayed for mosquitoes recently? This new poison isn't supposed to affect animals, but nothing has ever been said about humans and humanoids. I wonder. She got up and went to the phone to make a call.
"Yes, I was wondering, has the streambed been sprayed recently for mosquitoes and such? It has? Okay, thanks. Good bye." She hung up the phone.Well, that proved to be easy. Now I need to call the poison control center again. Just as she went to pick up the phone again, the sky was lit up brightly by a flash of lighting, with the thunder so close that it seemed simultaneous with the flash. Something stank outside, overpowering the smell of the rain that was now gushing down in torrents. The stench was of something burnt. Elisa's hair stood on end. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear . . . no sound. Great, just great. The phone is out. Well, there goes that plan. I guess I'll just have to do the best that I can.
After setting the receiver down, she walked to the couch that Eldwon was beside. He lay there, clutching his ears in very apparent and very real agony. Elisa stood with her mouth gaping open in surprise. Now what?
Arrgghh! My ears! My head! They both hurt from that stupid sound. I hate this whole stupid world. Everything is louder, everything more harmful. Of course, the Tilsors would take the cake out of anything I've seen that this world can offer, but with my luck Tilsors live here too. It's a good thing I tuned out some of the louder sounds yesteday, yesterday because even the "normal" things were getting annoyingly loud. If it wasn't for that, I doubt my ears would have survived. The pain subsided in his ears at the same time it grew in his stomach and he dry heaved again.
Elisa looked on worriedly, unsure of what to do. She decided there wasn't anything she could do at present except to wait, and that's what she did. She pulled her rocking chair in from the other room and sat down, alternating between her book and watching Eldwon as he lay huddled in the fetal position.
Any comments? Anything good . . . or bad to say about my writing? =) If you have some thoughts about it,then please, please write me. Let me know what it was that you like, or didn't like, or whateer. =).
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