Alien Roadkill-Dealbreaker Read online

  JB thought she was about thirteen or fourteen, although she had more tats and piercings than you'd expect to see on a person of that age. He grabbed his backpack and moved quickly out the front door of the motel room, reminding himself that she was not his problem. He had plenty of his own.

  "Please! You've gotta help me!" she implored.

  JB kept walking away without answering her. His enhanced hearing had already revealed that someone two doors down had called emergency services. That meant state troopers would be arriving very soon and asking lots of questions, most of which JB didn't want to answer.

  It was late, and the motel parking lot was poorly lit as many of the exterior motel lights were either burnt out or missing. As far as JB could tell, there was no one else outside and if his luck held, he might get away without being seen. Right then, he looked back and saw that the girl was following close behind him.

  He stopped and turned to her, giving her the sternest look he could muster. “Cops'll be here in a couple of minutes, I gotta go.”

  "I'm tellin' you the goddamn cops are in on it!" she insisted, still wiping away tears. "CronLab is behind all of this, I know it! An' if they're in on it, so is the sheriff's department… And the state troopers!” Her voice grew louder as she went on. “Hell! They own everything and everybody 'round here!”

  JB shook his head skeptically. ”CronLab? What does a company that makes fertilizer and insect spray have t' do with killin' folks?"

  “I’m not sure, but get me outta here. You can drop me off at the bus station or somethin'. Please, like you said, we're running out of time!" she begged fearfully.

  It’s her problem, he thought. He had intended to shut the door in her face and tear out of there. But that wasn’t what he did. In spite of himself, JB found that there was something in her pleas for help that resonated with him. When it came to stolen childhoods, he was an expert. Moreover, he knew everything about what it was like to be hunted.

  Sensing that he was about to relent, the girl risked a small smile as she stubbornly made her way over to the passenger side door.

  "Mister, please! Just a little ways,” she begged, putting her hand on the door handle.

  When he replied, JB didn't return her smile. "Get in,” he said reluctantly as he entered the truck. “I’ll take y'all as far as the bus station, but really, y’all ain't much safer ridin' with me."

  "Are you shitting me? Any place is safer than here!” she exclaimed in relief, opening the passenger door and climbing onto the front seat.

  "Let's hope y'all are right about that," he replied under his breath.

  JB fired up the truck and exited the parking lot, turning onto the interstate at an unremarkable speed. He didn't want to appear to be fleeing the property, just in case anyone was looking. However, so far, owing to the late hour, they were the only traffic on the road. He also hoped that the motel manager was too sloshed to give anybody a good description of him, but there was no way to be sure of that. Come to think of it, he really wasn't sure about anything.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Man with the Plan

  HARVEY MATTHEWS GOT off of the call that he had made to an acquaintance, who was actually more like a friend of a friend… Several times removed. He knew it had been a risky gambit, but none of that mattered as far as he was concerned. However, the person he had just spoken to on the phone had been completely uncomfortable merely broaching the subject that Harvey wished to discuss. Although Harvey had talked indirectly, relying on hypotheticals and other less thinly veiled references, there was little doubt as to what he was really after.

  The person that he spoke to had at first professed ignorance, and then annoyance and finally, anger. Harvey countered by reminding him in no uncertain terms that as head of CronLab’s Oakwell office he had the power of approval over every local vendor. As it turned out, the man he was speaking with was a lawyer in a firm that counted on CronLab’s monthly retainer check. With that threat he was easily able to coerce a phone number from the man. The lawyer gave Harvey what he wanted, but only on the condition that his name would never be mentioned. The number was several years old, and the lawyer doubted anyone would even answer. All the same, he resented being bullied, and it was something he wouldn’t soon forget.

  The entire time Harvey was speaking on the phone, he had been admiring the stunning gem on his kitchen table. It reflected the sunlight in every color imaginable, shimmering and iridescent as if it were alive. Staring into its depths was an experience that was both rewarding and intoxicating. Just looking at it gave him a sense of comfort, strength and empowerment the likes he had never known. Now, he realized that it had also given him the courage that made it possible for him to do what had to be done.

  Impatiently, Harvey punched in the phone number the lawyer had reluctantly given him. After the fifth ring, someone answered.

  “Do I know you?” the voice on the other end of the call demanded. The voice was metallic and sounded synthetic.

  “My name is unimportant, but I have need of your ser…”

  The loud click made him realize that the other person had hung up on him so he dialed the number again. It rang five or six times before the other party picked up.

  Harvey changed his tact. This time he said, “Two million dollars. Cash. One hundred thousand up front. Cash.”

  Whoever it was on the other end didn’t hang up this time.

  After a long moment of silence the metallic voice spoke.

  “When?”

  The rest of the conversation was short and direct. The person on the other end directed Harvey to download an encrypted messaging app and gave him a screen name to contact for further discussion. Once he had downloaded the app, Harvey texted “Mercman” and received a phone number to what he assumed was a burner phone.

  The next conversation was much longer and more detailed. After assuring Harvey that he could do the job, the man agreed to Harvey’s proposal and terms, although not without some reservations. Harvey had insisted on a cash payout instead of a wire transfer to a foreign bank as Mercman had requested. That point was non-negotiable, a deal breaker, Harvey had said, arguing that he wanted no financial trail left behind.

  When Harvey got off the phone, he was smiling broadly in anticipation. He had never felt so alive! Especially now that he had set in motion a plan that would satisfy both his thirst for revenge and his hunger for wealth. He kept staring at the jewel, and again delighted in the intense emotions that the gem evoked. All of which made it easy for him to ignore his near constant headaches and the occasional nosebleed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Out of the Frying Pan

  THE CHEAP DIGITAL travel clock taped to Ol’ Blue’s dashboard marked the time at three-thirty AM when they finally reached the interstate. Traffic was extremely light and the tense silence in the truck remained unbroken. Neither JB nor the girl had spoken a word to each other since they had left the motel parking lot. He drove in the direction of the nearest town and bus depot intending to part company as soon as possible.

  JB looked over at his passenger, who had been staring out the side window the entire time and figured it was only natural for her to still be in shock. Then, he had to remind himself again that she wasn’t his problem. An random, impure thought about his passenger crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately, ashamed that he had even considered it. But, that led him to consider other things along the same vein. He had never wondered until this moment what would happen if he exchanged bodily fluids, whether though kissing or unprotected sex. Would they bestow the same benefits in someone else’s system they way they had in his? If not, would they be harmful, or even deadly?

  His contemplation was interrupted when several state troopers roared past them, tearing in the opposite direction with screaming sirens and strobing light bars. JB found himself holding his breath as he watched them disappear in his sideview mirror. Then, the girl began to cry softly again. There was a quality to her grief that unlocked
a memory of his, one that he had tried hard to forget.

  It was the day his pappy had told him that his mommy had run off and left them both, although he knew that was a lie. He knew because he had secretly watched as his pappy loaded her body into a skiff and poled off into the swamp to where the ‘gators were. Later that same day, when he was hiding alone in the trailer, he had made those sounds too. Hearing the all too familiar fugue of anguish, terror and grief was weakening his resolve.

  JB thought that there was nothing that he could do, but he felt guilty for his unwarranted musings. So, despite his determination not to become involved with anyone else's troubles, he said, ”I’m sorry about your mom.”

  The girl took a deep breath before she replied. “That wasn't my mom, she was my aunt. My Aunt Maddie. She took me in when I was nine, after Mom got herself arrested."

  JB nodded in acknowledgment, and after several more minutes of silence he gave her another look. In that moment, she appeared so vulnerable that it occurred to him that aside from the piercings and the tats, she might be even younger than he first thought. Somehow that made him feel even worse.

  Maybe he got that impression from the way she was dressed. The denim overalls that she wore on top of a faded yellow T-shirt looked a couple sizes too big and were frayed ragged at the cuffs. The outfit contributed to her waif-like appearance, even though in farm country, overalls with big pockets were routinely worn by everyone from infants to retirees.

  She wore narrow, silver rings on most of her fingers, and there were colored strands of twisted string tied around her wrist that were pushed next to her drug-store electronic watch. She was clasping her knees to her chest, revealing well worn, black high-top tennis shoes.

  He resisted the urge to speak again, telling himself that the last thing he needed was to get himself wrapped up in somebody else's drama. Besides, it was dangerous… For both of them. But, in spite of all his logic, he found that he couldn't help himself. He had to ask.

  “So, why would a big company like CronLab wanna go n’ kill your aunt… An’ y’all?”

  “I’m not ‘xactly sure of why… I just know they did it! For years Maddie worked at CronLab as a secretary or somethin’ and never hardly ever said a word about her job. But, yesterday afternoon she came home early from work, n’ said we had to leave the house right then. She didn’t say why at the time, but when we were driving in the car, she told me that she saw somethin’ at work that she wasn’t supposed t' an’ it freaked her out. I mean, she was totally freaked out! So we didn't even pack, we jus' piled into her car and took off. I thought she was over-the-top crazy… But now, I know she was right.”

  She choked back a sob and said, “I have never seen her so scared. She made me scared too.” With that, she stopped talking and turned her gaze back to the side window once more.

  JB wasn’t sure what to think about her explanation, but before he could decide whether he had asked her too much already, she resumed her story in a halting and shaky voice.

  “Even after all that, we couldn’t get very far because Maddy’s piece of shit Jeep crapped out. We got a tow to a mechanic near the motel, but he had already left for the day and Maddie figured we’d stay over at the motel ‘till morning. That’s how we ended up there.”

  Her lower lip started to quiver, but she continued, “About an hour after we got to the motel room there was a knock on the door.” It took her another moment to collect herself before she spoke again. But her voice cracked and she nearly couldn’t finish her sentence. “Maddy said that she had a bad feelin’ about the tow truck driver, an' made me hide in the closet.”

  Her tears started again, and then in a horse whisper that grew smaller and tighter with every word, she said, “I was hiding when I heard the shots. I heard… Everything… An’ I didn’t do nothing to stop it!” She pounded her knee with her trembling fist, overcome with anger and guilt.

  “How fucked up is that?” she cried.

  “There was nothin’ y’all could’a done or you’d be dead too,” JB said softly.

  “I’ll never get that shit out of my head. Never!”

  “Yeah, y’all will. Takes time,” he lied. So far it hadn’t worked for him. His childhood had left scars in him that even his Sawbonites could never fix. He figured it was going to be the same for her. At least she didn’t have to actually witness the murder.

  After the girl’s sobbing finally stopped, there was silence as the truck continued down along the dark and nearly deserted interstate. When she spoke again, her voice was still shaky.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I need to thank you for saving my life. If you hadn’t killed that man, I would have been next.”

  "I didn't kill him," JB said, emphasizing the word, “I”.

  “What are you talking about?" she said, sounding confused. "He sure didn't die all by himself, did he?”

  “I migh’a had somethin’ to do with it,” JB admitted. “But he got hit by his own bullet.” After an awkward silence, he continued. “There ain’t no denyin’ that somethin’s goin’ on, but CronLab is a real big company. Seems they got a whole lot to lose if they get caught killin’ folks.”

  “So?” She whipped her head back to face him and the words poured out of her in a torrent of anger. “That don’t mean shit! CronLab has to be behind all this! I mean Maddie’s dead! Doesn’t that prove anything?”

  There was more silence as she grimly turned back to looking out her side window. JB was still having a hard time accepting her story, but his thoughts were interrupted by a sense that there was something happening on the road ahead.

  He was becoming more and more aware that the tiny things in his bloodstream seemed to have a mind of their own, working without his direct knowledge or control. He suspected that was the case now, as suddenly his attention became focused on a faint glimmer that suggested the dim glow of brake lights far up ahead on the highway. JB made sure that the girl was still staring out of her window before he extended his left eye to take a closer look.

  Almost anticipating his thought, the Sawbonites in his bloodstream modified the size and shape of his left eye, adjusting it to the desired focal length. The result was telescopic vision, and once he tweaked his optic nerves to compensate for the darkness, he clearly saw what was going on up ahead. State troopers and their vehicles were blocking the lanes in both directions, letting traffic through one vehicle at a time.

  "Shit. There's a roadblock up ahead," he said, retracting his mod in a literal eye blink.

  The girl was still lost in thought and unaware of JB's momentary physical transformation, but his warning redirected her focus onto the road ahead. She strained her eyes, attempting to see what he had described, but she could make out nothing in the darkness.

  "Are you sure?" she asked skeptically.

  Instead of replying, JB pulled the truck over to the shoulder and killed the headlights.

  "What are you doin'? Why are we stopping?” she asked, surprised by his sudden actions.

  He looked at her seriously and said, “We can’t keep goin’ this way. I told ‘ja there’s a bunch of troopers n' sheriff's up there, guaranteed.”

  She gave him a wary look in return and replied, “What makes you so sure? How can you possibly see anything out there?”

  “I got very sensitive eyes.”

  She started to shake her head in disbelief when something suddenly occurred to her.

  "Hey, are you on drugs?” she demanded.

  JB chuckled, “Not hardly. I can't get stoned or drunk no more. Jus' take my word for it, there's a shit-load of law enforcement up the road."

  The girl looked at him sharply and said, “You better not be bullshitting. If the cops are up ahead, we'll have to turn around. It won't be safe for me.”

  "Fact is y'all ain't so safe with me,” JB said, even though he regretted his choice of words the moment they had left his lips.

  "Why? What do you mean by that?" she snapped angrily, suddenly apprehensive. "Are you gonna
rape me or something?”

  The anxiety in her voice was unmistakable, but her tearstained eyes hardened with resolve and she balled her small hands into fists. She was steeling herself for a fight.

  "Hey, hey, settle down," JB said sharply. Then, he softened his tone. "Not what I meant ’ta say. I got…I got some real bad folks lookin' for me too. It's like I told ya, I can’t get mixed up in other folks' shit.” He found that he was angry, though mostly at himself, for getting sucked up into what was turning out to be another dangerous game. Finally, he blurted, “I didn’t want y’all here in the first place! I don't even wanna know your name!”

  “Well, fuck you too!” the girl snapped back. “My name is LuAnne, LuAnne Sutter. And now you know. Like it or not!” She gave him a challenging stare and asked, “So, what do I call you?"

  He couldn't help but smile at her brashness. Shaking his head he replied, “Gotta mouth on ya, don’t ya?”

  “Fuck off,” she shot back.

  “You can call me JB,” he said, still smiling.

  "Okay, JB, what now?" she asked. His tone had reassured her somewhat, but she was still not convinced of his intentions.

  “First, I need to drop y'all off at the nearest bus depot," he replied. “Best for both of us.”

  “Well, then we’re screwed,” she countered. “The closest one is in the town up ahead… Past the road block,” she made air quotes with her fingers as she finished the sentence.

  He ignored her sarcasm and said, “Any other way 'sides the interstate to get there? Y'all's from around these parts, right?”

  "Yeah, I know my way around enough to get by. We could take the old bypass road to Thornton. Pretty sure there’s a greyhound station there. It’s a pretty rough road though. Aunt Maddie took it as a last resort whenever there was an accident blocking the interstate.”