The Fledge Effect (17 page)

Nick raised his finger in the air, as if in
school, and changed the subject. He was all too
familiar with Emily’s pressed lips. He remembered all the times she has cried in the past, and
felt it coming on stronger with each second he
allows her to sit in silence.

“Did you ever figure out where Jane
came from? What country?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Where?” Nick pressed.
He hesitated with his answer. “Another
planet.”
Maddie nudged Emily. “Told you,” she
whispered.
“Well, good night everyone. Trudy can
always tell you where to find me.”
“Night,” everyone said to him when he
walked out the door.
Emily rose from the table, headed up to
her room, and took a peak at Katie drawing on
piece of paper. “What are you making there?”
She looked up as Emily brushed her
hair back with her fingers. “I’m drawing a picture of me and my daddy. Next time I see him; I
want to give him a hug just like I am doing
here.”
“It’s beautiful. And I’m not just saying
that because you are a kid, but because you have
some serious talent here.” The picture, almost
perfect stunned her. “How did you learn how to
do this?”
“After spending almost every day, you
find things to do in the meantime. I read all the
books at home, so this was the next best thing.”
“Okay, well if you need anything let us
know.”
Before Emily closed the door, Nick
snuck up behind her in the hallway. He dipped
his head towards her, making her heart feel as if
it jumped straight out of chest. His scent intoxicated her senses.
“We could have had this. A little girl.
That’s always been my dream.”
Then, she snapped out of his hypnotic
trance he held on her. “I’m not talking about
this.”
“Why not? We’re not married anymore.
Why can’t we just be adults about this?”
“I have nothing to say, Nick.”
“Can you at least answer me one thing?”
She vacillated between the choice of returning, back, into the kitchen, or talking to him. Against her better judgement, she asked, “What is it.”
“Why didn’t you want to have kids?”
Her chin wobbled. “I-I just don’t, okay?
I mean, ugh, I do, but…”
“Not with me?”
“No, no, that is not—.”
“Save it. I guess I’m not father material.
Is that right?”
“See? This is why I didn’t want to talk
about this with you. You always assume it’s you,
when it’s not.”
“Oh, you know what? You are a cliché.
It’s not me it’s you. Right? Just, just shut up.”
Tears welled up in both of their eyes.
Emily tried to defend what she meant,
without saying what she means to say without
actually saying it, but decided against dragging
up the past. She crossed her arms, tight, across
her chest. “I-I,” she failed talking through her
burst of tears.
Nick, unable to allow himself the stabbing pain in his gut, pulled her into his chest.
“I’m sorry, Emily. You know I hate seeing you
upset. I just wish you would open up to me, and
tell me what is on your mind. Stop bottling
things up.”
“I wish I could tell you.” But, it was just
that. She could tell him, but didn’t want to. She
feared, more than, him hurting her because he
would never dare lie a hand on her, but more of
him hating her. That, alone, would shank her in
the heart. She would keel over where she stood.
Marcel, flustered, met with them in the
hall. He clung a crinkled piece of paper in his
hand, shaking. “It’s Calista. She’s gone.”
Snapping back to the current situation,
Emily shook her head. “What do you mean she
is gone? Where would she have gone to?”
He handed the note to her, and turned
around. The front door squeaked open, and
slammed shut. Emily, and Nick, ran after him,
but stopped to see him sit sadly on the swing set.
“What does it say?”
Emily opened up to view the eligible,
sprawled across the page, font. She read off the
page, “
I don’t want to hurt anyone, or put any
of you in danger. So I am leaving someplace I
know I won’t do any harm.
”
“Why is she afraid of harming someone?”
She looked up from the note, dazed. “I
don’t know.”
•••
Later that night, the moon, full, hung high in the
sky. Crickets chirped relentlessly. It was music
to Maddie’s ears. Streets were silent, and lights
were out, she knew she should rest up, as well
as go back into the warmth of her home. But, the
night seemed to sweep away her daytime worries and anxieties. Peace drove within her when
she focused firmly on the face of the moon.
Footsteps neared her. Spooked, she
jumped from the porch. Marcel, still on the
swing, remained unmoved, but still aware of his
surroundings. She turned her head; Steve took
the spot next to her. “Hey. Do you mind if I sit
here?”
“Nope,” she said, blushing.
“Good,” he said. He grinned at her. “I
have a favor to ask you.”
“Sure, anything.”
“Okay, I plan on asking Theresa to
marry me. But, I need a ring in order to so. So…
I was kind of hoping you could, possibly, maybe,
talk to your mom about helping me get a job.”
A tight twinge jerked her heart.
“Please,” he begged, “this would mean
the world to me.”
“Look,” she waved her hands in front of
her, “I… I don’t know what I could do.”
“I know Theresa doesn’t like you too
much, and you don’t have to worry about her
coming after you or anything. This will be just
between us. She doesn’t even know I am here.”
“I thought you had a job. The manager
at the store here in town?”
“I do. Yes. But, after paying bills, and
buying her whatever she wants, barely leaves
enough for even food. That is why I am asking
for your mom to see what she can’t do.”
“Okay, but you have a terrific job history, why would you need my mom’s help?”
“Well, Theresa, she, uh, kind of burnt a
whole lot of bridges here. You know. She almost
got me fired as manager. And I know you know
that I am a good person, and so does your mom.
Her word carries more weight around here than
our mayor.”
“Why doesn’t she just get a job doing
something? Anything.”
“Oh, she doesn’t want to work.”
“Really? And you’re letting her stay
home alone all day?”
“Well, I mean, she’s happy. And isn’t
that all that matters?”
She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I suppose.”
A huge part of her wished, he would do anything
to make her happy, but knew she had better luck
finding a strand of hay in a stack of extra sharp
needles threaded with barbed wire.
“I can talk to her.”
“Well, I better go before Theresa gets
suspicious.”
Maddie chuckled under her breath,
pointing at a pink car. “I think it might be a bit
late for that,” she said as Theresa marched her
way up to Maddie.
“Why are you here? Actually, I don’t
want to hear it. Get your behind home now. I
have a hair appointment in the morning, and
you need to be there.”
Maddie shook her irate face. “I can’t
take it anymore. Do you even care about him?”
She stared, hard, into her eyes.
“Well, of course I do! How dare you
question my undying love I have for him.”
She knew she had to be lying. So, Maddie decided to do what any sane woman would
do; ask her a few questions to prove such a notion.
“When is his birthday?”
“Oh, I think August. Right, dearie?” she
said, dumbfounded, grinning.
“Wrong,” Maddie corrected. “May
ninth.”
“Favorite colors of his?”
“Pink and orange.”
“Actually, those are your favorite colors,” Steve said.
“Yep,” Maddie agreed, “his is green.
The color of his first bike.”
Theresa nervously laughed, waving her
hands in front of her. “Wow, you’re a psychic.
Congrats!”
Maddie rubbed her two fingers between
her eyes. “Ugh… No, there are no such things.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Before you came in, and destroyed
everything like a hurricane, he and I were best
friends. I listened to him. Something you should
try doing.”
Theresa tossed her hand in the air,
grabbed Steve by the coat collar, and dragged
him off the property. He forced his gaze on Theresa, but
one last glance at Maddie shouldn’t
hurt,
he supposed.
Maddie collapsed back down into the
divot, and began sobbing as they drove away.
Hearing her sniffles, Trudy walked out holding
a thick blanket. She wrapped Maddie up, shushing her tearful daughter.
For the next hour, Trudy just sat, and
held her in silence, joining her inside the cover.
The warmth of her mom comforted her in this
special time of need. She felt she could tell her
anything, except the part of him earning more
money. She knew, not even her, could or would
truly help him marry the she-devil.

In a dream, she stood under the crashing, yet gentle, waves of a waterfall. With closed
eyes, and unleashed senses, she ran her fingers
across her scalp. The water thickened, becoming more and more slippery the longer her eyes
stayed shut. She could tell what it was, as rays
of redness streaked behind her eyelids.

They wouldn’t open. She couldn’t see,
but at the same time, she could. It wasn’t anything of what she ever felt before. The striking
blindness that she could see through raised her
pulse. However, it stopped; as soon she was able
to peel open her eyes. Blood, everywhere. Fingers, soaked with redness, and palms clenched
tight around flesh and bone. A piercing ring surfaced inside her head. It rung persistently.
Emily jolted out of bed, gasping, heaving, and clenching her chest tight. She relaxed,
hearing the quickening thump of her heart become only a paced tick against her palm. Without having to listen to Maddie’s ramblings
about dream interpretations, she knew all too
well, what it meant.
Stress
, she noted, unsurprised.

She crossed her arm over, reaching for
her phone. Two missed calls from an unknown
number, and one text message from that same
number rested on her touchscreen. She grunted
a sigh, and faced her window. Slight rays of an
orange glow surpassed her darkened curtains.

She frowned at the mixed choice of dark
purples and blueish hues. It made her feel
young again. Not a vibrant, free-willed child,
but a burdened teenager having to make adult
decisions, and some she would have never decided to do.

She shook her head, relinquishing herself of these memories, and allowing herself to
take a well-deserved walk downstairs to the
nearest coffee pot. Eight in the morning, undercaffeinated, and unfed, she felt just as dangerous as any Fledge that should ever dare come
her way.

Nick, in the hall, perched on the floor
next to her bedroom door, raised an eye to her.
Without a word, he focused back on his hands.
“W-what… w-why… Ugh!” She stuttered over slurred words. English, even though
it was her native-born tongue, failed her as if
she were from third-world country who has
taken only one course of remedial English, and
tried speaking it like a confident know-it-all.

“I heard you whimpering. I thought you
were…” he tampered off his sentence, seeing she
was just fine. “Never mind. Trudy made breakfast,” he said, rising up from the red carpet. He
trampled down the steps, followed.

Everyone sat in silence, at the kitchen
table, then waited for Emily to bring the cup to
her lips. Emily raised a brow, stunted. Her
movements, dissected, and carefully studied,
left her rigid as if she were a robot; or, better yet,
a person from the eighties attempting the robotlike dance. “What?”

She didn’t intend on any reply, as her
question soon met its demise, placed under a
rhetorical standpoint. She nestled into the chair
next to Maddie.

“Phew! Okay, so are we going to talk
about what to do? I mean, us sitting here… we
are just sitting ducks,” Maddie spewed.

“Ewe, I’m sorry sis, I thought your coffee kicks in as soon as you take your first sip.”
“Wait.
What?
No, I mean… Yes. But…”
She shook her head, collecting her thoughts.
“We are safer here than anywhere else. What
ever happened to George could happen to any
Fledge. Katie and Nick could very well act capricious.”
“Actually, you make a valid point,”
Marcel agreed. “But, there is only two of them,
and an entire town of us. But, you are right. We
are safer here, then going out and asking to be
bait.”
Trudy shook her head. “I will not hear
this. Any of this. You said it yourself that we
have an entire town here. We can easily kill off
whatever comes our way.”
“Yes,” Marcel nodded, reluctant. “But,
to rally up well over five thousand people... heh,
our Presidents’ runner up couldn’t even do
twice that in this state alone. The dimwit.”
“Well, I am not.”
“True, but how do you suppose we win
this? I talked with Doctor Seizer, and he claims
those alloy cubes are harder to come by than
spotting Bigfoot in the lake where the loch ness
monster was found.”
“So, we make them ourselves,” Trudy
insisted.
“With what equipment? Not even he
has an equipment that could mass produce such
a product.”
Maddie turned to Emily, wanting to ask
her about the endless what-ifs that ran through
her head, until she noticed something off about
her sister. “Wait. Why are you dressed? You’re
never dressed before coffee. What?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, to contradict what I
just said, I do, in fact have somewhere to be.”
“Oh, no. You are not going anywhere.
You left, and didn’t come back for several hours.
What are you thinking?”
“This time, I will be back.”
Katie nodded. “No doubt, she will be
fine.”
“I’ll go,” Nick said. “I’ll make sure she
actually returns this time.”
“And keep me safe, right?” she said,
making it clear she was sitting right there, and
to not be ignored.
“Nah,” he chortled. “Yes. You know I
will.”
Soon after, Trudy led the way in her car
towards the giant brick wall. Only she had the
passphrase to open the wooden door that now
blocked off the town from the outside world. Before then, it was just a slight opening as if it led
into a tunnel.
She unlocked the door, and to her surprise, a flood of faces occupied the other side. A
mixed bunch of Fledges, and humans, restlessly
stood in place. Her elbow nudged Marcel, who
tagged along. “So, just Nick and Katie, right?”
“They’re not Fledges.”
“How can you know for sure?”
“Their eyes. Look. They lack the gold
ring around the pupil.”
“What about the pale ones?”
Marcel shook his head. “That’s just racist.”
“Are Fledges being considered a race
now?”
“I-I’m not sure. Sounds right though.
Right?”
Trudy shrugged her shoulders, waving
her hands to make way for Emily’s passage.
Nerves kicked in, and without thinking,
Emily temporarily grasped Nick’s hand, before
realizing she really didn’t mean to do so.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Really. It is.” He said, exchanging tender smiles with her.
•••
Back at the University, in Middletown, Grant
Daly took over Marcel’s lab. Decorated in ‘
Save
the World
’ posters, and texts on the sayings,
and quotes, of Gandhi, and Buddha influences
made the room less strenuous for Calista to
walk into. The night before, he gladly helped her
in her pleas to keep people safe from her deadly
capabilities.
She was unsure of where to go, or what
to do. She knew one thing for sure, however;
Grant never removed the cage.
He doesn’t know why he left. All he
knew, it would provide a safe haven for him if
he were to ever screw up the continuance of his
fathers’ work. At least, in there, he wouldn’t
threaten society with his presence. He vowed to
never harm someone, no matter what. But, he
would do anything to protect someone as beautiful as the woman before him would appear to
any set of eyes. She stricken him poised, with
her indigenous kind braveness. Which, to him,
was greater than any physical sex appeal.
Amongst a box of various items, sat a
framed picture of Emily and Hank, on his desk.
Calista bit her lip. “What are you doing with
that?”
He turned his head. “Oh, I was asked to
clean out her space. I thought I was going to see
her again. Usually people take their belongings
with them when they up and leave an establishment.”
“Well,” she scoffed, paused, “true.”
His door swung open within a split second. In stepped the mayor, his Father Jeremiah
Daly. He cleared his throat, before speaking.
However, an unusual setting intrigued him;
Calista trapped in a monkey cage. He chuckled,
admiring his sons’ latest catch.
“You know; Stockholm syndrome is not
true love. Right, Son?” He was only joking, he
hoped.
Grant rolled his eyes at his fathers’ assumption. “I’m not keeping her to make her love
me,” said, almost blushing.
“Okay. Can I ask?”
“Why are you here? Check up on me
and this dreadful work?”
“Actually, yes. And, I am glad you
caught her.”
“I didn’t catch her. She came to me
looking for refuge.”
“I don’t understand. Is she not a
Fledge?”
“No. She is.”
Jeremiah raised his brows, amused.
“Okay. Yep.”
“What?” Grant didn’t trust the halfsmile Jeremiah portrayed. He knew it was his ‘
I
have a twisted surprise for you’
smile. Not once
has his surprises ever been well. “You’re not
hurting her.”
He pocketed his hands, and said, “You
need to run some tests on her.” He bowed his
head, revealing a flat cube-like remote. It had
tiny buttons running across it. He handed it to
Grant with a tight-lipped grin. “This will control
her, if the tests get too offensive for her to handle.”
“What is that?” Calista questioned.
“Something, which if in the wrong
hands, can destroy an entire nation.”
“I don’t want it,” Grant said, shaking his
hands. “Get that thing the hell out of here.
Now!”
“Hey, Son, don’t you worry. It’s only
deadly if you press the purple button. The others just activate a Fledge depending on how far
away you are from one.” He patted his shoulder,
amused. “You’ll be okay. Just remember to direct your commands in the speaker there.”
He spun around on his heels, headed
towards the door. On his way out, he dropped
the switch on the wooden Buddha’s lap. “
Enlighten
,” he mocked, “this project.”
The door gently closed shut behind his
back. He peered over to his right. Agent Myers,
in a stance, unsettled something fierce inside
Jeremiah.
“Mayor.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been watching this place. A Fledge
came here in the middle of the night. She still in
there?”
“I-I d-don’t know… what you are talking about,” he denied. “It’s just my son in there.
All alone.”
Myers smirked. “Don’t lie to me, Old
Man.”
“Well, if you knew, then why do you
have to ask me?”
“No reason.”
“You hurt either one of them, I will have
you killed,” Jeremiah whispered. “I am
dead
serious.”
“Fine.”
His words, much like his stare, sliced
through Jeremiah to his core. He decided to
wait outside the door. But as Hank shut the door
between them, just a few feet away from him,
the click of it locking sent Jeremiah pounding
his feet towards the door.
He slammed his palm against it, and
yelled, “Open up, now.”
He attempted twisting the doorknob
with no prevail. He slammed his shoulder
against it, and yelled again. “Agent Myers! I
swear to God!”
After a couple of minutes of metal
clashing, and the sound of shattering wood, a
single blow from a gun stopped him in his
tracks. He released his grip from the doorknob,
watching as it vehemently rattled. Myers tugged
it open, as if something enlarged blocked its
way.
Jeremiah stole a quick glance towards
Myers. He stormed in the lab, Calista was gone,
and his son lied stiff upon the chilly tile of masqueraded papers.
Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump.
Nothing, besides the beat of heart,
thickened inside his ears. Growing louder, with
each hesitant step. Warm wells of serene waves
crashed down out of his eyes. Seeing is not, cannot, always be true. At least in this case, he
hoped it to all be a trick of his darkening mind.
However, in the truth of the matter, he stood,
weakly, in a mass pool of his own sons’ blood. It
stuck to his sole, both shoe and spirit, as his
steps slowed, crepitated with each mind-triggering step.
His throat, sticky, thick, tearful, and
taut with pressing distress, cracked through his
words. “M-my… N-no! My son!” he growled,
clenched.
His hands shaking with severe vigor,
relished with the tingling sensation of anger,
and numbing pains of depression, as he grasped
his sons’ face, burrowing it into his chest.
“You will pay! I will kill you, Hank Myers! I promise you!” He couldn’t scream anymore, as his throat became tight with raw
hoarseness. Taut with plans, he choked back
more tears. He whispered to Grant, “I love you…
Those should have been my last words to you. I
never say it enough… I should have more often.
No more! No more! I’m done! You are my son,
do not leave me!”
“Hello?” Calista cried. “Mayor Daly? Is
that you?”
He followed her voice coming from the
closet. He placed his ear against the door, but
the locked knob proved to not open with any
ease. “Where is the key?” he said, bolting his
eyes around the room.
“In here. Isn’t there a spare?” she said,
trembled.
The switch for the Fledges went missing. Left behind were Grants’ only set of keys.
He jingled the keys in the doorknob, but none of
which suited his needs. “No. None. I’m sorry.”
“What?” she cried out. She couldn’t believe what he was stating.
His breathing became raspy with rage.
However, it sharpened in his lung. His entire
left side squeezed as if an elephant sat on his
chest. A dreadful ache, in the arm he held Grant
up with, gave into a burning, ripping pressure,
almost like pens and needles, if the needles were
molten with fiery tips. He couldn’t take no more
than short rapid breaths. Any deeper, left him
curling in pain.
Two hours passed, before he regained
consciousness. Even though he blacked out, he
could scarcely remember the faint rush of footsteps followed by medical terms.
A pale hand, tipped with red, squared,
nails tapped his face. Black sleeves met with her
wrist, covering the charmed bracelet of the sun
he had made for Brinks. He was the eclipse of
her bright, sunny, rays. He gave her that charm,
to remind her that she is the Sun.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked.
She leaned her head down towards him,
sliding a chair beneath her. She brushed back
her stray strands of red hair behind her ear.
“Why are you sorry? You’re the one in the hospital. My partner was way out of line. I should
be apologizing.”
“He went rogue. That was not your
fault.”
“It was my fault for trusting him. Gish,
what am I doing?”
“Following orders.” He drifted his eyes
off towards the agape door. “
My orders
… My
oldest enemy, time, has failed me.”
“You’re still alive. What are you talking
about?”
“I was fearsome. No one dared cross
me. Like my trust, my age, has ran its course in
virility; fragile.”
“I can find a way to make you like me.
If you would let me.”
“But, your bite doesn’t turn anyone, anything, into what you are.”
“That is not the only way.”
“I won’t have it any other way!”
“You could die, anytime!”
“So be it. My plan turned against itself.
This is not what I envisioned. And in the wrong
hands, could turn evil. This has to be stopped. It
has gone on for too long. I refuse to wait around
and see how this ends.”
“
What
?”
“I didn’t tell you all of the details, because of this. The containment, let alone the
prevalence, of this DNA copy of Fledges, will be
too much for one nation to control, but will give
Myers the power to control one nation. He has
the second switch. He took it from my son.” His
words turned into a series of heartfelt sobs. The
only type of pain a father would understand. Especially a single father, who taught his son everything from pitching his first baseball, to landing his first date. Now, he will have faced with
the choice of picking his sons’ last outfit.
In a world of powerlessness, man finds
a way to overcome the willingness of the weakminded individuals. Yet, it is the ones who are
strong that fear not the power, but the results
severed down the backbone of civilization, that
face everything and fight. Jeremiah knew this,
but he did not foresee the possible repercussions of his actions.
“Then, what was your intended plan?”
“To make an army. One that was ruthless, and would never quit. One that could win a
forthcoming war.”
“You were building a swarm of mindless robots, in order to protect us? Using me?”
“Hey! I saved you. The doctor, a hackwannabe-doctor, that found you, wanted to do
things… awful things with your DNA, and possibly to you. I wouldn’t have it; I didn’t stand for
it.”
“Then let me save you! Please.”
He pressed the back of head, hard,
against the hospital pillow. He groaned, fierce
in his decision. The monitors beeped, and
whooshed, reminding him he was still alive. Not
just physically, but his soul remained intact
with his earth-bound body. The way he wanted
it to remain. “No.”
“How can we stop this? Was that, yet,
another detail you left out?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, drawing in a deep breath
through his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut,
deciding to say it fast, as if ripping off a bandaide. “You are the Mother Gene to these copies.
They are connected to you, as you are to them.
But, whatever happens to you happens to them.
Not vice versa.” He stared into her blank expression.
What he didn’t know, was that she already calculated his words carefully. Her eyes lit
up, dispirited, once realization hit. She was
speechless, attempting to mutter words, but
failed as ghastly noises quietly escaped from the
back of her throat.
She spun around, heading towards the
door.
“Jane, wait.”
She took a step back, shutting the door.
“What?” She looked back at him then. Her eyes
wildly blue against the fair complexion of her
tone and fiery hair.