Masked (14 page)

“Does this all feel right to
you?” she asked, breaking the silence. “I mean everything we’ve been told. All
we’re doing here.” She clarified.

I’d never discussed my feelings about
our situation. No one did. With as much time as we spent together and the
friendly fronts put up, the truth was we were strangers, to each other and to
ourselves. Sara and I were strangers as well, but somehow I felt comfortable
discussing those thoughts with her.

“To be honest, I don’t know. It’s
so incredible. Sometimes it does feel right and I’m so charged at being a part
of this, at having such incredible abilities and being a part of stopping those
who threaten the lives of so many, those who did this to us. This is usually
when we’re training and doing things that are just so awesome. Other times
though… at night… I don’t know, I start to think, start to analyze. Sometimes thoughts
cross my mind, certain things, small things in what they say or do that just
seem off, not quite right. There are some things that just don’t add up,” I said.

She turned to me. “I know exactly
what you mean. I can’t put my finger on it, but something just seems… I don’t
know. I guess you said it best, just off.”

“What I keep going back to though,
in my head, is if we assume this is not what it seems, some sort of large scale
ruse, what has really happened to us? True, what we currently know as the truth
is pretty fantastic, but any alternative I can think of would even be more so.
Also, why would they go through such a big charade? What wouldn’t they want us
to know?” I said.

“Maybe they did this to us in
order to have an army of super soldiers? Maybe they just forced this upon us,”
Sara proposed. “What if we are just tools to them? Are they just manipulating us
into what they need us for?”

“I’ve thought of that. If that
was the case though, we’re not stupid. We’ll eventually have access to the
world outside and more information. We’ll be able to figure it out and when we do,
how would they expect to control us? We’re stronger than them. Also, why use
teenagers? Why not older more experienced soldiers?” I said.

Sara raised her eyes. “We think
we’re stronger than them.”

She made a good point.

There was a pause and then Sara
continued with a little bit of hesitancy. “Michael, I know we don’t know each
other, I mean we don’t even know ourselves, but can we promise that whatever
happens, regardless of any of the others, if we decide we need to leave this
place, we’ll stick together? I’m not sure why exactly, but I know I can trust
you. I somehow just feel it.”

I didn’t have to think about her
question. Of course I’d make that promise.

I squeezed her hand gently. “Without
question.”

I turned to face her more
directly. “Why is it I feel such a connection with you? I have since the first
time I saw you. You’re the only part of all this that’s completely right,
perfect in the insane situation we’re in here. We haven’t been here for very
long and our time alone with each other hasn’t even existed until tonight, but
you always trump all my other thoughts. Each night when my mind starts to race
with questions, fears, doubts, I come back to you. Thoughts of you, here with
me, are what give me the calm I need to be able to sleep each night. Sorry if
this sounds needy or sappy, but the truth is I do need you in here. You’re all
I have to keep me going each day. I’ll always be honest with you and have your
back.”

I paused for a second and added,
“You’re my whole world. Whatever it was I had before is gone. I want you in
whatever future we have.”

At that she leaned in and pressed
her soft lips on my cheek, lingering for a few seconds.

She pulled away. “I like needy
and sappy because I need you as well.”

“You missed.” I leaned in to kiss
her lips gently at first. She responded in turn. My heart was pounding in my
chest. Heat ran through my body as she held my lower lip between her teeth, released
it and continued to kiss me with increased fervor.

We ended up falling back on the
stack of mats as we continued kissing, lost in the moment and the flood of
emotion and sensation. Our bodies were wrapped so tightly I could no longer
tell whose heartbeat was whose. A floodgate was released, unlocking a wanting,
no a need, that had been held back since I first met her. The warmth of her
body against mine and the softness of her perfect lips were exhilarating.

She turned and pushed me on my
back and we continued to kiss. Her body was firm yet soft as my hands moved
over her. Our bodies moved as one, two tidal waves unleashed colliding into one
powerful tsunami.

Sara and I were lost in each
other for the rest of the evening. Time was of no consequence. All that
mattered was I had Sara. We were together against all that would come.

The funny thing about almost
dying is all of a sudden things are put into a new perspective. The
circumstances which led up to my near death experience were due to over
confidence, carelessness and just plain stupidity. Not only did I almost get
myself wasted, my inaction got others killed. I should have been able to save
them, I had the power to, but I didn’t. My life was spared that day and whether
it was divine intervention or dumb luck, what mattered was I
was
still
alive and I needed to find purpose in that.

Sure, I’d spent the past year
trying to stop horrible sickos and I’d helped plenty of people. Had I really done
that though because I’d been given a gift and wanted to use it to help others,
or had my true motivations been driven by something else? Was it maybe the strength
and power I possessed that drove me, the feeling of power I had over those like
the ones who took Sara from me?

I was confident in my abilities
and felt good when I was able to take down monsters. If I was being honest with
myself though, I thought my motivations first and foremost came down to revenge
and the power to enact that revenge. Of course I didn’t want anyone to suffer.
I wanted to stop any violence towards the innocent. I just didn’t think I’d had
the balance right, being too focused on getting the bad guy and not on saving
the victim. I decided that was going to change. The incident was three weeks
behind me and I had renewed focus and purpose.

Outside of committing to a new
moral direction, there was something else bothering me about that day in the
clearing. I guessed Bobby and his girlfriend could have come from the HUB. That
made sense, if they’d made it out like I had, but that didn’t seem right. They
seemed surprised by someone else with abilities. Also, they hadn’t been
writhing in agony from the sunlight.

If they were from the HUB, they
would have known others existed like them. Somehow they were different. Where
had they come from then? Were there more out there? Those were questions I desperately
wanted to know the answers to, but hadn’t had the chance to spend much time
focusing on. My time of late was occupied by other matters.

Finally getting the bullet out of
my leg was an excruciating messy affair. My body burned way too quickly through
the local anesthetic I’d stolen, which only prolonged the procedure. Once
finished I was extremely grateful the rounds the super powered psycho put in my
back had gone all the way through. I felt sorry for the maid who had to clean
up the mess in my motel room. I left a generous tip.

I arrived in Seattle just a
couple days later. The rate I negotiated at an old pay by the week motel near
the down town area was very reasonable, though the accommodations were almost
too unbearable for even me. I refused to touch the filthy floors with anything
other than my shoes. I kept a pair of flip flops by the side of the bed for
quick trips to the bathroom and next to the tub was another pair to shower in.

Sleep, shower, toilet and change
clothes was about all I did in my so called home. I even refused to eat there.
I didn’t trust any food that went into the cabinets. I wasn’t sure what crawled
over it when the lights were out. I swore I could hear the roaches scurrying
around when I lay in bed. “Blah,” I hated roaches. I’d invested in eight
plug-in air fresheners so the awful smell I couldn’t identify smelled like an
awful smell I couldn’t identify covered by a strong over-layer of cinnamon. The
place was cheap and in the right location, so I stayed.

It was about the best I could do
without any source of income besides what I took. Part of my moral compass reset
included trying not to use the funds I had to steal to better my lifestyle. Even
though I’d reconciled in my mind what I took was necessary, and I could live
with myself, I didn’t want to dive even further into the depths of moral
ambiguity. I was fine where I was for the time being. Also, there was plenty in
the city to occupy me when awake to keep me from my home sweet hole in the
wall.

The reason I was in Seattle in
the first place was to try and help the police find who was behind the recent
string of serial murders. Over the last couple months a dozen bodies had turned
up. The murders all seemed to have the same M.O., someone in their late teens/early
twenties covered in small lacerations completely drained of blood. All the
bodies so far were found washed in from the Puget Sound, near the downtown
area.

Because of the complete
evisceration of the bodies, the killings were coined the ’Vampire Slayings’ and
getting a lot of press lately. There’d been a total of ten bodies found over the
last two months and the police had no real leads.

What I’d been able to gleam from
the news articles was each of the victims had been in the eighteen to
twenty-two year range and all were familiar with the Seattle night life. In
addition to those found, there were another dozen or so people missing, similar
M.O.’s. With that common thread I thought the attendance at downtown clubs and
bars would have been down, but it wasn’t. They stayed booming with loud music,
drinks and plenty of hormonal adolescent activity, despite the threat of death
by evisceration.

I was able to jump in and borrow
a few case files from the police for a few hours and got a few more bits of
information. Of course, when I did this, the cards were once again stacked against
me and an officer walked in to see someone in a black ski mask taking files. At
least I was smart enough to wear the mask. I was able incapacitate him before
he could draw his weapon and was gone before anyone else arrived. I kept the
files only for a few hours and got them back to the police without any further incident.

According to the testimonies of
those who knew the deceased or missing, most of the dead or missing were either
known to be, or supposed to have been, in the Pioneer Square area. An eighteen
and over live music club named the Cross was named in several cases. Other than
that, the police files didn’t reveal anything more than what I’d found from the
press and in doing my own research.

After three weeks in town, I’d become
a regular to Seattle night life. There really were some great clubs that played
great live music. Unfortunately I could only pass by the club’s that most
interested me. There was one in particular called, Oi!, Oi!, that had live punk
bands nightly. A few nights prior, I noticed a poster advertising a Glowing
Jims show in a couple of weeks. I hadn’t known they were back together. Given
that I was able to stop the killer by then, I planned on staying long enough to
check it out.

I spent most of my time each
night at the Cross. It was always so jammed packed despite the horrible bands that
played the venue. Was one good band too much to ask for? It was like the music
gods were out to get me. According to my ID I was nineteen year-old Michael Fox
from Bellevue. The authenticity of the ID was never questioned.

Each night consisted of sitting,
consuming several drinks and pounds of greasy bar food and simply scoping the
room and looking for targets to focus on. There wasn’t really any one thing I
looked for in a target, but a list of several qualities which prompted me to look
closer. In truth, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but followed
instinct and hunches.

After three weeks, it had become
easier to identify those I needed to focus on. Both places had a significant
amount of regulars that came in several times a week and once I‘d checked
someone out I ignored them the next time I saw them.

I wasn’t the typical client who frequented
either location. I didn’t dance, socialize, hit on girls, or even talk really,
except when ordering more food or drink. I was the young looking oddball that sat
in the corner and stared at everyone else doing what they came out to do.

Night after night, I looked for
anything that might be a lead to finding the killer. After several nights of
using my ability on so many people, it became a more natural process for me to
do. The first few nights, I had the insane headaches I had to push through. I
wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to keep it up, but as I kept going for
a few more days, the headaches faded. Also, I found myself able to reach others
much easier and quicker. Now, I could go in to one’s mind, look around, and be
out in a matter of fifteen seconds or so. That was really all the time I needed
to be able to see what they were thinking about at that moment. Most people couldn’t
process too much thought at once.

I’d touched the minds of
thousands over those few weeks and found nothing to lead me in any direction of
finding who was behind the murders. In fact, I hadn’t really found much of
anything. I mean, everyone had their secrets and some of the things I’d seen
were definitely things to keep to oneself, but I’d expected more darkness. I’d expected
to find most people to be more sinister or corrupt, but in general my
assumption was wrong. I guess it was short-sighted discrimination or just my
general faithlessness in humanity seeping through, but I’d expected a lot of
thoughts about dark deeds planned or done. I found none of that. At least
nothing I felt I needed to act on. I guess I needed to give people more credit.

Were my actions ethical? Probably
not, but the police were working the case the more ethical way, not prying into
people’s thoughts, and had nothing. Not to say I was making any progress either,
but I was able to work an angle they couldn’t. Sure, I was invading the privacy
of everyone I read, but was the cost of that greater than the lives being lost?
I’d already decided no. Maybe I didn’t have the right to decide that. It didn’t
matter. I was going to do what was necessary to stop the murders, to save any
more victims.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one
looking for a suspect at either location. The police had people under cover at the
club each night. Six of the youngest looking officers at the Seattle Police
Department were assigned on a nightly rotating duty. Periodically I checked
their thoughts to stay on top of any leads they had and to make sure they
weren’t focusing on me as a suspect. Since I was there every night and probably
looked creepy just sitting and staring at people, I expected it to happen
eventually and it did.

Officer Felicia Raymond was in
her late twenties and had been with the Seattle Police Department for
approximately five years. She was of a medium build and height and what I
usually saw her in was not the typical SPD uniform. That particular night she
was wearing tight black pants with an equally tight black leather jacket and
combat boots. Her hair was shoulder length and dyed jet black, even though the
normal color was a sandy blonde. She appeared to have several piercings in her
ears and one in her nose, but all were false except one in each ear. She’d been
stuck on the club detail for about a month and was having issues with her
current boyfriend because she was gone almost every other night. I knew all of
this from my multiple reads of her.

I’d been a person of interest for
about a week, due to my suspicious behavior. I couldn’t blame her. I would have
been suspicious of me too. I wasn’t too worried about it though because; so far,
all they were just going to do was continue to watch me, to see if I led them
to anything. They could watch me all they wanted as far as I was concerned
because all they would see was just more of the same thing, me sitting and
watching the crowd.

I was reading a guy who was
trying to decide whether or not to approach a blonde girl sitting by herself across
the bar. His name was Walter Lloyd, but liked to be called Wally and was a less
than ordinary looking man, in his mid-twenties. He wore black loose jeans and a
black t-shirt featuring a band name I couldn’t make out. His dark, greasy,
lanky hair fell in front of his eyes so you could barely make out his face. I
understood Wally’s hesitancy in approaching the girl. She seemed a bit out of
his league. On the other hand, she did seem to be looking at him and smiling.

She couldn’t have been any older
than eighteen, if that, and was petite with platinum blonde hair. Her perfectly
pale milky skin and beautifully formed face would enchant anyone who looked at
her. She made me want to introduce myself.

She wore tight black leather
pants with an equally tight white top under a black leather jacket. The ensemble
was tough and classy at the same time. It seemed odd a girl like that would be
trying to flirt with the less than average looking Wally.

“What are you waiting for?”

His self-confidence was not at
its peak. He kept trying to convince himself she couldn’t be looking at him.

Well, he didn’t make a move, but
she did. She moved over to where he was and started into a conversation with
him. I guess everyone has a type. I decided to let him have his moment and
moved on to look at others.

A thirty something CPA, at a
large Seattle firm was out with his young assistant enjoying a night on the
town. He looked uncomfortable at the Cross and hadn’t known what he was getting
into when he agreed to let the assistant pick the place to meet. It was the
first time he had done anything like that and hoped no one from the office would
find out. His wife and kids of course thought he was out of town on business
when he really planned to spend the evening at a hotel down the street. He kept
telling himself it was just going to be this one time. Yeah, maybe only if he
was caught. Asshole!