WWIV Book 1

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Friday, March 10, 2017

"Glitched" - Chapters 13 & 14

Click on the chapter numbers below to read prior publishings:

1&2  3&4  5&6  7&8  9&10  11&12



Chapter 13


Somewhere in the middle of my walk to Anuk’s one of my phones began to ring. Withdrawing it from my pocket, I recognized the initials of the caller. While I would have rather ignored it, I knew the phone would just keep ringing if I did.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answered.

“Is that any way to greet your Mother?” Ma screeched. “Like I’m one of your degenerate friends? I raised you better than that.”

Like I had time for her crap at that point. I was already chastising myself for not turning the phone off instead of answering.

“I’m kind of busy, Ma. If you got something to tell me, could you just spit it out…please?”

Instead of talking I heard her ragged breaths. She was pouting, no doubt. While I should have cared, I had more important stuff on my mind.

“There was a woman here,” she replied. I heard a match strike in the receiver and figured she was lighting up another heater. Maybe if I was lucky she was burning the house to the ground, with herself strapped in a chair.

Again, I was faced with another caller who provided limited information. If I didn’t know any better, Ma and Riley had to be mother and daughter.

“Need a little more information than that, MA,” I replied, slapping my forehead. “Like did she leave a name? Or mention what she wanted?”

The silence on the other end of the phone told me that Ma was either trying to recall the conversation…or maybe had finally left the Earth.

“I don’t think so, Trent,” she stated in a very unconvincing manner.

“Did you recognize her? Maybe it was Riley perhaps?”

Again, a long pause of mind numbing silence followed. I’d be dead before she ever gave me the whole story.

“Um, no…I don’t think so.”

My eyes squeezed shut and I felt my left hand ball into a fist. “Can you at least describe her for me?” I begged. “Can you do that, Ma?”

“She left a note for you,” Ma exclaimed, the shrillness coming back to life in her voice. She seemed so proud I didn’t want to burst her bubble and ask why she hadn’t said that first thing.

But Ma was Ma, and she made me ask the obvious. “What does the note say, Mother?”

I heard the paper rustle as she drew it close to her face to read. “Painter Park; 13:00.”

One piece of the puzzle had been solved. Someone wanted to talk to me, nearby and within the next half hour. Now, if I could just extract a hint at the who my anxiety might have been manageable.

“Describe the woman, Ma.”

“She was short, kind of like Lucy,” she began. “Not as short as that cute sweetie that stops by once in a while—”

“Riley?”

“Yeah,” she squawked. “What a sweetie pie she is. You should think about becoming more serious with that one, Trent. She’d be a good wife and mother I bet.”

I had begun to head in the direction of Painter Park. Ma’s ramblings caused me to stop and lean against a rawd iron fence, searching for breath.

“Back to the other one, Ma,” I muttered, fighting back the urge to race home and give her a piece of my mind. No good would have to from that; all it would have accomplished was making her crying.

“Probably mid-20s, kind of soft spoken, not really pretty but not what I would call ugly. Maybe a little homely.”

Good, I thought. That narrowed it down to about a half a million people. For all I knew the Governor’s daughter was looking for me.

“She had on an interesting scarf,” Ma continued. “It was a real funny looking green.”

“Chartreuse,” I whispered, recalling it from earlier in the day.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Ma screeched. “she said the color was chartreuse. You know her?”

I knew her alright. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet with her. Not in public, all out in the open and all.



Chapter 14


I cased out the park carefully for a full 10 minutes before committing to the meeting. It was fairly open with limited trees for people to hid behind, enabling them to leap out and grab me. Surrounded mostly by residential housing, I surmised the coast was clear.

I spotted Margo on a bench beside the vacant basketball court. Fort her part she looked nervous, extremely nervous. But she’d looked the same when I saw her a few hours back; so as far as I knew that was her normal demeanor.

I’d made it almost to her before she spotted me and leaped from her spot. Racing towards me, the woman made me want to turn and run away as fast as I could. But something in her face, a terribly frightened, look told me to stay.

She when got to me Margo threw her short arms around my chest and hugged tightly. “Thank God you came,” she cried. “I was so worried you wouldn’t.”

I let her go on for a few seconds as I surveyed our surroundings. No one was paying attention to us – good. Likewise, no government vehicles had stopped on the road, unloading a dozen or more black jackets – very good. Except for the weeping woman hanging onto me like I was the last life jacket on the titanic, there was nothing usual about us being here – excellent.

Pushing her away from my person space, I held Margo’s shoulder at arm’s length. The water works were still in full gear, but she seemed to be able to talk.

“I know,” she whispered. “And they know too.”

I chuckled once and rolled my eyes, looking away from Margo. “You don’t know shit, lady. And they know even less. Whoever they is.”

Her head shook in small fits. “Trent,” she begged, pulling on my open jacket. “I know everything. She told me.”

She knew something, that much was obvious. But I doubt she knew anything of importance. And if the they she was speaking about was the same they that made my life difficult, she didn’t know the first thing about anything.

I took her by the arm and steered her back to the bench. First, I needed to determine how she knew my name. Then I could sort the rest of her rantings out one by one.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, watching her withdraw a cigarette from a silver case. She shook so much when she tried to light it I had to take the lighter and help her out. She offered me a smoke; who was I to pass up something for free.

I watched her take a couple of ragged drags before she looked at me to answer. “I’m friends with Lucy, you know that. At least you should.”

“So?” I played it cool, making her stay on the answering end of the questions.

Margo shrugged and went back to her smoke. “She’s told me everything about you. How you met, where you live, that you’re a glitch.” She peeked at me to see if I was offended, which I wasn’t. Almost everyone I knew, knew what I did to survive.

“She told me about how sweet you are,” Margo went on. “Told me how you proposed to her right here in this same park. That’s why I thought it best we meet here.”

My mind shut down after the word proposed. I heard her speaking still but nothing she said after that made any sense.

“Hang on there a second, sunshine,” I interrupted. “Did you say proposed, as in engaged to be married?”

Her head bobbed stupidly up and down. This was certainly news to me.

“Did she ever show you a ring or anything?” I asked, somewhere between laughing and shouting.

“No,” she answered plainly. “She said you were saving for one, sometime in the near future.”

Taking a drag from the nearly spent cigarette, I glanced away. Lucy and I were acquaintances, at best. I had always thought she viewed me as some type of creepy stalker type. When she did speak to me she usually kept her eyes focused on her shoes. I never really got much of a happy couple kind of vibe from her.

“I hate to tell you this, Margo,” I said, exhaling the last of my smoke. “Lucy’s been pulling your leg. Her and I are barely friends, much less lovers.”

Margo’s expression turned to that shock. “But you kissed her, right here on this bench.”

I shook my head and shrugged. “Never happened.”

“You made love down at Calhoun beach one night last summer, in the dark.” Her tone was getting a little excited, so I moved closer.

“I might have groped her a little,” I admitted. “She didn’t seem to mind. Wasn’t very romantic, though.”

Margo looked almost as confused as I felt. Sure, I was flattered that Lucy exaggerated our relationship. I mean, come on; I could do a lot worse than Lucy Tringle. But I wasn’t really the marrying type. So the rest of whatever happened between us was more fun and games than something that began to resemble love.

“I know Lucy,” Margo stated in a defensive tone. “She wouldn’t lie to me. And now that she’s in trouble, you need to help her.”

I threw my hands in the air. “I didn’t do anything, Margo. Lucy ain’t in trouble because I glitched on her. She’s in trouble because she was caught on tape passing a sensitive document to some unknown.”

If anything I had said shocked Margo, she hid it well. Actually, she looked more defiant than scared.

“She knows who he is,” Margo said, staring at my chest. “They’ll get a name from her, you know they will.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the naïve girl sitting beside me. I reached for her cigarette case and lit myself another.

“No one knows who he is,” I replied. “You probably don’t even know him by any other name than him or he.”

She slid next to me, as in hips touching next to me. “Before the end of the day the government is going to arrest Selmo Nithiw. Then the whole world is going to know who he is.”

I maintained my calm and reached for one of her shaky hands. “Trust me, Margo. When I tell you this, I mean it.” Her eyes narrowed. “You, Lucy, them; none of you know anything. You’re so stupid that you think I’m engaged to Lucy. The government is four times that dense. Lucy’s somewhere in the middle. They couldn’t catch Selmo if we sat him in one of their interrogation rooms. So don’t worry your semi-pretty little head about it.”

I got up to leave without so much as a goodbye. Quite honestly, Margo didn’t deserve one.

“Are you going to try and help Lucy? Are you, Trent?”


“Already working on it,” I answered, still walking away. I doubt Margo heard me since she began to cry again.



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All material is the intellectual property of e a lake. Please don't steal it, but feel free to share this with anyone you might think will enjoy it. Also -- and this is a biggie -- if you have any input on the grammar, or content, or ideas for upcoming chapters, please make a comment. Let's create this novel together. And with your help, it can only become better.

Thank you,



e a lake


                      

Friday, March 3, 2017

"Glitched" - Chapters 11 & 12

Click on the chapter numbers below to read prior publishings:

1&2  3&4  5&6  7&8  9&10




Chapter 11


What we discovered wasn’t all that unexpected. We knew Lucy’s eventual fate. And now in front of us, in black and white, we read what the government had in store for her. Whether she deserved any of it or not.

Beginning at 16:00 Lucy was to be interrogated. According to the report Gareth had up on his monitor, she had been assigned to room B12H, deep in the bowels of station one. I guess people on the upper floors didn’t want to have to listen to the screaming when it began.

Two interrogators and three assistants had been assigned to the case. I didn’t recognize any of the names, but I was sure they all had plenty of experience. If Lucy was lucky, she’d be dead before 17:00. If not, the torture she’d have to endure would most likely be beyond brutal.

I’d heard rumors of what happened in the basements of stations one and two. If someone though the government wasted time making idle threats and snapping a few fingers, they were sadly mistaken. Unless a suspect gave up information immediately they were rarely able to be buried in an opened casket service.

A shrill whistle came from Gareth as he leaned forward in his chair. “You see the name of the second brute there?”

I glanced back up at the screen. “Fred Calhoun. Doesn’t ring any bells with me.”

Staring at me as if I should know, he shook his head. “Remember Wyatt Calhoun, from school?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough where I could picture a face. “Wyatt, Calhoun.” I gave it a little more thought. “I don’t think so, buddy.”

“Short guy, looked like a ferret,” Gareth replied. “Maybe five-six, skinny and even more slouched than you are.”

I chuckled and wandered into his kitchen, looking for something to eat. “You just described half the guys we went to school with, man. Gotta do better than that.”

“One of the last years in school, he started the toilet paper in the bathroom on fire.” Gareth was shouting and I could still hear his quick ticks on the keyboard.

“That was Chuck Nordeen, idiot boy. Remember? He got expelled and arrested all in the same 10-minute span.” I remembered that much, at least.

I found some kind of cookies in a rusty tin on the back of Gareth’s stove. Giving them a sniff, I decided they appeared edible. I grabbed a couple for myself and an extra one for Gareth.

I found my friend deep in thought when I returned to the living room. He didn’t even thank me for bringing him a treat, though it was from his kitchen. Closing his eyes, I watched as his mouth dropped open. Whatever he had for me was bound to be good.

“He hung out with that blonde bitch; the one who thought she was cooler than ice.” A quick peek at me should have told him I had no idea who he meant. But he kept nodding like I was close to knowing…which I wasn’t.

A finger jabbed at the air several times as Gareth searched for a name, or maybe a more accurate description. He snapped once but didn’t speak. Squeezing his lips into a tight line, he looked away.

“Penny..” he moaned. “Penny…shit, I don’t remember her last name.”

“Penny Lease?” I replied, mumbling because of the cookie in my mouth. Whoever had made them must have used twice as much sugar as the recipe called for. Still, I took another bite.

He snapped once more and pointed at me. “That’s it!” he exclaimed.

Getting more comfortable on the couch, I grinned at him. “First off, Penny Lease had red hair, not blonde.” That comment only made him shrug.

“Secondly, she never hung out with Wyatt Calhoun,” I continued, recalling the face and person from some years back. “She was way too hot for the likes of him.”

“So you do remember Wyatt, then?”

I nodded and smiled. “It came to me with the sugar rush just now. He was a real puke. I don’t recall him having an older brother, though.”

Gareth grinned and resumed surfing the government files. “Younger brother, brainiac. Wyatt had two older sisters, and one younger brother.”

I searched my memories for a Fred Calhoun but came up with nothing.

“The kid that dressed all in black and blew up frogs,” Gareth added.

Like a bolt of lightning, the memory struck me. “Shit,” I said, disgusted with the images floating through my head. “He got in trouble for torturing feral cats and dogs too, if I remember correctly.”

Gareth simply nodded. “He was branded a sadist, and from what I can tell from his file he’s only gotten better at it while employed as an interrogator for the past five years. He’s gruesome, dude. One of the worst; though, they call him one of their best.”

Scanning the large monitor on the wall, I felt my stomach twist. It wasn’t light reading; it wasn’t even something meant to intimidate anyone. The report of his duties and conduct stated the facts as if they were reporting the weather.

Broken fingers, broken toes, rocks crushed into forearms, heavy angle-iron brought down on thighs and backs. And that wasn’t even the good stuff. Mutilation was one of Fred’s specialties, I noticed. Most of the information before me made me want to hurl.

“That is one sick human being,” I whispered as Gareth mercifully switched screens. “He starts lopping off the ends of Lucy’s fingers and toes, she’s gonna tell him whatever he wants to know. Whether it’s the truth or not.”

Gareth looked pale, stroking his thick face. “I wouldn’t worry about those body parts. Some of the stuff they mentioned should only be done by a surgeon. Not some sadistic shit like Freddy Calhoun.”

We were quiet for a while, each lost in some nightmare that Lucy was about to go through. Or maybe we were worried that Fred Calhoun would be our integrator. If he did half of what his file showed he was proficient at to me, I’d have to find a way to force him to kill me before I squealed.

“We've got to do something for Lucy,” Gareth mumbled. ”Otherwise…” He let his words hang between us.


All I could manage for a reply was to nod in a small way. Yeah, otherwise.



Chapter 12


Per the clock on Gareth’s wall, we still had an hour and a half before Lucy’s interrogation was set to begin. If we remained frozen in place, the time would go quickly. Coming up with some sort of plan would take a while, I knew. At least it would give us something to do, other than imagining Lucy all mutilated before our eyes.

“He wants the building taken care of,” Gareth said after a long break. “If things look bad with Lucy, we need to get the codes to Riley so she can forward them to Stevie.”

I gawked at Gareth with my palms turned skyward. “How many steps does all of this take? Who dreams up this crap?”

He looked away as if he were pouting. If I had pissed him off, too bad.

“He does,” Gareth replied, “you know that. There’s layers to everything. Nothing could ever be traced back to him. The government may catch the last person in the chain, but the others are always safe this way.”

Thus were the dealings with the great and powerful Selmo Nithiw. Everything mired in three levels of mystery, wrapped in 20 pounds of shit. The last man standing in this war, the way I saw it, would be him…and only him.

“We need to come up with a plan to get Lucy out of there,” I said, pushing off the couch and wandering to a side window. Outside drizzle had begun, covering everything in a fine layer of moisture as if the world was covered in ice.

Behind me, I heard Gareth tap his foot on the floor. He was nervous, and I knew why. “We need to let it play out,” he replied.

I grinned, if only to myself. “You mean you need to let this play out…” I turned and faced him. “Don’t you?”

For some reason, he refused to look at me, and that meant I’d hit the exact nerve I was looking for. If he had been staring blankly at me, I would have known he’d never made the contact he’d been asked to. But since he wasn’t, well, I had my answer.

“She shouldn’t know enough of anything to make a difference,” he sighed, finally glancing my direction. “I gave her a message on the street one day; it came to me from Anuk. Whatever document she passed to the guy in the tape – and we don’t know for sure that’s him – was requested by someone up the food chain.”

“I guess I need to go and talk to Anuk then if I want any help.” I hoped to push my buddy one way or another; either help me or don’t. But please don’t stonewall me.

He rose and approached, his gangly robe-covered arms spread wide. “We can’t touch this, Trent. We got orders to wait and watch. No one is supposed to interfere. Just let it play out.”

“Orders from who?”

He shook his head and looked away. “You know who. Don’t play dumb, buddy.”

I began to laugh and reached out to give him a fake jab to the gut. “I didn’t hear anything from you know who. I bet you can’t show me an email or a note stating what you claim is true, do you?”

“We’re supposed to leave it alone, Trent.” For a weak-minded computer hack, he’d sure developed a spine lately.

“I’ll just go talk to Anuk,” I replied, making my way to the front door. “She’s the one who seems to have all the information I need. Maybe she even has an idea on how to get Lucy out of this fine mess we got her into.”

I felt a hand grab the back of my collar and I turned to push Gareth away. Given that he had 60 pounds and 10 inches on me, I didn’t accomplish what I’d hope to. Instead, I was more like a child trying to get at the cookies way up high on the top shelf.

“Lucy’s not getting out,” Gareth stated as serious as I’d ever heard him. “We’re supposed to let this play out. We aren’t supposed to get involved.”

I felt my lips draw into a tight line and my eyes narrow. “That’s not a plan,” I spewed. “That’s a lack of a plan. And you know it, Gar.”

His angry face didn’t change. Instead, he shook his head in tiny jerks. “You know it’s not your call. Only Selmo can save her now. It doesn’t work any other way, Trent. If we all start doing whatever we want, all of us could be dead within a month.”

I reached for the doorknob and looked back as I opened the screen. “If I don’t do something now, Lucy’s dead by tonight. If she squeals, because we all sat on our hands, you and I could join her by tomorrow night.

“We all have blood on our hands, Gareth. None of us are clean; not even close.” I thought about cutting off my diatribe at that point, but paused for another thought. “When they come to get me, are you just gonna sit on your stupid ass? Or will you do something? I’d like to think I’d move Heaven and Earth to save you. But the real question is, will you do the same for me…the same for Lucy?”

I was outside and halfway down the walk when he called out for me. If he thought I was coming back to debate the subject any further, well, I guess Gareth wasn’t all that bright after all.

“Trent,” he shouted. “Think about what you’re doing. If he finds out you’ve gone behind his back, you could be next. You don’t want that, buddy. Trust me on this one. Think of your friends, think of your mother…think of me, man.”

Turning slowly, I stared at his body – still covered in a ratty old bathrobe – standing in the entry way. He didn’t appear to be mad, or hurt, or even concerned. No, in his mind everything was factual, black and white.

“Doing nothing is the same as giving up, Gar. I’m not ready to give up on Lucy, even if you are.”

He didn’t reply and I didn’t hang around to listen for such. I needed to get to Anuk’s.


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All material is the intellectual property of e a lake. Please don't steal it, but feel free to share this with anyone you might think will enjoy it. Also -- and this is a biggie -- if you have any input on the grammar, or content, or ideas for upcoming chapters, please make a comment. Let's create this novel together. And with your help, it can only become better.

Thank you,


e a lake