Red Alert/Red Notice (The "Super Jerk" Prequel)

20 - Transfer Affection

^^Above, chapter title credit: song by A Flock of Seagulls.^^

{Raina}

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" I ask for about the fourth time. Ridley had cornered me coming out of class, and had then practically dragged me out of the building. Now we're in the car and speeding along the icy road with dark pine trees rushing by on both sides.

"No," he says curtly.

"I really don't know what you want, Ridley. I just—"

"Be quiet," he snaps. "I don't like talking anyway."

I bite my lip. I never liked him at his best, but seeing him now, I feel a small seed of something worse. I can't tell what it is yet, but I don't like it. It's the same feeling I got whenever Dad looked at me or touched me. Instead I twist my hands in my lap, trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness growing in my stomach. Ridley seems bent on something here, and it has to do with me. I can't possibly imagine what it could be.

Then, suddenly, he swerves off the road and we're bumping along a dirt path that looks like it hasn't been used in a while. He's making the first tire tracks.

"Here," he says finally, stopping the car at the end of the road. Through the trees, I see the front of a cabin, but unlike the time he did this with Geoff, it doesn't look abandoned. In fact, it actually has smoke coming from the chimney.

He gets out, going around the back. I hear the thump of the trunk opening, and him rummaging around in it. Then another as he closes it, and he knocks on my window as he passes. Come on, he mouthes at me. As I get out, I see him carrying something that looks like a toolbox.

I step inside the cabin, and the first thing that strikes me is how juxtaposed it is next to Ridley's personality. It looks like it should belong to some nice old lady who makes gingerbread cookies on Christmas and collects porcelain figures. Except for the spread on the table in front of the fireplace. Bottles, at least fifty or sixty of them, are lined up on it, all filled with a green liquid. I inch forward, picking one up and holding it up to the light. It's about as viscous as water, and about as transparent.

"Like what you see?" Ridley's voice comes from behind, and I nearly drop the bottle as I whirl around.

"I don't—" I shake my head. "I don't even know what it is."

"Well, surely Geoff told you about it. That I tried to test it on a super." He sneers. "But I'm not going to let that deter me, because I'm going to use a different test subject this time."

"You are?" I don't see any young girls anywhere, tied up or anything else. He couldn't possibly think of experimenting on me, because I'm not even super — but he knows exactly what'll provoke Geoff, meaning I wouldn't put it past him.

"Yeah. It's me."

"You?" That surprises me so much I can't get anything else out.

He raises an eyebrow, and as he passes me, he runs his hand across my hip. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I just didn't think...you don't even know if it works."

"Well, I didn't know how chemical inhibitors in the brain worked either, but I found that out pretty quickly, didn't I?" He sets the toolbox down under the table and opens it, taking out a syringe. "Relax. This is the part where you come in."

"Me? What can I do?" I don't even know what it is.

"You're gonna stick me with it," he says casually, like somebody would say You can set the table.

"What?" I shake my head.

"Come on. It's not so hard to understand." Impatience now, creeping into his voice. "I can't get anyone to volunteer for this, can I? So I'm gonna try it on myself."