The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 11: Rebirth (Parts 8 & 9 of 11)

The futility of the morning was wearing thin. The status meeting should have been over fifteen minutes ago but Jorgenson wasn't even listening. To Darren he said, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh." To Kevin, he said, "Good. Good. Keep that shoulder up." His hand traced the air like a maestro directing an orchestra.

Darren should have stayed to bed. What was the point of coming in early to prepare a brief that his boss had absolutely no interest in? Apparently, Jorgenson was just fine with a mole in the Tacoma R&D lab leaking formulas to the competition. Apparently, the business of SBI took a backseat to the boy's cosplay.

Kevin was shadow fencing to get the feel for a real sword. It wasn't as large as the prized Ulfberht sword on the mantle but it had the same chunky, wide blade, which hinted at ancient, barbarian battles. The boy wore a leather jerkin and a ridiculous tin pot of a helmet that swayed back and forth as he swiped the air in front of the hearth. The low embers of the fire raised the temperature of the cool, dark atmosphere of the office and kept him beaded with sweat.

"We have begun conducting interviews with all of the staff with access," Darren said, his tone drifting into a monotone recital of the facts. "And the forensic sweep of the computers is ongoing, although unless the spy is particularly inept, it's unlikely he stored anything on our equipment."

While Jorgenson corrected the boy's stance, Darren took the opportunity to glance at his phone. He hadn't heard from Gracie in over twenty-four hours. Ordinarily that would be a good thing but he was anxious to discover if her scheme was successful or had blown up in her face. Either way it meant he was free of the psycho and his family was safe. But there had been no news and he was left in limbo.

If she was successful, there ought to be something about it in the news—a man hunt or at least an APB. But so far, nothing. She was in such a hurry, so why was she waiting? Unless they shut her down before she could get started. Found her smuggling in the tools of her attack with the supply run and shot her on the spot.

He'd like to believe that was true.

What was so important to her to take the risk? She couldn't really care about the boy. Could she?

Kevin adjusted the straps on his armor and launched another offensive at an imaginary foe. He looked like a small child playing make-believe in his backyard.

"No!" Jorgenson said and Kevin froze. The usual fatherly kindness was absent from his voice. "How many times have I told you, do not lead so far with your left foot? It puts you off balance." He reached out and poked the boy's shoulder hard with two fingers. Kevin stumbled away, his feet pin-wheeling. He almost used the sword to balance himself but must have remembered the punishment he'd gotten earlier when he let it touch the ground. He kept the blade up but he landed on his butt with a loud, "Oooph."

When Darren realized he was watching the boy's humiliation with a grin, shame flooded in heating his face. Jorgenson was the monster here. Kevin was just a child being manipulated. And for what? To be another weapon in the big man's arsenal? An object of amusement today and an expendable tool tomorrow?

Barbara had said, she couldn't sit by and watch another child spend his life in a prison. Claimed she would have done something to help Amy if she was able, but the security at The Music Box had been too tight. The Ranch had weaknesses she could exploit, so she was going to risk her own life to get the boy out. Darren hadn't believed her. How could that succubus care about those children and threaten his?

"Go again," Jorgenson ordered Kevin.

"I'm tired."

"Do you think the beast will let you rest when you fight it? You will have to battle through dozens—hundreds—of its bloodthirsty minions before you can even reach it."