Deadly Secrets

Chapter 10: Bombshell

[Revised]

His name thumped inside Zara's head, in time with her heart.

Son of Fernando Rubair, owner of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in America. Student at Cornwell High. She connected the dots: the Butterfly was a drug, Maximilian went to her school, and now he wanted her head.

Zara walked along the empty sidewalk on automatic pilot, the awareness of her surroundings diminishing as she focused on the storm raging within. She didn't care for drugs, never did, never would. But one of her friends did since they had been desperate enough to steal from a pharmaceutical giant. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

How?

The whirlpool of her emotions spun frantically around that one word.

Was it worth it?

Of course not. Now they would all be persecuted until they either returned what they had stolen, or their heads were all on pikes and lining the entrance of the company's headquarters; a warning to all. But what would be the right thing to do? Pointing fingers, or take on the responsibility of finding the real culprit?

A sudden, horrible thought wiggled its way into the back of her mind.

What if the Butterfly...was in that house we just robbed?

Saffron hadn't gone into the specifics of the guy's place of employment, but the essentials were there. Vincent was a researcher at a pharmaceutical company. There were dozens of those in the state alone, but what was the probability that his employment was at the company? Then again, why would he keep highly-classified prototypes in his bathroom cabinet? 

Zara's stomach lurched once, twice, then all its contents were spewed against a wall. She clutched her stomach as she hurled a second time, then sucked her teeth as she leaned heavily against the building to recover her breath. The acrid smell of stomach fluids and that evening's fast-food remnants hung in the cold air, an ending worse to the start of the day. At least she managed not to get any of it on her shoes or clothing; she spat onto the floor to eliminate most of the bad taste, then started walking again, more slowly and less confidently this time.

I need to stop thinking about this. I'll sleep on it and hope that the night brings counsel.

In an effort to distract herself, Zara rummaged through the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out her cellphone. She brought it to life, frowning when she saw the battery symbol flash red. She had about five minutes to check the log for any missed calls from her grandfather before it died. Why wasn't anything working out for her?

She jabbed the keypad with her thumb as she speed-scrolled through the 'missed calls' section of the log. Nothing, Nada, Zilch. Not even a "Where are you?" text asking where the hell she was at two in the morning. Since when did Simon not spam her phone?

A despairing feeling of loneliness slowly began to settle into her bones, like forlorn waves oozing upon the seashore after a ravaging storm. Not even a single message from her friends, wondering whether she had gotten home in one piece. She really could have died up there, on the roof that building, and nobody would've cared.

Not her grandfather, not her friends.

Her hand went limp after pocketing her phone. What energy remained trickled out of every pore of Zara's body as she continued to direct herself towards seemingly nowhere. That's when her eyes caught a neon sign, flickering the logo in ubiquitous lights tinted green, orange, and blue. She squinted, shielding her face with her hand.

Joe's groceries, open 24/7.

Grim thoughts still weighing heavily on her shoulders, Zara dragged herself up to the sign, taking a closer look to ensure that it wasn't a hallucination. She smiled. If her memory didn't fail her, the apartment was only two blocks away.