When You Die

Chapter Seven

6:56 PM, layer 352, Apartment 6-b, Cattail apartments, April 23, 2019

Emma Mulberry held her hand up to signal to the police officer to stop knocking. She leaned her ear to the door, listening for any movement. "Open the door." She whispered to the officer. He nodded, took out his lock-pick, and fumbled with it for a minute. Emma rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe this; she had better things to do. She reached towards the doorknob, but instead of picking the lock, shot a spark of blue at the doorknob. The doorknob fell off, clattered to the ground, and then swung open with a creak.

She looked at the officer pointedly, and flourished her hand exaggeratedly. "After you, Brandon." She said with an eye roll.

The officer stepped carefully through the doorway. "Mr. Herdel, please show yourself. We have reason to believe that you are holding three females captive in your home." No response. They walked past an old oak table, and reached a closed door. He pushed it open, but saw nothing but a broom, a mop, a pair of glowing eyes, and cleaning supplies. Wait what? Oh n-! He started to run away, but a hand grabbed his wrist, and was about to hit him on the head, but his hand froze in mid air.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." Emma Mulberry said, looking into his half fear- half angered gaze through a wall of sparking blue. "Oh, I'm sorry, you can't move. But anyway, you might find yourself with a jail sentence of, well let's see, 120 years? Oh, excuse me, I misspoke, that's already the reality." She gestured toward Ada and the doctors huddled a few feet away. "I found them in your linen closet. You are under arrest, Bill Herdel, or whatever your real name is." She looked at him, expecting an answer, but he just glared back.

Emma shrugged. "We'll get to that later. But for now-" but suddenly, Bill Herdel disappeared.

She cursed loudly. "Dammit! He got away!" The officer rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock." He muttered. Emma glared at him. "Thank you. That was very helpful. But anyway, how did he even do that?! He was right there, and then he was gone!!" She picked up her walkie-talkie and put it up to her mouth. "Sir," she said to the chief of police, "I need you to meet me in my office in fifteen minutes." She paused for a minute and said, "I'll explain later. Thanks." She shoved it back into her pocket forcefully, and looked at Ada and the doctors.

"How are you three doing? Let's get out of here." She cut the zip-ties off of their wrists, and one of the doctors looked at up at her and said, "Thank you so much for rescuing us."

Emma Mulberry nodded briskly. "You're welcome." She turned to the police officer. "Brandon, get some officers to search this apartment inside-out." He saluted. "Yes ma'am." She turned back to the captives. "This is Mark Brandon, one of the two of our chief of polices. He is the person I trust the most."

He greeted Ada and the doctors, smiling as he shook their hands. "Nice to meet you. I'm excited to hear more about you when we get to headquarters."

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6:15 AM, Stay-Awake Coffee House, April 24, 2019

The man took a sip from a coffee mug that bared the shop's logo, but was now faded from too many times in the dishwasher.

He looked around him, and took in his surroundings. He was in an old coffee shop that had lost its lust many years ago. Maybe it was always like this. There were old wooden tables covered with scratches, and mitch-match wooden chairs with velvet cushions that swallowed you up when you sat in them.

The windows were blocked up with heavy velvet drapes adorned with fleur-de lis, and the steam from the copper tea kettle was making the shop humid, and the popcorn ceiling had started molding years ago. At the front of the shop, there was a counter and a case with a few straggling day-old pastries, and the shop was completely deserted.

He signaled to the waiter to refill his coffee cup, and saw his name tag stated his name was Bernard in big, bold letters. Bernard raised an eyebrow at the a girl across him, whose eyes were covered with darkly shaded sunglasses. She was slumped in her chair, a faint snore escaping her open mouth, her frizzy hair in tangles.

"What's up with her?" Bernard asked as he poured the coffee. It took a moment for the man to catch on to what the waiter meant. "Oh her, she'll be fine." He said, avoiding the question, then felt a foot collide with his shin, sending a sharp pain up his leg. "Could I have two almond croissants, please?" He asked the waiter, and Bernard went to the glass case and retrieved the pastries. The man nodded his thanks and the waiter went in the back of the shop, sat down, and opened a copy of Little Women.

The girl took off her glasses and sat up. The man spoke first. "You really need to learn not to kick people, Gretchen. It's bad manners." She glared at him. "You know I don't care about manners." She said, spitting out the last word. "It's nice to see you again, Phil. But you could have acquired me in any other way besides shooting me. I can't believe you found me. The science lab? Really?"

He smiled cheesily at her. "What do you mean? We saved you from being in jail for another 200 years." She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I would've been fine on my own."

The man sighed. "It's pointless to argue with you. It's been ten years since we shut down the organization, and sixteen years I've last seen you." Gretchen took one of the almond croissants. "Well, there have been other pressing matters." She said through a mouthful.

"Well, the real reason I stunned you was because-"

"Because you want to start up the organization again, I know, I know." She interrupted him.

"But-" he started.

"Phil, I really appreciate it, and I understand why you want to, but I can't. I just can't. I have some business to finish." She got up and started walking to the door.

"Your mother." Phil said. Gretchen stopped in her tracks. "Your mother." He repeated. "If you help us, then we'll help you find your mother."

She slowly walked back to the table and stuck out her hand. "Deal?" She asked.

Phil shook her hand firmly. "Deal."