Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 12

"Will!" called Louis.

People scrambled away from the car lot, others, most of the soccer team, ran towards the blast. A singed, smoking soccer ball bounced past. Louis scanned the clone-like cars, looking for a brown haired Fanboy in a black jacket. Ten yards away from the smoking remains he found him, lying on the ground behind a white, now ashen, Honda. He knelt by him and Massaru came up quickly, checking Will's face and chest, only to hear a groan of complaint.

"Ah... my arm."

Massaru and Louis turned Will onto his back. Will's left arm was scratched from hitting the ground, the area around the blood forming a sizable bruise. But it wasn't broken, and after checking Will's eyes and head Massaru confirmed no internal injuries. A soccer player, the same one that called for the ball ran over, pale and shocked.

"Is he okay?"

"He will be fine," assured Massaru. "But get a bag of ice for his arm and a first aid kit."

The player nodded and ran to the Rental building and calling his teammates. Massaru dragged over his luggage and took out antiseptic cream and a thin bandage from a plastic red case.

"Why'd you send him for a first aid kit if you have one in your bag?" asked Will.

"To keep him occupied," said Massaru. "And I do need to keep your arm cool."

"And to keep the scene clear while we get a look it at," said Louis. "Now get to your feet, Fanboy. It's just a scratch."

"Yeah," hissed Will as he sat up. "Nearly blow up and "it's just a flesh wound"."

Louis held Will's side, keeping him upright as they walked towards the smoldering wreck. The surrounding automobiles had their windows shattered or in web-scatter patterns. Most of the damage happened inside the car. The upholstery peeled and melted over the fragments left of the dashboard. If anyone had been in the car when the bomb went off, they would have been barbeque.

An ambulance and fire truck approached the car lot.

"What happened?" asked Louis.

Will coughed at the burnt plastic and rubber smell. "I was following the ball and I saw it bounce the car, right under the back bumper. Then, bang. I hit the deck."

"A bomb," said Louis. "Probably had a loose wire or was connected wrong and went off when it was hit."

"Great. Someone sent us the bomb." Will tilted his head. "Louis, what number parking spot was our car supposed to be in?"

"D125; somewhere between D124 and Neverland."

Will pointed to the blackened sign in front of the former car. D125.

"I hope car replacement insurance was in our rental package."

***

"All I'm saying is there should be medical coverage for it," said Reese.

"And I'm saying it's a deserved consequence for those that don't ask about what they're eating," said Beni.

"You hated it just as much as I did!" protested Reese.

Rachel blinked, put aside her lunch, and leaned back in her chair. She pointed to Reese. "Let me get this straight. You think that spicy food should be considered a hazardous substance and therefore any damage, mental or physical, should be included under medical insurance."

"Yes."

"And what brought this... intelligent discussion up?"

"Massaru's curry of death," replied Beni.

"You tried his curry?"

"Yes, and it was so spicy it felt like my whole face was on fire!" said Beni.

"What I don't get is how Milton seemed fine after his first bowl and went back for seconds," said Reese. "Did his mother put Tabasco in his baby bottle?"

Rachel smirked, liking the squirrely shrink better and better. "Did you actually see him eat the curry?"

Beni and Reese stood still like children finally told Santa wasn't real. "No," they said in unison.

"Then let me point out a few things," said Rachel, holding up one of her chopsticks. "One, don't play around with the temporary shrink. And two, like hell anyone would put spicy food under their medical insurance. That's why people who participate in spicy hot-wing contests sign wavers. Shoo!"

Even as the two of them left, Rachel could still hear the argument in the hallway.

"Told you I was right."

"You still hated it."

Rachel shook her head. Super spicy curry of death? She'd have to get a bowl of that. She checked her clock and bolted down the rest of her food. Twenty minutes until her video chat with Palmer and she had notes to go over before the call.

***

"It was triggered prematurely?" raged Sandra over the payphone, holding it with a tissue. She had parked the beat up car between a cheap motel and a convenience store on the outskirts of the San Francisco Airport. Luckily, the store sold sanitizer, and down the street a Batteries and Bulbs advertized "buy two get one free". She could pick up a UV light to see just how much filth she had to deal with in the next rented room.

"We had to work fast," said the male voice on the line. Mark was a specialist on her list of contacts and usually reliable when she had a job.

Usually.

"You gave my crew a very short timeframe to work with, and any slower and we would have been caught by airline security. Airports are a bitch to get in and out of."

"So Massaru Devi is fine and now he knows that he's being targeted," hissed Sandra, letting a plop of sanitizer squeeze from a fresh bottle and onto her arm, rubbing it in. Most likely the Indian Doctor would be carted back to Watch, and then her chance at revenge would be gone. "Do you have a visual?"

"No, we didn't have time to put up surveillance. We got confirmation of the blast via binoculars and that there were no deaths through the police scanner."

"Get closer and keep an eye on Massaru. You have his description, and see if there is anyone with him."

"Just keep an eye on him?"

"Yes! That's what I'm paying you for. If you couldn't kill him you could at least look at him and tell me when he moves."

She hung up the payphone, quickly spreading the sanitizer to her hands and throwing away the tissue. Filth in the streets, homeless huddled against the buildings, grime and the smell of urine everywhere. God, she hated cities like this. Once settled in to her motel room she would sign back into the Watch Network and see what other options she had.