Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 31

Louis bumped into a piece of furniture a second time, his injured hand taking the worst of it.

"Damn it," he hissed holding his hand against his lips, tendons from knuckles to wrist going through spasms. The tinted contact lenses were quickly losing their novelty. Without them the lightening might make him shrink, but with them he was blind. And he didn't have a weapon. If it came down to hand to hand combat in the dark he'd be near useless. Helen Keller would do a better job of searching the place.

Louis's good hand felt around the walls near the foyer to the front door, and nearly knocked over something tall, metal, and cold. The bronze vase, shining silver in band of lightening.

Why not? It felt hefty enough to do damage, and long enough to swing one handed like a bat. Good enough for him. As long as Will didn't make a crack about it.

After checking the front door, back door, and the latches to the windows, he went up the stairs. Will met him outside their bedroom, gun drawn. Seeing Louis, he signed in relief and put the safety on.

"Didn't see anything or anyone," Will said. "And I checked the phones, they're still working."

"Great, either we're being targeted by idiots who don't know how to cut a phone line, or we just got jumped up over a natural blackout."

"I'm guessing the latter." Will paused, frowning at Louis and what he held. "Is that the—"

Louis held up the vase, waving it to emphasize his words. "Don't. Say. A word."

Before Will could retort, a beeping trill came from the guest room. Louis' cell phone. Louis handed the vase to Will and picked up the glowing cell. Watch Two.

"I hope you have good news."

"That depends on your definition of "good"," replied Cetz.

"Yeah, let me just whip out my dictionary and get on that." Louis glanced over his shoulder and found Will right next to him, trying to listen. Louis turned his back to him, staring at the barely rumpled bed. "Massaru's house just blacked out. We're thinking it's just the storm, but me and Will are on alert. Anything you can give us would be helpful."

"Hm. One second." Over the line computer keys tapped. "According to what I can get of the electric grid in your area, the blackout isn't just you guys, it's the whole county."

Louis huffed. "Awesome."

Will tapped his shoulder. "Mind sharing?"

Louis rolled his eyes, and then blinked hard, trying to keep the contacts from moving about his eyes. He put the cell on speaker and held it between them, the blue glow of the screen banishing the harsh black and white of the storm.

"We've got a small lead on Sandra," continued Cetz. "Seems she rented a car and is on the move. We're working on identifying it and putting eyes on her."

"Again, questioning your definition of "good" news," said Louis.

"The roads up to Massaru's house are still blocked. She'd have to take a four hour detour up through the mountains far to the west to find a road to where you are. Unless California has one hell of a team of road workers, there won't be any roads for another day. You guys can get out, but she can't get in without a whole lot of trouble."

"Like a reverse lobster trap," said Will.

Louis looked up at Will, one eyebrow lifted and his eyes reflecting specks of gray-blue, and a general sense of 'what the hell'.

"It's a valid analogy," protested Will.

"Listen," continued Cetz. "I'll keep my feelers out for any information about the roads around your area. If any of them open up I'll call you. Meanwhile, rest up. If she is going to hit the fan it will hit tomorrow."

"Any word on Reese and Beni?" asked Will.

"Not since they checked in. They mentioned getting to you through hell or high-water, but I don't know how." A female voice cut through the background. "Wait a sec guys, Rachel wants to talk to you."

"Okay guys, we got some new news on Sandra Pearl."

"Hit me," said Louis.

"Turns out she is extremely antisocial and germaphobic. If you encounter her, use caution. After all she's been through to try to kill Massaru she might be mentally unstable."

Louis and Will were silent for a beat.

"So the crazy bitch is afraid of germs and dirt?" said Louis. "That's it?"

"What were you expecting?"

"The location of her self-destruct button would be nice," said Will.

"I'm giving you what I got. Make due. And guys, if Watch One gets there, play nice, but not too nice."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Will.

"It means they might get grabby," said Louis. "Anything else?"

Cetz got back on the line. "Not right now. Rest. If your situation changes call us, we'll have the switchboard open."

"Got it, and out." Louis jabbed the screen to hang up. The plush blue glow of the room changed to white flashes and shadows. "Wonderful. We got bomb making goons and a psycho bitch coming after us, and we're still in the dark. Literally and figuratively."

Will lifted the bronze vase. "I'll just put this back downstairs while I keep watch."

"You still have an hour and a half left to sleep."

"Trust me, I won't be able to."

Once Will left the room Louis sought out the bottle of aspirin via his cell phone light and took two. If Will wanted to drive himself into the ground, fine. It would prove Fanboy's idiocy.

Louis turned the faucet on to the coldest water and thrust his hand under the flow, trying to get the ache out of his tendons. A dried piece of floss clung to the vanity counter and he flicked it off into the trash can.

Will had taken two people inside himself, and then dragged them out, alone, with floss.

What more proof of idiocy did one need?

Louis looked out to the shadow of the bed. It looked more comfortable than the cot and sleeping bag Paro had set out next to it, and yet he paused. He already wore Will's clothes, but getting into the same bed with the sheets probably still warm from Will's body...?

He went for the cot.

***

Ram rose off his knees from sitting next to the air vent. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at roots. What had they brought into their home?

***

There was stealing a helicopter, and then there was "stealing" a helicopter. Beni and Reese agreed to act on the latter.

After five vodka shots, the portly pilot softened to Benita's smiles and her put on Chinese accent. He laughed more, leaning into her touch on his bomber jacket. On his shoulder, the detailed patch for flight tours frayed, an honor that had seen better days.

Reese, on the other side of the bar, nursing an energy drink with too sour cranberry juice, shook his head. He didn't get how Beni's "Chinglish" upped the attraction factor. It grated on his ears. Perhaps it was the grammar. Or the fact that he knew it was as fake as the "leather" on the bar stools. But he could appreciate the effect.

"And... how fast you fly... cho-par?" said Beni, pitching her voice to a meek falsetto.

"Pretty fast, darlin'," the pilot drawled. "We don't got an apache in the hanger, but what we got is fast enough."

"Ah. I... always wanted to see... rising sun that way."

The pilot's smile went soft and goofy, and with a little blush. "With a little paperwork that can be arranged."

Reese hid his smile behind his glass. Good work, Chinglish.