Scott Nicholson - Liquid fear

“Yeah,” Burchfield said. “That ‘rage’ drug. I’ll back you on that, too, of course. I’m sure I can get my friends at CRO to cough up a little more seed money. But I need something to show for their investment.”

“So word’s getting around,” Briggs said, glancing at Mark.

“These drugs are critical to national security,” the senator said. “The CIA is already taking an interest. But if we keep this among ourselves, I’m sure we’ll all achieve our objectives.”

“I understand your concern. A man in your position, with so much to lose. Wallowing in the base human cesspool of fear and hate and paranoia must be so alien to you. Only true sociopaths can achieve political success, because compassion and humanity are the first casualties of any war.”

Burchfield’s lips quivered, as if he were just now grasping the fact that he was outranked.

“What do you want me do with him?” Kleingarten said, pushing the gun into Mark’s back.

“We have some extra rooms in the psych ward,” Briggs said. “Make sure our guests here are comfortable.”

“Damn it, Briggs,” Burchfield said. “You’re finished for good this time.”

“Scientists never finish, they just discover new problems,” Briggs said. “Try rooms three through five,” he said to Kleingarten.

He fished out his key ring and handed it to Kleingarten, who took it while keeping one eye on Mark. Briggs didn’t trust Kleingarten with the code for the electronic keypad. He’d use the remote-control button beside his monitors.

“Do we have to be back there with that screeching devil?” Forsyth said. “We’ll all go off the deep end if we put up with that for long.”

“It won’t be long, Mr. Forsyth. But I suggest you pray. I suggest you pray a lot.”

“That’s a mighty sad suggestion, coming from the likes of you,” Forsyth said.

“Your god is built on fear, so my discovery should put millions of people in touch with him eventually,” Briggs said.

“You’re the devil,” Forsyth said.

“Thank you for the promotion, but, please, let’s stay humble. There is still work to be done. Kleingarten?”

Kleingarten cocked an eyebrow, noting Briggs had used his real name. “Yeah?”

“After you’ve shown our guests to their rooms, please clean up the mess outside. You can park the limousine in the woods.”

“Whatever he’s paying, we’ll double it,” Burchfield bellowed, making a last play with the only weapon he had left.

Briggs waited while Kleingarten mulled the options.

Bad move, Senator. You should have offered him the job as your new bodyguard, something with prestige. A man like Kleingarten enjoys money, but it’s his ego that requires feeding, not his wallet.

Briggs decided that Burchfield had just lost his vote, should the man survive the scandal-and the night-and eventually show up on a presidential ballot. The senator was simply a lousy judge of character. He should have taken a few psychology classes in college.

“You heard the man,” Kleingarten said to his three captives. “Just follow the screaming and we’ll be there in no time. And, you, the praying guy? You better pray he doesn’t start in with ‘Home on the Range.’ Talk about hell.”

Mark took one step toward Briggs, but Kleingarten held the gun out with a smile.

Mark visibly tensed. “Where’s Alexis?”

“Don’t worry. Your wife will be here soon.”

“If you hurt her-”

“Please, Mark. We’re all friends here.”

“CRO’s pulling the plug when they find out.”

“You know something, Mark?” Briggs met the gaze of each of the others, so they would know his words were for all of them. “CRO, the U.S. government, the three or four shadow organizations keeping an eye on me, Al Qaeda, Mossad, and God knows who else? They want what I have. And I am the only one who has it. I’d say that puts me in the driver’s seat.”

“Go on,” Kleingarten bellowed at them. “I got work to do. All these corpses don’t hide themselves.”

As the four men navigated the dim corridor, Briggs checked the monitors, the security equipment, and the several little surprises he would soon spring.

He was in the driver’s seat, all right, and he was about to slam the pedal to the floor and let go of the wheel.

Roland squinted at the gate, which filled up the fat yellow beams of the headlights.

The dented yellow sign that said “No trespassing” was like a fleeting image from a long-ago dream, but it also sent off tiny warning flares in his head.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Wendy said. “It hasn’t changed much.”

“Are you sure?” Alexis said from the back seat. She’d gone quiet after taking her Halcyon dose, and Wendy had to relay directions despite the escalating effects of Seethe.

Roland glanced sideways at his estranged wife. In the dashboard lights, she glowed with a blue radiance, an ethereal and beautiful woman. He’d always loved her exotic, almond-shaped eyes and the mysterious pools of her dark, placid pupils.

Shit. Whatever this drug is, it’s making me love her again. But I never stopped loving her. I just started hating myself more.

“This is where we killed Susan,” Wendy said.

“I wish you’d quit saying that,” Alexis said with quiet resignation.

“Susan,” Roland said. “She was one of us, wasn’t she?”

“Don’t you find it strange that we could have loved each other after that?” Wendy said. “We are horrible, disgusting people.”

Susan’s death was just another dream image to Roland, but every time Wendy mentioned her, the girl’s face crystallized a little more in his mind.

Her smiling, sweet, chubby face.

And then the bloody and battered thing it had become.

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel so he would have some pain as a distraction. “Now what, guys? Ram the gate like in a movie? Or do we try to find another way in?”

“He’ll be expecting us,” Alexis said. “That’s what this is all about. He timed the doses to get us here now.”

She was right. His every step had been guided from the very beginning, since he’d woken up in Cincinnati with a corpse in the bathroom. In an odd way, the idea of manipulation gave him comfort, because it probably meant he hadn’t killed her.

But he could have. He was clearly capable. And probably more eager than he’d like to admit.

But that was the Seethe talking. He could almost feel the effect growing, like a sentient being slithering through his nervous system and dispensing its twisted brand of poison.

“Anita’s in there,” Wendy said. “One way or another, we have to go.”

Roland was about to respond when the gate gave a jerk and then began retracting.

“That was easy,” Roland said.

Wendy touched his arm, and a tingle raced up his flesh. He was afraid the Seethe might be exaggerating his response to her, but he welcomed the contact. No matter what happened, it was right and fitting that they were together for this.

“So, we all vote for going in?” Roland said.

“No choice,” Alexis said. “We’ll be out of pills soon. And we’re likely to have a total meltdown then. We either lose it out here or take our chances on finding some Halcyon inside.”

“You mean it gets worse? That we’re better off in there with Briggs than out here with Seethe taking control of our minds?”

“She’s a scientist,” Wendy said. “We better trust her on this.”

“We don’t know what we can trust anymore. Even each other.” He didn’t mean to say that last sentence, but he knew they’d all been thinking it.

One of the wonderful side effects of this nutty joy juice was paranoia, apparently. But maybe that wasn’t such a big discovery. After all, if this thing trimmed existence down to the bone, there was nothing left but survival instinct.