John Locke: Lethal Experiment

Elaine Peterson was an attractive, thirty-two year old brunette in the first stage of weight gain. She wore black sweat pants and an oversized Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt that probably belonged to her estranged husband, Grady.

“It would save time if I could talk to both of you,” I said. “Is Amber here?”

Not that Amber and Elaine were the most innocent people in town. They had used the bulk of their loan proceeds to buy drugs to resell to local high school kids.

Elaine started to turn her head toward the hallway but caught herself. “What’s this about?” she repeated firmly.

“Please,” I said. “Have a seat.” As she started to sit I bolted past her and raced down the hall. She managed to get off a loud scream, but by then I’d opened the master bedroom door and caught the very large Amber cocking a pistol. I lunged at her and managed to knock her off balance. As she struggled to keep from falling, I snatched the gun from her hand and spun around just in time to avoid Elaine’s flying fists. Elaine was too small to hurt me, but I smacked her in the nose anyway, in order to concentrate on Amber. I heard Elaine fall to the floor and figured that was a good place for her to stay while I dealt with her sister.

“What the fuck do you want?” Amber shouted, trying to make her voice bigger than it was.

She was handy, an accomplished bar brawler. At five-ten, two hundred forty pounds, she had some power. But her money punch was thrown in haste, before she’d got her feet under her. I jumped out of the way, set my feet and launched a hard back fist that caught her squarely on the temple. Amber shuddered a moment, then crashed to the floor. Moments later I had both girls face down on the master bedroom floor with their hands taped behind their backs. I rolled them over with my foot and taped their mouths shut.

Then I had a heart attack.

Chapter 3

“ There are two types of chest pain to worry about,” Dr. Webber said.

“Hang on a second, Doc,” I said. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

I pressed the button on my cell phone and forced myself to a standing position.

“Okay, go ahead,” I said.

“You sound terrible.”

I felt terrible. Moments earlier I’d crashed to the floor clutching my chest. Amber took that opportunity to flip and flop her enormous body, attempting to cross the floor and crush me like a beached whale flattens a sand castle. Luckily, the crushing pain had already begun to subside, but I was still weak and hurting, and it was a question of multi-task or face lethal consequences. I rolled out of her path while removing the syringe from my pocket. I flicked off the protective plastic and hurled myself toward the fat girl. I had to stretch to reach her, but I made the effort and managed to jab her neck. I don’t know if I had the strength to push in the plunger at that moment, but I didn’t have the angle. Either way, it’s a moot point, because Amber shook her head violently, and the hypodermic dislodged and skittered across the floor.

She tried to make the adjustment to flip-flop back to me, but I climbed on her back and rode her like the wild hog she was. Elaine flailed away, attempting to help her sister, but only succeeded in kicking the syringe back to me. I picked it up and pushed it into Amber’s neck and drove the liquid home.

Then I speed-dialed Darwin, my government facilitator, and asked him to get me a Homeland Security doctor. When Dr. Webber answered, I placed him on speaker phone.

Which brings us back into the moment.

“What are you doing right now?” Dr. Webber said, as Elaine shrieked in the background.

“Just tying up a few loose ends,” I said.

I took the second syringe from my pocket and slammed it into Amber’s sister. She stopped in mid-scream.

I immediately felt a stab of my own, in the center of my chest. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Now, what was that about the two kinds of pain?”

“Okay, well there’s the squeezing kind that feels like you’re squeezing a tube of toothpaste. Except that your heart is the toothpaste.”

I staggered, but remained on my feet. I propped myself against the nearest wall to keep from falling. I still had to wipe down the scene before trying for my car.

The doc continued. “The second kind is like an elephant standing on your chest.”

“Bingo.”

“Okay,” he said, “Don’t panic. It’s important that you lie still. Is anyone with you?”

I looked at the two bodies on the floor. “Only in spirit,” I said.

“Okay, that’s not so good. Do you have any aspirin? If you do, take one. But first, give me your location and I’ll send an ambulance.”

“I can’t do that,” I said.

I ended the call and put my hand in my pocket to feel my lucky silver dollar, the one my grandfather gave me when I was a kid.

“Don’t fail me now,” I said to the coin.

I called Darwin back and told him to send a chopper two miles northeast of Camptown, on 706. “And send someone to take my rental car back to Scranton.”

“This isn’t Sensory business. You’ll have to reimburse the expenses.”

“Of course.”

Sensory Resources is the division of Homeland Security for which I work.

I paused.

“What else?” he said.

“Better send a couple of extra guys. I need them to clean a crime scene for me.” I gave him the details.

“It’s going to be very expensive. Shall I call you back with the total before you commit?”

I sighed, which caused a new round of pain to surge through my body. On the bright side, the pain seemed to be heading away from the center of my chest.

“I’ll cover the costs,” I said, “but let’s get this thing in motion.”

“You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

His question caught me by surprise. The thought of dying never crossed my mind. Through all the years of being shot at and bombed and targeted by foreign death squads, and all the years I’d been testing weapons for the Army—it suddenly dawned on me that I’d never considered the possibility of dying.

And still didn’t.

I forced a laugh. “I’m immortal, Darwin.”

He paused, processing the comment. Paused long enough for me to wonder if he might be thinking this could be the perfect time to ambush me. I’m Darwin’s top guy, I control Callie and Quinn and Lou Kelly and a half-dozen other trained killers.

On the other hand, I know a lot about the government that wouldn’t look good on 60 Minutes or Dateline .

“Anyone else know about your current situation?” Darwin said.

My best insurance against Darwin was my associates.

“Just Callie and Quinn.” Figured I might as well let him think about those two hunting him down if anything happened to me.

“Camptown?” he said. “Like the song? What state?”

“Pennsylvania,” I said. “Look it up.”

“Doo Dah!” he said.

Victor was right. It wasn’t funny.

Chapter 4

Trinity Hospital, Newark, New Jersey.

The treatment rooms in the Heart and Vascular Unit were small, but mine had a window that overlooked the freeway. I was lying semi-reclined in a hospital bed, wearing one of those open-assed hospital gowns, watching the traffic, thinking how amazing it was that so many people had places to go. Did all these people have families and friends and jobs and people who depended on them? These thousands of people intersecting my life by passing my window at the very moment I watched them.

I focused on a single car, a cherry red Ford Mustang with a tan rag top, circa 1997. It was in my viewing range for maybe twenty seconds. I wondered if the driver was a man or woman, and if our paths had ever crossed. Maybe our paths were destined to cross in the future, and the driver of the Mustang would someday change my life. Maybe the driver has a child who will grow up to be the man or woman who eventually kills me. Or perhaps, moments from now, while attempting to exit the freeway, the driver will be sideswiped and fatally injured. Perhaps emergency rescue personnel will check his or her wallet and find a donor card, and the driver of the cherry red Mustang’s heart would be harvested just in time to save my life tonight.