Addicted In Cold Blood (43 page)

“What about your family, Xzion? What about all of these people?” his father shouted.

“I never said I was stopping the operation,” he said calmly as he began to move amongst the army, daring them with his eyes to touch him. The red laser beam began to boot and kick harder and harder into gear as he internally self-repaired his cut wiring. They hadn’t done the surgery—he was ready...

“But I have another duty now, too. I owe her, she is my responsibility. Her needs are equally important, Father.”

And with that, he raced out of the room toward the military vehicle garage to retrieve a pod, and travel back to Earth at warp speed.

****

Three days later...

Jayme had nothing further to say. She needed to make her move, and that was that. Jayson sat on the toilet lid and looked down at his sister soaking in the bubble bath.

“So just like that, huh? I just got you back, and you’re going to risk your life and get out there and get killed. They’ll bury your death, say it was an accident or worse yet, you’ll just disappear. This time for
good
.”

“Jayson, I can’t keep running.” Her eyes desperately searched his for understanding. “I made a mistake by walking away, and now, I’m a bull’s-eye, a big red target.”

“You can’t take the FBI down, Jayme, not by yourself. You don’t have that type of clout.”

“I’m not trying to, Jayson. I just need to take care of the ones responsible for this. They don’t even know I’m alive, and once I get rid of Agent Bryant, Peterson and Brown, I will be able to hold my head high, take my money, and go live in
Costa Rica.” She grinned, blowing a bubble across the room. Jayson smiled sadly, extended his finger and popped it.

“So that was your plan?”

“Yes. He and I were going to do it together, of course. That way,” she shrugged, “after a while, I could re-enter the country with my new identity and no one would be alive to challenge it, to declare otherwise.  It was all set up. Before I’d leave, I would make sure they knew I was alive, make myself accessible for them to nab, tell ’em I knew where the ‘XXX’ killer was and that I killed him... and Xzion would be right behind me, lurking. He’d wipe all of them out as soon as I said the word.” She hated that she was ‘getting off’ on the thought of the extra-terrestrial being she’d shared her body and heart with slaying the agents in her honor.

She wanted a piece of the action too though, and told him so. He finally conceded, told her fine, Peterson would be all hers. He’d leave the best for last. The prized asshole wouldn’t know what hit him.

“I wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore, nor with the shame of not seeing the mouse trap laid out for me. Xzion and I were going to move somewhere nice, get a place together...” She dropped her head, feeling a combination of woozy and depressed. Jayson’s hand settled on her shoulder—a comforting touch.

“I have to do it myself now though, and I can. I can’t go back to Xzion.”

“Why not, Jayme? This is too dangerous for you to tackle alone.”

She smiled and shook her head before gently laying her wet hand on his knee. “If I told you, you’d swear I was smoking your old supply.”

*
***

“Goddamn it.”

Xzion made his way through the pilfered mess of his house. He felt his brain swelling and without the ice chips, he was going to be hurting soon. He looked down at his empty wrist. He had no way of contacting back home, to ask questions, and no one would speak to him anyway. No doubt that he was marred and considered the ‘black sheep’, a bastard of their society—technically, AWOL. He stepped over the fragmented debris in the hallway, the once beautiful home a shadow of its former self, and entered the master bedroom. He looked at the overturned bed and was immediately inundated with memories of her and his subsequent fast fall into the perils of withdraw. His body, mind and heart had gone into shock once he realized she wasn’t coming back. He never expected it, but it happened nevertheless. He had simply lay there, waiting to die...

In the storage area, most of the items were gone. However, far in the back, was a box full of ammo and two guns—one a semi-automatic, and the other, a rifle. A beam lay across them, and he was grateful they were blocked from view, or they, too, would’ve been confiscated.

“This’ll have to do. It’s always best to have a little back-up in case something goes wrong.” He grabbed them and made his way into the lab—nothing but broken glass. All of his work and research was gone. He’d been stripped, even the small laptop he kept off to the side and the external hard drive were all gone. Regardless, he remembered it. He remembered
everything
. He’d simply need to write it all down again. He’d prove to them that he was worth his weight in blood, but first, he needed to find her.

I’m ready, let’s go...

He placed his hand over his right eye, testing the lens. It booted up, clicking and turning. A red laser beam shot from it, cutting a chair in two.

“Perfect.” He grinned as he left out the door, on his way to
her.

****

Jayme lay back against the living room wall in her empty apartment, her foot propped up as she shook her head in disbelief. All that remained were two partially packed boxes with Tupperware and an old bathroom rug. She surmised Wanda and her mother couldn’t fit them into the moving truck, so they’d left them behind. She’d already been to storage, broke into the facility the evening before and entered the shed after picking the lock and disarming the alarm, but her guns were nowhere in sight. All she had was the glock-17 she bought hot off the street. The sweet semi-automatic Xzion had given her she’d dropped one night as she raced away in the darkness, fleeing the suspicious eyes of a drunk woman calling her by her mother-given name. She blamed it on the sparse make up. Despite the cheap wig, the woman pinpointed her, causing her to flee. She heard the damn weapon fall, and when she doubled back to retrieve it after the coast was clear, it had vanished.

After that, she came up with plan B. Glocks were never her gun of choice. They had a tendency to jam more often than her beloved and trusty Ruger LCP that she kept tucked near her side while she slept at night. This happened especially when the slide was operated by hand and even with Blazer Brass 9mm bullets, it would do the same damn thing. Some she surmised as operator error; she could be a bit heavy handed and this was no time to gamble. The gun made her uneasy, but it would have to do.

She didn’t know how long the place would be vacant, but if she could place a call from there, the FBI would come running. She played the scene out in her mind, the fake call of distress, as if she’d narrowly escaped death. She’d explain she’d been trapped by him and he let her go...no, that would never do, they’d never believe he’d let her live and furthermore, she’d have no leverage.

With Xzion in the plan, it didn’t matter what they believed, because it was fool proof. She felt safe with him; he wouldn’t let them get her. Now that she was doing it solo, the plan had to be altered. She snapped her fingers and began to pace.

That’s it...tell them I’d been tracking him the entire time, that he didn’t know I was there. Tell them I shot and killed him after entering his home this morning. Ask them to meet me at a private location, and then spray those motherfuckers!

Xzion’s semiautomatic would’ve taken care of this, pronto. She knew now why he gave her that specific gun that he had out of all the ones he owned. She looked down at the Glock in her hand with disdain. It didn’t matter, it had to be done. She had to have faith in her abilities, and the thirst for revenge had to be quenched. They’d taken her life away from her, and she was damn sure going to get it back...

*
***

Xzion stood in the middle of the street. The zooming cars and people made him dizzy with all of their rapid movement. He was adjusting to night vision, practicing his view in complete darkness, so he stood there, scanning the area and turning the world around him pitch. It had been a while, and he needed to amp up his skills. It was like riding a bike, one never forgot, but he was rusty, and he refused to take any chances. Night was falling, and so was he, right in the middle of a mind state called crazy with worry. He’d already stopped by Jayme’s apartment, sure she wasn’t there—that would be far too obvious—but it was his first stopping ground for clues. He looked inside and saw everything was gone. He cased the place, seeing no FBI agents in sight, but he had the nagging feeling they’d recently been there. They were like wet dogs—even when the animal was gone, their stench still lingered.

He hoped to gain clues from two boxes left inside, but when he didn’t, he kicked the plastic bowls around in frustration. 
Baltimore was too fucking big. She could be anywhere by now. He was fairly certain she’d at least stayed in the state; that was where the local FBI Agents were and he had seen that look in her eye—she wasn’t going
anywhere
until she’d gotten a piece of them. The woman actually had an earth-shattering orgasm one afternoon while he’d whispered in her ear all the things they’d do to them, before they flew off in a plane to start a new life. She’d fallen apart beneath him, her pussy clenching around his throbbing cock, making him love her even more...

Damn it! Where are you, Jayme?

Then, as he was about to pull his hair out, trying desperately to figure out where she may have fled, he recalled her brother’s name...Jayson. With no wrist computer, he found a small corner library and maneuvered around to the archaic computers all lined up, sitting equally apart on long tables.

Every single one was occupied. He chewed his lip, crossed his arms and made a decision. He hated that he had to do it, but he was short on time. One teenager, wearing a faded, black shirt that read, ‘I’m The Last Genius’ and donning braces, kept surfing MTVs website. He wouldn’t budge as he breathed annoyingly through his nasal passages, causing a whistling sound that grated Xzion’s sensitive hearing and his damned nerves. Xzion figured he’d have to do, hoping the little mindless weasel wasn’t on anything. He took over his brain, immediately detecting what fuel his head was using. Luckily, all that was in his system was a frozen pizza, two Capri Suns and cheap candies that he couldn’t identify.

Concentrating with all of his might, he forced the lad up on his feet, making him walk away from the computer and go sit down at a table with a random book from the nearby shelf...but he couldn’t wipe the blank, stupid look off the kid’s face. Too bad, time was wasting. Xzion quickly took the warm seat over and pulled up the directories. He typed in various spellings for the name, ‘Jayson’, and finally located an address for Jayson Knight. He had been completely prepared to hack the local police database and extract it that way if it wasn’t listed, but that would’ve taken longer, and taking over a public library computer to do such, wasn’t exactly ideal. He memorized the information and stormed out of the library, almost forgetting about the poor kid in the back of the room.

Fuck!

He back tracked and leaned in front of the boy. “In ten seconds, after you no longer hear my voice, you will walk back over to the computer you were at and continue your day. Oh, and stop eating those Totino pizzas. They are contributing to your pimples.”

****

“If I tell you any more, I could make things worse, Jayson!” his sister screamed as she raced out of his bathroom, a small bag over her shoulder.

“What are you about to do? Where are you going?!” he demanded, jerking her back and restraining her. She’d shown she was in no mood for a drag out fight. Yet, although she was strong, he was stronger, and he’d rather go at her than have some hood take his sister down. Their eyes locked, and a private conversation began, one void of words but full of meaning. He was worried sick about her, and some of it was for selfish reasons—he’d readily admit that. She was his key to his new lease on life. She’d inspired it all.

Don’t go...

“I am getting ready to do what I should have done as soon as I got back here,” she said vehemently. “It’s time to take action.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, grabbed some papers off the kitchen counter and rounded the living room pillar, barreling toward the front door.

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had gotten into her. Just moments before, he’d walked into the apartment and discovered her in the bathroom. He banged on the door after she didn’t respond, heard her quickly shuffling around, then she’d flung the door open and marched past him, refusing to make eye contact. He tried to stall her, to calm her, to get more information, but she seemed panicky and enraged. With a look of complete and utter terror on her face, she then seized him, kissing him hard on the cheek and hugging him so tightly, he thought the girl he called little sister may break him in two. She raced out the door after their disagreement, leaving it wide open and him standing there, in utter confusion.

After a while, minutes turned into an hour, and he made his way into the bathroom after having a cigarette and a frozen dinner in an effort to cool his jets and calm his tangled tensions.

What was she doing in here? Why was she acting so strange when I knocked on the door?