Unleashed (10 page)

Her shoulders relaxed. A little. "I know."

"I'll let you go home after I ask Logan a few questions. Why don't you rest on the couch until I'm done?"

"Sure." Smith walked out of the room, leaving her alone again.

Claire had every intention of collapsing on the cornmeal sofa, but her feet wouldn't move in the suddenly enormous room. The humming of the fluorescent lights above her seemed to be growing louder, and the strong smell of sweat and copy paper stung her nostrils.

She stood there for several minutes, focusing on her breathing again. In and out. Slowly. Thinking of nothing else until a prickling, like the sharp end of a thousand needles, began to drag its way up her spine until it burst from her skin in a violent shiver.

Claire turned around. Frozen on the television screen was Gage staring directly into the camera. His lips were turned up on the ends like he was about to laugh. She hadn't noticed before, but now, as she stared at his cold image, at his dark eyes, she swore they were challenging her. To what, she didn't know.

She walked to the TV and turned it off. When her reflection appeared in the TV’s black glass, she quickly turned away.

"Claire?"

She jumped and whirled around.

"Smith said we could go,” Logan said. “He decided to have a cop park outside your house for a few days while you’re home. And he wants you to write an official statement and bring it back tomorrow."

"Where is he?" She wanted to thank him.

"He's out there talking to the guys. Probably telling them about what happened. Do you want to sneak out the back?"

Claire nodded. Logan knew her so well. The last thing she needed right now was a bunch of sorry looks from the other officers. "Thank you, Logan. I owe you so much. I always do."

His jaw clenched tight. "Don't say that. Ever. You will never owe me anything, and I will always be here for you. Even if you are dating a moron." He smiled, but it looked forced.

"I'm not dating him officially. We're just hanging out." She started toward the door. "Did you get a hold of him?"

"I did."

"And?"

Logan didn’t look at her. "I let him have it for standing you up. Maybe if he'd been there, this wouldn't have happened."

Claire didn’t believe that was true, but she was curious as to where he was. "Did he say why he didn’t come?"

Logan’s brown eyes met hers, and she saw both passion and bitterness lurking in their faded depths. "I'll let him tell you. He'll be at your house when we get there."

As much of a support as Logan was to her, she couldn't wait to see Ethan. She craved his strong and calm demeanor. He reminded her of a rock amidst a raging waterfall, oblivious and untouched by the constant turmoil around him.

Logan didn’t say much to her on the drive to her house. She could tell by the way he tapped his thumb against the steering wheel to music barely playing from the radio, and the way he kept glancing at her that he wanted to talk more about what had happened, but thankfully he said nothing as she stared out the side window, following the dark horizon. Fog still clung stubbornly to land and she couldn't help but wonder what it was hiding.

Or who.

A block from her house, Claire saw Ethan's car in the driveway. It was then that she remembered to ask Logan a question. "What did you tell Smith? About what you saw at the beach?"

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I didn't see anything. I wish I would've. I only knew there was a problem when I saw you running past the grocery store." Logan pulled into her driveway. "I'll come by tomorrow. If you need anything at all, please call me."

"I will. I promise." She turned to him, almost wanting to hug him. “Thanks again, Logan.”

He nodded, and his lips barely rose in a thin and tight smile.

Claire jumped out of the car at the same time Ethan got out of his. He threw his arms around her, startling her. She didn’t know how to react to such physical contact, so she remained still, waiting for the usual emotion to kick in, but surprisingly there was no revulsion from being touched, no fear. In fact, she felt safe.

The headlights of Logan's car slowly faded away until they were left alone in the darkness. Because Ethan said nothing for several minutes, neither did she. So much had happened tonight that she didn’t even know where to start.

Ethan inhaled deeply. On his exhale he said, "I am so sorry. I'll never forgive myself."

She pulled away and looked up into his blue eyes. "You don't need to apologize. None of it was your fault."

He shook his head. "Logan was right. I should've been there."

"Logan's assigning blame everywhere else than where it should be, with Gage. No one else is responsible."

"I'm sorry I was late. I tried to come but…” his voice trailed off.

“What is it?” Claire asked.

His gaze met hers. “Someone slashed the tires on my bike.”

Her eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. “Who would’ve done that?” But even as she asked the question, she thought of Gage.

“Probably some bored punk kid. It’s nothing you need to worry about though.” He swept back the hair that had fallen into her left eye. “When I realized my bike wouldn’t work, it took me a few minutes to find the keys to my mom’s car. I came as quickly as I could, but when I got to the beach and didn't see you, I assumed you'd changed your mind. I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so I went home." He reached up to touch her swollen lip, but stopped just short of it. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me too. It was pretty messed up. I’m sorry about your bike."

Just then a police car drove up and parked across the street. Claire waved to whoever was behind the wheel and said to Ethan, "Let's go inside." She walked toward the front door, but stopped and turned back around. “If that’s okay?”

Ethan nodded. "What about your mom?"

"She won't be home for another hour, and I really don't want to be alone." She unlocked the door and walked inside. As soon as Ethan came in, she closed and locked the door. If Ethan hadn’t been there she probably would’ve pushed the couch in front of the door, too.

"Shouldn't you call her? At least tell her what happened?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's not a conversation I want to have over the phone. I'll tell her later. Do you want something to drink?"

He motioned for her to sit on the couch next to him. "Don’t worry about me right now. Come here."

Claire did as he asked, but not more than five seconds passed before her foot started tapping. "Do you want to watch TV?"

Ethan turned to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She took a deep breath and quickly told him exactly what she had told Logan and Smith. What she didn’t say was how terrified Gage had made her feel or how she felt he wasn’t normal, maybe not even human. And this made her think of something else, and her eyes widened.

“What is it, Claire?”

She didn’t answer, thinking only of the conversation she’d overheard at Bodian. Specifically of the monkeys and how the female scientist had said that the infected, stronger monkeys were stalking and torturing the weaker ones. Was Claire a weaker primate?

She was considering the connection between Gage and Bodian, even thinking about Ethan’s slashed tires, when he said, "Can I confess something?"

Her thinking came to a grinding halt. She didn’t like confessions. She was about to change the subject, maybe even fake sick, when he started talking. 

"When Logan called and told me what happened, it felt like my heart had been ripped out."

Ethan continued to talk, saying words she didn’t know how to accept so she didn’t. She looked down at the shaggy tan carpet, focusing on a small faded spot of red. Years ago she'd accidentally cut herself while unloading the dishwasher and on the way to the bathroom to grab a bandage, blood dripped from her arm to the tan carpet. The way it had slid down her skin, a dark crimson color, fascinated her and she stopped to watch it fall in great rubies to the floor where it began to puddle, forming the red sea on the carpet her father had just purchased. Claire’s mother had found her and pulled her into the bathroom for it to drip into the sink no longer as rubies, but as red ink spots splattering against white porcelain.

"How long is this going to last?" Claire asked Ethan suddenly, her voice louder than she intended.

Ethan looked startled. "Huh?"

“This.” She motioned her hand back and forth between them. "I know we've only been on a couple of dates, but I really don't want to be wasting my time on something that's inevitably going to end." Claire said the words as harshly as possibly. She had to.

Ethan grinned. "I was wondering how long it'd take for her to appear.”

"What are you talking about?"

"The old Claire. The Claire who doesn't give a crap about anyone. The one with the Great Wall of China around her."

She turned away, not wanting him to see the pain in her eyes. She had to protect herself.

Ethan continued. "That day you ran into me, at the school during the carwash, I saw the real you. The vulnerable Claire. The soft Claire beneath all the layers. And she's been around for the last few weeks and I've loved it. But I knew it wouldn't last."

"So, what? You're going to leave now? Cause this is who I am." Hard, cruel, and bitter.

He reached over and took her hand. When she tried to pull away, he held it tighter, and stared directly into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to." He squeezed her palm. "Back to my confession, and this time you’re going to listen. I've always liked you Claire. Always admired the way you handle yourself, and, yes, even your tough side. If you would've told me a year ago that I would be sitting next to you, alone, in your house, holding your hand, I would’ve said you were crazy. What you need to understand is I don't want to go anywhere. I want to be with you, the real you. I've waited so long to be in your world that I'm going to fight to stay in it this time. What happened tonight,” he swallowed hard, “you will never know how sorry I am."

Her knee began to bounce. "It's not your fault. Really. And I don't want to think about what happened. Not right now anyway." She let go of his hand.

He looked at her and nodded. "When you want to talk about it, I'm here." He picked up the remote. "What do you want to watch?"

“Your choice,” she said.

Ethan turned on the television and flipped through the channels.

She watched him, thinking hard about every word he had said. Part of her ached to believe him, the other part told her to kick him out of the house now before it was too late. But too much was happening and she didn’t want to be alone anymore. Or scared.

She hesitated briefly, before leaning her head against his shoulder. 

TWELVE

The room was dark. So black Albert couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He preferred it this way, unable to see his reflection in the mirrors. It made him feel as if he didn't exist.

When he’d been with Claire earlier, he was on autopilot, thinking of nothing but her. But after he left, and the reality of what Gage had almost done to her hit him, he'd thrown up several times on the side of the road. It took him almost two hours before he felt well enough to drive home again.

His parents had been waiting up after discovering he'd snuck out from his room. And they weren't happy. It was probably one of the worst shock treatments he’d ever received, his father having turned up the voltage considerably, but he took it all, not even considering sipping from Bodian’s vials to numb the pain. No amount of personal suffering could make up for what he'd done to Claire.

After he’d been shocked, he feigned unconsciousness until his father left the room. A portion of the physically altering formula was still inside him, keeping him from blacking out. He could feel the remains, black tentacles clinging to the darkest shadows of his mind, whispering and taunting.

Albert took hold of a twisted piece of metal left over from the Twin Towers—a gift from his father—and squeezed tight until there was blood dripping from his palm. He’d thought he could control Gage. He thought he was stronger, but Gage had taken over, shoving him into some kind of a mental prison.

His heart began to pound, each beat feeling like thunder inside his chest. Gage, who was really him. The darkest, most despicable part of him had been unleashed into a character so putrid, so horrid, that he wondered if Gage was really a demon, some spawn of the devil.

But all wasn’t lost. He had broken free from Gage's subconscious and taken over. Just in time, too. He'd seen Gage's thoughts and knew exactly what he planned on doing to Claire. His sheer will alone had stopped Gage, and Albert had shoved him so deep into his subconsciousness that he thought it impossible for Gage to ever come out.

As for the stolen Bodian concoction, he still had six vials left, buried beneath the floorboards in his room. When he went to destroy them all, he just couldn't do it. Though the concoction had given life to his inner beast, it had also had a hand in breaking down Claire. He felt indebted to it, like a soldier feels to his gun.

No. He wouldn't destroy the vials. But he would keep them hidden, just like the monster inside him.

The world would never know.

Claire would never know.