Katharine's view...
I stare at Kimberly for a long time; I have seen that look before and know Kimberly's afraid of me. Is the light my eyes produce that scary? Or is she seeing something else in me? Something I can't or I refuse to see in me?
I also know that she doesn't want to help me, so why can't she leave me alone? Is she trying to taunt me or only prolong my torment? I ask with a heavy heart, “Have you come to kill me?”
Kimberly's view...
I can't get past how her eyes glow and don't answer her at first. What kind of monstrosity is she?! I regain my composure and finally answer, “No, I haven’t come to kill you; you see, I've decided it would be too much of a hassle.” I glance around the warehouse. “I wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t have something I want.”
Katharine's view...
Wondering what I could possibly have that she wants, I stare at her a second longer, lower the gun, and rub the vest where the bullets struck me. Kimberly is here to taunt me. Doesn't she have anything better to do?
I question, “What do you want?”
Kimberly's view...
“I want...” I catch a glimpse of a shadow moving toward us, and I step back, put some distance between myself and that woman, and remove my PPK from my purse.
Katharine's view...
Why isn't Kimberly answering me? I notice her attention diverts slightly, turn, and see that the last T-5 released itself. Crap! I let myself get distracted, and I never sensed it moved.
End Katharine's view...
“Target acquired,” the T-5 stated. “Moving forward with capture.” The T-5 was unarmed and tried to grab Kat.
Kat ran from its grasp as she lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. Click. She stared at the gun; it was also empty! She turned to Kim and shouted, “Shoot it!”
Unsure what to do, Kim turned to the T-5, who observed her hesitation.
It scanned her face. “Kimberly Griffin, daughter of the Chairman. Identity confirmed. Stay out of this Ms. Griffin, and you will not be hurt.”
Kim nodded, lifted her gun, and took a few more steps back.
“What are you doing?!” Kat shouted. “Shoot it!”
“Please don't tell me I have to explain it again,” Kim said. “You’re on your own.”
“On my own?” Kat said as anger and confusion poured over her, and then she threw the empty gun at the T-5. It smacked the weapon away as Kat bolted for the lead pipe she’d laid by one of the boxing machines. She ducked under the conveyer belt, grabbed the pipe, and continued under the machine to the safety of the other side and before the T-5 locked on her with its targeting program, Kat ran around the machine and whacked it in the head. It stumbled back as she continued her assault. Kat raised the weapon over her head and hammered its metal skull over and over; she continued striking the T-5 even when it ceased moving. She turned to Kim and glared at her with her light splintering eyes. They were filled with fury and hurt, and a surge of purple flared in the blue Ult L-E.
Kim raised her gun and prepared to defend herself incase that woman came at her.
Kat’s face softened when she saw the look of fear in her eyes. The surge of purple faded, leaving the blue, and Kat breathed deeply and dropped the pipe as her heart quieted. The clang of metal resonated across the warehouse.
Kimberly's view...
How long have I been standing here gawking at that woman? I don't know, but I was so sure she'd come at me when she glared at me with those seething purple eyes. When she doesn't attack, I point my gun up and no longer aim at her. I focus on the smashed head of the T-5 and smart off to her by saying, “I see you have issues you're dealing with; ever thought of seeing a shrink?”
Katharine's view...
Deeply upset with Kimberly over her indifference, I walk over to her, point at the Un-Man, and ask, “Why didn’t you shoot it?”
I want to understand why she didn’t help me; she should have helped me, so I point to myself and yell, “It was going to kill me.”
Kimberly puts a hand on her hip and says, “That’s my problem how? Idiot... Why do you insist I care?”
“You keep showing up! If you don't want to help me and you're not going to kill me, why do you keep showing up?” I feel my eyes return to normal as I tell her, “I don't understand.”
“Like I said, that’s my problem how?”
“Don't tell me then!” I shout, stomp over to the T-5 with the screwdriver in its forehead, and pull out the tool. Electrical snaps fire from its head as I wipe the black ooze covering the screwdriver on its suit. I snap at her like some child, “Keep showing up like a stalker and see if I care!”
“Stalker? I'm not stalking you,” Kimberly insists and then questions, “Why would I be stalking you?”
“How should I know? You're the stalker, not me,” I tell her, glance at her, and then divert my gaze when she looks at me. I'm afraid she'll read my mind somehow. I don't want her to know, but I'm so glad she showed up. I feel safe when she's around. I'm not sure why. Kimberly mostly points a gun at me.
I move to the table by the machine closest to the front door, remove my vest, and pull down the v-neck of my dingy t-shirt. Sheez... I'm already bruised. I set the screwdriver on the table and examine two welts about an inch below my right collar bone. I also rub near my spine where the first bullet struck.
Kimberly says nothing as she watches me. I have no idea why she's here. I wish it was to help me; I wish it was to tell me that she does know me, and she's going to tell me about my past. She continues to watch me with her sour gaze, and I've had enough, so I demand, “Tell me why you're here.”
Kimberly answers me, “I want to make it clear that I'm not a stalker.”
“Fine, you're not a stalker,” I reply and then mutter, “Freaking stalker...” I quickly glare at her and after a few moments, I demand, “Tell me what you want.” I walk over, wasting no time. I know more Un-Men can show up at anytime, so I grab my backpack, and return to the table. I unzip it and place the screwdriver in it. “Tell me and then leave me alone.”
I say this, but I really don't want her to go. I want her to help me. I feel like she should help me.
“It's a deal,” Kimberly tells me as she levels her gun on me. “I want the music box. Give it to me.”
“What?! No!” I utter as I pull the backpack off the table and step away from her. I shake my head as I tell her, “No! It’s mine.”
I feel betrayed by her request; I feel as though she has broken some sort of bond we've had for years by demanding such a thing of me.
“I hate repeating myself," she says. "Give me the music box or I'll kill you.”
I shake my head again, moving backwards toward the front door as my flight or fight instinct kicks in. She should be helping me, not doing this. I yell, “No!”
“I’m not going to argue with you. Give it to me.”
“No,” I say and then insist, “It’s mine.” I plead with her as if she'll understand, “It’s all I have left.”
“Idiot..” Kimberly mutters, shrugs, shoots me, and hits me in the left shoulder. Smoke rolls from the barrel and with an emotionless expression, she says, “I did warn you.”
It happened so fast... I made no move to protect myself... I glance down at the bullet hole stunned, drop the backpack, stumble back, fall against the wall, and slide to the floor. I hold my bleeding wound as Kimberly approaches me and kneels to one knee right beside me. She coldly places the barrel of the gun on my right shoulder.
“Don’t make me put another hole in you,” Kimberly says and demands, “Tell me where it is.”
This can't be happening; she... Kimberly couldn't have shot me, and she can't be going to steal the only thing that quiets the effects of the Ultra-Epi. Near tears, my lips quiver for the pain and fear of losing the only thing that has kept me going the past year. The pain in my shoulder is no where near the torment I feel over her betr
ayal. I should have expected this; I should've had my guard up. Why did I trust her? Why did I feel safe around her?
“I won’t,” I tell her and then grunt, "It's... mine."
Kimberly tilts her head as if she doesn't understand me, then she backhands me across the face, and states with an iciness in her voice, “I really hate this kind of work; it can get quite messy.”
I sit there as if the most shocking thing just happened to me. I stare at her as I put my other hand to my burning cheek. Why don't I fight back?
Kimberly's blank face shows neither pleasure nor remorse as she says, “I’ll only ask you once more, then I’ll search your dead body.”
A sense of despair and loneliness strikes me as hard as she did, and I contemplate letting her end my existence, but the voice deep inside says no. Live. I move my blood covered hand to my thigh pocket, remove the music box, and stare at it.
“Give it here,” Kimberly's says as she holds out her hand.
I say to her, “Promise me you’ll give it back.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll give it back, and I’ll loan it to you.”
“Are you a child? Do you really think I’ll...” Kimberly starts and then she says, “Fine, I promise.” She snatches the box away from me and then says, “There, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
She stands, turns, and heads for the front. Kimberly's leaving me... she's leaving me alone.
I start to get light headed, but manage to push myself up the wall to stand and yell after her, “You promised. Don’t forget to return it. It’s just a loan.” I press my hand against my wound. “The music box is all I have.” I mumble, “I don’t think I can go on without it.”
Kimberly pauses at the front door and questions me with a hint of irritation, “What are you whining about?” Her cool and calm demeanor changes as she questions me, “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care what happens to you!”
lub-DUB... lub-DUB...
I panic and peer out the dust covered window as three vans pull up beside the other two. I turn to her and beg, “Please help me. Take me away from here. I'll die if I stay here.”
“Help you?” Kimberly laughs and says, “Yeah right.”
“Don't be cruel,” I plead, “At least leave me some ammo.”
“I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.” Kimberly starts out the door.
“Kimmie, please...”
She pauses as if I hit her in the head with a soft ball, then turns, and comes back in.
“What did you say?! You little...” Kimberly starts as she marches towards me and aims her gun at me. “No one calls me that! No one calls me that anymore! Now die why don't you?”
I say nothing as I slide down the wall, land in a defeated heap, and stare at the floor. If I could only cry, at least then I would be doing something.
“You sicken me,” Kimberly says with a snarl. “You...”
I look up when she speaks and see a shade of deviousness mark her face.
She questions me, “You want ammo?” Kimberly ejects her magazine and removes one round. “Here then.” She pulls a thin permanent marker from her knapsack and writes on the shell casing. She puts the marker back in her knapsack, walks over, and sets the 9 mm round on the floor a short distance from me with the tip pointing up. “If things get unbearable...” Kimberly makes a gun with her left hand and fires it at her own head. “Do us all a favor.”
She takes one more look at me, shakes her head, and leaves.
I stare at the bullet as the world crashes in on me. I read the words written on the shell, Pale Horse. I lean my head back and close my eyes as my shoulder wound burns. I think about the note and then the man I loved then lost.
Preacher, where are your encouraging words of light and hope now that the darkness is about to consume me? How am I going to survive this?
* * *
The Sanctum...
Deep underground, alarms blared, sending the Chamber into chaos as analysts scrambled, examining new data.
“What is going on?” Mr. Morta demanded.
“Pandora’s vitals are dropping,” frantic, a supervisor relayed. “Our sensors are detecting major trauma and blood loss.”
“What about Argus?” Mr. Decuma asked. “What does he have to report?”
“Two waves of Un-Men have attacked Pandora.” Ms. Nona studied the data on her laptop. “It received the usual minor wounds. Argus also reports that a woman known as Ms. Griffin shot Pandora in the shoulder and took the music box.”
Mr. Morta looked to each of the other members of the Council. “We never did figure out who gave Pandora the note, the business card, or the music box.”
“Now it has none of them.” Ms. Nona turned to the smaller of the two men. “Should we retrieve Pandora?”
“No, not yet,” Mr. Decuma answered. “It will be a true test. Pandora has relied too much on the music box for emotional support. I have had my suspicions that an outside force has been interfering; now that that interference is gone, let us see what Pandora can do.”
Chapter Twenty-five
A Message From The Past
The sixth hour tolled on the street clock as Kim rushed out of Etna Toys; she hurried around to the back parking lot, not wanting to tangle with the Un-Men. She carried her gun in one hand and the music box in the other. An Un-Man leaned against the passenger side of her car. Wary of it, Kim slowed to a walk as she tucked the music box in the zipper pocket of her jacket.
The Rogue spoke as she approached, “Ms. Griffin, I do not understand.”
Suspicious of it, Kim asked, “Don’t understand what?”
“Pandora. If anyone else did what you did to her, they would be dead right now, but not you. Actually, I have lost count of how many assassins she has decommissioned.” It picked dirt out of its nails. “And before you boast, your skills are why you are standing here, you should know... She trusted you,” the Rogue said, not so much accusing, but astonished. “I mean she really trusted you; only one other did she place such hope, and well, that minister is dead, but that is another story.”
She searched the area to see if other Un-Men were around but none were. This Un-Man was different; it was more human than the others in its manner and in its smile. It creeped her out.
The Rogue studied Kim and recorded everything about her. “I do not know why, but Pandora drops her guard when you are around. How else could you betray her?”
Kim kept a tight grip on her gun as she replied, “You're insinuating she trusted me.”
“Ah, I see you are skeptical, but before I continue, I should introduce myself; they call me the Rogue,” it said. “Now back to what I was saying, Pandora trusted you. First case in point, she removed her Ravlek Vest. Why would she do that if threatened by you?”
She shrugged and readied herself to shoot it at the slightest hint of attack.
“I cannot figure it out either. What is it about you? I do not think Pandora realizes she is doing it. Maybe deep down in her subconscious, she believes she knows you. Maybe she believes you two have met in the past. Or maybe you did not point a gun at her when you first met. That quality alone might endear someone to her, but I could be wrong. I do not know. I was not there.” It added, “Or was I?”
Impatient to leave, Kim asked, “What I don’t understand is why you’re telling me all this?”
“Oh, that is right.” The Rogue mimicked Ms. Griffin’s voice. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care what happens to you.”
Amazed she heard her own voice, Kim started to question, “How did you...”
“Oh, please. I am a machine. I can reproduce any sound.” The Rogue calculated the answer to its next inquiry. “Would you like me to repeat Pandora’s plea for you to save her? It was so sweet and innocent. Even I heard the fear in it. I heard the fear that you would leave her to her fate and that she woul
d die alone.”
“I don't have time for this, so if you don't mind, I'm leaving.” Kim started to walk around to the driver's side, keeping her distance from the Rogue.
It ignored her and mimicked Pandora, “Please help me. Take me away from here.”
“Stop it!” she snapped. “I said I didn’t...”
“Want to hear it. I know, but I am supposed to be heartless.” The Rogue eyed her accusingly. “Humans are the ones who have to work at it.”
“Why are you here?” She snarled, agitated by the accusations. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” The Rogue turned to the warehouse and moved its hand and caressed the handle of its large knife. “I want to kill Pandora.” Disappointed over the current circumstances, it said, “But it seems the T-3s will beat me to her.” The Rogue turned to Kim. “You know they have been acting strange lately, but then, what does a rogue know?” It moved from the car and walked a couple of paces away from her. “Well, be seeing you. I am too depressed to watch the outcome of the battle. Pandora does not have a chance.” The Rogue took off running and soon disappeared from sight.
She slid into the seat of her car, took one more look at Etna Toys, started up the engine, and pulled away. “Finally, I’m rid of this Pandora mess.” She drove for twenty minutes, getting some distance between herself and the warehouse. She pulled over, anxious to look at the music box; Kim removed it from her pocket, held it in her palm, and examined it. Some of that woman's dried blood covered the top.
Kimberly's view...
Mom, why did you want me to get this? Father said it's a data storage unit. I turn it over and over, studying it. How does it work? What kind of information is on it?
I think how badly I missed my mom and how I'll make whoever took her away from me pay dearly. Will it tell me who murdered her?