Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (2 page)

“Three-point-sixes
tend to work hard.”

“True…”
Victor trailed off.

They
stopped at a cross walk and waited for the traffic to change to allow them to
cross. Tony’s work was only a few blocks from where the reading was, so neither
of them saw much purpose in the drive, even if it rained.

Tony
spoke, his voice lower though, to keep their conversation as private as it
could be, “I take it you’ve heard about Mark Ross already?”

“I’d
heard he was killed,” Victor said, “But is there something else I don’t know?”

Tony
nodded, “It was at his home, his wife attacked him, slashed out his eyes and
slit his throat.”

“That’s
terrible.”

“Yes.
One of the neighbors saw it happen as he tried to break in to save him.” Tony
glanced at the crossing sign, “It didn’t help obviously.”

“So
I take it we’re going to have to step up our workload?”

“Yes,
but that wasn’t the end of it.”

Victor
looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Mark
Ross’s wife was in Detroit when he was killed,” Tony told him, “She was
visiting her sister when her husband was killed.”

Victor
frowned, “Then who killed him?”

Tony
couldn’t answer him. The sign changed and they walked across. “They found some
hair from the attacker at the scene of the crime, but they were obviously not a
match for his wife.”

“Do
they know who killed him?”

He
shook his head, “No, not at all.”

“The
hair didn’t match anyone else?”

“Not
yet.”

Victor
sighed. “How far back do you think this will set the project?”

“It
shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll obviously need to find another chemist though,”
Tony stated. “If we could get a hold of David that would be our best option–”

“We
don’t even know where to start to look for him though,” Victor stopped him.
“It’s bad enough that he quit, but finding him again isn’t going to happen.”

“Do
you have any ideas then?” Tony asked.

Victor
reluctantly told him he didn’t, and they both continued to walk toward the
Winchester Enterprises building.

---*---

2:46 PM

Lake Forest Park,
Washington

Nick
rushed through the rain on his motorcycle, cautiously taking each and every
turn with care. He wore a jet black helmet with a tinted visor, his loose-fit
jeans which were plastered to his legs due to the rain, and his black leather
jacket, which water streamed down as he sped down Bothell Way and entered the
Lake Forest Park Mall parking lot.

He
signaled a quick right that may have been too soon for him, as he nearly took
himself out trying to make the turn into the parking lot. Nick found a parking
space, parked, and walked into the mall. Nick kept his helmet on until he was
safely inside the building and out of the rain’s barrage. His dark brown hair
and the rest of his head were the only parts of his entire being he managed to
keep dry.

He
wandered to the second floor where he found his destination, a small deli
called ‘Crystal’s’ that was right outside of a bookstore. The deli itself was
relatively small, but had enough room to allow for several tables and booths
for customers. A warm atmosphere mixed with the enthralling aroma of freshly
baked breads beckoned all to enter. Nick imagined even if he wasn’t there for a
specific purpose he would have had a difficult time in passing by the deli
without grabbing a bite to eat first.

When
Nick entered it was deserted, which Nick gathered was normal when the girl
behind the counter seemed surprised to find a customer. She asked, “Is there
anything I can get for you?”

“Actually,”
he checked her name tag, “Amy, I-I was wondering if Jordan w-was in.”

“Oh,
yeah let me get him for you.” She ran into the back and brought out a boy with
long black hair he wore slicked down. His uniform was mainly a viridian polo
shirt, but underneath he wore a long-sleeved black shirt. An apron covered his
tight black jeans. He normally wore earrings, but due to store policy he
removed them.

“Hey
is it raining out there Nick?” the boy joked.

Nick
forced a laugh, and then retorted, “Hey Jordan i-isn’t green a bit b-bright
f-for your eyes?”

“Ha
ha, what do you want?”

“A
s-sandwich,” Jordan gave him a look, “Fine! Turkey, ham, b-bacon, w-w-whatever
cheese you have, the green stuff…”

“Lettuce?”

“Yeah,
then to-tomatoes…and some m-mustard.”

Jordan
finished making it, rang it up, and joined Nick at a table. He sat across from
Nick, with his back to his work. “So why are you drenched?”

“I’ve
b-been out on m-my motorcycle all day.”

“You’re
an idiot Nick,” he bluntly told him.

“Why?”
Nick said as he became agitated.

“Riding
around in the rain is dangerous for you for three reasons; first off, you could
get sick…”

“Aw…
that’s s-sweet.” Nick joked.

“Bite
me. Second, roads are slicker so you could easily get killed. And last you suck
at riding that thing.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously.
You’ve only had it for a few weeks. You’re usually not this reckless, why are
you being so stupid?”

“Don’t
worry about it.”

“I
thought that your dad–”

“Stepdad.”

“Stepdad,
whatever, told you he didn’t want you to buy one.”

“He
didn’t.”

“So
this must be your form of continued retaliation. Y’know that most people just
get a tattoo or a lip or nose piercing when their parents don’t want them too.
But no, Nick has to get a motorcycle when his stepdad didn’t want him to.”

Nick
sighed, “Whatever,” which ended the conversation there. Nick took a bite of his
sandwich, “So who’s this girl?”

“Rachel.
She’s a junior, freakin’ gorgeous. She’s not my usual type, but hey, she’s hot,
so who cares?”

Nick
swallowed his bite, and asked, “I heard s-she’s Drake’s c-cousin or
s-s-something?”

“Yeah,
but he doesn’t care.”

“Still,”
Nick ripped off another hunk of the sandwich, “I have to meet her.”

“Fine
with me.” Jordan cracked his neck, something he did habitually. He continued,
“Meet her sometime next week though.”

“Alright,”
he struggled to say through his food. He swallowed and changed the subject,
“D’you r-really think Ian’s gonna m-move to London?”

“I
think so. Nothing important is holding him here. And just because he may still
have friends here doesn’t mean we’re holding him back from doing what he
wants.”

“You’ve
got a p-point.”

A
woman with fiery hair, an angry glare, and a name tag that commemorated her as
the manager walked out from the back of the store. She spotted Jordan near the
back with Nick and barked, “Jordan I told you to take out the trash before the
dinner rush, so get to it.”

“Alright
ma’am,” he said through gritted teeth and suppressed his remarks. Once she had
left he let out a sigh and muttered under his breath, “It’s not like we get a
dinner rush…” as he left Nick and disappeared into the back of the store.

Nick
glanced around the room and only found Amy, who wiped down tables near him. He
leaned toward her and asked, “Wh-what’s the d-deal with her?”

She
looked at him, and for a moment Nick thought his heart stopped. She answered
him, “That’s Crystal. She owns the store and is very protective of this
business.”

“Hmm…I
g-guess that’s understandable,” Nick admitted.

Jordan
made his way to the door with four large gray garbage bags. He cursed under his
breath and tried to make his way outside. Amy smirked alongside Nick as they
watched Jordan struggle to get through the door.

Nick
tried to ignore Amy afterwards as his heart raced. He wasn’t sure whether it
was her eyes that made him shake or her confidence in contrast to his naturally
timid self.

“How
do you know Jordan?” she asked to break the silence.

“We’ve
known each other s-since elementary school. I guess you could s-say we’re
pretty g-good friends.”

“That’s
nice.”

“So…How
do y-you know Jordan?” he asked though he quickly realized his question was
foolish.

She
only smiled, “Crystal’s my friend Denise’s aunt, so Denise was able to get me a
job. Jordan just walked in the door one day and I handed him an application,”
She paused, and then asked, “So do you work?”

“No.”

“Then
how did you pay for the motorcycle?”

“M-My
friend got me a dis-a discount, and m-my older brother h-helped me buy it and
gives me money f-for gas,” he paused, and then continued, “I-I am l-looking
f-for a job though…”

“We
aren’t hiring right now.”

“No,
I-I didn’t mean here,” he said almost alarmed.

She
laughed, “I was kidding…But it’s good that you want to work.”

“Yeah…”
Nick stared at her, and then quickly looked to the door, to find Jordan who
returned a bit wetter and far more irritable than when he’d left. He struggled
to think of a topic, noted Jordan’s layered shirts, and asked, “S-So long
sleeved sh-shirts are allowed with your work uniform?”

“Yep.
There aren’t any rules against it, as long as the uniform’s over it,” she
indicated to the sleeves of her uniform, as the viridian overlapped the
terracotta sleeves. Nick reddened. “Do you always have a hard time with small
talk?”

Nick
gave a weak smile, “Yeah…I’m n-not the best at it…”

Amy
smiled and asked, “Do you always ride around in the rain?”

“N-No,
it’s just…I-I didn’t see any r-reason not to.”

“You
could get sick,” she told him, “And isn’t it irritating? The rain must feel
terrible as you fly down the road.”

He
shrugged, “I-I don’t really n-notice it,”

She
smiled, and stood, “Well I do need to get back to work, but it was nice talking
with you…”

“N-Nick,
Nick Jacobs,” he filled in.

“Amy
Roberts,” she waved, “Well I’ve gotta go, but maybe we’ll talk again sometime,”
she retreated into the back just as Jordan escaped.

He
wandered toward Nick, “You two talked?” Nick nodded. “Huh…She usually has good
taste in guys.”

It
took him a moment to react, as he was still transfixed in the conversation he
had with her, but once he realized he’d been insulted. He slugged Jordan in the
arm, “Jerk.” He gathered his trash, handed it to Jordan, and grabbed his
helmet, “I’ve g-gotta go though, don’t want to b-be out in the rain t-t-too
long.”

“Now
you agree with me?”

“Call
it a s-second opinion.”

Jordan
shook his head, “Whatever. See you later.”

---*---

3:15 PM

Bothell, Washington

Drake
Winchester sat behind his desk in the Bothell office of Winchester Enterprises.
The cubicles and bland gray walls made him feel like a prisoner. His coworkers
decorated the walls of their cells with photos of family members and personal
items; Drake didn’t bother and left his as he’d found it. Many of the other
employees found their jobs enjoyable; Drake was not a fan of his father’s
company, or at least where he was at that time.

He
wore tan slacks he never intended on ironing, a sky blue dress shirt he only
bought for the job, and an attitude which told everyone there that he wanted to
be anywhere but there.

The
office was relatively plain (as Drake would often describe it) as it only had a
few indoor plants dispersed throughout the building, water coolers nobody used,
and other office necessities such as trash bins. Personal items aside, the
office was bland.

A
coworker of his joined him and began in Japanese, “meeting with Kitayama went?>”

“doubt they’ll agree to produce our software for what we want to pay them,>”
answered Drake as he set his head against the back of his cubicle.

“this mean we will go with another company?>” Drake nodded, and Sho scowled,
“pirate our product, steal our codes, or send viruses through our system if they
write our product.>”

“yes, I know. But the company isn’t willing to pay more for their work.>”

“don’t see why not, if we spend more money on their product, we’ll be able to
protect our work. We won’t be losing money, we’ll be making it through an
investment!>” Sho sat forward and locked eyes with Drake, “that no one’s ever been able to pirate anything made by the Kitayama
Corporation? No one can even crack their codes, not even ex-employees! Ke
Kitayama’s a genius in his own right for being capable of intertwining
safeguards against his own employees in the event that they might release
information to outsiders.>”