Authors: Matt Betts
25
Deena at 16 the first time around
One day Deena and Harper pushed their stolen truck into the lake and proceeded to take two bicycles they’d found unattended in the park. They planned to ride into the nearest town. If they were lucky, they could eventually make their way to Los Angeles and get work. The city wasn’t far. Another day or so by bike. They were filthy and starving. They’d been living like raccoons; breaking into coolers and stealing snacks from campers and hikers to get by. Deena was actually getting good at catching fish in the lake, sometimes grabbing them out of the water with her bare hands. Of course, Harper wasn’t fond of fish. They’d avoided even little towns for fear of being recognized, but they were just desperate enough to brave the big city.
They took a back trail around the lake and through the pines, with the intention of taking an old service road into town. A good deal of the trail was uphill and, as undernourished as they were, they tired quickly and rested by walking the bikes for a bit.
“We really need to steal something good. Steaks, maybe,” Deena said. “I’m sick of peanut butter and if we steal one more picnic basket full of baloney sandwiches, I’m going to scream.” The lack of food was driving Deena crazy, but she knew it had to be killing her sister. Harper liked things just so. She liked particular brands of cereal in the morning, with fresh bananas and strawberries—usually organically grown. She drank her special morning blend of tea that she made Dad buy from the local market, thin sliced bagels with cream cheese and fresh squeezed orange juice. She was a pain in the ass. “Want to knock over a deli or something?” She said it as a joke, but the sudden burst of adrenaline that followed made her feel amazing. Catching the fish even gave her a rush that she hadn’t expected. It reminded her of the day they’d left home.
Harper said nothing. She looked exhausted from the ride, and for the last few days seemed like she was seriously considering calling someone to come get her and save her from this nonsense.
“Roast beef! Goddamn I miss roast beef.” Deena said. “Swiss cheese? Mmmm.”
“Easy there Gilligan, we’ve been hiding in the woods for a month, not lost on a desert island for a year,” Harper said.
“You have absolutely no imagination and no soul.”
“What does roast beef have to do with having a soul?” Harper asked.
Deena was about to needle her sister, just for something to do, when she heard voices ahead. “Shhh. Harper, wait.” The two stopped and Deena guided her sister closer to a nearby tree. In the distance, a shiny black car was idling on the service road. A white cloud streamed from the tailpipe and they could see the outline of someone sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Maybe we could go kick this guy’s ass and take his car,” Deena said. She was desperate enough to try, and she felt her arm ache again when she suggested the violent act. She’d done nothing illegal in her life. Never stolen anything. Barely jaywalked. Never got into a real fight, other than the one with Mike, of course. But she was sure she could do it and she was itching to give it a shot. Something told her in the back of her mind that she could do anything she wanted. And it made her want to try. For the first week after they ran, Mike’s death was all she could focus on. She shook violently as she cried some nights thinking what she’d done. Her conscience managed to break through the fog in her head in tiny random moments. The guilt had nearly made Deena cave to Harper’s pleas to return home. But the next week, the dot on her arm began to grow larger, and the death moved to the back of her line of thinking. By the next week, the whole incident seemed like something that had happened to someone else. Maybe she’d seen it on television or a video game. It got so she had trouble remembering his name.
Harper winced at the idea. “The car looks pretty fancy, I think someone would be more apt to come looking for it than they would the crappy pickup we sent swimming this morning.”
They soon found the source of the voices; three men were standing in the ditch by the tree line. The girls were startled that they were so close to them without noticing. The two men in back were shoving another man in a torn trench coat; moving him along with no allowance for him to walk on his own. The man was cussing and screaming at the other two, who gave no response.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before they notice us,” Harper whispered.
“Why?”
Harper gently pushed her sister. “Just go.”
The girls jumped when a loud crack cut through the relative silence of the woods. They turned to see one of the men had pulled out a gun and shot the one they’d been shoving. He kept the gun trained on the man in the trench coat as he fell face first to the ground. A wisp of smoke trailed out of the barrel.
“Christ.” Harper’s eyes got wide.
Deena instinctively reached up and covered her sister’s mouth before Harper could make another sound. “We’re not leaving. We’re going to hold perfectly still right here until they leave. If they see us, we’re dead,” she whispered. “Nod if you understand?”
Harper’s panicked expression told Deena everything. She was completely freaked out. She wanted to run. She wanted to get their bikes and pedal back to the campsite, hell, back home, but if the men hadn’t seen them yet, moving would probably change that.
Harper nodded slowly and Deena took her hand away. Deena could feel a tear run down her own face, and didn’t realize she’d begun crying until then. She didn’t think it was out of fear. It felt more like happiness. Like she’d found something she’d been looking for.
They watched the men half-heartedly kick leaves over the body before brushing their clothes off.
“Mitchel!” Neither of the men had spoken and Deena turned to see a trio of men standing by the still-running car. The oldest of them was pointing at the girls. “Over there.” The men closest to the girls looked around the woods for a moment before picking the sisters out. Both stepped toward them quickly and pulled their guns from their pockets as they did.
“Let’s go, let’s go, back to the bikes and take the trail down to the campsites,” Deena said.
Harper leapt over tree roots and ran the way they’d come. Her footfalls crunched leaves and twigs as she stomped unsteadily down the incline.
The crack of a shot rang out as they ran, and the bark of a nearby tree splintered. “Oh God,” Harper said.
“Keep moving, stay as close to the trees as you can.” Deena was breathing heavy from the excitement and the exertion. Her head ached the moment that shot narrowly missed them, but it wasn’t because she’d been hit by the bullet or anything else, it was like a compass in her head was pushing her to move in a different direction than she believed was wise. It was like the ache was moving her towards danger rather than away. Her limbs tingled and her head felt like water.
More shots filled the silence as they went. Deena watched Harper move on ahead, until she was behind some trees, and then Deena stopped following. She listened to the guidance her mind was giving her and moved in another direction.
Unfortunately, Harper chose a poor time to look around and tripped over some branches in her path. Her momentum carried her a few more feet in the air before dropping her on her face in the dirt. Deena heard the heavy footfalls of the men and watched her sister struggle to get up. Deena moved to conceal herself from the approaching danger, all the while following the pull in her head. She climbed the tree by bounding up it and grabbing a high branch to pull herself up. She’d never moved that quickly, that fluidly before and she had no idea she could climb a tree like that.
The men came around the tree from opposite sides. “That’s enough,” the tallest one said. They both immediately moved to Harper and towered over her. “Do you see the other one?”
Harper managed to scramble onto her butt, though the killers weren’t going to let her do much more. “Look, just let us…”
“Shut up.” The tall one again. “Find her.” The chubby one started back toward the car.
Deena heard the tall man say, “Sorry chick, nothing personal,” just as she dropped out of the tree onto the fat guy. That one shouted then, a deep roar of pain as she punched him. She withdrew her hand to hit him again and found the skin on her right hand had turned black. She let go of the man and he stumbled, clutching at his neck. She had no idea how hard she’d hit him.
The man menacing Harper turned his head to see what was happening, so Deena pressed her advantage. She grabbed the fat man’s coat and pulled him closer. There was a flurry of suggestions in her mind and Deena opened herself to all of it. She slashed at the man’s face with her hands, sending blood flying off into the woods. They fell to the ground together and rolled in the leaves and twigs on the forest floor before stopping perfectly still and silent.
Deena could see Harper and her would-be assassin both lean forward, both puzzled and both expecting either Deena or her opponent to stand up. Deena stayed still as she watched the tall man approach slowly. He stepped toward the tangle of people and clothing. “Mitch?” he asked to no response. He moved forward a few more steps, leaving Harper behind.
Deena waited until she heard her sister scrambling to her feet and running away. It would be the smart thing for Harper to do in the situation. Go get help. Run away. She heard her sister cautiously take a few steps before turning to run.
Harper got exactly ten steps before the gunfire began.
26
“We’re looking for Deena and Harper Riordan,” Garrett said. He showed Mr. Marsh his badge. Pel half-heartedly showed hers as well. She was looking around the room at all the tennis balls scattered around on the floor.
Marsh shrugged. “Look. I’m sorry. I run a large business here. Those names don’t ring a bell with me.”
“Sisters? You don’t remember employing sisters in your office?”
“I don’t get out in the field much, I’m more management. What do these girls do for my company?”
Garrett shrugged his shoulders. “We hear they kill people for your company.”
“Heavens,” Marsh said, almost laughing. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it?”
“Of course.”
“What does Datura Industries do, then? If you don’t mind us asking,” Pel said.
“We have a number of divisions. We have an all-inclusive shipping and transportation wing, a construction arm, several Internet ventures. We’re thrilled to see our research and development business is blossoming. I can’t imagine listing them all for you.”
Garrett turned and looked out at the gorgeous view Marsh had. He could see all the way up Figueroa and into the city. It was most likely a very expensive way to see L.A. “All completely legal and above-board, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure,” Marsh echoed. “I’d be happy to have my assistant, Stanley Yuko, give you a brochure or something detailing the vast Datura Industries empire. Stanley would be glad to put you in touch with our human resources department. They can tell you whether those girls you mentioned work for me.”
“Deena and Harper Riordan,” Pel said.
“Whatever.” Marsh began to roll a ball around with his palm on his desk.
Garrett turned back. “Are we boring you?”
“I have to get back to work here. The ‘vast empire’ isn’t going to run itself, you know.”
Garrett winced at Marsh’s huge fake smile. The overly white teeth seemed unnatural. “Take a look at these for me and we’ll get out of your way.” He pulled pictures from his jacket pocket of the sisters and put them in front of the man.
After just a second, Marsh pushed them back across his desk. “Sorry. I honestly have nothing to do with human resource decisions.”
Garrett was flustered. He knew at least one of the girls was here. Stanley had told Rivers exactly where to find Harper, but they hadn’t been able to get a warrant. At least that’s what Rivers had told them. Garrett was only to ask questions, not explore the building and look for either of the girls. The hope was that Marsh wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill the girl with the authorities sniffing around him. The fear was that the visit might spur him on to take her out of the building and have her killed somewhere else.
Of course, the wild card in any plan was what the other sister, Deena, would do. If the girl was as powerful and unpredictable as they said, there was no telling what she would do, and maybe that would keep Harper alive a little longer. Maybe long enough to actually get a warrant.
“I’m surprised you don’t know Deena. I heard she was a big part of your organization,” Garrett said. “I heard she was a pretty important part of the team.”
“I know all the most powerful people here. I think I’d remember her.”
Garrett nodded to Pel and they walked towards the door. “I’m sure if she gets here, she’ll remind you.”
If Marsh was afraid of Deena, his face didn’t show it. “Well. If that’s all you have for me, and if you don’t have a warrant, I’ll have my security personnel escort you out. I’d hate for you to get lost on your way back to your vehicle.” Marsh waved to two tall men in matching navy blazers with the Datura Industries logo on them who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“That’s kind. I’d hate to get lost too. Freaks me out,” Pel said. “I’m shaking just thinking about it.” She looked completely unaffected to Garrett, but he was still getting used to his new partner.
Garrett gave Marsh a wink and left the room. “See you soon.” Without a warrant, things would be difficult.
27
Deena at 16 the first time around
Deena did a mental check of her condition, she didn’t feel anything too wrong, other than a couple of dings in her arm and thigh that would probably become bruises later, but she couldn’t be sure how bad it was until she moved. The problem with that, she found, was that her right arm was trapped under the heavy body. The tall man had moved out of her field of vision, but she could hear crunching leaves nearby where the man was approaching.
She was thankful the trench coat was over her, to provide some cover, but she couldn’t see anything or anyone around her. She slowly moved her left hand over to attempt to free her other arm, but it was blocked by an object attached to the man’s belt. She felt around and discovered it felt like another gun. She carefully removed it from the holster. She oriented it correctly in her hand and let it rest there. She’d never fired a gun before, though it felt right in her hand. It felt like another part of her body a part that had been kept in check for far too long. It was quite a bit heavier than she’d expected, and the fact that this man had been carrying two of them amazed her. It would have been a lot of weight to carry. The fact that she couldn’t move her right hand reminded her that the man was used to carrying a few extra pounds. She was right-handed, but the gun felt just fine in her left.
She pressed the gun against the coat and pointed it in the direction she thought the footsteps were coming from. She heard Harper begin running in the opposite direction.
The first shot tore a hole in the coat and Deena choked at the acrid smoke that was trapped under the coat with her. She waved the gun hand wildly, pushing the jacket away so she could see and fired another shot at the same time which went wild. She spotted the tall man on the other side of Mitch. He looked surprised, like he’d just turned to shoot Harper when he was interrupted. As he turned, Deena shot him twice and forced herself to stop in case she needed the ammunition later. The whole thing took seconds, and Deena shuddered as the tall man fell. She turned and placed her foot on the fat man’s side for leverage to free her trapped arm. The nudges her mind gave her made it all so easy.
Her arm ached and throbbed as she pulled it loose—she guessed it was from lack of circulation. But the more she examined it; she discovered it looked just fine. The blemish had migrated to her wrist and it seemed to be the source of the pain.
She knew Harper was talking to her, but she couldn’t tell what she was saying. There was a sudden buzz in Deena’s mind that seemed to make the rest of her body vibrate as well. The buzz sounded like a whispering voice telling her to do something in a foreign language. Nearby, a twig cracked. She pointed the weapon toward the noise.
There stood the men from the car. The older man had his hands in his pants pockets, but the other two had guns pointed at Deena. “Look little girl,” the man said. “You won’t kill us. You did what you had to do in the heat of the moment with Alex and Mitch there, and I’m impressed. But it’s over now. You’re not going to look me in the eye and shoot. Not when you have to think about it.”
The joke’s on you, Deena thought. I can’t think. I’m reacting; I’m listening to the buzz of whatever is building its nest in my head.
Near Deena’s feet, the fat man started groaning and writhing on the ground. As he rolled over, she saw he was bleeding heavily and his hand moved to the wound trying to stem the tide. It was a losing battle, but he struggled to his feet and took a swing at Deena. She twitched, like a jolt of electricity had coursed through her. She blocked his arm, preventing him from hitting her and then punched him with her free hand. A shadow passed over them and Deena looked for a bird flying in the trees, but found none. As she hit him again, a feeling like a dozen needles seized her arm. Her fist had not only turned black, but thin, jagged ridges were pushing their way up through her skin on each knuckle. She stepped back and screamed as the points pushed through.
She closed her eyes from the pain and lashed out at Mitch, hitting him again and again until he fell from her reach. Deena took deep, sucking breaths as she attempted to get a hold of herself. When she opened her eyes, she saw her hand was still black, but the strange protrusions had disappeared. Her knuckles weren’t just black; they were crimson from all the punches she’d landed on Mitch. He was lying at her feet, his face an unrecognizable mess of slices and cuts.
“Impressive,” the old man said. “That’s something new.”
Deena took a few breaths to analyze what had just happened. The now-constant rumble in her head told her it was perfectly natural. She struggled to argue with it because something about the fight seemed… less than natural. She kept the gun pointed down and decided that diplomacy of some kind might be good. The armed men kept coming out of the woodwork and who knew how many more were out there? “These two were pretty good at shooting an unarmed man in the back of the head, but they seemed to have a world of trouble with two small girls.” She was just talking now; fully prepared to babble on and on until something felt right.
“Fuck! Deena, what are you doing?” Deena had all but tuned Harper out since the buzzing had started and as it reached a crescendo, Deena noticed her sister was standing by the big tree; looking from Deena, to the two dead men, to the newest men with guns. The look on Harper’s face was slowly dissolving from horror to something else.
The men hadn’t lowered their guns as Deena had. “Seems like the bulk of the trouble came from just one of the young ladies,” the old man said. “Be that as it may, I assure you that Rousch and Morgan here—” He nodded to the man next to him. “Can more than handle little girls.”
“They can handle little girls? Hope you don’t ever have any full-grown adults come after you. That could get messy.” Deena’s body was still humming with anticipation of more violence. Anticipation, rather than dread.
The man smiled and shook his head. “You have a mouth that could get you in trouble. But from the look on your sister’s face, she’s used to it. Are you a troublemaker, young lady?”
She tapped the pistol against her leg involuntarily. It was as natural as someone else drumming their fingers on a desk when they were bored with a phone call or a business meeting. “So where does all this leave us? We gonna shoot it out? Or is there a middle ground here somewhere?”
The man’s weak smile turned genuine. Deena could see he was amused by the tough-talking girl with the shaky hands. “Middle ground? What sort of middle ground?”
“You seem to be short a few goons. Maybe you want to upgrade to someone who can do some real damage.” Deena felt a certain satisfaction at the look of shock on her sister’s face. They had no prospects other than going home and that wasn’t an option. Neither of them had been in contact with their foster parents and they hadn’t heard any news on what sort of fate awaited them, but with Mike dead, it couldn’t be good.
Harper moved only enough to sit herself down fully under the tree, the crisp crackle of the leaves the only sound. While her eyes still brimmed with tears, it appeared the rest of her had shut down. It was similar to the look she’d shown when Deena had first convinced her to leave after Mike’s death.