First Bite
by Jeff Dosser
Even on the enlightened darkness can fall. Or so Eve had reasoned these
past few months of her assignment. She stood beside a table of dirty
beakers and half-filled jugs, a man in a dirty white tee shirt duct
taped to a chair before her. He was an ugly man, both inside and out,
with a jutting chin and skin an unhealthy shade of gray. His sunken
eyes followed Eve with bored resignation until she pulled out a lighter
and ignited the torch of twisted newspaper she held in her hand.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the torch to the ground. The
yellowish flames licking along a trail of gasoline poured across the
floor, curling up the linoleum as they passed. As the flames raced
towards the table, the man threw himself to the ground in a futile
attempt to roll towards the front door.
“Cut me loose, you bitch!”
Eve marveled at how the tendons in his neck bulged as he tried to turn and catch her eye.
“Or you’ll get what’s comin’,” he growled. He kicked out a thin leg
trying to hook a heel on the fridge and pull himself from the flames.
She glanced down, wondered if “gettin’ what’s comin’” meant another
session strapped to the bed and gang raped by a bunch of humans too
stupid to grasp the basic laws of thermodynamics. If that was his
meaning, she doubted he’d get a chance to teach her that lesson again;
although he was about to receive his own crash course in the conversion
of mass to heat.
“What’s the matter Johnny?” she dropped to her haunches and met his eye. “I thought bondage was your thing.”
Smoke billowed across the ceiling in black somersaulting clouds, a
sudden flash of heat washing over her like a wave as the flames hit the
meth lab and clawed hungrily up the trailer walls. She’d been studying
these people for months yet it still amazed her the results they
obtained from such crude equipment.
“Come on baby,” Johnny said, his voice plaintive and low. “It wasn’t
all bad was it?” As she glanced over past him to the snarling inferno,
the heat pressed like a warm hand on her skin. Grabbing his foot, she
dragged him out of the kitchen and across the living room floor.
“You know what I want Johnny. I want my phone. I can’t get home without it.”
In the kitchen, the table collapsed with a cacophony of shattering
glass. Eve dove to the floor and threw an arm over her face as a
fireball rolled across the ceiling and blew open the front door.
She scrambled to her knees, eying the flames. “You’re running out of time, Johnny. Where is it?”
His eyes darted from the fire to Eve. “Sure, sure. Wayne’s got it, Wayne’s got it.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” She asked.
Johnny jerked away from the growing inferno, the hair along his legs curling in the heat and filling the air with their stench.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Now cut me loose.”
Eve scooped up a baggie of white crystals sitting on the coffee table
and stepped to the door. She wondered if the occasion warranted some
sort of gibe or heartfelt admonition. She felt no real anger towards
Johnny, no need for revenge other than his death. Anger was a primal
emotion, one her people had outgrown. She simply closed the door and
stepped into the humid July air empowered by a glowing feeling
of…satisfaction.
Gravel scrunched beneath her boots as she crossed the drive and crawled
into Johnny’s beat up Mustang. She keyed the ignition, the engine
rumbling to life with a throaty surge of power she’d grown to love. It
was a deep contrast to the smooth hum of electric motors or transducing
engines. There was a primal rawness in the primitive tech that was
difficult to resist.
The sound of screams and popping metal filled the air as Eve dug
through her purse. She pushed aside a .38 snub nose revolver and a
rubber-banded roll of bills until she found the pipe. She dragged out
the elongated glass tube, rounded like a globe on one end, and pinched
some crystals from the baggie. She dropped them into the pipe's bowl
and sparked her lighter. As black smoke curled from the trailer and
feathered into the dimming mid-west sky she inhaled the clouds of white
swirling inside the spherical bowl. Then she punched the gas, sending
chunks of gravel pinging off the sides of the doomed trailer as
lightning bolts of energy coursed through her veins.
If today was to be her last on Earth, she had loose ends to tie up. Eve
didn’t want to leave anybody out, but without her phone, she wasn’t
going anywhere. She’d be stuck on this God forsaken outback forever.
With a squeal of rubber, she slewed the car onto the old county road
and zoomed for the big town of Alsuma, Oklahoma. Already the purple
tinted horizon was brightened by the lights of the city, like the
glowing pyres above the Promised Land. Behind her, an ebony column rose
into the deepening darkness like and accusing finger jabbed at the
heavens. In less than an hour, she’d be at the casino. If Wayne had her
phone, the place to find him would be there.
*****
The River Breeze Casino blazed in neon splendor in the center of an
asphalt plain. Eve parked the Mustang and took another hit of ice
before strolling up to the front door. The place was a cheap imitation
of any second-rate gambling joint you'd find off the strip in Vegas. An
expansive, windowless warehouse crammed with binging, buzzing,
flashing, jingling slot machines, most every bar stool and chair
crowded with a forlorn and desperate mix of humanity’s dregs.
Eve pulled a pack of Marlboros from her purse and tapped out a
cigarette. She strolled through the aisles of slots and card tables
until she spotted Wayne against the back wall, seated at the Book of Ra
penny slot. He was one of those rare meth addicts who somehow
maintained his weight. He wore a bleach stained Rolling Stones tee. His
ample love handles spilling over the top of his too tight khaki shorts.
Eve moved up behind him, the cigarette dangling from her lips. For a
long moment, she watched him spinning the electronic wheel, then
flicked her cigarette across his shoulder. It hit the center of the
machine, the red cherry exploding in a shower of sparks.
With a hoot of surprise, Wayne jumped back, almost tumbling from his
stool. He swung around, an expression of outrage melting from his face
when he recognized who it was.
“I want my phone, Wayne.” Eve tapped out another cigarette and lit up.
Wayne leaned back on the stool, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Why Eve, just the woman I was wantin’ ta see.”
He spun back around and continued punching at the buttons, the wheels
spinning on the screen in chromatic hues of orange and red. “That’s
quite a phone you’ve got there, Eve“ He turned and studied her, his
gaze roving from her feet to her face. “What are you exactly? CIA? FBI?
Some kind of foreign operative?”
Eve gulped down the panic that welled in her throat. How had this
stupid turd figured out she was different? She cocked her head and took
a long drag then blew the smoke into his face. “I said I want my damn
phone, Wayne. And I do mean now.”
He chuckled, his sausage fingers tapping out a staccato on the buttons.
“You didn’t answer the question, doll.” The machine began flashing and
dinging as it counted up a winning spin. “Look at that, I won a hundred
bucks.” He brushed a lock of greasy, black hair from his face and
smiled, his too small teeth framed between flabby wet lips.
“I’ll give you five hundred bucks for the phone,” she said, “and I
won’t kill you.” She rummaged through her mind for a label to the meth
induced emotion she felt while talking to Wayne. Frustration.
He cocked an eyebrow, spread out his arms to indicate the crowd milling
about them. “Really? I don’t think you’ll do either. At least not here,
not now.” He leaned over, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Who are you?”
Eve rolled the cigarette in her fingers, considered the question. “What makes you think I’m anyone?”
“Cuz that ain’t no regular phone,” he said. He leaned back, held up his
hands in a symbol of placation. “I don’t know what went on between you
an’ Johnny. Ain’t none ah my business. Fact is, Johnny traded me the
phone for a bump. I figured it was yours but like I said, it ain’t my
business what goes on between my customers. Sellin’ dope is my business
and a nice new iPhone like that.“ He shook his head in appreciation.
”Something like that’s gotta be worth a buck or two.”
An old woman ambled up, her eyes flitting from Wayne to the machine.
“You finished on this one?” she asked. “That’s my lucky slot.”
“Piss off, Granny,” Wayne huffed. “I’m still playin'.”
Eve watched the old woman waddle away throwing angry glances over her shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s a nice phone,” Eve said. “It cost me $950. I’ll give ya a grand right here and now if you give it back.”
Wayne shook his head. “I ain’t done with my story,” he said. “So I try
an’ open that phone up, ya know. Remove the sim card so I can sell her.
An’ guess what. It can’t be done. Nothing you do will open the sim
tray. The damn screens password protected too. Hell, the screws to open
up the back don’t even work. So I take that bitch and throw it against
the wall.”
Wayne glanced into the crowd then turned to face the slot machine. He
began punching the buttons to spin the wheel. Eve glanced back and
spotted the old woman returning with a man dressed in a blazer and tie.
She’d obviously complained about Wayne not using the machine.
After a moment's discussion, the man in the blazer moved on, leaving
the old woman staring at Wayne, her wrinkled face pinched into an angry
grimace. Eve stepped next to the machine, leaned towards Wayne. “Two
grand.“
He glanced up tapping blindly at the spin button. “You know what the
phone did when it hit the brick wall?” Wayne asked the question as if
Eve hadn’t said a word. “Nothin’. It bounced off like a tennis ball.
Didn’t even scratch it. Then I stomped on the screen, hit it with a
hammer.”
He laughed and waved a hand over his head. “Hell, I tried pretty much
everything.“ He turned and met Eve’s eyes. “Not even a scratch. That
thing’s made of some sort of secret metal or …or plastic alloy. Either
way, it’s some kinda secret spy shit. So I ask you again. Who are you?”
Telling Wayne the truth wasn’t an option. Besides, he’d already sold himself on an answer. “I’m CIA,” Eve said.
“I knew it!” He slapped his hands together in a loud clap that drew
scowls from the neighboring players. “I knew it,” he whispered. He
stood up, grabbed Eve’s elbow and led her to a spot next to the wall.
“So how much are you willing to pay?” he asked. “No telling what kind
of embarrassing information is inside that phone. You don’t want that
falling into the wrong hands.” His head swiveled, examining the crowd.
“You’ve got people watching me, don’t you?”
“Always,” Eve told him. She doubted Wayne trusted anyone enough to let
them hold onto the phone. That meant he had it hidden somewhere.
Probably in his car or house. Hell, he was stupid enough to have it on
him right now.
“So, Wayne.” She moved up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“You need to decide if the price I offer is the most we’re willing to
pay, or if we’ll just decide to kill you and search through your shit
afterward.”
He looked nervously into her eyes, then scanned the crowd. “Okay. What’s the price?”
She needed something reasonable. Too high and he might balk, too low
and he’d begin to doubt the CIA story. “Twenty large,” she said. “I can
have it to you in half an hour.”
His eyes widened. “Twenty grand?” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll agree to that.”
“And I want the phone when you get the cash,” she said. “No transfer later BS.”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “I can get it. Someone I know has it right now.
They’re in the casino waiting for my go ahead.“ He stepped away from
the wall, eying the crowd over her shoulder. “What guarantee do I have
you won’t kill me?”
Eve snorted and shook her head. This guy was so stupid. There was no
one holding the phone. She was half convinced it was in his pocket
right now. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided
to blackmail us? “
The color drained from his face.
“I’m just messin’ with you, Wayne.” Eve turned and nodded towards the
casino floor. “There’s cameras everywhere,” she said. “We do the
exchange in the parking garage and everything will be fine. You get
your money and decide how you’re going to get out of here if we decide
to follow you. And I get my phone. Give me twenty minutes to get the
money and I’ll meet you at your car.”
Wayne squinted at her for a long moment. “Okay. Fine,” he said finally.
“I know you people can control the cameras, but I’m going to take the
chance.“ His eyes searched the crowd, beads of perspiration forming on
his brow wrinkled. “I’m parked on the third floor, west lot. I’ll be
standing by my car at…” he glanced at his watch. “Twelve-twenty.”
“Until then,” Eve said. She turned and strolled back to the Mustang.
The crystal meth hummed through her veins, throbbed with an efficacy
she never imagined she could hold. She was amazed such a primitive race
had stumbled upon this miracle. She sprinkled another pinch of crystals
into the pipe, sending another rollercoaster of power tumbling through
her brain.
*****
At twelve-fifteen she fired up the pony and eased out of her space,
rounding the parking lot to the west lot and rolling up the garage
ramp. The last message the overseer sent before her phone was stolen
said the pickup was at four a.m. She pulled onto the third floor,
spotted Wayne leaning against a concrete pillar at the end of the lot.
She slung her purse over one shoulder and pulled up behind his beat up
Jeep.
“You got my phone?”
“If you got the money,” Wayne said.
A car eased around Eve’s Mustang then rumbled deeper into the garage.
She watched it disappear up the fourth level ramp then dug the rubber
banded wad of cash from her purse and held it up. “The cash.” Her hand
and the money disappeared inside the bag.
“And here’s the phone.” Wayne pulled the black iPhone out of his pocket and held it out.
Eve pulled her hand out of the bag but instead of cash she held the .38 nickel plated revolver.
“Lay the phone on the pavement, Wayne.
His eyes shot wide at the sight of the weapon. Slowly, he raised his hands.
“Put your arms down, damn it.” She glanced over her shoulder and back at Wayne. “And toss the phone at my feet.”
Wayne did as he was told, his hands hanging limply at his side.
“I know you were there,” she said.
“What are you talking about?”
“The night Johnny put Rohypnol in my drink. The night you all had such
a good ol’ time.” Eve felt the heat rise in her neck, a flush grow in
her cheeks. A scream threatened to boil out of her, a shout of ..of.
She didn’t know how to classify this thing, this…new feeling. After
years of studying the humans, she would label this feeling ‘rage’. Her
species had no equivalent to the rampant emotions of the humans, no
equivalent to the feelings cavorting through her soul. At least not
until now, not until the discovery of the crystals.
“But how, how can you remember?” Wayne asked. “You were knocked out.”
“Somewhat, yes. But the drug has a different effect on my kind. It
dimmed by perceptions, but it did nothing to my memory, nothing to dull
the pain and humiliation of what you did. What you all did.”
The discharge of the .38 was a thunderclap inside the concrete confines
of the garage, the bullet exploding like a crimson flower in the center
of Wayne’s chest. He clasped at the bloody wound, then his eyes rolled
up and he tumbled backward. Like a felled tree, he hit the pavement
with a hollow thud.
Eve turned to go and found the old woman from the casino standing
behind her. Her gray face washed white with fear. Eve considered her,
the .38 smoking in her hand. “What do you want?”
“N..n..nothing,” she stammered. She pointed a quaking finger at Wayne’s
limp form. “I was going to tell that man what a rude person he was…
that’s all.”
Eve glanced back at Wayne, a stream of blood pooling beside his head.
“Yeah, well he won’t be rude ever again.” She stared at the old woman
for an instant then waved her gun towards the exit. “Leave.”
The old woman dropped her purse and fled, the sound of her echoing
footsteps ringing through the lot. Eve glanced down as a single red
apple rolled out of the old woman purse and bumped to a stop against
her toe. She scooped up the fruit and climbed into the Mustang,
squealing the tires as she zoomed out of the garage and onto the main
road.
She tapped in the entry code on her phone and read the message displayed on the screen:
Pickup at 4 A.M.
Usual Location
Last Opportunity For Extraction
Please Acknowledge
Eve held up the phone. “Species evaluation emissary
four-one-three ready for extraction. Pickup time and coordinates read
and confirmed.”
*****
In an hour she was deep on county road nine pulling the Mustang onto
the shoulder. A short hike brought her to a large pond surrounded by
windblown grasses. It was only minutes before a darkness flitted across
the star-studded sky, dropping rapidly beside her. The great ship, its
oblong shape only vaguely visible in the dim illumination of the sliver
moon was split with a light that grew to brilliance as a garage-sized
door opened on its side.
Eve strolled into the light and up the extended ramp. At the top, a
tall man with close-cropped hair and a blue uniform awaited her.
“I’m assuming you encountered problems,” he said. “You have been in and
out of communication for over a triasta yet you’ve sent no distress
signal nor updates. He examined a notepad he held in the crook of his
arm. Your biometric readings have been unusual, to say the least.” He
paused and narrowed his eyes, his lips pulled into tight thin lines. “I
assume you have returned with intriguing data to explain this anomalous
expedition?”
Eve cast a discerning eye over the man, then dug through her purse. She
pulled out the apple, the frost colored pipe and the bag of crystals.
The rest she let fall to the ground.
“Yeah, I’ve got intriguing data to share with you.” She took a bite of
the apple and strolled inside. “Believe me, it’s gonna blow your mind.”
THE END
© 2017 Jeff Dosser
Bio: Jeff Dosser is an ex-police officer and current software
developer living in the wilds of Norman, Oklahoma. His fiction has
appeared in several magazines including Tales of Terror, Shotgun Honey,
Iridium Zine, Bewildering Stories, Down in the Dirt and DeadLights
magazine as well as Deadman’s Tome, Mother's Revenge and Hindered Souls
Anthologies. He's also the recipient of Writing.com’s 2016 Quill Award
for Best Short Fiction.
You can find out more at jeffdosser.com.
Website: Jeff Dosser
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