Disclaimer: Still don't own Prodigal Son, also don't own 'Run Through The Jungle' by Creedence Clearwater Revival, 'You Oughta Know' by Alanis Morrissette, 'How To Save A Life' by The Fray, 'The One I Love' by R. E. M., or 'Church Bells' by Carrie Underwood.
JT was sitting on the opposite side of the street from Godwin's house. So far, nothing had happened. He hadn't even caught sight of the clones they knew were in there.
Clones. Serial Killer Clones. It got simultaneously funnier and more horrifying every time he thought about it. What was the plan anyway, when they arrested the kids? What was going to happen when they had to make this public record?
JT's ruminations were interrupted by a call. Checking the ID, he picked it up. "So far I got nothing, Boss. I haven't even seen Martin Goodwin or Myra—Beatrice—whatever her name is."
"There might be a reason for that." Gil responded urgently, "We arrested one of the suspects, she let it slip that Goodwin plans on getting rid of the evidence. He brought that girl there to kill her. We need to get in there, now. On my way to you." If it's not already too late.
Just then a black van pulled up to the house and professionally dressed woman with long brown hair got out, a fairer brown haired teenage boy with her. She knocked on the door, the boy by her side, his head down.
"We might not have time for that." JT said, opening the door, "Someone just pulled up to the house, there's boy with her, late teens."
The door of the house was opened, and Iris, the housekeeper, ushered them in.
"Hold on," Gil urged, "If Myra- Beatrice- whatever is any indication, he won't do anything immediately. I still don't want you going in there alone, not with this much unknown."
Gil was there in less than five minutes and together they marched up to the front of the house, guns drawn. They knocked on the door. "Dr. Goodwin, NYPD!" Gil shouted. No response. "This is the police, we need you to come to the door right now!" The policemen exchanged looks, both considering whether or not they had enough probably cause to break down the door. A child was clearly in danger, so…"
They second away from kicking in the door when Iris opened it. "Excuse me…"
"NYPD." Gil cut her off, holding up the badge, "Where is your boss and the kid?"
Iris stepped back. "Dr. Goodwin, you might want to get down here. The detective is back and he's brought a friend!"
Dr. Goodwin came walking down the stairs, cool, calm and collected, as if he wasn't in the middle of a crisis of his own making. " Ah, detective. I'm assuming this has something to do with the Halleys."
JT got right to the point. "Where's the kid?"
"What kid?" Dr. Goodwin responded.
"The kid I saw let here less than five minutes ago." JT elaborated.
"I assure you , I have no idea what you're talking about." Dr. Goodwin played dumb.
JT glanced over at Gil, who in turn took a calculated risk. "We know what your real interest was with Elizabeth Halley. We know she didn't have COPD. We also know she's not that unique, if you get what I'm saying." Please don't make me say the 'C' word.
Dr. Goodwin froze for a moment. "I see." He said, "I believe I may need to speak with my attorney."
"Good idea." Gil responded, "But in the meantime, why don't you make it easier on yourself and hand the boy over. Your son and Myra Myers too. Or Myra Nicks, whichever one she is."
"Once again, I don't—" Dr. Goodwin began.
"We know about the plan to Terminate the project." Gil cut him off, "And we know it means terminating the kids."
"If I did know what you were talking about, I'd have to point out that they can hardly be called kids at this point." Dr. Goodwin, "I mean, apparently you know about the body count they've racked up. I'd also tell you that my son drugged me, locked me in closet and took off with both his brother and Miss Myers. I have no idea where they are, but I assure you, they're in more danger from him than they are from me."
"And you didn't think to call the police?" Gil questioned in disbelief. He really couldn't believe this guy on so many levels.
"Hypothetically, I think you know why I didn't." Dr. Goodwin pointed out.
"And the boy I saw brought in here, hypothetically?" JT questioned.
"Feel free to search my house." Dr. Goodwin offered, "I assure you, you'll find no one here but me and my housekeeper."
"Well, that didn't go at all like I thought it would." JT said as they left Dr. Goodwin's house, empty handed, "I swear, boss—"
"I believe you." Gil cut him off, "I just don't know how he 'em." Just then his phone rang. Seeing it was Dani he picked up. "What's happened?"
"We have unexpected visitors…" Dani began.
When Gil walked back into the station, there were two women in front of his office, a woman with her long ebony hair pulled back in a pony tail, dressed in almost white, the other Agent Swanson.
The woman in white stepped forward. "You must be Lieutenant Arroyo." She began, extending a hand to shake, "Katherine Branch, FBI." As they shook hands she kept talking. "I am so sorry to bother you, but I got word one of your people had called the locals about this case I just got and I was hopping we could talk. Agent Swanson here was gracious enough to show me the way. Apparently you've all worked together before?"
I don't know how much you could call it 'worked together'. Gil thought, but said, "Yeah. Uh, agent, why don't we step in my office for a moment?"
As they stepped into his office Gil shut door. "Please, sit down."
"Thank you." Agent said almost instantly, very polite, sitting down.
It actually made Gil feel a little awkward. That and perhaps he was bit frayed from this interruption happening in the middle of this Twilight Zone spec script they found themselves in and the sinking feeling that it was related to it. "So, um, when you say one of my people was looking into an FBI case…" He began, sitting down across from her.
"I just got it." Agent Branch explained, pulling out a picture, "Dr. Naomi Stone, genetics professor at Syracuse Community Collage, found dead four days ago, daughter Elizabeth, missing. While local police were processing the house, they found Dr. Stone's home office ransacked and some dairies and files that well…they don't really make that much sense. They were worried they might have stumbled upon some kind child trafficking ring or even a homegrown terror operation, so they asked the feds to come down, that's about the time I come in, and someone told me just before I got here a Detective Powell was asking questions. Now, I'm not looking to step on any toes, get in the way of any investigations, but nothing about this case is making sense, and we have no leads and there's a missing kid out there. Whatever reason your people were asking questions about this, if you found anything, anything at all that could help me figure out who did this and bring this girl home, I would greatly appreciate it. Please."
Gil examined the agent in front of him. From what he could tell, she seemed sincere, but he couldn't just tell her the truth. But at the same time, lying to federal agent was just a bridge too far. Maybe she could even help. However, there was also the fact that woman who last time they encountered her built a blackout fortress to keep them out of the investigation was waiting right outside. He decided to try to get some more information out of her. "Agent Branch, may I ask exactly what was in the journals and files that is causing such confusion?"
"The journals had a lot of notes on her daughter." Agent Branch answered, "Charting her growth, notes on an issue with her lungs she apparently had when she was younger, there even some things that I think are psychological notes, I'm not sure, that was never really my strong suit, and there was also these…personal notes. She keeps talking about regrets, what have we done, the last entry of the last one we have is just…an apology to her daughter. For what I don't know, but that's how the child trafficking theory got floated." After a beat she added, "Again, things like aren't really my strong suit."
Gil was silent for a minute. "Agent, what does the name Elizabeth Bathory mean to you?"
"I have no clue who that is." Agent Branch admitted, "Is she—involved in these cases?"
"You could say that." In less than a second, Gil again decided to take a chance. "Agent," He began, getting to his feet, "I have another one of Dr. Stone's journals. If you read that, I think things will become clear." Or you'll have us all fired for mental incompetency.
Gil wasn't sure what he expected Agent Branch's reaction to be when she read the journal, but it wasn't how she reacted.
"They did it." She declared, stunned, walking around Gil's office with the journal in her hand hands, "They actually did it. Oh, this is…amazing… and outrageous. I mean, what were they thinking? What could they have possibly….what possessed them to…."
"Wait, you actually believe this?" Gil balked, surprised as how easily the agent was expecting this.
"Long story short, I have a background in genetics, and this science is sound." Agent Branch explained, "I'm a bit surprised they were not only actually able to successfully clone everyone on this-did they successfully clone everyone on this list?"
"From what we can tell." Gil confirmed.
"But to make clones from DNA this degraded and them actually survive for any significant amount of time." Agent Branch finished.
"Well, they weren't completely successful." Gil told her, "We think Ellie's lung problems are the result of…being made from unstable DNA. And the problems are back. Just this this morning I saw the kid nearly cough up a lung."
Agent Branch blinked. "Ellie? You mean Elizabeth Stone? She's here?"
"Well, not right now." Gil admitted, "When the feds showed up our consultant took her and left."
"Right," Agent Branch agreed, taking a few breaths, "That was smart."
"It was?" Gil responded, surprised to see a federal agent praising what could be called interference in a federal investigation.
"Lieutenant, there's a reason human cloning is such a controversial issue." Agent Branch responded, "From a legal standpoint, it's not certain she has any rights."
A look of surprise flickered across Gil's face for a moment. "What do you mean she might not have rights? She's still a human being no matter how she got here."
"That hasn't exactly stopped society in the past." Agent Branch pointed out, "The law can be slow to catch up to reality sometimes…." Then it hit her, "Wait, you have a consultant?"
"Let's table that for now." Gil requested, "There are some more things you need to know."
So saying, Gil explained the rest of the story. Saint's Dympha, the killing spree going down the coast, the girl they apparently didn't need to mirandize down in their interrogation room.
Agent Branch leaned on Gil's desk for a moment, quiet. "Lieutenant Arroyo, would be opposed to a joint investigation?" She asked finally.
"Not at all." Gil told her, "If anything, I'd welcome the resources. For obvious reasons we haven't been able to tell anyone about this so it's been just the five of us doing everything. Thought with what you just told me about the possibilities that these kids might not even be people from a legal standpoint…"
"Yes, of course." Agent Branch agreed, breathless, "This doesn't leave this station, no one knows but you, me and your people. Well, maybe I should brief Agent Swanson. If I just rush her out, she's going to want know why, and... she's a profiler, right, I mean I'm sure your guy's more than competent, you wouldn't have him around if he wasn't, but onsomething like this two couldn't hurt, right? And you've worked together before, right?"
"Yeah, about that…" Gil began slowly.
However, Agent Branch's mind was already shifting gears. "Can I see her? Myra Dennison, the one you have in custody? Can I just—take a look?"
Gil and Agent Branch watched Myra from the two way mirror, as she had been alone in the interrogation room since Malcolm left, staring at the lights and singing to herself. "And every time you speak her name does she know how you told me you'd hold me 'till you died? 'Till you died, but you're still alive…"
"She's been singing that song on and off since we brought her in." Gil told the federal agent, then realized she wasn't listening. "Ah, are you okay?"
"I'm sorry." Agent Branch apologized, in awe, still staring at Myra through the mirror, "It's just…she is so beautiful. A beautiful, miraculous abomination." Realizing she was doing it again, she said, "I'm sorry, it's just that this is one of the biggest scientific breakthroughs in history, the realization of years of speculation, but simultaneously the most insidious breach of ethics since the David Reimer case. It gives a girl some serious whiplash."
That was when it hit Gil. Of course. Agent Branch felt the same way about genetics that Malcolm felt about profiling. And she was at the center of major scientific achievement. But an achievement that should shock anyone with a recognizable moral code and an understanding of the issue none the less.
Just then there was knock on the door and Dani poked her head in. "Boss, we have a problem. I just got a call, something's happened at Claremont, Bright was there when it happened and now he's not answering his phone."
He's staring at the gun in his hand, not sure how he can even hold it steady. Everything inside him is screaming, shaking in an explosive cocktail of rage, grief, and horror. All caused by the man in front of him.
It happens in a matter of seconds. One moment Endicott's doing his villain rant he when suddenly he's cut, no pun intended, off as Ainsley, who had been standing behind him lunges with a knife, slitting the fiend's throat and stabbing, and stabbing, many more stabs necessary to kill a person, much less incapacitate them, before Malcolm has any time to react, to grab the knife, to stop her. Then just as suddenly…she stops, freezing in place, staring at him with stunned, glazed over eyes and blank face, spattered with blood.
Only it isn't Ainsley anymore.
Ellie stares at him with that same look, covered in blood, not just speckled as Ainsley had been, but smeared with gore, like she's Carrie at the prom. No, like she tried to bathe in the stuff. She was quiet, then got out, in a monotone, scared voice, "What…just happened?"
"She wasn't bathing in it." Malcolm protests, barely registering that Ellie had spoken, "And Endicott was no virgin…"
Then it isn't Ellie anymore.
Staring back at him is his own face.
Like it should have been in the first place.
Malcolm jolted awake, hitting his head against something hard. He closed his eyes and opened them again, finding himself in almost complete darkness, except for a crack of light that let him see enough to know he was probably in the trunk of a car. His body ached all over and he could feel something hard and plastic cutting into his wrist.
How—He thought, then suddenly it all came flooding back to him. Knowing he had to get out, he starting kicking at the inside of the trunk, trying to get free.
As they drove down the road, his struggle was starting to shake the whole car.
"I think he's come round." Theo spoke up from the shotgun seat beside David.
David sighed, putting the car in park behind grimy, dull gray building that had clearly seen better days. At least they had already reached their destination. "Ian, get the blindfold."
As he realized they had stopped moving, Malcolm froze, stopping almost mid-kick. Listening intently, he could hear three sets of feet walking around to the trunk, and David saying, "You're gonna want to ice that jaw. Hey, can you handle any injuries?"
"Sure," A voice said, female, Malcolm through, then she said something he couldn't make out.
"We'll talk about this later, okay?" David said, the footsteps continued towards the trunk which was suddenly open, the sunlight forcing Malcolm to closed his eyes for a moment. When he was able to take the sunlight and open them again, he saw David in the middle flanked one either side by boy who had kicked in the stomach, and Theo. This was the third time encountering Theo, Malcolm noted to himself. Whatever the chain of command was, Theo must be pretty high up in it. It seemed an odd choice to the profiler as Ted Bundy wasn't the genius killer the media painted him as. At best he was average intelligence and skated by on charm and inter-state cooperation between law enforcement at the time being lacking. Perhaps Theo displayed more skill?
They worked wordlessly and fast, Theo grabbing the sides of Malcolm's head so he couldn't put up much of a fight as David tied a strip of black cloth around his eyes and the third boy, put something sticky, duct tape probably, over his mouth and he was roughly pulled from the car and to his feet, what felt like the barrel of a gun shoved into his side. It was all a matter of seconds.
"You feel that?" David whispered threateningly, "Try anything and I shoot."
Malcolm counted the seconds until they were inside. Even with bound captive struggling to stay up right, it was less than a minute before the door shut. Then his captors half pushed, half dragged him up a flight of stairs, then another. Wherever they were this was probably the second story. Finally. he was forced to his knees, the gun removed, then someone took off the blindfold
They were in a grimy, gray room with no windows and one way out, an entryway with no door, questionably lit by buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, flickering slightly. It was just David and Theo now, Theo pulling out a phone while David reached down into the inside of Malcolm's rumpled jacket, searching until he found his wallet and pulled it out, unfolding it. "Malcolm Bright," He read aloud, as if apprising the name. "Well, Detective Bright," He began, again, folding the wallet and pocketing it before leaning down and ripping the tape off of Malcolm's mouth, "You're going to help us make a little video."
When the team and the agents arrived at Claremont, you could say it was Bedlam. The police closets to the institution had cordoned off the scene, and there several ambulances.
Just as they were walking out of the building, a stretcher was being rolled out with a beaten and bloodied teenage boy with dark hair. Dani's eyes moved with the stretcher, lighting up in recognition.
"Boss, that's one of the kids that attacked us at McNab's." Dani declared, turning her body to follow the descent of the stretcher, "At least I think it is."
"Try to go with him in the ambulance, keep an eye on him." Gil instructed.
"Lieutenant, she can't just—" Collette, now mostly brief on the situation, began to protest.
"It's his squad, agent." Agent Branch cut her off.
Just then, a guard Gil recognized from that disastrous Christmas was wheeled by, followed by a nurse with a slash across her face.
"What on Earth happened here?" Agent Branch gasped.
Just then Gil's phone went off. Having a gut feeling, he reached for it and pulled up the message, his heart sinking into his stomach when he saw the thumbnail attached to the text.
In what may be the last secluded, quiet spot left at Claremont at that point, Gil and the agents huddled as Gil pushed the picture of Malcolm, on his knees, and the video began to play. "My name is Malcolm Bright," He began, his voice steady, clam even, but somewhat ragged, "I have not been harmed. If you want my freedom, Myra Denison needs to be released from police custody by midnight tonight. An hour after she's safe and my captors are sure she wasn't followed, I'll be released. If these demands are not met, the new recruits use me for practice."
With that, the video froze, ending.
Meanwhile, Marty and Ellie were hunkered down in a cyber café with a paper map of the city, covered with red sharpie Xs, circles, and a laptop curtsey of the establishment. "I've been trying to track Myra and the others for a week, but they've always managed to stay one step ahead of me. "Marty was explaining, "Then between you, and Dr. Goodwin and Beatrice—"
"Who?" Ellie cut him off.
"She's one of us." Marty explained, "One of the good clones. Well, the non-murdery ones. She's in a bad place right now, she's not talking this well. Anyway, the point is, I haven't had as much time to find where the thirteen have held up as I'd like, but I've been able to narrow it down from the other short-term hideaways they've used. We're looking for some place secluded, out of the way, somewhere no one can find them, but they can still quicky reach the location of their targets. "
"Marty, look at this city." Ellie pointed out, "It's cramped with people. Where are they going to find a place like that?"
"I've lived in this city my whole life," Marty countered, typing away at the lab top, "There are some…less nice places of town where they could find what they're looking for. The kind of place where people don't see things. They've also been squatting in abandoned buildings every time, so that also narrows it down. Of course, with what happened to Myra we have to consider the fact that they could've moved. And they need somewhere they can keep a hostage with no one being the wiser and minimum risk of him escaping. Thankfully, I don't think they know who he is, like fully who he is, but not doubt they're assuming he's cop, so…"
Ellie's eyes darted around the room, worried someone was going to hear. "Um, should we really be talking about this casually and normal speaking levels in a public place?"
"Ellie, looked around, "Marty told her, gesturing with his head around the room, where all the other patrons had their noses in lab tops, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. "I could stand up on this table and shout our identity and no would even realize I spoke." Then he turned back to the lab top, "Now, using that I've narrowed it down to about six location, but half of them are scattered far apart around the city, so I think I'm gonna have to call in reinforcements. You still have your phone?"
Ellie handed him the phone and he dialed the number of the burner he gave Fern. After several moments of dial tone when he heard the pick-up noise and Fern's stressed voice saying, "Please, tell me you're not calling because something's gone wrong on your end."
That didn't sound good. "What do you mean?" Marty asked.
"Okay, long story short, Beatrice snuck out through a window while I was talking with the manager." Fern explained, talking fast, but not so fast she couldn't be understood, "We think she's trying to find her way back to your dad's. We're looking for her, but—so far we haven't been able to find her."
Panic running through him, Marty pratically lept form the table. "Hold on, I'll be right there, tell me where you are."
"What?" Ellie balked, getting up as well.
"Okay, I'll be right there." Marty said before, hanging up and turning to look her, "Change of plans. Beatrice bolted; we need to find her before she does something stupid." He started gathering the supplies they had actually bought with them off the table.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ellie interjected, stepping in front of him and making a sign of the actual sports term as she added, "Flag on the play. We got a mess of our own here. Bright's still out there. And from the sound of it, don't you have people already on this?"
"I have three people, one of whom is six, and she has a head start." Marty reasoned, "Look, I'm just being rational, here. Bright's got time, and if Beatrice gets to Dr. Goodwin or -tries to put matters in her own hand, it's over for her."
"We don't know for sure how much time he has, or even if he has any time, you're just speculating." Ellie argued, starting to get worked up, "For all we know, they could be slitting his throat right now!"
The room went quiet as several patrons and every employee on duty turned to look at the teens.
"It's part of online roleplaying game we're part of." Ellie lied with surprising ease. Being on the run was apparently making her decent criminal. As everyone went back to their business, seemingly convinced, she lowered her voice as she added, "Look, I may not know a lot of about police work, but I know they're not in the business of letting out murderers. Wouldn't it be more rational to divide our resources between each person?"
"We don't have the resources for that." Marty insisted, "David may not have been the brightest, but he's not a complete idiot. He knows it's going to take time to get a prisoner released. I'm sorry about Bright, really, I am, but Beatrice has to take priority here. Now come on, we're wasting time as it is." He began heading for the door again, walking past her.
Boiling inside, Ellie clinched her fists, pratically shouting, "You're that cold? You're so cold you'll leave your own nephew to die?!" Malcom had asked her not to go there, but there, she said it. If Marty walked out now, he was abandoning his own flesh and blood.
"He's nothing to me!" Marty snapped, whirling back around.
Ellie felt like she had been shot for a minute, standing there, shocked. "Well, if that's really how you feel about it-give me the map." She thrusted it out her hand to take it, though the map hadn't even been offered.
"What?" Marty balked, not processing.
"If you won't help me, I'll find him myself." Ellie explained, clearly mad, "Give me the map."
"Ellie, there's still at least twelve of them." Marty argued, "You can't—"
"Give. Me. The. Map." Ellie repeated, through gritted teeth.
"You're behaving like a child." Marty told her.
"Oh, if you don't give me that map and I am going to have a temper tantrum." Ellie informed him bluntly.
Marty sighed. "Fine." He slapped the map in her hand and then turned to leave.
However, before he left Ellie had something to say. "You know, you say you want nothing to do with him, but right now, all I see its Whitley."
Now Marty froze, feeling like the one shot. As Ellie set down to look at the map, he stared at his reflection in the window. She was right. Picking who lived and died. It was exactly what Martin Whitely did.
No. He wasn't picking who lived and who died. He was picking who was worth saving.
Like his own father.
"You foolish woman!" He could remember Dr. Goodwin screaming at Gwen, heavily pregnant, as he watched on, hidden behind the staircase, "Did you even read any of the material I gave you?!"
"You mean the outdated rubbish from the 1960s you cherry-picked off of Wikipedia ?!" Gwen shouted back, an armed wrapped protectively around her swollen her stomach, as if she was afraid her husband was going to cut her open to get rid of what he was viewing as a 'problem'. "And yes, I did my own research, actual peer-reviewed research! And—"
"Ha!" Dr. Goodwin scoffed mockingly, "I'm surprised you even know what that word means!"
"I won't do it, Charles." Gwen said firmly, standing her ground, "We both know you can't make me."
"Have you even thought about the quality of life this child will have?" Dr. Goodwin hissed.
"Who said life was suppose to be easy?" Gwen challenged, "I think we both know this about your quality of life, not Cole's."
"You got me." Dr. Goodwin responded, "I don't want to waste my life wearing a child that is going to be absolutely worthless!"
In spite of himself, Marty let out a gasp.
Marty looked down at his clinched fist. Cole wasn't worthless. And neither was Malcolm.
Ellie was looking at the circle spots on the map, trying to figure out how she was going to get there and what she was going to do when she found them, when she felt someone sit down next to her. She looked up and, to her surprise, found Marty.
"He means something to you." Marty offered in explanation, "And he's a person. We'll save him, I'll just let the others know I'm not coming then we'll start the search here." He pointed to the closet circle on the map, "But we'll need to gather supplies first. How opposed are you to B and E?"
Malcom was still on his knees in the empty room the teens had stashed him in. After David and Theo had made their little ransom video, they recovered his eyes and replaced fresh duct tape over his mouth, taking his shoes and socks for good measure, before leaving him alone in the room. Every so often he could hear footsteps that stopped at the doorway. They were probably checking in to make sure he hadn't freed himself or hurt himself in the process. Rather as a bargaining trip or practice dummy, they needed him in one piece for the moment. He had been working to loosen the plastics ties on his wrists when he was certain he was alone, but whoever had restrained him knew what they were doing. However, there was one unexpected advantage.
His captors had missed the vent on one side of the room, and that it carried sound. He was currently paused, listening to fight between David and one of the other clones, a girl called Waneta, likely a genetic copy of Waneta Hoyt, a woman who had to have one of the worst cases of Munchausen by Proxy on record, considering it altered the course of medical history. From what he could gather, she was second in command with Myra out of the picture. And she was not happy about how the raid at Claremont hand gone down.
"That was a disaster, David!" He could hear Waneta exclaim, "We got dozens of minor injuries, Vera's lucky she didn't have her jaw busted-what was Marty even doing there? How did he even find us? I thought we lost him at the state line?"
Okay, so something went down between Marty and others. Malcom noted, Then why is he following them? And what was he doing back at Goodwin's. While he had saved them at the institute—they would have been sitting ducks if he hadn't warned them, Malcolm would give him that—he wasn't entirely sure the boy was on their side yet. Not sure what his angle was. And that thing was Martin, spitting in face—this kid was reckless, impulsive.
"Not to mention we lost Albert B." Waneta continued, before David could answer, "What exactly happened there? I still don't understand."
"I don't either." David admitted, "All I can tell you is that by the time they got there they found Albert half dead and Whitley and his guard unconscious. There wasn't any time to finish those two off before you ask, cops were starting to arrive."
"Okay, so, likely sanario Whitley attacks Albert." Waneta speculated, "But then who attacks Whitley?"
Malcolm's ears perked up a bit at that. Albert took Ellie back there?! And what was this about his father being attacked too?
"No idea." David admitted, "It's his own fault though."
Good. No mention of Ellie or Marty. They didn't even seem to know they were there. That meant he probably got her out, at least out of that cell. Of course, that also meant Ellie was now alone with him. Malcolm began to piece together a tentive theory of what happened. David was likely right about his father attacking Albert. If Marty had come for Ellie, maybe he saw Martin as a threat and attacked him. Or Martin had been threatening Ellie. That particular notion sent Malcolm's heart in his throat.
"What?" David was saying, "Don't look at me like that. You know what he did. If we had got him back, I'd be tearing his back open right now."
So, Malcolm had been right to be worried. He could only hope that the attack on Albert had happened before he could actually hurt Ellie. But this was something he needed to add in. Or rather the fact that for whatever reason, a rule had been set against sexually assaulting victims. A rule that was harshly enforced. Maybe it was suppose to be a form of mercy. A line they decided they weren't going to cross. Not all killers were rapist, after all. Maybe it was part of Myra's military obsession, since he could only assume that 'tearing his back open' referred to some sort of flogging.
"Look, we may have taken some hits today," David began, "But at least we got what we came for."
There was a moment of silence then Waneta demanded, in a voice from which Malcolm could pratically see the disgusted look on her face with his mind's eyes, "Have you even listened to a word I said? This isn't exactly what I'd call a victory."
"It is if we get Myra, back!" David snapped.
There it was. The reason for all this. You better hope for your sake we can. The words rang out in Malcolm's brain. Myra was the one holding this whole operation together, or at least that's how David viewed it. And considering how much things had gone awry with her out of power for less than a few hours, maybe he was onto something.
Waneta let out of sigh. "Do you really think it's going to be that simple, Dave? The NYPD isn't just going to negotiate with kidnappers, let alone, give into their demands."
So, Waneta was the realist of the bunch. Good to know.
" David, look at me! You're going to have to accept the fact that Myra isn't coming back, and you are going to have to step up and take charge. With her gone, you're the oldest, at least out of what's left of us. I know it's hard. She was my friend, too. And I know you wanted more than that—"
Suddenly David got defensive. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I see the way you look at her." Waneta told how, "How you would get when she and Marty were being all couple-y…"
Of course! In spite of everything, these were still teenagers with teenage reasoning skills, teenage invincibility fable, and teenage hormones to go along with it! And the self awares had been raised together. It really shouldn't surprise Malcolm that there was a couple in the group.
Just then, he could hear them walking out of the room, taking the argument with them. Back to working at the zip ties, Malcolm guessed.
Meanwhile, Marty was looking into the chamber of Dr. Stone's derringer, while Ellie watched him from the bar where it had been left that morning. The gun was still fully loaded, well-oiled, plus, older models like these were less prone to jamming. "Your mom had good tase in guns."
Marty's original plan had been to go to one of those less nice places he had talked about where he knew guns could be bought without the legal rigmarole, when Ellie mentioned she had her mother's. While not a savory idea, breaking into Malcolm's apartment to get it was less dangerous than dragging the inexperienced girl through the skeevy parts of New York, and, even when they pooled the money currently on them, they were low on funds.
"Uh, thanks?" Ellie replied, not sure how to respond to such a compliment. He watched as Marty began rummaging through the kitchen, "What are you doing?!"
"Seeing what he's got in the way of knives." Marty answered, pulling open a drawer, "I've been trained with a gun before, but we can't just leave you walking around unarmed, can we?" He pulled open another drawer only to find the most basic of basic cutlery. He rubbed his face wearily. There were some basic daggers in the weapons case across the way. If the kitchen was a bust, maybe he could get that open.
"Getting my gun is one thing, but that's his property." Ellie protested, "We can't just steal—"
"Not stealing, just borrowing. " Marty protested, "I fully intend to give it back and we're doing it to save him anyway. Can't be that mad about it" At last he found a stake knife that looked like it could do some damage if properly wielded. "Ah ha!" He held the knife up in in victory before hurrying back over to Ellie, thrusting the hilt into her hand. "Okay, quick combat lesson. You're gonna want to keep a tight grip on this, hold the knife away from your body. Now, you're small, but you can make that work for you." He began moving the hand with the knife around, imitating fight moves, saying, "This is something you have to remember: The most lethal place to stab someone bigger than you is in the ear. Through the hole, not the lobe. Lobe's just gonna make them madder. Are you understanding this?"
"Most lethal?" Ellie repeated, "As in can kill someone?" She was quiet as Marty nodded. "I don't…I'm not sure I can do that." The idea of killing someone horrified her. Terrified her. It was the one thing she had been trying to avoid.
But what if she could do it? What if she could do someone?
Marty wasn't sure what to say. In the end, he said, "Okay, let's go over some non-lethal measures you can take before we go, but we have to be quick about this…"
Back in the makeshift cell, all was silent, just Malcolm, working at the zip ties and putting everything he knew now together in his head. There had to be something he could use to defuse this situation. Of course he would actually need contact with his captors to actually do that and they weren't about to let that happen…
Just then he heard footsteps coming his way again, except this time it was accompanied by a voice. "…Everyone thought they were Ken and Barbie, but Ken was always getting way too drunk. Saturday night after a few too many, he came home ready to fight, and all that money could never save Jenny from the Devil livin' in his eyes…."
Was that…singing? Yes, that was a singing. A girl's voice, and her steps were slow, pausing. Like she was nervous. She had never done anything like this before. Who knows, if they picked her up after Saint Dymhpa's, she might not have so much as even jaywalked before they tore her life apart. But what was the singing? Some sort of copping mechanism maybe?
"It was all bruises covered in makeup, dark sunglasses. And in the next morning sitting in the back pew praying with the Baptists…"
Was she part of the experimental group? Maybe she knew someone personally who had the Devil living in their eyes. Maybe no one had saved her either.
"She could hear the church bells, ringin', ringin'. And up in the loft that hole choir singin' singin'. Fold your hands and close your eyes. Yeah, it's all gonna be alright. Just listen to the church bells, ringin' ringin', yeah, they're ringing."
Then something strange happened. As the footsteps got closer, the singing got softer, as if she didn't want him to hear her. "Jenny slipped something in his Tennessee Whiskey, no law man was ever gonna find. And how he died is still a mystery, but he hit a woman for the very last time…"
Ah! There it was! The brute gets his comeuppance, the battered wife gets her revenge. Just like thirteen were trying to do.
That was when something that had never before happened. The footsteps didn't stop at the doorway. The footsteps walked into the actual room. The singer wordlessly walked up to him and suddenly he felt the tape being ripped away, quick, but painful.
"Sorry." The girl whispered, a wince in her voice, as Malcolm felt something cold, covered with plastic placed over his jaw where he had been hit, which he could already feel starting to swell. "This should help with the swelling." She told him, "I brought some water, too."
Suddenly, Malcolm could fill the rim of the bottle being pressed up to his lips, and almost instinctively be began to suck, gulping down the cool water, suddenly aware of how thirsty he had been. "Thank you." He breathed. He paused then added, "You're the girl Marty tangled, back at Claremont?" He did hear David tell someone to ice their jar back in the trunk, and thinking back he could remember Marty punching a girl in the jaw, and now there was girl icing his jaw to help with the swelling. The he thought he could remember Marty apologizing to her, saying her name. "Vera, right?" If her name stuck to the a pattern that meant she was cloned from Vera Renczi, a Romanian serial killer who poisoned her husbands, lovers, even her son with arsenic, storing them in zinc-lined coffins in her wine cellar. The
sister of a poisoner singing about a poisoner. She didn't respond, but put the bottle back up to Malcolm's lips, which he drank from gratefully. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you were hurt. " He was saying that pratically to identify with her, pratically because it was true, the imagine of her hitting the ground suddenly replaying in his mind. She couldn't be more than what, fifteen? Sixteen?
"It wasn't that bad." Vera told him softly, "It's just a little sore. Really, the ice helped. How—how's your jaw doing?"
"Better now." Malcolm assured her, " You're right, the ice helps. I, uh, heard you singing in the hallway. Nice voice. What—what was that?"
"'Church Bells'." Vera answered, adjusting the ice, "Carrie Underwood. You like her?"
"I'm more into the older stuff." Malcolm admitted, "I mean, it was good…wait, isn't that the 'Jesus Take The Wheel' lady?"
"Yeah, that's her." Vera answered.
"I think she might have something of a split personality." Malcolm noted.
Vera giggled. All was quiet for a moment when she said, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. None one was supposed to get hurt. No one who didn't deserve it." Her voice sounded like it was on the edge of tears.
"You mean the scientist on the project." Malcolm guessed. "They lied to you, arranged for you to be hurt, locked you away when you all you did was what they wanted in the first place, am I right? Were you there at Saint Dymphna? Or did they pick you up along the way?" His question was met with silence. "Vera?"
"I shouldn't be talking to you." Vera blurted out, " Not about that. The others won't like it, and when we give you back, you could…"
"Vera, that's not going to happen." Malcolm, "You're not letting me go. " He shook his head, "I'm not getting out of here alive."
"No." Vera protested, "No, when they let Myra out…
"They're not going to let Myra out." Malcolm told her gently, "She's committed or has been involved in at least ten murders. They don't let people like that out, no for anything. And the NYPD most certainly doesn't negotiate with kidnappers. " He hated being so blunt about it, so harsh, but he knew he could get through to her. She wasn't like Myra. She wasn't cold-blooded, not as dedicated to the cause. It wasn't with us or against with her. She hated the idea of person she viewed as innocent being hurt. "So, why don't you give a commended man his last request, and help me put these last pieces of the puzzle into place." With that went silent, the ball in her court.
"You…you really think that?" Vera asked.
"Vera, I've worked in law enforcement for all my adult life." Malcolm told her, "I know how these things work."
Vera had to take a minute to composure herself. "I… I had been at Saint Dymphna for six months when it happened. I found at my boyfriend was cheating on me so I confronted him about it and he said some… some really mean things…I pushed him in the lake. I didn't mean too. It wasn't even that deep and I pulled him out, but when they called Dad he showed up with these men in white uniforms. They took me Saint Dympa's. That's where I learned about the others. What we are." She went silent again, bringing a pall with her, not that the atmosphere had been very pleasant before.
Malcolm couldn't take it anymore. "What you are is a scared, confused teenage girl with bad taste in boyfriends and bad father. Not some…monster or whatever they told you they were. They don't control you."
"No, no, you weren't there." Vera protested weakly, "You weren't there when Anderson let us out…"
Malcolm clung to one detail for dear life. "Anderson? Who's Anderson?"
"One of the doctors they kept on staff to monitor us, train us." Vera explained, "He was fired for…trying to hurt a girl during the physical."
He didn't have to ask her to elaborate. He got the picture clearly enough.
"When he was clearing out his stuff, he stole an access card, opened all the doors on our ward." Vera continued, "It was crazy. Everyone was just…and then Myra… Anyway, we regrouped at this barn and everyone started talking, they were so mad, and I got mad with them, and…"
"That's when you decided to make them pay." Malcolm finished, "Make them pay for what they did to you."
Vera didn't answer, then suddenly she was sobbing and apologizing again. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Malcolm told her, "Somehow I get the impression that this wasn't your idea."
"No, but…"Vera's voice trailed off as she got an idea, "I can talk to David. Get to find another way, get him to cut to lose. Don't worry, you're not dying if I can help it." Then he could hear her beginning to hurry away.
"Vera, no !" Malcolm shouted, causing her to stop, "Vera, I'm sorry, that's not going to work. But if you really want to help, there's something else you can do…"
"Well, that was bust." Ellie said, walking out of the abounded building with her arms wrapped around herself. They had just checked the second building on the list and so there was no sign anyone had lived there in a long time. She was starting to feel a little hopeless.
Marty made an x through the circle on the map. "We still have four places to check. They've got to be in one them."
"Speaking of which, what exactly is the plan when we find them?" Ellie asked. There was still at least twelve of them, there was little doubt in her mind they had some sort of weapons, and there was only two of them with one gun and knife and she could barely wield.
"I've been thinking about that." Marty admitted, "And I have a plan, but you're going to think it's crazy."
As they took the subway to the next spot, Mart explained his plan.
"You're right," Ellie declared when he finished, "That is completely insane."
"I know it's a long shot." Marty admitted, " But it might be the only way. You up for that?"
Ellie knew Marty was right. His plan was nuts, but it was the only one they had. Plus, he hadn't even wanted to go after Malcolm in the first place, so she figured he owed him. "Yeah, I'm up for it."
Marty nodded in agreement and the pair just sat there in somewhat awkward silence for a good minute, Ellie looking off. At last, she said "Thank you, for doing this. For helping me."
"Don't mention it." Marty tried to brush it off.
"No, I mean it." Ellie told him sincerely, gratefully, "And I'm sorry, for what I said earlier. You're nothing like-like that thing. I shouldn't have said that. " Now that she had time to clam down she realized he was just concerned about his friend, and rightly so. She had been unfair.
Marty looked down, unable to meet her in the eye. "No, no, you were right. I was acting like Whitley. No, what I was acting like was my father. That call I made back there was the exact same one he would have made, even if the reasons were different. Dr. Goodwin would have reasoned out that while Bright's brilliant, and in good physical health, his mental instability would count against him, even if they're not biological factors, and at this rate he's unlikely to pass on the traits that deem his worth saving in Goodwin's eyes. You can always train another profiler. Plus, he doesn't think phycology counts as 'real science', anyway. Meanwhile, at this point the experiment would be set back if we lost a clone, years worth of data gone. His vanity would play into it, too, though he'd never admit it. Likes to think he's so above it all." Suddenly it's all came pouring out, "When my stepmother was pregnant with Cole, Cole, that's my little brother, he's with the others, Dr. Goodwin insisted on all the prenatal testing that could be done, and the downs test came back with a false positive."
Ellie's heart sunk, remembering what she read hours before. That felt like days ago now. "I read a few of your dad's papers. I know his feelings about that."
"Then you can probably see where this going. "Marty responded, "He wanted her to terminate the pregnancy immediately, but she refused. It was her baby, she didn't care if it was disabled, they would figure it out, but he just kept putting-pressure on her. She finally shut him up my threatening to tell about me, she had put it together years ago, that's why he married her in the first place, but he was still just so—hateful to her. The stress made her go into labor a week and half early. Even when it turned out the test was wrong he still—he still just couldn't get over the fact that someone had dared defied him. Gwen didn't even make it to Cole's first birthday." He was silent for a minute, then he said it. The one terrible thought that he had never articulated out loud to anyone. Not even Myra. "I think my father killed her. Like, literally, premediated, killed her."
Stunned and disturbed by the whole story, Ellie didn't know what to say. What finally came out was. "W-why?"
"Do you mean what exactly makes me think he killed her or what do I think his motive was?" Marty questioned, then answered both question, "Even with everything Dr. Goodwin put her through, Gwen was in prime physical health, barely in her thirties-and she dies of a heart attack? And he would know how to make it look like a heart attack. I think he thought that if she felt like it was her only option, she'd reveal the project. She wouldn't want to see me hurt, so it would be the nuclear option, but—it made her a risk. And I think she was harder to control than he anticipated."
Not knowing what else to do, horrified and feeling for the boy beside her, Ellie put her hand over his in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.
The rest of the journey to the next suspected hide out was taken in silence. When they arrived they pressed themselves up against the building and ducking under a window, Marty peaking inside. Suddenly he saw a shadow move. "I think I got movement."
"You sure it's not a rat this time?" Ellie whispered.
That was when Theo and David came into view.
"Oh, it's definitely a rat." Marty hushed, "The human kind."
"What?" Ellie responded.
However, instead of answering, Marty got up and hurried towards the door, Ellie trailing him. "Stay behind me, just in case." Then he went up and knocked on the door incessantly, calling out, "Guys, it's me, open up! We really need to talk! Come on, guys, David, Neta—"
Suddenly the door was thrusted open by an angry David. "You got a nerve showing up here."
"I came here to call a truce." Marty said, "We've got bigger problems right now."
"Like what?" David sneered.
"They've started termination of the project." Marty informed him, "They're killing us. They've already gotten at least one."
That revelation got them both inside, David and Theo leading them into a room with a ratty coral colored couch against the wall, plastic milk crates all over the place, and a metal table in the center, and four others—Lizzie Hadley among them- milling about. Wrapping an arm around herself as if that could protect her, Ellie couldn't help but stare at her double.
Lizzie met her gaze. "Whoa. It's like looking in a funhouse mirror."
"Guys, give us the room." David ordered, "And someone tell Waneta to get down here. Stat."
The others reluctantly did as they were told, though Lizzie kept looking back at Ellie.
Ellie couldn't take her eyes on off the girl either as she walked out the door. That was her sister. Her sister who killed her own parents.
"I know." Marty whispered, "I know." Turning back to the table, he caught sight of the files of the table, his eyes widening as he saw two of them. "No way. You got—"
"They're my gift to Myra when she gets back." David cut him off, "Your little, ah, friend back there, she told you they arrested Myra, right?" The look he sent Ellie was as venomous as a snake.
A new wave of fear hitting her, Ellie stepped back.
"David, remember what we agreed to." Marty warned him, "And yes, I know. She's okay, by the way, all things considered, at least that's what Ellie told me."
David scoffed. "Cause Ellie's such a good friend."
Just then Waneta rushed in. "What's going on? Theo told me you just let Marty in with Elizabeth S. like—" Her voice trailed off when he saw the boy, freezing.
"Waneta, you look well." Marty greeted the girl somewhat awkwardly, "Nice to see you found your contacts."
Waneta glared at him, seething. "After what you did you think you can just—"
"They're started termination, Waneta." David cut her up, "He wants to call a truce to deal with it."
"Oh." Waneta responded, "I see." She walked over to one side of the table as David sat down, "You might want to sit down." This was directed at her former friend.
Marty sat down in the chair across the table, Ellie huddling close to him, but standing, mirroring Waneta and David's position at the table. "Is Vera okay?" David asked, "I really didn't want to do that. Not to her."
"Save it." Waneta spat, "Last time I saw her she was icing her jaw. Your handy work, wasn't it?"
Marty downcast his eyes, hatting himself for having to that. One week ago, they would have been united on protecting her. Protecting any of them that had been in that place. What happened?
Waneta got back on topic. "So, when you say they've started termination—"
"I went Dr. Goodwin's when I got to the city." Marty explained, "See if they started yet, plus I knew you'd show up there eventually. Myra Myers was there when I got there. She had just been told, wasn't taking it well. If I hadn't shown up where I did…well, you know. According to Cole there's been others, I don't have an exact number. I've been kind of busy."
David looked like he was going to be sick and Waneta rubbed her forehead. "What do you suppose we do?" David asked, earning him a glare from Waneta.
"You're not gonna like it." Marty warned, "It starts with that cop you snatched at Claremont. He's still alive, correct?"
"What's that got to do with this?" David asked.
"We need to turn ourselves in to the cops." Marty declared.
"Starting with letting Bright go." Ellie added.
Everyone went quiet for a moment. "Are you freaking serious right now?!" David balked finally.
"Guys, this is going off the rails." Marty cut him off, "You're losing clones, maybe as we speak, and they've already got Myra. If you cuts deals against Daedalus, maybe—"
"I can't believe what I'm hearing." Waneta lamented, "I really can't. You've—you've gone native. You think you're one of them. It's not happening, Marty. It's just—not."
Marty looked to David, who he realized was the one in charge now.
"I'm with her." David informed him, "End of discussion."
"What was the point of letting us in if you weren't even going to listen…"Ellie demanded.
"Ellie, please." Marty cut her off, before addressing the others, "Look, up until a week ago, we were friends. Surely, we can come to come kind of compromise." He glanced over at Ellie, the adding, "How about you at least let her see her friend? As a show of goodwill."
Neither of them answered, but David stiffened and Waneta balked.
"Look, I don't get it either." Marty responded, "But she's worried about him. Just—let her see that he's alive. There's thirteen of you and two of us. What could we possibly do?"
David stood up from the table. "Give me a sec." He walked away from the table and then called out, "Lizzie, get in here a minute."
Lizzie stepped into the doorway and all Ellie could do was stare.
"Take Ellie upstairs to the cop." David ordered, "Watch 'em, make sure no one tried anything."
Lizzie gestured with her head, ordering Lizzie, "Come on."
Ellie was once again frozen in her spot, staring at the stranger with her face who staring back at her with a hard glare. It was all just too insane.
"David, this is cruel." Marty began to protest.
"No," Ellie insisted suddenly, finally getting her feet to move. "I'm good. I'm fine."
"This way." Lizzie told her, almost emotionless, nodding with her head and leading her away, while the others turned back to the business at hand.
They walled in silence, Lizzie leading the way to the entry way and up the stairs. The whole time, Ellie just kept staring at the back of her head. Her hair was longer, pinned in a smooth ponytail like it had been in the picture Malcolm and Dani had showed her, with the purple streak, but that was just about where the differences ended. They had the same face, same build even.
Lizzie paused as they got to the break in the stars. "You're staring."
"I'm sorry, it's just this –" Ellie began, "This is just beyond."
Lizzie finally turned around. "You're telling me."
As the pair took each other in, it occurred to Ellie that her mirror image was also the image of a killer.
You don't know that. Ellie scolded herself, Remember what Bright said. They didn't know for sure. Then again, she was there with them. That had to say something.
Lizzie turned around and began to walk again. "Ask it. I know you want to."
Ellie swallowed thickly. "Did you do it? Did you kill your parents? Your brother?"
"Parents, no." Lizzie answered bluntly. "Connor, on the other hand… " She broke into a cruel, toothless smile.
Horrified, Ellie bit back a gasp, wide-eyed.
Lizzie stopped again, whirling around, sending the other girl back serval feet. "Don't look at me like that." She spat, "You have no idea what that monster put me through." Suddenly she back the shoulder of her blouse, revealing a scared that looked like some kind of bite. "You see this?" He was helping get me dressed one day and I was being cranky, so he bit me so hard it drew blood. He was seven. I was two. I only remember it because my parents would retell the story and laugh about it. She pulled back so hair and revealed another scar on her forehead. "This was from where he would keep digging his fingernails into me, over and over again, when I least expected it. When I'd complain, mom would just go 'stop it, your brother loves you'. She unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt, revealing yet another long scar across her abdomen. "This is from where he tried to cut me open. I was four. There's a dozen more stories, and couple dozen scars to go with them. Trust me, I did the world a favor. If it weren't for me, he'd be the serial killer one day. I'd probably saved countless lives." She turned around and began walking up the stairs again.
Ellie followed, stunned into silence. At last she found her words. "Your parents never did anything to stop him?" She was an only child, but she figured if your older child was torturing the younger one, you would intervene.
"Hmph." Lizzie muttered, with a bitter scoff, "Look up 'enabler' in the dictionary. and you'll see a picture of Whitney and Lewis Halley. "She paused, looking down, "All this time, I thought it was my fault. I never understood what I could've done to make him hate me so much. Why they didn't even seem to care. I even began considering that maybe I was just a whiner after all." She let out a louder, contemptuous scoffed, "But no! They were getting paid the whole time to look the other way while he tried to kill me! So yeah, the minute I learned the truth I jumped on the vengeance band wagon." Her diatribe was cut suddenly by a harsh coughing fit.
"You need a minute?" Ellie asked with a twinge of empathy.
"I'm fine." Lizzie lied, turning back around on the stairs and walking up without another word.
At last they came to a makeshift cell, and found to their surprise, the cell empty. "What the—"
Lizzie began, when suddenly she was pushed from behind, falling to the ground , revealing a girl about the same age as them in a lose-fitting long sleeve black sweater and pencil skirt.
"Ellie Stone?" Vera asked.
"How—" Ellie began.
"Come on," Vera demanded dragging her by the wrist, "This way."
Using the knife, Ellie cut Malcolm's hands free and he removed the blindfold. "How did you—"
"I'll explain later." Ellie answered ,"Sorry about the knife. Did you see any other way out of this place?"
Lizzie scrambled to her feet, "David! David, it's a set up!"
The trio were in the middle of negotiations when Lizzie's words reached them, causing everything to shift. Within seconds both David and Marty on their feet, each of them pulling a gun while Waneta pulled out a box cutter in her pocket.
"Bringing a box cutter to a gunfight?" Marty panted, "You know better."
"Neta, get behind me." David ordered, "Was any of it true? About the terminations?"
"It was all true." Marty answered, "They had a week to get their act together while you were dropping bodies across the eastern seaboard. You had to see this coming. Now, I meant what I said earlier. Sending Ellie up there was only plan B. We can turn this around…"
"We both know that's not true!" David shouted.
"Yeah," Marty said soberly, "I know." Circumstances aside, they had killed a dozen people, in horrible ways. There was no coming back from that. "So, what now? You shoot me?" Up until last week, he would have called David his best friend, and he would like to think David would say the same. Now they were literally holding firearms on each other. In spite of the danger he was presently in, Marty couldn't help wondering, once again, how it had come to this.
"Are you really going to shoot me ?" David challenged.
Back upstairs Vera and Ellie skitted to a stop at another flight of stairs, where Malcolm was pulling at a clear, glistening line, wincing in pain. He paused when he saw them. He thought he had heard her. "Ellie, what are you…"
"Just in case of what?" Ellie questioned, letting Malcolm go ahead of her.
"Rescuing you." Ellie replied, "Thought, it seems you might not needed." Seeing him struggling with the line again, she walked that past. "Or maybe you do."
"Yeah. No one told Vera here they'd boobied trapped the fire exit. He tried again to remove the fish hook, sending a white hot wave of pain through the afflicted aera.
Remembering she had the knife, she held it out ,asking, "Would this help?"
"Perfect." Malcolm said as Vera took the knife and helped Malcolm cut through the wire. "Okay, I think I see where the rest of them are. Stay behind me, I'll move them out of the way."
Defusing the booby traps made the process excruciating slowly, Malcolm having to stop every few steps to hold back fishhooks, but surprisingly no one had caught up with them. Not even Lizzie, who had been right there.
Then a gunshot went off from downstairs.
Ellie yelped, jumping a little on the just, just slightly, but enough to bump into Malcolm and send both of them flying. Suddenly Malcolm felt the white hot sting of a fishhook going into his flesh again, just this time int his shoulder, and Ellie felt the same sting in her hand. Only Vera was spared, but she just missed the hook.
"Ellie, stay still." Malcolm told her, "Don't struggle, you could make it worst." He knew that if he wanted to get to her, he had to free himself first. Vera took the knife and began to cut. It seemed to take forever, but she severed the wire, Malcolm taking the knife from her and deftly cutting Ellie free, hearing her let out an involuntary whimper. "I know, I know, it hurts, but I promise I'll be as quick as I can."
He finally got her free, just as three figures appeared at the top of the stairs, two dark to make out who they were. They needed to speed this up. Malcolm risked holding back two stairs worth of fish hooks, just as a yelp came from up the stairs. Apparently one of their pursuers had got caught in their own booby trap. With that distraction, they made it to the door, when Malcolm saw something that made him put his arm up in front of the girl to stop their descent.
Attached to ceiling, tied up so anyone who didn't know they were there was likely to miss them, were two paint cans.
"Someone's seen Home Alone one too many times." Ellie breathed.
Malcolm surveyed the aera, trying to find a way around the trap. If they wanted to get to the door, there was none. But surely the thirteen had to consider that they could need the door themselves at some point. "We're going to have duck." He told her, grabbing Ellie wrist, " Grab Vera for me? On three. One, two…."
With that, the three ducked down, running as the cans fell, bursting through the door into the back always. They were running out to the street when it happened. It was a matter of seconds, Ellie felt throat closing up. She collapsed to the ground, nearly taking Malcolm with her.
Malcolm managed to stop his descent, gathering the teen in his arms. "Ellie! Ellie, I need you to stay with me…"
At the same time all this was happening, Beatrice had found her way back to a certain scientist, and tentively knocking on the door. She knocked again, when the door was opened, revealing the man himself. "Myra, thank God." Dr. Goodwin exclaimed, ushering her in, "Sorry, Beatrice."
Beatrice walked in, her head bowed. "I'm ready."
"Yes, about that." Dr. Goodwin said, shutting the door, "There's been a slight change in plans." Seeing the look on her face he assured her, "We will take care of the problem, but I need your help with something first. "He ushered her up the stairs, "Come, I'll explain."