Chapter 8: Plans
Sydney searched incessantly for her journal. She knew that she put it at the foot of the bed and now it was no where to be found.
"Please, God, don't say I lost it…" Sydney whispered to herself then bounced downstairs. "Say it's in the living room."
Unfortunately, her pleas weren't satisfied. It was as if it vanished into thin air. Her eyes usual glow was missing, but only depression filled them. She sighed and left the room shaking impulsively. The girl barely fell to the ground, the cause was her trembling. Sweat filled her brow as she dragged herself in the bathroom, raiding the medicine cabinets. Finding her medication, Sydney popped a pill in her mouth and swallowed it with the help of water.
"It's going to be all right, Sid…: She murmured to herself, "Get a hold of yourself and everything will be fine." Closing her eyes, her quivering stopped and she reopened them, "See? You're fine."
The gal turned on the television, sinking into one of the comfy chairs settled in the living room. The screen illuminated movement on a show, in which she flipped the channels several times. Stopping at a show, the TV filled with screaming fans, she was met by the constant stare of Carson Daley.
She laid on her perch for several hours, not even stopping to quit her peering at the television screen. The sun had set slowly, leaving the small town in a blanket of darkness. This state excited Miller to the point of insomnia. Up in her bedroom was where she wrote stories, fan-fic or poems. Music was shattering from the stereo, the sweet tunes of pop music blared. The hours she spent writing and listening to music seemed to be dreary for her. Yawning loudly, Sydney threw her things on the floor, turned off the stereo as well as the lights and nestled in her humongous waterbed. Her eyes occluded shit and rest flooded her body, making her feel relaxed.
The inhabitants of the van were restless, especially Fawkes. He sat near a monitor just observing the screens. His partner, on the other hand, was caught sleeping on the job with his loud, annoying, snore that bothered Darien.
"Hobbes," Darien pushed his partner with his hand, abruptly. There wasn't any response though, "Hey, Hobbes…c'mon, buddy, wake up!"
"I'm up, I'm up." Bobby jolted up while monitoring the scenery that was around him, "What I miss?"
"Nothin'…yet…"
"'Yet?' What does 'yet' mean?"
Hobbes' cell phone rang in an irking tone.
"Hobbes."
"I have the results from the rats…" The Keeper welcomed.
"And?"
"It's not very good. There's an unidentified enzyme in the rat's blood, making the medication highly addictive. I will need a blood sample from the girl as soon as possible so I can hopefully counteract the effects."
"Why not get it from the rats?" Bobby asked inquisitively.
"There's a certain 'code', as you may put it, to this enzyme. I can try to find an antidote for the rats, but not for humans. Whoever made these narcotics were very clever to cover up their tracks." Claire explicated.
"Ok, we'll get on it."
The cell was disconnected and the curious Darien devised an idea.
"I'm going inside again." Darien picked up a sterile syringe that was adequate to store blood.
"If you're thinking of what I'm thinking…I'm thinking not, my friend. You're not qualified to do that." Fawkes' colleague reminded him.
"I learn easily."
"Hold on, partner…I think I got a brilliant idea."