Images - Chapter 6 - Rising Above
Original Cindy practically danced all the way back to her apartment. A job. A real job, as Herbal Thought had put it. This was something she hadn't really expected in her wildest dreams. A chance to perhaps scramble up off of the gigantic trash heap of her life, and onto bigger and better things. Like maybe a smaller trash heap.
The only worry she'd really had about taking this new job was leaving all of her friends behind. Especially Max. It hadn't escaped Original Cindy's notice that her best friend had been the only one of the Jam Pony crew who hadn't been begging her to let them ride on her coattails. She knew it wasn't because Max absolutely adored working at Jam Pony, but couldn't put her finger on a good explanation. She shoved her friend to the back of her mind, knowing Max could take care of herself, and unlocked her apartment, preparing to really shine herself up for this new gig.
It didn't take very long for her to get ready, and soon she was back out on the street. She barely gave a second glance to three men walking stiffly, but with purpose, as she passed by them. "Hope they get those sticks out of their asses before they meet however whoever they gonna be seein'," she said to herself, but quickly forgot them as she made her way to her new employer's.
The woman assigned to train Original Cindy was just a little too perky. Her voice had a squeaky lilt as she asked, "So, have you worked in insurance before?"
Original Cindy quickly racked her brain for anything appropriate. "Technically speaking, no. But remember back in school when you used to play the dozens?"
The woman blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You know – tradin' insults. Like, 'Your breath so bad, people call you on the phone, they hang up.' I happen to be blessed with mad verbal skills. Kids used to pay me cash money to come up with dis they could use. So in a way, I guess you could say I sold insurance against catastrophic tongue failure." Original Cindy nearly grimaced. Speakin' too fast, sugar. A wonder this chick – what was her name? – don't take back this job already.
If the woman minded Original Cindy's ramblings, she didn't show a sign. She just handed her a piece of paper. "Mmm. Maybe you better familiarize yourself with this. It's our standard sales pitch. Our manager, Mr. Petrick, likes us to stick to the script."
"No problem, sugar." Original Cindy smiled as she took a seat at her desk. My desk! a stunned part of her brain cheered.
"Uhh…here's the schedule of benefits for our policy. It's a good idea to memorize it so you can answer any questions customers might have." The woman passed OC another sheet.
"Aiight." Some obscene part of Original Cindy's mind wished the woman would say, "bip" just once. Then maybe her stomach would settle and she could begin kicking ass.
"Well! I have to run to the bank for Mr. Petrick. When I get back, we'll set you up with some numbers so you can start cold calling. Okay?"
"Okay." Would you leave already?
"Okay," the woman repeated before she turned and walked away.
Original Cindy shot the woman a quick thumbs-up and picked up the pages the woman had left. "Have you ever worried what might happen to you or your dependents if you were left unable to work due to a disfiguring accident? Well, worry no more," she read aloud. She rolled her eyes and flipped the pages face down on the desk. She stared at them for nearly fifteen minutes before slowly picking them up again, almost unwilling to believe she was going to be a playa in this strange game.
She passed up the stupid script that she knew she would have to learn one of these days, and instead chose to focus on the sheet of benefits, knowing that What's-Her-Name was right, that memorizing it would probably up her chances of success. If only reading it wasn't such a trip…
"Okay, I think they've got to be making some of this up. I'm pretty sure there's not a part of the body called that. If so, Original Cindy ain't even gonna start thinkin' on what it's used for," OC said, laughing. She quickly cut off her laugh as What's-Her-Name came back. Thankfully, Tammy, as OC later came to learn her name was, was a little busy when she returned, so she only passed Original Cindy the sheet of numbers to call, and quickly left.
For the rest of the day, Original Cindy did her absolute best. Her initial goal was to make five sales. By the end of the day, her goal was to at least get someone to talk to her. Finally, she found one guy who sounded interested. "$25,000 if you lose an eye and a leg, or both eyes and a hand. And if you sign up now, you can take advantage of this offer that won't cost you an arm and a leg…" she rolled her eyes at the lame script, but her attention quickly returned.
"Would you…uh…mind if I asked you a few questions?" the man asked in a breathy voice.
Original Cindy was surprised, but couldn't help the feeling of pride that washed over her, as she knew she had finally found her rhythm. "A few questions? Sure. What do you want to know?"
"My buddy."
Original Cindy blinked. "Excuse me?"
"My buddy, my beatin' partner. How much if I lost 'im?" His breathing speeded up.
"How much if you lost your what?"
"What if I totally jerk 'im off?" The man groaned and Original Cindy could hear the slap of skin on skin through the line. "What are you wearing?" the man whispered deeply.
"What am I wearing? Freak!" Original Cindy quickly clicked off the line and pulled off her headset, incensed and disappointed by how the call had ended.
It was already late by the time she left Washington-Meridian Insurance. She was dejected that she wouldn't have a glorious tale of major cash rolling in to tell her friends at Crash. As she walked through the door, she barely had time to greet Herbal Thought and Sketchy before Max quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her off towards the foosball table, talking a mile a minute.
"Hold up," Original Cindy finally interrupted, barely able to understand Max's gritted jabber. "What's this about Kendra and an alter? Original Cindy knew that girl's willing to experiment, but I think that one's a first for her." Original Cindy plucked the ball out of the return slot, and dropped it in the middle of the table, sending it spinning into play. "But I'm not sure that's enough to get your undies in the high twist they seem to be."
Max glared at her friend and blew out a frustrated breath, grabbing the handles on the side of the table, and twisting angrily. "Not Kendra and an alter. Your ears must be busted or somethin'. I said Kendra and Walter," Max enunciated each word to a fine clip. "Walter!"
Original Cindy looked up from the table and frowned. "Who?"
Max sighed and closed her eyes briefly, still managing to get one of the foosmen to "kick" the ball across the table. "Walter, the doughnut patroller who used to shake us down for as much as he could manage? I found him and Kendra…together…with handcuffs."
Original Cindy understood. At least, until her brain began to freeze up at the mental image it was creating. She ignored it and tried to think logically. "So she's hitting it with the po-po, and getting kinky with the handcuffs, huh?"
"Do you mind? I'm trying to purge that particular image from my memory." Max kept her attention riveted to game.
Original Cindy tried to do the same, but couldn't help commenting. "Original Cindy can understand the power of a well-starched uniform. I once had me a girlfriend that was one hundred percent U.S. Marine. Damn, she was fine in her dress blues. Teeennn-HUT!" Happy visions flooded into her mind, chasing away the image of Kendra and her new love toy…toys.
"He's twice her age," Max complained.
"Original Cindy can understand the allure of maturity. I once had a girlfriend who had a daughter that was older than me. She was fine, too. Which got kinda complicated, but we not gonna go into that."
"Will you stop?!" Max practically begged.
Original Cindy looked up at Max, and was somewhat surprised to see how pained Max seemed to be about all of this. "All I'm sayin' is, it takes all kinds to make a world. This cop moves Kendra's furniture, who are we to judge?"
Max barely hesitated before admitting, "It's just everywhere I look, people keep changing on me. You know, Kendra's knocking boots with a guy whose coffee I used to spit in. You're making a getaway from Jam Pony hell, and Logan's…I don't know."
And here we go again back to the root of the problem. No wonder she actin' so whacked out. "What? Your squeeze givin' you a hard time, sugar?" Original Cindy said gently, not totally expecting Max to open up.
Max didn't disappoint. Her answer was an evasive one, "No. It's
just his…possibilities are…expanding. And he's not my squeeze."
Original Cindy almost laughed. It took a full ten seconds for Max to protest
"squeeze". She must be getting more used to the idea. Both of their
hands stilled on the foosball handles for a few seconds. "Hmm. Is he kickin'
it with someone else?"
"No," Max said. They began the game again. "It's all good. It's just all…different."
Original Cindy sighed, almost wishing Max and Logan would shack up already and give her some peace. "Boo, you dwellin' too much on things that ain't party-related." Max quickly spun one of the levers, and sent the ball rocketing into Original Cindy's goal. Every single game, Max pulled that move…and won. Even after all of this time, OC wasn't sure how she'd managed it. And, like every other time, Max looked up at her with a purely self-satisfied look on her face. "You know what you need?" Original Cindy asked.
"A pitcher of beer," answered Max with a slight smile.
"Read my mind."
They headed off to a table that Herbal Thought and Sketchy had already taken over. Sketchy, bless his soul, was pouring Original Cindy the rest of the beer into a glass for her.
"So how much you rake in today?" Sketchy asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
With Max's newest drama, Original Cindy had forgotten about the crappy end today. What else are friends for, but to keep you from thinkin' on the bad stuff? "Nothing," she admitted. "As in zip, zero, nada."
"You mean to say that you worked hard all day with no compensation whatsoever?" Herbal said in his precisely unaccented speech.
"Are you okay?" Max asked with concern.
Original Cindy was surprised that Max hadn't heard him speak yet; judging by her mostly emptied glass, she figured the woman had been at Crash for a while. Instead, she must have just been knocking back really quickly. "Brotha man's just havin' an identity crisis. Anyway, the dealio with this job is it's a commission-type situation. I followed the script they gave me, straight up."
"And no sale?" Sketchy questioned, unable to believe his ears.
"Not even a nibble. I even code-switched. Pulled way back on the flavor," she said, the disappointment beginning to rise again.
"See, that's the problem. You're not being yourself," Max said softly. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke, and a quick flash of something flitted behind her eyes – guilt, concern, worry, something. But it just vanished as soon as it came. Original Cindy was surprised to see that much behind the mask at all, and figured that Max must have identified somehow with her own words.
"I don't know, boo. Sister girl want the scrilla, peeps gotta feel what she's puttin' down," Original Cindy said, taking a drink of her beer.
Max reached across the table in an obvious gesture, picking up the pitcher and standing. "Next round's on me."
"So what are you gonna do?" Sketchy asked. "You gotta do somethin', or you'll soon be hockin' all your Xena stuff to survive."
Original Cindy glared at Sketchy. Somewhere in the bar, she heard the sound of glass breaking, unaccompanied by the usual applause given to the unfortunate klutz. "Don't worry, Sketchy. I'd even let you pimp me out before I let one of my Xena bits go."
"My sister, perhaps selling one or two of your little souvenirs would ease up your wallet. Then you wouldn't have to worry so much about this new job," Herbal pointed out.
Original Cindy shifted her glare. "And why don't you go buy yourself a tie and 2.5 kiddies to complete your new 'look'? When are you gonna step to the real, like Max said, and be yourself?" She took a last sip out of her glass and stared into the foam ringing the bottom.
Herbal Thought just laughed. "Maybe by the time you make a return to Jam Pony. I am loyal to my woman, and if she asks me to try to…enunciate…more, I will. However long it takes."
"Hey, speaking of Max, where's our beer?" Sketchy interrupted.
Original Cindy looked up, suddenly realizing that Max had been gone for a long time. She shrugged and stood. "Homegirl probably just havin' some trouble liftin' that heavy ol' pitcher." She smiled, knowing Max could easily heft her bike over her shoulder, so a pitcher full of beer would be no trouble. "I'd better go see what's got her jammed up." She pushed away from the table, and headed towards the main room. She turned a corner, scanning the area for any sign of her friend.
"Hey, Lamar!" Original Cindy called to the bartender as she approached the bar.
Lamar was busily pouring drinks for the large crowd huddled at the bar, but took a moment to walk over to Cindy. "What can I get you?"
"You see Max around?"
Lamar shrugged. "Saw her when she came in tonight, but not since."
"Oh, okay. Th—"
"Coupla the peeps say they saw a hot chick sprintin' outta here, though. Coulda been her," he continued.
Original Cindy blinked, and frowned. She turned, examining the room more closely, and spotted a pitcher, shattered on the floor. "Thanks, man," she said absently over her shoulder as she quickly returned to Sketchy and Herbal. She stopped their questions with a quick look as she grabbed her coat. "Max is feelin' a little punk. I'm gonna walk her back to her crib."
Both men frowned. "She didn't seem to be feeling ill," Herbal remarked, concerned.
"Need help?" Sketchy, too, looked worried about their friend.
"Nah, I got her back," Original Cindy replied as she walked quickly away from the table.
Once she got outside, she took a deep breath of the stale Seattle air, not really sure what to do. She thought briefly about calling Logan, but knew that since Max "departed" so quickly, he probably had no idea what was going on. At least not yet. And trying to find her was pointless. She'd been there, done that one time too often. She began walking and hoped she'd figure out where she was going once she got there.
The city streets seemed clean in the darkness. The ever-present rain puddles added a shine to the slickness that permeated the ground. Still, OC quickly sidestepped these as she wandered the streets. After about thirty minutes of walking, she found herself standing in front of an apartment building that had never quite made it to getting finished. She looked up at the darkened structure, and whispered, "Well, boo, hope you was smart and ran home." She walked up to the large piece of plywood that served as the main entrance door, and ducked under the large chain that held it shut.
Six flights of stairs later, Original Cindy was breathing a little heavily from the exertion. "You'd think they could squat on, say, the fifth floor. But, nooooo. Skinny-ass has to get the extra two floor workout. Like she even needs it." She walked over to the door to Max and Kendra's apartment and knocked. She smiled when she noticed that there was no number on the door. Most people in the building had some kind of number, even if there was no consistency in the numbering system. Original Cindy had heard Max complain many times about the "idiot in 12B", even though there were five 12B's on that floor. And she was pretty sure there were also two more on the 13th floor, for those who were superstitious. But no number for Max. OC could imagine that her individualist friend wouldn't want any type of label.
After standing in the hall for several long, anxious minutes, Original Cindy realized that neither Max nor Kendra was home. She reached to try the doorknob, and found the door unlocked, even though there was a deadbolt. No need to lock up around this dump. She walked into the pitch-black apartment, and fumbled around for the light switch. She flicked the first one she could find, and the pitiful excuse for fluorescent lighting sputtered to life. "Well, at least there ain't no bodies lyin' around." Although she joked even to herself, she was relieved. She was also relieved that Max's motorcycle was still there. She knew Max wouldn't go anywhere without that thing.
She sighed as she took a quick lap around the apartment. She'd been there several times before, but it seemed that each time was a surprise. Original Cindy could see hints of Kendra everywhere – in the coloring, the bits of underwear laying about – but other than the motorcycle, there was no real indication that Max lived there at all. It was almost as though it was merely a place for her to exist.
That thought frightened her a bit. Max had always struck her as the type who could pick up and leave at a moment's notice, even though she had lived in Seattle for several years now. There were no attachments keeping her here. Logan was the closest thing, but every time Max denied that there was something between them, that was one less tie holding her down. That motorcycle would be able to carry her far away from whatever had been chasing her, other nights and tonight. Well, Original Cindy thought, settling herself in a chair next to it. At least tonight she'd have to get by me first. 'Cuz Original Cindy ain't goin' nowhere.
"Hey, Original Cindy. Wake up!" a rusty voice called through her foggy dreams.
Original Cindy moaned and rubbed her eyes, blinking at the harsh light flooding the room. Light? She knew that the kitchen light didn't brighten the dingy apartment that well. Looking around quickly, she saw that the shades had been drawn to let the morning sunlight in. Her eyes finally focused on a face that was way too close: Kendra. Original Cindy blinked hard again and jerked out of the chair. "Oh God! I can't believe I fell asleep. I'm gonna be late for work!"
Kendra laughed. "Don't worry. It's still pretty early. You should be good."
Original Cindy saw that Max's motorcycle was still in place from the night before. "Max come home?" she asked.
Kendra shook her head. "Not that I know of. Haven't seen her, and she's usually awake way before now."
Original Cindy was both relieved and worried at the same time. If she could just talk to Max, she'd feel a lot better. "I don't know how she does it. Original Cindy needs her solid eight or she's moldy in the a.m." Original Cindy stretched the kinks out of her neck, and checked her watch. "Looks like I got 'em last night, barely. But I don't think I'm gonna be able to bounce back to my crib before I gotta be at work."
"I heard a rumor you managed to ditch Scum Pony. Your new deal got a dress code?" Kendra questioned.
Original Cindy shrugged. "Yes and no. OC can't be lookin' like she crawled in off the streets, but she don't need to be no macked out deal, neither."
Kendra nodded and pulled on Cindy's arm. "Come on. I think I've got something for you. And if it doesn't work, we'll raid Max's closet." Kendra managed to come up with a red shirt that possibly clung a little too close for the workplace, but made Original Cindy feel a bit more comfortable. A pair of Max's black stretchy leather pants, and the boots she'd worn yesterday, completed the outfit. Kendra waved her out the door with a large smile. "Have a nice day!"
"You, too, boo!" Original Cindy called behind her as she began the walk down the hall. But after a few steps, she paused and turned. "Hey, Kendra!"
Kendra stopped just as she began to close the apartment door and leaned back outside. "Yeah?"
"Walter?"
Kendra's smile softened and her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, Walter."
Original Cindy smiled. "He moves your furniture, that's cool, long as he takes good care of you."
Kendra waved and shut the door. As Original Cindy walked down the stairs, she thought, Sketchy and Herbal each have their own womenfolk, Kendra has Walter, and Max has Logan. So who's gonna take care of Original Cindy?
It was another long, disappointing day at Washington Meridian Insurance. Even though Original Cindy had managed to arrive on time, it was obvious that most of the other employees had been there for hours. Tammy didn't hesitate to cheerfully point out this fact, and to encourage Original Cindy to become more of a "team player".
She didn't know how badly Original Cindy wanted to switch teams at that moment.
Original Cindy's throat was sore from talking all day, even though it was mostly in short sentences. Call after call, people didn't let her get very far in her script before they slammed the phone down. Her ears were beginning to ring from all the times she listened to a dial tone. She worked hard, continuously through her lunch hour and after everyone had gone home. With no sales under her belt, she was beginning to get desperate. She'd thought of paging Max, not only to check and make sure she was okay, but also to just break the monotony of hello-click. However, no sales meant no money, and Original Cindy decided she'd be able to hook up with her friend later. Max would be fine.
It was well into the evening when Original Cindy gave herself one final shot. This is it. All or nothing. This call will either be the one that starts something, or ends it. The phone rang twice before a frustrated sounding man picked up. "Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Mr. Rogelio Riquelme?" Original Cindy was pleased that she was able to get the difficult name out without too much trouble. One thing she'd learned was that the slightest mispronunciation could end a phone call before it had even started.
"Yeah. This is him."
She took a quick breath and began. "Have you ever worried what might happen to you or your dependents if you were left unable to work due to a disfiguring accident?"
"Oh, God!" Rogelio exclaimed. "Another fuckin' telemarketer. Jesus!"
"No no, don't hang up," Original Cindy begged.
"And why shouldn't I?"
Original Cindy hadn't realized that her plea had been aloud, but, resigned, she gave it everything she had. "Do not hang up this phone," she demanded.
The man paused, and then said, "Look, I'm a busy man."
Original Cindy sighed and stood up. She needed all the leverage she had for this one. "I know you a busy man, sugar. But let me keep it real for y'all. You lose and arm or a leg, and Washington Meridian Insurance gonna drop twenty large on whatever's left of your ass. Which is better than nothin', aiight?" To her sheer surprise, the man laughed.
"Yeah, I guess it is, isn't it?" Before he could say more, the sharp squall of a baby sounded clearly through the phone.
"Is that your seed I hear cryin' his little head off?"
The man sighed the sigh of a father whose patience was long gone. "That's him, alright."
"What's his name, boo?" she asked.
The man's smile was nearly audible. "That would be Rogelio, jr. ma'am."
Original Cindy smiled. Not many people called her ma'am. She could get used to it. "And what's little Rogelio and the baby's mama gonna do if you stone-cold dead? No daddy, no dolla dolla. Unless you step to me, and plan for that child's future. 'Cause Original Cindy's got you covered all over like foundation makeup on a drag queen."
The man roared out a laugh. "Okay, you got me. What else can you tell me about this ass insurance?"
Before she could answer, the door to the office burst open. She covered the mike on the headset, and pulled it down a bit as three men stiffly walked over to her. She vaguely recognized two of them, but couldn't quite place them. Cocky with her win, Original Cindy loosely asked, "What can I do for you girls?"
Two of the men pulled out large guns, and pointed them directly at her.
Original Cindy felt all the blood rush out of her head and pool somewhere near her feet. She stared dumbly, as Rogelio's voice came through her earpiece, "Hello? Hello? Ma'am?"
The third man, the only one not pointing a gun at her at the moment, smiled a cold smile. "You can go ahead and shut that off, if you want. Just don't make any other sudden movements, and my team here won't shoot you."
Original Cindy swallowed and nodded slowly. She carefully reached towards the phone, and clicked it off.
The man nodded to his team, and they put away their guns. Any relief Original Cindy had at that was quickly stemmed by the third man pulling out his own gun, and pointing it towards her. "I'll take over here, gentlemen, thank you. Please take your headset off and have a seat, miss. We need to have a little chat."
Original Cindy was grateful for the direction, since she wasn't sure her trembling legs would hold her up much longer. All of her thoughts were tumbling around rapidly in her head, and she wished she could find just one that was coherent. "I…I don't have any cash, if that's what you're after," OC said, her voice shaking.
The man's icy blue eyes seemed almost amused as he cocked his head at her. "We're not here after money. We're not even here to hurt you. I'm going to give you the opportunity to walk out of here alive, if you just cooperate."
She nodded tentatively, not sure what they wanted. If they didn't want money, and they didn't want to just kill her…rape her? That thought was just as frightening. "What do ya need me to do?" she asked.
The two bruisers who had held their guns on her earlier began to move around the room, looking for other people or traps or something. The blonde man smiled, and OC vaguely thought that his smile was exactly what a shark's smile would look like. "It's quite simple," the man began. "You were at a bar tonight—"
"Crash?" she offered helpfully.
"Yes, Crash." The man lifted his gun a little more. "Please do not interrupt again. You are wasting our time."
Original Cindy nodded, and didn't say another word.
"There was a girl there with you. We need you to contact her for us."
She hadn't known she could feel any more lightheaded than she already did, but somehow she managed it. She knew exactly who they wanted. Max. Suddenly, Max's caginess made sense. It was survival. "There were lots of girls there…" she began lamely, hoping to stall any little bit while she tried to come up with some kind of plan to help her friend.
The man with the gun narrowed his eyes, and walked closer to her. He put the gun right at Original Cindy's heart, and moved his face within inches of hers. "You know exactly who I mean. You contact her for us, get her over here, and you walk away without a scratch. If not…" He turned to look at one of the other men. The muscular man picked up a coffee mug from a desk and squeezed, shattering it in his hand. The man with the gun turned back to Original Cindy. "You'll have a choice in how you die."
Original Cindy swallowed, pushing down her fear. She slowly nodded her agreement. "I got her pager number. She's usually pretty good about hittin' me back quick."
The man nodded, and withdrew the gun. He leaned back against the desk behind OC's, getting comfortable while he held her hostage.
She carefully dialed her friend's pager number, trying not to let her hand shake too much as she did it. Original Cindy didn't know whether to pray Max called her back, or hope Max ignored the page. Either way, she had some time to think.
For about ten long seconds, she and the man stared at each other. Original Cindy began to sweat. She was worried that soon they would just shoot her and answer the call themselves. God, please help me get through this. Help me be doing the right thing, she prayed silently.
The phone rang.
Original Cindy nearly jumped out of her skin.
The man with the gun leaned closer to her and said, "Answer it. Use the speaker. No warnings."
As Original Cindy reached for the phone, her mind began to clear, and her tumbling thoughts started assembling themselves into an idea. She pressed the speaker button, and answered, "Washington Meridian Insurance."
"How goes it in the concrete jungle?" Max asked cheerfully.
"You know, you know…I speak my word and the peeps just give me all their money." She paused, thinking how to continue. Apparently, the man with the gun didn't like even the slightest pause, because he poked her with the gun. She continued in a hurry. "Listen, boo, there's a new club openin' tonight and I got some love with security. Why don't you swing on by here and pick me up, and we'll get our drink on?"
"Tonight's no good," Max answered.
At Max's answer, the man pushed his gun into Original Cindy's shoulder. Original Cindy closed her eyes, and knew what to do. She steeled herself. "But you gotta come meet my new hot boy, Carlito."
Max paused on the other end. "Carlito?" she repeated.
By the suspicion in Max's voice, Original Cindy knew that Max had gotten the message. All she could do was hope that Max would pack up and leave Seattle as fast as she could. Her mind, oddly enough, seemed to calm at that thought. She was dead, but her friend would live. That was enough for her. She looked at the man with the gun, and finished the job. "He a fine-ass stud. And he got a brother, too," she added, glancing at the one of the bruisers. "Wh-what do you say? You gonna come kick it?"
"Yeah. I can kick it. I'm on my way." Max hung up the phone.
Original Cindy closed the connection on the other end, and breathed a little easier when the man lowered his gun.
"That was easy, wasn't it?" the man asked sarcastically.
Original Cindy took a deep breath, as she began the wait for her own execution. "Yeah. Easy," she echoed hollowly. She prayed Max meant she was on her way out of town. If she was as smart as she always acted, she would be.
The man stood up and walked over to his thugs. They mumbled amongst each other, and Original Cindy heard the name "Johannessen". Good, I want to know the name of the guy who's gonna shoot me. Plus, I was getting sick of thinking of him as the "man with the gun".
The minutes ticked by slowly…painfully, almost. The thoughts were swirling in Original Cindy's mind once again, thoughts of her family, her friends, her life. In a way, she was saying goodbye to them all. Because…the more time that passed, the more likely Max was on her way out of Seattle and towards safety. And the closer Original Cindy was to her death.
Finally, Johannessen got fed up. "What the hell is taking so long? She should've been here by now."
Original Cindy was totally calm now. "I don't know. Girl's gotta look good." It didn't matter what she said to him. The outcome would still be the same.
Johannessen narrowed his eyes slightly as he moved back over to the desk and sat down. "You warned her somehow. Now she's in the wind." He raised the gun and pointed it directly at her chest. "And you're dead."
Original Cindy's eyes closed as she thought, An' I will not carry
myself down to die.
When I go to my grave, my head will be high, as she waited for the sound
of a gun shot and the bullet to pierce her heart. When a loud crash sounded,
she first accepted her fate, and then opened her eyes and turned as she realized
that the sound was from glass shattering. She could only catch a glimpse of
a dark figure before it hit the ground and crouched for a long moment. Her still-beating
heart fell as she realized who it was.
Max lifted her head and glared at the men. Blood glistened beneath her eyes
as she asked sarcastically through gritted teeth, "How do I look in red?"
Original Cindy could only stare as the fear flooded back into her body. Why
did she come back? her mind wondered as the two large men approached Max.
Max raised her fists and practically roared, "Bring it on!"
The two men leapt on top of Max, and began hitting her. Original Cindy stood just as Max threw them off, one flying through a window and the other landing on a desk. Max looked at her and shouted, "Go!"
Original Cindy ran. She sprinted out through a swinging door and fell to her knees, closing her eyes and clutching her arms close to her head, over her ears, to muffle the sounds of the violent fight within.
"Stay here," she heard a familiar voice say. She opened her eyes just in time to see Logan wheel through the swinging door.
As the sounds of the fight continued, Original Cindy willed herself to get up off the floor, but couldn't move. One small part of her felt better that Logan was there, knowing he would take care of Max for her. The other part knew that she had to do it herself. If she could only move.
A violent explosion sounded in the other room, and Original Cindy scrambled to her feet and raced to the door. The first thing she saw was Logan's wheelchair, but no Logan. Straining further to see without being noticed by the attackers, she soon saw Max, collapsed against a desk, and breathing heavily. She almost pushed open the door when she heard the clicking of a gun being cocked. She stilled as Johannessen slowly stepped towards Max. "I'll be needing that implant back," he told her.
Original Cindy couldn't hear Max's response. Her breathing seemed shallow, and she looked to be sitting up only because of the support of the desk. But OC did hear Johanessen's next comment. "You were. But with the implant in, you're dead anyway."
Cindy's heart stilled. She had thought she was sacrificing herself for Max…but it was really the other way around. Her head reeling from this revelation, she nearly missed his next comment. "Manticore transgenics are good. But you're not bulletproof."
She moved away from the door, unable to just watch her friend die. She turned to look at her surroundings and see if she could possibly find some type of weapon. She was in a storage room of sorts, so she began to quickly – and quietly – rifle through the various cabinets. As her hand touched a flashlight, the room plunged into darkness.
"Max! Move!" Logan shouted from the other room. A series of gunshots sounded, a man screamed, and then…
Silence.
Original Cindy quickly picked up the flashlight. Cautiously entering the room, she could see two figures in the dark. Taking a chance, she clicked it on, and turned the beam towards them. Max and Logan. Max was lying on the floor, unconscious, and Logan was next to her, gently gripping her shoulder. He looked up as the light fell on him, and Original Cindy could see his eyes debate her presence.
His eyes drifted away from Original Cindy and back towards Max. Watching the blood drip from her eyes and run down her face, he took a deep breath.
"Trust me," Original Cindy interrupted him before he could say anything.
Logan's face softened slightly, and he struggled to shift position while keeping hold on Max. He finally managed to scoot a bit, and was able to support himself a little better while he reached into his jacket pocket. "I'm going to need your help," he began. "I'm calling a friend. He should be able to help us…help her." He pulled out a cell phone and began dialing.
"I know the dealio. Just hurry," Original Cindy said as she walked over to his side and knelt down, helping to shift Max so she was more on her side, and not twisted up from having most likely fallen. She set the flashlight on the floor so they could see better.
"Sebastian? It's Logan. Yeah, I've found her, but… No…" Logan gently touched Max's head, and stroked her hair. Original Cindy couldn't help the slight happy flip her heart did at the sight, even under the circumstances. Logan lifted Max's head a bit, and the happy flip turned to a sick roll of her stomach at all the blood around Max's eyes. "Yeah," Logan said into the phone, just before Max's body began shaking.
"Damn," Original Cindy gasped.
"She's seizing," Logan said into the phone. After a short moment, he turned his head towards OC, glancing at her in from the corners of his eyes. "Get the case from my wheelchair. Yellow plastic case. Get it," he quickly snapped.
Original Cindy didn't need to be told twice. She ran over to the wheelchair, and grabbed a black bag, which had a yellow plastic case in it. She brought it back to them, kneeling and examining it, just as Logan exclaimed, "Cut in? Are you kidding?"
Original Cindy looked at him aghast from the corner of her eyes. He's got to be kidding, she thought. But Logan then handed the phone to her as he pulled out a pocketknife.
So much had happened that night, she wasn't really surprised to hear a mechanical voice haltingly say, "Do you have it?"
"Yeah, I got it," she responded, poking a green button and watching the defibrillator flicker on.
"What is the number on the indicator?"
She looked down at the display. "It says three hundred." She glanced over at Logan, just as he began to insert the knife below…a barcode?
"Okay, I got the end of it," Logan called over his shoulder.
Original Cindy repeated the message into the phone. "He says he feels the end of it."
"Tell him to leave the knife in, use it as a conductor, and place the paddles on her forehead and neck to deliver the shock," Sebastian instructed.
She gave the instructions to Logan. "We're supposed to leave the knife in, use it as a conductor, and zap it with these paddles. One on the forehead and one on her neck." As Logan took the cell phone from her, she couldn't help but say, "This is whack," before she handed one of the paddles to him, taking the other and holding it in place on Max's neck herself.
As soon as Logan was in position, he ordered, "Okay. Do it!"
Original Cindy poked a button, listened for the whine that signaled the charge, and clearly said, "Clear!" before she pressed the button that delivered the shock.
Max's body lifted in the air, seemingly livened by the electricity that poured through her system. After a pause, Logan set his paddle down and again touched Max's head. He caught the phone as it slid a bit, and his worried eyes examined her. "Seizure's stopped," he said into the phone. He felt her neck for a pulse, and then moved his hand to caress her face. "She's breathing normally," he sighed.
Original Cindy closed her eyes in relief, and smiled with Logan as he stroked Max's head. She let him have the moment for a few seconds, before beginning to think about their situation. "How we gonna get her out of here?" she asked him. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to be finding out if those boys have playmates."
Logan looked up at her, startled, as though he had forgotten she was there. "My car's outside, but…" he looked down at Max again. "It's not going to be easy to get her there. She's dead weight."
Original Cindy shook her head. "Uh, uh. She's live weight." At Logan's smile, she asked, "Want me to get your wheelchair, sugah?"
"Please."
Original Cindy walked over to where Logan's chair was, and rolled it over to him. She watched as he transferred into the chair, and then looked down at Max. "I guess it'd be best if you carried her. She's a bitty thing, but Original Cindy ain't no superwoman."
Logan nodded, and wheeled close to Max's side. Original Cindy gently rolled Max onto her back, put an arm around her shoulders, and carefully lifted her into a sitting position. Logan then put his arms under Max's, and together they awkwardly lifted her into his lap. He put one arm across Max's chest to anchor her in position while OC moved her legs directly over Logan's. She glanced at Logan's arm and looked up at him. "Don't go tryin' to feel up my girl while she's unconscious. Wait until she can enjoy it."
Even with only the flashlight illuminating the room, Original Cindy could see the scarlet flush rapidly move over Logan's face, and his arm quickly jerk back. At Original Cindy's throaty laugh, he glared at her. "That's not funny, Original Cindy."
"Original Cindy couldn't help it. She needed something to take her mind off the dead goons. You just happened to give her something convenient." Original Cindy and Logan carefully maneuvered around the various bits of rubble towards the door, stopping only so Logan could catch Max the few times she began sliding from his lap.
When they reached the Aztek, Logan looked at the driver's seat, and then looked at Cindy. "You'd better ride in back with her. You'll need to get in first, so you can help pull her up," he directed, locking his wheels.
Original Cindy quickly scrambled into the backseat, and leaned down, grabbing Max under the armpits. "1…2…3," she counted. She began to lift while Logan tried to push Max up the height into the car. Max stirred slightly and moaned softly as they struggled with her limp body. When they finally got her into the seat, Logan slammed the door shut, and Original Cindy scooted closer to Max, leaning the injured woman on her shoulder for support.
Logan transferred into the driver's seat, and disassembled the chair, handing the wheels and seat to Original Cindy, who set them in the very back. He started the car, and pulled away from Washington-Meridian. When they were on the road, he glanced in the rearview mirror at Original Cindy. "She doing okay?"
Original Cindy stroked an errant strand of hair away from Max's face, and reached down to her neck, checking her pulse. "She's still seems to be breathin' okay, and she's got a strong heartbeat."
Logan took a deep breath and let it out noisily. "Good. That's good." He turned his eyes back to the road.
"Logan…" Original Cindy began, but stopped.
He looked at her again, "Yeah?"
"Never mind."
He pulled up to a stop sign, put on the parking brake, and turned to look at her fully. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
She could tell by the look on Logan's face that he didn't believe her, but he released the parking brake anyway and continued to drive. "Maybe we'll have a chance to talk when we get back."
They were silent the rest of the way back to Logan's apartment building. They reversed the process of getting Max in the car, with no better results. Max whimpered softly as they finally set her back in Logan's lap, and he held her close, rocking her a bit as he tried to comfort her. When she finally settled, he released his grip, and began slowly pushing them into the building, with Original Cindy following closely.
Up in Logan's apartment, they laid Max on the sofa in the living room. Original Cindy sat her up a bit to remove Max's leather jacket. Logan pulled some pillows from the other end of the couch and carefully placed them under Max's head as Original Cindy laid her back down, turning it sideways to take some of the pressure off of her neck. Logan looked at the blood crusted underneath her eyes and turned to Original Cindy. "Would you please go to the bathroom and get a wet facecloth? I think Max would feel better when she wakes up if she can at least have a clean face."
"Not a problem, boo," she said, turning to go. She turned back to him, "Uh…"
He smiled and pointed to a door. "That door, off the kitchen."
Original Cindy walked into the bathroom, and automatically shut the door behind her. She barely blinked at the classiness of the room, only turned to the sink. She opened the cabinet underneath…and sat on the floor. She put her head in her hands and took a deep shuddering breath. What's happened to me tonight? To my world? I go to work to try to earn a paycheck, ending up trying to get myself killed, nearly get my best friend killed…and I got a feeling there's more to come. Original Cindy may have survived the inferno, but someone please help her with the flood that follows. She took another breath, reached into the cabinet, and pulled out a facecloth. Her hands shook as she wet it, and grabbed a second, dry towel on her way out.
Logan accepted the offered facecloth, and Original Cindy stepped back and moved closer to one of the room dividing screens as he began to gently wipe away the blood from Max's face. After he had finished underneath her eyes, he moved to the cut across one slim eyebrow. When Max flinched, he quickly pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open, and even from her position, Original Cindy could see that the whites were now a dull, ancient yellow color.
Logan smiled. "Hey. How do you feel?"
Max swallowed thickly and took a shallow breath. "Head…headache," she rasped.
Logan reached a hand over and stroked her face. "Why don't you close your eyes for a while? Try to sleep it off?"
Max's eyes had already closed as she murmured, "Okay." Her breathing evened out, and she was silent again.
Logan finished cleaning her face, turned away from Max, and nearly ran into Original Cindy. "I think Max will be out for a while. You're welcome to catch some sleep in the guest room, if you want."
Original Cindy shook her head. "Nah, I'm a little too revved from…well. Original Cindy was hoping she could raid your kitchen, make a pot of java, and puddle around a bit, if that's aiight with you."
Logan looked at Original Cindy's hands, which were still shaking. "I'm not sure it's 'aiight' for you to be knocking back any coffee right now, but go ahead, if that's what you think you need."
Original Cindy sighed and looked at the sleeping Max. "What I need is for her to talk to me, but for now, coffee will do." She pivoted towards the kitchen, but stopped and turned back. "You like her, don't you?" she asked, repeating the same question she'd had the first time she'd really met Logan.
"Who?" Logan recognized the question and replied with the same answer, smiling.
Original Cindy couldn't help but laugh, and felt some of the tension begin to drain from her body. "Max."
Logan's smile fell. He turned towards Max and exhaled softly. "Yeah. I do." He looked at Cindy again, and then gave his wheels a push, swiftly moving past her.
"S'what I thought," Original Cindy said to his retreating form. She found fresh coffee beans quickly enough in the massive kitchen, but took five minutes to find a grinder, and then another five to find the coffee maker. Still, even though it's easier to find things in Original Cindy's four-inch kitchen, she kinda could get used to this one. She had the coffee ground and brewing by the time Logan returned from whatever he had been doing. He nodded to her as he passed, but immediately resumed his place by Max's side, and waited.
The coffee finished brewing, the sun rose, and Original Cindy had finished half of a second pot of coffee. She had just finished pouring herself yet another cup of coffee, and was frustrated that her hands were still shaking, even hours later. The glass of the pot clinked against the glass of the mug, but she managed to at least not spill anything. She moved to the other island to see if she could get some sugar and cream to land in the coffee, when she heard Logan's voice again in the other room. She couldn't hear what he said, but her breath hitched a bit as she realized he wasn't talking to her. Max's voice rang out as a comforting confirmation, and Original Cindy strained to catch any of the words in their conversation.
Unable to understand what they were saying to each other, Original Cindy tried to calm her nerves. This was it. From here on out…
Max appeared at the edge of the kitchen. She was pale, and seemed a little unsteady on her feet. As she tentatively came closer, Original Cindy could see that her eyes had still not quite regained their normal color. Original Cindy frowned and set her coffee down on the counter. "Are you sure you should be movin' around, Max?" Max's name came out sharp and short, causing Max to flinch a little at the sound.
"I'm fine," she answered, her voice still a little rusty. "I…I think we need to talk."
Original Cindy nodded. "I think we do."
Max walked over to the worktable and leaned against it. She was silent for a moment before admitting, "I don't even know where to start."
Original Cindy eyed Max and crossed her arms. "Then define a word for me." She thought to what Johannessen had called Max. "Transgenic."
Max paled even further at the word, and closed her eyes for a moment. "A transgenic…" she hesitated, not wanting to continue.
Original Cindy stayed silent and waited.
"Transgenic is…having DNA made of two or more creatures. It's…me."
Original Cindy straightened, and looked directly into Max's eyes, not completely understanding. "I'm not following. What d'ya mean it's you?"
Max swallowed and pushed forward. "My DNA…isn't just human. It's also got a little feline DNA, maybe some other random things."
Original Cindy continued to stare, unable to speak.
"Why?" Max asked herself. "They wanted to make a race of soldiers. Unstoppable killing machines. Us. Me and the others like me. We were born only for their purpose and really were never supposed to be human at all." Max's eyes turned flat, and distant, as she focused at some point over Original Cindy's shoulder. Her next words were hesitant, but as she continued, they began to rush forward, turning and tumbling over each other like a river.
She first spoke of a little of the science: fabricated DNA sequences with additional code that had been templated from various animal sources, use of cloning technology to produce an embryo, implantation into surrogates. But the science soon delved into the reality, and Max spoke of a life of being told what to do, of being someone else's property. Forced marches. Hours and hours of ruthless training. Children beaten down and killed. Of the violent seizures that spawned an escape into an unknown life. Then spending that life running, and living every day afraid of being sent back to the old life.
Original Cindy could tell that Max wasn't telling her everything, but seeing the pain flash into the woman's eyes as she deftly avoided further explanation of some of her comments was enough to keep OC silent. Finally, Max seemed to run out of words, and her voice simply drifted off. Original Cindy reached a steady hand down to pick up her coffee, and looked down at it before bringing it to her lips.
The few seconds of silence seemed to be too much for Max, because she blurted out, "Say something."
"What am I s'posed to say?" Original Cindy's head was reeling from the story. "My homegirl tells me she's not even human." And that was the hardest part to get her mind wrapped around.
"Mostly human," Max tried to joke.
Original Cindy looked down at her coffee again. The joke hadn't really helped matters any.
"I thought about telling you a million times, but…I was afraid to," Max admitted.
That stung Original Cindy's soul. Max…afraid of her. Bitterly, Original Cindy asked, "What? You didn't think you could trust me?"
Max's eyes softened, and saddened as she started to explain. "When you and me hooked up…it was like all of a sudden there was this part of my life where I didn't have to be hiding, or…fighting…or anything else, except…trying to make a livin' and kickin' it with my homegirl…" She paused, and looked deep into Original Cindy's eyes. "I never had that before. A friend….I was scared that if I told you what was up, it would all change…and that you would look at me like you are right now…like I was some kind of freak you didn't even recognize."
Original Cindy was surprised to hear the tears in Max's voice…as surprised to hear Max put her own feelings into words. It was true. She was feeling like she didn't even recognize Max, and was desperate to find some hint of the person…person… she had known. She finally broke the look and glanced off to the side, shaking her head. "Damn. All this time, I never knew."
Max's voice was hesitant as she asked, "Is this gonna change things?"
Original Cindy could only tell her the truth. "No doubt. No doubt. There's some issues here Original Cindy's gotta think on." She lifted her coffee and took another drink, and as she lowered it, she looked up, and saw…
Tears.
Original Cindy had never seen Max cry before. Suddenly, her head and her heart and her very soul seemed to clear, and she was able to see the friend she had known before this whole mess started. The one who was more human than anybody she had ever met. She set down her coffee, hopped off the counter she was sitting on, and held out her arms.
Max quickly walked over and hugged her tightly. Original Cindy put one hand behind Max's head to hold her close as tears began to fall from her own eyes. They quickly pulled back, and Max sniffed a little. Original Cindy looked directly at Max, and began to speak her own truth. "You coulda died puttin' that bitch in your head. But you did it anyway to get my back. You're my boo." She watched as Max smiled. "For life," she added, and Max laughed. "No matter what," she finished, offering Max a smile of her own. "Now let me see this barcode of yours." Max turned around, and Original Cindy brushed her hair to the side. There it was, a large black barcode – a symbol of ownership. Underneath, was a small raised spot, with a cut underneath – a symbol of life, and of friendship. "Sugar, that's kinda hot, aiight?" she told Max. Both of them began to laugh at the thought.
When their laughter died down, Original Cindy grew serious again. "I'd thought I'd lost you, had been losing you. There was so much going on and you wouldn't, couldn't, tell me anything. I want you to know that you don't have to worry about that anymore. It's just you and me left, boo."
"And that's enough," Max whispered.
Original Cindy heard a small noise, and looked over her shoulder. Logan was at the edge of the kitchen, looking mildly worried. Original Cindy smiled and looked back at Max. "Well, maybe it's not just you and me. That cool?"
Max looked at Logan and smiled. "That's cool. He makes some mean pasta."
"You should try it some time," Logan added, glad that things seemed to be going well.
Original Cindy just shook her head. "It ain't gonna be today, sugah. Original Cindy needs to bomb home and take a shower. She feels like she's been muckin' around in somethin' totally bad ass."
Max just cracked up while Logan shook his head. "You're welcome to take a shower here if you want. Plenty of hot water."
"Thanks for the offer, but now that I know Sleeping Beauty here is up and about on her feet, it's time for me to be going." Original Cindy rolled her eyes. "I think blowin' up my office means I gotta go hunting for a new job. I want to clean up a little first."
"See ya later?" Max asked.
Original Cindy looked at both of them. "Yeah. Be good while I'm gone," she said before she walked out the main door, and headed towards home.
A/N: "An' I will not carry myself down to die. When I go to my grave, my head will be high," is from Bob Dylan's "Let Me Die in My Footsteps".
Images - Epilogue
Coming September 5
