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MonsterSlut here with the awesome Stormrunner74 and your next update.
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Chapter Three
Luke woke up covered in drool and with a massive headache. His adorable, but wimpy, German Shepherd puppy, Ajax, was lying on his chest. Luke groaned and rolled over, dumping Ajax on the bed, but suddenly a bang from upstairs made him jump out of bed, fully awake, despite the massive head ache he was suffering. Ajax whimpered and fled under the bed. The bang had come from his upstairs neighbors, the Carters. They were always arguing, fighting, knocking things over, and generally irritating the whole building.
Luke grabbed one of his black combat boots from beside his bed and tossed it up and down in his hand, testing the weight. Suddenly, another crash came from upstairs, followed by muffled yelling that Luke couldn't quite make out. He hurled the boot at the ceiling. The yelling immediately ceased.
Luke couldn't remember much from last night after he started drinking. He remembered a pair of muggers right outside the apartment building, as well as a very annoying reporter with a blog. Bella Jones from the RealTruth conspiracy theory blog, he thought it was. He walked over to his desk, and pulled out the chair, before sitting down and looking up the RealTruth conspiracy theory blog.
The first thing he learned, is that it was the RawTruth by Bekka James. The second thing he learned is that when she pestered him last night, she had filmed it for a podcast, and asked her viewers for help annoying him for information on- on...Grace. The blog was full of things like crop circles, superheroes, urban legends, government cover-ups like Grace's death and the Kennedy Assassination theory, as well as cold cases with impossible factors, like the Carter Orchard Farm murders where two unnamed people were killed, one was torn in half, and the other's neck was snapped.
Luke glanced at his alarm clock. It read 4:02 AM. There's still time for his run. He got up and walked over to his dresser. He slipped out of his sweatpants and t-shirt, and threw on a pair of shorts as well as a Navy t-shirt. He put food and water in Ajax's bowls as he walked out the door of his apartment. He laced up a pair of tennis shoes in the elevator, and walked out the main door of the lobby. As soon as he was on the sidewalk, he took off. The early morning fog was still hanging over the city a little bit, and at this hour, the city was silent. This was Luke's favorite time of day. At this time he could almost forget- No, don't think about that. Never try to think about that.
Luke ran down the street, his headache still at the back of his mind. Around the two mile mark, his head began pounding, but he pushed through the pain and increased his pace. Around the four mile mark his legs started to scream in pain, but he kept going. At the five mile mark he stopped, right outside Noonan's. Noonan's was the coffee shop that sold the most amazing sticky buns Luke could ever find. And it was exactly five miles from his home. Every day he ran there in the morning to pick up two sticky buns. Then he would run up 74th Street, and take a left on 2nd Avenue, before taking a left on 97th Street, and running back to 3rd Avenue, taking a right until he got to his apartment building.
Luke walked into Noonan's and smiled, as the delicious smell of coffee and pastries rolled over him. Despite the fact that he hated coffee, he loved the smell of it, and Noonan's coffee, like their sticky buns, was the best, at least according to Seth. Seth was addicted to coffee. So was Gra- No, don't think about that. Never try to think about that.
An African American woman, named Patricia, though she insisted on being called Patty, who had worked at Noonan's as long as Luke could remember, greeted him.
"Morning, Luke. The usual?" she questioned him.
"Yep. Thanks, Patty," he replied with a smile.
"How do you eat those every day, and not gain weight? I swear, you and Kara, you two have to be aliens to do that," she said, smiling.
"Patty, I run five miles here, and six miles back, just for a pair of sticky buns. I lose weight doing that. I'm sure that Kara, whoever she is, does the same," he told her.
"No, she doesn't. She walks every day."
Luke shrugged. "Thanks, Patty. Be round tomorrow at the same time."
She waved him off and went to serve another customer.
Luke headed out the door, bumping into a blonde woman wearing glasses and simple clothes, with her hair in a ponytail, on her way in. He apologised to her and she just glared at him. Muttering under his breath, Luke made sure his sticky buns were safe before starting the six mile run back to his apartment building. On the way back, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to Bekka James and her confrontational questions at the bar last night. How on earth did she get a hold of the autopsy reports on not one but all three of his squad mates? The girl looked like she could barely function without a keeper let alone get a hold of private military files.
Realistically it had been a long time since Gra-since his friends had been killed by a crazed madman but it still felt like yesterday he'd lost them.
Luke forced his mind away from any and all thoughts of his odd stalker and her topic of discussion. In his head he listed the things he had to do at work today. Lord Technologies was finally rebuilding a building they'd lost five years ago to a fire. He could remember the quarantine techs going in and out of the building for over a year before finally the building was knocked down. The company Luke worked for had won the contract to build some new skyscraper.
He came around the corner in time to see the preschooler, Bekka James waiting outside his apartment, sitting on the top of a car with a bottle of blue gatorade in her lap and a smile on her face. She was wearing a blue dress with yellow and pink hummingbirds with a yellow pair of leggings and pink ballet flats. In Luke's opinion, it was the single most ridiculous outfit he'd ever seen someone wear in his life. And to top it all off, her hair was in the Princess Leia bun-style and she was wearing hummingbird earrings with a matching necklace.
"Do you dress like that just to get attention?" Luke asked her. "Or you not weird enough?"
Bekka raised an eyebrow. "I understand blue gatorade is your favourite?"
Luke's eyebrow twitched. "Excuse me?"
"I was looking back into some of your old high school records." She slid off the car and hit the ground like a cat. "Found an email begging Grace to get some blue gatorade for you after practice, since you were dying of thirst, and that it was your favorite. Your doorman also said that you have one after your run every morning."
It usually took a lot to annoy Luke, but knowing this little girl was digging around his life like that really pissed him off. "Excuse me?"
"Care to answer some questions over some gatorade?"
"What gives you the right?" Luke snapped. "Digging into people's private lives like they were your own private playground? What gives you the right to advertise private, emotional factors all over your crappy website?"
"The people have a right to know," Bekka replied. "Private black ops missions sanctioned by the government where American's die shouldn't be swept under the rug. There was a strange chemical in Grace's blood and your blood test results just conveniently went missing." Luke turned around and entered the main lobby, and walked over to his mailbox. Normally it had only a few bills and ads, but today it was crammed full of letters. He yanked them all out and flipped through them.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped at her.
"Doing what?" she replied, innocently.
"You know perfectly damn well, what. I read some of your blog this morning, including a podcast, where you asked your little preschool stalker friends to send me mail. I suppose these aren't your followers, huh?" Luke grabbed a few letters, and threw them on the ground, "Your friend, your friend, your friend, your friend, another, friend, your friend. Oh, what's this. Another one of your friends. Oh yeah, remember that article about how I don't get veteran benefits? Guess what this is?" He held up a letter from the United States Department of Veteran's Affairs. Inside, he knew, there was a check for $836.13.
"A veteran's check," Bekka replied dully.
"Exactly!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. He then turned and walked towards the elevator. Bekka followed, close on his heels.
"My article was simply about the fact that with all the money they still can't seem to help the masses of homeless or mentally disturbed soldiers on the streets or in their own homes. Guess a grunt like you can't read properly, huh?" Bekka sneered at him.
Luke was finding it harder and harder not to get into some kind of fight with her. As a SEAL he had a rule against hitting women, but she wasn't making it easy.
"So, gatorade and answers?" Bekka asked, examining her nails as the door opened.
"No!" Luke exploded, before exiting the elevator and storming towards his apartment.
"Oh come on. Please?" Bekka asked.
"Would you just buzz off?" He pushed open the door to his apartment and went to close it, but Bekka managed to lodge her foot in the doorway and braced her hands on the door. She was strong for someone so tiny, but Luke managed to get her foot out of the doorway. "I'm warning you, I'll call the police."
Bekka raised an eyebrow as he slammed his door shut in her face. After a moment, he opened the door and snatched the gatorade from Bekka.
"Thanks," he growled out, before he slammed the door in her face again. Luke walked into his bedroom and changed into his work clothes. He threw on olive green cargo pants, a grey t-shirt, his steel toed work boots, and a National City Sharks cap. He pat Ajax on the head and walked back towards the door. However, his hand hovered over the doorknob, as his instincts screamed not too. He looked through the peephole, and there was Bekka, waiting for him. He stepped away from the door and back into the kitchen, formulating a plan. He walked over to the kitchen window, opened it, and climbed onto the fire escape.
From there he climbed down the fire escape, and walked around the building, and across the street to the garage for the apartment building he lived in. He walked over to his motorcycle. A Harley Davidson Street 750. He had saved up since high school to buy a nice motorcycle, and last year he had gotten enough. He climbed on and started the engine. It roared to life, and he pulled out of the garage. He weaved through traffic, heading uptown towards the site of the new tower. The foundation had already been laid, and the beginnings of the structure were being set. Now Luke and some of his co-workers had to start welding on support beams.
Luke arrived and parked his bike. He walked over to a check-in list and signed in, before reporting to Greg Johnson, his boss and friend.
"Hey Luke," Greg said.
"Hey. What's my job?" Luke asked.
"Before you and the guys start welding, I need you guys to inspect the concrete for flaws. I need to know if it's ready to support weight," Greg said pointing at him, and three other guys.
-XXX-
In the basement, Luke was inspecting the giant slabs of concrete that lined the sides, when he saw something out of place. A small, green, marble sized piece of glass-like material was lodged in the concrete. He pulled out a chisel and hit the concrete around it. It gave way after a little coaxing, and the green glass fell out, and into Luke's waiting palm. What had looked like a marble was actually a sliver about two inches long of a clear green gem. It was almost like an emerald. Luke gasped as the material began to heat up in his palm, before it exploded into a fine green dust, blowing Luke back twenty feet, and onto the ground.
He landed funny on his right arm, and he hit his head. His vision swam, and he looked up at the sky, lying on his back. Greg came into view, and Luke passed out, his eyes rolling into his head.
-XXX-
Luke came to inside a hospital bed. His right forearm was bandaged, and his left middle finger had something reading his pulse. A man dressed in scrubs was standing at the end of his bed.
The middle-aged man, a nurse Luke realized, standing at the foot of the bed gasped a little as the muscular man moved. "Mr. Morrison?" He took a few steps backwards and opened the door, "Doctor Kratz! Mr. Morrison is awake."
Doctor Kratz was certainly not what Luke expected when the door opened a second time. As he struggled to sit up, a woman about four feet tall with thick rimmed glasses came over to him. "Put that head back on that pillow Mr. Morrison or I'll strap you to that bloody bed."
"She's not kidding," the nurse muttered. Luke sighed and laid back down.
"Enough out of you, Garth," Doctor Kratz warned him, a smile on her face. "Care to tell me why you decided to go toe-to-toe with a pile of cinder blocks?"
"What?" Luke frowned. He rubbed his head and glanced at the serious, little woman.
She pursed her lips. "Whatever happened, you're a very lucky man." She took the clipboard off the end of his bed and flipped a few pages over. "I've had construction workers come in with broken bones, ruptured organs, missing limbs and they bring you in with a broken right forearm that's not actually broken in the first place."
"What?" Luke asked, now utterly confused.
"Those bloody idiots they call 'paramedics' reported you having a broken arm. It's just badly bruised."
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Garth here is going to take your blood pressure and vitals just to be on the safe side than you can go home. Make sure you take care of you insurance up the front."
The good doctor placed the clipboard back at the foot of the bed and turned to leave. When she opened the door, Luke could see Bekka sitting in the corridor, her fingers practically flying across the surface of an iPad. "Miss. James!"
Luke smirked a little as Bekka practically jumped out of the seat she was sitting in. He and Garth looked at each other just as the door closed and the doctor started shouting at the blogger.
"I've warned you, you little viper! Get out! Now! So help me god I'll put my foot so far up your annoying little ass you'll need a doctor."
"Okay, jeez."
The doctor opened the door and winked at Luke. "Take the service entrance out. Tell 'em Francine sent you."
"Thanks," Luke said, standing up.
His clothes were in a bag on a chair underneath the window, Luke grabbed them and made his way to the bathroom, muttering under his breath. He slipped into his clothes and came out. The bandages on his arm prevented his jacket from fitting, so Luke elected to leave it off.
"We'll send you the paperwork," Garth told him. "That blonde's being hanging out since you got here. Figure you don't need her on your ass."
"Thank you."
"Stalker ex-girlfriend?"
Luke snorted. "Good God no."
"Hey man, we've all been there before." He pat Luke on the shoulder. "Good luck."
Luke stuck his head out the door. There was no Bekka in sight so he left the room to mingle in with the small crowds in the hall. On the roof Luke spied a sign that showed him to the service entrance. A couple of orderlies looked at him strangely like he wasn't supposed to be there.
"Think you took a wrong turn, buddy."
"Uh-Francine sent me?"
One of the orderlies elbowed another. "Frankie sent him. Down the hall, third right, second left and the elevator is at the end of the hall. Pin's 7119."
Luke nodded his thanks. He moved passed them and made his way down the hall, following the instructions as he went. Only when the afternoon sun hit his face, did Luke let a sigh of relief escape him. All he wanted to do was go home, sit with Ajax and have a couple of drinks.