Chapter Seven: Disbelief
6 years later. Who are you?
Cara was sitting on the couch, her mouth in that cute demure, puckered slightly to the side with her eyebrows together in her thinking.
"Dave," she began with a sigh.
There was a loud crunch and she looked up crossly at two men in the kitchen. One of them was eating from the cornflake box as the other leaned from the front of the counter.
"Would you mind?" she said crossly to the older one who's gotten his hand in the box.
"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly.
Cara breathed in then turned to look back at him. "Dave," she said his name again.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his chest continued tightening at the fact the ring laid bare between them, ignored by her.
"I need to tell you something," she confessed softly.
He wondered what she wanted, wondered what she was going to say next, hoping to put the voices down in his head.
It's a no, isn't it?
Maybe it was something else, he hoped. Jesus. He clenched his hands, clammy and nervous as the sinking pit grew in him.
"We need to tell you something." Dave looked up at another voice, coming from the man leaning at the front of the counter, cold blue eyes boring into him. Chase had never once given a friendly look, besides the glowering neutral stare. Always gauging his reactions. Always reading.
"I've been keeping something back," Cara told him quietly.
"We've all been," the older man with the box added. "Half-truth."
Taken aback, he blinked at this. "What's this about?" This was going out of the chart, far from the shores… of his question.
Part of him didn't know what to feel about this, another was just relieved. It was something to do about all of them, not… about her… choice.
"We'll take this one at a time," Cara murmured, her face still anxious and concerned. "Promise me, Dave, that you'll sit through it all. Don't panic. Don't do anything you won't regret, don't make me regret telling you."
Okay… he looked at her strangely. "Cara, you're starting to worry me."
"This is important, Dave. Cause if you…" she inhaled then glanced briefly at the two men, green eyes just gave the thumbs up. The other just flicked his eyes in encouragement, his expression softened at her gaze. Cara shifted uncomfortably on the couch across him. "Look, we're wanted fugitives," she blurted.
"What - what do you mean by this?" Dave muttered in surprise.
"We're wanted fugitives," Cara repeated. "My real name is… Dana. Dana A. Mercer. Cara Kendrick is a fake identity I use," she confessed.
Dana… A. Mercer? That name was ringing bells.
"Are you illegal immigrants?" That was the last thing he expected from Cara. He breathed in, already feeling the slight stirring of a headache. She kept this from him, all this time?
He knew she likes to dye her hair platinum blonde and all, and often wore green eye contact lens when going out. She made excuse how her blue piercing eyes give the heebie-jeebies. He thought her natural ones were pretty, but considering Chase shared those blue eyes. When looking at her brother, yeah, he felt the jeebies but never thought it was just her… avoiding being identified.
"No, no, Dave," Cara shook her head. "Born and bred in the USA," she huffed in amusement at that. "The thing is… we're all wanted fugitives because…" she grimaced, her lips tighten into a line. "Because...we all carry a property," she continued hesitatingly, "belonging to a military group in the United States Army."
He opened his mouth.
"In our blood," Cara added before he could croak out his words, "we carry a virus. A biological weapon developed by that group. Each one of us… carry strains."
Dave's mouth was widening.
"We're all technically assets," Chase cut in briskly. "Basically, biological hazards. All of us... being part of the virus, means being in their list."
"W-wait," Dave called out quickly before they all could fall off the ship, hand pressed down onto the sofa cushions to steady. "When you say you carry… biological weapons in your blood, w-what do you mean?"
"We carry the children strains of the same virus that rampaged Manhattan in 2008," Patrick added. "Well they at least," he pointed his two younger siblings. "I had… the older strain. The same virus in the end just hasn't been given 40 years of catatonic state aided development," he added drily.
That wasn't making him feel better. Everyone knew the virus that swept Manhattan was a biological weapon that had killed millions, and they carried it inside them? Th-that just didn't make sense.
Dave just stared.
The Outbreak. Manhattan taught The USA and the rest of the world to be more self-conscious on sickness and diseases, especially viruses. Health and hygiene protocol became stingy as fuck at the hospital he worked at. Dave sucked in at this. "Explain, just explain," he demanded quietly.
Mass international panic, heavy regulation on vaccination and virotherapy. Protest on the studies on virology, especially for biological defense, be it for war or against common disease.
All of them remained quiet at this, glancing at each other.
"A…" Dave struggled, maybe he was overblowing it or something. "Did all of you smuggle out during the quarantine or something? You couldn't get a clearance."
Cara grimaced. "Something like that… but it's more complicated."
"Dave," Pat sighed heavily and gave him a pitying look. "We're aliens," the older man popped the bubble.
What, he screwed his thoughts, matching the face he was putting on.
"Gordon, that's a horrible joke. I can see through the bullshit," Dave snapped.
Pat just looked at him grimly "I knew you will say that." He gave a heavy exhale, a tired look on his face. "I'll sketch it out to you. Crazy bunch of mad scientists got together, called the great old one, aaaaaand things happened to our mom," Patrick spilled it with a complete straight face. "We're Cthulhu's juniors, Dave."
Somewhere at the edge of the universe, both Chase and Cara rolled their eyes at this.
"Okay, I know you're fucking with me right now," Dave retorted.
"Nope," Patrick shook his head. "The virus is actually the alien's DNA. They experimented, combined the virus with a human's DNA… technically gave genetic materials for it form back. Human's DNA is just mere food, a means for it to reprogram and remake itself. So here I am, reborn, anew in a human form. I hid. Then shit happened. The last remains of the original, my mother, our mother escaped the lab. The Outbreak bloomed and here they are." He pointed at Chase and Cara.
"You're being serious about this, are you?" Dave gaped.
Holy fuck, h-how… what… he didn't know Cara was into this shit?! He should have noticed her family were those bunch who believe it was the aliens that caused the Outbreak. Well, the awkward bunch at least, he guessed considering the uncomfortable spot he was in. Now, now they were trying to convert him?
"It… we, the DNA came from a spaceship, born here though," Pat continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "Technically, we're wearing a dead body."
"I'm not falling for it." Dave would not be fooled.
"Look, here…" Pat walked around the counter and stood beside Chase who looked at him suspiciously. "I'll prove it to you," he added.
Pat looked at Chase and asked the pale man, "May I borrow you?"
"What are you planning?" Chase asked, eyes narrowing.
"Oh nothing much." Pat shrugged then shove his hand into Chase's chest suddenly.
Dave wheezed in violently when Pat roughly ripped out a squirming black-red worm-tentacle-tendril… thing out of Chase's chest. It was wriggling, wriggling violently as he heard the sound of squelch and slimy flesh slapping against hand. H.R Giger's Aliens action right there…
How. Is. That… Possible? Dave's thoughts were lost to the other side of the universe.
"PAT!" Cara screamed. "That IS NOT what we AGREED TO!"
"Actually…" a whisper crawled out from him, slightly in awe though on the edge to squeaking. "That's a good trick right there. Almost got me." His voice was quiet and begged to differ.
Gordon looked at him with both raised eyebrows, impressed. "Ah what does it matter? If you've seen the darkest pits of the internet, then this- " He waved the wriggling tendril in his hand. "-is probably nothing. Though kinda makes you paranoid if a bunch these-" The tendril swiped the air, trying to escape when he gestured by jerking it at his direction. "-little buggers were in you."
Then a thoughtful look crossed his face, "You're an EMT, right?"
Dave nodded his head vigorously.
"Hah," Gordon breathed. "Would explain how you're keeping awfully calm. The human body is the most disgusting thing out there if given the chance. Dealt with shit similar to this in your career, right?" He waved the wiggling, slapping black tendril that was still swiping around in his hand.
Dave nodded quietly again, but compared to other dire situation in saving lives of occasional ODs and negligent patients that cared nothing about their health, and then there were the unlucky fellas that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time — their situation could be diagnosed, explained. In his mind, no medical history, textbook, weird stories from his colleague nor experience as Assistant Physician and Emergency Medical Technician could explain that thing in Gordon's hand.
What is that thing?
With an angry glare, Chase snatched back the black-red tentacle, and his form immediately flickered, unforming into tendrils then back to an immaculate figure. Tendril joined back into the swarms of more tendrils.
The ship broke, and he was sinking.
WHAT THE FUCK!
"Bee here," Pat continued on, ignoring his gawping face when he pointed at Cara.
In embarrassment and frustration, she decided to hide her face behind her hands.
"She's part alien seductrehkt!" He choked sharply at the last bit when Chase suddenly grabbed and throttled him.
"Would you stop!" Cara cried. "First time was bad enough, the second time," she groaned in frustration as the two men were struggling in the kitchen.
He just saw fucking tentacle actions… a-and… Cara. Her… what.. it… what? What does it make her, what does it mean? What did Gordon mean?!
"What was that thing?" Dave finally asked shakily, a grin crept up his face, or more like his way of grimace, lower lips baring his teeth.
"That thing… was me, part of me," Chase growled as he head-locked Gordon.
B-but, if that thing was him, Dave frowned… would it mean Cara was also made of that thing? Cause, after all, siblings shared traits.
He turned around slowly and stared at Cara with an opened mouth. A fly could have crawled in there.
He made love to this woman, and some of those moments… well, being with her made him learn that he had a bit of masochistic side. Never was into a lot of kinky shit, but damn, Cara wanted to try and he was opened minded. He realized now, it was actually her avoiding any ways of hurting his… health. The virus could get transmitted, but that was not all. First time they did have conventional sex, it was cut short in the heat of the moment. He had gotten his ribs broken in passion, bled from her bite mark, and had to get patched. Nothing a first-day kit and a brace couldn't fix though.
Hell, Cara was… feral when he got down to it. She was strong, she was insanely strong when she got emotional, and frightening.
And Dave was crazy enough to actually like it.
Now he couldn't help but compare her to a stupid xenophilic's wet dream of a movie. Fuck. No, not compare. She was a xenophilic's wet dream… if he counted those alien DNA in her.
And he actually… he stared at Cara, who was still hiding her face... still liked her.
In the horrible dirty corner of his human mind, there whispered a voice singing the words… she's a cute outer-space babe...
"She wants your babehs to make some tumor goo kids," Pat teased before being squeezed even more tightly around the throat.
...who just wants to copulate, and when she doesn't get her way…
"Fuck you, Pat," Cara grumbled.
...boy, does she get angry!
Dave just stared, still with that opened mouth of his.
"O-k… Zoo-" Pat choked as Chase locked him under his arm with a very determined face to shut him up. "T-tooTight!" Pat strangled and slapped the arm repeatedly.
"Is this true?" he whispered so quietly. Just a prank. Just a fucking prank. He was sure of it, was so sure of it. They were all in this. He was reminded of the time when his colleagues gave him the worst case of Code Brown at the hospital.
And if, a big IF here, if it was true, he'd be having aliens for in-laws! Actually, that didn't sound too bad, until the image of a certain black tendril bursting out of his chest cut in.
"No, it's not!" Chase hissed viciously as he squeezed Pat tightly. "All the alien bullshit at least."
Oh… Dave's expression froze, his shoulders sagging.
Seriously… they were doing this on the day he proposed… to Cara? What kind of fucking jerks were they?
Couldn't help but still feel the rush of disappointment somehow at that. Aliens for in-law. Jesus, it was like something from the sitcoms in the 90's.
He looked up then watched, concerned at the two men in the kitchen… especially one that looked like he was literally going to be choked to death. Gordon gritted his teeth and wheezed violently as he struggled against the arm that was pressed against his throat.
"Uh hey, Chase," he called out weakly only to get vehement glare from the man himself. He cringed slightly from that reply. "I don't think he looks good," he commented as Gordon tried to wrestle in his head-locked position.
"Zoo! LetMeGo!" Pat choked and struggled half-heartedly.
"Not unless you promised to shut up!" Chase spat as he tightened the lock arm around his neck.
"I prometh!"
A loud snap, Chase twisted the neck sharply.
Dave froze, and his eyes widened. D-did… holy shit… did...did Chase just...
Ignoring the face he was receiving, Chase let go. With a shove, Patrick crashed onto the floor.
Did he just… did he… ho-ho-holy crap… Dave breathed rapidly as he watched at the still dead body on the floor, torn at rushing towards the body and reacting to his EMT's instinct.
Chase just broke his brother's neck, echoed his mind, keeping him frozen. So casually, just so casually Chase twisted the neck. For all he knew, Gordon could be dead. Nothing wrong there, just casual murder. Dave just stared.
A sound crept up into his ears.
Small, muffled by layers of muscles… like bones clacking against another while being shifted beneath the skin. A loud raspy laugh came from the body on the floor… its shoulders shaking.
What?
...another fucking joke?
How… how was he still alive and moving perfectly?! How?! It didn't look like he was pretending at all, considering Gordon's red face showed symptoms of literally being choked!
At that point, Dave stood up.
"Just let me go out and have a smoke," he whispered hoarsely.
"Dave," Cara called and looked at him worriedly when he marched toward the window... then climbed up on top the sill.
"Dave!" all three voices called out to him at once.
Dave sat there calmly. One hand unconsciously pressed to his chest, feeling the wriggling… or actually his heart trying to burst out of his chest.
Little buggers, maybe those things were in him.
"You're a fucking asshole!" Cara yelled at the laughing man. "Now I can see why Mandy divorced your ass!"
"Says the woman who makes cannibal and hentai jokes," pointed out the dead man at the kitchen, cooking so… casually despite what happened before.
Cara zipped her mouth and made strangling noise.
"Y'know Dave, I'm quite appalled at the fact you didn't catch the Species joke in there," Gordon continued, smiling.
"So it was a joke?!" Dave hissed. "But the tentacle-" Gordon getting his fucking neck twisted, broken!
"That was real, I'm afraid," Chase grumbled grouchily.
Dave froze.
"To be serious, we're not human, but we're not aliens," Gordon told him as the food hissed and steamed on the pan while he stirred. "Well he and I, at least." He pointed at Chase with a spatula. "Y'know how test tube babies exist and all. We're kinda similar… sort of," he added with a frown. "More involving experiments and viruses, military gain not for rich couples. Though the results they got are purely accidental… or more than they expected," he added brightly.
"H-hang on!" Dave snapped. "Is this another joke?!"
"No," Cara butt in. "This is real. Ignore the alien bullshit," she hissed the last part acidly with killler look that zapped Gordon. Gordon pretended to duck it.
"Our own DNA has changed so much we can't count… as human," Chase explained slowly with reluctance lacing. "And no, we didn't come from outer space. Just fucked up science and freaky nature moments brought us here," he said the last part almost laconically.
"Okay. You guys, I know you are just screwing with me," Dave snapped viciously. "You had your fun-"
Something slapped on top of the table, right by the ring.
He looked down… on a book with stuffed files in between the pages, and a laptop. He'd seen this book before. Articles about diseases, sickness, past history of epidemics. The Outbreak being the most collected.
"That's all the proof. You can look over it later," Cara said hoarsely, noticing confusion and only confusion on his face. "So much for a fucking logical talk," she hissed between her teeth.
"W-wait!" Dave held his arms up. "You are serious?" He looked at each of them.
"Yes, yes, we are," Cara answered flatly, no-joke look on her face. "The alien story is bullshit, but the virus… far from it."
What… how…
"I… I don't understand." Dave sat down and pressed his mouth against the back of his hand, staring hard.
"I'm a carrier, Dave. Asymptomatic, latent," Cara confessed. "In my cells, I carry the genetics of viruses, not a virus, but viruses that have yet to manifest. They're few outside, but none are doing anything violent. Technically, I carry three unique strains… well now two, I think," she added thoughtfully. "But I will tell you what I was infected with, all of them. A special strain of one that destroyed most of Manhattan's population; the other what Penn Station had, the cure and as well original versions; the last… a fusion made out of both, recreated and changed."
"But it's not contagious," Cara added quickly.
He stared at the book on the table for a long time, comprehending its presence right by the ring.
"I…" Dave grimaced and clutched his face. "I... know," he said quietly but was still frowning. He was thinking, disease was what he had to work against at his job. But this... he inhaled. Asymptomatic and latent… it means the virus is dormant, the former interprets that it appears to behave as if it was from the patient's lack of symptom; the latter means it is. Whether the virus was contagious and the patient infectious depended on what he was up against, and sometimes nothing to do with the patient's current state and, or the virus'.
He remembered the killer virus that had rampaged Manhattan.
What he knew though, was clear. It was lethal. It worked fast. He should've died if it was that infectious and as violent media and articles painted it to be. But did it mean he was clean? Cara mentioned she had a different strain. Different strains make all the difference there is to readjust assumption from yes, he was not clean to maybe.
The only way he could assure himself was to scan his own blood.
"I would've died from being with you," he told her quietly, assuring the worry on her face. "But…" A heavy frown was on his face as he looked. This was no simple HIV patient or any cases similar to it, particularly on the symptoms and the virus behavior. If he remembered the articles he read up regarding Blacklight virus, the level of mutation people went through had made nuclear radiation look like nothing.
And that was it… he did not know enough about the virus, this virus.
"How am I-" He grimaced, pausing. "How are you-"
"Not dead? Or not human?" Chase cut in gravely. "When it has killed a lot?" he continued, watching his face.
Not human… yeah, that. That was the one throwing him off especially. The way they described it, DNA did not work like that, but then he didn't know much about the virus. Or anything to do with it.
He looked at them, maybe they were crazy but they looked too level-headed. But if his years with Cara taught him anything, was that those two didn't give a jack shit to his different opinions.
"It was a virus built for genetically engineered super soldiers, as well as mass genocide," he grumbled.
Dave sputtered.
"Don't ask the logic behind making a genocide virus into a genetic engineering one," he replied to his silent thought before briefly explaining, "It was mostly favored because of its high-level mutation rate and adaptation. The results it gave when tested on animals helped as well," he added.
"It's a mother virus, capable of producing many children strains without struggle; basically, a super virus. And that meant a likelier chance to produce a strain that would give them what they want," Chase told him.
"A simple version of how it works," he drawled, "The virus assimilated into its host; spliced, mutated, changed the genome so much, both it and its host became something… different."
Different, Dave looked at Chase then recalled the tentacles. Was that what he meant being different?
"The lucky chance though was what it changed being something and not some tumor mess," Chase shrugged. "It's a reason why we're not human anymore. Too different, biologically… mentally," he recalled slowly then he gazed turn to Cara. "Except for Dana."
Cara kept quiet as the sunken expression remained on her face.
"She's still human. Most of her DNA at least," he said. "Even the mutated ones. She's… just merely a chimera..."
"A mosaic, and a hybrid, however butchering it is on the accurate usage of the term," added Gordon. "Her cells, body even. Completely assimilated the virus and its genetics, it has become part of her. You should know how virus works Dave..." Patrick frowned. "Refresh on your junk DNA in your biology textbook. It would help also."
"Not this one," Dave cut in. "This… this!" He struggled, trying to wrap his head around.
"You will understand once you read it," Patrick jerked his chin to the thick folder on the table.
"Some infections aren't contagious even in clinical latency." Dave breathed out and in, then out, then in. "The one she carries happens to be one of them… I guess." He looked up at them.
The older man nodded.
"I need to tell you this as well," Cara said and inhaled deeply. "Do you know the name, Mercer? Particularly Alex Mercer?"
Pop quiz of 2009, what was the terrorist name that unleashed the virus on Manhattan?
"Y-yes," he answered hesitatingly. He knew that sharing the same last name was mere coincidence, but when it was specifically mentioned...
"I'm his sister."
"What?" Dave sucked his breath in sharply.
She wasn't just a wanted fugitive because of a… walking living case of the killer virus. She was a wanted fugitive for being related to the man that had caused millions to die!
He stared at her, eyes wide in comprehension.
"It's complicated." She looked away from the look he was giving. "But my brother is the terrorist that killed thousands at Penn Station," Cara confessed resignedly. "The virus though was a different strain. It didn't get the chance to spread, Dave. Something to do with killing its hosts before it had a chance. How should I say this," she grunted in frustration. "It wasn't the one that swept the street and killed most of Manhattan populations, but it was a good scapegoat at the time."
Dave just kept gawping then his jaw creaked shut, awkwardly he sat as they watched him. Silence roaring except for hiss of food cooking on the pan.
"I-I don't know what to feel about this. For all I know, you could be saying that because you're… that man's sister," he whispered hoarsely.
A dark look fell on Cara's face. A look that made him try not to give her any reason to be pissed at him… but this was different.
"I'm not defending because that man was family, Dave," she snapped. "I'm defending my place in this as well since some would mark convict's family members as shady as the convicted. I'm giving you truth."
"Then what about Chase? Isn't he your brother?!" Dave pointed at the blue-eyes man standing by the wall.
"He is, and I did have one brother," she answered calmly.
Did...
All the photos were blurry as hell. They never really had clear footage. There was no resemblance with Chase and that man. But if he just looked properly when it came to Cara…
There were these crazy conspiracies, that killers that escaped from authorities purposely get themselves plastic-surgeries to change their look, and actually got away. But that could make Chase… Dave stared at the man leaning against the wall.
...the terrorist.
"Dave, Dave," Cara called out.
They were in hiding.
She could be lying. Heck, she'd been lying and keeping this from him.
She was his sister, it was natural to defend family, if not, she was defending herself from being boxed in as a terrorist's acquaintance.
Why are you telling me this, why did you tell me this?
The question is, should he doubt what the world says and give them a chance?
Since when has the world been right? It never had. People could have opinions all they wanted, but they could never truly understand the situation for sure, not unless those involved told them.
He knew that, cause he had to save lives for every time someone overdosed, cut themselves, suffered in a questionable accident, or when a young teenage girl had abdominal pain. He had to talk to their family, face to face, telling the truth, but he had no right to judge their lives. He could have all the opinions in the world, but he chose not to let it get in the way. All he could do… was just save them as best as he could.
But he wasn't dealing with people who were caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time, he was dealing with people behind the death of millions of Manhattans.
The people involved in the Manhattan Outbreak were talking to his face.
Except what they'd said echoed conspiracies, when all the recalls of the survivors, even those who doubted the name Mercer have been the voice of what really happened. They had hardly touched the conspiracies. What they said all went along with what the government said.
Truth. Truth, Dave. This is the honesty part.
And here they were, the very people at the heart of it, who would know more at what happened.
It was just… crazy. He didn't want truth, he didn't want all these sudden questions popping up in his head. He never asked for this! But… he glanced at Cara.
Here you are, asking. Telling. Confessing.
Dave just couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe he was drugged. According to the internet, the percentage of being screwed in the head is higher than what they said was the truth.
"Like I said, we'll do this one at a time," Cara added calmly. "Let's start with the Outbreak and work backward from there. Ask questions, and interrupt if you want. Just don't expect everything to be clear right away."
Plenty of dragged smokes later, enough to give him black lungs, Dave's fingers had calmed down enough not to shake. He was standing outside, in the corridor with the files, reports, and a laptop.
"Dave," Cara… or Dana murmured as she leaned against the door. "I'm being selfish, aren't I? Keeping all of this from you."
"I… I don't know," Dave confessed. He felt numb, he felt… he didn't know what to feel, for her, for them, for everything. "Part of me… is glad you told me now." He grimaced. "But, I am… a bit angry that you held something like this back from me, for this long too." He looked at her earnestly, a knot still between his brows.
Terrorist, fugitives, carriers. On the run. On the run.
"These kinds of things will get you kill, Dave," she said quietly.
She cares, that's why she's telling you, and now she's giving you proof, secrets… But why, just why? If they were criminals, they wouldn't give him the means.
They trust you.
"Knowing, even saying the names behind all of this," Cara closed her eyes and rested her head against the doorway. "It's not just… those people behind the Outbreak. It's… them." She glanced behind her, at Gordon and Chase quietly murmuring to each other. Their tone quiet and serious. "I'm dragging you into hell, Dave. Fucking New World," she said with acid then looked at him, worried.
"Dave, they're talking what they're gonna do to you if… you tell others," Cara whispered quietly, her hand tightly gripping his arm that held their secrets.
They… they? He heard the low murmur behind her. Did she mean Chase and Gordon?
"Do not show, do not say, and most of all, try to make sure everything stays in routine. Live your life, don't act it has changed or anything."
It has, he wanted it to change… but not this way. Anything but this.
"That sounds like a threat," Dave whispered back.
She looked at him guiltily. "Even if you don't want to be with me anymore after this. I would do my best to make sure my personal feelings isn't their highest priority," Cara told him. "It took me a lot to convince them to even trust you on holding a physical copy of that." She pointed what was in his arms. "Just be careful with those physical stuffs, those… are actually Gordon's work. A copy of his skeleton in the closet. Mines are in the hard drive."
"Can I ask what do they have in plan if you can't stop them, or I fucked up Gordon's… luggage?" Dave asked, anxious as his body tightened.
Gordon, threatening him? He tried wrapping around his head at the lanky older man who wears bow ties, and keeps pens in his chest pocket threatening him. The man who shoved his hand into his brother's chest so easily and ripped out a black tentacle.
Albeit they were times Gordon weirded him out, with the occasional rare creepy moments of him smiling at him. But different compare to Chase's open hostility that lasered him every time he was in the same room.
Cara's face darkened and paled at his asking. "Gordon wants to wipe your mind. All the memories, anything about me, meeting me, knowing all of this. And from what I heard from his ex, he doesn't take rejection well. It's easy to set him off by merely doing something he doesn't like you doing. You might end up sick... Or dead next morning with no trace of the cause, well… him causing it. But mostly… you're going to suffer amnesia, or brainwash or something. Memories being replaced with another."
He can do that? Dave blanched. "How?" he whispered.
"Them being not human, have abilities like… supers except Cthulhu style," Cara answered weakly. "It's hard to explain, but it does deal heavily on what the virus can do."
So he was dealing comic book supers… and not the kind seen in Saturday morning ones. And he didn't know whether he should believe this or not.
"But Alex…" Cara faltered. "He just plain wants to bash your head into the pavement. Murder the soul out of you."
"Didn't he always want to?"
"Yeah, but this time, he has a… real excuse, one that has to do with you might… betraying us. Not because of me this time."
Might? Might! Dave glared then quickly reminded himself this was Chase, the Chase who never had once trust him with… anything. Chase never told anything about himself, would give a threatening glare if he so much touched or looked at something in Cara's old apartment, would even avoid talking and ignore his existence in the room.
Would know how to twist and break a neck. That was no fake twist, Gordon's head was skewed wrongly and stayed that way when he collapsed to the ground.
Shit. "You're putting pressure on me, Cara," he whined.
"I know… I'm sorry," she lamented. "I'll do my best. You… you just take your time. Be safe, and keep that away from another's hands. Hide it when you're not using it. Use the laptop I gave you, it has no means to connect to any network, cable or wireless, that way no one can access unless directly," she told him sternly before swinging the door close but he pressed a hand against it.
"If… this…" he grimaced, struggling for the words. "What would you have said?" he asked quietly.
She gazed at him with her blue piercing eyes for a long time before looking away guiltily. Pulling from her jean's pocket, the diamond ring resting between her fingers. "Yes," she answered quietly then placing the ring into his hand. "But yes means nothing now," she added sadly.
"Then why are you telling me this?" Dave asked, his voice sharp.
Cara stared at him and sighed. "So it gives you a head start in case you need to run. And I just… can't stand the thought of ruining your life."
She looked away, her eyes gleaming and he heard her sharp inhale. Dave just stood there helplessly as he watched her, hands heavy at his side.
"When you're ready," she said with a weak hopeful smile, "We'll still going to have more talk, but mostly concerning what to expect from the future. If…" she paused awkwardly. "You still want to be with me, Dave," she murmured. "You might have to give up more than you wanted to."
Once a clear bright ideal future, now it was so muddled up with these new issues coming to light.
"I'm guessing more complication than just to do with fugitive status," Dave guessed weakly.
"Yes." Cara nodded. "Good night," she said quietly and finally shut the door.
He stood outside the door for a while. For once, going home to an empty apartment… without Cara.
"Dana," he heard the muffled voice. "It's alright."
"I'm sure he'll understand, Bee. I mean… there are… alternatives."
"No. Don't even so much touch his brain. And you, Alex… just… no sticking anything through him. Dave's got a lot to handle on his own, he doesn't need this. So just leave him alone. No threats, no contact unless strictly necessary."
"Would you want some fried noodle with that order of yours?"
"Gordon, I mean it!"
Chase's muffled voice interrupted, "And what if he… y'know…"
He quickly backed away, not wanting to hear more of what… those two planned to do. He shuddered, feeling the goosebumps riding up his spines; unaware of two pairs of ears keeping track of his steps for the whole time.
"Wei?"
"Mandy, hi… it's me, Cara."
"Cara?"
"Your ex...in-law sis whatever!"
"Oh, Cara! How have you been?"
"I'm fine. But can I ask you a question?"
"Philip bothering you?"
"No. It's j-"
"Your brother suffering some problem, and he's not remotely communicating about it? Philip does that as well, wouldn't give me a warning about him… doing his stuff to himself. Had to deal with his spontaneous mood swings."
"N-no. And how do you know it's a who, not a what?"
"When has a problem hasn't been a who here?"
"Well, whatever! Look, when Gordon told you the truth, how did you react?"
"Shocked, surprised, disbelief, scared… well, I was always scared of him. I actually... ran away."
"What?"
"I took the car. I took Hank. And I drive as far and as fast as I can get away with."
"Wow. Y'know, this is not making me feel better on telling the truth, Mandy."
"Truth?"
"My boyfriend. He asked the question. And… I had to tell him by then."
"Oh… I'm sorry. I mean, not in a way that's a lost-"
"It's okay. At least you're being honest. But… you stayed with him, didn't you? You married him."
"I guess…"
"You guess?"
"Dana," Lin began very gently. "When I ran away, he couldn't be angry or sad at me. He couldn't be happy at anything."
"I'm opening a can of worms, aren't I?"
"Yeah…" Lin murmured. "I'm sorry, I… just, my past with Philip won't help you in this. He was… too different, even though he hid so well, about himself, y'know." Dana heard her pause and the fuzzy exhale.
"How should I say this… When I told him about having a divorce, he lapsed. I like to say he was shocked, had his face covered with his hands and all, couldn't believe the words I've said, didn't see what he did. But...he sort of lost control. Near death experience right there." She laughed softly.
Dana couldn't understand how could she laugh at that.
"Don't get me wrong. He wasn't abusive, not one bit," she added quickly.
You're not that stupid, Dana thought silently and nodded to herself in understanding.
"It's hard to describe it, the feelings I get sometimes with him. He's frightening because… well, if you've been there, in my shoes, you would have saw the look he had behind his hands. Wasn't hateful, wasn't angry, wasn't sad, just a mask with a crack, kind of like a spying kid peeking through his fingers. I think he wanted me dead - no, I think he wanted..." She heard her grimace.
"I think he wanted...something at least, I just don't know what. But he did it on purpose. Looking back… I don't think it was a slip, he intended to do that." Mandy sighed in frustration before she could ask what it was. "It was like my husband was gone, and all of sudden someone else was wearing his skin. Gave me the creeps. I could never get used to that feeling," she confessed. "It came up occasionally in my time with him. But I thought back then, it was just my imagination."
"Cara," Dana blinked when Mandy focused back on her. "That was the kind of man I dated and married. I'll tell you this though, at times, reality would remind us of these kinds of things."
Silence, the journalist's face fell as she sat in the dark with her phone in her hand. The knots in her tightening as she struggled to breathe slowly. Awkward and anxious, she wasn't prepared of opening this can of worms. It made her feel sick in the stomach.
These kinds of things. Was that what Dave would feel if he chose to live his life with her?
"Can't believe I fell in love with him. Shows how screwed or crazy a girl is to fall in love to…" her voice faltered, "someone like that," Mandy finished as if hearing her own apprehension. "And did you know what he said at that? Nature knows what she's doing. The jokes he pulls." She chuckled.
"Bad jokes are his specialty, I guess," Dana replied shakily. "When I confessed to… Dave," she began awkwardly, wanting to shake off the grim mood. Reminded too much of those… unpleasant conversations she had with Alex, especially on what he had done, what he had to do, she interjected, even though the way he said those words didn't sound convinced at that last bit. In fact, he admitted reluctantly with a hint of bitterness.
Dana grumbled, "He absolutely embarrassed me with jokes, he made me the butt of the jokes. And it was during the confession too. The same day he proposed, Mandy. He made what supposed to be carefully planned talk into confusing mess. Cause. Of. Those. Jokes," she growled then grimaced.
"I'm sorry, Cara. But trust me, it would be better for you were dealing with Gordon at the time. Not Philip… or…"
"You speak as if they were separate entities."
"It feels like that with him. Might as well married to a man with personality disorder."
Personality disorder, Dana huffed. Now that she thought of it, her realizing Alex's behavior and comparing it to her brother's, the difference did not perplex her, just made her hopeful. But when truth changed her perspective, it was just shattering that image that they both built. "I think… I kinda understand why you ran away," she murmured.
"Oh."
Perhaps it was the opposite with Lin, Dana frowned at that thought.
"I had to deal with it when it comes to learning about my brother," she explained. "At that time, I just didn't want to think about it, and I… well I'm ashamed to admit it, I actually pushed him out of my life."
"Your brother?"
"Let's just say when he confessed to not being… y'know…"
"I was kinda wondering about that. How can't he be your brother again?"
"It's complicated… and a whole lot to do about what happened, technicalities really and how you look at it." Dana sighed. "Kinda like having an adopted brother for your whole life, but you didn't know he was adopted," she babbled, relieving the tension in her and waving away the dark clouds of the earlier conversation.
"And he was holding back that little fact. Doesn't help he went away and to make it even worse… he died, then someone else came back who looks like him, behaved like him - sort-of, was amnesiac and all," Dana added quickly.
"He does all these nice things and finally told: Hey, I'm not the guy that y'knew for your whole life," she said hoarsely in a nasally crack head kind of way. "I just happened to look like him, and I realized that man. And by the way… I… man, the guy y'know, knew I mean, who you and I thought was me…yeah? He was adopted and kind of a dick."
Mandy was chuckling. "I'm pretty sure your brother doesn't sound like that."
"Well yeah, my brother doesn't talk much, but that's how I translate his… bumblish way."
"Y'know I should be the one comforting, considering your situation."
"It's okay!" Dana cut in then slumped and slipped, "It's not okay, Mandy! I'm fucked, I'm fucked!" she spilled. "I… Dave probably thinks I'm a monster holding this all back." A hand brushed her face, rubbing her eyes before the panic tears could spill. Her hand slapped back onto her thigh when she whispered into the phone before she pinched and tugged her jeans. "What am I going to do, Lin?"
"You like the guy?"
"Of course! And cause of that, I wish I hadn't told him this stuff about us. Cause..." Dana clamped her mouth and eyes shut, inhaling deep. "I just… I just don't know what to do, Mandy. I really don't," she confessed lamely.
"Right now I'm thinking sandy beaches and Miami. Drive there, heck even bring him and say to hell with it," Lin replied.
Dana huffed at this, a weak laugh.
"How did you deal with it?"
"I wasn't the one who was doing the waiting, Cara," Lin answered, tone quiet. "It was Philip who had to deal with it."
"And did he deal with it well?"
"Short answer, no. Long answer, it wasn't bad now that I think of it. Actually… it's bad. Just bad."
She exhaled. "Now I know what… my brother," she corrected quickly, "felt when he confessed."
"Then you should be asking him instead."
"I said no to him, Mandy. I told my brother to get out once I learned… all this crapshoot."
And what if Dave did that? Tell her to get out of his life for this shitty mess she spilled. Considering what she fucking did to Alex, she wouldn't blame it on him doing the same to her, and that was what frightened her more yet hoped, just hoping despite all the realistic outcomes of him saying no to all this shit and stepping away. Dana covered her mouth, breathing quickly through her nose.
"But you let him come back?"
"Well… yeah, but." She breathed rapidly, trying to settle her nerves. "I - I didn't even know my brother well. I mean five years gone, Mandy. So much changed between us, changes that I didn't want to admit back then," she added bitterly. Absence just made her realized the changes had always happened, before he was gone. She just… didn't want to see it. "So when he came back, he was practically and literally a stranger. It wasn't like me and Dave."
She knew Dave, but she knew any sane person would want to stay far, far away. Dave was that sane man.
"Yet you let him stay, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you?"
Cause I want the good times back. But I shouldn't. I couldn't. And it wouldn't be fair for him. Dana thought, eyes downcast, head swirled with the past incidents and now.
"For the same reason why people get to know strangers who decided to pick you up from a wreck of a car crash," she answered, slumping when she looked up at the ceiling above, "when they could just pass you by with their own life."
Except I'm not picking Dave up from the car crash, I'm putting him into one.