Sins of the Father by Christa Faust

Author:Christa Faust
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

Walter arrived a few minutes early, carrying a number of large, awkward packages and nearly tripping over his own feet as he entered. Julia ran to his side and helped steady him, taking one of the packages from his arms.

“Here,” she said. “Let me help you, Doctor Bishop.”

“Thank you, Astrid,” Walter replied, seeming distracted—as if he was already thinking about something else.

“Astrid?” Julia frowned. “My name is Julia.”

“Oh, of course it is,” Walter replied, tipping his head to the left and muttering to no one. “Why did you say her name was Astrid?”

Julia frowned at him. His eyes were glazed and pupils dilated.

He’s on something, she thought, and she felt like cheering. This was too perfect.

“Did you drop acid again, Doctor Bishop?” she asked.

“What?” He turned to his left again, making it look as if he was listening to someone or something other than her. “I suppose you’re right,” he said to thin air, “but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Will you be working on your generator again tonight?” Julia asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to confirm it.

“It’s a new blend,” Walter replied, answering her first question and ignoring the second. “Seems to have a strange effect on my sense of separation between the past and the future. But I believe it will also boost the electrical output that I’m able to channel through my generator.”

“Well, you’d better be careful—remember the last time? When you blew the circuit and set the phonebook on fire?” Julia set Walter’s package on his workstation. “Here, let me check all the burners, and make sure the gas is turned off.”

Walter ignored her completely, focusing on whatever was going on inside his head. Julia smiled and walked over to the closest burner, gripping the knob so hard that its cold metal edge dug deeply into her fingers. She paused, her heart slam-dancing in her chest, feeling light-headed and sweaty. It was one thing to plan something like this, but another thing to actually do it.

It was just the smallest movement of her wrist. Just the slightest turn to the left. Just enough to allow a slow, undetectable leak. So that when Carla tried to make Walter burn the journal…

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I’ve got what I want.

Just do it.

She turned the knob, and quickly backed away.

“They’re all off,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s safe now.” She picked up her own backpack, and headed for the door. “Have a good night, Doctor Bishop.”

She could hear him muttering to himself as he hunched over his packages. He probably didn’t even know she was still there.

On her way out, she took the small fire extinguisher off the wall and slid it into her bag.

* * *

Walter thought he heard a female voice coming from behind the centrifuge, but it sounded strange—distorted and foreign, as if it were a weak pirate-radio broadcast, perhaps from another country. The only words he could make out were, “Doctor Bishop.” And even though it was his own name, something in the vowels seemed sinister, unrealistic.

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