Vega - A Sci-Fi Superhero Thriller (The Gift Book 3) by Marc Stapleton

Author:Marc Stapleton [Stapleton, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 35

Two hours into the journey, I begin to wish I’d left his dead body behind for real.

Two hours of driving in the night – uncomfortably propping my head up on my right hand as I lean into the car door beside me – answering all of Baynes’ questions with as much enthusiasm as I can tiredly muster.

Two hours of insatiably excited queries about me and the ‘nano robots’ as he calls them at first. Questions about if I can really die: yes. Could I magically create a gun from scratch: no. Could I shoot nano robots into someone’s eye: no. Could I climb upside down on ceilings and fly: hell no. Could I enroll into a collegiate wrestling program and dominate the division: probably?

Two hours into our drive, I’m mercifully informed we’re near our destination. Then it occurs to me I don’t even know where we’re going; I never even had a chance to ask, such was the avalanche of inane questioning rushing from his mouth. We’ve traveled north through DC, but aside from that I’ve no idea.

“Where are we going?” I ask, interrupting another question I wasn’t paying attention to.

“I’ve got a place in Baltimore,” he says, steering a corner. “A safehouse, of sorts. Somewhere I set up in case the proverbial ever hit the fan, you know?”

A safehouse, huh? I guess Baynes is savvier than I gave him credit for. Or perhaps these senior CIA agents are all just struck by the same paranoia; that they might have to drop everything and go off-grid at a moment’s notice.

We drop off the I-95 into West Baltimore, and traverse the city’s dark side streets and alleys, finally slowing beside a lot of vacant rowhouses, all ruined and dilapidated in various manners – missing roofs, flaking cream paint from red bricks, or just completely burned out; windows crowned by scorch marks and black, warped beams sticking out at odd angles.

“Okay, it’s time,” he says sullenly, as we pull to a stop beside a grassy verge, with patches of snow still visible amid the unkempt weeds. We stop under a streetlight, filling the car with pale white light. He turns to me, and immediately launches himself into a full jump-scare; his eyes and mouth widening, and his body shooting up in his seat.

“Jesus, Christ!” he yells, seeing my new face in the light for the first time. “That’s, you’re, that’s a—”

“Yeah,” I say, “if it takes you a while to get used to it, imagine how I feel.”

“It’s really real,” he mumbles, still staring at my face. I feel my brow and lips – experiencing that shocking feeling of exploring my own face and finding someone else’s there instead – and smile at him. “I mean, not to say I doubted you, but…”

He trails off, and there’s a moment of silence between us.

“Well, enough staring,” I say. “Let’s go.”

We both get out, and Baynes retrieves a plastic bottle from the glovebox. After he begins squirting the contents around the interior like he’s juicing up a barbecue, I realize what we’re doing here.

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