Security
The difference between an ordinary man and a great man, thought Carlton Drake, is that a great man must overcome obstacles. Challenges. And the greater he is, the more heroic he is, the more formidable are the challenges he must face.
I am a very great man. This was a statement of fact which brought him comfort in trying times—such as the loss of not one, not two, but all three symbiotes in the space of a single day. His temper bubbled over to the point it was beginning to show, but he needed to set an example for those around him. So it was not with anger, but with deadly calm that he spoke to the security guard who had let this intruder slip past him. “You’re fired.”
He made an effort to smile at the approach of his security chief, Roland Treece. The expression became more genuine when Treece presented him with a log of which doors had been used, and by whom, the previous night. “I thought you might like some good news,” Treece said, tapping on one of the last names on the log.
Dr. Skirth. Well, well, well. He looked up at Treece. “And just where is Dr. Skirth at the moment?”
“She never came in today. Didn’t answer her phone either.”
Carlton Drake looked at him like he was trying to spell it out to a toddler. “I want my symbiotes, Treece. The future of all mankind is riding on it.”
Treece gave a predatory smile. “I’ll go pay Dr. Skirth a visit then.”
Thank god for delivery drivers. Not trusting herself to behave like a human being in public, Dora had ordered as many of the items on her list as she could get online. At some point she was going to need to scout out an actual butcher shop and go there in person, but that would have to wait until the symbiosis progressed to…whatever end it would reach.
Eddie’s (she couldn’t keep thinking of him as “Mr. Brock,” not with all they’d been going through) symptoms had taken a turn for the worse very suddenly, and he was sitting in a lukewarm bath, delirious with fever. He hadn’t bothered to take his clothes off first, and she wasn’t about to undress him.
Dora pulled at her shirt, which was soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. At this rate she might have to join him in the tub. She just hoped the delivery would get here first.
In an effort to distract herself from the physical discomfort, she tried going over the situation again, turning it around in her mind and struggling to stay coherent enough to strategize. Jay and Libby are at my sister’s house. Safe. Drake will be after the symbiotes, trying to recover them—the roiling strangeness that was increasingly present in her mind rebelled forcefully against the idea of going back to the lab, back to containment—and he knows my address since I work for him. Worked. So he will send someone here. This house is not safe. She heard a splash as Eddie started babbling to himself, a marked improvement from his total unresponsiveness earlier. But we aren’t going anywhere in this condition. So, her thoughts took on an edge, and an image of sharp teeth flickered in her vision, we need to be ready when they arrive.
She felt a warm sentiment of…approval? And shook herself. Time to get to work.
The doorbell rang and she almost opened the door automatically before catching herself. Stupid! She peered through the peephole and saw a slightly chubby man walking back to a minivan that needed a wash. Paper bags of (presumably) groceries were laid on the porch.
She opened the door cautiously and peeked around before rushing to haul the groceries in. These meats didn’t need defrosting, and after the way she and Eddie had demolished that beef liver earlier—raw—she wasted no time getting things set up in the kitchen. Above all they needed to be strong enough to face whatever was coming, they needed to eat.
The package of chicken hearts was so tempting that she just ripped it open and started popping them in her mouth like popcorn as she worked. She really, really hoped she didn’t get food poisoning on top of everything else.
She double- and triple-checked every lock on the doors and windows. She lowered all of the blinds to decrease visability. She located two cans of pepper spray (a necessity in a big city like San Fran) and placed them within easy reach of both entrances. Also large knives from the kitchen. In her mind she traced every possible escape route she could think of.
She wished she owned a gun.
Her mind worked up to a feverish pitch and she didn’t quite know what was happening when Eddie, still dripping all over the carpet, came over and managed to catch her when she fell. She was barely aware as he hauled her awkwardly over to the tub and lowered her gently into the water.
A yellow ducky with a pirate hat floated in front of her. Feeling like her head was inflated like a balloon, she just stared at it and couldn’t work up the brain power to think about anything else.
Eddie’s first act as a marginally functional human being was to put the damn knives back in the kitchen. Jeezus, this woman knows jack shit about self defense. He could understand the sentiment, of course—now that he was thinking somewhat clearly it seemed obvious that the LIFE Foundation knowing Dr. Skirth’s address was going to be very relevant in short order.
He thanked her silently for stocking up on more meat, polishing off the chicken hearts before opening the fridge and finding a delightful cornucopia of options. Carne-copia…heh. He passed over a way-too-expensive looking steak in favor of a bag of popcorn shrimp, and he was feeling just civilized enough to actually cook it first. He dumped the shrimp onto a cookie sheet and slid it into the oven without bothering to preheat it. He did snag one raw one that had fallen to the floor and chewed it slowly, relishing how good that definitely should not taste but also definitely did.
While he waited on the shrimp (god, just the smell of it was making him salivate), he filled up another big glass of water and sipped at it while he dialed his former boss. He’d gone to voice mail earlier but he needed to try again.
Nothing. Damn!
His mouth was still dry as a desert, and he gulped some more water. Turning the oven on really wasn’t helping with the fever situation, but he would bear it for the shrimps.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Just as he thought that, the doorbell rang.
Don’t answer it.
He just about jumped out of his skin at the low, harsh voice, then shook himself. That fever must have been worse than he thought.
He looked through the peephole and didn’t see anything. That’s…weird. His thoughts were still a mess and he was having a hard time connecting the dots on this one.
In an absolute dumbass move, he opened the door.