Hysteria Read online

  “Do it,” Del Amitri says. “It’s your only chance.”

  McKenzie knows he should shoot but his fingers can’t seem to squeeze the trigger. He lowers the gun.

  Del Amitri reaches down and snatches the Glock from McKenzie’s grip and grabbing Jenny by her hair, he drags her to the edge of the roof.

  “No,” shouts McKenzie crawling after Del Amitri.

  “Make your choice kid,” Del Amitri shouts. “Me or your Angel?”

  McKenzie looks back at Angel slumped on the floor in a large pool of blood. “Go,” she whispers. “Stop Del Amitri.”

  McKenzie looks back at Jenny, kicking and screaming.

  Del Amitri punches Jenny. She collapses. He catches her and throws her over his shoulder.

  McKenzie finds his Smith and Wesson in a flowerpot and takes aim. Del Amitri and Jenny drop over the side of the roof.

  McKenzie squeezes the trigger.

  They are gone.

  McKenzie crawls over to Angel.

  Her eyes shut.

  He places her hand over the entry wound and pushes down hard. At the top of his voice he cries out, “Help. Somebody. Please help.”

  Chapter Sixteen: Parental Consent

  Damien Diamond watches a live video feed on his smart phone. Across his screen, Del Amitri drops off the edge of the hospital roof onto a neighboring building. McKenzie Chase sobs over the motionless body of Angel.

  A cop runs out of the elevator onto the roof. A female police sergeant, Rodriguez according to the digital ID flashing on his screen. She runs pas McKenzie, draws her weapon and fires six times into the mist. Sinks to her knees and punches the roof.

  Damien swivels around in his leather seat to face the conference room of city law firm, Young, Young, Scott and Johnson.

  The dawn light floods in through the panoramic scene above Manhattan.

  He turns to the room of sharp dressed lawyers sat around a mahogany table.

  “Do you know what is worse than being powerless?” he says.

  Silence. Lead partner, Angus Young clears his throat gently.

  Damien smiles to himself. “Of course you don’t,” he says and hurls his phone at Angus Young.

  The old man ducks as it buries itself in a fine copy of an old master hanging above him.

  “I don’t care if you have to bribe every top judge in the Supreme Court,” Damien shouts. “I want what’s mine.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Angus Young says, “if you could give us a moment.”

  The room of lawyers silently stands and exits.

  Damien watches a female associate pack her papers.

  “Ms. Scarrow,” Young says to the woman. “Give Damien your unique analysis of the problem.”

  “I’m paying for results,” Damien says. “Not opinion.”

  She smiles at Damien. “What is worse than being powerless?”

  “Not realizing you have power,” he says.

  “And what is worse than that?” she says.

  Damien shakes his head. Rests his dirty Nikes on the table. From his jeans pocket he takes out a fresh stick of gum.

  He watches with amusement as Angus Young slides a waste paper bin with his shoe towards Damien.

  Damien spits out an old piece of gum onto the table and pops in the fresh piece.

  “Not using the power you do have,” she says.

  “Meaning?”

  “McKenzie Chase is a minor,” she says. “You cannot take the young man’s blood without his parent’s consent.”

  “I know this already,” Damien says. “If anyone outside this room finds out exactly what is in Chase’s blood,” he says. “Every corporate spy in the world will steal my source code while I’m tied up in litigation for years.”

  “If Chase is made a ward of state,” she says. “You could file for immediate protection of your property.”

  “Kill his parents?”

  She nods.

  Damien smiles and looks at his watch. “Whatever it takes but I want it resolved in the next hour.”

  Scarrow takes out her phone and speed dials. “Supreme Court Justice Dickinson on hold,” she says. “On your word he orders a hearing held in secret, naturally.”

  She hands Damien a file. “Target picture and location,” she says.

  He opens it revealing a photo of McKenzie Chase with his parents.

  Damien swipes his phone over the photo scanning it onto his screen. He attaches it to a text message.

  Send To: Del Amitri.

  Message: Kill parents. Immediate.

  Target Location: GPS co-ordinates attached.

  Damien hits send.

  “Consider the source code returned to its rightful owner,” Scarrow says.

  Young whispers to Scarrow, “Screw this up and the next message for Del Amitri contains your name and picture.”

  “Yes Uncle,” Scarrow says. “There’s just one problem.”

  Damien looks up. “Only one?”

  “What happens if Del Amitri discovers,” Scarrow says, “you don’t have his daughter?”

  Damien nods. “Oscar Del Amitri is fast outliving his usefulness.”

  Chapter Seventeen: Whatever It Takes

  Charlie Chase runs into the hospital lobby.

  “McKenzie Chase,” she shouts at the nurse behind the reception desk.

  “Relative?”

  “Mother.”

  The nurse picks up a phone and dials fifth floor. “The jumper’s mother has finally shown up. Ok, I’ll tell her.”

  She slams the phone and smiles. “Fifth floor, the police will-”

  Charlie is already in the elevator punching the button for fifth.

  The door stutters and re-opens.

  In steps the ex. Tall, tanned and lovely. Trailing the trophy wife behind. The younger, new improved model. This model knows how to blow gum bubbles and shine her nails at the same time. Brad’s attaining new heights, she muses. Can he really handle that amount of sophistication?

  “Brad, you said you couldn’t make it today,” Charlie says.

  “I’d do anything for McKenzie,” Brad says.

  Charlie snorts. Its unattractive she knows but as much as she fantasizes over the idea of punching Brad and throwing him out the elevator. She sighs and resists lowering herself to his standards.

  “By anything if you mean two weeks a year at jump school,” Charlie says. “Look where that got him.”

  “I’m making him a man, by example,” Brad says. “More than you can ever do.”

  “I’m the one who’s raising him,” Charlie says avoiding at her fading looks in the wall mirror. “Sacrificing everything. And your check is late, again.”

  The Trophy wife bursts her pink bubble with an irritating pop and says, “Bad weather canceled our world record tandem jump.”

  “It can speak too,” Charlie says. “Doesn’t that complicate things?”

  “Don’t start, Charlie,” Brad says as the elevator opens on second.

  In steps a solemn suited man. Fine looking. Same build as Brad. Charlie tries not to stare. She’s off men for good.

  “Floor?” Brad says.

  “Fifth please,” the man says. “I got it.”

  He leans over Charlie, punches the button for fifth and his jacket opens revealing a holster.

  Charlie steps back.

  The man smiles. “It’s ok, ma’am,” he says. “FBI.”

  “Working on my son’s case?” Brad says.

  “You’re McKenzie’s parents?” the man says. “Fine boy, you did well with that one. Talks about you both all the time.”

  “He does?” Charlie says somewhat shocked. Suspecting a white lie and admiring this handsome stranger all the more for it. Why couldn’t Brad’s lies ever be kind and sensitive like this? She preens her long hair. Or is she just on autopilot. Pathetically trying to make Brad jealous. She can’t tell anymore.

  “Special agent Del Amitri,” the man says and his eyes seem to linger on Charlie longer than she d
ares hope or expect. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  This Del Amitri’s not even given the trophy wife a second glance. Charlie preens and puffs out her chest. Still fine for her age. Thank God, she wore a padded bra. She puckers her lips and tilts her head attentively.

  “Any progress?” Brad says.

  Del Amitri shakes his head.

  “What’s this we hear about a shooting involving one of yours?” Brad says.

  “One or two developments on that front,” Del Amitri says reaching into his jacket. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  Another pink bubble pop fills Charlie’s ears. She feels a sharp pain in her chest. Brad collapses on top of her. The Trophy wife is screaming. Charlie lies on the elevator floor looking up at Brad’s face. A gaping hole in his head dripping blood into her eyes.

  The Trophy wife stops screaming and slumps against the elevator wall. Del Amitri stands over Charlie. Points a gun with silencer at the end of its barrel. Aims at her eyes.

  “Why?” she hears herself whisper.

  “Would you do anything for your child?”

  She knows the answer to that as Del Amitri squeezes the trigger.

  “Whatever it takes,” Del Amitri says.

  Chapter Eighteen: Elevator of Death

  McKenzie waits at the elevator. It would be great if Dad could make it. But if McKenzie had a new wife as hot as Sally, he’d be slow about getting around to visiting. He’s dying to hear news of the world record attempt. Four hundred jumpers in tandem. Awesome. Secretly he hopes bad weather delays it again and again so he can be a part of the record next summer.

  The elevator stops at fourth. Finally, it continues up to fifth. Ping. The doors slide open.

  At first, McKenzie thinks the elevator is empty. A long moment later, as his feet begin to feel wet, his eyes are drawn down to the floor and large crimson pool lapping at his toes. Blood.

  Mom’s unblinking eyes stare up at him. Dad’s powerful muscular frame lays unmoving on top of her. A wide hole in the back of his head. The gorgeous Sally, with a pink bubble splattered across her blood soaked face.

  Charlie screams in McKenzie’s ear. “They finally did it,” she shouts. “They killed each other.”

  Angel climbs off her hospital bed and runs over to the elevator. She steps into the elevator. Kneeling in the pool of blood, she touches the head wounds.

  “Professional hit,” she says and turns to McKenzie. “Why are they important?”

  “Why?” shouts McKenzie shaking his head. Feeling suddenly alone and empty like never before. “Don’t you know what parents are for?”

  Angel shakes her head. “Worth killing?”

  Angel pushes pass Jenny and grabs McKenzie’s arm. Dragging him away from the elevator. “Come with me now or die.”

  McKenzie feels Charlie grip his shoulders. “What have you done?” she screams. “What have you got us into?”

  Mylo pulls Jenny away. She collapses in his arms and wails.

  “Jenny, he let you go?” Mylo says.

  “No,” Jenny says. “Don’t you understand? He can kill us anytime he wants.”

  McKenzie feels his hands clench into fists. His blood pumps through his heart at a raging pace. He pulls a business card out of his leg cast and thrusts it at Angel.

  “This ends, now,” he says. “Call Damien.”

  Chapter Nineteen: Hysteria

  Madison Del Amitri walks up and down Fifth Avenue. Shivering. Waiting for the early morning sun to warm her. She dodges the sporadic traffic as she hovers over man hole covers. Basking in the warm wafting steam rising up to street level.

  A newspaper vendor opens up on the corner. He places his coffee on a stack of papers bound with twine. He turns his back and flicks a knife under the twine.

  Madison stares at the steam rising up from the coffee mug. Every molecule of aroma wafts over to her. Heat chemically reacts with the coffee and air. Millions of tiny explosions of flavor. Setting off a chain reaction in her brain. Tormenting her with memories of another life. Another Madison Del Amitri. Laughing, drinking. Times when she never knew loneliness. Better times of a dead girl. But with whom? The faces are blurs. How long ago?

  Ever since Tyler made her what she is now. She must walk on. Hurry along or end up hurting someone. She can’t control what it makes her do. Or what she is. Her feet remain fixed. She reaches out and lets her hands feels the warmth.

  Her wrist jerks away, knocking the coffee aside.

  The vendor holds up her arm and raises his knife to her eyes.

  “I gut thieves,” he says spitting rancid breath into her face and scraping the knife gently down her neck to her stomach.

  She can smell the decay inside him. Spreading. Uncontrollable. Cancerous. He’s dying. Does he even know?

  “Ain’t a thief,” she says fighting back tears.

  “No?” the vendor says pouring another cup of coffee. “What are you then?”

  She shakes her head and struggles against his grip on her arm.

  “Speak up.”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “Everything’s confused.”

  “Then how you know you’re not a thief?”

  She ponders this logic. Shrugs.

  The Vendor seems to study her face. “Don’t I know you?”

  She shakes her head.

  He pulls her close so her nose is almost touching his. Her reflection in his eyes swirls around. Like her eyes are on fire. A hurricane of fire.

  He squints as if his vision is faulty. Looks into her eyes as if he can see something that shouldn’t be there.

  “Sure,” he says sucking on his gums. “Sure, I know-”

  Madison feels them moving, awakening with the warmth. Swarming.

  “Please let me go,” she says looking around. “Or you be hurt. Bad.”

  “I’m the one with the knife, girlie,” he says waving it across her eyes. “We’ll see what the cops got to say about all this.”

  And then it happens. Just like she knew it would.

  The vendor jerks his head back as if a bolt of lightning hits him.

  She knows he’s seen them. In her eyes. Awakening. Gathering force. A tornado of terror.

  “What are you?” he says. “Freak.”

  Madison pulls away. “Get off me, or you’ll die,” she says and throws the coffee in the Vendor’s face.

  He drops to his knees screaming and holding his face as a bag of change and ones spills out on the ground. But he still grips her wrist as tight as ever.

  A blue and white cop car glides by. Its passenger leans out the window. “Everything ok, Bob?”

  “Got me a runaway,” the Vendor shouts. “It’s that girl you’re looking for.”

  Madison’s hands begin to emit tiny green sparks. Lightning bolts exploding up her arms. Swirling around her fingers. The rage.

  “Please let me go now or-”

  The tiny lightning bolts explode into the Vendor’s face.

  The squad car reverses up the street towards Madison.

  The vendor’s body spasms. His face seems to be pleading to Madison. As if, he’s unable to let go of her. His hands fusing around her wrist. The tiny lightning engulfs his body. Jerking him left and right. Lifting him up off his knees. Spreading out his arms as if nailing him to a crucifix.

  She breaks his grip as his body lifts up from the ground and hurls itself over his newspaper stand and onto the roof of the cops’ squad car.

  It screeches to halt. And the cops jump out. Pulling the body of the Vendor off their hood. The sparks singe their hands and with their nightsticks, they push the Vendor off their car. He slumps onto the sidewalk. Wide eyed as if staring at some distant land. A place from where no one ever returns.

  “Dead,” says the driver.

  “Barbequed,” the other cop says.

  “Deep fried and crispy. Call it in.”

  Madison hears the cops shout at her. She needs to stay away from them. Before she hurts them. The way she hurts everyone. Sh
e runs.

  “The kid,” one cop shouts and picks up the car radio. “Car six five six, North on Fifth, we have a sighting of missing girl, Madison Del Amitri. Request back up.”

  She darts passed the traffic lights and down Thirty Fourth.

  “Head her off,” one cop says as the squad car cuts her up.

  Madison leaps over the hood without touching it. Her feet slam into the windshield and she somersaults over the roof.

  “What the hell?” the driver says and hits his breaks hard. “Did you see where she went?”

  The other cop shakes his head as they reverse and head back up Fifth.

  Madison hangs silently from the traffic lights high above the cops as they pull away. She squints as the traffic lights change and turn her face red. In a few seconds, she’ll quietly slide down the pole to street level and run in the opposite direction. Always running.

  The Cop car slows. Stops. Reverses. At high speed.

  They’ve seen her. In their rear view mirror.

  It slams to a stop and the cops jump out. Arming themselves. Their guns rising up to the sky.

  “I’m sorry,” Madison shouts. She jumps and sees the flicker of confusion on their faces.

  She lands on them and the lightning from her hands engulfs their bodies.

  Shots ring out over their screams as the lightning fuses their trigger fingers.

  She runs from the convulsing bodies. Her hands over her ears. Tears running down her face. Running to be alone. Running from herself.

  Chapter Twenty: Court Order

  Damien walks into McKenzie’s hospital room. “I’ve brought some friends,” he says.

  McKenzie lies on his hospital bed conscious of his legs itching like crazy inside the leg casts.

  A fat balding man enters and shakes McKenzie’s hand. “Very brave, young man. Under the circumstances, I’m sorry for this.”

  “What’s going on, Angel?” McKenzie says.

  Angel stands by McKenzie’s bed in silence. Her arm in a sling.

  “How is it?” he says.

  “I’ll live,” she says. “Keep your eyes on the exit.”