Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence Chapter Seven
Title: Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence
Author: Alex Foster
Category: General
Word Count: 50,000+
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A trip home for the holidays turns into a race to protect a young special from The Church of the Nephilim. Claire/Gretchen/Elle triad relationship.
Contains: Polyamory, established relationships, original characters, cursing, misogynist language, threats of violence to a child, sexual situations, descriptions of violence.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
....
Chapter Seven
"This is why you shouldn’t speed," Light said, watching the side mirrors as the officers walked up.
"I was eager," Salt said simply.
"First time in your life."
One highway patrol officer hung back on the passenger side while the other tapped on the driver side window. "License, registration and proof of insurance please."
Salt already had the documents in hand. He rolled the window all the way down and handed them out. "I was speeding," he stated.
Light rolled his eyes.
"Yes, you were." The officer shined his flashlight on the license and then in Salt’s face. "Noticed you had out of state plates. What are doing in these parts?"
"Looking up an old friend of mine," Light said. "As you can hear I’m not from this fine country and cannot legally drive here. Big fella offered to take me."
The officer didn’t seem to appreciate Light cutting in and traded a glance with his partner. "Is that so? What’s this friend’s name?"
"Stephen," Salt said. "We are unsure of his last name-it depends on the people that hid him away."
Another glance and the officer stepped back. "Step out of the car, son."
Salt looked at the clock on the dashboard and then back to him. "I’m sorry but if I do that we will be late. We have a long way to go yet."
The officer unsnapped his holster. "Not going to ask you again. Step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them."
Salt looked at Light.
"Not on me," Light said. "You were the one with the block foot. Just keep me out of the crossfire."
Both officers drew their guns…and promptly dropped them before they could raise their arms. Salt sat calmly at the wheel, his eyes unfocused and aimed straight ahead.
The officer behind Light turned and tried to get back to his cruiser but his legs wouldn’t respond properly and he fell. His shoulder hit the back end of the car and Light heard brittle bone snap before disintegrating into dust.
At the driver side window the officer opened his mouth to scream but his vocal cords were already gone. His skin cracked apart but no blood came out. Small raisin like beans, what used to be his eyes, fell out of his skull as the nerves and muscles turned to powder. He crumbled to the ground.
Light turned the mirror down and watched as the second officer curled in on himself in one last instinctual attempt to stop whatever was happening to him. It wouldn’t work of course. Once Salt decided he wanted you dead the only thing up to you was how fast you fell.
Only minutes after the red and blue lights had come on behind the car, both officers were dead and their bodies were blowing away in the wind. Their clothes remained on the ground but all human tissue returned to the ash and dust it came from. Amen.
"Only because I like you," Light said and popped his door open. Leaning partially out, he let free his ability at the patrol cruiser. Ten small lightning bolts flew from his fingers and played over the car. Paint peeled back, lights went wild, and the horn sounded briefly before it too died.
Light kept pouring power into the cruiser. Windows cracked and then exploded. Fire ignited and it along with Light’s touch turned the car into a burned out metal husk.
"Right then." Light flopped happily back into his seat. "Americans do love their dashboard cameras-probably because they also love their illegal beatings."
Salt opened his door and retrieved his license and car documents from the ground. "Yes, we do."
Light flicked his wrist but didn’t cast so much as a spark. "Carry on."
~
Gretchen was not normally a bath person. Showers, both solo and group, were more of her preferred cleaning method. After dinner, however, she excused herself from family activities and went upstairs to run the hottest bath she could bear. It was probably high on the awful things to do on the girlfriend list to leave Elle down there to fend for herself, but Gretchen needed to get out.
Her head was pounding like it was going to explode and her heart felt like it was going to come out of her chest. If either of those things happened she figured her mom wouldn’t appreciate the mess in the kitchen.
She didn’t know why the stress was still affecting her so. The initial part was over and it hadn’t gone badly. Elle was on point and aside from almost having to explain how she died once and Claire brought her back to life nothing bad had happened.
The anxiety attacks should be over.
Gretchen gripped the sides of the tub and breathed in and out slowly. Hear that body, she thought. No more anxiety.
In response her skin shivered with cold even though she was submerged in hot water. Her teeth began to chatter.
That can’t be good, she thought.
Gretchen looked down. Through bubbles and soap film she could see the ceiling reflected in the rippling water. It wasn’t the same ceiling above her. Gretchen doubled checked but the upstairs bathroom hadn’t changed in the few years she’d been gone. It was still white with a tiny water stain and crack in the far corner.
The ceiling reflected in the water was sky blue with fake looking clouds painted on it. No, this definitely was not good.
"You’re my friend," the voice from the airplane lavatory whispered.
"I really have to stop using the bathroom," Gretchen said. Then, "Hello? Stephen? Are you here?"
"You’re my friend," it said again. "The bad men are coming. They aren’t friends."
A new kind of worry sprang up along with the seven hundred others she was thinking about. "There are bad men coming here?"
"I need to leave this place so they don’t get me. You need to make her help."
"Where are you?" Gretchen tried pushing up to a sitting position, but sharp pain shot through her head all the way down to her tailbone and made her fall back into the tub. Water sloshed over the edge and ran across the floor. "Oh God."
"Help." The voice was sounding less friendly.
"Okay, okay." Gretchen was trying to keep her breathing even but it wasn’t working. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, like she was falling asleep.
The dreams are important. She wasn’t sure if that thought was her own or not. It took focus just to tighten her grip on the tub. There was a growing gap between her body and her mind. If she didn’t act fast she was going to pass out and sink underneath the water.
"I’m going to drown," she tried to say, to reason with the voice or the force pushing against her, but the words came out as one long jumble.
Regardless it didn’t seem interested in what she had to say. "The bad men know where I am."
The pain was still there but as her mind drifted away, Gretchen felt it less. She swung her left arm over to her right on the edge of the tub. It flopped over like a limb slept on all night.
"The scary lady will kill one," Stephen said. "But that hasn’t happened yet. Easy to forget but can’t."
"Stop please," she grasped and tried to push her feet against the floor.
"I need you to remember to make it real. Remember to make it real. Understand?"
Not even a little, she thought. Heaving herself against the side of the tub, she managed to get her shoulders out of the water and over the edge. Her feet flopped a couple of times trying to find enough of a grip to send her the rest of the way to the floor.
Gretchen couldn’t even manage to turn on to her back after that. She lay on her side, listening to the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Wishing that she had mentioned the panic attack on the airplane to Elle, she finally and mercifully blacked out.
~
Elle intended to help Martin and Lillian clean up after dinner-oddly enough Lillian had already taken the trash out, making sure the discarded deli boxes were hidden-but Gretchen’s father had other plans.
"May I see you for a moment?" he asked.
"Um, okay." Elle handed the towel she had been using to Martin. He gave her an unreadable lift of his eyebrows that didn’t fill her with hope that Howard wanted to give her a merry Hanukkah gift a night early.
She followed Howard to a small den off the living room. It was clearly the Berg man cave with an overstuffed easy chair, bookshelves, and pool table.
"Would you like a drink?" He headed for a small wet bar in the corner. "I’m having one."
"Sure." Elle slipped her hands into her back pockets and looked around.
Howard fixed two scotch and sodas and handed her one. She was more of a straight up cheap whiskey kind of gal but thanked him and sipped it. "So is this the ‘what are your intentions toward my daughter’ speech?" She smiled.
"No." Howard sat in the easy chair and gestured for her to take a smaller chair across from him. "I’ve given up on speeches to my little girl’s friends. She was always the sort to go against the grain when it suited her so trying to scare off unsavories never did much good."
"Yeah, that sounds like her." The scotch went down warm and pooled nicely in her stomach. Mr. Berg did have good taste in some things, she decided.
"One thing I learned from watching her grow up," he continued, "was through all her questionable choices. Boyfriends, girlfriends, and probably whatever is in between, her mother and I could always depend on one thing.
"They always ended."
Elle didn’t say anything and kept her expression blank.
"You see, that is the thing about her. Gretchen loves to be in love and once the initial rush is over she decides that person-or persons-isn’t for her and moves on. Oh sure it lasts longer with others, but the end result is always the same." He took a deep drink. "So that is also why I don’t bother with speeches. Because I have a feeling that come next year, we won’t be seeing each other."
The desire to burn the smirk off his face and listen to him as he screamed underneath her ability was like a physical force underneath her skin. He had absolutely no idea who or what he was talking to. With great effort, Elle smothered her ability and kept it from jumping free.
"Is that it?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Howard thought for a moment. "No. I don’t like you people."
"Us people?"
"Specials, enhanced humans, or whatever you are calling yourselves these days. I don’t like you."
Elle narrowed her eyes. "Well, for some of us people the feeling is mutual."
He smiled. "I know it isn’t a PC thing to say these days, but it is true. Pundits talk about all the benefits specials can give us poor lowly nons but I’ve yet to see someone fly to a starving third world country and make crops grow with a wave of his hand. Or a weather maker plant himself on a shoreline and stop an oncoming hurricane.
"You know what I see?" He reached across the end table and pulled the evening edition closer. "A crime spree where victims are burned alive and turned to dust."
Elle caught the paper when he tossed it to her.
"You tell me why I should feel differently about your kind when that is what you give us instead of feeding hungry people."
"I don’t know." She glanced at the story and halfheartedly read some of the details. "But I get the feeling that if there were storm stoppers and crop growers you would find something wrong with them too. Because I’ve been far and wide, Mr. Berg, working for organizations your little non special mind couldn’t even begin to understand and I’ve learned a few things about your kind.
"Some times you people just like to hate things that are different than you. And right now it doesn’t get much more different than us." Elle drained her glass and stood. "Thanks for the drink."
She turned to leave but stopped at the door. "One other thing. My father wasn’t a nice man. He did bad things to both me and other people. Through it all though I loved him-I still love him. I also love Gretchen and she feels the same way about you.
"It is for that reason and no other you aren’t smeared across this floor right now. Because you are right that specials can be pretty scary. They can mess you up in ways you can’t even imagine or frankly stop. Well, just the mention of Company agents like me can make those same specials piss themselves with fear."
~
Elle stormed up to their room and slammed the door. Once she was out of sight, lightning jumped from her skin. It went to ground through the wood floor and she held back from leaving scorch marks. The satisfaction of destroying something would feel incredibly good though.
She paced the room until the worked up energy started to abate. Sitting on the edge of the bed she let free a string of curses at Gretchen’s father, none of them kind to Gretchen’s grandmother. At least Noah had a good reason for disapproving of her…and the level head to put that aside when he had to.
This being hated just because was new and Elle didn’t like it one bit.
Fantasies of what she could do to Howard Berg still danced in her head. Elle dug around in their luggage for her phone and turned it on.
Claire’s number went directly to voicemail without ringing. Either she had a good reason for turning it off-one that probably meant she was in the field-or the little curly headed chess master was blocking incoming calls for some reason.
Right now Elle didn’t like either idea.
For a moment she considered calling Noah. A word from her and he’d be in Jersey by dawn to drag Claire away from the front line by her regenerating ear. Plus she oddly enough kind of wanted to talk to him right now. Their relationship would never be sunshine and rainbows but they were ex partners and he put up with her for Claire’s sake if nothing else.
Her thumb was inching toward the contact button when a knock sounded on her door. It was to the tune of Shave and a Haircut so she had an idea who it was.
"What?" she snapped.
Martin stuck his head inside. "Should I wave a white flag?"
"Are you surrendering?"
"I don’t think so."
"Then no." She tossed the phone behind her. "Come in."
He closed the door. "So I bet that didn’t go well."
She gave him a dry smile. "What gave it away?"
"Listen…they are old fashioned." Martin scratched at his almost beard. "They’re offensive but they don’t realize exactly how much. And they don’t represent all of us nons."
"Because you’re in a support group?"
"Hey, at least I’m trying! Gotta admit that having your sister call you up to say that she’s living with two people, like living living, and oh by the way both are superhuman isn’t exactly a common occurrence. I’m doing my best."
Elle nodded and blew out a long breath. "Yeah and it is appreciated. Thanks."
"For what it is worth I think you’re pretty cool. So what if my sis is a special banger? We all got our thing."
To her amazement, that actually made her feel better. "You a psych major?"
"Nope." He puffed out his chest. "Philosophy."
"Switch."
Martin seemed to consider that. "Cool. I’m down the hall if you need to talk."
"Thanks. Night, John-boy."
After he left Elle didn’t feel like going back downstairs and fortunately the Bergs didn’t share Claire’s distaste for tvs in the bedroom. She flipped through their family friendly channel package but couldn’t find anything good on. Settling on a mindless movie she’d seen several times, Elle kicked her shoes off and waited for Gretchen to come back.
Or Claire to call. Or something. Anything would be good right about now, she thought.
The movie was half over, right in the middle of a zany adventure and comical misunderstanding, when concern started replacing annoyance.
Clicking the tv off, Elle peered out into the hallway. The Bergs were still downstairs, hopefully for the night since the master bedroom was down there too, and the second level was dark. John-boy was probably in his room studying Socrates or smoking weed. Or both.
Elle padded out to the closed bathroom door. "Doe Eyes?" She knocked but there was no answer. "If you went out the window I’m going to be pissed."
Nothing.
"Gretchen, open the door." She tried the knob and found the door unlocked. "I’m coming in."
Inside was a mess. Water splashed against her bare feet and made her instinctively flinch. The tub was still full with the faucet dripping into the now cold water. Gretchen lay on the tile floor, shivering but otherwise unmoving.
"Oh crap." Mindful of the water, Elle rushed in and grabbed a towel off the rack. She dropped down to her haunches and wrapped the towel around Gretchen. Rolling her off her side Elle gasped in shock and jumped back.
She landed with a splash and the seat of her pants was instantly soaked with bathwater.
Gretchen’s eyes were open, blinking, and milky white. Normally brown irises now covered in a distinctive and familiar film. A precog using his or her ability.
Elle stared mouth agape for several long moments. At the Company she’d seen it several times in controlled experiments and out in the field but never in…
"Gretchen?"
Sightless eyes blinked back at her.
"Oh, Jesus Christ on a stick." Elle ran her hand back through her hair. Water dripped unnoticed down her face. "This is not happening." She glanced at the open door half expecting to see Howard standing there with an execution squad. Just a dark hall though and a long way back to their bedroom.
"Okay. Okay. I have to get you out of sight." Poor choice of words, she thought. Scrambling to her feet, Elle wrapped the towel around Gretchen the best she could and pulled her up. The younger woman wasn’t unconscious just not fully present so she wasn’t dead weight.
Elle put her arm around Gretchen’s waist and walked her forward. They both left a wet trail down the hall as they traveled. "We have to get Stephen," she muttered. "They are coming for him. Remember Stephen."
Claire really, really picked a bad time to go all big city on them. Elle opened the bedroom door and guided her inside. Taking one last look around, she followed her in and closed the door.
Gretchen stood blankly in the center of the room, her hair wet and matted on one side of her head, wrapped in a towel dripping on the carpet.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Elle said. "Since when are you a-"
The Savior above decided to pick that appellation to get off his ass and respond to and knocked Gretchen out of her trance. Elle caught her shoulders to keep her from crumpling completely.
"Elle?" she rasped. "What happened?"
Moving her to the bed, Elle dropped down to her knees and turned Gretchen’s head from side to side looking at her from different angles. She wasn’t seeing or feeling what she should if Gretchen was a special. It wasn’t exact, but she could usually spot one in a crowd if she looked hard enough.
"You’re freaking me out. What happened?"
"Keep your voice down. What do you think happened?"
Gretchen hugged herself and rubbed her arms for warmth. "I…I was dreaming I think."
"About what?" Elle began stripping the bed and throwing sheets around Gretchen.
"Those same men from before. The killers on a spree."
Elle paused. "Say that again."
Gretchen blinked and shook her head, as though trying to clear it. "Those nightmares I told you about. It was them again but this time instead of breaking into a house and torturing and killing people they were driving down a road, hurrying to get somewhere in Texas."
Elle’s bad feeling got worse. By a lot. "Don’t suppose you were listening to the news just before each one of these dreams, huh?"
"No. Why? You’re freaking me out again."
"Because I think those wacky scary dreams are wacky real life. You’ve been seeing crimes that have been happening across several states."
"You mean all that"-Gretchen looked like she was going to be sick-"actually happened to those people. Oh my God."
"Took the words right out of my mouth, babe." Elle sat next to her. "And just now I found you in the bathroom with your eyes white. Like you were using an ability."
Gretchen stared at her. "I’m a-?"
"I don’t know."
"How? I’m, I mean, I’ve never-"
"I don’t know."
Gretchen looked down at her water-pruned hands like they were going to suddenly turn into fins. "What are we going to do?"
"I still don’t know."
They sat in silence for a long while, both mulling over what was happening. Finally, Elle pulled herself together and stood. She was a Company agent, she reminded herself. Like her father trained her to be. "Okay," she said. "We’re going to take control of the small things first and go up the ladder until we have a hold on everything.
"First thing, your parents can’t know until we are sure. Trust me, if this is happening then that ain’t going to go over well. You wait here and I’m going to clean up the bathroom. Then we call Claire and find you a doctor or something."
"A doctor? I’m not pregnant," she said. "At least I hope that isn’t what my power is."
"And we just found an even more uncomfortable conversation to have with mom and dad." Elle smiled and rubbed her shoulders through the sheets. "Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. It’s what we do."
Out in the hall, Elle marched back to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, thought for a second, and then walked to Martin’s door. She knocked once and then opened it.
He was reclining at his desk with big headphones on and his iPod in his lap. "Hey! You can’t just do that. What if I was watching anime porn or something?"
"I-what?!"
"Nothing." He paused the iPod. "Need something?"
Elle nodded. "I need you to man the hell up and be the best future brother-in-law in a very liberal tri-marrage state you can be. Can you do that for me?"
He climbed to his feet and tugged at the hem of his shirt. "I’m on board. What do you need?"
"Grab some towels and follow me."
They made quick work of the bathroom and Martin even offered to throw the towels in with his laundry to avoid Lillian questioning why they had gone through days of towels in one night. Elle told him everything, even about the nightmares.
"So…she’s like you now?"
Elle shrugged. "I don’t really know. I’ve seen powerful specials mess with nons before so it could be that. If she does have an ability, I don’t know why she would randomly focus on a couple of spree killers."
"So you can help her?"
"Damn right I will. Somehow."
"And if she is, then you can help her with that too?"
Elle nodded.
Martin let out a long breath and leaned against the sink. "Wow. What are the odds of this happening now? What do you even call it when one of you…blossoms?"
"There really isn’t a set name for it, and if there were it wouldn’t be that. Most people if they are going to get powers would have gotten them before her age. Like closer to no longer thinking boys have cooties."
"Yeah, that ship left the harbor for Gretchen a long time ago."
"What is it with your family and that nautical theme? Were you conceived in the navy or something?"
He shrugged. "What should I do now?"
"Go back to your cartoon porn," she said. "I have to make some calls. If there is anything else I’ll let you know."
"Oh. Tell her I love her, okay?" He turned to go but she stopped him.
"Martin, if that super liberal state ever exists, you’ll make a good, you know."
"Thanks. You’ll make a good one too."
Elle found Gretchen still on the bed, wrapped in blankets until just her head and one arm peeked out. She held her phone and she was reading a webpage on it.
"It all matches," she said. "The murders and my nightmares. Those people…I saw them die. It’s true, I’m a special."
"We don’t know what’s true yet," Elle said. "I’m going to contact Claire and Mr. Wizard next. They’ll know what to do."
"It means I have a place in another parade."
"We don’t know that yet. And if you do, then you have two people that can walk next to you there." Elle sat on the bed. "Who is Stephen? You were talking about him when I brought you back."
‘I don’t know. It’s just a name I’ve heard in my nightmares sometimes. And…on the airplane I thought I heard someone with that name speaking to me. I swear, I thought it was just stress."
Fuck me, Elle thought but said, "It’s fine. We’ll get it figured out. You should rest. I know it feels like you were asleep, but you really weren’t." She licked dry lips before continuing. "If you are a special then you just used your ability without any control for a very long time. That can be taxing on your system if you aren’t used to it."
Gretchen nodded and switched off the phone. "I’m afraid to go to sleep," she said. "I didn’t want to see that stuff before, but now that I know it is real. That those people were really calling for help while I watched and…I just can’t."
Elle rubbed her back, helpless to do more.
"Is there anyone left who can make me not have abilities?" Gretchen asked.
"Gretchen-"
"I know it’s horrible to ask, but Claire told me her grandfather could and if the rest of my life is going to be seeing people die then I would rather be normal. I’m sorry."
"You don’t have to be sorry." Elle tucked now dry hair behind her ear. "I went to him too once when I lost control."
Gretchen’s eyes were wet. "Really?"
"Yeah. Not a happy memory. He’s gone but if it comes to it-and I’m not saying that it will-then we will figure something out for you. Maybe a mental block or something." Elle stood. "In the meantime, I want you to take these." She dug in her bag until she found the same kind of pills she took on the plane.
"I don’t know. I feel wiggy enough."
"You won’t dream," Elle said, holding out a couple of pills. "A few hours of peace will do your body some good."
Gretchen finally nodded and accepted them. Elle left and returned with a glass of water. She sat cross-legged on the bed and watched as Gretchen swallowed the pills and then downed the entire glass.
"Would you like more?"
"No. It just feels like I’ve been running a marathon. Is that what it’s supposed to feel like when a special…develops? What is it called?"
"Committee is still out. It feels differently for everyone. Some barely even notice it while others go nuclear."
Gretchen smiled. "Lucky me."
"Lay back." Gretchen did as told and Elle curled up behind her. She stayed like that, listening to her girlfriend’s breathing becoming even, until she was sure Gretchen had fallen asleep.
Elle stared at the wall over Gretchen’s shoulder for a long while. She thought about all the young specials she had rounded up as an agent and those that she tried to help now. It didn’t seem right that Gretchen would just suddenly become one.
And if she wasn’t that meant someone was doing this to her.
Someone that Elle was going to make sure became very dead very soon.
She extracted herself from the bed and picked up her phone. Padding to the other end of the room, she dialed Claire. If it went to voice mail again she swore she would make good on that joke of taking Martin and the minivan to physically bring her down to Texas.
It was after midnight in New York, but Claire answered on the fourth ring. "Hello, Elle. I’m-"
"Turn the news on, Cheerleader," Elle said without preamble. "We’ve got a huge problem."
~
Claire strolled back into the living room and pointed to the series of tvs on the wall with her free hand. "Turn those up," she said. "Find as many newscasts as you can."
She was in a house filled with former resistance fighters. Not a single person paused at the odd request. Instantly they jumped into action, AAT paperwork forgotten. Molly and West changed the tvs to multiple broadcasts talking over each other, while Micah turned every computer in the room to major news websites.
Claire switched her phone over to video chat. "What are we looking for?" she asked.
"I-" Elle did a double take when the picture came up. "Why are you dressed like a sexy cat burglar?"
"Just a cat burglar," West spoke up. "The sexy just happens."
Claire closed her eyes and said a silent ‘gee, thanks’.
"And what the hell is Flyboy doing there? Micah?! What is going on?"
West waved at the screen. "It’s the Company Bitch. So nice to see you again."
"Stop it both of you." Micah peered over Claire’s shoulder. "What is going on?"
"Well, as long as the whole gang is there I’ll catch you up on my day," Elle said. "Gretchen’s dad is a jerk, her mom’s a little hot, her brother is a cool bro, and oh yeah Gretchen might be one of us now.
"I found her in the middle of a precog episode in the bathroom. Apparently she’s been dreaming about a pair of serial killers and or some guy named Stephen-that part wasn’t really clear. So how’s your day been? Catch a show while in town?"
Claire sat down hard. Micah had to catch the phone to keep it from slipping out of her hands.
"Agent Bishop," he said, "what can you tell me about the killers?"
"Just what I read in the newspaper."
"Do it." While she provided what details she could remember, he entered the information into his tablet. After a few minutes news video appeared on the tv screens. He held the phone up so Elle could see too.
The reports started in Nevada with several, at the time, unrelated break ins. At first police suspected the homeowners missing but then discovered the strange dust deposits at the scenes of the crime were the owners.
"You guys ever heard of an ability like that?" West asked.
"Yeah." Elle’s voice was tiny coming from the phone’s speaker. "A while back the Company dealt with a rogue special that could do that with his touch. Can’t be the same one though. He’s dead."
"You sure?" Claire asked. "Reports have been wrong before." And people have come back from the dead, she left unspoken.
"This one I’m sure about. You can ask Noah too but he’ll confirm it."
Micah switched to another news stream, this one from later on in the spree. The killers moved from to Nevada to Arizona and then started moving east across New Mexico.
"They’re going to Texas," Molly said.
"They’re already there," Micah said. "This report is days old."
The names and photos of the victims appeared on the screen.
"Guys," Elle said, "does anyone else notice something about them?"
"All couples?" West said. "Middle age."
Micah shook his head. "I recognize the names but not the faces from my Company files."
"Because they are deep cover identities," Elle said. "We used to keep several on active status in case we ever had to hide somebody long term. Keep a house and some bank accounts in one or two names, come up with some reason why they’d be out of the country for a while so the neighbors won’t look for them, and then just slip an agent into place without muss or fuss when needed.
"I did it myself a couple of times. Pretty easy to lay low when you don’t have a lot of resources available."
Micah nodded at the wisdom of the strategy. "One fake id and you have an instant life. Like a rental car for an entire identity. When it is time to burn it, the id just gets a U-Haul and moves to a new town and keeps the same cover. No one is the wiser."
"Wait a minute." West sat forward. "You mean those are all Company agents?"
"No," Elle and Micah said at the same time.
"I don’t recognize any of them," she said.
"That many agents couldn’t go missing without raising a lot of flags in several different agencies," he said.
"Then I don’t understand…"
Claire looked at the route they had taken, from west to east moving in an odd zigzag pattern. The towns familiar and fresh in her memory. "They are cross referencing," she said and pointed to the stack of AAT data. "That is what the Church of the Nephilim is doing. They’re buying up any Company information they can find and looking for old cover identities. The killers are working for them." She thought about all those travel expenditures from missionaries in the south.
"Why? The Company is gone. Those ids would have been mothballed a long time ago."
"Not unless they were forgotten about." Micah started typing furiously at his tablet. "Or were deep, deep cover to protect something."
"Or someone," Molly finished. "There was a Project Stephen in the church’s files, the same name Gretchen is dreaming about."
Micah started bringing data over from his cloud drive and throwing it up on one of the tv screens. "I’m already on it, Mol."
"So what does any of this have to do with Gretchen?" Claire wondered. "She isn’t part of the Church of the Nephilim and has never been involved with a Company operation. Are you sure she was precog? Maybe someone was reaching out to her?"
"I thought the same thing, Cheerleader. I’ve never once gotten the sense that she was anything but regular red blooded Homo-sapien."
"Neither have I." Claire’s voice was quiet.
Molly put her hand on Claire’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"Can I talk to her please?"
On the tiny screen, Elle shook her head. "I gave her some pills to help her sleep. Hopefully she’ll be down for a few hours. I figured we could use the time to think."
"I promise we’ll figure out what the connection is," Micah said. "And what the church wants down there. Maybe if we figure all that out it will give us some answers for Miss Berg."
"Thank you."
Claire repeated the sentiment.
"Okay, everyone, nothing is more important than this. She’s family." Micah pointed at the screen still showing the route taken by the killers. "They’ve already gotten a head start on us. We need to figure out what cold covers the Company had left in Texas and the surrounding areas. And we need to figure out how this Project Stephen fits into it all.
"West and Molly, take the Company database and cross search those names. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a list of open identities we can then look for matches in the Texas phone book.
"I’ll take Stephen. Even if it is just stories of stories, I’ll find them."
West nodded and moved to get started. "We’re going to need something stronger than tea."
"I’ll put a pot of coffee on," Molly said.
"What do you want me to do?" Claire asked.
Micah cleared his tablet and nodded his head toward her phone. "Nothing. Just go be with them. I got this."
"I want to help."
"Me too," Elle spoke up.
Micah gave them both a look. "Half of this is going to be online and the other half is going to be in my head. I’ll be faster on my own, really."
"The second you find something-" Elle said.
"I’ll let you two know immediately."
Claire held the phone to her chest with the screen facing out. "I’ll also need to get down to Texas as soon as possible."
"I’ll fly you myself if I have to," West said.
"Or you could take a plane," Elle said. "Those are fast too."
"Whichever you want," Micah said. "Go on now. I’ll let you know when we have something."
Claire carried her phone from the living room and started up the stairs. "How are you doing?" she asked Elle.
"Oh, I’m fucking perfect. It’s a merry fucking Hanukkah all around over here. I did refrain from blasting Mr. Berg into next Tuesday so my self restraint is getting better."
"Is it that bad?"
"Eh, the brother is okay."
"How is Gretchen holding up through it all?"
"Probably better than I would in her place. Strong girl."
"Yeah, she is. I’ll be there soon."
"Better be."
In her room, Claire unlaced her boots and kicked them off. Not bothering to change, she just stripped down and climbed into bed. The room was dark save for the glow from her phone. On the other side of the screen the world tilted and jostled around as Elle got into bed too.
She placed the phone on the pillow beside Gretchen and turned it to face her. Elle then wrapped her arms around Gretchen’s waist and spooned her from behind. The two specials shared a worried glance over her head from a thousand miles away.
It was a long time before either fell asleep.
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