“We can get by,” Kail snaps out as I’m about to say hold on, let’s check what’s in the pantry. His hands fidget on mine. For some reason, he’s restless.
“I’ll sneak back with milk, and stuff, if you need it. Text me.” Molly waves, and she and Ron exit, though Ron soon wheels back in with the house and car keys. I swap those for the Chevy’s with some reluctance.
We’re alone for all of thirty seconds before Melody returns holding a black zipped-up case she places on the table.
“This shouldn’t hurt at all.” She rummages and picks out a pair of small scissors and what must be the tool for removing staples. “Here.” She brings over a simple wooden chair. “I need you at my height and still.”
“I can be still.” Kail sits then holds up his left hand. “Also, this. Can you put some stitches in this finger, just to keep it in place. Someone bit it.” He peels the tape from the finger then manipulates it to show a gap at one edge. “Don’t worry. It’s healing fast.”
“Whoa.” She checks his face. “You can heal that? Looks as if it was severed. I can stitch it but there is also a chance of infection and?—”
That wound must be from my attackers. “It’s only been twenty-four hours since it happened.” I peer at it. He never said.
“Right.” Now Melody is the one looking pale. “I can stitch it, just don’t say where this finger came from. I can see it’s not the original one for that hand. The nail doesn’t match, for starters.”
Fuck.Where did he get that from?
I press my lips together. Kail says nothing. His mouth tenses. The curved needle sinks into his flesh and she begins to add sutures to a finger he must have found somewhere. On a dead guy. One ofthosedead guys, I assume. It was not like that when I first met him. I should have noticed. Guess I was too busy having Os…or almost Os.
“By the way, that cat.” Tilting her head, Melody indicates a direction without pausing in her surgery. “Is not a cat.”
In the corner sits Squiggle Cat, eyes wide, quiet and seemingly happy to observe us. It must have found an open window or door. “Yes? What about him.”
“It’s not a real cat.” She halts and gets eye contact before continuing.
“Say what?”
“I saw it walk in. It has no butt hole. Therefore, not a cat. Chalk it up to weirdness from the LHC until further notice. Doesn’t look dangerous though…” She punches in the needle, drags it out, quickly ties it off. “I would give my left kidney for a tissue sample from it.”
“I’m not volunteering.” I do the rapidhands waving in front of mething to show how much I amnotinto this.
“Me neither,” Kail grunts out.
“Damn.” Melody says. “Did it hear me? It’s gone anyway.”
Squiggle is not a cat?
On this day of days, this week of revelations, a cat that’s not a cat will have to wait its turn.
Clay Skinner
Some noise wakes me and I jerk awake, realize what it was, find the phone on the table beside my armchair and thumb it open while yawning. Multi-tasking I am good at.
Still yawning I read what Cannon has sent.
CANNON: We have cracked the card, sir. It’s quite a find. Best if you come down here so I can show you. Your office?
CLAY: Sure.
The Porsche rumbles as I launch it down the driveway and turn left onto the winding road toward the institute. The hills are a pleasure to drive through in daylight. At night, they’re plain creepy, dark, deserted. The stars are distant and few. No moon, either. The nearest neighbors are a quarter of a mile from my land, and they’re overseas right now. I must appropriate a few institute security guards to patrol my fenceline. Until now, I have had little need for protection. With a franken-fucking-struct out there…
Four guards would be better. I’ll hire some extras.
Once I check in, swipe my card, and greet the two guards keeping the institute safe at night, I stalk toward my office along silent corridors with no other footsteps echoing. I should’ve had one of the guards accompany me to my door.
Cannon waits at the door but says nothing.
“Spill,” I tell him, hitching my ass on my desk. “Need the laptop spun up?”
