for June

26. The Ticking Clock

Chad sat on the sofa as instructed. A wayward spring dug into his ass. He eyed Cassie as she continued rummaging through a bag, distracted. If Chad was brave, he could go for the gun levelled at his crouch, not that it had been her initial aim. If he was so bold, he could knock her out with the hilt to the temple and run across to neighbours for help. Better yet, call the police. He'd seen it done many times in films. It was probably doable.

He eyed her, her bag, and then the gun in her small hand, too preoccupied with whatever she was looking for. This was his moment. He could go for it, he could. He tensed, ready to coil into action. However, as he lifted off the sofa, the spring squeaked.

"Shit!" He mouthed as Cassie's head snapped in his direction like a viper, the gun aimed back at his torso.

He shuffled on the seat as if he were trying to get comfortable. "There's a spring digging in," he managed.

Cassie smiled at his discomfort, lowering the gun back to his groin. "I always hated that couch. I told Ma to throw it out years ago. It doesn't go with this house."

Nothing goes with this decrepit house, not even you, you crazy loon. He plastered a nervous smile on his face.

"God, I've missed you!" she blurted, one hand back in the bag, searching.

He swallowed. Maybe he could distract her long enough for her mother to walk in on them. "This is your Ma's place? Nice. I haven't seen her in what, four years. How is she?"

"What pipe are you smoking?" She laughed, pulling a loaded syringe from the bag.

"Your Ma?" Chad continued, distracted by the giant needle. What the hell is that? His heart skittered like a nervous child.

"Ma? Oh, you're not gonna see her around anymore." She shoved the syringe towards his face with a nudge. Take it.

Chad gave her a pleading look, hoping for mercy. Instead, she shoved it in his hand and stepped back. With both hands on the gun, she kept a steady aim in the general vicinity of his heart.

"It'll immobilise you so you can't try something stupid, like run." She sat on the edge of the table, watching him. "Go ahead, take it. It won't kill you."

Ha! Famous last words. Chad rolled the object in his hand. Trying to spot any labels that could tell him what poison was in the tube. That's when the word 'immobilise' popped back in his mind.

"What do you mean immobilise?" He eyed her, keeping his voice calm and not laced with panic or accusation.

"I don't know. I'm not a chemist, am I?" She shrugged. "I heard them discussing how it paralysis someone temporarily. So I swiped it. Thought it might come in handy."

"Them who?" he asked in alarm. Cassie had many 'them' in her books and some of those people didn't even exist.

"I don't know!" her voice rose a pitch higher, irritated. "Doctors, I suppose, you know, the ones in scrubs. Now stop wasting time. I need to pee."

Doctors? Chad's mind raced. She'd stolen an unknown paralytic doctors' used during procedures? Procedures such as surgeries where at least half a dozen people with medical training and life support gear surround you in case things went wrong. Not a deranged woman with no medical knowledge.

Paralysis? Chad's head snapped back to science lessons in school and first year of university when he had dabbled with the thought of completing a Bachelor of Science. Paralysis only occurred when neurons couldn't signal muscles any longer because the pathways were damaged or blocked.

God only knew what was in the syringe, and there was no way he wanted it in his body. It was not the way he, nor tabloid inducing Zachary Eve, wanted to go, paralyzed and unable to breathe, on the floor of a random house in a random suburb, dying at the feet of a crazy woman he'd invited into his life seven years ago. What a young, stupid fool he'd been when fame came knocking.