Transient Reality

Chapter 11

Jeffery Palmer only lived approximately thirty minutes from Carey Lawhorne, although his home was most certainly not located in the opulent neighborhood of the illustrious Mr. Lawhorne. Located in the cul-de-sac of a housing development, Jeffery Palmer's home at least did not make the three Tomorrow People feel as though they had mistakenly worn blue jeans to attend brunch at a posh country club. Not feeling out of place aside, Kevin still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was "off." He was simply grateful that with Ami intuitively feeling the "wrongness" that MB took them seriously and wasn't about to storm in and do anything rash.

Which was the precise reason why they were sitting in the car, parked across the street from Palmer's house and looking for any sign of activity in the slightly overgrown garden.

"You know, from the looks of things, I think that it's safe to go in," MB said after twenty minutes of watching the house yielded nothing more than a group of pre-teens on bicycles and skateboards whizzing curiously past the car. "I don't think that he's home."

"I don't thin that he's been home for quite some time," Ami remarked. "Unless that garden is an artistic statement of some sort."

"Like what? I don't own a lawnmower or I'm too lazy to use one?"

The true meaning of the wrongness Kevin felt came to him at that moment. He shook his head, disregarding MB's characteristic banner as he narrowed his focus to stare long and hard at the house. "The house is dead."

MB turned in his seat to look back at him. He raised one eyebrow, "Kev?" There was no malice or teasing or doubt in the question.

Kevin shook his head again. "I can't explain it. The house just feels lifeless, dead. Like death. Like a morgue." Unbidden and unexplained, images flashed in his mind, images of blood, of fear, of corpses and bodies and tombstones and cemeteries. Often it was like that when he had feelings and tried hard to make sense and form associations, his brain backfired random images, background noise that he filtered out or psychic signatures he just never tried to process. His shields slid into place to protect his friends and Kevin concentrated on pushing back the flow of images and feelings.

"All right then. Thank you for that trip down morbid lane," MB turned back around in his seat and tapped his hands nervously on the steering wheel. Waves of tension and anxiety rolled off the other Tomorrow Person.

"Sorry," Kevin apologized immediately. "I didn't mean to broadcast that. I don't even know where it came from."

"Probably from the same place that made you say that the house is dead." MB gave a small shudder, making Kevin feel even more apologetic, and then, as though a switch had been switched, he straightened and glanced at his two companions. The all too familiar mischievous grin broke across his face, "So, we ready for a little bit of B&E?"

"B&E?" Ami repeated. "Please, do stop watching the crime dramas, MB." She didn't look quite like she'd totally pulled herself together from Kevin's mental leak and he instinctively reached out to brush her mind gently.

/Ami, are you all right/

/I will be. I just don't have MB's recovery time./

/I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean -- /

/Kevin. Do stop./ She cast him a gentle, reproving smile over her shoulder and broke off the mental contact. "I say we skip the illegal procedures and try a more novel approach."

"Like?" MB prompted.

Ami flashed the fake World Ex badge at him. "It worked once right?" Without waiting for an answer, she climbed out of the car and began walking across the deserted street looking for all the world like she knew exactly what she was doing.

/Of course, if that doesn't work/ Ami added as MB and Kevin scrambled from the car after her/We might have to go with the breaking and entering plan./

Ringing the doorbell yielded no answer, nor did knocking and banging on the door. After a futile ten minutes with no response and no discernible activity from inside the house, the three Tomorrow People decided to circle the house and the garden. They discovered that the grass grew even higher in the back than the front, there was a car in the garage, and a lawnmower that they opted to not test whether or not was working. Their prowling did not attract the attention of any neighbors leading them to believe that this was either a white-collar neighborhood, the sort where neighbors simply ignored anything that didn't affect them, or some combination of both.

"Dead house, Kev?" MB asked, his hand hovering over the lock on the back door.

Kevin nodded and swallowed reflexively. The feeling of wrongness was even stronger on the back porch.

MB hesitated, muttered something about Katie and there was a click. The door swung open to reveal a kitchen lit only by the bright sunlight from the outside. However, it was nearly impossible to take in any details of the kitchen as they all stepped back from the door as the smell of something horrible hit them.

/Dear God, what is that smell/ Ami sent the words telepathically, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth and nose.

/Smells like someone forgot to take out the trash. For about a month,/ MB said. He raised his arm and buried his face in the material of the suit jacket covering the crook of his arm. Face buried, he stepped across the threshold, wavered a moment and then disappeared further into the house.

/Flies/ MB reported. /There's some old food, I think it was food, here in the kitchen. This guy left in a pretty big hurry./

Kevin followed MB into the house, covering his face in the same manner and discovering that it only made the smell slightly more bearable. The way that smearing fresh manure under your nose would make the smell of skunk more bearable, which was to say that it wasn't bearable at all. Still the faster they searched Palmer's house and figured out what happened to him, the faster they could leave. And maybe with any luck they might actually find out what happened to Katie and Jake.

He noticed that Ami did not follow them inside and neither of he nor MB begrudged her the right to stand outside in the fresh air.

Fast on MB's heels, trying hard not retch, the sudden, jarring wave of repulsion and horror that slammed into Kevin made him stumble to a halt and nearly plow into his friend. Fortunately, he had the foresight to realize that MB was stumbling blindly backwards away from the room he'd just peered into – the room where the smell was even stronger – and managed to catch and steady them both before they landed on the floor.

/What's wrong/ Ami's mental voice came through shrilly, laced with so much tension and fear that it made every hair on Kevin's body stand on end. /What's happening/

/Stay outside. Just stay outside./ The words were an order from MB, not a request. He grabbed Kevin by the arm and without further words simply teleported them both back onto the porch.

MB managed to stumble down the porch stairs and make it to a tree in the far corner before leaning over and retching.

/MB/

/He's dead. Jeffery Palmer is dead./

Carey Lawhorne steepled his fingers together as he listened with growing annoyance to the voice coming through the speakerphone. His fingers sorted through the faxes spread across his desk, faxes confirming the non-existence of two of the supposed World Ex agents whom had visited his home earlier. The third agent looked nothing like his photograph, so that raised the question of who precisely his visitors were and how they had information about The Project.

"Am I to understand that three agents from some unknown organization managed to somehow elude your best agents, Mr. Tarkiff?" Lawhorne cut into the man's rambling, glaring at the speakerphone as though he could transfer his ire to the man on the other end by sheer force of will.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lawhorne. We found the rental car and it's being swept for fingerprints. But as I stated, no one saw the targets leave the rental agency after returning the car."

"And no one observed them making a 911 call upon leaving Palmer's home?"

"No, sir."

"And is anyone going to explain to me why Palmer's body was left in such a state where it could actually be found and possibly traced back to the organization?"

"Palmer's death was arranged to look like a suicide. That's the reason his body wasn't moved. It was believed that his neighbors would have heard the gun shot and called the police weeks ago."

"You didn't follow up." It was not a question.

"A suicide is an open and shut case. Any meddling or follow up on our part might have raised suspicion."

Lawhorne closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. He held it for a count of three then released it slowly through his mouth. "Instead we now have a rogue or unknown government or outside agency meddling in our business. You were sloppy, Tarkiff and I don't like sloppy.

"How far along is Dr. Denning?"

"I believe she is ready to begin." Tarkiff sounded relieved to be able to discuss something a bit more pleasing to Lawhorne.

"Then I strongly suggest you begin. Because the next time I speak with you, I want some good news."

"Yes, Mr. Lawhorne."

"Oh, and Tarkiff?"

"Yes?"

"Find me those supposed agents."

-- End of Chapter Eleven --