Just the way Mom used to make it...
In the quiet morning hours, those still moments before the dawn, we arrived at Michelle’s home. The street lay motionless, hushed by the cool breeze. Shalaly’qua cut the engine and we climbed out of the car. I reminded them to stay quiet, a finger to my lips, understanding nods were given. The door was open, just as I had left it. A foul stench rolled from the interior as I opened the front door. The messy kitchen lie just beyond the foyer, fuming its noxious fragrance. I took lead to her office, that which with walls bore her disturbed writings.
“Y-yo, man, uhh… is she okay?” Shalaly’qua shuddered.
“Certainly not.” I said, booting up her desktop computer.
“Take Care Of The Little Ones.” She read aloud, struggling through the barely legible scribbling. Little… ones? I thought to myself. “Hey, I ate some of that shit, T. She’s crazy, isn’t she, from that shit she tried it feed us?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much, Shalaly’qua. There isn’t anything we can do about it now.”
“That ain’t what I need right now, man.” She was visibly shaken.
“IF ANYONE IS GONNA GO CRAZY ITS ME SHAY I ATE A WHOLE LOT MORE THAN YOU DID!” Tom shouted between shallowed breaths.
“We don’t know that! Shut up.” I opened up Outlook, and browsed through her recent emails with Anders Wirén. She was in contact with him the night her home was broken into. He wanted to know how much product she had still and perhaps she could bring it back in for ‘fresh stuff’. I recon he believes it to be dangerous, and isn’t going to be ‘renewing’ her supply. There was a draft saved saying she would be happy to bring back ‘that frozen junk’, after the weekend with her Mother. I turned around, “Alright. Were going to Mom’s house.”
“Where is that?” “Who?” They said in unison.
Good Questions from my companions, indeed. I searched the desk for perhaps an address book. Considering her age, she may well have a hard copy of such a thing. Without much effort, I lifted a brown leather, probably a faux-leather, book from a side file drawer. ‘Contacts’ read a label on the cover. The convenience caused a wide smile to appear, not only on my face, but Tom’s as well. Shalaly’qua was still staring at the schizophrenic rambling.
“What’s her mom’s name?” Tom leaned in, looking at the book I opened, “You know, I don’t think she’s married.” I flipped back to the A’s, scanning for Anders. “Hey, look!”
“Beatrice Anders?”
“Yeah, she’s local… if Michelle took off on foot, and is as deranged as she appears to be, AND she hasn’t been picked up by the police or something, She’s not making it out of town.”
“I’m putting you in for an ArCom, Thomas.”
“Arcom?” He said, confused.
“Nevermind…” I turned back to the monitor, “I’m going to send out this draft to his last email and then we’ll head out.”
“What are the odds?”
“Low.”
“Do you think she’s even alive?”
I sighed, “I’m trying to be optimistic.”
“Do you think she’s being hunted, too? That.. ugh, bug bear thing?”
“Yes. Fortunately, we're better prepared now. It isn’t a Bugbear, though, that’s a different creature entirely.” I pulled out the device stolen from the assassin, “Now, if only…” I was confounded by a simple password protected screen lock.
“Don't you got some high-tech bullshit for that?”
“Yeah, let me just hack into it really quick with my password finder device.” I said, staring at her blankly. The morning sun peered out behind cloud. Shading my eyes, I continued, “We’re almost there. If she’s not, her Mom should be. Up there, on the left. 1994 Calgene.” The car pulled to a stop in front of a unassuming suburban home.
“Yeah, that’s what I expected... looks like my 90 year old great grandma’s house. A 50’s time capsule.”
“Everything seems normal. Let’s go check it out. Perhaps her sweet granny is baking cookies?” I don’t eat cookies, personally, but Tom is the type of guy to appreciate something like that.
We approached the door. There was a shadow behind the curtains to what was probably the living room, and as I rose my hand to knock, the door flew open.
“HEY! How are you?” Michelle stood their glowing in delight.
“Woah, uh, we’re alive and well, are you…?”
“I'm great. I feel great.” Her eyes were wide. I was uncomfortable with her jubilance. I gestured to come inside, “Oh! Yeah, hurry. I have someone for you to meet!” I hoped desperately that she meant her alive and unharmed elderly mother. I was relieved.
“MOM!” There was someone in the kitchen. It sounded like they were putting dishes away. “Come on in, guys, thanks for coming. Are you hungry?”
“Smells, uhhh, interesting.”
“INTERESTING?” Shalaly’qua held her nose. Tom nodded in agreement, “don't tell me you can’t smell that shit.” She whispered to Tom.
“No, I can. He’s right, it is interesting.”
“You can't tell me that shit smell good, bro, damn.” She lightly gagged.
“The world isn’t black and white, Shay.” She was angrily confused.
“It's actually, ‘Red and Green’.” I responded. They both then looked angrily confused at me. They don’t know.
We entered the kitchen to see it pleasantly organized, amid the unpleasant smell. She looked much like Sophie from the Golden Girls, to avoid a detailed description of her. After Michelle introduced us, she turned around, bewildered. “Shelly, you didn’t tell me your friends would be stopping by this early.”
“I told you they were coming over?” Michelle asked. “I don’t think I knew that. How would I have told you that?”
“You will just have to share, Shelly.” Grandma Beatrice pulled out a baking sheet from the oven. There appeared to be biscuits on it. I took notice to the timer on the oven with about 5 minutes remaining.
“Oh, no, momma, not yet.” Michelle hurried over, taking the pan away. “5 more minutes.” I watched her put the pan into the oven without an oven mitt. She was also shaky. “They we’re hardly even cooked, Mom!” In that time, I pinpointed the location of that lingering stench to a large stainless steel bowl on the counter.
“So, what are you making?” I walked toward her casually, getting in sight of the Bowl's contents.
“Home-style Country Biscuits and Gravy… a new recipe.” She smiled, gleaming toward the same bowl I was approaching. I slowly looked down into the bowl. Wide-eyed, I looked back up.
“Blood maggots, Michelle? Yummy…” She nodded gleefully, “I have actually come to remind you of your meeting with Anders. Do you know if he will be coming here, or will you be meeting him somewhere else?”
“My meeting?”
“Yes. He asked to have your left-over frozen ground blood maggot product returned. You said that you would be happy to do so…”
“Oh, yes. That is right.” She recollected, “there were intruders. I escaped. I took to the back road and evaded capture. My rival is very upset at my recent work. Jealous.”
“Have you been assailed since then? Perhaps seen anything else?”
“I ran off. I came here. My mom isn’t a trained Chef, but is a chef nonetheless. She was much needed. I am, umm, tired. I'm fuzzy sometimes. I work hard.” She seemed out of breath.
“Shelly, the gravy is ready for the sausage.”
Snatching the bowl, she said, “when I’m at the restaurant, I have a sous chef. I love him. I cannot stress enough the importance of a competent Sous Chef.”
“Your meeting?” I reminded again.
“RIGHT!” She yelled, upset at herself. “I’m sorry. This is important. That is important. Uhh…sigh. I will go. I’ll get it. Ummm, the thing.”
“The frozen Blood Maggot?”
“Yes. That.” I turned to follow, “No, no… Umm, s-stay here.” Backing up to the basement door, she continued, “I-I, ummm… it’s m-messy.” She shuffled into the door, closing it behind her.
“Uhh, yeah, she got something down there. That’s how my stupid brother actin’ when his dopehead friends be over.”
“Hey, take her in the other room to e-mail Anders, and I'm going down to check it out. Tom, don’t let Nana eat that.” The door opened and Michelle lifted up a bag of brownish red frozen material.
“Found it.”
“Say, Michelle… Let’s go let him know you're ready to meet up?” She pulls out a smartphone, “oh, uhh, wanna go sit down in the living room? You look like you could use a rest, huh?” Shalaly’qua petitioned.
“You know, I’ve been around all morning… haven’t even had my coffee.” She said.
Shalaly’qua gestured to the living room, “hey, honey, why don't you just go in there and I'll get you a fresh cup?”
“That sounds great, thank you.” Michelle shuffled out of the room. Shalaly’qua winked at me and poured up a coffee mug.
Tom spoke up, “so, Beatrice…”
“You can call me Granny.” She smiled. Shalaly’qua left the kitchen, “your negro friend is very sweet. I’m so happy you youngins can move past our silly differences.” Tom tried to speak up, but was cut off, “I’m sure you get condescending looks from her parents, but don't let them tell you who you can love!” I slowly backed-up towards the door.
“W-we’re not… together.” Tom stuttered.
Beatrice looked shocked and upset, “so, she’s only good enough for you when no one is looking?” Thomas was floored. “I’m disappointed in you, Thomas.”
I rushed down the stairs, into the dark. The smell was potent. I brushed over the wall at the landing for a light switch. Nothing. I was able to make out a path with a pale light from a window well across the basement. I heard a freezer humming near me. I walked near it and felt a light string touch my face from above. “Here we go.” Click-click.
I pulled the string and a fluorescent light blinked on, illuminating the basement, to my horror. Pods covered the floors and walls of the entire room. They twitched and shivered. A bluish green mist blanketed the ground, burped from holes in the pod biomass. The pods ranged, in size and shape, from a golf ball to football. The pods looked leathery and wet, with a rusty brown sheen and metallic fleck. It was then I came to answer why she was referring to Anders’ product as ‘that frozen stuff’. There had to have been a kill step that wasn’t successful. I’m not an Entomologist, but these pods are probably early in its life cycle…
“Tellurius, uhhh… we emailed him!” Shalaly’qua called from upstairs. I rushed upstairs to find that Michelle was in the kitchen waiting.
“You better not have hurt my babies!” She shouted at me.
“You tried to hide a colony of blood maggots from me, Michelle. Do you have any idea what you have been breeding?” I shouted in return.
“It’s not like I just let them roam free! When they come from their eggs, I toss all but a few into my hamburger grinder and when the few have embedded more children, I grind them, too!”
“You need to take us to Anders immediately, Michelle. These things are dangerous. What are you going to do if they get out? There’s no corking that bottle.” She started to pace around the room, “Are you hearing me?”
“YES!” she sobbed, “my babies wouldn’t hurt anyone… they don’t even have eyes! Please… I’m building a cook book. I will be famous!”
At this point, I figured lying to her and saying her ‘children’ would be safe if she took me to Upstart would be a great route. She’s clearly delirious and we should be back in time to destroy that colony. I don’t think she will be cooperative if I torch them now. Additionally, lingering here any longer will give our tag-a-long time to catch-up.
“Okay, knock off the crying. If you keep them locked in your basement, we will leave them alone.” A chime sounded from the assassin’s device, interrupting our discussion. There was a pop up display that read a message in an unfamiliar language. I took a picture, just before it fell behind the screen lock. “Okay, our late friend is probably being asked where he is right now by a fellow assassin. On our way out, I’ll try to decipher this message. Anyone need a bathroom break?”
“I do, excuse me. I’ll need my purse as well.” Michelle hustled off to her room. I should check that purse to make sure it’s not full of blood maggots.
“I could go for breakfast, actually… NOT biscuits and gravy.”
“Oh, yeah… right.” I need to be more sensitive to the needs of my associates, I suppose. “We’re stopping at the gas station. Let’s go.” Tom looked disappointed. There is nothing wrong with gas station food.
We walked to the car, waiting for Michelle to join us. “She’s kind of weird, though, doesn’t seem insane or anything. Her Mom is crazy though.”
“I wonder… hopefully, it’s more of a poison than an infection. If we knew exactly what these creatures are…”
“That ol’ lady is the crazy one? You could’a helped her with the email instead.”
“She called you a negro then called me a racist when I said I wouldn’t date you.”
“What? What do you mean ‘you wouldn’t date me’?” She glanced at me. Tom was shocked. I don’t believe he was breathing at all. “What, is there something you don’t like about a strong Negro Woman?” She got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Tom stood thunderstruck. I climbed in, looking at her. A grin stretched on her face. She turned and winked at me, starting the car.
Michelle comes stumbling out of the front door, hurrying to get to the car. Tom slid over after opening the door. “Whew… Okay, let’s go drop of this junk!”
“Where to?” Shalaly’qua threw the car into drive, “after I get some gas.” She paused for a moment, “you, uhh, are you gonna spot me for it? I mean…”
“You can expense it.”
“What that mean?”
“Nevermind. I’ll pay for it. I’m going to need some quiet while I translate this message. It was important enough to send…” This language appears to be more akin to Japanese or Chinese rather than English. Well, it’s probably more like a string of Emojis. The easy part was determining which language it was. “Agmendarin.” I’m not much familiar with this but the symbols are recognizable. I begun to assemble the meaning as we pulled into the station. “We can’t linger too long.” I reminded them. Finding myself alone in the vehicle, I concluded its meaning, to my concern. Our friend hadn’t asked where we were, but…
“Okay, are we all set back there? Thanks for the cash, T.”
“Listen. These people are looking for a Poacher or Thief and this one believes to have found him.”
“Poacher?”
“Yes. Grushka,” I suspect being the name of the one I torched, “I discovered the place where Poacher is.” I read literally, “I am in route.” I think our meeting with Anders will have a guest appearance. “We have to hurry.”