Murder in the Magic City by G.P. Sorrells (e books for reading TXT) 📕

from his chest. Instead, he immediately pivoted and punched Christensen in the face with a haymaker. The blow sent the man into the tank, head first. His body slid to the ground with no reflexive move to slow his descent. With his pistol drawn, Micah approached the man cautiously. One step, two steps, silence. Everything pointed to the man being knocked out cold. And then he lunged forward. Micah fired one shot and watched Christensen drop to the ground for good.

That won’t be good for business. There’s no way the other guard didn’t hear that.

Micah quickly patted down Christensen, searching for anything worthwhile on his person. A wallet and a keyring. The wallet had a few store credit cards, some stamp cards, and fifty bucks. His saving grace, however, was a single key on the keyring that looked different from the rest. It was short and stout, with a plastic label over the head that read ‘Locker 22’ in blue letters. Micah pocketed the keys and put the wallet back into Christensen’s pocket. He paused for a moment.

The world around him was still silent, save for the whistles of Lolita. She now roamed closer to the edge of the enclosure; her eyes seemed to investigate the area beyond for a sign of her master. Perhaps she knew something was wrong. Certain he was alone for a little while longer, Micah lifted Christensen’s body and walked up a nearby flight of stairs. He stopped when he was at the top of the enclosure, looking out across the dark water and to the stands surrounding it. He rested Christensen’s body on the edge of the tank, the man’s head lolling about to the side. It sat there for a moment, like a creepy doll on the verge of becoming a dog’s chew toy. Then Micah gave the body a nudge and watched as it disappeared into the depths.

Chapter 26

Sheridan’s surgery took only a few hours to complete. He had been a consummate patient thanks to the heavy dose of sedatives administered to him in the lead up to his body being altered. The low-level nodes were implanted into his body with little issue. Mostly, all it took to put them in place was a small slice with a scalpel and a screw to adhere the node to the nearest bone. The larger nodes in his brain proved to be a bit more challenging, though that had been the expectation going into the procedure.

The room was quiet when Sheridan’s eyes finally parted. Mallory milled about, checking the machines situated around his bed for updates on his vitals, and that of the nodes. She had to report back to Dr. King if anything looked outside of the ordinary. Not that such a thing existed in this instance. She was scribbling a note on her clipboard when she heard a strained grunt from the bed next to her.

“Good morning, Mr. Sheridan,” she said cheerily.

“Wh… h… whe…” came the garbled response.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Mallory said. She grabbed a glass of water from the table resting over Sheridan’s bed and handed it to him, careful to position the flexible portion of the straw in such a manner that he could easily sip the liquid.

Sheridan took a long drag of the water. His mouth felt quite a lot like he imagined it would feel had he walked through a desert for days without a canteen. He briefly wondered if he could ever produce saliva again. Then he took another slurp, and the water had an almost cooling effect. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

“How did… everything go?”

“Wonderfully,” Mallory said with a Cheshire grin. She tucked the clipboard behind her and deposited the pen in the front pocket of her scrubs. “You’re expected to make a speedy recovery.”

“How long do I need to stay in this bed?” Sheridan weakly attempted to prop himself up on an arm.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mallory said, deftly approaching and helping him to lie back down. “You still need your rest. I’m going to step outside for a moment, but someone should be with you shortly to give you your next set of medication.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Certainly,” Mallory replied. She turned on a dime and walked out of the room.

Sheridan laid on the bed for a few moments, not in pain so much as a constant state of soreness. He could feel where the incisions were made and subsequently sewed up, though he couldn’t see any trace of foreign objects. As the moments passed on, the pounding in his head grew more severe. He took another sip of water and fell back onto the pillow, groaning.

As if on command, the door swung open and the other nurse walked in. His face was sullen. Sheridan wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he didn’t get a foreboding sense of doom from the man’s body language, just a feeling that he wanted to be anywhere but in that room. The man walked over to Sheridan’s bed and handed him a cup. There were a few pills inside, but it looked like the sort of oddball candy treat you’d see at a Halloween party store.

“Mr. Sheridan, I need you to take these pills for me. We’ve got to get you prepared for your next step.”

“My next step? What are you talking about…?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Please take your medication. The rest will be over with soon enough.”

Sheridan reluctantly swallowed the pills and stared at the man before him. Though trust was the last thing he felt, he knew there wasn’t much in the way of options in his current state. A paper bag would likely put up a better fight. He envisioned himself leaping off the bed at the nurse, throwing a few punches before bolting out the door. The reality would likely involve him plummeting to the vinyl flooring underneath the gurney like the town drunk. And then his world became hazy. He was living through it