The Millennial Box by Julie Steimle (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

partner reached in his coat for his gun.

Jeff stepped barely from the wall, watching Zormna prepare to defend herself and the agents together fuming in such a furious way that they were more than willing to duke it out with a known martial artist. Jeff raised his hands in protest to stop it. "I only said properly because I know who would have done this."

"Properly!" Simms shrieked, swinging back for a punch. Only Zormna stood between the two, preparing to stop him.

Jeff's back still pressed against the cabinet.

Simms gritted his bared teeth, ready to strike. "What do you think they were that anything like this is done properly?"

Agent Sicamore rushed in over and grabbed his agent's arm to help calm him down, sneaking a look to Agent Keane to help. Agent Hayworth did not appear so inclined to aid them.

"Those men were my friends! My friends!" Simms yelled, held back now by Keane and Sicamore. All four agents glowered down on Jeff. It seemed it was Zormna's presence that really stopped them from acting on their desire to just smash the boy.

Jeff straightened his jacket with an exasperated breath. Zormna huffed and pulled the cloth over the man's prone body, closing the drawer. She looked to Jeff.

"I think we've seen enough," Agent Keane said. He backed toward Steele, who was already pulling out the last drawer and peeling back the cloth.

Zormna shook her head, pointing at the open drawer. "Look at the other one. He was probably shot right in his forehead too." She gazed up at Steele. "Is he?"

The man nodded, peering up at her. His mouth ran in a thin line, his eyes revealing critical wonder at her - less of a leer there.

Jeff straightened his jacket again and took another breath. He did not go to that body this time.

"And does he have other wounds? You know, something else killed him first?" Jeff asked.

Steele nodded.

Agent Keane peeked at the body. Frowning, he looked back at their two 'Martians'. "What do you know?"

Jeff sighed while exchanging looking with Zormna. She raised her eyebrows.

"Kai'op em tell'om ne'eme[1]?" she asked.

Jeff nodded reluctantly.

Zormna looked at the agents and said, "Taren's Kalregg."

"What?" Sicamore exclaimed.

Jeff nodded. "That's People's Military - only I don't think it's them."

"The who?" Agent Sicamore asked again, eyes narrowing.

With exhaustion, Zormna sighed and looked at Steele. "Please cover that body."

The gristly man peered down at the corpse. He covered it and shoved the drawer closed.

"The People's Military is like the KGB, only worse. They're kind of like you guys actually, only very, very brutal," Jeff explained, leaning his back against the cabinets.

Agent Sicamore nodded to himself. He had heard some things about them, but he had not said anything to the others about the secret details he had gotten from his private source. He looked to the other agents to see if they understood.

They hadn't quite. The other agents appeared confused.

Zormna could tell that too. "The People's Military are trained soldiers, not police or the army. They are regulatory officials, a break-off from the Surface Patrol, and they - "

"Hold it," Steele broke in, "What is this? What are you talking about?"

They all looked at him.

Jeff smirked then gazed at Sicamore. "You don't tell him much at all, do you Agent Sicamore?"

Sicamore closed his eyes and pinched his forehead. "Ok, ok." He turned to Steele. "I'll brief you on the detailed history when it is convenient." Turning to Zormna, he said, "I want to know about who killed these people."

Zormna looked at Jeff and said, "It's your theory."

Jeff nodded. Looking at Agent Simms, Jeff explained, "Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was saying that those men whom Zormna could tell just from looking at the vehicle were lousy shots, did not do the job properly."

He looked at Simms carefully. Simms flared up, but the others kept him from smashing Jeff into the wall.

Jeff continued, "...as a People's Military officer is trained to do. A People's Military officer's aim is extremely good. They pride themselves on it. If your killers had been P.M.s, the van would not have been shot up at all, and each man would have only one wound - a bullet right in the head. Fact is, if it had the People's Military, they would have even taken the bodies afterwards and dumped them into some alligator marsh or something to get rid of the evidence, considering where we are."

Agent Sicamore blinked. "So you're saying...?"

"This is a copycat." Jeff knocked on the cabinet door. "They were amateurs."

"I don't get it," Steele murmured. "Who are these P.M.s and why would anyone want to copy them?"

Jeff lifted his eyebrows. "That's a good question. First off. No one in the U.S. knows about the P.M.s, except for an exclusive few. And secondly, those that do know about them, even fewer would want to mimic them."

"Perhaps someone was trying to place blame on those, what do you call them, P.M.s? What then?" Agent Keane said.

Zormna shook her head. "Get real. Who'd know to blame them?"

"Your people. Your specific people. The ones you and Zormna, hang around," Keane said.

She laughed. "My people? You mean the military I'm with?"

Jeff rested his fist against his mouth and bit back a thought.

"Oh, please. My 'people' as you call them," Zormna said disdainfully, "would be too busy with other matters. Once emigrants are here, as long as they keep their mouths shut and keep out of home politics, are pretty much left on their own. They are left to the law enforcement of the countries they choose to live in. I dare say the only thing 'my people' would care about is getting that box back. And they would not do it like a robbery. We're more careful. It would just end up lost in transition."

Agent Simms' face tightened as he heard her speak. "Lost?"

She smirked. "Misplaced. And untraceable.

"No. Someone who admired the P.M.s did this. I mean, really, who would care to take the effort to shoot each man in the head? I have only heard of one kind of case that they would shoot like this, and...." Zormna stopped. Her face quickly paled. She looked away and she wouldn't say anymore. In fact, she looked like she wanted to vomit.

Jeff tried to put his arm around her, but she shook it off. She looked up.

"Unless they were desperate to murder the individuals, forget the box, then they'd shoot all out. I doubt the P.M.s have a personal vendetta against those specific agents of the FBI." She looked to Agent Simms and pointed back at Jeff. "So don't take it out on him, because he didn't do it and neither did I."

"Why would they possibly think it was you? You can't even look at the bodies," the bounty hunter murmured.

"But he could look," Agent Simms said, still glaring at Jeff. He had an expression like he was tasting motor oil.

Jeff sighed and stared at the floor. He glanced up at him. "Yeah, well, I've seen the P.M.s' handiwork before. I've lost a lot of people I care about. This nothing new to me." With that, he walked away from the cabinet to Zormna. "Come on, Zormna, I think we've seen enough. I think we can do the rest."

Agent Sicamore looked after them. "That's it? Who are they? What do you know?"

Jeff turned back and gazed at the exhausted looking FBI agent. "I told you all I know. Think, Sicamore. Use your source. Who would admire the P.M.s? Our enemies, for one," pointing to Zormna and himself. "Your source might give you some clue as to who has the box because they would be the closest to them."

He turned again, walking to the doors. Zormna tiredly following on his heels, only passing him as they went through the door. Jeff glanced back at the FBI agents just before leaving. "Maybe we'll have another unholy alliance sometime."

The four FBI agents stared after both teenagers. To be honest, they had learned more about that pair in that brief moment than during either of their interrogations under sodium pentothal.   

"So," said Steele, breaking the deathly silence Jeff left in his wake. "Are you going to tell me who these 'people' are and what that girl meant by Surface Patrol? Hmm?"

Agent Keane glanced at Agent Sicamore, who took a deep breath. One thing was for certain, they had to leave the 'alien' detail out of it.

 

 

[1] Should we tell them?

Chapter Seven: The Word Around Campus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Always obey your parents, when they are present.

This is the best policy in the long run, because if you don't they will make you."

 - Mark Twain -

 

 

Jeff and Zormna arrived back in Pennington on Friday. They rode into town at around five o'clock, exhausted and achy - stopping briefly by the burger place Zormna worked at to see if everything was all right. She had arranged replacements to take her shifts for the week, but she was still nervous that they might not have shown up. To her relief, they had. Jeff then took her to the McLenna's home by six (just after a meal at Roller Burger). He walked her to the door.

It was much colder in Pennington than in Orlando. Zormna kept wrapping her arms about herself to keep warm, despite the heavy biker jacket she wore. She watched her breath blow out in puffs. When they reached the front door, she turned to Jeff and nodded to start her good-byes.

"I'm coming in with you for a second," he said.

Zormna rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. The McLennas, no doubt, would be furious at her for vanishing for a week. She knew Jeff was there to make sure they did not react too violently.

She grabbed a hold of the doorknob and tried to turn it.

It stuck.

Jerking on it more, it didn't budge. She realized then that it was locked. Looking at Jeff a moment, Zormna walked over the frosty grass to the carport to see if anyone was home. The McLennas' car was there. She walked right back to the front door and tried the knob again.

"You don't have a key?" Jeff asked.

Glaring at him sideways, Zormna said with wry amusement, "You thought they'd give me one?"

He smirked and shook his head. It really wasn't likely.

Zormna pressed the doorbell.

The sound echoed in the house. A low murmur rumbled from inside in response. The house always had a tense, stiff on-edge feel about it. The parents were so paranoid, though for good reason. But it made them difficult to live with, and Zormna felt sorry for their kids. She could see the light from the peephole go dark, and she heard another disgruntled rumble from behind the door.

It opened.

Mr. McLenna stood in the doorway and glared at her then more particularly at the dirty, sweaty, dark-haired boy that stood next to her. "Where have you been?" Mr. McLenna said in a low, slow, yet deeply angry tone.

"Uh...." Zormna automatically cowered on the step. It was instinct really, as the McLenna's caste back Home were responsible for the annihilation of her family line. And though the McLennas themselves weren't the type to murder anyone, their anger still struck her to the bone. She stared up