Chapter No. 4 Spirits of Devils

Ignoring shrieking cries of alarm, a skinny woman with raven tresses firmly holds a squirming piglet above a tank of churning water. She dips it under the surface but pulls it up a split second ahead of the razor-sharp clashing teeth of a small reef shark. Her eyes gleam with fitful pleasure as she watches the unfulfilled predator crash back into the tank. She waits a few seconds before she skims the squealing animal across the water, pulling it to safety when the hungry shark makes another desperate attempt to snatch it.

"What are you doing, my Pet?"

The woman turns to cast her gleeful eyes on a curly-haired impish man standing in the lab doorway. "I am amusing myself, Julie. I love to tease them. They're such slaves to instinct."

"I'm surprised that you, of all people, would amuse yourself by teasing sharks."

A veil of indignation, with a hint of contrition, fell over her face. "You still blame me for what happened that day, don't you?"

His face took on a veil of remorse. "No, my Pet. I'm simply confused by your choice of amusement, that's all."

She slowly stood up, trudged to a chair, and slumped into it, all the while cradling the agitated piglet in her arms. "How was I supposed to know that a Great White had invaded the Bay that day? How was I supposed to know?" She exhaled a deep sigh. "I was stupid, Julie. I was an idiot. I should have been paying attention." She petted the piglet with swift, mechanical motions. "Why did I allow it to happened? Why?"

Julius patted her head with gentle, loving motions. "Do not torture yourself, my Pet. You could not have known."

She shook her head. "I can't get the image of that . . . I see it constantly--that monster head, those huge teeth, tearing poor Sammy--" She bowed her head. "I guess we were not meant to have a child."

"We have our work, my Pet. Our work is our child."

Her face softened, but a misty gleam remained in her eyes. "Yes, Julie, when can I get back to my work? I need my work. It sooths the pain."

He kissed her forehead. "I know, believe me, I know."

###

Eric stared at his reflection in the front window of Saks and licked his hand to slick down an errant clump of gray hair. Nothing much else to do while his wife was shopping till he drops. He hates loitering around the dressing rooms. It makes him feel self-conscious. And, does he hate feeling self-conscious!

A smaller reflection caught his attention. The reflection belonged to a small toe-headed boy, perhaps five years of age.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, adding a soothing smile when he noted tears in the boy's sky-blue eyes.

The boy hugged Eric's leg and cried.

Good grief.

"Now, now, now." He patted the boy's head. "I'm sure your mother's around here somewhere." He looked around at uncaring faces, passing in haste.

This is not helping me keep a low profile.

As if on cue, his wife appeared gripping a large shopping bag and sporting a teasing smile. "Found a new friend, dear?"

He frowned. "Seems so, now doesn't it."

Margaret squatted down and placed a soothing hand on the boy's back. "Are you lost? Where's your Mommy?"

"I already asked him that, Love. He's more interested in crying."

"We'll have to take him to the security office. Children get lost all the time in malls."
"Well, let's do it. We don't need to attract this kind of attention."

Margaret stood up, took the boy's hand and gave him a soothing smile. "Come on, Son. We'll go find your Mommy."

He stopped crying.

###

As soon as she spotted George Stevens swaggering up to her table, Joyce Conners leaned back in her chair and sighed. Lunch is not a good time for parleying with the Institute's grouch.

"I hope you aren't swallowing the Hauptmans' nonsense."

Conners scowled at him. "What the hell difference does it make? If what they saw is real, it will all come out in the wash."

"There's no wash to come out of. What they saw--and filmed--is not real."

"How in the hell do you know?"

Stevens sat in a chair opposite her and frowned. "They can't be real. No mythological creature has ever been proven to be real. They're simply examples of literary license."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm not an idiot." She took a sip of coffee and cradled the hot cup in her hands as if she were trying to warm her long bony fingers. "Consider this, though: maybe what you think you saw in that tape is not it. Maybe it's something else."

He guffawed. "You're not making any sense. Your mind is going."

"Ha! Yours is already gone."

Alan Anderson filtered out of the merry crowd of Institute diners. "Isn't it a little early for your daily philosophical discussion?"

Conners smiled wryly at him. "Why, Dr. Anderson. I'm surprised to see you lunching with the rank and file. Forget your credit cards?"

A brief acknowledging smile invaded Anderson's lips. "No. I just like to check out the cafeteria food once in a while."

Stevens shrugged. "Believe me, it's as bland as ever."

"It's not that bad," Conners said in a scolding voice. "Try getting food this inexpensive outside the Institute."

"Figures. You'd like anything as long as it's cheap."

"I didn't say it was cheap. I said it was inexpensive. There's a big difference."

Anderson's head swiveled back and forth between the two combatants several rounds before he held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm not into lunchtime debates. I'll find a quiet table by myself."

He got up and made his way toward the back. Stevens got up and followed him.
Conners smiled.

At least now I can eat in peace.

###

"Timmy!" A tall, svelte woman's voice pierced through the babble of the Lincoln Towne Mall like the cry of an alarmed dolphin.

"I think we found the mother, Love."

She tilted her head and smirked. "No kidding, dear."

The tall woman was dressed to kill in a tailored light-blue mini-skirted Galliano suit, matching Gucci shoes, and a Coach purse. Her blond locks were compliments of Miguiles, her accents and scents were by Cartier.

"Wow!"

"Dear!" She frowned to emphasize her admonishment.

"The kid should have no problem finding her; she sticks out like a neon sign."

"You forget: he doesn't have your hormone level as yet, dear."

He pointed a finger at her. "Touché."

"Are you the couple that found Timmy?" Her warm smile was tempered with concerned eyes.

Eric beamed. His wife stood back and watched.

"Yes," Eric said, placing his hand on the boy's head. "He was over by Saks. I don't know why he came up to me."

"Perhaps, it's because you look like his father."

Eric's eyes lit up. His wife's rolled.

The woman extended her hand to the boy, and he reluctantly came to her side.
"I want to thank you for taking care of my son. No telling what could have happened if someone like you hadn't come along."

"Pleased to be of assistance, ma'am."

Margaret nodded.

She rewarded Eric with a reserved smile and his wife with a friendly nod before she and the boy faded into the noontime crowd.

Eric sighed.

"What's the matter, dear? Disappointed that she didn't take you home with her, too?"

He gave her a brief look of despair. "No. Just thinking about what it would be like to have a child."

She placed her hand in his. "I know. It's my fault. I allowed my career to become more important than . . ."

"I don't blame you, for heavens sake. It was my decision as well. We just weren't meant to have children."

Margaret's eyes stared at an imaginary scene. "Our children are out there in the seas."

Her husband looked at her, turned away, and sighed. "Let's get the hell out of here."

###

Julius looked up from a journal to watch his wife enter their bedroom door and slowly shuffle to a position a few yards in front of him. He tried to discern her intentions from staring into to her dark, penetrating eyes, but her eyes expressed detachment, not intensity as he had expected.

"What is it, my Pet?"

She smiled at him, but it was not her usual sardonic expression of demonic pleasure.

"What?"

"I need redemption, Julie."

"Redemption? What are you babbling about, my Pet?"

She slowly and deftly unbuttoned her blouse, taking much more time than he had ever seen her take. But, she didn't remove it. Instead, she pulled it out from under her knee-length black wool skirt, unhooked a large brass buckle and pulled the wide belt attached to it from skirt loops. But, she didn't unzip the skirt. She moved closer to her husband and held the belt out.

"What are you doing, my Pet? You are not acting rationally."

"Take it, Julie." Her eyes demanded.

He reluctantly held his hand up to receive the belt from her hands.

She stepped back and stood as if at attention.

Julius slowly scanned his eyes up her skinny legs to her taunt pulsating midriff, then up to the black silk bra peeking out from the parted blouse before he examined her taunt grinning face. "I hope you don't expect me to be the instrument of your redemption. I am not into sadism."

"Sadism? Why Julie, you misunderstand me. I don't want you to punish me. My headaches fulfill that function."

"I don't understand. What do you expect of me."

She grinned, but it was much more subdued than he was used to. "I want to entertain you as a prelude to our fun. Your acceptance of my belt is only the beginning of the process. It is symbolic of my submission."

Julius smiled. "You have unusual appetites, my Pet, but I will try to make you happy if . . . if that is possible."

"Happiness is only a relative concept. My unusual appetites, as you put it, are substitutes for happiness. I am not amicable to joy. The pleasure of work is the only fulfillment that is possible for me."

He frowned. "There's more to life than work. Perhaps, you need a vacation. How about a trip to a conference? The time away would refresh your soul."

"You are being facetious, Julie. I could never enjoy a vacation away from work. To me, work is life."

"I tried," he said, sounding apologetic.

"I appreciate it." She smiled. "But, I would really appreciate your attendance to my wishes."

"Well, my Pet," he said with an ornery grin, "If you wish to entertain me . . . "

She quickly removed her blouse and allowed it to flutter to the ground. "I will bare everything for you."

She reached back to unhook her bra, but she stopped. "Unfortunately, everything, in my case, is not much."

"You are as much as I could ever want, my Pet."

She smiled softly. "You are kind as ever. I don't know why you put up with me."

"It's because I love you, my Pet."

Her smile deepened.

###

Conners looked up from a journal to watch Dr. Anderson take a seat opposite her.
"Stevens sure can be persistent. I thought he would never go." He chuckled. "I think old George needs a family."

Conners grunted. "No woman would put up with him. He's such a grouch."

Anderson flashed a teasing smile. "He seems to prefer your company."

Her eyes flashed briefly with fire. "The reason he hangs around me is because I'm the only one who will argue with him. Everyone else ignores him."

"Why don't you ignore him?"

"Everyone needs a sounding board." She lowered her eyes. "I know what it means to need some one to listen."

He stared into her eyes for a few minutes. A flicker of curiosity flashed in his eyes.
"I know this is none of my business," Anderson said, leaning closer, "but why haven't you married?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "I was married . . . once." Her eyes narrowed. "But it didn't last."

"Any children?"

"Nah," she said, turning her face away. "I wasn't meant to have children." She turned back to him. "I'm married to my career. I don't have time for a family."

He rubbed the side of his face. "I see."

"What about you?"

"I've been married three times. No children. It's just as well. Alimony payments are problem enough."

She flashed a brief smile.

"Well," he said after slowly standing up. "I'll leave you to what's left of your lunch hour."

She watched him fade into the lunchtime crowd.

I wonder what that was all about.

She smiled. Maybe he's having trouble with his latest girlfriend.

###

After he turned out onto Sausalito from the Mall parking lot, Eric draped his wrist over the steering wheel of their Blazer and cleared his throat. "Maybe we should consider adoption."

His wife stared at him with squinting eyes. "We're too old to adopt a child. Besides, we don't have time for it."

"How about a dog?"

"Who's going to take care of it when we're on an expedition?" She sounded stressed.

"Just trying to be considerate, Love."

"I don't need anything else. I have you. You're more than enough responsibility for me."

"Thanks . . . I think."

Margaret noticed her husband's sudden concern with the rearview mirror. "What's the matter?"

"I think someone's following us, Love. I keep seeing the same white Explorer."

"Maybe you're being paranoid."

He shook his head. "I don't know. He keeps turning the same way we do. I'll try making some random turns and see what happens."

Several random turns later, the white Explorer is still on their tail.

Even Margaret was getting nervous. "What are we going to do?" She turned to keep a wary eye on the suspicious vehicle.

"Something drastic." Eric jerked the wheel to cut into a parking lot. He flew to the end of the lot and crossed over a sidewalk to speed down a side street.

Margaret's eyes widened with both surprise and concern. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Obviously not enough. They're still on our tail."

He sped up and blew a stop sign to careen out onto Sausalito. The Explorer was right behind.

"You're going to get us killed!"

"After what's happened to us, I'd rather take my chances on the street."

Eric pulled onto a freeway ramp and floored it. The Explorer did the same. He changed lanes several times. His opponent did likewise.

This is not going to be easy.

While maintaining one eye on the mirror, Eric maneuvered over to the right and faded toward the exit. When the Explorer did the same, he abruptly turned back onto the freeway. His opponent cut off another driver as he just barely made it back to the freeway.

Shit.

Eric turned onto the shoulder and passed an eighteen-wheeler on the right, but when he jumped back in front of the truck, the pursuer was right there on the left.

Damn.

Eric squeezed the Blazer in between a very narrow space left by a Gran Prix and a Lexus. He had to accelerate and break rapidly to achieve the advantage, but his breaks were to the point of fading.

Margaret was to the point of exasperation.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

Eric hit the breaks and swerved into a service turn, coming within inches of colliding with a guardrail and causing their bodies to crash hard into seat belts. The Explorer careened into a delivery truck sending both vehicles into crazy spins that collected several other cars.

He smacked his hands on the steering wheel. "The Chevy wins!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He beamed a smile of pride at her. "The Chevy beat the Ford."

Margaret's beamed fire at him. "We nearly get killed and all you can think of is winning."

"Hey. We're still alive and whoever that was didn't get his hands on us. That's all that counts."

"Why are they bothering us? We've never done anything to them."

"I have no idea, Love. They're obviously insane."

"I'm beginning to think we're insane."

"This is California, Love. Insanity is a legacy."

She stared at him for several minutes with a confused expression.

Eric pulled out into a now grid locked freeway. When he passed the wreck, he tried to get a look at the Explorer's driver, but police cars and an ambulance blocked his view.
He turned to his wife. "Well, Love. I guess we're not going to see the face of the devil today."

She stared blankly at the accident scene. Her emotions were just as wrecked as the twisted vehicles.