Sqerm. James A Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ I was looking up some data on killer sperm. Did you know that it can’t fertilize an egg?”

      “Yeah, I read that,” Sage said, still a bit annoyed. Sage paused for a few seconds, leaned back in his chair, and interlaced his fingers on top of his head. The chair squeaked just a bit. Sage said, “But what if, just in some weird instances, it could? What do you think would be the result?”

      “Can’t happen…”

      Sage plead his case, “But if it could?”

      Parker paused a bit longer than would be normal in a conversation between brothers ribbing each other. Sage believed that he had Parker’s full attention and waited patiently.

      “Oh, shit,” said Parker.

      Sage, knowing that Parker was finally focused, said, “Right?”

      Parker changed his tone. “This could change everything that everyone thinks they know. Let’s dig into it.”

      “My fear is that no one is going to believe us, or they’re going to think we’re craz…uh…” He paused to correct his wording. “My research background is not in the medical field,” said Sage as he rocked in his chair. The chair squeaked gently.

      Parker took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Parker explained, “I’ve had my fair share of having been called crazy. I’m an old pro. Well, my man, let’s check it out first and see if the hypotheses are right or if we are even on the right path. Then they will have to believe us—eventually.”

      Taking note of Parker’s paralanguage, Sage said, “Funny how you say ‘they.’ You gonna do your Dark Web thing?”

      Parker fought back a laugh and followed with “Man, you know there is no such thing as the Dark Web.”

      “A couple of minutes ago, there was no such thing as killer sperm—”

      Parker interrupted, “You gonna do your dodgin’ hot chicks thing?”

      Sage was hit with this mild gutshot by his brother but took the ribbing without complaining. “Catch you later, Parker,” he said.

      Parker joked, “Bye…hey, Sage, what about that one lady from…”

      Sage ended the call on his smartphone, then grinned to himself at Parker’s words. He lifted himself from his captain’s chair, walked to a cabinet, and opened it. Inside were a few small items and an electronic safe. The buttons emitted a high-pitched beep for each key as Sage punched in his code. He twisted the handle; it clanked with a more-massive-than-would-be-expected metallic thud, and he pulled it open. There was a small suction that indicated a pressure change. The result was a breeze that fluttered some official-looking papers inside of the metal body of the safe.

      He stared into the safe for several seconds. He reached in slowly, deliberately and pulled out a pistol and its magazine. Holding the gun in one hand and the magazine in the other, Sage visually inspected both items. He paused for a brief while and pondered his time in the Marine Corps. Semper fi.

      He missed the esprit de corps that the Marines offered. But he had Parker. Parker was and always had been his brother. They had gone through hell together, and though Parker was not a Marine, Sage knew that Parker had his back and he had Parker’s.

      Sage utilized his thumb to press on the top round in the magazine. Engraved on the side of the magazine was the numeral 10. Sage knew this to be the capacity of the weapon’s magazine, but for Sage, 7 was the magic number. Sage had a different perspective and always wanted to be prepared. He chose seven rounds, so the pressure on the spring was never too much, and his weapon would never jam. After a quick inspection of the pistol, it was paired with the magazine and gently placed in the safe. He removed a small digital camera and slammed and locked the door.

      Chapter 7

      Sage had busied himself in his office. Research materials, pens, papers, and small notepads were strewn across his desk. Through the window, daylight waned, and darkness approached. He paused momentarily to absorb the slowly fading sun. The sky enveloped the Phoenix horizon with varying degrees of purple and orange. Sage loved the color purple. It was his favorite color.

      He desperately needed rest but did not look forward to closing his eyes. He had not slept well recently. The dream of Vickie had become more vivid, and he missed her terribly. Additionally, he was not fond of Chuck. Since his departure from the Marine Corps and his arrival home, he dreamed of Chuck more often, and it bothered him.

      He sat erect in his chair and began to flip through notes and materials on his desk. He had been researching extensively, and his eyes had tired of staring at the screen. He yawned heartily and gently scratched the back of his head. His eyes were getting heavy, and as badly as he wanted to be champion in this battle, the sleep was going be the victor.

      As Sage once again fell victim to the sleep monster, Vickie appeared. Sage was sitting on a blanket in a park. Picnic items decorated the makeshift flooring, but the color of it was fuzzy to him. The grass had no separation from the Technicolor bedspread; they were woven into one continuous sheet. His focus shifted to Vickie. She smiled at him; her smile was his fuel.

      People walked about the park noticing Sage and Vickie. Sage and Vickie paid no mind to the people that passed by. As the couple drank wine and ate fruit, Sage put his finger to his ear and rapidly scratched at his ear canal. Vickie put her ear to her shoulder and ground and shook her head back and forth while attempting not to spill her wine. The two of them shared intimate glances, and he moved closer to her. He flirted, and she laughed. They were madly in love. This was evident, and denying it would not be remotely possible. Vickie’s finger was decorated with an ornate engagement ring that sparkled in the light. The size of the ring seemed as though gravity would react differently to it and that her hand would be hard to lift. As Vickie smiled, she put a finger to her ear and attempted to scratch at her ear canal. The briefest of a greenish shimmer appeared around her body, but it was nearly imperceptible.

      As they leaned in to steal a kiss, Sage began to close his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, Sage caught an ever so brief flash of red—also nearly imperceptible. An unknown figure stepped on to the edge of the blanket and punctured Vickie’s skull at the base, just above her neck. It had been with a sharp instrument that looked similar to an ice pick. Sage felt Vickie’s face smash into his, and he awoke from this nightmare with which he had become all too familiar.

      “Vickie…,” moaned Sage.

      Chapter 8

      Sage, freshly awake from his office slumber, was happy to be out of the nightmare, though it saddened him when he remembered what had happened to Vickie. Sweat beaded lightly on his face, and he wiped it away with his palm. He placed his moistened hand onto the newspaper given to him by Hal. As the sweat soaked in and dampened the paper, Sage noticed the periodical for the first time. Somehow, in his business of researching, he had forgotten it. Now giving notice to the paper and remembering Hal’s words, a review of the article was in order. He smiled to himself. He leafed through the paper with no particular section in mind. He flipped a page, scanned it, then another flip and another scan. After several flips and scans, he reached a page buried in the paper. There was an article about a murder. It seemed familiar, but he could not recall why it possessed a familiarity.

      He stared at the photo, pondering, wondering. He shifted in his chair and then trained his focus to a black-and-white photograph of the crime scene. Police tape cordoned the scene, СКАЧАТЬ