Chapter 8: Spyder

A NOTE TO THE READER – From this point forward you will notice a change in tenses. I couldn’t very well describe the coming scenarios from the typical first-person descriptive narrative that I have used throughout this story. There is just too much happening with too many characters. I hope it is intuitive to you as the story progresses. I will try to leave glaring clues within the first couple of sentences at the beginning of each scene break.

You could cut the tension with a knife. I sat quietly in the truck but my mind was racing. Sam was fleeing for her life, on a motorcycle. She was being chased by fuckers with guns who were shooting at her! And the hacker who fucked everything up was not being controlled by the motherfuckers with the guns—but was controlling them! So, who the fuck was controlling him? Jesus Christ I just wanted to kill something! Anything!

“Jesus! Carter, would you calm the fuck down already?” Trinity snapped at me from the passenger’s seat. I would’ve backhanded her for the outburst if I thought my hand would still be attached when I brought it back. But with that two-foot straight razor in her grasp, I felt it prudent to resist the urge. “She will call us when she can, that’s all we can hope for at the moment,” she continued. “Now calm down and do your breathing thingy.”

‘Breathing thingy?’ Oh, I really wanted to dust her brain case for that one. But she was right. Why was I such a fucking mess? Gee let’s think about that for a minute — could it be because I had just raped my best friend’s wife, like a crazed animal full of fuck-lust? Or could it be because I found out ‘said’ best friend is dying of cancer and lupus and who the fuck knows what else? And now my most trusted partner (whom I’ve never even met) was running for her fucking life from people who desperately wanted to kill her and there was NOTHING I could do about it? Why was I such a fucking mess? How did Kevin put it? ‘Je ne sais quoi’.

“We are gonna have to split up,” Trinity said absently. “Someone has to get her to safety and the other has to take care of the ones chasing her.”

“Where do you propose to take her,” I asked.

She scoffed. “Me? No way Jose. I’m no good with people. She’s your problem!”

I turned and stared at her defiant face. “So, you are gonna ‘take care’ of the murderous thugs chasing her?”

She sat there daintily nibbling on the last of her 10-piece chicken nugget meal, carefully scraping the very last essence of honey mustard sauce from the plastic tub. She popped it into her mouth and noisily sucked her fingers clean before turning and staring back at me. She raised an eyebrow perturbed at my staring. “What? Are you getting hard of hearing in your old age too?”

“Hard of ... old age?” I was getting pissed now.

“And now you can’t even talk in complete sentences,” she shook her head pathetically and sighed.

“Fuck you!” I retorted. “I could whip your ass blindfolded!”

“Funny, I seem to remember being the one blindfolded and I still smacked you silly a time or two. And that was before I started practicing MMA after class.” She was digging around in the take-out bag for loose fries. “We should go back for ice cream cones or milkshakes. Or both,” she suggested as she nibbled on a cold fry.

I remembered her mentioning mixed martial arts or Krav Maga training a while back but I didn’t give it much thought. She was always sporting a bruise or three ever since I took her in and began training her. Since then, she had undergone an incredible transformation. Once she was a timid, abused, and frightened little girl who lived day to day, John to John, and numbed her existence with drugs. Now she had filled out with good nutrition (well, food anyway) and stood strong and tall. Her face had lost its gaunt baby fat and she had transformed into a chiseled beauty with more muscles than most guys her age. Gone were her ragged dirty blonde locks. Now she wore her hair in finely woven micro braids that Jenny had painstakingly produced over many hours. She looked like a confident and intimidating Greek goddess or Egyptian queen. I had no doubt she could take care of herself and had seen her kill when needed. She sat across from me wearing her typical dark leggings with a cream-colored turtle neck and black leather jacket. She wore black leather boots on her feet.

With a shake of my head, I started the truck and headed back to Rotten Ronnies. It was after dark and I refused to go back to the canyon, not knowing if or when Sam would call again and be in urgent need of our help. We had just pulled into the Golden Arches when my phone rang through the Bluetooth. I answered with a button on my steering wheel. “Hello.”

“I’m here,” her voice said quietly. There was no background noise of any sort.

I pulled away from the drive-thru and stopped the truck. “Where are you?” I asked.

There was no answer for a few seconds, then, “Do you remember how we found Owen?”

Both Trinity and I looked at each other before turning to look across the parking lot at the freeway. Directly across from it was the Value Inn where I had taken Owen forcibly from his car. That was the same night I met and rescued Trinity from her life as a drug-addicted prostitute.

“I remember,” I replied as I turned the truck around and pulled back onto the road.

“I’m 3 doors down from the bike.”

“Copy that. Be there in five.”

“They are close,” she said anxiously, “watch out for a dark SUV with low profile tires and violet under glow lights.”

“Just stay inside, we’ll be there in a minute,” I assured her.

“We? Whose ‘we’?”

“Ciao,” I replied and cut the connection.

I drove casually towards the freeway and crossed it when the lights turned our way. I could see the cheap hotel just a block away as we approached it.

“Purple under glows,” Trinity muttered as we stopped at another intersection. The vehicle was to our right and when they got their signal, they turned left to pass us heading in the wrong direction. All their windows were illegally tinted and the street lights glittered off the shiny black surface and chromed ‘low-pros’. The black top beneath the SUV glowed purple from the reflective chassis lights. It was an Escalade.

“Not very subtle, are they?” I muttered as our light turned green and we drove on. I didn’t pull into the parking lot by the freeway. Instead, I continued for three blocks before turning around and heading back. I entered the lot and drove down the line of rooms until I saw the black Kawasaki next to room #108. There were only two further doors to the left so she would have to be in #111. There were only a couple of cars in the lot so I parked by backing into the spot before #109, obstructing the bike from view to any approaching cars. I flipped off my auto dome lights and switched the running/headlights to manual before turning the truck off.

We got out and approached the room cautiously. The glowing incandescent bulb next to #110 popped and went dark when Trinity reached up with her black ebony rod and tapped it.

“Oops,” she murmured as we stopped at #111 and softly tapped on the door. The lights were all out inside but I could feel her presence within. The door knob clicked and it opened a crack. I looked back at Trinity and found her holding her Glock in both hands like a professional. I shrugged and pushed the door open enough to step inside. The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted my nose as I entered.

“Sam, it’s me...” I sensed her rushing toward me and caught her as she flew into my arms. I couldn’t see her in the dark room but I drew several conclusions just by holding her shaking body. She only stood about 5’6 and was thin as a wisp. Her hair was cut short and she had relatively small boobs. She also smoked. The door clicked shut and I heard Trinity cross the room to the blackened doorway of the bathroom. She flicked on the light and the entire room filled with a soft glow. The blackout curtains were already closed. She paced around the room in a complete circuit before putting her gun away.

I gently pushed my hitherto unknown partner back so I could see her. She stepped away and took me in as well. Her hair was lime green and she wore no makeup. Her Caucasian features were thin, nearly elfin. Her eyes were most peculiar because they were different colors. The right iris was golden brown while her left was light blue. There was a heavy blotch of discoloration that covered the skin over her left eye and ran down her cheek. It appeared stark white compared to the rest of her skin tone. When she lowered her hands, I noticed that both of them had similar discolorations but in random patterns.

“Whoa!” Trinity breathed in astonishment as she took in Sam’s features. I could see the discomfort from a lifetime of being stared at, in the girl’s face as she blinked and stared back. Trinity was never shy and stepped up to touch her discolored cheek with a gentle hand. “What is this?” she whispered in awe.

Sam cringed but didn’t pull back as my former fosterling studied her with innocent amazement. “I ... I have a condition called hypopigmentation. It ... it’s also called Vitiligo.” she replied matter-of-factly. “The heterochromia is unrelated.” She shivered as Trinity continued touching her hair and face softly, mesmerized.

“Hetero ... what?” she asked as she fingered the bright green tresses.

“My eyes,” Sam replied. She wasn’t sure how to take the curious invasion of her space.

“Wow!” Trinity finally breathed stepping back. “You look so ... amazing! And I fucking love your hair!”

Sam blushed and turned back towards her bed where a backpack lay. “Thanks, I guess,” she replied diffidently as she grabbed a pack of thin cigarettes and fished one out. With expert ease she had it lit and stood before us with one arm covering her torso while the other held the smoke. “So, what now?”

I turned to Trin who gave her another appraising look. “We are about the same size,” she guessed and removed four extended magazines from her leather jacket pocket setting them on the nearby table. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered and began placing items of destruction next to the bullets. First, she removed her Glock with its concealed holster, then her black ebony-cased Ginsu knife, followed by half a dozen four-pointed throwing stars. I gaped at her and she shrugged. “I had some free time in Metal Shop.”

“Um ... why am I taking my clothes off?” Sam balked as she watched the other girl shed her turtle neck exposing her naked breasts. She tossed the shirt on the bed and kicked off her boots before pulling down her leggings.

“Because to lure those gomers away from you, I need to make them think that I am you, now strip!” she ordered once more. The hacker made an ugly face and began taking her black calf-high riding boots off. She glanced at me sharply. “You think you could turn around, eh?”

I smirked and turned around.

“I don’t know why you are being so bashful,” Trinity groused. “You’re gonna be fucking him before long.”

“I’m much more likely to fuck you than him,” she replied.

“Well then hurry up and strip sweetheart, we don’t have much time ... Whoa!”

I turned back instinctively and found Sam standing in her bra and panties. Her entire body was a patchwork of discolored random blotches. A large one covered her entire right hip and belly disappearing within her panty line.

Trinity bent over to inspect her body markings. “Does that one go right through...?”

“Divides me jay-jay straight in half,” She confirmed before noticing me staring and covering herself. “God! Man! Seen enough?”

“Oh, get over its sister,” Trinity grunted as she swiftly began dressing in Sam’s clothes. In minutes she was tucking her weapons back onto her body.

Sam grumbled as she tugged on the leggings and shirt. She sat on the bed to put on the black boots.

Trinity went over to the bed and grabbed the black full-face helmet. She cursed when she tried to put it on.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, glancing at the digital clock near the bed. We had been here for 7 minutes.

“It’s too tight,” she complained, “my braids are too bulky.”

Uh oh. “Um ... Trin...” I paused as she pulled out the black rod and disengaged the round brass lock. The blade she pulled out gleamed with a rainbow of multiple layers embedded in the metal. The wavy pattern traveled the entire twenty-inch length of the blade.

Trinity raised her shoulders and sighed regretfully as she grabbed a handful of the micro braids. “Sorry Jenny,” she grimaced and began cutting them away. In minutes she looked like a ragged homeless girl with a bad crew cut. Her locks littered the floor around her. I gazed in astonishment at the wreckage of what had once taken nearly ten hours to create.

“Oh shit!” I breathed as she set the helmet over her head and flipped the tinted visor down. “I’m out.” her muffled voice said as she turned towards the door.

“Wait!” Sam called and tossed her the keys. “I stole this one from a bar. Didn’t need to hotwire it. Do you want my backpack?”

“I’m not letting them get that close to notice,” Trin replied and then stepped outside closing the door behind her.

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked anxiously.

“We give her enough time to get away so they follow her if they are watching. Then I take you to a safe place,” I replied sitting on the bed. “Why don’t you tell me about this hacker?”

She pulled a tablet out of her backpack and activated it. When the screen flashed, she traced an intricate pattern on it and then stared into a tiny camera. It opened and she tapped away on it. “I still can’t believe how far off base I was,” she muttered. She pulled up a couple of still frames of an anonymous building. “This is where the server farm is located,” she said, “the hacker’s mainframe. It’s huge too. About twice the capacity of mine but much less refined and has a huge power drain. Which is how I found it.” She swiped the images off the screen to reveal a map. I recognized the state and Coolidge Park, where we currently were. “The Mainframe is here,” she pointed to a spot in a town roughly 60 miles away in the next County.

“So where is the hacker?” I asked, “And how did you find him?”

She grinned. “Elementary dear Watson,” she mimed. “Actually, it was pure luck ... well, not luck so much as a total surprise.” She pulled up a scatter diagram of some sort and continued talking. “Remember when I told you I just had to find all the places that he was not before I could find him?”

I nodded feeling a Kevin-esc lecture coming. My head was already starting to hurt. “Kind of like pulling all the teeth from an alligator to keep it from biting you?” I offered.

She stared at me and then shook her head, “No. Certainly not. Look the web isn’t so much a web as it is a pattern of signal variations. When he communicated with the mob in Florida, I had to determine the pattern. All this time I was going off the premise that he was just doing their cyber dirty work from some closet nearby.”

I stood up and shook my head. “Nope. Ya gotta go way dumber than that for me Sam. I am not a very quick study at shit like this. Ask Kevin.”

She sighed. “Look, I was in Canada. They were in Florida. Are you with me so far?”

I stopped and nodded agreeably, “Sure I can track with that.”

“Well, it wasn’t much of a leap to figure out that he wasn’t in my area so I headed there.” She gave me a questioning look and I nodded once more. “When I got there and couldn’t find him, I had a huge area that I could rule out as him not being there. He wasn’t in Canada or Florida or anywhere between those points. Are you still with me?”

I nodded again but was frowning as I tried to keep up.

“So, I had this huge area where I knew that he wasn’t.” she surmised triumphantly. “But I still had his pattern.” She held up the scattergram thingy.

“Okay, I’m lost again. Can you just tell me what you did in the bare simplest of terms?”

She blew out her air in frustration and then beckoned me to come sit beside her again. “Here, just look at the image and don’t try to figure it out.” She swiped several times and brought up another scattergram picture which she promptly recolored green. “Here, this is me,” she touched her hair and then the screen. “And this is part of my... ‘web’ okay? It’s a pattern. And it’s unique to me. At least the part that I let everyone see...” She wiped it from the screen and pulled back the other image. She colored it red and the first thing I noticed was that it was blockier and bolder than hers. “This is the other hacker’s web pattern.”