Salem Winchester had always believed that children were just enlarged petri dishes, and watching them interact in the library's so called "kiddie zone" only reiterated that fact. Having only the vaguest memories of her own childhood, she simply rolled her eyes at them. Children were disgusting, like many adults- adults just got better at hiding their grossness.
She hated the fact that she was here—in a public library of all places—to intercept a mission statement. The lack of privacy was an obvious issue, and then there was also the traceability. Of course the Agency would anticipate that though and plan accordingly. They were pretty thorough about that type of thing.
Anticipation caused her fingers to drum idly against the fake wood desk in front of the library's desktop computer that was likely the same age as her. No matter how many times she went on a mission, there was always the initial excitement and a small amount of dread in the pit of her stomach.
It had been almost two months since the last mission and that one was a fluke—a beginner could have solved it. But this one was guaranteed to be something big, something important. Salem could feel the weight in her bones.
The old desktop computer's screen lit up once as a message unraveled on her screen. She checked over her shoulder that no one could eavesdrop and quickly opened the message.
MISSION: EXPLORE THE TOWN OF SHADASCO, A COMMUNITY THAT HAS EXPERIENCED STRANGE HAPPENINGS. HELP TO RESTORE ORDER IF NECESSARY.
PARTNER: REGINALD HAROLD LOCKHART III
DEADLINE: NONE
DANGERS: UNKNOWN
ORDER COMMENCES: IMMEDIATELY
MISC. NOTES: NONE
THIS ORDER IS EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. THIS MESSAGE WILL DELETE IN FIVE SECONDS. GODSPEED AGENTS.
The message disappeared almost as soon as her eyes finished scanning it. It was the usual thing the Agency sent. A mission and a direct order to do something that people weren't supposed to know about.
"They give me vague missions, but don't even bother to send a Christmas card?" Salem backed away from the library's desktop computer, spinning in her chair for a minute. Her eyes reread the image ingrained on her brain. She closed her eyes, leaning back at a precarious angle.
"Shadasco," she whispered, trying the words out on her tongue. It sounded foreign on her tongue in her thin drawl. She went over the other vague details in her mind. "My partner is Reginald—" Her eyes opened in realization, her balance disappeared and she flipped out of her chair, gaining attention from a few readers and small children who obviously thought this new show was more hilarious than building giraffes out of modeling clay.
She untangled herself from the chair, lying on her back to stare up through the library's skylight at the grey sky. The reality hit her in the forehead like a well-aimed arrow. "My partner is Reggie."
A woman stood over her, head half-cocked in confusion. "Are you all right down there?"
Salem shook her head yes, and let out a deep sigh. Reginald Harold Lockhart the Third. Of course. Of course the agency would choose them as partners. Reggie and Salem—the best junior agents they had. More importantly, the most willing agents they had.
"Would you like help up, dear?" The woman standing over her said again, offering a hand to her.
Salem shook her head no and the woman retracted her hand, knitting her blond brows in confusion. But she left, which was all that mattered. In light of the recent tragedy, all she wanted was to be alone.
Salem sat up, her phone buzzing in her nearby purse. She already knew who it was. Nobody else was so reliable, so prompt. Disgusting.
Digging through the large faux leather tote, she found the phone. She smoothed out the lines in her chiffon dress and answered suavely. "Hello Reginald."
"Hello Salem Adamina Winchester." His voice was soft, as was to be expected of someone with the name Reginald. What she could never really get used to was the thick southern accent that pulled at his vowels. For someone who traveled the world, he really had adopted no other accent other than his native Georgian tongue. "Nice to hear from you again."
"Don't give me that pleasantry."
"Ah yes, there's the Salem I know." He cleared his throat, Salem could almost see him adjusting his tie. He always wore a tie. His casual was everybody else's black-tie formal. "Well, I just wanted to see if you received your mission. We're partners again."
People stared at her as she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away from the desktop. Her sneakers were silent on the tile floor, but everyone's attention fell on her anyways. Salem had that effect on people. "I know, this is stupid. Doesn't the Agency know that I hate you? I thought I made that evident."
"I thought you made it extremely clear the last time we met," Reggie coughed again. A nervous habit, that and adjusting his collar. Jeez that made her blood boil, the way he always reached to adjust his stupid collar, even when he didn't have one. What type of a jerk did that?
Salem emerged from Bander County Public Library with a heavy sigh. The wind whipped at her bare legs, goosebumps dotting her skin. The wind tore at her messy chignon bun, ripping away strands of curly dark hair. "Yeah, I'm not happy to say the least. What do you know about Shadasco?"
"I've done about a minute of research, but it looks to be a pretty normal place. I mean sure there are the occasional tourists that have those strange Yelp reviews, but beyond that nothing unusual. Nothing we haven't handled before. It must be something more or they wouldn't have assigned us together."
"What state are we talking about?" She quickly walked back to her car, sneakers crunching against asphalt and gravel. "Besides, where are we meeting anyways."
"Where are you?" There was a dull ring on his side of the line followed with a harsh bark. "Sorry, my roommate's trying to find me."
"He doesn't know your mission, right?"
"Of course not." He took a deep breath, "just answer my question."
"I'm in Pennsylvania," Salem sighed. "I've moved every two months since the last incident. I can't really seem to stand still."
"You're not too far from Shadasco then." Reggie said, "Shadasco is in West Virginia. I'm in Georgia right now. In school and whatnot. I'll send you coordinates where we can meet. I'll drive."
"Why do you want to drive? Remember what happened last time you drove?"
"I didn't want to take your piece of scrap metal across the country, excuse me." Salem heard a glass bottle slam against a table, a grape Nehi if she had to guess. "I'll meet you at the diner. Got it?"
"Roger that," she muttered, hanging up.
Salem leaned against her car, staring at her phone's screen for a moment. "Who does he think he is? Rich entitled boy, thinks he can tell me what to do?" She laughed, scratching at a bit of rust on her car door. It really was nothing more than a hunk of scrap metal with an engine, but that didn't mean anything. It still ran, somehow, but that was all that really mattered.
She stared up at the clouds beginning to form around the sun. Rain crows cawed from their perches on limber willow branches. Her dark eyes scanned the horizon, broken apart by the faint outlines of mountains. A shiver ran along her spine, making her rub her hands against her bare arms. The world around her began to grow black with the incoming storm.
***
Reggie sat in a dim diner, his shoes and feet were thoroughly soaked and squished every time he moved even an inch in any direction. He hated it. He hated the way his dark hair dripped water into his eyes when he bowed over his cup of coffee, but then again, that was the law of gravity and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He tapped his fingers against the ceramic cup, checking the Rolex on his wrist. It was eight-thirty now. Where was she?
"Waiting on somebody?"
Reggie lifted his head, staring the waitress right in the eyes. People always found that gaze unnerving. It was a unsettling gaze. Not many wanted to hold eye contact for long, including the waitress.
"I'm sorry—what?" He muttered, stirring his finger in the dark coffee. It wasn't hot enough to scold, it was just warm enough for him to register that it was warm.
"You've been sitting here alone for the past hour. You've drank three cups of coffee without any sugar or cream. You're waiting for someone, aren't you?" She placed her hands on her hips, smoothing out the lines of her blue blouse. Her eyes refused to meet his. "Come on honey, are you hungry?"
His gaze dropped back down to his cup of coffee and took a deep breath. "I suppose so."
"Is that all you're gonna tell me?" She bent down with a small grunt. Frank Sinatra sang in the background, a few trumpets playing around Old Blue Eyes' voice. Reggie had never been a Sinatra fan, that was always his parents. He remembered them dancing to Sinatra on repeat, heels and dress shoes clicking against wood, red lipstick and the smell of cologne. Hidden kisses while guests sipped the thin mouths of champagne glasses and whispered about the rumors. The rumors about them and their faithfulness and all the things a kid understood only in the context of the big D word. Divorce. Of course, they were liars, all those guests with their freshly hair-sprayed curls and acrid smelling shoe-polish. The Lockhart's were in love and even a blind man could've seen that. But they still gossiped about the young couple. Reggie sat underneath the dinner table in silence like good boy, watching their feet move in unison. His mom's navy blue heels and his dad's on the verge of ratty dress shoes.
"Yeah, I'm waiting on someone." He finally started, shaking his head to clear the vision. "She should've been here over an hour ago."
"Do you like coconut?" She asked, picking up a glass display of half-eaten coconut cream pie.
He pulled his soggy billfold from his back pocket, "that's fine with me."
She touched his hand, startling him. He didn't let her see that he was startled by the touch, but for a moment his brain went numb. "No honey, if I don't get rid of this, it goes to waste. I don't want to throw anything away."
"Are you sure? I can pay." He insisted again, opening his wallet to reveal a couple of large bills.
She stopped him, "no, don't worry about it. You've waited long enough-" she stared at his driver's license. "-Reginald."
"Reggie," he corrected. How he hated that name, Reginald. But that was his great-grandfather's name- on his mother's side. Not the great grandfather who was a Japanese immigrant on his father's side, it was the other one, the great-grandfather that made millions by using the bessemer system to make steel for infrastructural purposes. That stupid name was a perfect picture of laissez-faire capitalism. One man's pockets stuffed with abnormally green money while another searched his pocket for a dingy penny.
"All right Reggie," she cut him a slice of pie, a big slice too, one that was mostly the filling and not the crust. That was his favorite part—the filling. "Here," she handed him a spoon, "eat up. Now tell me about the girl you're waiting on. Might as well have somebody to talk with while you wait. If you'd like that is. I can always help the kitchen staff clean up, we don't get much business late at night."
"No, it's good to have somebody process things with me, proves I'm not absolutely crazy. This girl and me, we're partners," he muttered, accidentally smearing cream pie against his lips. "I complement the chef, well done." He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, all manners abolished as he spoke with his mouth full. "Stagwood Preparatory School doesn't hold a candle to this. Let's see, where was I again?"
"You are partners, this girl you're waiting on and you? She's just abandoned you here?" She leaned across the table, taking his now lukewarm cup of coffee away. She finally managed to maintain eye-contact with him. "She promised to meet you here, but you're alone and it's been an hour. I think she stood you up, Reggie. Time to face the facts."
"Oh, we're not like that at all. We're partners in work. She's a hot head. Last time we were on the same trip, she almost got me fired. And that's not a good thing—trust me." His fist tightened around the spoon that was currently hanging out of his mouth as well as a few strands of squiggly white coconut ribbons. "She thinks that the whole Fringeford incident was my fault. Can you believe that? I was the one who crashed the car—sure I'll take that one, but there was a reason behind it. I saved our lives, and who got into trouble? Me! She was the one who attracted attention to us, she failed. I didn't."
The door of the diner flew open, rain pounded against the world outside in thick sheets. "Reginald Lockhart, I did not fail. I was not the one who got lost in the plant and almost died. You blew up a chemical plant, not me!"
Reggie looked up to the waitress who seemed to freeze, one hand on her pie cutter, the other against the counter. "See what I mean—a hot head."
Salem's dress hugged her body, rain dripping down her body. Her once frizzy hair dripped down her shoulders and back, clinging to her head. "You're telling lies, Reggie. I'm not taking that from you. I just want to get this whole thing over with."
"You're over an hour late." Reggie grabbed a dish towel from the counter, rubbing his hair until it was just a little drier. He threw the towel at her. "I wish I could say I was disappointed, I expected it though."
Salem wiped her face, a heavy frown set on her lips. "Now I didn't come here for you to tell me that I failed the Agency. I don't want to kill you, but I will. Don't test me. Give me your keys."
Reggie felt in his pocket, holding up a set of simple keys. "You know which car it is then?"
"Let's see," she sarcastically held up her hands like a scale. "Is it the twenty-year old Ford truck or the three year old Mercedes? Which one would our rich entitled friend drive?"
He threw the keys at her, "don't get my seats wet." She caught them with a grip not unlike a falcon's talons gripping onto a mouse.
Salem's dark eyes stared into Reggie's piercing gaze, completely unnerved. "I do as I please."
"I'll be out in a minute."
"Good." She turned back towards the door before stopping to look back over her shoulder. "And take that damn suit off, who do you think you are? The president or something?" She opened the door, slamming it on her way out.
The silence filled the diner once again. A few jazzy cords filled the air, Sinatra's velvet voice following in suit. The neon glow of the diner's open sign painted his skin in a glowing array of pinks, blues, and greens. Balled up in the waitress' fists was her white and red checkered apron. Her light eyes were sympathetic, almost worried for him.
"I'm sorry, Reggie." The waitress whispered. "Hopefully it's not a long ride for you."
He stood, opening his wallet to slap a few dollars on the table. He finished the last bit of pie and slipped off his shoes. "I know how to deal with her. I'm experienced in this."
A man stirred in the corner of the diner beside the jukebox. Reggie hadn't noticed him before, but perhaps that was because he was asleep, half leaning against the multicolored jukebox, half slumped over a table. His face was hidden underneath his black hood, but a few white whiskers peeked out from the shadows.
The waitress reached over the counter, grabbing him by the arm. "Reggie, I don't know what you're dealing in but be careful." She pressed her hand into his, his hands were warm, her's were bone-chilling cold. "Take this, you can't be cautious enough."
He opened his hand to see a small line of rose colored rosary beads.
"And some pie for the road?" She released his arm.
Reggie nodded slowly, wrapping the beads around his wrist. "Have you ever heard of a town called Shadasco? It's about an hour or so west of here."
The man by the jukebox stirred, letting out a congested snore before settling back into his slumped position. Frank Sinatra's voice stopped and turned into pure jazz.
"Never heard of it." She handed him a styrofoam box, placing a plastic spoon on top. "What's in it?"
"That's what I'm going to figure out." He slipped out of his socks and felt the tile floor underneath his now bare feet. "Thank you." He looked at the rosary beads around his wrist and at the styrofoam box. "Thank you for both things."
"Be safe," she crossed herself slowly as Reggie headed back into the rain.
His headlights cut through the sheets of rain, Salem beeping the horn at him. He ran barefoot over the cracked asphalt, his face dripping water. He slung open the door to the Mercedes and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut as soon as his butt touched the seat.
"Took you long enough, yeah?" Salem tossed a blanket at his face, one he did not manage to catch in the least bit. "Always romancing the old women, bringing them to your side. Making me look like the bad guy." Salem snorted, "ridiculous, Reggie. I thought the Agency had some sort of thing with dignity and self-preservation."
Reggie wiped at his face, anger burning on his cheeks. "Look here, don't sass me, I even got you some pie."
"I don't want your appeasement pie."
"Well fine."
"Fine."
Reggie reached into the back seat running a hand over the seat until his hand found the wet nose of a dog. "Pez," he whispered and the nose lifted his hand, a tongue lolling out to lick his wrist. He rubbed the muzzle of the dog hidden in the darkness before lowering the styrofoam box into the back seat. Pez licked the pie once before inhaling the new food and sneezing repeatedly.
"You brought the mutt?" Salem rolled her eyes. "Why don't you get your roommate to take care of it?"
"Enzo? He killed a cactus, you think he could keep Pez alive?"
"You can't kill that thing, it's like a cockroach. I'm fairly certain I've seen it drink anti-freeze."
Reggie rubbed his hand over the dogs ears, "no she didn't! Besides, she doesn't ever hurt anybody. You didn't even know she was here until I mentioned it." He scratched behind her left ear, earning a low grunt that showed her contentment.
"That has to be the ugliest dog I've ever seen in my life. And it's obese."
"She can't help she's ugly or fat, now are you going to drive today or just make rude comments about my dog?" He shed his wet coat and slung it into the back of the car. "Now go."
"I'll throw you out of this car. I've done it once, I'll do it again. Don't tempt me."
Reggie buckled up, his rain soaked white shirt basically see through. If Salem wasn't in the car, he would've taken it off, along with his pants. There were few things worse than riding in a car with soggy clothes on, but riding in a car with Salem minus a few articles of clothing had to beat that. "This mission can't end fast enough," he sighed.
"Ditto," she muttered and shifted into drive, flooring them away from the diner.
The rain fell in waves, one minute it was as if Niagara Falls teleported onto their car and the next it was the drizzle Gene Kelly danced in in Singing in the Rain. Salem drove in silence, scanning the AM radio for any sign of life, but finding a station out of Chicago that spoke solely Russian and a constant all consuming static on the other channels.
Pez wormed her way from the back seat into Reggie's lap, facing him with a dropped jaw and lolling tongue.
"Can you banish that thing into the back seat?" Salem said, poking at it's hairless belly with an outstretched finger. The dog's relaxed way vanished as it happily jumped onto her with a yowl and wildly working tongue. Salem yelped, jerking the wheel.
"Don't do that!" Reggie yelled to the both of them as he grabbed the dog by the sunken hind legs and dragged it back onto his lap. "No Pez, no, bad dog. Bad dog, don't lick Salem."
"What even is that thing?!" Salem screamed as Reggie scratched behind the dog's head, earning a happy howl and a leg-thump. "That's not a dog, that's a chupacabra-snake mutt thing!"
Pez opened her mouth, black and pink tongue lolled out between protruding teeth that resembled a piranha's. Reggie tilted his head, fixing her pink collar. "She's just a mutt. Mom thinks she's mostly part Mexican hairless, with maybe some bulldog, maybe some Chinese crested, maybe a bit of everything."
"And a hundred percent inbred," Salem added as Pez gnawed on her pink and black dappled hind leg. The yellowed eyes perked to attention and Pez sneezed, cowering at the sound.
"No," Reggie said, gathering the confused and now struggling dog into his arms. "I love her and she is my dog, no matter how ugly she is."
"Gross."
The dog struggled as her master held on tighter, her legs flailed as the protruding jaw moved with a silent beg to be let loose. Salem muttered a curse and Reggie gasped. Hooded people stood in the road in front of them, enough to cover from one end to the other. They refused to move, even as Salem's headlights bounced across their bodies. She pressed down on the horn hard earning both a howl and a scream from the passenger seat.
"They aren't moving!" Reggie screamed, grabbing her arm. "Stop the car!"
"What is wrong with them?! Hold on!" Salem screamed, spinning the wheel while pressing the breaks. Reggie covered Pez with his body as everything went dark.
ns 172.69.58.106da2