Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter forty

CHAPTER 40

*For MadelineJanelsMe, who could not wait another single second, for Reckless_03 a constant support and for Bookworm2thebone, a new addition to the hardcore fandamily. Thank you for encoraging me to write <3*

    When I came back, I felt like I was being suffocated. And it took me five seconds to realise I was. 

As I began to move, I found myself awkwardly surrounded by plastic- it was thick and black, and I could see nearly nothing, except for tiny pinpricks of light straight down the centre of my field of vision. I brought my hands up and felt the teeth of a closed zip. I traced my fingertips up and over my head, before I found the small, hard bit of metal at the top of the bag. I hooked a fingernail around it and finally dragged it down, letting in fresh air and unzipping the black body bag I'd been laid in.

I sat up, my eyes assaulted by the flashing lights that accompanied copious police cars and ambulances. I raised my had- way gross and dirty and pawed at my neck, covered in disgusting, dry-ish and congealing, rust coloured blood. The other hand rubbed at my eye and cheek, smearing the thick, rusty sludge at my forehead.

    "Yuck." I snorted.

I shimmied my way out of the bag, standing up. I swayed on my heeled feet then quickly shook my head. Three cops stood in conversation with two EMTs around the back of an open truck bed, seemingly discussing the wreck and ignoring the four body bags lined up outside the two ambulances. And – yep, I thought as I checked my pockets and the small of my back. That was my gun they had in front of them; it was one of many.

So I stumbled over, steps getting surer till I was right on them. 

     "'Scuse me." I said politely, tapping on the shoulder of the EMT. He turned, annoyance on his face, before seeing me and going deadly pale. 

"You're-" he cut himself off and his hands started shaking. The cops turned to look and froze. "Derick." One cop said, horror in his expression. "Isn't that the DOA?" Derick, the EMT, nodded.

"Yup." I said. "I was dead. Not so much anymore but that's a long story. So pardon me." I stepped past and plucked two weapons from the truck bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" one of the officers roared. The other stood in shock. The first cop caught me by the bicep.

   I turned. Sighed.

"Look, dude. You know I was dead when you got here. You saw the gunshot wound yourself, I bet. And now you know I'm back and my neck's all healed. Now I'm not saying it's the work of the Devil and I'm not saying it's the work of God, but do you really wanna piss either one off by standing in my way?" the cop looked very confused. Horrified. Scared enough that I could step past all of them and continue on my way.

I moved past the wreckage and the poor dude directing traffic around us. Then I crossed the lane, crossed the no man's land, and stood in the lane going the opposite direction. It being Chicago and all, it took about five seconds for a cab to peel off the road in front of me. I got in the back. 

"Killer costume dude!" the cabbie called, bringing with him the potent smell of herb. "Thanks, bruh." Halloween, right. I rattled off Matthew's home address and closed my eyes, contemplating my options.

Matthew was an old-school dude, but he appreciated the new school too. Which was why, when I clicked on his laptop, I was glad to find it hadn't been logged out, and so no passcode was required. Red-brown flecks speckled and cracked off my skin like rust on to the surface of the white Mac book, bet I didn't care as much as I thought I would. It took me a minute to find his contacts and, lo and behold, there it was. Thank God for Syncing.

As Matthew's house phone rang in my ear, I stripped. 

     "Come on, come on." I hissed. The shirt came off like it was plastered to me and pained flecks of dry blood to the floor. I hobbled my way over to the shower, kicked off the heels and began wiggling out of bloody slacks. 

    "Yo-"

"Wellington." I cut him off. "They've got Matthew."

It took us fifteen minutes to come up with a solid plan. That plan involved me first taking a shower, because ew. The blood came off of me like a layer of sludgy skin and no matter how I scrubbed, I still felt unclean. I pulled my hair into a tight Dutch braid that would keep it out of my face and donned my my dark skinny jeans, black boots and a long sleeved grey shirt. And then, without thinking about it too much, I grabbed a thick, dark hoodie from Matthew's closet and put it on, unzipped but hood up.

It took me three minutes to remember where Matthew put the keys to the Silverado, and another two to grab my bag and go out to it.

The drive home would be long, and as I sat in the deafening silence of Matthew's truck, the powerful engine at my beck and call, the quiet began to suffocate me and I was forced to think.

Wellington and Matthew's team desperately wanted to help- but that would involve them being read in and that was not something I was prepared to do. Not Yet. Maybe not ever.

    I sped through a red light.

Wellington had triangulated Matthew's comm signal as it bounced off of towers. They were still on the road, traveling away from Chicago and toward Blue Grove. I didn't know where they were going, but I had a good guess. Duncan was clearly the dramatic, Bond villain kind of bad guy, and his flair for drama made me think he's want to end it where it started; Silver Valley.

     My hands began shaking. ters pricked at my nose and painful goosebumps rose. Was Matthew dead? Oh God.

I shook my head fast and hard, blurring the street lights ahead. The highways were mostly clear at this godawful hour of the morning, and I drove at least ten miles and hour faster than the speed limit at all times. Miraculously, I wasn't pulled over.

I'll spare you the rest of the car ride. It was ugly. I sobbed a lot, called Wellington a bunch and cursed myself for not having the Cavalier's phone number. But what was important was that I got there in two hours less time than it had taken Matthew, but still not faster than the truck transporting Matthew's family. They had, low and behold, pulled into Silver Valley. They were so close I could feel it.

I didn't know what time it was when I pulled up to the Cavalier home. the sun was shining; I guessed it was just after midday.

To shorten a ceaselessly long story, I blurted it all out to both of the cavalier parents and Joey, who only insulted me three times during the retelling.

It ended with a long silence. Gabbe took in a shaky breath. Alex stomped up and down the living room in fury. Joey sat with his face in his hands. I sat across the coffee table to gabbe, my shoulders shaking and every muscle feeling raw and abused. My throat felt tight and dry, and my eyes were scratchy from the tears, and yet I still knew that emotionally, 'd barely dipped my big toe into the vast ocean of emotion I could feel creating tidal waves in my mind. It was something I'd have to work through and soon if I wanted to stay sane.

Gabbe took a shuddering breath.

     "Your mother was born Ameliah Shaska Mikarov." Gabbe began. Alex whipped his head at her and began chewing on the inside of his lip in the same way I'd seen people play with snake bite piercings when nervous. I guess some nervous ticks never die.

"And your father, Dimitri Aleksandr Orlov. She was born and raised in Saint. Petersburg, and then in high school she was offered a scholarship to-"

    "Gabbe. Stop, right now. This is too danger-"

"This girl has gone through enough, Alex!" Gabbe yelled suddenly, tears falling free of her eyes. "She deserves the truth right now, and if Katerina disagrees, she can shoot me for all I goddamned care. These secrets have ruined this family long enough!"

Alex stood silently, before slowly nodding.

Gabbe took a shaky breath and finally, finally, someone told me the truth.  

*****