THE ENEMY WITHIN

THE ENEMY WITHIN Chapter 11

*

Jamie crushed a peanut shell and tossed the empty husk on the floor. She and Vincent sat at the bar, bookending Max. They were eating greasy burgers in a biker joint deep in the Nevada Mountains. The scent of beer and charbroiled meat permeated the air. All the men had beards and, sadly, so did some of the women. Flannel and denim appeared to be the only fashion statement of choice.

There had been little conversation since his incident. The reminder of their mortality made the football game feel like a lifetime ago.

Noah sat alone in a dark corner spinning a knife around and around.

When Vincent and Jamie ordered a beer, the bartender rubbed his grizzly cheek with a doubtful grin. He asked to see their ID. Jamie waved her hand like Obi-Wan in Star Wars. She must have been feeling theatrical. "You don't need to see our ID's. We can have as many beers as we like." The bartender nodded as if this was precisely what he'd been thinking.

Max glanced at Jamie with a hint of reproach. She smiled cutely as if mind control were no big thing. "Live a little. Might not get the chance to later," she said.

"It was worse this time," Vincent said.

"No point dwelling on it," Jamie said, stealing one of Max's fries. "Just need to end it."

"It's like a cruel joke," Vincent said, watching the bar through the mirror.

Jamie took another fry. Max slid the plate over to her and took a drink. The beer tasted bitter. "What's the joke?"

"All our lives, we could do astounding things - Gods among men. But we had to keep it secret or we'd be outcast. Look where you ended up. Now it might be stripped away before ..." Vincent trailed off.

Condensation on the Heineken bottle slid down the side. "Time's winding down and you're the last key," Vincent said, taking a long swig.

Max looked at him. "What key?"

"Later," Vincent said, "when the time is right."

"Really? You're still holding things back?" Max said.

"Think we've been pretty straight," Jamie said as she pushed away from the bar and went to join Noah.

Vincent wiped his hands on the napkin. "We've gone pretty far for someone we only met a couple nights ago. Maybe you could show a little faith in us the way we have with you." He walked out of the bar.

Vincent was right. They were all under the same shadow, but the others somehow held it together - at least on the surface. He needed to find a way to do the same or he'd be useless to them.

The bartender dropped the bill in front of Max. He fished around in his pockets and realized he didn't have any money.

Noah's words about sharing the same basic abilities played over in Max's head. Maybe somewhere within him was the ability to plant the seeds of thought, too. A simple wave of his fingers like a magician with a hypnotic voice, all guided by a mind more powerful than anyone could possibly grasp – he could do this. "You've already been paid," he said, hand moving through the air. "The money is right there on the bar, as you can plainly see."

The bartender looked at him like he might be cerebrally impaired. "Something wrong with you?"

"I take it you don't see any money?" Max asked, hope fading fast.

"Do you see any money?" the bartender shot back.

Max admitted that he did not.

"It's like watching baby Godzilla trying to breathe fire for the first time," Jamie said.