The Sound of Wind

  **

  Hugo rolled down the car window, sticking his head into the whistling breeze. The sunlight felt pleasantly warm on his face and it smelled like spring; he smiled. Crysta and CJ’s quiet giggles filtered in from the backseat. He turned, peering over the back of his seat at them to see that they were leaning conspiratorially towards each other, smiling and laughing. Crysta hid her smile behind a white-gloved hand, and CJ was gnawing on a cinnamon bagel, snickering around it.

  They both looked so happy that they were sharing a private joke, that the fact that the backseat was smeared with blood, seemed incongruous. He was going to point it out, because the blood seeping between the seats was staining their dresses, but they were so deep in conversation that he didn’t want to bother them. Best to just find out where the blood was coming from himself. As if reading his thoughts, Sol pulled the car to the side of the road and lurched to an inelegant stop. Hugo climbed out of the car and headed towards the back. There was blood splattered on the bumper and the trunk was sunken inwards. The trunk creaked as he pried it open, but no light filtered into it. Hugo felt his heart start to hammer in his chest and his palms started to get damp. Dread washed over him as he reached a hand into the darkness to feel around, but there was nothing but the felt bottom of the trunk under his touch.

  “Looking for something?” He heard close to his ear, the voice curious and casual. A tart, bitter smell that Hugo couldn’t place accompanied the voice.

  “CJ?” He responded through a suddenly dry mouth, turning towards the sound. Adam was standing right behind him, giving him a vicious smile with a mouth full of broken teeth. Blood from popped blood vessels was welling in his eyes and trickling down his cheeks. There was dried blood staining his neck, and it flaked and rippled as the kid let out a giggling hiss. He reached out a stubby hand and Hugo screamed, backpedaling. His legs hit the car bumper and he tumbled backwards into the darkness of the trunk. It was ringing.

 

  Hugo’s body jerked, and a moment later he surged into a sitting position, gasping for air. He was at Gideon Enterprises. In a bed. It was dark. His blanket was in a tangle around his legs, but most of it had slithered onto the floor. He wiped his damp face with his hands, pushing hair out of his eyes. Nightmare. Just a nightmare. He tried to convince his heart of that, but it kept pounding and he still couldn’t get his breathing under control. He felt sick and his throat was raw, like he’d been swallowing seawater. Hugo bunched his hands into the blankets and stared at the wall, forcing his breathing to slow until his chest stopped hurting and his muscles relaxed. And then he realized the phone was ringing. Dr. McFadden was calling him. He fumbled the phone open, running a hand over his face.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.

  Crysta sounded concerned, “Did I wake you?”

  “No, no, it’s ok. So what happened?”

  “Let’s go get coffee,” she answered softly.

  “Alright, I’ll meet you outside,” Hugo hung up, rolled off the bed and teetered, nearly falling over in the puddle of blankets on the floor. He shuffled into the bathroom to wash away the drying sweat and the remnants of the nightmare. In the mirror he could see that the boring brown was overcoming the bleach in his increasingly shaggy hair like a dark tide. He brushed it away from his eyes, and then pushed away from the sink, walking out of the room and into the brightly lit, white corridors of Gideon Enterprises. He quickly left the building, avoiding the nervous looks he received along the way.

  Dr. McFadden was standing away from the door. She looked a little pale and started walking down the street the moment he caught up to her. “How did the meeting go? You came back in one piece, so that’s a good sign,” she asked, trying to sound casual, but her hands tightly clasped together in front of her.

  “It did, I think. We agreed to stay out of each other’s way.”

  “That’s good. Mr. Gideon’s deteriorating,” she responded, stopping a moment later at the realization of what she’d just said.

  Hugo stopped too, blinking, “What do you mean?”

  “He called me because he wasn’t feeling well, and when I saw him... Hugo, he’s mutating. He wasn’t trying to poison CJ and Patrick, he’s been poisoning himself, and they just happened to share food with him. From the amount of the Substance in his liver, I’d guess he’s been giving himself a low dose since the experiments stopped.”

  Hugo's mouth fell open, “What?”

  The doctor shook her head, "He had a small wing on his back! I had to remove it, and he doesn’t even know what’s happening to him! He’s completely nuts, he thinks he’s sick because of his diabetes that he doesn’t have. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I had to tell you," her eyes were dark and she was briskly smoothing out the wrinkles in her wrinkle free coat, "What am I supposed to do? He’ll refuse to take any medication to suppress the changes, and he’s just going to get worse. Much worse. And all Mr. Hansen wants me to do is keep it quiet.” She looked up at him as if she expected him to have the answer.

  He wanted to give her one, but he wasn't a doctor; there were only a few things he was any good at. Hugo carefully took one of her fidgeting hands, “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

  Crysta's eyes widened and then the panic completely left her face, replaced by concern, “I’ll think of something, there’s a solution in the inhibitor, I know it. I just have to come up with it. Give me some time.”

  Hugo let go of her hand, sticking his in his pockets, “If you want.”

  He would wait. But he was still going to kill Mr. Gideon.