Jennifer Rardin - [Jaz Parks 1] - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

'Cole?' I stepped forward and he said, 'Stop.' The word came out slurred, mostly due to his fat lip, but I also noticed a couple of gaps where he'd had teeth the last time we talked.

'We've got to get out of here,' I urged him.

'Can't.'

'What?'

He shifted his gaze and I followed his eyes to a dark, lifeless t.v. that sat on top of a round, wooden bar stool. It blinked to life and within seconds I was involved in a staring match with Mohammed Khad Abn-Assan.

Mostly for Vayl's benefit I said, 'Assan, what are you doing on t.v.? Don't you know scumbags like you have been outlawed by the FCC?'

'Good evening, Lucille. Or should I say Jasmine? We appreciate your quick arrival. Gives us some extra time to prepare.'

'For what?'

He chuckled, flashing a couple of gold fillings as he looked off camera, sharing his amusement with his comrades. 'Why, the end of the world as we know it.'

The fear that spiked through me fueled my comeback. 'You know, you could be killed for throwing cliches around like they actually mean something. However, I believe I'll kill you for your other crimes instead. Starting with your wife's death.'

Cole made a desolate, lost sound that demanded comfort. But I couldn't give it. Not now, while I was still locked in conversation with Assan. He laughed again, his absolute lack of remorse making me feel truly murderous. 'You are a jewel. How fortunate for us both that my master has created the perfect setting for you.'

'Bozcowski's not a master. He's a slave to his own psychotic fantasies.' And the Raptor, I'm just sure of it, if I only had proof.

My comment worked like peanut butter on a mousetrap. No sooner had I laid it down than here came the rodent himself, leaping into the camera frame, red-faced and defiant. I expected him to bluster, but he pulled it together fast. He actually smoothed his thick, stubby fingers through his gray-blond hair and straightened his navy blue suit coat. Ah, the magic of television.

'You are a straight talking woman, aren't you?' he said. 'Well then, I'll give it to you straight. Your actions in the next few minutes will determine whether or not your young man dies. You see, we've strapped a clever little device beneath the seat of his chair. If his weight leaves that chair, it will explode, destroying the two of you, the club and most of the block it sits on. Think of the loss of innocent life.'

'Go on.'

'I can disarm it temporarily from my present position, but only for the ten seconds it would take for you to switch places with him.'

Scumbag. 'You don't mind if I check out your story, do you?'

He beamed at me as if I'd just won him a bet. His jowls quivered with pleasure, reminding me of that bulldog from the old cartoon. Would he come prancing into the room if I yelled, 'Oh Belvedere, come here boy!' I hid a smirk at the mental image as he said, 'Of course not, feel free.'

I knelt in the dust of Club Undead's attic and peered under the chair. Yup, definitely a bomb. I had seen similar devices in bomb squad manuals under the heading, 'Run Like Hell!' I had that sinking-in-quicksand feeling that anything we tried now would only make us descend deeper and die sooner.

I stood up again, my mind looping around a single word—run, run, run, run—and providing the Pink Floyd soundtrack to back it. A roaring began in my ears, and it had nothing to do with my reconfigured hearing aides. The blackness came next, creeping into my peripheral vision like a feral dog, making my face tingle, making my eyes water. Instinct made me stiffen, resist. It felt so much like losing control, being engulfed in some other, more powerful personality.

I looked at Cole and my heart began its own chant. Get him out, get him safe, whatever it takes, whatever it takes, whatever…

I let my head fall forward and closed my eyes. Without the distraction of sight, I could feel the blackness towering over my psyche like a monstrous storm-filled sky. I resisted the urge to bolt. I didn't invite it in. I just listened. Instantly the roaring sounded less like the Atlantic hammering Florida during Hurricane Charlie and more like… a voice. All it said was, 'Let yourself go,' but the words carried a richer meaning, showed me exactly what needed to be done.

I raised my head and opened my eyes, catching Bozcowski in such a look of greedy anticipation that I was suddenly reminded of the villain who starred in many of my childhood nightmares, the kid-snatcher from 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.'

'Why me?' I asked.

'Previous experience has taught us we need a willing sacrifice. Taking Cole's place makes you willing. It also eliminates the irritation you've been causing.' As if I was a hangnail. But there's power in being so severely underestimated.

I addressed Assan. 'So that's why using Amanda's brother in India failed, huh? He wasn't a willing sacrifice. Way to read the fine print, dufus.'

Assan's eyes nearly crossed with fury at my disrespect, but something made him look off-camera, then move aside. Aidyn Strait joined him and Bozcowski in front of the lens and I fought to remain calm, to mask the fury that whipped through me with stunning force.

'There is no such thing as a failed experiment,' Aidyn informed me. 'I was working on an entirely different project when I discovered the red plague quite by accident. And I could never have developed it without a series of trials helping me refine it to full potency.'

The Red Plague? Such a simple name for something designed to be so horrific. I felt sure we were only going to get one chance to turn the tide, so I kept playing along, fishing for information, watching for some slip that would betray their weakness. I said, 'That's what I don't get. Why don't you just let it spread the way the flu does? Why