Enigma Black (3 page)

“A blast killed three people and critically injured five more at the Flamingo Resort and Casino in Atlantic City shortly after three o’clock this morning. The explosion took out the lobby of the casino, damaging much of the gaming floor. Fortunately, due to the timing of this travesty, there were minimal people on the floor at the time. The cause of this incident remains under investigation, but many believe it to be linked to similar incidences that occurred in Philadelphia, Dover and Baltimore within the last month…”

I turned off the television and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. What if Lucy was right? There had to be a reason for all of this. This couldn’t just be random, could it? Coming to the conclusion that I was becoming just as paranoid as she was, I put all thoughts of Armageddon to rest and closed my eyes.

****

“Celaine, dinner’s ready,” Carol called.

“Huh?” I sat up groggily looking at the clock on my desk. Apparently, I’d fallen asleep. Who would’ve thought that staring at the ceiling wasn’t stimulating enough to keep a person conscious?

“Celaine!”

“I’ll be right down,” I said.

It was time for another rousing Stevens’ dinner. I stood up slowly making my way downstairs. Not surprisingly, they’d already started eating without me. When it came to food, my family meant business.

“So nice of you to join us,” my father said sarcastically.

I dished up a plate of lasagna for myself. Besides grilled cheese and spaghetti, lasagna was just about the only other thing Carol knew how to make, ensuring that we ate those three meals quite frequently. Suffice it to say, she was no Betty Crocker.

“I was talking to Claire today at work,” Carol began. “Apparently, her and Bob are considering building a bomb shelter in their backyard what with all the mayhem that has been occurring lately.”

“Is that a fact?” my dad replied with slight bemusement.

“Yeah, they’re really freaked out. Bob says that if there’s another bombing he’s selling the house and moving out of the city altogether.”

“Bob has always been one to overreact.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, these attacks…they seem to be occurring more frequently…in more heavily

populated areas. I mean, what if they start bombing highways or, or…schools.”

“Carol.”

I stole a glance over at Jake, relieved to see him building a garlic bread town in his lasagna, completely oblivious to what was being discussed.

“Carol,” my dad began, clearly exasperated, “more than likely these attacks are being carried out by copycats. The problem lies with the media…they sensationalize this crap to the point where those psychopaths tune in to see it. They think they’ll get their names in the history books if they set out to best what has already been done. It’s their attempt to instill further panic. By building a bomb shelter or uprooting our lives we’d be doing nothing but fanning the flames they’ve created.”

George hadn’t been himself lately. His unflappable demeanor had mysteriously changed overnight. We’d all noticed that he seemed slightly more anxious lately, but couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason behind it. Our best guess was that it was due to more stress being put on him at work. He was extremely well-respected by his colleagues and peers. Some even speculated that he would be in the running for the chief of staff position when the current chief retired later next year. Whatever it was, George wasn’t talking about it and repeated enquiries from Carol were doing nothing to lighten his mood.

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” Carol said, clearly deflated, “But still, these incidences are a little disconcerting.”

My fork scraped the bottom of my plate creating a bloodcurdling shriek that brought me back down to reality. Something about my parents’ discussion surrounding the attacks hadn’t set well with me. “Thanks for dinner, Mom,” I said as I stood up.

“You’re welcome sweetie,” she replied. “Oh, Celaine.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to the mall tomorrow to pick up some last minute gifts. Do you want to come with us?”

“Darn skippy.” I was happy to hear the conversation returning to an iota of normalcy. My father chuckled.

“She’s one strange child,” I heard my mom mutter.

“You got that right,” Jake said.

“Jake, what the heck is that?” my father asked.

“I’m building a replica of Washington, D.C. See, here’s the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument.…”

“For Pete’s sake, Jake, eat your dinner,” George grumbled. I could tell George wished he’d just stayed at the hospital tonight instead of coming home.

“And you think
I’m
weird,” I called out as I headed back upstairs.

“It’s not being weird, it’s channeling my creativity,” Jake called after me.

“I’ve heard that President Brooks thinks the attacks are becoming more organized,” Carol said, returning to the topic of my and George‘s disdain. “He believes we may be dealing with a domestic terrorist organization bent on staging some sort of a coup. They’re talking about institutionalizing a nationwide curfew because of it.”

I stopped in my tracks halfway up the stairs as I strained to listen.

“That will never happen,” George countered. “It would be like spitting on the Constitution. The people simply wouldn’t allow it.”

Chapter Three

The Lakes

My father, mother and brother were murdered on a snowy December afternoon just days before Christmas. In hindsight, I know a part of me died with them.

It was dull, drab December day during the Christmas shopping season when Carol, George, Jake and I made our way into the mall packed with the usual holiday traffic. This time of year, the city turned into a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare. Sure, there was an aura of glee and merriment in the air. It was, after all, just mere days before the big event. Permeating the atmosphere were the aromas of evergreens, sugar cookies, and cinnamon acting like effervescent buffers to keep the usual smell of exhaust fumes at bay. Those sights and smells are what I firmly believed prevented a person from going absolutely insane as they spent an eternity in line buying something that was probably only going to get returned anyway.
Merry freaking Christmas
.

The Lakes was a plethora of retail paradise where all fads were exploited to the max, ensuring that every last penny was squeezed out of the pocketbooks of the unassuming. Fads weren’t my thing. I marched to the beat of my own drummer, much to the dismay of George and Carol. But what I lacked for in compliance with the usual social norms, I made up for with my academic achievements and overall uneventful teenage years, thus earning my parents’ trust. So, when Jake decided that my hair looked better with Smoothie in it, they didn’t protest to my sudden need to break away.

“It’s not fair,” Jake said. “She always gets to go out on her own.”

“Well, Jake,” my father chimed in. “Perhaps your mother and I could trust you, too, if we weren’t so sure something would be lit on fire in our absence.”

“That was
one
time!” Jake protested.

“Tell that to Ms. Jacobson’s cat,” Carol added.

It’d taken nearly a full year for ole’ Smokey’s coat to grow back after Jake’s infamous experimentation with bottle rockets, and still the cat just wasn’t the same. Poor Smokey now walked with his head tilted and the smell of singed hair never fully left him. In a sick, twisted way, I had to laugh at the irony of this occurring to a cat named Smokey. In the aftermath, Jake had learned that, like elephants, cats, too, never forgot being wronged. Since the incident, every time Smokey would see Jake outside, he’d crouch low to the ground with a maniacal stare etched across his feline face, plotting his revenge.

“Meet us at the third floor parking ramp at five-thirty,” George said.

“No problem, Geo…Dad.” My parents were very liberal when it came to us using their first names, but my dad still managed to wince every time his name escaped my lips, forcing me to keep my “Georges” and “Carols” to a minimum.

Thanking my parents for the moment of freedom, I stuck my tongue out at Jake as I bounded away. It was a juvenile move, but I knew that it nonetheless managed to get under his skin and, well, wasn’t that my job?

I’d always felt such a profound sense of freedom after breaking loose from my parents. So much so that, without someone being there to tell me what to do and when to do it, I usually ended up just wandering around aimlessly. There was nothing I needed to do, nor was there anything in particular I really wanted to look for, which didn’t help matters. Scouring around the various shops, I traversed the mall until finally deciding to check out a store pedaling memorabilia from the 80’s. I didn’t know what it was about the 80’s that drew me in and theorized that I was subconsciously channeling my parents’ long-forgotten youth, when they were just a young couple in love with no children to blow up random animals.

From the moment I entered the store, I was in all my neon, bangle bracelet, big-haired, legging-wearing glory and it was apparent that the store’s employees took their jobs very seriously. With stirrup pants and oversized off the shoulder sweaters they looked like something straight out of a Tiffany video. Canvassing my surroundings, I rummaged through hair ties, abnormally large t-shirts, and striped leg warmers. I meandered through the store, killing time more than I was actually browsing. After finding a sales bin, I managed to do a bit of digging and located a pair of neon pink hoop earrings to make my time in the store worth it. The electric yellow leggings stuck to the earrings I selected were still a bit of a stretch for me, but I figured I’d graduate to them eventually.

After purchasing the earrings, I walked back out into the mall where I found my way through a maze of oversized candy canes, swam through a sea of impatient children, and maneuvered through the crowds until finally locating a restroom. As far as public restrooms go, The Lakes wasn’t half bad. It still wasn’t clean enough to meet my standards, but if it were an emergency I would suck it up and hover. As I entered, Christmas carols were blaring over the speakers. It would have been a welcoming sound, deviating from the utter chaos of the mall, if not for the fact that I’d been forced to listen to
Jingle Bells
for the last two months now. I truly was beginning to loathe the Holiday Season and all its ho-ho-hokey glory. Setting my purse down on the sink, I removed the earrings from the neon green plastic bag fastening them to my earlobes to inspect them in the mirror.

“Not too shabby, Celaine, not too shabby,” I said to myself, much to the amusement of those within earshot.

I decided to pin my hair back to let my new earrings take center stage. Just as I brought my arm up into view, however, I happened to take a glance at my watch and was struck by the time. 5:45! There goes my freedom for the next couple of months. Without hesitation, I bolted out of the bathroom sprinting, not too gracefully, through the crowds of people, eliciting gasps, expletives and overall general irritation in my wake. I wasn’t an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but I could run when I had to. My hope was that my parents had completely lost track of time, meaning that I would remain the dependable, punctual daughter they thought me to be. No such luck.

Jake stood beaming as he watched me approaching. This was no doubt his vindication for my earlier sisterly gesture.

“There you are,” my mother proclaimed. “Really, Celaine, we’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I just completely lost track of time and, well, there was a long line to get into the bathroom and.…”

“To what? Check out your new earrings? Young lady, I’m not as gullible as you make me out to be. If there’s one gene of mine that I know for sure I passed on to you, it’s an aversion to public restrooms.”

Damn
. “I’m sorry, Mom. It won’t happen again.”

“Let’s get going,” George said. “It’s really starting to snow out there.”

Dejected, I followed my family out of the mall to the parking ramp with Jake snickering beside me the entire time. The weather had taken a turn for the worse; that much was evident even in the cement sanctity of the parking ramp. Snow flurries whipped through rows of automobiles ricocheting off their plastic bodies and inevitably embedding themselves in my flesh. I shuddered, trying not to think about the fact that I’d completely neglected to wear any other means of protection from the elements other than my hooded sweatshirt.

After taking a couple of wrong turns and attempting to break into a vehicle that happened to be the identical twin to ours, we finally made it back to our car.

“Celaine, could you give me a hand with this, please?” Carol asked me.

“Sure thing.”

I grabbed the packages out of my mother’s hands and located room for them in the corner of the trunk.

“Bag lady,” Jake sneered.

“Is that the best you got, little man?” I asked.

“Enough,” George quipped.

George started the car as I strapped myself in with my iPod to prepare for the hour journey back home in our winter wonderland. With my mind now at ease, I began sensing that there was something not quite right. Something was missing; something whose identity presented itself just as we were about to pull out of the third floor parking ramp.

“Do you have any gum by chance?” Carol asked me, leaning back from the front seat.

“Yeah, let me get my p…”

“Your what?”

“My…uh…purse.”

“Okay. So, where is it?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”

“Oh, Celaine,” the usually calm and collected George said, clearly aggravated.

“It’s in the restroom, isn’t it?” Carol asked.

“I do vaguely remember setting it down there.”

In the rear view mirror, I could see the vein in George’s neck beginning to bulge, his face turning a bright shade of red.

“How could you be so careless?” Carol asked, digging in some more.

At this point, Jake was giggling like a school girl. Christmas had come early for him.