The Fugitives: There's always a plan

Any Silver Bullet For Jones?

Walter went against the “now” order as he quickly called the laboratory courier to deliver the samples. The reason Holly Minard's blood was being tested wasn't known to Walter, nor even Joan. That was one of the secrets Melvin didn't share with them.

 His shoulders hunched forward, and his chest shook as he chuckled to himself about what a clever guy he was.

Seeing him, people generally considered him a fragile, pitiable minimal elderly person. But after knowing the savagery and detestable things he had done, one would like to put something between themselves or any other person they often thought about and him as quickly as possible.

He untied her but left her with cuffs used to restrain her, and switched off the processing room overhead lights as he helped Holly Minard to a wheelchair. She felt the fatigue and strain like a noose around her neck. 

She was tired and a jumbled mixture of thoughts were streaming in as if she had torn out some pages at random from her brain. She knew that she needed to calm herself down as much as possible so she could think and get it all straight in her memory.

“You okay?” Walter asked with a darling tone, which was all pretence as usual. Irritating words accompanied by prolonged annoyance were built-in her mind, but the fatigue trembling around her mouth caused a restriction. 

Despite just nodding affirmatively to Walter, her livid face conveys a contradictory response. 

 “You will be fine… I promise,” he stated as he grasped the hand rims of the wheelchair and pushed evenly forward towards the front yard and through the pervasive partially junk field that perpetually surrounded the quarter. 

There were bits and parts of derelict dump trucks, open barrels of spent oil, split tyres that wound in a trail through the field and an armory, vertically opposite to the door of the quarter. 

Immediately, they entered the quarter, they saw a man who was in his 50s, his curly brown hair was a reflection of his age. He wore a black windbreaker over a suit, and that was Melvin Otani. The ghost; as described by the police.

“What…? Why the pale face?” Melvin asked as they entered the quarter.

“Um… She's recovering.” Walter said, giving his head a scratch.

“Recovering?? You mean… Damn!! You gassed her out, you did, right?” Melvin was just showing eye service and Holly knew that.

“Why does he pretend as if he doesn't know the usual process, and why this caring attitudinal qualities, something is off here. Oh yeah, Holly Minard's attention… Maybe. Fuck!” He murmured to himself before replying and keeping his face neutral so that all mind-reading Melvin couldn't espy what he thought of from his looks.

“Yeah…I did gas her out.” He replied with a neutral face.

“Did you check her vitals?” Melvin asked with so much concern.

“Yes…I did.” He responded as he grabbed a bear from the refrigerator.

“She has eaten?” Melvin asked with his green eyes mirroring concern. His concern were always selfish, and Walter knew that too well.

“All these are not necessary, sir… You just can be that person, and I ain't answering these stupid questions anymore, enough of the play,” Walter concluded in his mind. He pretended to be drinking and not listening.

“I asked a question…!! “

“You…" He pretended to jolt and splash some bear spill.

"I…Erm, well, you never ---” He did finish before Melvin cuts in.

“It's okay.” He said as he squatted down and wrapped Holly Minard's hands into his.

“You probably need to look good. So, you will go into the bathroom, alright…. I will take the cuffs off, okay?” Melvin stated.

She affirmed by nodding. He took off the cuffs and helped her up, she would barely stand upright, she was half convinced the ground would be swept from under her feet. But she had to put on some pretence of no weakness. She held tightly to Melvin as she stood.

“Good! Go through this door.” He said, pointing towards the side door, “Next, take left, you will see a handle. If you pull it, you can take a shower. There is soap on the table. You don’t need to worry about a towel. There is warm air over the table that will dry you off.” His voice sounded like someone quite intelligent and had a calming tone.

But the message was hardly calming to Walter. It was creating a terrifying aura in his head, making him too uncomfortable. He could have done something about it if Melvin wasn't his boss.

Melvin gave out a wild grin as she shrugged towards the side door. What she did next brought out Melvin's unfeigned self. She took so much courage as she said,

“No matter what you do, you will never know about conundrum, and I ain't saying shit.”

Melvin didn't utter a word. It felt like all his plans scattered like a broken spectacle. He gave out an eminent order to the two lackeys guarding the entrance.

“Guard her… Make sure she doesn't leave your sight.”

“But I should be given some privacy…" She said with a wry tone.

“To hell with your privacy… Take her off my sight NOW!!.” Melvin said at the top of his voice.

Walter, who was pretending to distant himself from the reality of what was happening, got a phone call, and it was a signal for entrance.

“Boss… It's Joan, they're back.” He said, but Melvin shrugged off. It was left for Walter to do what he thought was right.

Joan with two broadly lackeys flounced in alongside their guns. He saw the disappointment on Melvin's face, even though he tried to conceal it. 

 Melvin's rule: No flaws 

And that was one of the most vital rules he had broken. But Melvin's principles had already been bent since the vaguely knowledge of the conundrum taunting him all these while. 

He would love to call Jones, but that would only show one of the disdainful things he loathe; inferiority complex.

“You broke one of my vital rules, what do you think will be your punishment Joan,” Melvin said as he stood up spreading both arms displaying a lofty personality. He actually had that personality.

“I know that face, what are the prons and cons, you got busted? Huh?” He said, walking lordly towards Joan. Joan was shorter than him but taller than Walter. 

Joan was slenderly built, hazel eyes and a golden brown hair, but he was currently bald just like Melvin.

The closer Melvin gets, the more Joan's built ergonomic mind was altered. A fretful feeling ran through his nous. All he could think of was what Melvin had done to past gang members.

“The other team got busted, boss.” Joan said, sounding apologetic.

“Can you hear yourself? The other team got busted, and you couldn't take those fuckin' bastards that did that?” Melvin said with an angry tone.

“I'm sorry, boss, I only got his name. Scott Walton.” Joan replied.

Melvin's eyes widened when he heard about Scott Walton.

“One second.” He turned, tapped a combination of eight numbers on an electronic door locked behind him. He was so fast that Walter, who was beside him, saw everything, undoubtedly but couldn't memorize.

The door made a beeping sound, and he shouldered it, held it open with his back and brought out a handful of photographic albums to which he tugged a picture from.

“Him?” He said, holding a picture towards him.

“Yes…!! He's the one.” Joan said. Melvin's heart stopped for a moment, his mouth was instantly dry.

‘Calm down’ He said inwardly.

Surely, what happened two years ago was fading in his memories. Scott Walton's murder made national headlines at the time when he shot him, despite not recalling the exact spot. 

“Is there a problem, boss,” Walter asked concernedly.

“Not a problem that can't be handled… But it's his survival that keeps me wondering how that happened.”

“I killed him two years ago in Atlanta,” he added.

“He might have survived and….” Walter couldn't finish up before Melvin interrupted.

“We got a bigger problem to worry about… Inform team three, Jones goes down first.”

“Jones?” They questioned in unison.

“Yes… Jones, the imposing Tomica Schwann.” Melvin replied.

“We don't have his current location, how do we go about that sir?"