Page 13 of Anarchy Missing

CHAPTER FIVE - CASE

I head out of work a couple hours early so I can get up to Lincoln’s house in the mountains at a decent hour. As it is, I’ll probably be there most of the evening, depending on what kind of tests Sheila wants to run on me.

I’m conflicted about how much I want her to know.

Do I want her to figure out what’s wrong with me and make adjustments? Sure. I’d love it if she shot me up with something Lincoln’s been cooking up in that cave of his and all this shit disappeared.

Do I want her to know just how deep these abnormalities run? Just how bad it’s gotten that carving up my skin with a knife is the only way I can find relief?

No. A very big emphatic no.

But there’s almost no chance of her finding out. I’ve been up here so many times for tests. And each time I feel the same way. Hoping she won’t, but wishing she will.

The drive up the pass to Lincoln’s massive six-hundred-plus-acre property starts out wet and ends up icy.

The snow held off all day until the exact moment I need to navigate twisted mountain roads.

My luck is amazing. I can’t get any more blessed than this.

I startle myself with a loud laugh, then shoot a look into the rear-view mirror. My eyes are bloodshot from the nightly activities and there’s a dark shadow forming underneath them.

My palm slaps the spot on my upper left arm where I always carve the same thing, over and over. There’s no pain leftover from my self-inflicted damage. No tenderness. And if I wasn’t wearing a coat and could look at it right now, there’d be no trace of redness, swelling, or scarring.

How many times can I cut myself in the same place and have it leave no mark?

Forever? Does that mean I’m… immortal? How much trauma would it take to kill me? Am I invincible?

I wish I could ask Sheila these questions. But I’m afraid Lincoln would tell Thomas. And after that… well, I’d be out of the plan. They’d send me somewhere. Or maybe just keep me prisoner up here in Lincoln Country.

“Don’t be stupid, Case.” I look at my reflection in the mirror again. “They’d send you straight to the asylum. But hey, at least I’d go to the new building.”

Atticus blew up the old one when he kidnapped his mother. Who is also Molly’s mother. Adopted one, at least. Who knows who her real mother is. Maybe she and Thomas are straight siblings? We’ll never know. All those genetic records were lost when we blew up the Prodigy School back when we were kids.

We might have an unhealthy obsession for explosives.

“No,” I say. It would be a very bad idea to tell Sheila about anything. Let her find it herself… if she can. I’ll deal with that if it happens. But until then, I need to keep my head, keep my own confidence, and try my best to figure this shit out. Maybe when I’m there tonight I can search through Lincoln’s lab notes? They always do the tests in his cave. And I know they have notes on everything they’ve done on the computer in that room. Back when Lincoln was experimenting on himself Sheila would record everything. Adding it to his lengthy health history. Maybe I could get my hands on that? Figure out what this jellyfish stuff really does, and maybe why it’s working so differently on me?

Lincoln’s new driveway is more like a five-mile road. But at least it’s no longer dirt. When he started rebuilding the mansion that’s the first thing he upgraded so the construction crews could have access to the lot where he wanted to build the new house.

The mansion isn’t fully complete yet on the inside, but from the outside you’d never know. It’s a massive ten-thousand-square-foot monstrosity with four levels including the attic and basement, and a guest house in the back that Molly jokingly calls the mother-in-law apartment.

Sheila doesn’t stay there, of course. They did set up her light projectors, but she refuses on principle to be sequestered away from “the family”. Sheila stays in the cave and has limited access to the kitchen, the laundry room, and most of the first floor.

Apparently she’s been cramping Lincoln’s style and the upstairs is verboten.

Didn’t stop her from drafting new plans for a nursery connected to the master bedroom during construction.

I think I might smile for the first time all day just picturing Lincoln and Molly’s face when they walked into their new house for the first time and found a completely outfitted baby’s room.

You gotta appreciate Sheila’s tenacity.

Molly isn’t ready for a baby yet. She’s just settling into her detective job for the CCPD. And Linc? Well, I don’t know if Lincoln will ever be fit to parent a child.

Their house comes into view and I take a moment to appreciate the dark gray, stone manor.

It’s snowing pretty good by the time I get out of the car and I find myself wishing I had just gone home.

Gone is the hope of finding anything out. I just know something is wrong and it’s got nothing to do with what Sheila and Linc did to me.