Page 9 of Sinner
Five
When Flint had arrivedat his desk, he took off his hat and set about his routine. Every day he did the same things. Started his computer, popped in some mint chewing gum, tidied his papers and machine parts, answered his emails, and filled out his schedule in his daily planner. And lastly, he touched each of the smooth pebbles Sister Mary had gifted him and made sure they sat in order of size, from biggest to smallest.
He’d started his collection by picking up flat smooth rocks on his morning run. Mary must have seen his collection, or perhaps he’d mentioned his strange fascination once in the coffee room, because she dropped off pebbles when she thought no one was watching. Except, her pebbles had hidden messages painted underneath them. Usually just a casual quote, or joke… nothing to show it was her, but Flint had caught her on the security tapes. She never mentioned the rocks, so he didn’t ask, thinking it was just another secret between them.
Flint liked to leave boxes of chocolates and treats in the fridge labeled innocently asSister Mary’s, don’t touch!Today it was the chocolate pudding.
Remembering the fallen paper that had escaped Mary’s pocket in the lobby, Flint pulled it out and opened it. Gibberish. Code.
He frowned.
Was this another secret between them, or something else?
A loud sound at another desk had him packing the coded letter away. He had no time now. First, there was footage to erase. Then, the final diagnostics on his new disruptor gadget, a round metal sphere. Ten o’clock was only an hour away, and the boss would be in.
The device was perfect. It worked as planned.
He had to show Barry.
Flint navigated back to the lab nearest the reception area. His friend Barry bustled about his station, laying metallic tools and supplies on the bench. Barry was a few years younger than Flint, shorter too. He was part Indian, part British, part douchebag because what he lacked in centimeters, he more than made up for in brains and had the ego to match. No one else in this lab was smarter than him—except maybe Gloria. No one else put up with Flint’s grump and snark, but Barry did. That’s because his snark was just as good.
They’d been friends since Barry and Flint sat in the same group interview room eight years ago. They had asked the thirty people in the room a series of stupid questions, like—what sound does a dog make, then asked to do the sound. Most people barked like dogs, but not Barry and Flint. Instead, they asked divergent questions like, is the dog from this planet? What breed of dog is it. Is it a real dog, or inanimate? Barry and Flint were the only two to get the job. That was eight years ago.
A familiar pang sliced through Flint’s chest and suddenly, he was back there—eight years earlier and just after the worst decision in his life. Just before he got the job at Biolum Industries, he’d been out drinking with a buddy. When it was time to go home, he’d been so intoxicated he could barely stand straight, but he’d still had the sense to think,We shouldn’t drive home.Pity his sense didn’t extend to his mouth. He should have stopped his friend, but his mother’s home was only five minutes down the road, and Flint was too lazy to drive another five minutes to his apartment.
The next morning, Flint’s shrill phone had woken him up. He still remembered the pause the police woman gave before she spoke, and the sound of a kettle whistling in his mother’s kitchen. After dropping Flint off, his buddy had continued on and crashed into a car, killing himself and a mother and father, leaving a baby girl orphaned.
Not a day went by that he didn’t regret his negligence. He played scenarios over in his head. What if he’d said for his friend to stay at his for the night? What if he’d called him a cab? He could have taken his keys… she’d still have her parents, maybe a brother or sister… No amount of money could make up for that loss, but when he’d heard about Biolum Industries and their humanitarian project, Flint had signed up the very next day so he could forward most of his paycheck to the orphaned girl. That pang stabbed again. He’d probably always feel it, but each time he sent money to that child, it eased a little more.
“Greetings and salutations,” Barry said as he lifted the lid on a glass cylinder filled with a preserved specimen. Ethanol or some other alcoholic fragrance filled the air as it splashed over the rim and onto Barry’s white lab coat.
Flint almost gagged. “Shit, how can you stand that smell?”
“How can you stand the smell of melted metal when you’re soldering?”
“I use a mask.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t toxic, just stinky.”
Flint waved his hand across his nose and watched in fascination as his friend pulled a lifeless form out of the cylinder with tweezers and laid it on a metallic pad. Amphibian.
“What is it?” Flint asked as he reorganized Barry’s tools without permission. He couldn’t help it. Barry was a mess.
“This, my good friend, is a Hairy Frog,” Barry declared.
Flint laughed. “Okay, I can see it’s hairy, but what’s it called?”
“Its scientific name isTrichobatrachus Robustus. Highly terrestrial, carnivorous and… see those?” Barry lifted a front limb with the tweezers. “Bone claws that extend from its fingertips when under attack. When they retract, the damaged tissue regenerates. Magic.”
“Cool.”
“Not as cool as this.” Barry pulled another jar from a shelf lined with specimens. He unscrewed the cap and lifted out another slimy slug like creature. “This is an Axolotl. It can regenerate complete body parts—even major organs like a brain. And that slimy slug-face over there is aTardigradeor Water Bear as it’s more commonly known.” Barry’s intelligent eyes held Flint’s for dramatic effect. “It can survive for up to one hundred and twenty years without food, invulnerable to freezing or boiling, and can withstand six times the equivalent of the ocean’s pressure.”
Flint whistled in awe, then placed his gadget on the bench. “But can it disrupt three floors of tech like this?”
“No shit? Three floors?”
“Yup. I’m gonna get the bonus.”
