Free Out of Reach by Jocelyn Stover

for a moment, Mr.
Taylor finally responds, “What do you mean?”
    Taking a deep breath, Mike launches into his
story, trying to stick clearly to the facts.
    “Mr. Johnson with the night crew has been
seeing things.”
    “Wait,” Mr. Taylor interjects. “Who is
Johnson again?”
    “Mr. Johnson is part of the night custodial
crew. He is usually responsible for the section B labs.” Mike
continues, “Anyway, like I was saying, he believes that he’s seeing
things. All manner of things from people to animals to things that
can’t possibly exist. He has become quite paranoid of late, always
looking over his shoulder, muttering under his breath about people
out to get him. Last night he even wore garlic to work.” Mike
pauses, shaking his head. “The guy hid it in his pockets so he
wouldn’t break the dress code.”
    “I see,” Mr. Taylor responds.
    “Sir, he’s starting to make the staff
nervous. Many of them are worried he’s off his medication.”
    “Has he ever shown any instability in the
past?”
    “Well, no, not at work, but it’s no secret
he battles mood disturbances and regularly sees the company
counselor.”
    “Well, Mike, I think Mr. Johnson needs to be
put on medical leave, don’t you?”
    “Yes, sir, I agree. I’ll speak with HR
personally and have the paperwork taken care of right away.”
    Mike begins to turn and leave when Mr.
Taylor interjects, “Mike, I’d like you to assume responsibility for
Mr. Johnson’s sections until we can find a suitable
replacement.”
    “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
    Mike turns and departs the office. Closing
the double doors behind him, Mike pulls the rag from his back
pocket, this time to polish out the fresh set of fingerprints he’s
left on Mr. Taylor’s door, before collecting his cart and moving
on.

Chapter 11

Kade
    I find myself staring at the ceiling when I
wake up in the morning. Lying flat on my back I intensely
scrutinize the textured surface. Instinctually my body knows its
6:30 a.m.—I need no verification from the bedside clock. My chest
is heavy with dread, the three-week deadline weighs heavily on me.
With the end of the world close at hand, I find it truly ironic
that getting up to take a shower and keeping up appearances at my
pretend job rank at the top of my priority list today.
    With a sigh, I throw back the covers and
swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Unencumbered by pajamas I
stroll into the kitchen and start the coffee before heading to the
bathroom. While I hate the feel of the apartment in general, the
shower is quite luxurious. Completely open with a simple glass
block wall to shield spray from the rest of the room, the massive
showerhead hangs down from the ceiling. Soft water drops drench you
as though you’re standing outside in a tropical rainstorm.
    If I ever had a woman up
here, the delicate silhouette visible through the glass wall would
be exquisite , I think to
myself.
    Flipping the nozzles on I step back and
allow the temperature of the water a few minutes to heat up.
Grabbing a fresh towel from the linen closet, I hang it on the
towel rack and step into the spray. I look up and close my eyes,
allowing the downpour to wash over me. Wiping the last of the water
from my face, I shift positions so the bulk of the stream cascades
down my broad shoulders. As the heat seeps through my skin, I feel
the tension in my muscles loosen and relax and I let my concerns
temporarily drain away. Working the bar of soap into a lather, I
cleanse myself. When the last of the suds washes away, I reach for
my towel, shut the water off, and step back into real life.
    While finishing my daily ablutions in front
of the vanity I contemplate ways to force Gwen into using her
powers. Most of my ideas are absurd, and, short of threatening her
life (which I refuse to do), I’m not sure what to try.
    I stuff my wallet and keys into my pockets
and grimace. Maybe Gwen will surprise me. There are still three
weeks left, and anything could