Night Blind (The Technicians #11)

Epilogue

Shawnee Township, Indiana

The ride to Shawnee Township wasn’t a very pleasant drive. Cherry sat on the back seat of the Ford F-150, uncertain if it would have to be returned if she were deactivated, or if Helen were given her role in The Company if the lease of the vehicle would be transferred to her cousin. Either way, her foot hurt and she was nervous. She hated being nervous because then she got that funky sweat in her armpits that smelled like she’d been eating garlic knots all day followed by a jar of kimchi. Helen also sensed something was bothering her cousin.

“That Bleu Neary is something, isn’t he?” Helen said. “Did I hear him say he would bring his crew back to do a room extension and build a nursery for Luke?”

“Yeah, ain’t that some shit? He is coming to build a living space for a person who is still developing into a little minion to fill diapers up with shit,” Cherry said, looking down at her foot.

“You don’t want the pregnancy, Abi?”

“Hell yeah, I want this child, but not really relishing the idea of being pregnant again,” she told her. “There should be pods, you know, like with peas. I drop in an egg, he comes behind me, and squirts in the pod, and nine months later, we have another Neary. I shouldn’t have to earn stretch marks and saggy tits for the job.”

Helen didn’t like it when her cousin was like this. They had come so far, had been blessed with so much, and as always, the pretty girl was whining about her hunk of a man giving her everything she’d ever wanted in life. In the meantime, Helen lived in the backyard like the hired help. She wasn’t envious by any means, but her cousin could be an ungrateful bitch.

“Well, at least this time you don’t have to work while you’re pregnant,” Helen said. “Remember the one job you took when you were seven months along because the deep freezer was nearly empty? Those days are behind you.”

“There is that,” Cherry said, shifting. “I don’t mean to be bitchy, but this meeting is unprecedented.”

“I think, having a nursery for a child born in our family is unprecedented,” Helen said, changing the subject. “This time, you will have a rocking chair, a changing table, a mini library, and stacks of disposable diapers. You don’t have to wash cloth diapers anymore. You also get to be a stay-at-home mother.”

“Yeah, also there’s that,” Cherry said. “I mean, what am I going to do being at home all day with a small child?”

“Take some online cooking classes,” Helen said. “Also, maybe it’s time to think about getting that real estate license you said you once wanted, or learn to paint, sketch, skeet ball shoot, whatever you want. This is a new life for you, for us. Are you afraid to be happy?”

“I am happy, but I’m scared. I’m scared of this meeting. I’m scared of waking up one day and he’s changed his mind and wants four more kids,” Cherry confessed.

“Was that your reluctance in telling him about Naomi?”

Cherry shifted in the back seat. She leaned forward an inch as she spoke, “No, there are a lot of rules to being a Technician, Helen. One, you don’t have kids, and two, you don’t make kids with other Technicians. We broke the rules and we could have lost our lives in doing so, therefore, take caution with Mustang. Yeah, he’s family, but he’s a Technician.”

“I can’t make kids with him.”

“Yes, but you can distract him and become his liability. If he has something to lose, then his effectiveness is hindered,” she explained.

“Noted. And your fear about this meeting?”

“I’ve never been to one before. I don’t know the other Fruits, only by handles; this is new to all of us. Be on your toes and ready for anything,” Cherry said. “Do you have your knives?”

“Yes,” she said. “Ironically, the one night I didn’t have them on me was the night The Collector grabbed me. If I’d had my knives, the story would have been different.”

“Not by much; a man like that sets his cap, a man like that makes it fit,” Cherry said.

The silence returned as they approached the exit in Shawnee. Helen, having learned to read her cousin better than she ever could any man, shifted the energy in the vehicle. She’d always been a calming balm for Cherry, who seldom relaxed and was often on edge. Being married to Michael smoothed her out around the edges. Helen took the time to soothe the beast.

Helen said, “I think a soft sage green would be a nice color for the nursery. Where is it going to go again?”

“Bleu is going to knock out the closets between our bedroom and the guestroom to make a walkway. The nursery, or at least half of the space, will be the nursery, and the other part will serve as a playroom. Once Luke grows into a toddler, the nursery becomes his bedroom. I think Bleu mentioned adding a Jack and Jill bathroom,” Cherry said, fidgeting in the back seat.

“Listen at you sounding all suburban housewife and shit,” Helen said, laughing, as they arrived at the set location. “Ooh, I hope they have snacks. I am kind of hungry.”

“Is that what’s on your mind? You’re about to meet Jesús. I don’t know many people who have ever met the man,” Cherry said, feeling the sweat pooling in her pits.

“Relax, cousin, at the end of the night, he is simply a man. He is going to look at me, think I am weak, and react based on his eyes,” Helen said.

“And what are you going to do when he does?”

“Teach the man a valuable lesson that I’m not one to mess with,” Helen said, flashing a toothy smile.

She was a lovely woman with the look of a middle-income woman who belonged to a man who watched the Saturday college ball of his favorite team from a university he never attended. Helen looked as if she had the perfect casserole recipe for any occasion and made wonderful sweet and sour meatballs. The look was perfect for an undercover agent, but her job, if she were approved, would be determined by the man himself.

It was time to have a little talk with Jesús.

****

The room held a conference table capable of seating twelve. Food lined the center of the table as if it were the last supper. At the head of the table, sat a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark spirit. Cherry shuddered just looking at him. Helen had no reaction. Her eyes were on the food.

Around the table, sat four others along with Azreal, who commented that they were late. A black man with a look of boredom on his face was introduced as Bad Apple. Cherry had mentioned him once. He was an assassin assigned to Wisconsin.

A woman, with ebony skin, hazel eyes, and a natural ponytail sat across from Bad Apple. In front of her, rested two vials of a liquid, viscous in appearance and cloudy. These were packaged and passed over to Bad Apple. She was Lemon, the poisons specialist covering Ohio.

Passion Fruit, an accident specialist, resided in Illinois. She sat with her fingers in her mouth as she nibbled on her nail beds. Helen passed her a carrot stick from the crudité tray as she would have for Naomi, she tapped at the woman’s hands, like a mother, shaking her finger at the nasty habit. Passion Fruit scowled at Helen, looking her up and down as if the woman asked to make out later in the bathroom. Helen took a seat in between Passion Fruit and a woman with a plateful of grapes in front of her.

“I’m Sour Grapes,” the woman said. “I am a tracker.”

“I’m just here for the food,” Helen said, looking down at the table at Jesús, she nodded. “Sir.”

Jesús got to his feet, quickly, and everyone at the table jumped, including Helen. His voice was deep and rumbled in his chest when he spoke. His words were aimed at the newcomer.

“Azreal, you expect me to believe this wisp of a woman with no confidence is to join your team, as what, the mellow mushroom?” Jesús bellowed.

Helen was anticipating this and responded, as she reached for a couple of the grapes, “A mushroom is a fungus, not a fruit.”

“You dare correct me; you shit stain on my time!” he bellowed coming at Helen with fury in his eyes.

Helen pushed back from the table, trying to get away. Cherry didn’t make a move to protect her cousin; although their entire lives had been built as symbiotic beings, this one time she couldn’t help. She sat still as her cousin recoiled into a ball. Jesús barreled down on her, hovering over Helen in the chair. His eyes were filled with rage. His breathing was ragged. His fists were balled into knots.

Then he froze.

He leaned over her, but his entire posture changed as he uprighted himself. There was the glint of the knife against his throat. Bad Apple, Lemon, and Passion Fruit moved to aid him as three small knives flew through the air, landing at the feet of each courtesy of Helen’s side pocket cache.

“One nick and you will bleed out, if, and this is a big if, the venom from the copperhead I found and laced this with don’t get you first,” she said, pressing the blade to his throat.

“You would cut me?”

“Bitch, I will end you,” Helen said to Jesús. “The problem with men is that you think every woman you see is going to be intimidated by you, bend to your whims, and then service you like an out-of-work hooker on her last hump. Should I show you how wrong you are?”

Jesús said, “No need.”

He backed away, taking a wet cloth handed to him by Azreal. “You’re an angry little thing, aren’t you?”

“I have no home for my anger. Are you offering a position to house it?”

“Maybe,” Jesús said, looking down the table. “You aiming to be the next Cherry on Top?”

“No, she earned that name. I have no rights to it,” Helen said, pointing at the chicken fingers. “Mind if we get a bite of this food?”

Azreal said she could help herself. She sat watching the woman make a plate of food for a linebacker and one for her cousin. The cousin was the real reason they were here. Azreal focused her attention on Cherry as Jesús returned to his seat at the head of the table. He looked back at Helen several times. His gaze fixed. His interest piqued.

“The Cherry on Top, we are here for you,” Azreal said. “Your foot is broken and you are unable to work for two months.”

“I’m also pregnant again, three months along,” Cherry said. “By the time the cast is off, my belly is going to be too large for me to shimmy up and down rooftops.”

Everyone at the table looked at her, everyone but Helen, who had moved on to the watermelon slices. Azreal kept half an eye on Helen while being angry at Cherry, although she was expecting the outcome.

Jesús asked, “Are you asking to be retired?”

“I am,” Cherry said. “I lost my taste for this years ago. I don’t know what’s next, but it's not this, not anymore.”

Jesús’ eyes were on Helen, who now nibbled on squares of cheddar. She finished the cheddar and moved on to a chicken finger, plunging it into a small container of barbeque sauce. Helen nibbled on it, grabbed a dinner roll, shoving a shaving of ham into it with a bit of cheese. She bit that as well.

Jesús shouted at her, “Damn, have you eaten this week at all, woman?”

“I couldn’t hold anything this morning because Cherry was nervous, and I was worried that you were going to lay hands on me, and we would have to fight,” she said. “Now that I see that’s not the case, and you don’t plan to kill my cousin, or me, then we’re good. Ooh, is that brie?”

He looked at Azreal, uncertain what was happening. “This is the woman who took down Karlton and Ramon Santos? And why did you shoot Ramon Santos with no order or assignment to do so?”

Helen put down the cheese. “He wore a white belt with black pants and a pair of those white leather loafers with no socks. The girl child was terrified of him as he pulled on her skinny little malnourished arms, and the two little boys were in shock. The shoes…mainly the shoes and white belt.”

Bad Apple actually smiled. He leaned forward, picking up a carrot. He nodded his head, “I would have shot that fucker too.”

Helen pointed at Bad Apple with a knowing head nod. Jesús felt like he was in an alternate universe of an assassin therapy session. He asked for an explanation, looking down the table at Helen.

“Perverts. Always the perverts who wear those kinds of clothes,” Bad Apple said. “I’ve never run across one that didn’t have a young’un they were preying upon with sexual deviancy. She did right.”

“Thank you, plus the little girl was terrified of him, meaning he’d already done a bad thing,” Helen said. “Is she safe? Hey, what about the boy The Collector had taken, is he safe as well?”

“He is. He’s with me,” Bad Apple commented. “You did a good thing for that one. It was about to go bad for that kid. He didn’t come out unscathed, but time will heal all wounds.”

“No, time simply allows a scab to cover the festering boils under the skin,” Helen said, moving on to the green grapes. “You gonna eat all of those, Ms. Sour Grape Lady?”

Jesús slammed his fist on the table. “Can we focus here, please?”

“Can’t focus if we don’t know why we’re here,” Helen said, turning her gaze to him. The timid woman who had walked through the door was replaced by one with acid in her eyes. She stared at him mutherfuckingly and for a second, Jesús was shocked at the reaction of his body to her motions. The man inside of him reacted to the wisp of a woman, and he was uncertain if he wanted to smack her across the face for being insolent or make sweet love to her all night. If he hadn’t been looking at her, he would have missed the subtle shift in the demeanor.

Helen McDaniel was a sociopath.

A soon-to-be card-carrying, licensed, lethal weapon of the government.

He looked at Azreal who nodded yes. Bad Apple nodded yes. Sour Grapes and Passion Fruit also provided a nod, and last was Cherry, who spoke.

“I present a new piece of fruit for the bowl as the cherry in the dish has been removed,” Cherry stated.

“The fruit looks sweet, but that shit is bitter,” Jesús said.

“Cranberry,” Helen said. “The stuff you get in the plastic bottles is mixed with grape juice for it to be sweet. Actual cranberry juice is really bitter.”

“So let it be written,” Azreal said.

“So let it be done,” Jesús completed the sentence. “I add a cranberry to the bowl.”

“I accept the cranberry,” Azreal said.

“I accept the cranberry,” Bad Apple said.

“Whatever,” Sour Grapes commented.

Passion Fruit added, “I accept the cranberry.”

Cherry, in her final act as a Technician, spoke, “I have taught the cranberry to shoot, and her aim is true. She has been assigned a mentor and has begun her coursework. The cranberry is skilled in knives, knows poisons, and can read men. I present the cranberry for the bowl as the replacement for the Cherry on Top.”

Jesús took out his phone. His Technician phone also was pre-programmed with a person on the end when he pressed one. The one on his phone went directly to the Technician God at the Company.

“State the reason for your call,” the mechanical voice said.

“I, Jesús, am calling in the retirement of the Cherry on Top. Her shop is here along with credentials and weaponry issued by The Company,” he said in the line.

“Is there a replacement?”

“The replacement is in training, but has completed two assignments, both of which you are aware of,” Jesús said.

“And this fruit?”

“The Cranberry has been activated,” Jesús added.

“So it is written,” the mechanical voice said.

“So it is done,” Jesús replied ending the call.

Helen, who had moved on to a pomegranate, was oblivious to it all. Jesús made one more call to the switchboard. A voice answered, “How may I direct your call?”

“Calling in a nomenclature change. Deactivate the Cherry on Top. Activate the credentials of the Cranberry, code HM4589,” Jesús said.

“Hold for confirmation,” the voice said. A few clicks were heard in the line, and then the voice said, “Credentials created for The Cranberry, assassin trainee, female, territory Indiana. Anything else?”

“That is all,” Jesús said, looking at Helen. “One. Follow the rules. Two, if you ever have to see me in person again, please know I will be coming to end your life. Three, do a good job, keep your nose clean and only, and only work on your assignment. Don’t shoot any other mutherfuckers because they are wearing clothes you don’t like.”

Helen furrowed her forehead. “What are you saying? Are you saying I am officially a Technician?”

“Sadly, yes. Don’t make me regret this, Cranberry,” Jesús added, rising and looking everyone over. “Good work team.”

Helen looked at her cousin. So much had changed in their lives in such a small expanse of time. Helen was officially a Technician, a badass assassin assigned to take out the trash in the world, well at least in Indiana. She could handle that.

Hell, she was even looking forward to it. “Wait, is that why the entire fruit bowl is present, for me?”

“No,” Jesús said. “Over the next four months, you will be in rotation, You will spend a month with each of your team members to learn how they work, understand their strengths, and how to move as a Technician.”

“But I have a trainer and a mentor, who is my handler,” Helen said.

“Not anymore,” Azreal corrected. “You belong to me. My team, my rules, my training. Welcome to the Fruits of the Great Lakes. I cover Michigan. Your first month you will spend with Bad Apple, followed by Passion Fruit, then Sour Grapes, and finally me. If an assignment comes through, you will work it with one of your teammates.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” Azreal added. “Take Cherry home, pack your things, and Bad Apple will expect you no later than Wednesday.”

Helen asked, “You want me to pack up everything and move in with a man I don’t know for a month to learn how to do bad things to people?”

Bad Apple leaned forward. “You already know how to do bad things, Cranberry. I’m going to teach you how to do the job even better and not leave any trace of evidence.”

Helen’s appetite waned, then faded. The food in her stomach felt as if it were forming into a ball of shit destined to clog her butt hole. Her gaze went to Lemon. “What about her? Do I get to spend time with the Lemon?”

Lemon spoke, “I don’t want to be bothered with you, and won’t if I don’t have to. Anything you need to know about what I do, you can learn from that Bad Apple.”

Azreal interjected, “She will get a rotation with you as well Lemon. We need her sharp and ready to work. We have five months to hone every muscle and sense in that body of hers and pack on ten pounds of muscle.”

Helen did not know what to say. She didn’t know what to make of any of it. The timeline would work. Hopefully, if she did well, she’d make it back on time for the arrival of her nephew Luke. If she didn’t, then…well, life would go on.

She was ready for the break.

She was ready to start her own journey.

Helen was no longer afraid to live or be challenged, or to be alone. She was ready for what the world would bring. And if any man got in her way, well, she would simply cut off his dick. She looked up and everyone was staring at her.

“What? Too dark?” She asked.

Jesús smiled at her.

Bad Apple smirked.

Sour Grapes leaned forward, “I like her.”

Passion Fruit nibbled on another carrot stick, “She’s going to be a problem.”

It wasn’t the normal path to becoming a Technician, or how a Technician was made, but this is simply the start of the Cranberry’s journey. Four months were in front of her with training with Bad Apple, Passion Fruit, Sour Grapes, Lemon, and her handler, Azreal. Thus far, she didn’t like any of those fuckers, but she wasn’t here to like anyone. She was here to learn to kill and not leave a trace.

“Yes, the fuck I am,” Helen said, winking at Lemon. “Hey, are you going to eat that roll?”

****

Mr. Slow waited patiently for the return of his wife and Helen. The heart that normally beat steadily raced at a pace in his chest, giving him a headache from the sudden influx of oxygenated blood to his brain. A come-to Jesús meeting was unprecedented with Technicians. Normally, he only spoke with Archangels, and even that was a rare occurrence.

The crunch of the wheels in the gravel meant they had returned. The vehicle stopped at the front door. Helen placed the vehicle in park to help her cousin out of the backseat. Slow walked from the porch meeting his wife, hoisting her in his arms. He liked the feeling of having her close to his chest, his heart rate slowing, the calmness returning to him.

“Goodnight Helen,” he said, giving a nod of his head.

“Rest well Micheal,” she said, humming. She climbed into the vehicle driving it around the house to the garage for parking. Tomorrow she would begin her preparation to leave for Wisconsin to begin training with Bad Apple. In the back of her mind, she wanted to send Mustang a note to let him know what was happening, but she would do that later. Currently, her mind was filled with all of the things that need to happen in less than 24 hours. Her mind went to her cousin. Again, she smiled and hummed to herself as she put away the vehicle.

Inside the home of Michael Isaac Neary, he’d traded the red wine his wife liked to drink for a fluted glass of chilled huckleberry tea, with no caffeine. It didn’t provide the same kick, but it lessened the possibility of Luke arriving into the world climbing off the walls or needing a bit of a petite Syrah on his pacifier to get through the night. He took a seat beside his wife. Michael would allow her to take the lead.

Cherry sighed, then spoke. “The Cherry on Top has been deactivated. She is no more. Only Abigail Neary remains.”

She looked him in the eyes as she spoke the words attempting to gauge his response. Abigail waited for a flicker, a reaction, or a bit of relief to show in his expression and none came. His face held no expression.

“Okay,” he said. “And Helen?”

“Cranberry,” she told him.

“Cranberry?”

“Yep, she is no longer your responsibility as I’m sure you’ve been told. She begins her training in a few days with Bad Apple. She will spend a month with each Fruit in the bowl to hone her skills,” she told him, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

He took her hand in his. Strong fingers toyed with the single band on her hand. The week had been nuts and the bling he’d purchased hadn’t been placed on her finger. From his pocket, he removed the box. The half-carat ring he showed her, then placed on her finger. He kissed her knuckles, then leaned in to kiss her.

“I know a lot of things Abigail,” he confessed. “Some I can speak on, others I can’t. However, what I can speak on is this… is us. I love you. I love this life we are building, but moreover, I want you to be happy in your choice.”

“Happy in my choice?”

“In your choice of me as your man, your husband, having another child,” he said. “I want you to be happy in your choice of walking away. Are you happy with your choice Abigail?”

The hormones were doing a number on her. Her eyes teared and she couldn’t hold it anymore. She began to cry. The tears overtook her, and her body began to shudder as he pulled her onto his lap. He cradled the shaking form against his body and held Cherry as she cried. No words were spoken as they sat in the moment. Finally, his wife spoke.

“When she went missing, I had to find her. I had to find her because I didn’t know how to live without her,” Cherry said. “Helen has always given me purpose. Focus. A reason to keep going. My entire life has been spent taking care of her and she doesn’t need me anymore, Micheal. She is going to leave me so I can be free and be happy, and I am. I just didn’t know how much I needed it. I am free to be happy.”

“Abigail, are you happy with our life, with me?”

“Michael, a woman couldn’t ask for anything better, I am very happy with you, this life, and my new parents by marriage,” she said. “Your parents are amazing and they love us. It feels good to be loved in the right way.”

“I love you the right way,” he told her.

“Yes, and it feels good. We are good,” she said, leaning into him.

He rose from the couch, his wife in his arms, headed for bed. The week had taken its toll on them all, and he needed a break. They hadn’t taken a honeymoon or had time for anything, and this weekend would be perfect to get away for a few days. He’d call his mother to watch Bunny for the weekend as he and Cherry took some time away to connect and plan for their future.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Everyone started somewhere.

Cherry’s story as a Technician had come to a close. For Helen MacDaniel, The Cranberry, her journey was simply beginning. She was a decorative fruit, but a fruit that added balance to any serving, hot or cold. It simply depended on what you placed the cranberry in which determines the taste of dish.

-The End-