Do Warehouse Agents Dream of Artifact Sheep?

Chapter 2

2

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA

. . . AGAIN

"What kind of artifact could make someone explode?" Pete asked aloud as they drove to the hospital to interview witnesses. The very same hospital where the victims affected by R.J. Reynolds' Glass Ashtray had been taken. "I think I saw a movie like this once."

"It can't be a coincidence," Myka said, staring out the window at the empty early morning streets they'd been driving just the previous day.

"Artie said—"

"Artie says a lot of things, Pete. And he also never tells us everything he knows." She shook her head, glanced at her partner. "I don't know — this doesn't feel right."

"Well then, let's say they're connected. What does R.J. Reynolds have to do with people exploding? Or robots, for that matter? And if the ashtray is still active, then why did the sick people in the hospital get better?" He nodded his head towards the front windshield, where ahead, the hospital was just becoming visible. "Speaking of."

"I don't know, Pete, but it's not a coincidence that we're here in Berkeley again. Right? It can't be."

He pulled their rented SUV into the hospital parking lot. "Well, let's talk to some people and figure out what we're dealing with."

Myka nodded, and silently returned to staring out the side window at the familiar hospital they had visited just a day earlier.

# # #

"Who are you?" said the man in the hospital bed. His right leg was strung up and in a cast. A deep cut over his left eye was stitched and bandaged. "I already told those other detectives everything I remember."

"We're not detectives," said Pete, coming to stand beside the man's bed. He withdrew his badge. "Secret Service." Behind Pete, Myka held out her badge as well.

"Secret Service? I figured Homeland Security, maybe. Not you guys. You investigate terrorism too?"

"We're investigating this case," Pete told him. "I'm Agent Lattimer. This is Agent Bering."

"Ned Shallet. That's what it was wasn't it? Terrorism? Suicide bomber?"

"Is that what you think happened?"

"What else could it have been?"

"You told the police immediately after . . . whatever happened, that you thought that the guy was a robot packed with explosives." Pete met the man's eyes. "That he was sent here by aliens."

"Yeah, well that sounds crazy, doesn't it? I'd nearly been blown to bits. I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't know what happened."

"But now you do?"

Myka interrupted. "Mr. Shallet, have you had contact recently with anything strange? Maybe an ashtray?"

"An ashtray?" He scrunched up his brow, then shook his head. "No, nothing strange."

"How are you feeling? I mean, besides your leg, obviously. How's your breathing?"

"Just fine. Look, what's this about?"

"We just want the truth," said Pete. "Now, listen, Ned. We deal with crazy all the time. Crazy doesn't bother us, okay? We pretty much deal exclusively in crazy. So, what can you tell us about what really happened out there?"