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Going Home, Part 06, Greak Oaks
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 13:00:04 +0000 UTCOver the next hour of his walk, the neighborhoods became more affluent, not so much that he worried he’d be chased away, but the people, an even mix of human and Furries, as far as he could tell, had more money than anyone where he was staying.
Even the stores looked wealthier, with large parking lots in front of them instead of lining the street. People were enjoying shopping today.
It was in a quieter plaza that the prickling surged without warning. Diagrams appeared all around him, street lights, cars, phones, stop lights. All the circuits tried to overwhelm him, and he almost panicked as they began changing, showing him how much better he could make them. The madness wasn’t far behind that.
He was the Builder, he told himself. He controlled his ability, not the other way around. The prickling sounded like it was laughing, but finally the diagram began vanishing.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he didn’t have this under control and he should avoid using his ability, even to repair things. Maybe he’d been right from the beginning. Nothing good could come from him using it at all.
And then a familiar diagram slowly faded from view. A phone with wires coming out of it, going into a brick that didn’t register to him. No, not one brick, a dozen of them.
He brought it back in disbelief. Except for the extra bricks, it was the same. How was it possible he’d found himself where the car was again? Except it wasn’t the car; this was a minivan, and the bomb was inside it this time.
He looked around for the car, since it was the only reason he could think that this would be here, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the minivan, or anywhere in the parking lot. This much ExoClay could take out every car there, as well as the shops in the plaza.
He crossed the road and looked in the back. There was nothing unusual there, only a duffel bag on the floor. He called forth the diagram, and it was inside the bag.
Had he stumbled upon an attempt on another person? He double checked the diagram. It was identical to the other bombs he’d removed, so this had to be the same people. He refused to believe some bomb maker was selling pre-made bombs to anyone who wanted them.
He looked around for anyone suspicious. Pedestrians, walking on the sidewalk, people going from one shop to another, or back to the car. Kids running around.
He swallowed and for a moment he considered that the Lord of Lightning could have guided his steps here, but there was no way He’d pay attention to someone as insignificant as he was.
Then the danger everyone was in asserted itself. The why didn’t matter. He was here, and unless another Builder happened to be getting tools to disarm this bomb, he was the only one who could stop it.
The door was locked.
He called up its diagram, highlighted everything relating to the lock, and traced it. It was a simple lever system; its only protection was that it was inside the door. If he could reach it, unlocking it would be easy.
Before he realized it he’d taken tools out of the bag, only then noticing none of them would help. The door had to be opened to access its inside, but he couldn’t do that without first accessing the insides.
It was a loop. One of the logical conundrums one of the sergeants liked to recite. He could break the window. That would cut the loop, but it would attract attention. He widened the diagram to include the entire door and saw there was a gap at the base of the window. Very narrow and covered by a rubber strip.
He didn’t have anything thin enough to slip in. And a quick look around didn’t show him anything he could use. An empty can had possibility, but it was too flimsy.
He ran for the businesses. The one directly in front of him had a sign reading ‘Reignheart Medical Clinic.’ There was a hair and fur stylist on the left and a pharmacy on the right. He entered the clinic and looked around for something to use.
“Can I help you?” The woman seated behind the counter looked at him expectantly. She was human, older, in her fifties; his mother’s age, the thought came unbidden, when he left for the army. With it came the reminder that she was now dead, and he felt a pang of sorrow. Only he couldn’t deal with that right now. There was something more important. There had to be something here that would let him open the door.
A lion in a doctor’s smock opened a door and let an older lemur out. He froze. “Eric?”
Eric forced himself to look at him, then was surprised to recognize him. “Mister Reignheart?” How was it that of everyone in the city, he’d run into him for a second time?
The lion smiled. “Do you need assistance with anything?”
Eric began shaking his head, then stopped. He opened the door and pointed to the minivan. “Do you know who owns that?”
Walter came to him and peered across the lot. “I’m afraid I don’t.” He looked at the older woman. “Jennifer?”
She joined them. “No. It was there when I got here this morning. It must belong to one of the other people in the plaza.
Eric nodded and ignored Walter’s questioning expression. He couldn’t waste time going around looking for the owner. It might explode during that time. Once he’d disarmed it, he could work on figuring out who the target was.
He looked over the counter at what was on the desk, hoping the receptionist had one of those thin metal rulers that had been popular with his classmates, but there was nothing like that. Not even papers or a pencil. All there was on the counter was a computer, a phone and a tablet.
Maybe someone in the waiting room might have something? Many of the women had large purses, and they looked like they could contain anything they needed. His mother’s purse had certainly seemed like it contained whatever she needed, no matter how strange. But it wouldn’t be polite to just rummage through them.
He stepped forward to ask to look through them, and a small plant with thin reflective leaves became visible at the back of the room, next to one of the office doors. Reflective? What plant had metallic leaves? And then the object resolved itself.
It wasn’t a plant. It was a short pole with thin metal bands jutting out, curling at the end. It gave the illusion of a crude fern. If it was an art piece, Eric thought as he stepped to it, he didn’t see the appeal.
Walter called after him, as did a woman as she opened her office door, but he ignored them. The ‘leaves’ were thin enough, and there was enough of a straight length for what he needed.
He broke one off, the weld easily giving out, and headed out. “I need to borrow this.”
Walter and the others stood there, watching him leave.
He cut the jagged end where the welding had been done and then made a notch in the side, to use to catch the mechanism. He slipped it in, having to force it past the rubber and then it scraped down the inside of the door.
After that, it was guesswork, moving the strip and trying to get the notch to grab onto the rod so he could pull it up. He could see the lock mechanism easily enough, but the metal strip he was using wasn’t technological.
Twice he thought he’d gotten it, only for nothing to happen when he pulled. The second time he pulled hard in frustration, and it came out. He forced himself to calm; he wouldn’t accomplish anything by getting angry. He pushed it back in and tried again.
Steps caught his attention, regular, firm, approaching from the sidewalk, not the shops. A police officer had to have noticed him and come to investigate. Hopefully, he could explain about the bomb without having to say too much about what he could do.
As the steps came closer, he could make out three sets of them. When he looked in the window, expecting to see the blue and yellow of the Tiranis Police Department, he saw people dressed in black and wearing face-covering masks.
He reacted without thinking upon seeing the arm reach for him. He turned and shoved it aside, then brought up his in a defensive pose.
The person studied him, a man, Eric thought, which was confirmed when he spoke. “You’re meddling in things that don’t concern you.”
Eric couldn’t tell if they were humans or furries. Their masks all had muzzles, but they also had bumps where human ears would be, and their head covering would keep furry ears out of sight. It was a simple, and clever disguise.
The one thing Eric could tell about them was that they had training. They stood relaxed, but they all had a hand near the knife each had at their belt, and they were ready to act. He couldn’t see guns, so that was good.
He smiled. “I like to think that bombs concern everyone, don’t you?”
The man glanced in the minivan. Eric had been pretty sure they were involved, considering the masks, but that confirmed it. “If you value your life, you’re going to walk away right now.”
“I value everyone’s life, so I guess that means I’m not—” Eric cursed and stepped aside to avoid the strike. He blocked the next one and threw a knee in the man’s groin, doubling him over. The army had taken the time to show him how to take down opponents, but the Swamp, and the gangs there, had taught him how to win at all costs.
The other two came at him in a coordinated attack. The one on the right was a man, his grunts as he punched gave that away. The one on the left was a woman, the gasp when Eric managed to hit her revealed.
He blocked and dodged as best as he could, but he was locked in place. One of them on each side and the minivan at his back, preventing any retreat. He managed to get himself a weapon when he caught the woman’s arms in a lock and took her knife, which he plunged into the other man’s side. He’d hoped for a scream, but had to be satisfied with grunts and the man staggering back.
Eric was the one who screamed when a knife plunged into his leg. The man he’d kneed was on all four. He twisted the knife and Eric screamed again as he fell to a knee. He punched the man across the face and winced. These masks were hard.
“Get away from him!”
With curses, the three attackers helped each other and fled.
Eric forced himself to his feet, using the minivan, and leaned against it, panting hard.
Walter came around it, fighting for breath hard enough Eric thought he might pass out. He didn’t, and after a moment he was able to speak. “Are you alright? Dear Lord! You’re hurt!” Walter looked at the knife in Eric’s leg then moved to get under Eric’s arm. “Come with me, I’ll see to it.”
“Can’t,” Eric said, looking around for the metal strip. It wasn’t in the door anymore, and he couldn’t see it anywhere. He had to get in the car. He had to disarm the bomb before those people were far enough to detonate it.
With a curse, he picked up a palm-sized rock off the ground and used it to break the window. It took him two tried.
Walter took a step back. “What are you doing?”
Eric ignored him. He opened the door, pulled the bag on the seat and opened it. He unscrewed the back of the phone, took out the battery and then cut the wires. He sighed in relief. There, everyone was safe. He began to sag, but it put pressure on his injured leg, and with a gasp of pain he straightened.
“Is that a bomb?” Walter whispered.
Eric zipped the bag closed and was surprised to see resolve in the lion’s eyes, not confusion when he turned.
Walter moved back under his shoulder to take the weight. “Let me help you.” Eric grabbed the duffel bag as they stepped away. He wasn’t giving those people any chance to get that back and use it again.
What was he going to do with all this ExoClay he was accumulating?
“Jennifer,” Walter called as they entered the clinic. “If no one has done so already, call the police. If they need to talk to this gentleman, let them know they can do so once I’m done treating him.”
In his office, he helped Eric to the examination bed.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut the pant leg some more.”
Eric chuckled. “It’s already ruined. Have fun.”
The lion nodded and got to work. “Look, we don’t have much time, so I need to know a few things.”
