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McBrid was still fuming when he entered the Brush-Men laboratory. The worst part was that Scottsmoor was right. He needed to kill the eggs before they hatched.
He turned off the camera and opened the drawer. “Son-of-a...” The Brush-Man was gone. The small cage which had served as the creature’s sickbed was empty.
He grabbed a flashlight and searched the corners of the drawer. Nothing. He dropped to his knees scouring the cabinet and floor. Not one trace of the little bugger. He crawled around to the side, looking in every crevice big enough to hide a tiny, brown Brush-Man.
The door opened and McBrid spun around. He’d forgotten to lock it. If anyone saw him on the floor with a flashlight, they’d know he had an escapee. “Be careful. I broke a—”
“McBrid, what are you doing here?” Charlie closed the door behind him. “I mean, you’re early.”
He sat back on his feet, his heart no longer trying to beat its way from his chest. “Thank Araldo, you’re here. Grab a flashlight and help me find the Brush-Man. He escaped. I have no idea how, but he did.” He began searching under the counters again.
“Ah...Don’t be mad.”
A tingle ran down his spin like a swarm of ants. Charlie couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. He turned, staring up at the young Guard who was looking down at his feet. “What did you do?”
“Uhm...Glassick couldn’t—”
“Glassick?” The damn kid had named the creature.
“Yeah.” Charlie glanced up. “That’s his name or close enough anyway.”
“Where is he?” McBrid stood. He was going to kill this kid. No, he wouldn’t have to. Something else would get Charlie first.
“With me.” The Guard pointed to his shirt pocket.
“You’re kidding.” No one would walk around with a Brush-Man.
“You can come out now, Glassick. It’s just us and McBrid.”
Tiny hands were the first to appear, holding onto the pocket of the shirt, and then the top of the Brush-Man’s head came into view, slowly rising until blue eyes peered over the cloth. The creature scanned the room and then, apparently feeling safe, lifted himself all the way up so that his arms were dangling down the front of the pocket.
“Holy Araldo, Charlie. How long have you been walking around like this?” He dropped onto his chair. He’d made mistakes that could cost him his life, but this kid was rushing them all to the executioner.
“Not long. Right after you patched him up.”
“You’ve had him with you for over a day?” His heart was going to explode. It was inevitable. One way or another, Charlie was going to kill him.
“No. Kind of. Not all the time. He was in the cage until I cleaned in here but Glassick didn’t like being in there.”
The Brush-Man shook his head, frowning.
“I’m so sorry because that’s what matters. His happiness.” McBrid felt like he was acting a part in a farce. The only problem was this wasn’t a play. It was his life.
“He’s scared alone in that container. He’s been really good. He stays hidden. No one even suspects—”
“You can’t keep doing this. You can’t.”
“Why?” Charlie’s hand cupped the pocket as if to protect the Brush-Man.
“Because we’re all dead. All of us. You. Me. Your brother and”—his eyes landed on the Brush-Man—“your new friend, Glassick. If anyone sees him, if anyone suspects what he can do...” That’d be the worst because it’d mean more torture, more death.
“No one will see him. I promise.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes were darting from one to the other.
“He can’t leave the lab again. Promise that or I have to take him and put him somewhere you can’t get to him.” He had no idea where that’d be.
“No. Please, don’t do that.” Charlie dropped his hand. It was fisted as if the kid was willing to fight McBrid over this creature.
The Brush-Man turned, trying to hug Charlie but instead flattened himself against the Guard’s chest.
“I have to. It’s for you own good, both of yours.” Now, he sounded like his father.
“I won’t take him out of here, I promise.”
Glassick hit Charlie’s chest.
“It’s the only way,” said Charlie.
The creature chirped and hit Charlie again before pointing to the table and shaking his head.
“He doesn’t want to be locked up,” said Charlie.
“You understand him?” All he’d heard were chirps.
Charlie shrugged. “Not his words, but I know what he means.”
McBrid stared from one to the other. He was going to regret this, but he needed that creature’s cooperation. “If he promises not to escape, he can be loose in the lab when we leave.”
“And when we’re here?” asked Charlie.
Glassick watched them, eyes wide.
“He can be with you or me.” He was an idiot, a soon to be dead idiot.