Chapter 232 B4. 21.1 – Return to Barstow

Here I was, excited to learn what was up with a sea that was actually a lake. I wanted to find where to complain about the confusion. People shouldn’t trick me like this, especially when it came to bodies of water. And I was really looking forward to the new setting.

Sunken resorts? They would’ve been pretty cool to explore.

“The BID has attacked the PCM’s Otay commune,” said Deen. “The man explained that the Anza-Borrego commune was destroyed first. Between Anza-Borrego and Otay, the BID would’ve found someone to tell them about the Salton Sea hideout. It might be safe to count the San Gabriel commune as also destroyed.”

“Or not,” I said. “What if the BID killed the PCM members who knew?”

“There’ll be chat logs, message histories,” Deen said. “PCM groups must have some way to communicate with each other. The BID will find the Salton Sea hideout soon, if they haven’t already. Our goal is to kill the cop who knew about Barstow Station and saw Cecilia come out of there. It’s highly likely he’s already dead. He might not have even reached a commune.”

I nodded. “I guess so… If he’s still alive, then he’s hiding somewhere we don’t know about. Going to be almost impossible for us to find him. Hopefully, the same goes for Euphonia.”

“In any case,” Deen said, “it’ll be dangerous to look for the cop while the BID hunts the PCM, the supposed source of a seeding outbreak.”

I snorted. “Not just a ‘supposed source’. Cecilia’s really the cause of this.”

“Didn’t it work in our favor in the end?” Cecilia asked while doing something to the brain in the back, her hands sloshing the ice and liquid in the cooler. The air inside the car became sickeningly sweet but also had antiseptic hints. “The BID is killing Euphonia’s possible leads to us.”

“Don’t forget about the Adumbrae time bombs you created,” Deen said.

“I haven’t forgotten,” said Cecilia, closing the cooler and patting its cover. “That’s why we’re on our way to my lab in Barstow to unravel this mystery.”

“How far away is Barstow?” I asked. “Is this going to be another long road trip?”

“Not as long as La Esperanza to Vegas,” said Deen. “Around three hours.”

“Still long,” I muttered. I didn’t say aloud that the audience might get bored with another road trip. The next season should have no tunnels and no road trips to keep things fresh. Then again, we had the power of off-screening scenes to hasten the passage of time.

We didn’t meet any obstacles during our trip. No checkpoints. No BID flying overhead. Deen navigated our route with a map because we had turned off our phones. These were disposable phones, but they’d still ping our locations. If something unnatural happened along the way, the BID would check the records of the cell sites we passed.

So far, we had only natural happenings. Like, we stopped at a convenience store to buy snacks and other stuff.

“A ham sandwich?” Deen gave me a sidelong glance as I unwrapped the plastic cover. “I thought you’d buy something sweet. They had donuts.”

“I want savory food now and then,” I said. “Salty, too. I got a couple bag of chips here.”

After eating the very unappetizing Floppy Metal, I wanted some meat as a palate cleanser. A slice of ham between two pieces of bread hardly counted as meat, but this would do for now. Maybe we could buy a burger later.

“Cecilia, what are you doing back there?” I wrinkled my nose at the weird smells filling the car. At the convenience store, Cecilia bought a bottle of hand sanitizer, a pickle jar, an energy drink, a large container of baby oil, among other stuff. She seemed to be mixing them inside the cooler.

“Preserving our precious specimen,” she replied, opening the pickle jar and thrusting it in between the front seats. “Care to eat the pickles? I only need the juice.”

“Um, sure.” I bit into one, enjoying the crunch and the burst of sourness. Then I took a bite of my sandwich. The refreshing pickle cut through the salty ham and cheese. A good combination. This would be my official snack when I’d become a trucker.

“Thank you for the offer,” Deen said. “But I don’t eat pickles.”

“Why not?” I asked while still chewing my food.

“They’re acidic. I don’t want to ruin my teeth. It’s the same reason I didn’t join that fad of drinking apple cider vinegar to lose weight.”

“Do pickles really destroy teeth? Anyway, that was back then. You’ll just regenerate any damage now.”

“I don’t like the texture,” Deen said. “Tough exterior and mushy insides.”

“If no one else wants the rest of the pickles, I’ll toss them out,” said Cecilia, opening the windows. Deen didn’t protest the food wastage.

“Keep them open,” I said. “Bring in the air to drive out the weird smells. What are you cooking back there?”

“I’m not cooking anything,” said Cecilia. “I won’t consume this brain.”

Deen and I traded glances. Why wouldn’t Cecilia eat or drink this Adumbrae brain? She was fine with Adrian. Didn’t she want more Adumbrae parts so she wouldn’t have problems maintaining her body? She needed to experiment with this brain, but she could spare some of it. Was there anything wrong with it?

I didn’t ask Cecilia. If it was a weakness or something we could use against her, we’d pretend we never heard about it. Could also be nothing.

“Pickled water is a ready sodium-chloride solution for preservation,” Cecilia explained. “This energy drink contains sodium, potassium, and sugar. With no other alternative, the liquid mimics blood plasma osmolarity better than…”

I tuned out Cecilia’s scientific explanations. Odd that she hadn’t brought up what Floppy Metal said about her death. Maybe she didn’t believe it. Should I mention it? I wanted to learn about her thoughts. I didn’t want her to secretly plan her revenge against Red Hood.

“And I’ll use this highly-purified mineral oil product,” Cecilia began to say.

“The baby oil, you mean?” I asked.

“Yes. The oil of the infant.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” I said, turning to Deen, who chuckled.

“I’ll carefully pour this baby oil,” said Cecilia, “over the top of the liquid solution. It will form an airtight seal that will float on top, depriving aerobic bacteria of oxygen. It will also prevent evaporation.”

“We trust your expertise,” Deen said, seemingly out of character.

“I’m definitely not going to drink whatever’s in that cooler,” I said with a chuckle, “even if I’m offered a thousand bucks.”

“What about a thousand croissants?” Deen asked.

“A tempting offer. Still, no. Wait… I probably can stomach it.” I dragged my tongue along my teeth, tasting the remains of the pickle and ham sandwich.

Deen had enough money to buy a thousand croissants. Should I make this bet? I had eaten far more disgusting things. I had chomped on monster brains. Cecilia’s mixture protecting Floppy Metal’s brain was… less disgusting. Then again, I ate monster brains as Blanchette, not as Erind. I shouldn’t—Why the hell am I thinking about this? I had a more important question that needed an answer.

I looked over my shoulder. “Cecilia, the PCM member said that Red Hood killed you. Do you think that’s true? Did you do something that angered her?” I didn’t need to look at Deen to know her trademarked glare was pointed my way.

Cecilia tapped her fingers on top of the cooler. “It could be… Or he might’ve heard the rumor incorrectly.”

I could feel the heat of Deen’s eyes. I half-expected her to drive off the road. “But you don’t believe that, don’t you?” I asked Cecilia. “The death of the PCM’s top scientist—that’s a widespread topic in their organization. No way the guy whose brain is in that cooler misheard it.”

“The eyewitness could’ve been mistaken,” Deen said. She wanted to convince Cecilia that Red Hood wasn’t the enemy.

Good that Deen took the opposite stance. It would’ve been suspicious if both Deen and I tried to convince Cecilia that she died a different way. “That’s a pretty big thing to be mistaken about. Red Hood is literally building-sized big. We should know why Red Hood is angry with Cecilia,” I added, facing Deen.

Deen’s angry face relaxed. More proof of our telepathic connection? More likely, she was intelligent enough to realize what I was setting up.

“What did you do, Cecilia?” I asked.

“How would I know?” Cecilia answered, her eyes staring at the empty road. She was processing the same question. “It was my previous self who met with Red Hood.”

“It was the original you,” I said. “I mean, you’re the copy, right? Your previous body has the original soul or something. I don’t know what to call it.”

“I wonder about that…” Cecilia wistfully said. “If there’s any merit to claiming who’s the original and who’s the copy.”

“I suck with existential questions,” I said. “But your previous body is as intelligent as you. You wouldn’t have pissed off Red Hood or anything.” I returned to advocating that the BID killed Cecilia, hoping Cecilia wouldn’t notice. I wanted Deen to switch with me.

“Red Hood is already angry,” Deen said.

Deen took the hint, even if it pained her to push that Red Hood killed Cecilia. Deen wouldn’t want Cecilia to think Red Hood was also her enemy. However, she was just more believable in that role. The worrywart who’d think of the worst things that could happen.

“Myra came to Red Hood for help with Kelsey,” Deen went on. “The PCM had captured Kelsey. Tortured her. Don’t forget about the PCM’s plan to cure seeding—Red Hood would’ve been opposed to that. Red Hood was ready to kill the PCM.”

“What? No way!” I sprinkled worry in my voice. “We have both Red Hood and Euphonia after us?”

“After Cecilia,” Deen clarified. “We’re in danger because we’re with her. Red Hood is more worrisome because she doesn’t hesitate to be out in the open.” Deen went with her usual way reaction to Cecilia.

I knew for sure it was an act. Whenever Deen let out her morally superior side, she’d never lie. Well, she’d lie to herself. But she’d never make up reasons to make someone else look bad—that would run counter to making herself feel good about being right. Deen added that last sentence about Red Hood as a sign. She was supporting me without knowing my intention.

“Feel free to release me,” said Cecilia. “I’m your prisoner after all. Or you can offer me to Red Hood and Euphonia. Part my body. Give each Adumbrae half. Although, they might find it unsatisfying if I was delivered already dead.”

“You don’t mean that, Cecilia,” I said. “We’re not going to abandon you. And I really don’t think Red Hood killed you. That eyewitness must’ve mixed things up when the BID attacked. You did have a plan to handle Red Hood at that time, didn’t you? Like, you weren’t going to invite Red Hood without any plans.”

“We had weapons…” Cecilia said.

That didn’t work, I thought, internally smirking. They probably had a secret weapon to handle an Adumbrae as strong as giant werewolf Red Hood, but didn’t get the chance to deploy it. Everything happened so quickly. And Deen was there, too.

“Weapons that didn’t work,” Deen said, echoing my thoughts. Such an uncanny feeling.

“Did you really plan to fight Red Hood?” I asked.

“Fight her? Of course, not,” Cecilia said, surprised. “If we planned an ambush, I would’ve hidden myself. We intended to offer an alliance. Help her fight the organization that made the artificial Cores.”

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been enticed by your offer,” Deen said. “You can’t help but drag people to fight new enemies, can you? We can now say for certain that Red Hood killed you.”

“Is that all there was to your plan?” I asked.

Cecilia and another high-ranking PCM officer—I forgot his name because he was such a minor character that appeared for only one scene—did make that alliance offer thingy. Then, the BID came. I killed Cecilia and the PCM guy, saved Myra, and booked it out of there. I didn’t know if the PCM had anything else to say to me.

“I had predicted Red Hood to reject the offer,” said Cecilia. “Which is why I had another—I’d help Red become a Purple Bloom.”

“No way!” I probably displayed the correct amount of surprise. I feigned some of it, but I was surprised just the same. “Isn’t that against what the PCM is fighting for?”

“A lie to save our skin,” said Cecilia. “Auron wasn’t present during the meeting. Only Dreyfus. I’m sure Dreyfus would’ve agreed to my suggestion. We both share this trait of not wanting to die. The proposal would’ve given Red Hood pause.”

“Red Hood might’ve paused,” Deen said. “But she killed you in the end.”

“There are plenty of possibilities,” said Cecilia. “Dreyfus could’ve vetoed my suggestion. It could also be that Red Hood immediately attacked. Or Red Hood just didn’t want to listen to humans talking.”

“Are you counting yourself among humans?” Deen asked. She was becoming too enthusiastic in the part she played.

I spoke before another argument escalated. “Why did you invite Red Hood in the first place? And by ‘you’, I meant the PCM. Seems like a crazy idea, like inviting a nuke inside your house.”

“We didn’t know how Red Hood will react to our… detention… of your friend, Myra. I convinced Dreyfus that Red Hood will attack us, persuaded by Myra’s sister, who would’ve been already angry at us. Rather than wait, we invite Red Hood for a meeting and take the initiative. At the least, we’d buy time. At the most, we’d have Red Hood’s head. The PCM working with Red Hood is, of course, impossible.”

“You convinced Dreyfus…” Deen slowly repeated. “It sounds like you have a different purpose in inviting Red Hood. You simply wanted the protection afforded by the PCM while you meet her.”

“Protection that failed to protect me,” said Cecilia.

“Did you have a different goal, Cecilia?” I asked.

“I was thinking of changing employment. I thought of working for Red Hood to protect me from Euphonia.”