“Where is the girl and the other guy? There were four of them,” Eugene asked, scanning the area.

  “That’s a good question. I don’t—”

  A woman’s scream cut Bob short.

  “Oh God!” another lady screamed. “He is dying.”

  “Let’s go,” Bob and Eugene ran in the direction of the screams.

  As soon as they were around the bleachers, Eugene spotted two teenagers on the ground, seizing and foaming at the mouth. People screamed around them, their wide eyes searching for anyone who could help. Panic set the tone in the arena.

  “What’s going on?” screamed one of the coaches from the field. “Hey, that’s my son.” The coach ran towards them.

  “Everyone relax. We are EMTs, let us through,” Eugene announced, and the crowd cleared for them. They rushed to the boys just as their convulsions intensified.

  “Eugene, is this supposed to look like this?” Bob asked Eugene.

  “Yes, at least for this drug. You know the drill. Hurry, they don’t have much time,” Eugene told Bob. Almost in unison, they pulled EpiPens out and stabbed the boys in the leg. Within seconds, the boys stopped shaking and foaming.

  “Help! Over here,” a male voice yelled from across the other set of bleachers. Bob stood up to find more teenagers dropping.

  “Eugene, we need to hurry. There are casualties everywhere,” Bob told Eugene as he ran to the other side.

  “Keep an eye on them and call an ambulance. They need to be taken to a hospital now,” Eugene told one of the ladies and the coach.

  “Thank you so much,” the lady told him.

  “What happened to him?” the coach asked.

  “Looks like a horrible allergic reaction to something. Don’t leave him alone,” Eugene told the coach. He didn’t want to go into a lengthy explanation about the drugs.

  “But he is not allergic to anything,” the coach shouted.

  “Sorry, Sir. I don’t know what else to tell you. I have to go.” Eugene took off before the coach could reply.

  Bob was having a hard time keeping up with all the casualties, so Eugene ran over and started injecting every kid he found. Some were overdosing faster than others. If only he had more time to analyze their reactions to the drug, but people were dropping left and right, which left only enough time to find them and give them the antidote.

  “How are they passing this out?” Eugene asked Bob after the tenth kid.

  “Caramel,” Bob replied back. “I found several wrappers around some of the kids. They are selling them as candy, literally.” He moved to the next one.

  “We need to ban the sale of food items in this city. People are too trusting here,” Eugene told Bob, thinking of his last incident.

  “Sure, start a petition after we fix this mess,” Bob told him, jumping to another girl who was foaming on the ground.

  “Where are they?” Eugene asked as he moved to another kid.

  “They are long gone. Saw them leaving once the bodies started falling,” Bob told Eugene. “There, that’s the last one.” Bob stood over his last patient and took inventory. There were over twenty kids on the ground.

  “What is going on?” The empire rushed over to them, his words so loud Eugene had to stop himself from covering his ears with his hands.

  “We think the candy is contaminated. Can you make an announcement for people not to eat it?” Eugene told the empire.

  “Of course. On my way.” The empire ran to the nearest microphone and made the announcement.

  “Holy crap, what happened?” Eric asked Eugene and Bob as he came up beside them.

  “Sorry Eric, my thighs are cramping,” Eugene told Eric as he sat on the ground next to his last patient.

  “Not you Eugene. I was referring to all the people around you.” Eric pointed at all the comatose kids everywhere.

  “Oh them, my bad,” Eugene replied as he got off the ground.

  “Our favorite gang of wolves did this in less than ten minutes,” Bob told him, wiping his hands on his handkerchief.

  “How is that possible?” Eric asked him. “These are kids. I’m sure most of them were not using drugs before today.” He looked at the kids in disbelief.

  “That’s the problem. They are lacing candy with the drugs,” Eugene told him.

  “Not that again. Can we forbid the sale of sweets in Texarkana?” Eric asked both men.

  “Thank you. I asked the same question,” Eugene told Eric, sticking out his chest in his Superman pose.

  “Until either one of you can figure out how to pull that off, the answer is no,” Bob said, popping their bubbles.

  Sirens blared in the distance. “It’s about time. They need a hospital soon,” Eugene told them.

  Bob’s phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID with a frown. “Shorty, what’s going on?” he said in a form of a greeting.

  “That cannot be a good call,” Eugene told Eric.

  “Probably not,” Eric replied. “Tell me, what did you do to stop them from overdosing?” he asked Eugene.

  “Hit them with a dose of the antidote,” Eugene told Eric, holding up an EpiPen.

  “Do you have any more?” Eric asked.

  “We got tons in the truck,” Eugene told him.

  “Eugene, we have to go,” Bob told him. “Shorty has another outbreak at the student center at Texas A&M,” Bob told them. Eugene and Eric followed him out, but Bob stopped and turned to Eric. “You should probably stay here and explain what happened.”

  “I have become the messenger of death. Every time something bad happens, I’m the one explaining it,” Eric told Bob. He wasn’t whining about it, just stating a fact. “Let’s hope I don’t get fired because people start thinking I’m the one doing these awful things.” Eric shook his head.

  “Just tell them you have really good connections,” Eugene told Eric, more than meaning his words.

  “That’s a good idea, and you aren’t technically lying,” Bob agreed with Eugene.

  “At this rate, I need to tell my captain something,” Eric told them.

  “Here.” Eugene passed Eric about twenty EpiPens. “This should hold you over for a while. I hope.” Eugene sighed as he glanced at the field.

  Eugene gave Eric a quick demonstration with the EpiPen. Thankfully, he knew the technique, so Eugene didn’t have to go over it too much. After only a few minutes, Eugene and Bob jumped in the truck and left Eric behind to explain everything to the cops and paramedics who were arriving by the dozen.

  On a normal Monday night, there was very little traffic in Texarkana, which made getting around easy. Today, though, it felt like it was taking forever. Bob had to drive down to the overpasses on Stateline to get to the other side of the interstate. All the one way roads were making Eugene insane. To make matters worse, Bob was driving almost as fast as Shorty, only he wasn’t trying to run over every other driver on the road.

  Soon enough, Bob made it down the Saint Michael Drive, then he made a right turn on Richmond and tried to drive as fast as possible to University Drive.

  “What are all these people doing out?” Eugene finally asked. He couldn’t help himself, they were moving so slowly.

  “I’m pretty sure this is the usual crowd,” Bob said.

  “Why are you not worried? Eugene asked Bob.

  “Eugene, in the last ten months we have been all over the country, seen the scariest ghost you can imagine, and the whole time everyone has been panicking.” Bob took a quick breath before continuing. “At some point in time, you just realize that this is our life. When everything is a fire, it’s no longer an emergency. It becomes standard procedure. No need to panic,” he said in a straightforward tone, right as he cut off three vehicles and continued down Richmond at full speed.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” Eugene asked Bob, squinting vigorously as he tried to focus on Bob.

  “To relax or you are going to give yourself a heart attack,” Bob told him. “It is still early and it’s going to be a long night, so pace yourself.” Bob made another right turn at University Drive and headed towards the A&M campus in Texarkana.

  The campus had recently been renovated and new buildings were added to the complex. Eugene was amazed how collegiate the place looked, even in the middle of Texarkana.

  “Shorty said they were near the student center. I’m pulling up as close as possible,” Bob told Eugene, ignoring all the signs that said, “Do Not Enter.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting towed?” Eugene asked Bob.

  “Who’s going to do it?” Bob asked. “I think everyone is a bit busy now.” He pointed at the chaos in front of him. “Hope you got plenty of pens.”

  “Just refilled my pockets as I was helping Eric,” Eugene told Bob as they both climbed out of the truck.

  Eugene and Bob ran across the quad toward a large crowd of screaming college students. The school had a bonfire in the middle and the scene looked like it had come straight out of a Friday the Thirteenth movie. College students were collapsing left and right. Some had already started foaming at the mouth. The rest were screaming in pain.

  “Shorty!” Bob shouted.

  Shorty came running with three large men behind him. Their faces were pale and they looked ready to bolt.

  “Big Bob, what is going on here?” Shorty asked him.

  “Why are you asking us? We just got here,” Eugene yelled so he could be heard over the screams.

  “They are overdosing,” Bob told Shorty. “Stop being a smart ass, Eugene,” he added and Eugene shrugged.

  “How?” one of the men behind Shorty asked. “None of these kids took any drugs.”

  “We have been watching them. They have been eating hot dogs and burgers,” another of the three men added.

  “Do we know each other?” Bob asked.

  “Big Bob, these are the triplets,” Shorty said. “Triplets, that’s Big Bob. You know who he is. This is E, scientist extraordinaire.”

  Eugene couldn’t help it. His chest swelled at Shorty’s introduction.

  Eugene scrunched his forehead. “No offense, but you guys don’t look like triplets.” It was true. All three men had different heights, hair colors, and nationalities.

  “Maybe not by birth, but they are all named John. So triplets it is,” Shorty clarified, and all three men nodded in agreement.

  “Works for me,” Eugene said, seeing no sense in arguing.

  “We can discuss name selections later. Right now, we need to get to work,” Bob told all five men. “Triplets, take the right side. Do you know how to administer the antidote?” Bob asked.

  “Yes sir,” all three replied in unison.

  “Maybe they are triplets,” Eugene whispered to Bob, who nodded in agreement.

  “Good, get going,” Bob said, and he hadn’t even finished his statement before they took off. He turned to Shorty and Eugene. “Okay, we will take the left and we better hurry.” Bob pointed, and they all took off running.

  It took them longer than they expected. For every college student they administered the antidote to, another one fell over. Bob had managed to send a text to Constantine and Bartholomew for an update and to get Eric down to the school. The students were going to need medical attention soon.

  An hour and a half later, with the help of the paramedics, they had all the students in stable condition. Once the situation was contained, Bob, Shorty, and Eugene started asking questions. Weirdly enough, nobody had seen anything. Also, there were no strangers passing out candy.

  “We are in luck,” Eric told Eugene and Bob, who were standing alone on the far side of the quad.

  “What is your definition of luck?” Eugene asked Eric, examining the students being loaded into the ambulances.

  “At least this was only the summer crowd and not the full student body,” Eric answered.

  “You have a good point,” Eugene conceded.

  “But how are they passing this stuff out?” Bob asked. “I checked the area and nothing looks out of the ordinary.” His eyes roamed, as if he was still looking for clues.

  “Excuse me.” A female college student walked up to the trio. “Are you guys FBI?” she asked in a soft voice. The young lady looked like an older version of Shirley Temple. She had a small frame, probably standing less than five feet tall. She also had the cutest curls on the planet. Eugene had the desire to pet her, but he held himself back.

  “Sorry, young lady, but he is the only police officer in the group,” Bob told future-Shirley in the most professional voice he had.

  “I saw you out there. You must work for a government agency,” future-Shirley told them, not backing down.

  “Oh, we work for a couple different agencies, just not the ones you know,” Eugene told her, thinking of the Horsemen.

  “In that case, you are here to stop this from happening again, right?” future-Shirley asked, tears filling her eyes as she glanced at the injured students.

  “That’s our plan,” Bob told her. “Did you see what happened?”

  “It was a weird,” future-Shirley said, crying now. “This group of people came in, saying they were from a cooking show and they were here to do a throw down with us. They said the catch was that everyone had to use their special BBQ sauce.” At her words, all three men looked at each other.

  “When did the students start getting sick?” Eric asked

  “Nothing happened at first,” future-Shirley said. “Everyone was bragging about the food. But the more they ate, the more they wanted. Then the group started selling samples of their special sauce. Within ten minutes, the first person started having a seizure. Then all hell broke loose.” Future-Shirley’s tears turned to sobs.

  “Why are you not sick?” Eugene asked the young lady, suspicion coating his words.

  “I’m a vegetarian,” future-Shirley said between sobs. “I just stayed because my best friend was trying to hook me up on a date. And now they are all dead.” Future-Shirley fell to the floor and buried her head in her lap, her shoulders shaking from her sobs.

  “And I thought I was dramatic,” Eugene mumbled to Bob.

  “At least we met someone worse,” Bob replied in a teasing tone.

  “Ma’am, please calm down,” Eric told the young lady.

  “Breathe now, before you pass out,” Eugene added. “They are not dead, but your friends are going to be out for a couple a days at least. They will need to get their stomachs pumped, probably be under medical observation, and maybe have a few IV’s, but other than that, they will be fine,” Eugene finished with a smile, hoping to make her feel better.

  Bob and Eric shook their heads.

  “Dear, it’s going to be okay. I recommend checking with the school officials and seeing how you can help,” Bob told future-Shirley in a comforting voice.

  The young lady wiped her tears and gathered herself from the floor. She gave Bob a hug, then took off running.

  “How come you got the hug?” Eugene asked.

  “Probably because I didn’t scare her to death with facts,” Bob told Eugene, shaking his head.

  Eric raised his hand. “I second Bob.”

  “Thank you for taking his side,” Eugene replied, rolling his eyes. “Now what are we going to do? I wasn’t expecting our dear wolves to become so creative with their delivery system.” Even to himself, Eugene sounded defeated.

  “I have a fear they learned a few tricks from your dear accountant and our zombie apocalypse,” Eric told Eugene.

  “That thing is going to haunt me forever,” Eugene said.

  “Or until we have the next horrible disaster, and with our luck, it won’t take long,” Bob told Eugene.

  “With Isis around, it’s only a matter of time,” Eric said. “What is that sound?” Eric and Bob looked around. The song Smooth Criminal was playing.

  “Oh sorry, that’s my phone,” Eugene said, his cheeks growing a little warmer. “Hello.”

  “Rookie, my man, we got a problem,” a man shouted over the loud music playing in the background. Eugene pulled the receiver away from his ear so he could hear and not go deaf.

  “What’s going on, Roy?” Eugene asked, his tone heavy with confusion.

  “I have a group of punks selling E in our territory. Should we take them out?” Roy asked. Eric and Bob both moved closer and turned their ears towards the phone.

  “No, Roy,” Eugene almost shouted into the phone. “We need them alive. Keep an eye on them, but don’t let them sell anything. Their product is contaminated. I’m on my away.”

  “Hurry up. This could get nasty,” Roy blurted before he ended the call.

  “The nerve of those punks,” Eugene said, definitely shouting this time. “They are trying to out sell me in my own shop. Forget polio, I’m giving them small pox.” He paced, his anger needing an outlet of some sort.

  “Small pox? What are you talking about?” Eric asked Eugene.

  “You don’t want to know,” Bob told Eric. “Let’s go, Eugene. You can tell me the address to the club on the way to the truck.” He patted him on the back, trying to calm Eugene down.

  “If you need back up, call me,” Eric told Bob.

  “Will do. Could you tell Shorty and the triplets that we are out?” Bob asked Eric as he pointed at the four men assisting the paramedics.

  “I got them. Good luck,” Eric told Bob right before he made his way towards Shorty and the Triplets.

  “Let’s go, Eugene. We need to hurry,” Bob told Eugene and together, they ran towards the truck.

  “We really need to. The club is Downtown at the old Coliseum,” Eugene told Bob

  “Of course it is,” Bob said and they both ran faster. Eugene thought he should probably start running every day like Isis did. He was more than out of shape, and all this physical activity was making his body ache.

  The official entrance to the Coliseum was on East Broad Street, but lately nobody ever used that one. As far as the neighborhood was concerned, the place was closed down. Major renovations had been done to ensure it was noise and light proof. No parking was allowed near the building, except for Pestilence and her Interns. Unless you knew the place was open, nobody ever went that way. Eugene gave Bob directions to park around the building in the only parking space that was marked.

 

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