Page 53 of After Effect

“Oh, let me.” Andrea rushed to my side and gave me a hand to help me to my feet.

“Holy fuck! Pills. Get me pills. Or morphine. Or something. Fuck- anything!” I was nearly crying as all of the blood rushed to my broken ankle, without an ounce of adrenaline or lingering Vicodin left in my system to save me.

“I’m so sorry- sit! Sit!” Andrea ran to grab the wheel chair, and came back with some pain pills. I downed them and sank into the seat.

What a sorry state I’m in. I had barely even finished settling when darkness pulled at my mind again. Drowsiness, I guess? Why did I feel so sick?

I fought to open my eyes, but they had never felt more heavy than they did right now. My consciousness was being dragged away by the depths of my mind, and in an instant everything went black.

###

Finch Corbin

Mark parked the car in a nondescript parking lot by a warehouse in Long Beach. He hadn’t spoken to me much at all the whole drive over. My questions were met with silence until I accepted I shouldn’t be asking them at all. I couldn’t tell if he was taking me over here for some kind of explanation or if this was going to be some sort of punishment.

He got out of the car, then he popped the trunk and pulled out a briefcase while I struggled to drag myself out of the seat. Together, we entered a locked door on the back side of the building, using Mark’s unexpectedly extensive key ring.

Marked flipped on a light switch, and the whole of the warehouse came to life. A towering sailboat sat in an enclosed dry dock in the center of the room, while large, industrial shelves covered in boxes were stacked to the ceiling.

“No time for gawking. This way.” Mark scolded my wandering eyes. He led me to an office in the far corner, unlocking that room, and forcing the door open with his shoulder.

The room was much larger than it had appeared from the outside. At the desk, behind the computer, sat a man in an immaculate, tailored suit.

“You’re…” Charles Sommers. I stopped myself from speaking aloud, shooting my gaze over to Mark. The last time I saw Mr. Sommers, he was chasing my dad up into the mountains. As far as I’ve always known, it was under his order that we were caged in, and under his order that we were run off the road. There must be some explanation for this. I forced composure as I addressed Mark Corbin. “Wh-who is this?” I tried to sound confident, but I can’t say I succeeded.

Mark’s expression remained deadpan. He must have known. It would be naïve, now, to assume Mark was an innocent outsider to the investigation. He turned his attention to Mr. Sommers. “Chuck, we have a bit of an issue.”

Sommers’ eyes remained on me for an extended second, as though he was transcribing my adult appearance in his mind. Then he addressed Mark. “I’m listening.”

“Have you spoken to Christian Baek recently?” Mark continued.

“He’s been on his own for a while now. Why?”

Mark approached the desk, and set his briefcase flat across it. He popped open the lock, and spun it around to reveal the contents to Mr. Sommers. I couldn’t see what was in it.

Sommers removed a stack of pages, and started scanning over the content. Without a word, he placed them back in the briefcase and picked up his phone.

“You’ve been working with Christian…. That was a statement, not a question…. Yes, that’s what I thought…. Only eighteen kilos? Cute…. Right, I’ll be by shortly. Cheers.” He hung up and turned to face us. “So was this is errand boy?” Sommers eyed me again. I swallowed.

“I didn’t know…” my eyes shot to the floor and I struggled to lift them back to his face. What the fuck is going on here? “I mean, I still don’t know. He just had me deliver some packages in exchange for industry contacts.”

Sommers smiled and cocked his head back. “Don’t be so nervous, Sebastian. The Karas family has already paid their debt to me.”

There were too many emotions running through my mind at this moment for a single one to manifest on my face. I stared at Mr. Sommers, cold and empty. Mark’s expression remained deadpan.

Our debt? What was our debt exactly? Was the cost his life? Was it supposed to be mine? Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there at all. And what was my father in debt for? What deals did he make? He was just a banker. He wasn’t part of some kind of mafia… he couldn’t have been.

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe he was tricked. Like I’ve been.

“I bet you have a lot of questions.” Charles Sommers’ voice forced me back into the moment. “You’re Finch Corbin now, right? Where did that name come from.”

“It… was my mom’s favourite bird.” I spoke under my breath, mechanically and not wanting to come off as obstinate. “Since she’s gone, I thought it would… keep her memory alive.”

“Yes, that was an unfortunate, casualty.” Sommers rubbed his chin. “But your father just talked too much to too many people. You can never be too safe.”

“So why didn’t you kill me, too?” The forefront question in my mind won out and escaped my lips.

“You can thank the Detective for that. He’s always been a bit of a softy.”

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