The Crossover Gene

By Brian J. Jarrett

Andy Davis is nothing special.  A roster of failed relationships. A magnet for dead-end jobs. Untalented and uninspired. Add in a penchant for booze and drugs and he's headed nowhere fast.

But when two hit men try to kill him in a dark alley, Andy discovers he's anything but average. In fact, he's the most important person in the world.

And the parallel world next door.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elegy Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781386017998

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

ANDY DAVIS SQUINTED through a vodka haze as he waved to a pale girl in a white tank top behind the bar.

Another, he said with a drawn slur, trying to be heard above the loud music.

She flashed him a fake smile. Sure thing, hon.

She flipped over a shot glass and filled it with rail vodka before sliding it toward him.

Four dollars.

Jesus. No wonder I drink at home. He handed her a five dollar bill and kept the change.

White Tank Top’s smile faltered.

Andy frowned. It’d taken her five full minutes to even notice him. Then she served two people in front of him. What did she want the tip for? Her deep cleavage?

He slammed the shot, recoiling at the burn as he snagged a glance at White Tank Top’s ass. His mind wandered until he had to remind himself that he’d never had a chance with her anyway, even before he stiffed her on the tip. He should have been going home to Jenny, but that ended months ago. The best he could hope for was to keep it up long enough to jerk off before passing out.

Some life.

Today’s shit-storm at work (and the primary reason for being drunk again on a Wednesday night) had been over claims processing quotas. They wanted more work, Andy did less. He got seven different kinds of shit over it too. It would only be a matter of time before they tossed him out on his ass. Then he’d be scrounging for rent again.

And, of course, for another fix.

The smack was a nasty little fucker. He’d kicked it a half-dozen times, only to fall off the wagon each time. Currently he was off the wagon and lying in the middle of the road. The vodka didn’t quite feed the hunger the way the heroin did, but it helped. Surely better than nothing.

He waved a hand in the air for another shot that he knew he’d regret. White Tank Top ignored him again.

Well, whatever. Fuck her then. He still had ten bucks in his wallet and that would buy him a twelve pack at the 7-Eleven. He could use that to stretch out the night’s buzz. Besides, the guy at the convenience store didn’t expect a tip just for doing his goddamn job.

Andy dismounted the bar stool, nearly losing his balance. He used the bar to steady himself before shooting one more look back at White Tank Top. She remained oblivious to his existence, her back toward him as she washed shot glasses.

Oh, that ass…

He knew he should just give up on women altogether, but it was an odd sort of torture to want rid of something he couldn’t live without. A lot like the drugs, when he thought about it.

He checked his pockets for his phone and wallet before stumbling toward the front door. On the way out he glanced at the bouncer, a guy he knew from high school.

Their eyes met.

No recognition at all.

Andy stumbled through the door and onto the sidewalk. Outside, the sweltering humidity of the night air threatened to suffocate him as sweat beads ran down his back. August was the worst in St. Louis.

He suddenly realized he had to piss. Begrudgingly he headed back to the bar.

The bouncer held up a hand. No way, pal. You’re cut off.

Andy glared. But I have to piss.

Piss in the alley then.

Andy thought of telling the guy he’d just piss in his eye instead, but thought better of it when he got a look at the bouncer’s arms. As big as Andy’s legs. No wonder he was a bouncer.

Grumbling, Andy sauntered off in search of a suitable alley in which to relieve himself. He turned a corner and stumbled into the dark and narrow corridor behind the buildings. Beneath his feet, large swatches of the original brick still showed where the asphalt had begun to crack and break away.

He walked a few dozen feet into the shadows to avoid detection. Public urination could get somebody listed as a sex offender if they weren’t careful. He didn’t need that shit on top of everything else. He found a dumpster and sidled up to it. A quick glance around revealed no onlookers. A strong odor of rotten eggs, mixed with cabbage and mustard wafted from somewhere.

He unzipped and let go.

Sweet relief.

A voice behind him caused him to jump.

Andrew Davis.

Andy closed his eyes. Shit. The cops.

He zipped and turned around. Before him stood three men, two wearing Fedora hats and something resembling pinstriped zoot suits with the third dressed in casual street clothes. The two in suits looked as if they’d jumped straight out of a bizarre gangster movie.

Andrew Davis, the man on the left repeated. Tall, his face covered with a couple days worth of stubble, his accent sounded strange. Andy couldn’t place it.

The man on the far right spoke with the same strange accent. Your posterity statement? he said.

What the hell’s going on here? Andy said, struggling to concentrate through the vodka.

The man on the right spoke again. A posterity statement. Do you wish to make one?

Andy only stared, befuddled.

The man in the middle spoke. He had an American accent. Looks like no statement, boys. Go ahead.

On your knees, the tall man on the left said.

Andy shook his head. Wait…what?

The man on the right grabbed Andy by both shoulders, forcing him down on his knees.

What the hell, man! Andy slurred. I don’t know who you guys are, but this isn’t funny anymore. The sulfuric odor reeked so badly that he thought he might vomit.

Close your eyes, kid, the man with the American accent said. You don’t want to see this coming.

Andy felt his balls constrict as the two large men produced revolvers that looked like miniature Gatling guns. They pointed them at his face.

Andy closed his eyes. Tears began to well. This is how he would die: killed in a filthy alley with a bullet in his brain, put there for reasons he couldn’t understand.

He always thought it would be with a needle in his arm.

He kept his eyes closed and waited for the end.

Two shots rang out, back to back, followed by the thud of bodies striking the pavement.

Get up, the American said.

Andy slowly opened his eyes. Before him the man stood holding a 9mm pistol, the bodies of his comrades crumpled on the ground on either side, surrounded by growing pools of dark-red blood.

The man extended his hand. Andy could only stare.

There’ll be more where these guys came from, I can guarantee that. Especially once they find out about all this. He gestured toward the dead bodies. I think you’ll want to come with me.

Andy slowly extended his hand. The man pulled him to his feet.

I’m Cliff. I’ll explain on the way.

The way to where?

Just come.

As Cliff and Andy disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway, the bodies of the two dead men behind them began to smolder, quickly disintegrating into a gelatinous pool of brown sludge.

CHAPTER TWO

ANDY SAT SILENTLY in the passenger side of Cliff’s ancient Buick Regal, his feet resting upon mounds of crushed Styrofoam coffee cups, empty fast food bags and spent Twinkie wrappers. A large pile of cigarette butts mounded up and out of the open ashtray, spilling onto the floorboards. A green pine tree air freshener hung from the rearview mirror, an almost laughable cliché.

You’re lucky I caught up with you when I did, Cliff said. A cigarette clung to his bottom lip, a half-inch of ash hanging precariously from the end.

Who are you? Andy asked.

We’ll get to that.

Where are we going?

Across the river.

To East St. Louis? It’s dangerous there.

It’s dangerous anywhere with you.

I don’t understand what that means.

You will.

Who were those two men back there? Why would they want to kill me? I never did anything to anybody.

Cliff tapped ashes onto the mound of used butts in the ash tray. My friend, they were anything but men. Besides, it’s not what you did, it’s who you are.

Yeah, well I don’t buy that. I’m nobody.

Andy looked at Cliff. Yellow light from streetlights overhead cast shadows over the deep lines in the man’s face.

Cliff glanced in the rearview. Kid, you’re the most important person alive.

Andy paused, glaring at Cliff. Are you some kinda pervert or something?

Cliff sighed, shaking his head. Jesus Christ. Spare me your bullshit.

I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.

It’s not up for debate.

This is kidnapping, you know.

Cliff shot Andy an incredulous look. Did you forget I saved your life back there?

Well, I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.

Would you have preferred a bullet through your brain?

Of course not. But I don’t want to be held against my will.

Well, we don’t always get what we want.

But—

Shut up. You’re distracting me.

Andy scowled. Once this car stops, I’m gone.

Cliff sighed again. A moment later Andy felt a pin prick of pain in his side. He looked down to see a strange syringe in Cliff’s hand, the needle jammed in below Andy’s ribs.

What the hell, man!

Sweet dreams, kid.

Instantly drowsy, Andy’s eyes fluttered. Moments later he laid asleep, his head resting on the fogged glass of the Buick’s passenger window.

Cliff navigated the Buick onto the I-64 bridge, the road nearly empty. He lit another cigarette, exhaling dirty-gray smoke into the car’s interior. Just over the bridge, he exited the highway and began navigating darkened streets. After several more turns, he headed down an alleyway. A trashcan burned next to a crumbling building.

At the end of the alley a group of men waited in the shadows. Cliff pulled up to where they stood.

They met him at the car window.

When Andy awoke in Cliff’s car, he found himself surrounded by forest. He tried to sit up, but found a nylon zip tie binding his right hand to the car’s door.

What the fuck, man? You tied me up!

Cliff looked over, the cigarette’s cherry glowing brightly in the pitchy darkness. Stop being a little bitch. And keep your voice down. They could be listening.

Who could be listening? Tell me, who? I want some fucking answers, right now or I swear to God I’m gonna—

Cliff smashed a fist into Andy’s jaw, silencing his protests. Andy cradled his jaw with his free hand. You hit me! You fuckin’ bastard!

I told you to shut the fuck up. You’re gonna get us both killed.

Fuck you.

You want another? Cliff asked.

Andy stayed quiet.

Cliff stared at Andy the way a parent might look at a child who might throw yet another tantrum at a restaurant before the end of dinner. Are you good now, or do I have to put you back to sleep again?

Andy shook his head. I’m good.

Good. Cliff took another drag on the cigarette, tapping the ashes on the edge of the partially opened driver’s side window.

Where are we? Andy asked quietly, his voice subdued.

Some national park, Cliff replied. Should be tougher for them to find you here. Besides, I need some sleep.

"Who’s them?"

In time.

Are you going to kill me? Andy asked.

Cliff’s brow wrinkled. Are you dense? Don’t you think I would’ve killed you already? Or just let those two goons do it? Use your brain, kid.

Andy closed his eyes. His head spun from the vodka and his stomach churned. The nausea would arrive soon unless he could get to his stash. I’m feeling sick. I need my …medicine.

"Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?

Andy didn’t answer.

I already know about the smack, kid.

Andy sighed.

How long you been using?

A while now. Off and on.

Seen a few good men derail on that stuff. Agents, even.

Agents? Do you work for the government or something?

Sort of. It was a long time ago.

Cliff reached toward the glove box.

Andy flinched.

I’m not gonna hit you, kid. So long as you keep control of your shit. Cliff said. He retrieved a brown paper lunch bag and handed it to Andy.

Andy opened the bag. Inside he found a dozen syringes and two brown bottles. This is why we were in East St. Louis, then?

Bingo. I won’t pretend to know how this shit is done, but I’m sure you already do. Cliff inhaled from the cigarette, tapping more ashes on the pile. Don’t go and OD on me. I can’t afford to lose you.

Thanks, Andy said.

Don’t thank me. The only reason you got it is to keep you from tweaking on me. You’ll eventually be weaned off this shit. So enjoy it, because this is the last batch you’re ever gonna get.

With that, Cliff got out of the car and sat on the hood, leaving Andy alone in the car.

With the drug in his system, Andy’s thinking became less frantic and more relaxed.

Better? Cliff asked.

Andy nodded.

"How’d you get caught up in this drug shit anyway?

Andy shrugged.

Never mind. Not important now. What’s important is for me to get some sleep. Been up for over twenty four hours looking for your drunk ass.

Andy nodded again.

"You keep those dopey eyes of yours peeled. You see anything funny, you wake me up. Capisce?"

"What exactly do you mean by funny?"

"Voices, somebody walking around. Obvious stuff. You are dense."

Okay.

You let me know if you smell anything funny too. Like a rotten egg smell.

What the fuck does that mean?

"That’s what they smell like."

Who?

Those goofs you met in the alley. That’s what they smell like. You catch a whiff of that and I need to know about it.

Sure. Andy remembered that same smell while taking a piss in the alleyway behind the bar. At the time he thought it came from the dumpster.

This is insane, Andy said.

You don’t know the half of it. Not yet, at least. And I’m too fucking tired to go into it.

While Cliff settled in, his head resting against the car window, Andy stared out the passenger window. The heroin had calmed his nerves, warming his body and taking away all the sharp edges. Just like it always did.

Questions lined up in his head by the dozens, all without an answer. Who was Cliff? Who were those men? And why did they want him dead?

Could he trust Cliff? The old bastard had gotten him a stash, after all. But he’d also zip-tied him to the car door. Not behavior that inspired trust.

Maybe Cliff couldn’t be trusted. Maybe Cliff wouldn’t kill him now, but later. Or was he taking him to other people who wanted him dead? Maybe he was just some pervert playing an elaborate game to get his rocks off.

But why would anyone want him dead in the first place? Sure, he’d made some enemies over the years, but nothing that would warrant a response like this. Men didn’t try to gun you down for some unpaid parking tickets or back rent.

Cliff seemed non-lethal now, but if the opportunity presented itself, Andy decided to make a run for it. Then he could go to the cops and explain all this crazy shit. Get it all sorted out.

And another thing, Cliff said, his eyes still closed.

Yeah? Andy asked.

You see anything that looks like a vampire creeping around, you wake me right the fuck up.

A few hours later the sun rose from behind the trees. A dim glow appeared on the eastern horizon, illuminating the trees from behind, creating twisted silhouettes. By the time the upper portion of the sun’s disc made its appearance, Andy had to pull the sun visor down to shield his eyes. The temperature slowly rose, heating up the already stuffy interior of the old Buick, drawing out the odors of tobacco and coffee embedded in the very fibers of the car’s interior.

As the sun’s rays pierced the windshield, Cliff began to stir. The burgeoning light allowed Andy to see the man clearly for the first time. Salt and pepper gray hair covered his head. Deep wrinkles lined his stubbly face, the wrinkles more severe around his leathery lips. The tell-tale skin of a lifelong smoker. Grizzled, Andy thought. That was the word for it.

Cliff’s eyes popped open, immediately flashing over toward Andy.

We need to get moving, he said, shaking off the sleep.

Where are we going?

Cliff removed Andy’s wallet from his own front pocket.

Hey, you stole that from me!

You want me to hit you again?

Andy remained silent.

I didn’t steal anything. Your wallet and your phone are right here. Lucky for you, you’re cheap and you own a flip phone. I pulled the battery from that sucker right after I put you out. If you’d had one of those iPhones I would’ve had to pitch it.

Why would you need to remove the battery?

They track you with those things, you know. Cell tower triangulation is only the start.

Are you with the NSA?

Cliff chuckled. The NSA is a joke. They’re the least of your worries.

Cliff opened Andy’s wallet and held up a debit card. This where you bank?

Andy stayed silent.

Cliff frowned. Answer me.

Andy nodded.

How much money’s there?

So now you’re going to steal my money?

Nobody’s stealing your money. We got a long way to go and we need gas and food.

Where do you think you’re going to take me?

Cliff didn’t reply.

Where’s your money? Andy asked.

That’s not important right now.

Bullshit.

How much do you have, Andy?

Andy scowled.

Tell me. Now.

Maybe a thousand bucks, Andy said through pursed lips.

We’re gonna need it then. All of it.

I’m not handing over my life’s savings to you.

A thousand bucks is your life savings?

You’re judging me? I’m getting the feeling that you live in this car.

Cliff frowned. Think of it as a payback then. You owe me for saving your life. What’s the worst case scenario? I take your money and run?

Or you kill me and take my money.

If so, I would’ve already done that. Besides, I bought you that shit you put in your arm, didn’t I? So let’s say you owe me for that then.

Andy sighed. Fine.

Okay, then. Let’s get moving.

Cliff navigated the Buick onto a dirt road as they made their way out of the forest. Minutes later the car’s tires hummed along narrow, paved roads until they finally arrived at the interstate.

Where’s the closest location for this bank of yours? Cliff asked as he eased onto the highway.

Why don’t we just stop at an ATM? Andy asked.

They have withdrawal limits. I need you to empty the account.

There’s a branch in the city. They open pretty early.

Cliff accelerated, bringing the car up to cruising speed as he entered the highway.

Andy sat silent for most of the ride. As they neared the exit, he finally spoke. Jenny didn’t send you, did she?

Jenny was your girlfriend?

Andy nodded.

The answer is no. This isn’t some kind of girl trouble. How long did the two of you date?

None of your business.

I think you might want to reconsider your response.

Oh, yeah? Why is that?

Because she may or may not live through this.

Andy’s heart sank. Are you threatening her?

Cliff sighed. Jesus, kid. I’m not the fucking threat here. Look, if the two of you were close, they’re gonna figure that out. And when they do they’re going to find her and they’re going to beat your whereabouts out of her. And then they’ll kill her, regardless of what she told them.

Andy stared, eyes wide. Who are you talking about?

Do you not remember what happened in the alley? Them, you idiot.

Andy nodded.

So, I’m going to ask again…were the two of you close?

We went out a few times.

That’s all?

Yeah.

When did you break up?

A couple of months ago.

Would she still have your number in her phone?

I don’t know.

How’d you leave things? On a bad note?

You could say that.

How bad?

She told me I was the most selfish and inconsiderate person she’d ever met.

Believe it or not, that’s a good thing. A couple of months ago, they didn’t know who you were. She might have deleted you from her contacts. It could save her life.

Andy groaned. This isn’t real…it can’t be.

Stay with me, kid.

Andy nodded.

Are you on Facebook? Cliff asked.

No.

Did you ever have an account?

For a while, a few years back. Then I cancelled it.

Did you have any personal information on there?

Yeah.

Like the address of where you live now?

Nah, I got kicked out of that place.

Good. What about your phone number? Was it on your homepage?

Yeah.

You got any friends?

A few.

How close are you?

We haven’t really kept in touch lately.

Cliff nodded. Some of these people will die, Andy. There’s nothing you can do about it and it’s not your fault. I want you to remember that, you understand?

What about my parents?

Cliff shook his head. They’re already dead.

No, not my biological parents. They’ve been dead for years. My adoptive parents.

Cliff shot Andy an apologetic look. That’s who I’m talking about.

No, no… I would’ve heard. Somebody would’ve told me.

How long has it been since you talked with them?

Andy paused.

That long, huh?

I don’t believe you.

It doesn’t matter what you believe, Cliff said. I know it doesn’t make it any better, but your parents never gave you up, Andy. Even when things got their worst, they never gave you up.

Tears welled in Andy’s eyes. I don’t believe any of this. Not one goddamn word. You don’t even know their names.

William and Mary. Everyone called your dad ‘Billy’ though.

How could you know any of this?

We have people inside their group. People like me, or who I used to be.

What do you mean? Like spies or something?

Sort of.

Then why didn’t anybody do anything to stop it?

Your parents were good people, but they’re expendable. Hell, I’m expendable. The only person who matters here is you.

This is bullshit. Give me my phone so I can call my parents.

Get ahold of yourself, Andy.

Fuck you.

Cliff shifted lanes, passing a slow-moving truck. "Ever wonder how your real