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“Is it true? Did Morris poison an entire city?” I ask.
“How do you know about that?”
“Mr. Sci-Fi.”
“Who’s that?” he asks.
“Just some nerd like me who tracks—you know what? Never mind. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
Oh shit.“How the fuck did he make such a large batch?”
“We think he chose Paris to make us believe he’d been out of the US this entire time. Now we know he purchased an industrial fertilizer company and probably made millions of gallons of his drug. We believe he dumped a portion in the LA Aqueduct. We’re trying to track the rest.”
And, of course, his drug is extremely new, which would make it difficult to detect.
But why would Morris do this? He went through so much trouble to get my blood. “His plan changed. Why?”
“What are you talking about?” Kyle asks.
“Morris claimed he wanted to figure out the recipe that made me, right?” I say.
“Yeah.”
“So why blackmail LA for money when he planned to sell his Huff recipe?”
“Maybe he needs it to buy more ingredients? I don’t know, Huff, but I have to go.”
“Listen to me. Morris wanted to sell his Huff formula to the highest bidder. I think this move means he couldn’t figure it out—he’s trying to get money another way.”
“Huff, we know.”
“You do?”
“We believe whatever he’s missing wasn’t in your blood. MJP holds the key ingredient. Morris wants it. Plus five billion dollars.”
“Or what?”
“Or he’ll poison Dallas next,” Kyle snaps.
I frown. “What about LA?”
Kyle is silent. Too silent. And from my experience, that means something.
My mind races. Millions of people took Morris’s drug via their tap water.The whole city will be hyped up. They’ll feel invincible. I gasp.And then they’ll crash in one week.
“They’re all going to die, aren’t they?” There’s no possible way for us to produce that much of Morris’s juice to re-dose the entire LA population every week for three months—the time it takes to wean a person off the drug without their heart exploding.
To be clear, the batch I got a hold of for the students at my university was made with a very rare compound—an extract from the pituitary gland of the white rhino, which is almost extinct. We know Morris used a synthetic compound in its place, but no one knows what it was, so the formula he gave us can’t be produced again. Especially not in bulk quantities.
“This is all my fault,” I mutter. “I should’ve killed Morris when I had the chance.”
“I have to go. Text you later.” Kyle ends the call.
I’m going to be sick. If I hadn’t been such a pussy, Joy might still be alive. And now, millions of people will die. All because I couldn’t take the life of one evil bastard.
I have to find Morris. He made a mega-batch before. He can do it again.
