Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

“This isn’t good,” said John. “Don’t they do this kind of thing where the government has classified sites?”

“This just gets better and better!” Jennifer sighed. “How much deeper is this rabbit hole going to take us?”

“Hold on, Jen,” John said, fearing that resignation was about to engulf her. “I heard the guard say something else about the drugs that might help us.” He told her about the scientist’s earlier, inferior batch of heroin having been mixed with other drugs, how he mentioned the deaths that the combination had caused, and how it was being disposed of by gradually adding it to what the guard had called ‘the good stuff.’

“There might be something about this impure drug and the deaths on the web. Maybe I can find something on it,” Jennifer suggested with renewed optimism.

“I only saw one type of pill being made—the same type that I saw at DNA, with the red spider logo. They must be pressing both cocaine and heroin powder into each pill to make what the guard called ‘the good stuff.’ I’m guessing the bad mixture they’re trying to get rid of is being pressed just the same way so the pills look the same.”

Jennifer typed the words ‘red spider drug’ into the search bar. She sifted through the results. Some pertained to red spiders—even an article about NASA testing the effect of drugs on spiders. There were a lot of links on the general topic of drugs, and pop-up ads to close, many with the heading ‘Opioid Crisis’ Or ‘Opioid Addiction.’ She found and began to read some blog threads on the subject.

“Some newer posts mention a new pill on the street. It’s being called Spider’s Bite because of the red spider logo!” She showed John a photo of a pill someone had included in their post.

“That’s the pill! And that’s the name The Accountant used!”

She continued reading, “The pills are cheaper than heroin per gram, more robust and discreet to carry and take, but also more addictive. Spider’s Bite is spreading like wildfire. Recreational users love them because they can now get their two drugs of choice in pill form. Meth, coke, and heroin addicts are switching because they can get an even bigger high by grinding them down and dissolving them in water then shooting up, which bypasses the filtering effects of the liver.”

“What about any deaths?” John queried.

She looked back at the screen and started searching again. “There have already been some lethal overdoses reported in connection with the new pills, but the details are sketchy.”

They looked at another blog. Someone had posted a story about a male friend who had been clubbing at DNA, taken Spider’s Bite, and then acted in an uncharacteristically violent way. He had been seen fighting with security, and bouncers had taken him away to a back room. After questioning the man, one bouncer had said they had removed the offender from the club using only minimal force. What was more worrying was that the person in question had not been seen since.

“There is another post like this from a club-goer at DNA but quite a few more concerning another club named Mayhem, also El Gordito’s.”

“El Gordito is behind the missing persons. It’s obvious. He’s getting rid of the victims of the bad pills,” John muttered.

“Hang on, John! As this post states, in New York City an average of five thousand people go missing every year—these cases are just a drop in the ocean. But if people are going missing in El Gordito’s clubs, it seems from the posts, at least, that more are disappearing at Mayhem. . .. Look at this.” She showed him some photos from the club’s webpage. “The club is huge and open to everyone.” She thought for a moment. “You know what? I could pose as a club-goer and check it out.”

“Jen, it’s too dangerous. El Gordito has some really nasty guys working for him, like the guard I possessed. If one of them finds you sneaking around, he won’t put you in a coma, he’ll kill you!”

“We’d both be spirits then,” she offered. “Worried that I’ll outshine you?” she joked, but she knew that John was right; she had more to lose right now than he did.

At 3:43 a.m., Lazlo received a call at home. He had fallen asleep on his couch after finishing off a half bottle of whiskey and the waking up was painful. It was Genna.

“You’ve got to get down here and see this!” the scientist said.

With his head throbbing, Lazlo took off in his car to see Genna. The private lab was located in the basement of an office building nestled between a 7-Eleven and a cheap hotel in Queens that offered hourly rates. At that time of morning, the hookers were clocking off and the bakers were starting their day.

The journey in the elevator down to the second basement level was nauseating, and the bright lights of the deserted lab hurt his eyes. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Genna urgently signaling to him to come to the far corner of the lab.

Lazlo walked up to him and immediately noticed two cages on a side table, with the lens of a video camera perched on a tripod and pointed at them. When he looked into the first cage, he saw six mice lying on their sides, either dead or asleep, he wasn’t sure which. But it was the view in the second cage that stopped him dead in his tracks. The cage held carnage: severed limbs, dismembered bodies, and blood-soaked fur. The body of a mouse hung from the mesh of the cage. It looked as though it had forced its head through bars that were too narrow, in what seemed like a desperate attempt to escape. Its eyes were bulging and looked manic, its mouth was open and the teeth were bared and bloody. Its once-white fur was bloodstained, and it had a leg and its tail missing. The only thing