by Sarah Noffke
Adelaide pointed at a far wall. “Recently, research from our science department was stolen by a man named Alexander Drake. Part of that research was on how to convert Middlings into Dream Travelers,” she said. Ren had thought that Drake was connected to the werewolf case when he handed it over to Adelaide, but nothing in the file could prove it. For months it had seemed like frayed ends of yarn that couldn’t be tied together, but now…
“Why would the science department want to do that, turn a Middling into a Dream Traveler?” Rox said.
Adelaide dismissed Rox by shaking her head. She wasn’t going to tell her it was a special project her father sanctioned. It had been a part of his “death” plan. After Ren had been successful at converting Middlings to Dream Travelers, Drake had stolen the research. And now before her sat someone claiming to have been converted. None of it made sense still. Why would someone abduct men, make them into werewolves, and then also Dream Travelers? What was the point? She needed more answers and there was only one way to find them.
“This lab where they made you,” Adelaide said to Zephyr. “Where was it? You said you escaped from it?”
“Los Angeles,” he answered at once.
“Do you know where any of the men are who you escaped with?” Adelaide asked him.
“No, we spread out,” he said.
“Can you take me to the lab?” Adelaide said.
“Yeah, I think so,” Zephyr said, scratching his head. “But I’m still confused on so many different things. Like, before when you introduced me,” he said to Rox. “Why did you call me the alpha?”
Rox smiled wide, winked at Zephyr. “Because there is only one in a pack and we think that’s you,” she said.
Chapter Fifteen
“All Olento products, experiments, and technology are proprietary of the company and anyone who shares information with outsiders is in breach of contract, no matter how small.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Convulsions rocked the metal operating surface. Wires snaking from the table to the various machines vibrated. And shaking, hairy fingers of an animal clenched into a fist. Three doctors with various specialties worked furiously, trying to stabilize the chimp. One pumped the animal’s chest, delivering CPR.
“Move!” another of the masked doctors said, holding the defibrillator in his hands. But the sharp beeping sound made him pause. Over his mask he eyed the screen beside the operating table. A long green flat line raced across the screen.
“Well, that’s another one we’ve lost,” Drake said from the other side of the mirrored glass, where he stood with Mika Lenna.
“Don’t say things I already know,” Mika said, pinning an angry look at the scientist. This was the second chimpanzee Olento had lost in the Muisti project. “There’s a fundamental error in the procedure you’ve developed.”
“Yes, I’m certain you’re right, but in my defense, changing the memory either by its capacity or how it catalogues is uncharted territory. And working on a being that has limited communication abilities makes the dilemma even greater,” Drake said. “The memory just isn’t something—”
“Stop with the excuses,” Mika said, cutting him off.
Drake regarded Mika with a challenging stare, one that seemed to speak of his growing animosity with being mistreated. Mika only noted that he’d hit a malfunctioning button in the older man. He knew that Drake had despised his father for treating him with superiority. It had been one of the many pieces of personal data he’d dug up on the scientist. And he knew that when he found this frayed nerve, the scientist would strive harder to please the subconscious father figure. This was how Mika made employees turn their backs to morals and do that which science begged for. He manipulated and exploited their weaknesses.
“If testing on chimpanzees isn’t working for the Muisti project then go and find a homeless man and conduct the experiment on him. Their memory isn’t serving them anyway, and I’ve always thought they should volunteer their worthless lives up to science. But we’ve been working on this project too long to give up,” Mika said, staring through the glass wall as the doctors removed the dead chimp from the room.
“Sir, I know that Olento is where your passion resides, but maybe turning more of your attention on Parantaa Research will help. Maybe you’ll get a fresh perspective on these experiments,” Drake said.
Mika lowered his chin and stroked his thin goatee. Drake knew Mika could read his thoughts using the telepathy he’d wired into his brain chemistry using Olento Research technology and yet the idiotic scientist continued to try and lie to him. Maybe he dared such a thing because he knew that the gifts Mika had built into himself using his technology weren’t as reliable as his natural Dream Traveler power of telekinesis. Drake didn’t think his boss needed a break. He wanted Mika out of his way, working on the projects at Parantaa Research. That had been Mika’s first venture and he had created drugs that revolutionized the medical industry. Mika’s long-term plan was to invest everything into Olento Research, but that kind of technology needed serious funding and creating pharmaceuticals was the best way to make easy billions. It was the work he’d done at Parantaa Research that made him the philanthropist that the public adored. Olento was his secret research company, which mostly served his aspirations of becoming powerful and also satisfy his curious mind. Also Mika had investors who were willing to pour millions into his ventures if they also gained something, which was the point of Project Canis Lupus.
“You will rework the protocol for the Muisti project and have a detailed report on my desk tomorrow morning by six o’clock,” Mika said, knowing that Drake would have to work throughout the night to accomplish such a task. Maybe that would keep him from offering up his opinions in the future.
Mika withdrew the cell phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket just before it rang. His heightened senses had told him that it was about to ring because it always vibrated minutely before it did. It was a sound that only people with his hearing could pick up.
The caller ID on the phone read Director of Security.
“What?” he said into the phone.
“Sir, I know how you like updates even if there isn’t anything to report,” Grant said on the other side of the phone.
“So you haven’t located Kaleb Magner yet,” he said.
“No, sir. We’ve had surveillance on his home, friends, old schools and workplaces, but he hasn’t turned up yet,” Grant reported, flatly.
“We know from the sighting that he’s in Salt Lake City,” Mika said, his chest tightening with anger. He failed to understand how after a month he hadn’t caught a single one of the werewolves. These were beasts who changed every week. They should be drawing more attention. Maybe the problem was that he had handpicked incredibly intelligent subjects. He’d meant to also break their will, but only after the other phases were successful. Apparently he should have done that first, because they were proving to be rebellious and calculating.
“Have your men check every hospital, church, jail, and homeless shelter in that city,” Mika said. “Kaleb Magner needs help. He will have sought out assistance.” Without a closing he simply shut off the mobile. Kaleb was the runt, which he created for a specific reason, knowing that unassuming men can be the most powerful. However, Kaleb’s background made it so he needed people. Kaleb usually relied on people rather than being self-sufficient like his alpha wolf, Zephyr. And the alpha wolf would be the hardest for Mika to catch, but it would be done.
Chapter Sixteen
“A good future is dependent on what we do today.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
Most people came to the soup kitchen because they had lost their jobs or drugs had stolen everything in their life. Kaleb was fairly certain no one was like him, that no one else there depended on the soup kitchen because they’d escaped after being abducted and genetically engineered to be a werewolf.
After thinking about it nonstop he still failed to understand the m
otives of the strange scientists at the lab where he’d been imprisoned. Even though his memories were fuzzy due to the drugs they’d given him, he could still see in his mind the hollow men and women who ignored the prisoners’ screams. Each was like a robot, following the orders of the man with a white and gray beard.
But Kaleb, who prided himself on his people-watching skills, knew the older scientist wasn’t the one in charge. It was whoever watched the experiments behind the mirrored wall at the back of the lab. And the guards answered to the man with the black flattop. Kaleb could always pick out the ranking in any organization thanks to his observation skills. That’s the reason he quit school and took a backpacking trip as a transient. He wanted to observe the world and find answers that were concrete and not written in religious text.
Now Kaleb had no idea what he’d do with his life. Each day he felt like he was only existing between what he now called the “attacks.” When the werewolf took over he was powerless and everyone around him was in danger. Kaleb couldn’t go out and get a job like most. And he definitely couldn’t do it without his identity surfacing again. Then his parents would know he was alive. They’d come after him. His father would spend any amount of money to find his son. But Kaleb had been gone for several months now. Hopefully they thought he was dead. That would be for the best because he couldn’t fathom the idea of them knowing what he’d become. They’d never look at him the same way. They’d think the devil had possessed him. However, sometimes when he awoke in the alley, shivering and hungry, he deluded himself into thinking that his parents would find a way to fix him. That they’d hire the best doctors in the world and discover a way to reverse whatever had been done to him.
Over his paper bowl of mystery soup Kaleb scanned the crowd in the dining area. He had started to name the regulars. There was Snake King, because the rough-looking Hispanic had tattoos of snakes covering both arms. Then there was Bag Lady, because the old white-haired woman carried four or five beat-up shopping bags everywhere she went, like she was afraid someone would steal the trash she’d taken from a dumpster. And then there was Droopy Eyes, because the old veteran, who told his stories too loudly, had more bags under his eyes than any person Kaleb had ever seen.
He was in the middle of trying to formulate a name for one of the other regulars when a face that he recognized entered through the main entrance. It was a face he’d hope never to see again. The head of security at the labs. The man with the black flattop and an “I don’t do fun” expression on his face. Kaleb ducked under his table using his super speed. They’d found him! But how? Actually, they hadn’t found him yet. Not if he could escape.
Hurrying on all fours, he crawled around the back table and toward the exit on the far end of the room. With a chance glance he popped his head up to spy the guard from the lab talking to one of the women who served soup with a smile. She nodded and then pointed to the back where Kaleb had been moments prior. He had to get out of there now!
“What are you doing down there?” Droopy Eyes said too loudly, just beside him at his table.
“Shhh,” Kaleb said, but hearing the marching feet he bolted to an upright position and sprinted for the door, leaving his bag of possessions he’d collected at the table.
“Stop right there,” the man yelled at his back, but Kaleb was already through the double doors and racing down the long hallway. He’d be faster than Mr. Black Flattop, he knew that. But he could still get shot in the back. With an impromptu hunch he took an immediate turn, seeking the back exit to the church. It was too likely that more guards were stationed at the front of the building. Kaleb zigzagged through the various hallways that led to offices and kitchens until he saw the neon green “EXIT” sign. At his back he heard the man yell, “The target is headed for the back exit.” He’d probably said that into an earpiece. Boosting his speed, Kaleb burst through the push door and into the wet alley behind the church.
Ripping his chin toward the east, he saw the alleyway was clear, spilling out into a busy street. He flipped his head the opposite direction to find two guards dressed in black with guns on their hips racing in his direction. Without hesitation he sprinted for the busy street, the guards losing him quickly.
“Stop, or we’ll shoot!” one yelled.
Kaleb would rather they shot him down than dragged him back to that lab. That’s why he didn’t tense when objects flew past him, missing their target. Darts. They were shooting darts at him. They didn’t want to hurt him, which was now to his advantage.
At the end of the alley, he didn’t hesitate. Kaleb ran straight into traffic, making cars swerve to miss him or slam on their brakes. Behind him he heard the men yelling, more than two voices now. He dared to turn his head to see five men all racing after him, their faces contorted from the endurance of keeping up with a boy with super speed. With an urgency he’d never felt before he bounded down the road, veering off into a large parking lot only half full of cars. Most people were leaving the mall now, but it would be the perfect place to lose these guys.
He was across the parking lot and through the main entrance in half the time it would take the guards. However, they’d spread out and be looking for him. Kaleb would have to outsmart these guys to get away. Then he’d have to run like hell.
His feet slapped the marble floors, gaining him attention from strolling shoppers. He pushed through large crowds, grateful for the hordes of people and then also wishing they’d part easier to let him pass.
“Move aside,” he heard someone yell in an authoritative voice. It was Mr. Black Flattop.
Kaleb tore across the open space of the mall and toward the escalators but to his dismay, the one ascending was clogged with shoppers. He chose the one descending toward his floor, hurrying double time to make it up to the top of the escalator. From over his shoulder he watched the guards order people out of their way as they ran for the escalator. Kaleb, knowing this mall well from his time recently spent pretending to browse, but really stay warm and dry, raced for the catwalk that connected to the parking garage. He paused when he was to the middle. His idea had been to jump over the barrier and grab onto the sign for the electronics store and then scale down from there. But he wasn’t in werewolf form and had never tried something like that while only human. And now the distance looked greater than he remembered. He didn’t want to risk missing and falling three stories. The men burst through the doors, holding their weapons in front of them.
“Why don’t you come with us, and we’ll take care of you,” Mr. Black Flattop said, the only one not holding a weapon at the ready.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Kaleb said and leapt in the opposite direction, jumping over the side of the catwalk wall in one move. He didn’t jump down to the street below but rather to the second level of the parking garage, one story down. Rolling out of the jump, he sprang to his feet. From his peripheral he caught the men watching from the catwalk, but none of them looked like they’d dare take the jump. Kaleb’s small size and dormant-werewolf strength made his attempt successful with the catty-corner jump.
He didn’t stop running until he made it to the ramp at the back. Once at the bottom he spied a shuttle for a retirement home. A gang of elderly men and women were lining up, as the driver held her clipboard close up to her face, her back to the open door of the vehicle. With ease, Kaleb sprinted to the shuttle and slipped into the back, where he slid down low next to the wheelchairs and first-aid supplies.
Chapter Seventeen
“The future is a product of what we sacrifice in the present.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Adelaide didn’t feel confident, but she knew how to fake it. She knew how to fake a lot of things. Happiness, remorse, kindness. She stood from the conference table, shorter than both Zephyr and Rox. She was usually the shortest person in the room, which made her angry since her father had been over six feet tall. With her shoulders back and a sturdy look on her face she said, “You two take lowly Middling travel to Los Ange
les. I’ll meet you at the docks,” she said, heading for the exit. Maybe if she hurried she could practice teleporting again. Or hypnosis. Or anything that she could bring to this fucking table where everyone else had the advantages it seemed.
“Do you mean by lowly Middling travel, the submarine?” Zephyr said, and now he was clutching the side of his neck like an ache had just erupted.
“How are you getting to Los Angeles?” Rox said, already scowling at Adelaide.
“On a GAD-C,” Adelaide said, like this was the dumbest question in the world.
Rox blinked at the girl blankly.
“Oh, Miss FBI thinks she’s a Dream Traveler, but she doesn’t know about GAD-Cs. Generateur automatique de corp,” Adelaide said with an awful French accent. “It’s Lucidite technology and allows us to dream travel to a location and then generates our bodies to that specific place using a complicated device.” She absentmindedly waved her hand at Rox. “I see your head is about to explode, so I’ll stop talking now.”
“Wait, I’m not taking a submarine when I can be there almost instantly,” Rox said.
“You are too, because someone has to keep an eye on Zep,” Adelaide said, pointing at him.
“Zephyr, please,” he said to Adelaide.
“Thanks for the correction, but I have a horrid memory and most likely will forget your preferences on name calling,” Adelaide said and then turned to Rox. “He’s too much a newbie to this for me to risk letting him on a GAD-C. I actually think you are too, but we’ll discuss that later. To the dry docks.” Adelaide pointed to the door, but she didn’t feel that she sounded in charge. She felt like a little girl pretending to be playing a game in the backyard with her rival neighbors and they were only humoring her.
“Uhhh…” Zephyr said, scratching the side of his face. “Thing is…” And he trailed away again.
Adelaide watched him for a moment. Took in the subtle ways his appearance had changed. Dilated pupils. Widening of his pores on the back of his hands. Sweat beading on his forehead.