The Mirror Cracks (The Human-Hybrid Project Book 3)

by Farley Dunn

  GARIK CARRIED the box with the gaming console. Grunt labor, although he didn’t mind being the pack mule today. Now, Christian had a reason to be in Garik’s apartment, and no one would be looking for something devious or underhanded in their time together outside the recreation area or training cells.

  The elevator doors opened. Straight and right would take them to his old room. They made an immediate left, past the emergency clinic with its darkened windows, away from the break area with its fully stocked kitchen, and the opposite direction from the recreation area. People began to fill the corridors, a few at first, then more. Garik recognized many of the faces, even if he didn’t know all the names. Christian had been so busy with his training, there hadn’t been time for social introductions. At the new apartment, Joseph Howard and Tyrone Brown were just inside the door.

  Tyrone flashed his familiar smile, but it was Joseph who spoke. “Weren’t sure where you wanted it, and Ty thought near the door. That okay by you?”

  “My ZBoard? I didn’t expect that. Thanks!” They had already moved the ZBoard’s charging unit for him without him having to ask. Rodheimer must have been really impressed with what he saw during his fight with Justin.

  “I ’spected you would want it, so when we moved your things, we brought it along.”

  Garik’s eyes went damp. The people at the top could learn something from the little guys on their team. Be nice to the people under you, and they’ll be nice to you. How did Kevin Lee used to say it? Leave it like you found it, cleaner if you can.

  Garik gave them a nod and said, “You ever need anything, I’ll help if I can.”

  “Thank you. Have a good day.” Joseph nodded and touched his temple as if tipping a hat. Tyrone grinned, and Garik nodded back.

  Garik still wanted out, would Houdini at the first window, but until then, this was a pretty slick place to be. He couldn’t wait until Christian came for a visit.

  GARIK TOOK time to explore once everyone left. The apartment had two real rooms. The kitchen was a tiny unit tucked in a nook, but the place had everything he needed, especially a separate bedroom. A living room held a couch and a chair, even a coffee table with two remote controls. He set the box on the coffee table and pulled out the gaming unit.

  “So, they love you more.”

  Garik looked up. Justin stood just inside the door. “Justin,” he said, unsure why he was here. He pictured the man’s ferocity in the ring, and his stomach turned over, freezing his heart for several beats. He tried to process his best options for the attack he was sure was coming.

  “I got demoted.” Justin walked in, his attitude casual, almost as if they had something common between them, something besides being hybrid. He looked inside the bedroom and turned back to Garik, his face hardening. He was a gunslinger, ready to draw and fire.

  “I didn’t ask for this.” Garik wanted that between them.

  “Yes, you did. When you humiliated me in front of the Director.”

  “Why are you here, Justin?” Garik would fight, but he didn’t want it to come to that.

  “I’ve seen you and your friends together.”

  “So?” Garik tried to follow the man’s intimations, to place what he might be talking about. There was nothing to connect them to anything—

  “There.” Justin slipped a mini flash drive from his pocket and dropped on the coffee table. “There’s more than one way to listen in to a conversation.”

  Then he was out the door.

  ― 4 ―

  RACQUETBALL. Who would have thought being in a white, windowless room by yourself and whacking a tiny ball could be so satisfying?

  Garik tossed the ball up, swung his racquet, felt the impact of the racquet against the ball feed down his forearm, followed by the rewarding whack of the rubber sphere against the far wall. The sound in the contained, hard space reverberated in his ears.

  He leaped, caught the ball on the return, and whack.

  Over and over as sweat ran down his face, and his shirt and shorts clung to him like wet rags.

  Whack! For Marisa. I’m not in Russia, Mari.

  Whack! Hayat, skateboarding together off curbs.

  Garik’s eyes blurred. He pressed his face to his shoulders, a quick move in between leaping for the ball, unable to admit to the emotions.

  Whack! Ibn, I miss you, my friend.

  Whack! Robbie, my little brother.

  Whack! I need a hug, Iri.

  Whack! Muhammad, Allah be praised.

  Garik grinned when he thought of Muhammad, even as his heart burned.

  Whack! Wesji. Whack! Wajeha. Whack! Vladimir and Giorgio. Whack! Mrs. Waggoner. Whack! The three shrimps. And Alexi. Regina. Everyone, whack, whack, whack!

  Whack! For Garik, who’s lost and can’t find his way back again.

  Garik half squatted, his elbows resting on his knees, his emotions ripping air from his throat, and his need to breathe shoving it back in. The blue rubber ball came to rest at his feet, and he watched it roll to a stop.

  Justin. Justin! Anger tore through him.

  Garik had played the mini flash drive. His voice, Paolo’s and John’s had all been there. There was no mistaking the complicity among the three.

  Justin! Of all people!

  Garik adjusted the legs of his shorts, unsticking the fabric from his skin, and giving himself room to flex and move. He leaned toward the ball and grasped it in his hand, compressing the hollow sphere, flattening it before tossing it into the air.

  A thing few people could easily do.

  Whack! Gari watched as the ball passed the service line, slammed into the front wall, returned to him and impacted him right between the eyes. His legs gave out under him, knocking him hard on the short line. His racquet skittered across the floor.

  Clapping echoed into the hard-walled space, and Garik looked behind him. Through the glass back wall, Joanie McDonald raised an arm, yelled, “Hoot, hoot!” and slammed a palm against the glass. Sandwiched between her hand and the glass was a package of mints. “Mint, barker boy?”

  “Not my name,” he called, his face heating with shame. “And no.”

  “Your way.” She yanked open the door and shrugged in the same motion, and she paused before entering. “Your permission?”

  “Yeah, Joanie. Come in.”

  Garik drew his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and watched the ball. It was still rolling, and it hit the wall, skittered off, and came to a stop.

  “Angry game.” She dropped beside him, her legs crossed.

  “Angry game,” he confirmed. He lifted his shirt, pressed it to his face, and dropped it. “Do you need something?”

  She reached into her pocket and opened her hand to reveal a mini flash drive.

  “Justin.” Garik’s shoulders sagged. He’d thought he was already as miserable as he could be, but he realized there were always more depths to plumb. The man would be their undoing.

  “Ideas?” Joanie popped two of the mints in her mouth and crunched one.

  “You play?” He motioned around the court.

  “Yeah. Not this. You stink.” She pointed a finger at him and grinned. “Shower.” She thumbed toward the door and stood.

  Garik unraveled himself and joined her, gathering the ball and the racquet on the way. Who else had received a flash drive? He could kick himself. No place was private, no matter what they said. Any word anywhere could be recorded.

  He’d do well to remember that.

  GARIK ENTERED the changing rooms for the recreation area, the one where he had injured his hand on the broken mirror. A posse of runners, likely off-duty researchers, were pulling on sleeveless jerseys and joking with one another and laughing. One man was seated and tying the laces on a pair of purple and white running shoes. He pushed his tall socks to his ankles before standing and tossed a towel over one shoulder. Street clothes hung on hooks and spilled out of bags, with some scattered on the floor.

  The men’s glances told Garik that he was differe
nt, unwelcome, although they didn’t say it. He made his way through them to the showers, grabbed a towel and soap on the way, and tried to block out the sounds of friends enjoying one another’s company.

  By the time he was out, they were gone, although their things were not. He looked around, certain Justin’s recording device was likely still in place. He had maybe an hour before they returned. He began running his fingers under the edges of the benches, moving the men’s shoes and clothing, and occasionally scrunching his nose at an item with an especially strong odor.

  He was on the third bench when he heard the familiar, “Hey, kiddo, there you are.”

  “Yeah, Devon.” He trusted the activities director, and he continued to search.

  “Looking for you. I saw Joanie in the break area, and she pointed me here.”

  “You found me.” He returned two satchels under the bench and stood to move toward the next one.

  “You’re okay? I mean, you and Christian. He’s doing you right?” Devon glanced around the room, taking in the disarray. “Have you taken on some sort of cleanup duty?”

  “Yeah, cleanup duty. Devon, I don’t have time to chat. Anything specific?” Garik heard Joanie coming out in him. Then, patience wasn’t his thing at the moment.

  “It’s the next mall event. A new group, the Ace Holes.” He chuckled and winked. “Really, Ace of Holes, but—” He shrugged like it was a really good joke.

  “Okay.” Garik dropped and leaned under the bench. He didn’t care much about the Ace of Holes. He needed Justin’s recording device.

  “So, do you want to go?”

  “Go?” Garik pulled out from under the bench and looked at him. “To an event?”

  “Yes.” Devon pushed a bag out of the way and sat on a bench.

  “I don’t have permission. Last time, I was there only because Jantzen had me on a leash. Sorry, Devon.” He dropped back under the bench and satisfied himself that it was recording device free before reemerging.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Not stinky socks.” Garik wrinkled his nose. “Every one of these guys has his own stinky smell, and I’m going to choke.”

  “About the event.” Devon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He grinned. “Jantzen’s already said you can go.”

  “Why?” Garik could hardly focus on Devon’s invitation. He had a recording device on his mind, and he didn’t know how long he had until the running posse returned. He knelt and began to feel under the sinks.

  “Party, kiddo. I need to teach you how. Hey, whatever, let me help you look.” Devon crossed the room, chose the next sink, knelt to see what was underneath.

  “Okay, Devon, I’m looking for a microphone or something that can record a conversation.”

  “Oh, easy. Done.” Devon stood and slammed the cabinet door.

  “You have it?” Garik sat with his knees on the floor, surprised the man found it so quickly.

  “Not with me. It’s in my office.”

  Not Devon! Garik could hardly believe the rec director was complicit with Justin in recording private conversations in the changing rooms. He felt his trust in the man bleeding away.

  “Are you with Justin, then?” Of course, he was.

  “Justin, you mean, Kurtew? I don’t get the connection.”

  “But you have the microphone.”

  “I sa—id that.” Devon rocked his head to the side, drawing out the word. “You, my friend, need a distraction, like a party.” He grinned. “On the mall!”

  “Okay, I’ll go, but first, tell me how you have the microphone I’m looking for.” Sheesh! Yes, this was proof. Every single person in this place was a total and complete idiot, perhaps even him!

  “What you people don’t clean, I have to police. This mess?” He motioned around the room. “I can report the people here if I know who leaves it, but if they don’t clean it, it’s up to me. So, Garik, my friend, clean up after yourself!” He laughed.

  “Leave it like you found it, cleaner if you can.” Kevin Lee’s philosophy. In the moment, Garik missed the martial arts teacher, even if he had barely known him. He was from outside, his life before this place, from Bay City, from a connection that had been broken and was now more desirable than ever.

  “Perfect! You, kiddo, understand perfectly. So, we’re on? Friday?” Devon with his blond cowlick grinned expectantly.

  “Right-o, Devon.” Garik lifted a hand, calling, “Bam, done.”

  “Ha, ha!” Devon laughed and disappeared out the door.

  Garik took in a deep breath. Devon. Trees and water. He was surprised he could find the man in all the surrounding stink, and it did stink, all nine of the researchers, each one as individual as the parts of a machine.

  Then he realized he’d been able to smell Devon through the rank stable of odors all along. If he met these men again, he’d know each of them by their smell. And it wasn’t something he would likely ever forget.

  GARIK ARRIVED on the mall.

  He hadn’t expected his passkey to work one of the main elevators, but finding out it did wouldn’t help him out of the basement research complex. At least he understood how the hybrids like him could join the events on the mall without chaperones. Once the wall went up, enclosing the mall, the elevators accepted the passkeys given to the research subjects.

  Be home by midnight, Cinderella. Or no pumpkins for you!

  More likely, they would turn into pumpkins if they weren’t underground when the walls were banished back into the sidewalks by their fairy godmothers.

  No lost glass shoes for you! Back, back underground where you live!

  Garik could run his fingers through his hair, now. It was enough to show some curl, although not to tie back into a bun. The thought of Marisa, her hands at his neck that day they visited the Tower with Kevin Lee. And now, here he was, living in the Tower.

  Well, the basements, like a thing, a deformed uncle you were afraid to show to the world.

  The wind whipped past him when he stepped outside, thrusting chilled fingers down his jacket. He touched the flash drive he carried in his pocket, afraid to leave it anywhere. Devon had invited Annie Vanschooneveld to join them. Annie had dark eyes, and her red lipstick accentuated her big teeth when she smiled. Her hair was pulled back, and her face was softened by long bangs that covered her eyebrows.

  Annie was the reason for Garik’s jacket.

  “Garik, Annie.” They had shown up at Garik’s door dressed warmly. “Annie’s the foreign affairs attaché.”

  “Hello, Garik.” She held out a slender hand to shake.

  “Foreign, like other countries?”

  “Yes, I’m away more than I’m here. This is my first time to get to attend an event. Devon insisted I come. You’ve been before?” She smiled.

  “Once.” He shook her hand, noticing how Devon looked at her when she was talking. He wondered if that was how he’d watched Marisa, and in the image in his head, he also recalled her words to him to pay attention.

  The memory made him smile.

  “You enjoyed it, then.” She turned to Devon. “You said it didn’t go well.”

  Devon shrugged and looked down, his Nordic skin flaming with streaks of red under his cheekbones. Annie asked Garik if he was planning on a coat. Garik looked at Devon for clarification, and Devon agreed he should.

  Yea, Annie!

  Outside, the night wasn’t yet fully dark, and around him, Bay City stretched south, rising in elevation toward Stanwick Hill. In the distance, he could just see the Ransom Communications Building with its rack of antennae thrust skyward and illuminated. To its right was his home, except for the other buildings in the way.

  Home. Marisa. His friends. He blinked his eyes to clear them and put on a smile. He was at a party, and it was his night to have a good time.

  The Ace of Holes was here! Yea!

  He stepped into the food court and past the tables he and his friends used to gather around. Out from under the building, the wall surroun
ding the mall blocked the view of anything at eye level.

  He was at the ball. He had gotten his wish, and it wasn’t what he thought it would be.

  ― 5 ―

  THE ACE of Holes logo spilled across the marquee on the mall’s large sign. The image of a card wearing a giant ace of spades twirled, and a gun sent a bullet flying through the center, punching clean through the black ace and stopping the card’s spin. The words “Ace of Holes” spilled out, accompanied by streamers and fireworks until they filled up the massive screen.

  “Have fun, you two! I’m going to search for my friends.” Garik waved to Devon and Annie, certain they wanted to be alone.

  “Have fun!” Annie waved, and she tucked her arm in Devon’s, the way Garik wished Marisa had tucked hers in his. They had forgotten him before he turned away.

  As he searched the crowd, it crossed his mind that if Annie were allowed attend, so could people like Jeffrey Howard and Andrew Miner. He tried to picture the thin man with his glasses, together with the balding barrel of a man. He couldn’t do it.

  He did find Airman Wu Han. As with last time, military types were scattered across the mall, likely to ensure that the hybrids attending the event kept their sometimes burgeoning and rampant killer instincts under control. Thank you, Justin, for teaching me that, Garik thought sourly. He headed Wu’s direction, hoping to renew a connection with someone he had enjoyed and looked up to.

  He was waylaid by Airman Vang.

  “Ah, Mr. Shayk. I see you are once more with us for one of our shows.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Vang. I’m hoping to catch someone. Do you mind?” Garik tried to keep Wu in sight, but he couldn’t maintain a conversation with the short Vang and look out across the mall at the same time.

  “I will not keep you long. I wish to congratulate you on your performance against Mr. Kurtew. I understand the Director has upgraded your accommodations. Well earned. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Shayk.”

  “Thank you, Airman.” Garik stepped away, now unable to find Airman Han. He took a deep breath and quieted his emotions. Even when he was being nice, Airman Vang was a wrecking ball battering the best things about Garik’s day.