Convergence

by Marita Smith

  Around the 20km mark, Fang felt nothing, just floated on the pavement as she dodged vendors opening stalls, the smell of coffee spilling out from alleyways. She’d increased the dosage on each of the IVs in the experimental area. Sara’s face rose unbidden. In her dream, the girl’s long hair had been streaked with vomit and her eyes were unfocused.

  By the time Fang arrived home, her father was awake, doing his stretches in the sunny space by the window. They acknowledged each other with a nod before Fang disappeared into the shower.

  There were only two places set at the table. “No Odysseus this morning?” Fang said as she dried her hair. Her brother pretended to hate the nickname, but she knew he secretly loved it. The Iliad and Odyssey were one of their few shared memories of their mother; they would snuggle in their parent’s bed after dinner, bound together by bittersweet mildewy pages and silverfish.

  “He’s gone down to the orphanage before work.” Her father poured the tea, hunched and small in his suit. “He always finds his way home.” There was a tweak at the edge of his lips, the closest her father came to a smile.

  Fang sighed. They each had their morning rituals, but she wished she saw more of her brother. She filled her father’s bowl with congee despite his protest that she take the lion’s share. He was getting too thin these days.

  She ate watching her father read the paper, pausing now and then to coax his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. She probably wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow morning. The company took so much of his time, even with her brother on board. Fang wondered what it would be like to spend all day with her father; she tried to remember a time when she had. Her chopsticks froze in mid-air. She couldn’t recall a single instance, even before her mother fell sick.

  Fang carried her bowl to the sink, rinsed it and added it to the dishwasher. She wiped the counter, then set out the chopping board and prepared three lunches. Tofu, rice, steamed vegetables; separate compartments for each ingredient. Her father had been more wedded to his work than he was to his wife. Maybe it was in her genes to crave solitude, self-imposed order.

  The chair at the table scraped backward.

  “Make sure you make time to eat this.” Fang forced the boxes into his hand. “Both of you.”

  Her father kissed her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

  At the door he stopped and turned back to her, eyes filled with warmth. “You’re looking more and more like her each day. She’d be proud of you, you know.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes but she forced them back. They’d made the decision together, she and her father, once her mother became too weak to talk. A frail woman in a hospital bed almost unrecognisable as the woman who’d left new books on her bed and packed her lunch just so. Her mother’s face morphed into Sara’s, sweaty and shaking.

  Fang hoped her mother would understand.

  In the experimental area dangling IVs reached empty chairs. Fang quickened her pace, heels clicking against the polished concrete. Miranda stood by the stairwell, talking to the group of monitoring scientists. Without her.

  “– more successful at winnowing than we would have thought.” Miranda paused as Fang reached the knot of people.

  “What happened?” Fang clutched her stack of folders to her chest. Everyone is so damn calm.

  Miranda nodded at the monitoring team and they moved back to the lab benches, dismantling equipment.

  “Did we … did we lose them all?” Could it be that none of the subjects had survived the higher dose of radiation? It just wasn’t possible. Probable, her brain automatically corrected.

  Miranda cocked a finger in Fang’s direction. “Follow me.” They passed through the experimental area to a set of offices parallel to her own. Miranda pressed a button and the glass panels lightened.

  Fang dropped her folders in shock. The blonde girl, Sara, lay in a hospital-grade bed, a jittery heartbeat zigzagging on the monitor. Relieved she’d survived, Fang nearly missed the sinewy cat curled at the girl’s feet.

  “Is that – the leopard?” Fang’s eyes widened in realisation. “The mutation targets worked.” She spun to face Miranda, who smiled.

  “We did it.”

  Fang moved closer, almost pressing her nose to the glass. Sara was pale, with sweat-matted hair plastered to her scalp. The girl’s eyes fluttered. Sara had survived.

  “The others?”

  Miranda walked to the next room, illuminating the interior with a jab at the wall panel. A boy lay in a nest of mussed-up blankets. Fang scanned the room for an animal.

  “No pairing, but he survived the night. It’s a good sign.” Miranda left both rooms bright as she faced Fang.

  “Only two.” Fang wracked her brain. Maybe she had upped the dosage too high. “None of the other subjects survived?” Or maybe her target compounds had been wrong. Fear gripped her chest and she found it difficult to breathe.

  Miranda tapped on Sara’s window. The cat angled toward them, tail sliding back and forth across the bed. “We have what we need. We know it’s possible to induce the mutation now. We don’t need the others. Wheat from the chaff.”

  Two from thirty test subjects. Fang felt the hairs on her arms rise. A less than seven percent conversion rate.

  “I took the liberty of increasing their dosage above your upper limit.”

  Fang stared at Miranda. “But that would have been an incredible stressor on their systems.” Fang hadn’t killed them. Relief made her shoulders heavy. She needed to sit down, had to stop herself reaching for her puffer.

  “It was necessary.” Miranda’s clipped voice stopped Fang from saying anything more.

  The IV drips and chairs were gone when they moved back to the lab space, all trace of the other subjects removed. Fang didn’t want to know where.

  12

  Flight

  Robyn tried to focus on the peaks Derek was showing her; she really did, but Eva wouldn’t stop barging around the living room. A 150kg toddler.

  “This one, I think, could be some sort of long-chain alkene …” Derek said. The sofa scraped against the wall as Eva rammed into it, huffing. Robyn rested her head in her hands, counting to three. The screeching continued.

  Robyn raised her head. “Fletcher?” He was lying upside down, legs splayed over the object of Eva’s wrath.

  “Yeah?” Fletcher said.

  “Can you ask Eva to keep it down?” The moment the words left her mouth, Robyn knew she’d said the wrong thing. The bear glared at her as Fletcher reoriented himself.

  “She’s not built for such a small space. She’s restless, Robyn.” And it’s all your fault, his eyes said.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Robyn closed her eyes again. Tired, she was just so tired, barely back from Montreal and already sifting through Derek’s new data. Catherine had cooked her pancakes and she honestly thought it was the only reason she’d survived the return Greyhound bus trip. A maple syrup force field of positivity. Whatever it was, it was long gone now.

  Ping. Derek jumped to his feet, knocking several pages off the table. They drifted like snowflakes to the floor.

  “What was that?” It sounded like a mobile phone. Robyn reached out to pick up the fallen chromatograms.

  Ping.

  “It’s the doorbell.” Derek turned to Fletcher with a shaky hand. “Into the bedroom, now.”

  Fletcher flipped onto his feet and Eva barged into the wall, chipping a hunk of plaster. Dust rose in her wake as the door clicked shut behind them.

  “Any ideas?” Robyn whispered, thinking of the owner of the box. Everyone seemed to have bloody ex-girlfriends.

  Derek shook his head. “Nope.”

  Muffled voices rose from the other side of the door as the knob began to turn.

  “Jesus Christ,” muttered Derek. Robyn scoured the room for a weapon. She moved to Derek’s side as t
he door burst open, heart thudding. This couldn’t be over. They’d barely started.

  It took her a good few seconds to comprehend the familiar faces.

  “Kate? Kara?” Robyn shrieked, running down the hallway to draw Kara into a hug. Kate rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Uh, saving your ass,” Kate said. She waved at Derek. “Hi.”

  Derek froze in the kitchen. “Robyn?” he said, voice wary. “You know them?”

  “Yeah. Derek, these are my friends.” Robyn stared at Kara. “You guys flew out here?”

  “Look, if we could get a cup of tea or something before we play twenty questions, that would be nice.” Kate looked defiant, but Robyn noticed the dark shadows under her eyes.

  “Of course.” Backing up, Robyn clattered mugs onto the table. “Fletcher, it’s all right, you can come out now.”

  The bedroom door creaked and Fletcher stuck his head out. Head cocked to the side, he stared at the newcomers.

  “No way.” Kate gaped as Eva slunk out of the room. “Can I?” She twitched her hand in Eva’s direction. When Fletcher nodded, she bounded over to the bear, rubbing Eva’s neck with both hands. Her stiff hair tickled Eva’s chin and Eva jerked upward, sending Kate sailing across the living room, landing heavily on the sofa. It warped and clanked apart, finally defeated.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Kate said, clasping her hand to her mouth.

  Fletcher laughed so hard Robyn worried he might burst a blood vessel. Derek waved her apology away. “Don’t sweat it.”

  A computer arsenal appeared on the dining table confirming Robyn’s suspicions. The many group projects, the snippets of code. “So, I take it there’s no hacker friend, right?”

  Kara sipped her tea. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, Robyn, which is why I sort of … skirted around the truth.”

  Kate snorted behind her sister, straightening her mohawk. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Robyn opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to say. An image of the fish in the cave popped into her head and she closed her mouth. Kara didn’t expand on what the truth entailed.

  “You need us,” Kara said. “We’ve both taken the semester off.”

  Kate nodded. “Snakeskin,” she mouthed at Robyn.

  “Constant movement is key. We can’t stay in any one place too long,” Kara continued, oblivious to her sister behind her.

  Fletcher raised both hands above his head. “Exactly. This is what I’ve been saying all week.”

  “We need lab access.” Robyn rubbed her right temple, glancing at Derek for support. They couldn’t drop everything and run. Until they worked out why and how Fletcher communicated with Eva, they had nothing. Zip. Nada.

  Derek cleared his throat. “She’s right. We can’t figure any of this out without a lab. We’d be running blind.”

  Thank you, Robyn felt like screeching, but smiled at Derek instead.

  The sleek black helicopter loomed in the darkness above the university, no external lights betraying its presence. The rhythmic whirring of the blades masked the excitement within.

  “Sir, we have a heat contact.” The thermal imager showed a blue-red blob, too large to be human.

  “Could it be the bear?” Vulcan spoke into his earpiece, leaning back into the safety of his padded office chair.

  “Possibly, sir.” The soldier nodded, still watching the thermal imager.

  “Worth a look,” Vulcan said. “Stun and capture only. I repeat. Stun and capture only.”

  “Roger.”

  Vulcan spun one of the red feathered darts in his hand. He’d calculated the dosage himself. He had thought Derek incapable of concealing anything from him. People were so disappointing.

  One of the consoles on Derek’s dining table released a string of blips. Robyn stared at the red light.

  “Shit.” Kara flipped switches. “We’ve got company.”

  “In the air?” Kate’s hands whizzed on her keyboard.

  “Affirmative.” Kara shoved computer equipment into a large duffel bag. “Time to go.”

  Derek looked as shocked as Robyn felt, frozen in place clutching their chromatograms.

  “Move, people,” Kate yelled from the hallway. “Everyone in the goddamn van.”

  “What about Eva?” Fletcher didn’t leave the bear’s side. Robyn tipped her head as a faint whirring sound reached her. Her eyes widened as the full implications of in the air became clear.

  Shit.

  Derek snapped out of his trance, rummaging in the closet. “Here.” He thrust a reflective package into Fletcher’s arms. “It’s a space blanket. It’ll cover her heat signature in the short term.”

  Kate nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

  Heat signature? It was like they were speaking another language. Robyn felt herself propelled toward the door. Eva had scampered ahead and hunkered in one corner of the van, crinkling in silver foil. Robyn followed and the van door slid shut behind her, plunging them into darkness. Someone squeezed her hand. Derek.

  Kate revved the engine. “Hold on to something back there.” The street light caught the pink in her hair, blurring it into a halo. An avenging angel. Robyn gripped Derek’s hand right back, her heart hammering in her chest. She could no longer hear the whirring noise. Maybe it passed over us, Robyn thought, a kernel of hope slowing her heartbeat.

  Kara leapt into the passenger seat and yanked out a laptop, leaving her seatbelt dangling by her side. “What do you think – standard electromagnetic dispersal?”

  “If you can get it up and running in time.” Kate peeled out onto the road, tyres bouncing. Kara stuck her arm into the duffel bag where it disappeared up to her shoulder.

  “Got it.” Kara yanked out an aerial, then leaned out the window to slap it against the roof, where it lodged with a dull thunk like a heavy magnet on a fridge.

  “We need cover. I’m heading for the forest.” Kate wrenched the steering wheel to the right and the van lurched. Robyn rammed into Derek, who clutched her shoulder to stop her from falling.

  Out of nowhere, the helicopter banked in front of them, hovering above the bitumen with a rush of sound. Robyn heard the static of a radio over the thwack thwack thwack of the blades. Her shoulders shook as she fought the urge to duck and hide, anything to get out of the chopper’s line of sight. Derek’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

  “Holy shit,” said Kate. “Hurry up, sis.”

  “This is very complicated.” Kara typed a swathe of code. “Plus, they won’t shoot. We’ve got the assets.”

  The helicopter levelled, and a barrel set into the side rotated.

  “Oh, really?” Kate gunned the engine, skidding the rear wheels out just as the pilot fired, screaming “Duck”.

  Events slowed. Bullets pinged against the runner board as green light engulfed Fletcher, spreading away from his body to envelop them all. As it zipped up Robyn’s arms she felt the buzz of energy, like crackling electricity. Bullets raked the side of the van, ricocheting from the orb of green light.

  Kate straightened the wheels, shooting the van around the chopper and picking up speed. The green light shot backward toward Fletcher with a rushing sound and disappeared.

  Robyn released her breath she’d been holding. Wide-eyed, Fletcher touched his stomach, his legs. He nodded at Robyn, an uncertain jerk of his head.

  Somehow, Fletcher had stopped the bullets.

  “How about now?” Kate changed gear and the van shuddered.

  “Working on it.” Kara kept tapping away. By the time the chopper turned around, the van was half a mile away, the road flanked by old-growth trees.

  “They won’t be pulling that little stunt again,” Kate grinned. “Bastards.”

  Thwack thwack thwack.

  “Damn it, sis.” Kate stuck her head out the window and swore under
her breath.

  Robyn pulled away from Derek and crawled toward Fletcher. Wisps of green twined around his arms. Robyn ripped her gaze from the light to the window, shocked to see that the helicopter was so close she could see the implacable mask of the pilot.

  “There.” Kara’s fingers stilled and the aerial on the roof emitted a piercing shriek. Robyn covered her ears, hitting the metal floor with her elbows. Though the noise subsided Eva wailed into Fletcher’s shoulder, whose own face was still screwed up in a grimace. Ultra high frequency, Robyn realised, above human range – it must be deafening to Eva and, by extension, Fletcher.

  Thwack … thwack … thwack.

  The blades slowed. Robyn scrambled to the rear window and watched in horror as the aircraft dropped lower in the sky. It levelled for a moment before tilting forward at an impossible angle, blades rushing to meet the bitumen with a terrible metallic screech. The landing skids crumpled as the body of the chopper disintegrated in a mess of whirling metal.

  Flames flickered around the rim of the front window, silhouetting the twins high-fiving in the front of the bouncing van. A loud explosion echoed behind them, filling the van with an eerie orange glow. Robyn didn’t look back. Fletcher had stopped the bullets, and her best friend had brought down a helicopter filled with people. Robyn couldn’t process it all right now. Instead, she curled up against Eva, who huffed before allowing Robyn to nestle into her shoulder.

  Vulcan tore the useless earpiece out. Static poured from it as he rubbed his chin, speechless. Tottering to the cabinet, he pulled out the whisky and swigged it straight from the bottle.

  The lab.

  Derek’s pristine workstation yielded nothing out of the ordinary. Vulcan paused in front of the fridge. Dozens of sample racks stared back at him. Derek had been showing more initiative this past week. He wrenched open the door and began pulling out vials.

  13

  Holding Pattern

  Nestled in the space blanket in the back of the van, Robyn woke to silence. “Derek?” she whispered. The blanket scrunched and she winced at the magnitude of the sound. Robyn peeled herself out of the nest and noticed the headlights were still on, illuminating a wooden building directly ahead.