Harry told her the rest of the story, his experiments and his simulation with combining DNA. “I didn’t think someone would actually do it,” he finished.
The expression on Anastasia’s face and the fact of her form being as it was told him all he needed to know. Someone had already gone beyond what he first imagined, but had perverted his research in a way he’d also never dreamed of. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but abruptly she snapped her fingers and brought him back to reality. “I’m still listening.”
With a sigh, he told her about his days in jail and the virtual blackmail Farrell had laid on him. She took all of it in, the expression on her face gradually softening as the details came out. “So you didn’t have much of a choice, huh?”
“No, they made the call, not me.”
She meditated on his answer. “I guess we’re both prisoners, aren’t we?” Her voice came out lifelessly.
What could he tell her to make her feel better about her life? Then she said, “Tell me about your parents.”
“Why?” No one had ever bothered asking him about his folks, either before or after they died. It just wasn’t in the cards. “Why do you want to know?
Anastasia lifted her shoulders slightly. “No special reason, just that…I don’t remember mine, what my mother or father looked like. According to what that guy Oleg said I’m Siberian, so at least I know my roots—maybe.”
She doesn’t remember anything about her family. At least I had one, he thought. He licked his lips, found they were dry, and wondered what to say. “Well, they were pretty cool. They supported me and, uh, didn’t push me to study or anything. They worked a lot and let me do what I wanted. I…” he hesitated, “I wasn’t much for going to school.”
“Not a lot of friends,” she said. It came out as a statement and not a question.
He shook his head and mumbled, “No.”
Anastasia squeezed his shoulder gently. “Well, you got one friend.”
He felt the blood rush to his face, and turned his attention to the alley. It was the only thing he could do in order to take his mind off the situation. Shyness begat shyness, and while he wanted to tell her he liked her and her attitude, he couldn’t really find the words. “You know, I…”
The sound of a car horn interrupted him, and then a voice called out, “Harry, Harry Goldman, you around here, man? It’s Jason!”
Harry motioned for Anastasia to wait. Paranoia ruled and he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t been tailed. Wary of a trap, he yelled out, “What’s your last name?” Then he realized they were in an alley with no alternate route of escape. Pretty dumb of them to have camped out here, but then again, there’d been no place to go the night before.
The person who’d issued the invitation sounded exasperated. “Aw, man, it’s Parham. You know that, right?”
Anastasia crept back inside the box and Harry cautiously walked out to greet his old friend. People passed them by, but after cautiously scanning the street, he didn’t see anyone wearing a dark suit or shades.
Jason hadn’t changed much over the past few years. Taller now and just as skinny, he had long, straight black hair halfway down his back and wore a rumpled black T-shirt with a picture of a mean-looking unicorn on it and a pair of jeans. His face was sallow and spotty-complexioned which spoke of a lack of direct sunlight along with too much oily food.
“Hi,” he said, and gave Harry an awkward bro-hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Harry stepped out of the embrace, slightly embarrassed. “Uh, yeah, it’s good to meet you again.” He didn’t know what else to say and hated his inability to act cool like everyone else.
“Got your message before,” Jason said, nodding all the while. “Borrowed my father’s car ‘cuz my parents went on holiday and…”
Harry interrupted him, holding up his hand. “Listen, I’m sort of in a tight spot. I appreciate the pick-up and all, but I’ve got a problem and you’re the only one who can help.”
The expression on Jason’s face was nothing if not confident as he tapped his skinny chest. “Hey, man, we’re practically bona fide best buddies, right? You got a problem, I can fix it. What’s going on?”
Harry gestured toward the back of the alley and when Jason came over to take a look at the cat-lady sitting in the box, his look of surety disappeared and he let out a low, nervous laugh. “Man, is this freaky or what? It’s Miss…”
His voice dried up when Anastasia launched herself at him with a snarl and pinned him against the opposite wall. With her free hand, she flicked open her claws to menace his face. “If you’re thinking about calling me a cartoon character’s name, then don’t. Just…don’t.”
Jason’s face paled and he squawked out, “Hey, all I meant was this is…different.”
She let him go and stalked back to the box while he stood there massaging his throat and looking back and forth at them. “Is this for real?” he asked.
Harry placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Take us to your place and we’ll tell you everything.”
Parham lived north of Manhattan. His father’s car, a vintage Corvette, moved smoothly through the streets. Harry and Anastasia sat in the back seat and she kept her head down during the entire journey, muttering to herself and holding her stomach. Halfway to their destination she started groaning and the sounds increased in loudness and intensity with every passing mile. “What’s wrong?” Jason asked. He glanced nervously in the rearview mirror and then turned around to concentrate on driving.
“I feel carsick.”
Jason muttered something about cats not being car-trained and Harry had to use every bit of his strength to restrain her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jason yelled after she managed to slash a tiny chunk of flesh from his neck. He bled profusely, and between his swearing and her moans of motion sickness, Harry wondered if they’d ever reach their host’s house in one piece.
Finally, after an hour’s drive, they arrived at a very nice two-story job in a quiet neighborhood. Jason cut the engine, held his hand to the back of his neck, and announced, “We’re near Inwood Park. My dad owns a real-estate company and my mother helps him in the business. Wait a minute.”
He got out of the car and ran to the front of his house, unlocked it, swiveled his head left and right to check for whatever enemies might have been lurking in the bushes, and hastily waved to his passengers. Anastasia quickly tore inside with Harry and Jason close behind.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she gasped out once they got through the door. Her face was green. Harry had never seen anyone literally turn green before. It was a sight he was sure he’d never forget. Then again, the last two days had been pretty unforgettable.
“Upstairs, second door on your left,” Jason said and pointed the way. He then quickly drew the drapes to hide the room from prying eyes.
She raced up the stairs and seconds later, Harry heard the sounds of retching, quick breaths followed by forceful exhalations. It sounded like everyone he’d ever heard barf, only worse. Jason wondered aloud if she was heaving or tossing up a hairball. “Let it go,” Harry ordered and his friend shut his mouth.
The sounds of hurling continued and then the toilet flushed. More running water noises followed, and after a few minutes, Anastasia came down the stairs carefully grooming her whiskers. Her color—hard to tell with the fur—appeared to be more normal. “Thanks, I feel better now.”
“No problem,” Jason said with a more than slightly spaced out look on his face and a tone of wonder in his voice. He quickly shut the door and looked at his hand. It was smeared with blood. “Man, if there’re stains on the car seats my mother’s gonna have kittens.”
Anastasia snarled and he hastily changed his reply to, “Have a cow, okay? She’s gonna have a cow!”
He walked into another room and Harry heard the sound of running water. Jason came back a minute later holding a damp cloth to his neck. Unusual circumstances notwithstanding, he seemed t
o have recovered his cheerful attitude pretty quickly. “So, you like the place or what?”
The house had all the trappings of upper-class wealth—expensive couches and sofas, an enormous fifty-two inch screen flat television, antique furniture—the works. Harry also noticed a number of electronic gadgets lying around, mainly game-players, software, modems, and more. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice.”
Anastasia gave a soft purr, sniffed the air, and then nosed her arms and shoulders. “I need a shower.”
Her comment reminded Harry that his own body reeked and reeked hard. “Yeah, I guess I need one, too.”
Jason simply pointed to the upstairs and stole a quick glance at Anastasia. “You already know where everything is. I think I got some extra clothes for you. My big sis moved out last year to a college dorm, but she left some stuff behind. I’ll do a search-and-find mission while you’re getting clean.”
“What about me?” Harry asked.
Parham scratched his head as if in deep thought and snapped his fingers. “I got some old clothes from a few years back when I was shorter. Do you like Naruno? He was the hottest anime character in junior high.”
Harry had no idea who or what a Naruno was, but right now he would have worn a trash bag. Anastasia bounded up the stairs. “Give me five minutes,” she called down. “I’m quick that way.”
Dibs on the shower—Harry nodded and followed her up.
While he waited outside the shower room for her to finish, Harry wondered about his fellow escapee. She might have resembled a cat, but the way she walked and spoke—in a very feminine way—made him think she was just another girl. Then again, the way she moved, her lightning-fast reflexes, the way she fought—this was no ordinary girl, and he wondered if…
“I’m done.”
Her voice startled him from his reverie. She came out with a towel wrapped around her torso, gave him a shy glance and sniffed the air again. Then she swiveled her head away from him, carefully taking in the details of the house, studying them with the same intensity as she’d done with the photograph on the computer back at FBI headquarters. Total recall, he thought, she had total recall. It still didn’t answer the question of who’d want someone with a photographic memory. Maybe she was a spy after all.
Jason interrupted his musings by poking his head out of a room down the hallway and waved in their direction. “Over here. This is my room. I found my sister’s stuff.” He quickly got out of harm’s way and went downstairs to wait.
Anastasia walked into the room and Harry took the opportunity to step into the bathroom, strip off his clothes and take a shower. The hot water felt good and the soap soon rinsed the stink away. After shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel from an overhead rack, dried himself off, and looked at his eye in the mirror. It was still swollen and discolored, but at least he could see out of it.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, walked out of the shower and found Jason’s room. Wait, Anastasia was still inside, so he knocked on the door, heard her say “what is it?” and then the door opened. Anastasia stood there dressed in a bright yellow blouse and a matching yellow skirt, and he pulled up short when he saw her.
“Oh.” Nothing else came out of his mouth for a moment, as he felt simultaneously turned on by her and also ashamed of his skinny body. He looked like the proverbial ninety-seven pound weakling and knew it. If someone kicked sand in his face, the sand would probably knock him out. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were, uh, here.”
She frowned at him. “How’s this outfit?” she asked in a voice which he took to mean say something uncomplimentary and you get slashed.
Anastasia had some attitude, but he had no intention of saying anything rude. She looked…great.
“Oh, uh, you look fine,” he stammered out and wondered why she had this effect on him. Was it pheromones, or something else? Maybe she liked him, although he didn’t know why. Then Agent Farrell’s warning of be careful around her sounded in his brain. With a savage mental thrust, he told the warning to shut up.
“Thanks,” she said shortly, and her frown switched to a smile. As she ambled out of the room, she patted him on the shoulder and her tail swished lazily behind her. Yeah, maybe she liked him. Her touch…
Never mind. As he got dressed, he looked around and noted the anime posters that covered the entire room. Then there were the toys, dolls, magazines, and paraphernalia denoting a fantasy geek of the most serious nature. The room was wall-to-wall otaku, the Japanese word for nerd. He shook his head. Jason says I’m missing out on this? What am I missing out on?
“Hey, I got food on the table!” his host called up. “Come and get it!”
Harry quickly pulled on a pair of jeans that were a bit too long and sagged in the waist. A tightly cinched belt took care of the latter problem, along with rolled-up pant legs, and then he put on a T-shirt with a picture of an elf character on it—it had to be Naruno, Jason and more of his make-believe world—and went downstairs.
Anastasia sat on a couch in the living room, her legs tucked neatly underneath her body. She held a pastry in each hand and daintily took bites from both. “Food’s ready,” Jason announced as he came in from the kitchen, and he held a tray full of sandwiches and pastries. “I’m not much of a cook, so my folks left these frozen things for me.”
Harry took a sandwich and then remembered his computer. His friend held up his hand. “It’s recharging in the corner,” he said and pointed. “I got everything you need. You need software, modems, USB ports, anything—I got it all.”
Satisfied, Harry sat back and the other teen flicked on the television. “Maybe you guys made the news.”
Sure enough, a reporter, her hair appropriately disheveled and with a serious expression on her face stood outside the Federal Plaza building, breathlessly intoning into a microphone, “…and the attack occurred last night around eleven o’clock. Sixteen men and women were slain in a gruesome fashion. According to sources, they were torn open. The FBI has released a photo of a possible suspect, Harry Alan Goldman, age eighteen. He was allegedly aided in his rampage by an unknown female accomplice…”
Harry’s mug shot flashed on the screen. The reporter went on to add that Harry had been incarcerated for illegally experimenting in transgenic research. The reporter also went on to add—erroneously—that Harry’s father had been investigated for doing the same thing. Anastasia stopped eating and put the snacks down on her plate. The look on her face read disbelief all the way.
“Turn it off,” Harry said. This was nothing more than a smear campaign, not only on him but also on his father. He’d been incarcerated, almost gotten killed, had gotten involved with someone who’d been experimented on and now he was a suspect?
“This is a load of crap!” he exploded, dropping his sandwich, his appetite suddenly gone. “They toss me in jail and then do a number on my father? What kind of garbage is this?”
“They set you up, man,” Jason said, stating the obvious. He chewed a pastry messily, crumbs scattering all over the table. “Your father didn’t really do that, did he?”
Before Harry could answer, Anastasia rapped her claws on the table to get Jason’s attention. “I hate a dirty place. Clean it up.” She suddenly stopped and blinked, as if a memory had surfaced.
Jason didn’t catch the twitch. Perhaps scared by the claws or the insistent tone in which the order came, he scooped all the crumbs up and dumped them on the tray. After gathering up the plates, he took them into the kitchen, returned with a damp washcloth, and wiped the table. Job over for the moment he focused his attention on Harry. “What did you really do?”
Quickly, Harry went through the story of his experiments, his parents’ deaths, his unfortunate incarceration, the FBI using him, and his meeting with Anastasia. Jason nodded at every word and his jaw gradually dropped lower and lower, flakes of frosting still around the edges.
“…and that’s how it all happened,” he finished dully.
Jason let out a low whistle. “Man
, this is just too radical for me to process.” He got up and paced around the room for a few moments, then turned back to ask, “So what are you gonna do?”
When one is a fugitive, what did one do? Harry figured if anyone with a gun saw him, they’d shoot on sight. And what about Anastasia, what would the authorities do with her? He had to get out of here, and fast. But he had little money, didn’t dare go to an ATM machine, and he was more than positive the agents were watching every possible escape route.
His friend’s voice broke through his fog. “Listen, you guys can crash here for a few nights if you want. My parents won’t be back until next week, so it’s chill if you stay.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
Jason nodded. “Hey, mi casa es su casa and all that, like they say. You can use my folks’ room and,” he stopped for a moment to glance at Anastasia, “your friend can have my sister’s room.”
It seemed like the best plan, and they accepted. Jason cleaned up the rooms, ran a vacuum cleaner over the floor, and gathered up their dirty clothes. “I’ll put these in the washer,” he said. Anastasia offered to help him. He waved her off. “No, it’s cool,” he said. “You guys should, uh, relax.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to do. After cleaning up a bit more, the three of them went upstairs. Jason guided them into his sister’s old room, very girly and everything pink except for the lacy white curtains, but Anastasia didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, favoring Harry with a tiny smile. The gesture was not lost on Jason. He shook his head and walked out. Anastasia then smiled once more at Harry, immediately curled up on the bed, and passed out.
He went downstairs. Checking on his computer, he found it had finished recharging. He located an outlet near the dining room table, set his computer down on it and plugged in, and got to work while his friend flicked on the television and settled into playing some zombie shoot-‘em-up, hands busily working the controls.
“You’re gonna work, right?” Jason asked, not looking at him.
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