"Maybe. But whatever."
"Some people came to take his blood. He told them no so they took him. That's why we came here. Didn't you know?"
"Not really," Maya said. "They took my blood too. When you showed up I thought okay, you want my blood that's okay with me too. That's all I thought."
"Well, I really appreciate it, Maya. But those people who came to take your blood, they're not good people. They make you give it whether you want to or not. Anthony said it's not right. What right do they have?"
"I don't know. What right does anybody have?"
"I'm not the same as them, Maya," Savane said. "I'm not going to force you, lock you up, treat you like property, like an animal, like a cow that gets milked."
"I guess you're right," Maya said. "Is that why you're crying too?"
"No, Maya. I'm crying for Gwen, okay? She was my sister and..."
"I don't think you guys treat me like an animal," Maya said.
"I hope not. We like you. Really."
"Thanks, Savane. I like you guys too," Maya said, raising her foot off the bed. "Did you see this thing they put on my ankle?"
"Yeah, I saw it. That's probably so they can keep taking your blood. So they know where you are. I bet they can find you wherever," Savane said.
"That sucks," Maya said. "Maybe Pryce can take it off. He said he'd try."
"Maybe, maybe not. We'll try."
"I'm sorry about Gwen," Maya said. "I didn't know her but I guess she was okay, right?"
"She was okay. She was my sister."
"Do you know anything about where Anthony is? I wonder if he has one of these things," Maya said.
"Before they took him, he said he's going to figure out some way to keep people like us alive without blood. Like me I mean. Not you. Anthony said if he could find a formula to duplicate his blood, like test tube mutant blood, that way those people won't have any power anymore. He's been working on it a lot with his computer but he said he needs real lab equipment."
"Is that why Abel died?" Maya asked.
"What do you mean?"
"If Anthony had come up with this formula or whatever, would Abel still be alive?"
Savane turned her head to look at Maya. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, if there was some formula would Abel be alive?"
Savane laid quiet for a few seconds. "Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
"Why Abel died?"
"I guess because he needed my blood?"
"More than that," Savane said.
"What do you mean?"
"He needed your blood. And you didn't give it to him."
Chapter 15
Pryce broke the glass door leading into the hardware store and stepped inside. He walked along the front of the store until he found the aisle stocked with power tools. He pulled several boxes containing battery-operated tools with various types of blades off the shelves. He cut the boxes open and tested each tool until he found two that might do the job. One was a small one-handed tool with a rotating blade. The other was larger and had a reciprocating blade that Pryce thought would work but might also be too dangerous. He put each one in his bike basket and peddled home, a 90-minute ride.
Maya and Savane were in the kitchen when he arrived. He put both tools onto the center island.
"When you're ready, Maya. We can try these. See if they work," he said.
"How about now?"
"I'll see you by the pool," he told her, picked up the tools and walked out.
About five minutes later, the girls walked out.
"Can you sit down on the ground here? Stretch your leg out?"
"Okay," Maya said and did as he asked.
Pryce pushed a washcloth into the narrow space between the ring and Maya's ankle, and propped her foot onto a pillow. "Don't worry, I'll be careful," he told her. With his left hand he held her foot in place. With his right he turned the smaller tool on. It made a quiet whine and he lowered the rotating blade slowly onto the ring. He felt Maya's foot pulling away but he gently held it in place. When the blade hit the ring the volume increased considerably, a high-pitched whine. He kept her foot still and slowly increased the pressure of the blade on the ring. After about three minutes he stopped.
"This is really not working," he said. "Look."
Maya sat up and looked at the ring. Where Pryce had been cutting, there was a small, almost imperceptible divot.
"I don't know what this thing is made of but this blade is doing nothing. I'm going to try again," he said and pressed down on her foot. Another three minutes of cutting did nothing.
"Nothing. Nothing," he said. "Nothing."
"Do you want to try that other thing," Maya asked.
"Not really. I was hoping I wouldn't have to. I don't want to scare you but I thought it was almost too much, too big."
Savane stepped closer to Maya's foot and leaned over for a closer look. "It'll be okay, Maya. I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you."
"I'll be careful. Promise," Pryce said.
"I'm getting used to this thing. It's really okay to leave it on," Maya said.
"I'll be careful. Really."
"Okay. Try, but be careful."
"Okay. Don't move. Can you hold her foot?" Pryce asked Savane.
"Sure thing. Sure," Savane said and grabbed Maya's foot with both hands.
Pryce picked up the bigger tool with both hands and turned it on. The blade immediately jerked to life, moving in and out so quickly it was just a blur. He lowered it slowly to Maya's ankle. She pulled her foot away and it slipped from Savane's hands. Pryce turned the tool off.
"It's okay, Maya. I've got it. It sounds worse than it is," Pryce lied to her. It was all he could do to control it. Maya put her foot back onto the pillow and Savane held it down. Again, Pryce pushed the on switch up with his thumb and the machine jerked to life. He lowered the blade onto the ring on Maya's ankle. A menacing whine filled the air around the pool and echoed off the house.
Pryce held the blade on the same spot as best he could. After about two minutes, sweat beaded on his forehead. Another minute and he lifted it up and shut it off.
"Damn. Damn! Nothing. Not a damn thing!" He dropped the lifeless reciprocating saw onto the cement and stood up. Savane released Maya's foot.
Maya sat up again and looked at the ring. "Really, Pryce. It's okay. I'm used to this thing. It'll be okay."
"It might have to be. I'm sorry, Maya. It's just...I don't know. Very hard. Very hard."
"It made a little line," Savane said. "But not much more. I guess if you're okay with it, we can try later. Maybe find something else to cut it with."
"Maybe. I'll look later," Pryce said and kicked the big saw. It spun in a circle on the cement and came to rest pointing out to sea.
~ - ~
After several hours, Anthony finished cleaning the lab. It was in good shape when he found it, with no major damage. The lab was in the interior of the building and had no windows. The lab entrance door was a solid slab of hardwood with a very narrow window running horizontally up its length. In short, the lab was effectively sealed off from the outside world.
Next, Anthony inventoried all the equipment he would need to get started. As expected, the flammable gas nozzles didn't even hiss when opened, bone dry, but he planned to use acetylene gas from the canisters he brought instead. He had already located the spark lighter he would need to replace the electric lighter, and just needed to fashion some tubing to connect the acetylene tanks to the burners and lab oven. He also located several tanks of H2O2 to decontaminate the incubators and lots of crystallized growth medium he'd need to break down the proteins currently coursing through his veins.
His plan involved harvesting various macromolecules from his blood cells, extracting the correct proteins, then mutating these slightly through controlled incubation. In his computer he could make this work. Now he needed to do it for real. But operating the incubator would be a show-stopper and Anthony desperately needed to locate a
n electricity generator. And fuel for the thing. Diesel, gas, whatever. Power for the incubator was the one question he could not answer.
As Anthony sat on the tall stool, he absentmindedly reached down with his right hand and scratched the skin under the red ring of metal on his ankle. Yesterday, he tried filing the ring but couldn't make a mark. Not even a scratch. He had given up after 30 minutes and didn't bother looking for a cutting tool. No conventional blade was going to cut it off without taking his foot with it. As he scratched, he conjured in his mind different ways to cut metal. Rotating blade. Reciprocating blade. Torch. File. Chisel.
Torch? A torch might work he thought, but he would need...He would need exactly what he brought with him. Acetylene gas. He dropped from the stool and practically ran to his bike, grabbed a can of the gas, and ran back inside. He grabbed a cutting nozzle and the spark lighter from the lab storeroom, sat down on a stool, propped his foot onto a second stool, and set to work. The blue-white flame leaped to life and he expertly set the flame tip onto the ring. At first, he felt no change in temperature on his ankle. Slowly, though, the ring grew hotter and hotter. After about 10 minutes he had to stop and let the metal cool. His gray skin was almost smoking. He extinguished the flame, then went back into the storeroom where he found some inflammable insulating tape. He managed to push some between the ring and his skin, re-lit the flame, and continued on the same spot. Another 15 minutes passed and he could almost feel the tank getting lighter as the gas was slowly consumed. Still nothing except an almost intolerable heat on his ankle. Once again he extinguished the flame but the insulating tape was not letting the heat dissipate. He tried pulling it out with his fingers but it was too hot to touch. It felt as if it was getting hotter, somehow sucking heat from the air and blasting it directly onto his ankle. The pain became intolerable and for the first time since starting, Anthony was afraid. He tried again to pull the tape out with his fingers but couldn't. He looked desperately on the table tops, pushing his neatly arranged equipment out of the way in a vain search for pliers, tweezers, anything. Still nothing. He grabbed a gallon jug of water and, with trembling fingers, twisted the cap off, tipped the jug upside down and poured the cool water onto his ankle when, CRACK!
The ring shattered. Anthony reflexively closed his eyes and jerked his head back. He dropped the jug onto the floor and, after a few seconds, felt his face for shrapnel wounds. Nothing but sweat and water. Slowly he opened his eyes. Scattered all over the floor, in hundreds of small red pieces, was the ring. Embedded in one of the pieces, although Anthony didn't notice it, was the GPS tracker tag. He let out a stream of air from his pursed lips. Wow, he thought. That did NOT turn out how he planned. The acetylene worked, though, and the despicable reminder of Mutant/Resource Communal Control was off his ankle. More than off his ankle. Obliterated. That gas he brought came in handy he thought with a smile and nearly burst out laughing. If only it could also...do what? Cool as much as it heats? That makes no sense, he thought, but he sat back down on the bench, mind racing. When he was interviewing at different labs, before the world blew up, another lab's manager told him they use a natural gas-fueled cooling incubator. "What's more, we keep our own supply of natural gas. In tanks out back," the manager told him. Not very practical, Anthony replied at the time. Maybe, maybe not, the manager had responded. Now, several years and a lifetime later, the questions were different and so were the answers. Using natural gas to power the incubator was a stroke of genius and Anthony, at that moment, began planning to move to the other lab, about a six-hour bike ride south of the river in which Savane used to catch so many salmon. Used to catch before she died, he thought, and his bitterness returned.
Chapter 16
The following day, after Gabe finished brushing his horse but before he began his report, he walked down to the Scout/Security Work Unit to speak to the director. The hallway to the director's office was unusually long and sterile, all white with a white floor and white walls. The monotony was broken only by an occasional announcement board mounted on the wall but even those were painted white. As he looked down the hall, Gabe imagined the ceiling merging with the floor at infinity.
When he reached the office, the door was open. Gabe stood in the doorway and held the door frame with his right hand. He leaned into the room but continued to hold on, as though he were trying to prevent himself from being sucked in. "Hey Jay," Gabe said to the director, who looked up from his desk. The director's expression didn't change. His pen remained poised over the paper he had been writing on. "What's going on?" Gabe asked.
No reply.
"Okay, so I've got to ride back out to the coast tomorrow for Shuh and Chevault," Gabe said, hoping his name dropping wasn't too obvious to the man staring back at him. "And I might need two of your guys. Might. We're not bringing the subject in but he's coded COOP yellow and I'd like to make sure, you know, nothing happens. Two of your men would help, I think."
"Two men?" the director finally spoke.
"Two men," Gabe said in reply.
"I'll send them down this afternoon. Where are you going to be?"
"In my office. Writing a report. On the subject we're going after, so your guys might want to read it."
"Yes, maybe they will. Is that all?"
"Yupper, that is all," Gabe said, subtly mocking the director's syntax. "That. Is. All," he repeated as he pulled himself up and out of the director's office. Once again standing upright, he turned and began the long trek back down the hall.
~ - ~
As Gabe sat at his desk two men, each over 6 feet tall with wide chests and biceps that strained their sleeves, entered.
"Are you the guys going with me tomorrow?" he asked.
"That's what we're told," one answered.
"Did your boss tell you about the horses? I mean, I travel by horse. Can you ride?"
The two looked at each other as if to ask, "Ride horses?"
"Stay put. Let me finish this report and I'll give you a quick lesson. It's an all-day ride and we leave tomorrow morning, crack of dawn. Names?"
"Serge," said the first man.
"I'm Pancho. Pancho Guillermo," said the second.
"Can you ride a horse?"
"A little. But not much. I know Serge here wouldn't know which end goes forward. You better give us a lesson."
An hour later, Gabe finished his report. He, Serge, and Pancho walked out to the auto maintenance garage that had been converted to a horse stall and for the next two hours, Gabe walked them through the basics. Why the CCC director sent him these two guys who couldn't ride, Gabe could only guess. Probably because of their obvious physical attributes, he thought. The two of them could clearly overpower anyone. Since becoming a scout two years ago, he had learned not to be picky when he needed security backup and the fact these guys were well suited to provide physical security was more important than their abilities in a saddle.
As the sun dropped below the roofs, Gabe called it a day and made arrangements to meet the men the following morning.
~ - ~
"We're taking the county roads. No highways. Takes a little longer but I know a way with good water for the horses," Gabe said as they set out early the following morning. The sun had traversed the backside of the earth, as they knew it would without question, and they walked their horses steadily down the city streets as the sun rose in the east. Gabe led the way and, with great effort, managed to trot slowly enough so the others could keep up.
Gabe had given Pancho the GPS tracker as well as the codes for the GPS device on the lab roof and Anthony's ankle ring. Methodically they trotted toward the signals. Gabe periodically pulled his horse to a stop and asked Pancho to check the location of Anthony's ankle ring.
"No change," was the consistent reply.
At about four o'clock, Sandra called.
"Scout 459, this is Scout Operations Desk Work Unit. Sandra. How do you copy? Over." Director Shuh stood next to her so she was careful to use proper radio protocol.
"Sweet new radios, Sandra. You are very clear. What's up?"
"Director Shuh is with me. Wants to speak to you. Over."
"Okay, Sandra. Put him on. Over."
After a few seconds, Shuh said, "Gabe? How are the two men with you?"
"They're hanging in there. These guys are slowing me down a little, though. We could use a training program."
"We'll talk about that," Shuh said. "Has the target moved?"
Gabe glanced at Pancho, who shook his head.
"No," Gabe said. "No movement. Over."
"Are you getting there tonight?" Shuh asked.
"Doubt it. Tomorrow morning, though. Over."
"You said you could get there in one day," Shuh said.
"I can. As in, I can alone. But not with these guys. Did I mention we could use a rider training program?"
"I said we'll talk about that. Where are you now?" Shuh asked.
Gabe glanced at Serge, who said, "38.962 74.849. Hold on a second." He glanced at his map and his GPS, then said, "Make that 38.963 74.849. Around 42 miles from the target."
Gabe keyed the radio and relayed their location to Shuh. He then said, "We're not getting there tonight. No way."
"Check in with me when you leave tomorrow morning then. At first light or earlier. I want this Anthony Barringer brought in, regulation or no regulation. You got it?"
"I got it," Gabe said. We grab him tomorrow morning, bring him in. No problem. These guys can't ride but I suspect they can handle this guy."
"I bet they can. Check in tomorrow morning before leaving."
Sandra came back on the radio. "Anything else? Over."
"Nothing else, Desk. Thanks and have a good evening, Sandra. Gabriel Sparrow, Scout 459, Out."
"Will do. Desk out," Sandra said and the radio went silent.
~ - ~
The three men spent the night in a two-story, four-bedroom house with a barn in the back.
"Scout Operations Desk Work Unit, this is Scout 459. Good morning. Anyone there? Over."
Shuh answered within a minute.
"Director Shuh, I didn't expect you to be manning the desk. Over" Gabe said.
Mutant Blood Page 6