by Kelly Goode
Not accepted.
NO FEAR. NO MERCY
He tried the team mantra, but when that wasn’t accepted either, he pulled Melman’s chair out and sat down. He needed to think. What else did Melman care about? It wasn’t long before the seed of an idea took hold. Maybe it wasn’t what the chief cared about, but rather who he cared about. Blake’s stomach tightened, as he realised the chief might use the same password as he did.
C-A-R-S-O-N
He pressed each key slowly and then hit the enter button. The screen flashed its acceptance and moved onto the home page. Blake sat back in disbelief.
Chief Melman was in love with Carson.
He felt his anger burn like a flame, as a low growl built from his stomach to his throat. Carson belonged to him. He could tell from their kisses that they were destined to be together and he wasn’t going to let another male covet what he’d claimed. He tried to rationalise that Carson would kick his arse if she ever heard him refer to her as his, but that didn’t change the way he felt.
The laptop beeped for an incoming email, momentarily distracting Blake from his festering resentment towards his boss. He clicked the icon and scrolled through the text. It was from a contact within the cold case team and he inhaled sharply as he realised the victim profile belonged to Carson’s mother. Blake didn’t have time to read the attached report, so he pressed the button to forward the email to his own address. He searched the rest of Melman’s emails for any information relating to a secret list and then within the digital folders on his desktop but found nothing. He needed something to placate Jonah with, so switched the laptop off and searched Melman’s filing cabinet.
The chief was an old-fashioned guy, so maybe he kept things in hard copy rather than online. Blake carefully slid open the drawer and flicked through the cardboard separators. Each one had an agents’ name carefully written on the top. His fingers lingered over Carson’s name. The file could contain the sought-after information on her heritage and recruitment to the unit. Blake pulled out the cardboard folder and opened it carefully. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was betraying her trust by reading the classified information, but the overwhelming urge to know more about the woman he’d fallen in love with made it easy to justify his actions.
Blake opened the file and laughed softly as he found it empty. His luck was obviously elsewhere tonight and he replaced it in the correct spot. He checked his own file, which at first glance seemed to be empty too from the size. He opened the folder and found a few sheets of paper. Most were physical evaluations in which his instructor had commended him on his strength and pace, but one was a DNA report. Doctor Malone’s familiar scrawl accompanied the print out and although most of the writing was illegible, one phrase stood out.
Unidentified DNA source.
Blake had already hacked the database and replaced his DNA with human markers, but Malone had kept a different sample. Did the chief already know about his true nature?
‘Shit!’
Before Blake could process that revelation, footsteps outside the office caused him to stiffen. No, not footsteps, as the noise was far too light, this was more like a dragging sound.
‘Shit,’ he repeated.
He should’ve heard the alien the minute it entered the building, but just like at Malone’s place, he’d messed up. Blake slid the filing cabinet shut, wincing at the metallic moan as it moved on its sliders. Now the alien knew someone was in here too. He removed his gun from his belt, as the door handle slowly twisted.
38
‘I need this area cleared before the cross-contamination gets any worse. I can’t believe no one secured the perimeter before we arrived.’
Carson was dismissed from the basement by Lydia with a wave of her hand and a sneer, as if it was all her fault. Not that she minded. She was grateful to leave the stench of dead alien behind.
‘Want me to look at any injuries?’ Adam asked, as they met at the top of the narrow staircase. He was wearing his white coveralls, but the top half was rolled down to his waist. He had clear muscle definition beneath his green T-shirt and she once again wondered why he was working forensics instead of out in the field.
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘No, but I have my Boy Scout medical patch. Good enough?’
Carson smiled wryly as she lifted the hem of her top. Adam examined the cuts the jaktten had made in her flesh and she winced when he touched a particularly tender area.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s ok. I’m made of steel really.’
Adam rummaged inside his kit bag and produced an antiseptic wipe.
‘This is going to sting, but I need to check how deep those cuts are. What happened?’
Carson winced again when Adam dabbed the wipe against her stomach.
‘Alien knocked me to the floor and climbed on top of me.’
‘Lucky alien.’
‘Blake shot it.’
‘Not so lucky.’
He efficiently cleaned the wounds and then covered them with a large plaster.
‘Thanks, Adam,’ she said, and he smiled at her with boyish enthusiasm. ‘I owe you one.’
‘I’ll accept a coffee brought down to the laboratory tomorrow. I still want to talk to you about those DNA results.’
‘Go on.’
‘It’s strange. I completed the test again on the swabs I took from the warehouse and the same result came back. Human and alien cells, but not desquamater or scouter DNA. I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘ADAM – WILL YOU HURRY UP.’
Lydia’s voice travelled up the stairwell and he deliberately rolled his eyes.
‘I better get going before she starts breathing fire like the dragon she is,’ he said. ‘You won’t need stitches, but promise you’ll go and see Doctor Peters for a course of antibiotics if you notice any sign of infection.’
‘Will do.’
Adam winked as he slung his kit bag over his shoulder.
‘See you tomorrow for that coffee, Carson. I’ll show you what I mean about the DNA.’
He walked down the stairs, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She rested her forehead against the cold wall and inhaled deeply. She wished she could bury her face into the soft cotton of Blake’s t-shirt and pretend none of this was happening, but she’d lost it during the confrontation.
‘Towers?’
Carson heard Tom’s strident voice as he entered the room, but from the number of boots hitting the tiled floor, she realised he wasn’t alone so she immediately straightened her spine and turned to face him.
‘Yes, sir?’
Tom’s eyes conveyed all the emotions he couldn’t express in front of the team – anger concern, guilt. She lowered her gaze to the floor knowing that his tone would be the complete opposite.
‘What the hell happened here? This place looks like a shit-hole.’
‘Malone’s home was already trashed like this when Blake and I arrived,’ she explained.
‘Did you find out where he went?’
‘No, sir.’
Tom indicated with a single nod of his head that Sheridan and Finch should go check outside. The men understood his silent order and nodded back.
‘Where’s Blake?’ Sheridan asked, as he walked past with a smirk that made her hands itch to knock it from his face.
‘I don’t know. I’m not his keeper,’ she snapped. ‘He took off after he killed that poor alien.’
‘Oh, so they’re poor aliens now, are they? Just whose side are you on?’
‘Fuck off, Matt.’
‘Gladly. The stench of bullshit is too much to stomach around you.’
If Tom hadn’t been in the room, Carson would’ve hit him. She had trouble controlling her anger and Matt Sheridan was one of those men that seemed to enjoy goading her. She bit her lip until he’d left the kitchen with Finch.
‘Where is Blake?’
Tom repeated Sheridan’s question and she gave the same answer.
‘I don’t know. He was really angry at being forced to kill the alien, but he didn’t have a choice.’
‘Was it a close call?’
Carson nodded, remembering the feel of the jaktten’s mouth around her throat. She inclined her neck to one side and showed Tom the bruised skin by her jugular.
‘The closest,’ she whispered. ‘He saved my life.’
Tom lifted his hands as if he wanted to embrace her, but at the last second he patted her on the shoulder.
‘Sounds like I owe him one.’
The sound of someone walking up the stairs from the basement stopped her from replying. Lydia stepped into the kitchen and eyed Carson with disdain, which might have been intimidating were she not wearing the white all in one coverall that made her look like an overgrown baby in a romper suit.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Chief Melman,’ she said, deliberately ignoring Carson.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.
‘On the contrary, I’ve discovered something of interest.’
‘What?’
Lydia flicked a look in Carson’s direction, as if telling her to leave, which was laughable. She wasn’t about to be run out of a room by anyone. Carson folded her arms across her chest and stood up straighter, waiting to see if the other woman had the guts to challenge her aloud.
‘Carson is authorised to hear whatever you have to say,’ Tom finally said, spoiling her fun. ‘I have no secrets within my team.’
Lydia looked as if she wanted to argue but instead she turned on her heels and descended to the basement. Tom indicated Carson should follow, which she wasn’t thrilled about as after taking only a few steps down, the stench once again hit her with the force of a baseball bat.
‘Over here,’ Lydia said, and she stepped aside so Carson and Tom could see what she was staring at on the floor.
‘Looks like a rag,’ Tom said. ‘What’s the significance?’
Carson froze – it was Blake’s T-shirt. The one she’d lost when the alien pounced. She was about to tell them that when Lydia spoke again.
‘Adam, kill the light,’ she ordered, and he did as requested, plunging the basement into darkness, which made Carson’s breath hitch in her throat, as visions of more jaktten attacking caused her heartbeat to soar. Sweat prickled against her upper lip and she swiped it away. Someone clicked a switch and a single beam of ultra-violet light cut through the gloom.
‘I’m going to spray the material and you’ll see a positive reaction to any trace evidence.’
As predicted, Blake’s t-shirt glowed in places where she’d squirted the chemical.
‘Hit the lights,’ Tom ordered, and Adam once again did as requested. ‘As much as I enjoy a practical demonstration, Lydia, I don’t have time to waste. Give me the facts.’
Lydia scowled at first, but then rearranged her face into an amenable smile.
‘The trace evidence on that material is not human and it doesn’t belong in this basement.’
‘Is it from a desquamater?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘It’s from another alien source.’
‘What alien?’
‘I don’t know.’
The communicator in Tom’s watch beeped loudly and he looked down at his wrist and frowned.
‘Excuse me, I need to answer this.’
His dark moustache arched downward at whatever message he could see on the communication screen. Tom looked up and met Carson’s inquisitive stare with a look of alarm.
‘We need to go,’ he said, just as her communicator beeped, closely followed by Adam’s and Lydia’s. Several more beeps could be heard upstairs, most probably belonging to Finch and Sheridan.
‘Is it a system glitch?’ Adam asked, shaking his communicator and pressing any buttons in order to stop the persistent noise.
‘No,’ Carson replied, hardly believing what she was about to say. ‘That alarm means HQ has been compromised.’
39
Blake took two steps backwards and flattened himself against the wall just as the communicator on his wrist started beeping. There was nowhere to hide, so his plan was to wait for the door to open and charge. He didn’t want to fire his weapon, as the ballistic evidence would lead back to him, so he reluctantly holstered his gun again and breathed deeply in order to settle the thumping of his heart. Fear had his guts wound tight, but there something else pumping through his body too. Adrenaline had him on the balls of his feet, preparing for the fight. The fact he welcomed the confrontation should’ve worried him, but his inner-beast was taking control again.
Blake braced himself, as the door handle turned and the door swung inwards. He expected a rush of movement to follow but the intruder moved tentatively, sniffing the air before each step, shuffling forward only when he was sure it was safe. Blake stepped out of the shadows. It wasn’t a desquamater he faced, but something equally deadly. The boy had been young, a teenager at the most, as his face was covered in purple acne scars, well the half that remained. The rest was covered with tufts of thick, black hair. His mouth and nose whilst perfectly human on the left side merged with a gaping hole on the right, where a large, pink tongue lolled across sharp incisors.
This human had been bitten by a jaktten.
That knowledge felt like a kick to his chest and all the air seemed to leave his lungs at once. From the manic expression in the boy’s eyes, he wasn’t handling the change well. No human had ever survived a jaktten bite, which was why the sight was all the more disturbing.
The boy inched a few steps closer on furry hind legs that seemed too small to carry his human torso. His bare chest was covered in bite marks and large chunks of flesh were missing. His arms were twisted and his hands were claw-shaped but without any nails.
Blake felt a moment’s pity for the boy as he howled in confusion. He wasn’t sure what Blake was, didn’t know whether to attack or submit, so Blake stood up straighter and made himself as large and imposing as possible. The boy cowered and conceded to the threat.
‘I don’t want to hurt you. I know you’re confused, but I need to know who did this to you. Who bit you?’
The boy inclined his head, as if trying to recall what had happened to him. Blake saw the moment he remembered his last breath as a human, as his mutated face twisted into a scowl and his eyes flashed with hate.
‘Tell me who did this,’ Blake repeated firmly, but the boy just growled in reply and launched himself across the room.
Blake only had a second to react. He side-stepped the haze of fur and snapping teeth, and landed a lethal blow to the boy’s neck, who screamed an all too human cry before falling to the floor. His lifeless eyes seemed fixed at a spot on the ceiling and the fact this was the second life Blake had taken today, weighed heavily on his conscience.
‘That was a bit of an unfair fight, don’t you think?’
Blake spun around to find another man filling the doorway. He was solidly built under his tailored pinstripe suit that gave him the look of a lawyer or stockbroker. His dark eyes held that cold, predator stare, like a shark circling his prey. He had equally dark hair, cut short to his scalp. A predator hidden within human skin - a desquamater.
‘How did you get in here?’
‘That’s not important. Is the kid dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Impressive.’
‘Not really. As you said, it wasn’t really a fair fight.’
‘But you didn’t use a gun. No rope or tranquiliser to subdue him. You killed him with a single strike, mercifully some might say. Not something the ISCU is known for.’
Blake looked down at the mutated form on the floor.
‘You make it sound like a test.’
‘Yes, I suppose it was but not one intended for you. I came for the girl.’
Blake clenched his fists and readied his stance to attack.
‘Leave her alone,’ he growled.
‘She killed Malcolm Plummer and in doing so, dismantled months of careful planning.’
; ‘Good. Alien-scum like you will never win.’
The desquamater laughed. ‘From one alien-scum to another, neither will you. I recognise you for what you are – what you truly are - and you should know that our kind will not rest until we have eliminated every single jaktten from this planet. We followed you through the solar systems and are ready to fight to the death.’
‘That fight has nothing to do with Carson.’
‘On the contrary, she is the key to implementing the final invasion. I will get to her - one way or another.’
Blake felt his skin stretch and his hands elongate into claws.
‘You’ll have to come through me first.’
‘Oh, I intend to, but not tonight. Tonight, you need to dispose of this body before your chief realises the true company he keeps.’
The desquamater slowly backed out of the office.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s another body downstairs that needs taking care of too. I’d start working on my alibi now, as you already know that I triggered the alarms on my way into the building.’
‘I can’t let you leave,’ Blake said, but the communicator on his wrist told him he didn’t have long before the entire unit descended on HQ because of the security breach.
‘You don’t really have a choice, unless you’re sure that the chief will believe your account of why you’re inside his office. Tick-tock, tick-tock, the countdown has begun.’
The desquamater turned and ran. Blake considered pursuing him, but he couldn’t afford to be caught in the act of trespassing.
‘God damn it,’ he cursed, as he crossed the room and opened the solitary window, which was his only escape route. It was four flights down, but he could make the jump. He picked up the boy’s mutated body and arranged it over his shoulder.
‘God damn it,’ he repeated, as he realised he couldn’t take the body with him. Chief Melman needed confirmation of a break-in and if Blake cleaned up, it would point towards an inside job, rather than the desquamaters.
Blake looked out of the window one last time to ensure there was no one to witness his escape. When he was confident the roads were deserted, he dropped the body and launched himself into the air with a frustrated growl.