Reunion

by J. S. Frankel

  “No, I sent them to capture her. I imagine your baby has been born as well?”

  He knows. No sense lying about it now. “Not yet, but soon. That’s two lives you tried to take.”

  Surprisingly, Allenby raised his hands in a gesture of surrender—or perhaps it was a stalling tactic. “No, not kill. As I said, capture. Leverage is always a good thing to have on your side, isn’t it?” He gave a brief nod at the computer on the table. “That is why I asked you here. My offer stands—your friend for your knowledge.”

  “Bring him out.”

  A massive finger pointed at the computer. “Tell me first.”

  “No.”

  Harry did not have to do anything, nor was he really in a position to do anything. Out of the corner of his eye, the transgenic horde had formed a semi-circle. They weren’t armed, but they were big, powerfully built, and some of them had horns as well as claws. Getting out of there alive would not be an easy task. “Give me Istvan. That’s the deal.”

  Allenby crossed his massive arms over his chest, breathing heavily. It seemed as though his weight was too much for his lungs and heart to accommodate, but all the same, he remained an imposing and very dangerous presence. “Let me be blunt, Goldman. You found your way in here, but you won’t be getting out again.”

  He snapped his fingers, and the horde rushed to the walls, spreading their hands wide. Some of them sprouted wings and flew up to circle around ten feet overhead. Wings—that was a new one, but on the other hand, monsters cobbled together from insect and animal had already been manufactured.

  Looking up, Harry silently wished the cavalry would arrive and realized his cavalier attitude had probably doomed him. So be it. He intended to take this monster down, and if he went with him, that was what would happen.

  Making a sudden move to his right, Allenby bellowed for his followers to capture the intruder. “Just don’t kill him!”

  Harry evaded the first rush, his claws sprang out, and darting this way and that, he dispatched three of them with slashes to their throats. Two others swooped down from overhead, but he dodged their attempts and they ran into the wall, obliterating their heads. The numbers were slowly diminishing.

  “You’ll have to do better, Allenby,” he said while evading their strikes.

  “I have a hostage,” the monster replied. “You will do what I say or...”

  He never got a chance to complete his sentence as a heavy figure smashed down on his head from above. Pavel, he’d come after all! He rolled off and went after the transgenic horde, bellowing his rage.

  Another voice rang out. “Wait for me!”

  It was Anastasia, and she jumped from the top of the ledge onto Allenby’s back. Spitting her defiance, she raked her claws up and down his torso while Pavel quickly sent the other transgenic foot soldiers to their graves.

  Allenby, though, proved tougher in spite of his deteriorating condition, and he reached around to haul her over his shoulder. Caught in his clutches, she struggled, but in vain. He was too strong. A moment later he backhanded her across the face, sending her spinning. Harry leaped out and managed to catch her before she fell. “You didn’t have to come,” he said.

  “What, and let you have all the fun?”

  “None of you will leave,” Allenby growled as he thundered over. Grabbing Harry around his neck, he started to throttle him. “I’ll cripple you first, but I won’t kill you.”

  Harry felt the man-thing’s power and slashed out, but his blows drew only blood. Spots danced before his eyes, and then oxygen flooded in as the monster had released his hold. Harry fell to the ground, gasping, and saw the reason why. Pavel had joined the fray, morphing into Allenby’s double. It seemed he could transform his structure by simply touching another being.

  “Ah, I could use someone like you,” Allenby said as he traded blows with Pavel.

  “You... will lose,” Pavel gasped and whipped out a right cross that staggered Allenby. Using a practiced boxer’s stance, he maintained his balance and tossed a few more jabs. “You, just like the others... you will lose.”

  He hit him again and again, and the blows began to take effect. The monster fell, and once he did, Pavel jumped on top and began to pound away. Allenby crossed his arms over his face to protect himself, but somehow found the strength to hit back.

  Harry got up and joined in, just as Pavel began to weaken. He fell back, breathing in ragged gasps, and Allenby smashed him across the chamber with one kick. “You’re weak,” he stated. “You’re weak and pathetic!”

  Pavel fell to the hard ground and his body devolved back to its default state. He lay in a huddled heap, his hands twitching. “I think it’s time to leave,” said Anastasia, and her body shuddered.

  “What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

  “It’s time,” she repeated and pointed to her stomach. “I’ll meet you back at the plane.”

  In a flash, she took off and clambered up the wall. Harry ran over and helped Pavel to his feet. Together, they made their way up and ran through the passageway. Allenby’s mocking laugh followed them out. “Run away, you mewling curs. Run away!”

  Rebuke received, Harry had to admit one thing. He’d gotten his ass kicked but good. And something else—he’d come away empty-handed. Istvan still lay in the hands of the enemy.

  Overton was waiting by the car. “Drive,” Anastasia grunted as she got into the back seat.

  Command received, he threw the car into gear and made haste to the airport. Once back at the airplane, Anastasia got on board and promptly went to the rear, where she lay down. Harry slung Pavel into a seat and went over to see how his wife was. “What’s going on?”

  “My water broke.”

  Oh hell... “How long...”

  “Contractions just started, husband. I think we can make it back to New York on time.”

  Overton announced they’d be leaving soon. “Hang on, everyone. This is going to be close!”

  Close didn’t describe the half of it. During the flight, Anastasia’s spasms increased faster than was thought possible, and by the time they reached the airport in New York, night had fallen. The contractions were coming every five minutes. Every sudden shift in the airplane’s motions caused her to groan.

  Overton went forward to talk to the pilot as they began their descent and came back to strap in. “I radioed ahead for an ambulance,” he said once they’d landed and the pilot taxied into a private hangar.

  The group disembarked, with Anastasia leaning heavily on Harry’s shoulder. “Our Lady of Mercy Hospital is ten minutes away.” He threw a look of concern at Anastasia. “Are you going to make it?”

  Her scream of pain made him jump back two feet and she spat out, “What do you think?”

  “I think ambulance better come soon,” Pavel put in.

  “Shut up!”

  Anastasia’s comeback cowed Pavel, at least temporarily, and then he shrugged off her reply, muttering something about women and bad tempers.

  “Ambulance is here,” Overton announced as a red-and-white pulled in, its siren wailing.

  Together, he and Harry helped Anastasia into the back. At first, the attendant shied away when he saw Pavel, but Overton’s face grew tight and he ordered, “Get going. He’s with us.”

  The ambulance took off like a shot. When they reached Our Lady of Mercy, two attendants were on hand with a gurney. They blinked as they saw the transgenic trio, but obviously they’d been briefed on who they’d find, and quickly but gently hustled Anastasia out of the ambulance.

  Harry held onto her hand after she got on the gurney under her own power. “We’ll take care of her,” one of them said. “Dr. Blanchard has been contacted. She’ll be here soon.”

  “See you later, Harry,” Anastasia said as they wheeled her away.

  Overton threw a quick check at the patients, medical staff and relatives that had gathered at the entrance. “We’ve got to get a little privacy,” he said. “Come on.”

  He led the way in,
and as they looked around, a short, chubby man in a suit came over. “My name is Donald Corliss,” he said. “I’m the director of this hospital. Come with me, please.”

  Leading the way, he took them up to the third floor and into a private room. “This is my office,” he said. “We didn’t know about your, er,” he cast a nervous glance at Pavel who had taken up a position near the window, “friend, although we’d heard about you, Mr. Goldman. Although this is most unusual, rest assured, your wife will get the best of care.”

  “Thank you,” said Harry, feeling tired and grateful at the same time.

  A soft buzz sounded from Corliss’ pants pocket. He took out a cellphone and said, “Yes?”

  Nodding his head, he motioned to Harry. “Dr. Blanchard is with your wife now. Come with me, please.”

  Leaving Overton and Pavel behind, Harry went with the hospital director down the stairs to the basement level. “This is for your wife’s privacy,” Corliss said as they made their way downstairs. “We don’t want the press to see the baby. And your friend is—”

  “A demon-dog,” Harry finished for him. “I understand.” Seeing the new and different would definitely make the press’s day, but this was neither the time nor the place.

  Just before reaching the bottom floor, they heard a scream, high-pitched, shrill, and full of agony and release. Corliss got a startled look on his face, but Harry knew what it was. His daughter had just been born. “Let’s hurry,” he said.

  Hastening to the bottom level, once they arrived they were greeted by a nurse. Middle-aged and frumpy, with a large, square body and an expression of severity combined with authority, she stood next to another man in black. “I’m one of Overton’s men,” the man explained.

  “And I’m with this hospital,” the nurse intoned, throwing the agent a look of consternation. “I’m Sister Caroline, the head nurse. Ordinarily I don’t allow anyone who isn’t direct family, but in this case—”

  “In this case,” Corliss interrupted, “this is special. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m this hospital’s director. I have my duties to perform, and so do you.”

  “I certainly do,” she replied stiffly. Turning to Harry, she added, “Your daughter just arrived. We’re taking care of her now. Don’t worry, your wife is fine.”

  Relief as well as a new sense of life flowed through every fiber of Harry’s being. He was now officially a father. Another nurse, this one young, blonde and pretty, stuck her head outside the door and motioned to Harry. “You can come in now,” she said.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Goldman,” Corliss said with a genuine smile. “I’ll go up and inform Agent Overton.”

  After he left, Harry ducked inside, with Sister Caroline going ahead to supervise things. Formerly a storage room, it had been converted to a makeshift but functional private place where mother and child wouldn’t be bothered. Containing a hospital bed and monitor, a television and a fridge, the best thing about it was Anastasia, lying in bed with a pleased if somewhat exhausted expression on her face.

  Off to her right, a team of nurses was taking care of the newest addition to the world’s population. The umbilical cord had already been cut and tied off. Sister Caroline issued the commands, and after taking pictures, weighing and measuring the baby, getting her hand and footprints, they wrapped her in a soft blanket and handed the baby to Anastasia, then left en masse, only Sister Caroline remaining behind.

  Doctor Blanchard stood at the left side of the bed, a look of surprise as well as delight on her face. The Sister’s face, formerly severe in expression, turned positively youthful as she cooed at the baby.

  “Hi Harry,” Anastasia said in a bright tone. “Did you hear me screaming before?”

  “I think most of New York heard it.”

  Sarcasm was so not called for in this situation, but he couldn’t help it. A second later, though, thoughts of snark faded and he got into father mode. “Is that our daughter?”

  “It is.”

  In a few quick steps, he was at the side of the bed, the nurse moving away. Bending over to peer at the little package of humanity, he looked at her face and saw... a baby. Not a kitten. With a head of black hair, a snub nose, and tiny mouth, eyes and ears, she looked like every other newborn he’d ever seen, with one exception. She was beautiful and she was his child. Moving around, stretching her arms and legs, she burbled out sounds and nestled in close to her mother.

  “Say hello to Sara Emily Goldman,” Anastasia said with a touch of pride. “I chose the names. Sara was my mother’s name.”

  Sara happened to be Harry’s mother’s name as well. He couldn’t disagree with it, but, “Why did you choose Emily?”

  “I like it.”

  It seemed to be the best answer for the moment. Doctor Blanchard chimed in with “Your daughter is active and very healthy. Seven pounds, seven ounces, and she’s quite strong. She can turn her head already. Not many newborns can.”

  Offering a smile, she motioned to the nurse. “We’ll be outside, and we’ll have a guard and a nurse on hand for the next few days. Don’t worry, Harry. Things are going to be fine.”

  They left the room, and Harry turned his attention back to his daughter. She’d grown quiet and yawned. A second later, though, she opened her eyes, and they were a startling blue, the color of an azure sky. She flicked her gaze back and forth between Harry and her mother and a slow smile of understanding—perhaps—spread across her wee face.

  “Well, what do you think?” Anastasia asked as she opened the front of her hospital gown. With a careful hand, she guided the baby’s head to her breast, and Sara Emily began to suck. “I think she’s a keeper.”

  Harry pulled up a chair and sat, not thinking of the prior battle or the fact that he’d gotten his rear end handed to him. All he could think about was the tiny miracle of life suckling away as any newborn would. “Welcome to the world,” he whispered.

  Chapter Six: Fatherhood and First Wave

  Motherhood had to be the toughest job around, Harry thought as he watched his wife feed Sara Emily and then change her diaper. The baby was growing fast. It had been five days since her birth, and she was already bigger than a month-old child. Anastasia had taken her mothering seriously, consulting with the nurses on every little detail. In return, they treated the baby like royalty.

  No mention was ever made of the baby’s parentage. It seemed as though the nursing staff truly didn’t care what the baby’s parents looked like. Shock and awe should have been the reaction, but as one of the nurses put it, “A baby is a baby. You’re the parents.”

  Simple and succinct, it summed everything up nicely. However, the details of Sara Emily’s growth made things seem surreal at times. Human or not, rapid growth didn’t seem possible.

  “It’s impossible,” Doctor Blanchard said after examining the baby, who was lying on her back and kicking at the air in a playful manner, giggling all the while. Sara Emily seemed happy enough, while Blanchard’s face wore an incredulous expression. “I’m going to guess her growth spurt will eventually slow down. She seems healthy, though.”

  True to form, little Sara Emily had her own version of babyhood, crying lustily to be fed every three hours, sleeping promptly after uttering a pleasurable as well as a sizable belch, and waking up again after three hours to ask for another drink, and going through the usual diaper changes and crying jags all newborns did.

  Normality, though, did not really apply in her case. The nurses came in every day, the guards changed on an eight-hour basis, and there was no trouble and no word of Allenby. Even the press hadn’t bothered showing up. Apparently they had other topics of interest to explore. For a time, a very short time, Harry wondered if the trouble had truly gone away. Deep down, he knew it never would.

  “The FBI’s imposed a news blackout on the birth of your baby,” Overton informed them on the eve of the fourth day. “The press will find out soon enough, anyway. As for Allenby, we’re still looking for him. After I picked you up at the dr
op-off point, I called the Bureau and they sent out a team to search the mineshaft. Allenby had already gone.”

  A note of disgust entered his voice. “He torched the place. All the agents found were remnants of smashed equipment and ashes. Oh, and a few bones, but what kind of bones, they don’t know.”

  “Transgenics,” Harry muttered.

  “Yeah, we figured as much.”

  Overton sounded disappointed as well, probably due to his failure to find any evidence. “It’s hard to believe that creating his clones and hybrids he hasn’t left a trail, but we’re doing what we can to find him. When Jason and Maze get something or intelligence does, then we’ll know. For now, be the father you want to be.”

  It sounded almost odd coming from him. So far, he’d refused to divulge many private details, but he had mentioned a few. Single by choice, like his predecessor, Farrell, he seemed to live for his work and not much else. The one thing he’d shared with Farrell was a love for video games, anything to do with agents taking down the bad guys, and he played on his cellphone whenever the opportunity arose.

  As well, in spite of his attempts to come off as a hardass, by-the-book type, he’d dropped by with a few gifts for the baby, something Anastasia appreciated.

  “I didn’t realize you were so thoughtful,” she said while carefully examining them. Said gifts consisted of a set of baby clothes, a doll for when she was older, and a pacifier. “And you must have looked so out of place at the shopping mall.”

  Overton’s face flushed an embarrassed red and he muttered something about getting a salesperson to suggest the proper things. “Your time will come,” she said, and placed her hand on his. “Thanks.”

  It was quite the intimate gesture, and Overton responded by bobbing his head shyly and mumbling he’d done his best, and, “Could you excuse me, as I have to get on the job?”