by Angel Wedge
She nodded, and crouched beside me to lick away the blood. Allowing her so close, being able to trust her and knowing that it must mean something, that was such a powerful communication. I still didn’t have all the facts straight in my mind and maybe we couldn’t even talk to each other, but every time we did it, it felt as if this was communication that went beyond words. I whispered a few words then, but I don’t know if she caught them. We could talk more once the blood stopped flowing, it wouldn’t take long for such a shallow scratch. But I knew that if she wasn’t who I’d thought, I’d have to at least try to find the truth before introducing her to Marcos and Montigue.
* * *
Doctors Barishkov and Corliss were arguing in the hallway. Corliss was a hard man to anger, but it seemed that once something earned his ire, he wouldn’t back down.
“You can’t do this!” he yelled, dramatically gesturing towards the operating theatre, “Doctor Faulkner said no, and it has to be his choice. Lucretia, too, she wouldn’t sacrifice her friend to save herself. That child has the heart of an angel. Why are you preparing the OR?”
“This isn’t a mission to save one girl,” Barishkov wasn’t yelling, but his voice had an edge like a knife, “We are advancing science in order to give something to the whole human race. We cannot abandon this experiment when we are so close to a positive result. If you try to stop me, I will knock you down myself.” Corliss took a step back, realising that the Baltic doctor had just as much fury as himself, but was keeping it under closer control.
Normally he would have expected the night-black tribesmen to step in to defend him; there were two dozen of them among the facility’s security staff. But when it came to Lucretia’s surgery, he didn’t want to get them involved. There was already something of a schism among those who had come to Lucretia Falls. An albino child, the tribes were forced to consider the possibility that she was maitaha, that she had been touched by the three gods. But one faction, led by the rebellious youth Uvi, was saying that if she was the Goddess come to guide them they should do everything they could to keep her alive, even as far as supporting Barishkov’s increasingly aggressive attempts to take charge of the facility. It frustrated Corliss more than anything, because he was pretty sure Uvi didn’t even believe the ancient teachings he was using to push his agenda.
“Go on then,” Corliss stood his ground, hoping he could look more confident than he felt. “Whatever you think, Dr Faulkner is in charge here. Strike another scientist and you’ll be going straight back where you came from. Don’t you have an arrest warrant out over there?”
Barishkov opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by Faulkner himself stepping out of the elevator.
“That’s enough,” he said, “The law isn’t always the best arbitrator of scientific morals, I’m sure, and I trust every one of the senior staff here. But Igor, I think you are overstepping the bounds. I spoke to Lucretia yesterday morning, and she has made her own decision. Neither you nor I have the right to overrule that, and I would hope that you would not even consider a procedure that would kill an innocent child in any case.”
“Sacrificing one life to save another,” Barishkov retorted, but he still moderated his tone somewhat when speaking to the leader, “Sacrificing an experimental specimen to save your daughter, surely you can see that isn’t an equivalent exchange. Science was meant for those who would play God. We change the world to make it better, and I would happily sacrifice that monster for Lucretia. Can’t you see that we all want the same thing? You’re hesitating when you urgently need to act, it isn’t too late yet, as soon as…” but he trailed off as he saw the old man shaking his head, and finally noticed the tears.
It was too late to change the world now, but Conrad Faulkner could at least assure that his daughter’s wishes would be followed. He would just have to record this conversation for posterity, and hope that Igor Barishkov’s rebellious streak settled down a little once there was no longer such a critical decision to be made.
Chapter 26 — Going Home
The unfamiliar characters were carved into the soft flesh of a sapling, a tree young enough that her claws could make a mark.
“Lùqí,” I read carefully, and she nodded. A nod and a smile, though it still felt a little strange to see a smile with those dainty little fangs. “Lucy, but not… that other name.” Again, the nod. I think I was finally starting to unravel the tangle of parallel stories that had formed in my head. It helped that as well as the official bag of rations they’d given me, I had managed to scrounge from the soldiers an old fashioned reporter’s notebook and a battered Chinese/Dutch dictionary. I’d imagined that Lucy and Lucretia were the same, but after a half hour of careful questions I started to realise they were more like opposite sides of a coin. They were both Lucretia, one named after the other. But whether it was Faulkner’s shock at the way the experiments had turned out, or not wanting to be associated so closely with the other girl, she’d developed some level of hatred towards that name. Lùqíchā – Lucretia – had dubbed herself Lucy Chǎ instead.
We talked more as we headed around to the west side of Sante Benedicté. It was quite a long walk because we didn’t want to be seen by the natives, of either group. We found a small clear space under the shade of a giant tree to change our clothes. I had two matching outfits in my bag: loose dung-brown cotton, gathered around the wrists and neck, with a large hood that would keep the sun off your face. I just hoped that dressed like that, none of the reporters roaming the city outside their military cordon would recognise us as anything other than yet more impoverished locals. I realised that Lucy had a tail, too. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before, but it was quite effectively hidden by her hide skirt, and now it disappeared just as completely under the robes.
As we stood in the cover of the trees opposite the Sante Benedicté airport, I realised that this ordeal was finally over. We could follow a relatively clear track from here to the outer part of the mansion, and then there’d be a last hectic run through the airport with two of the men Paul had chosen for us, and we’d be home and dry. I was looking forward to having Lucy move in with me, and I don’t think either of us had considered any other option once we got back to the States. Maybe we’d have to get a bigger apartment, I didn’t know, or we could take over Uncle Bryan’s old farmhouse. I was pretty sure my brothers didn’t even realise that place was still in the family, they’d not talked to Bryan much since he checked into Sheltered Pines. My dreams of the future were nebulous, consisting of whatever chance might throw at us, but there was no sense worrying about things we couldn’t change.
What I was looking forward to most right then was nothing more demanding than six months not being threatened by men with automatic rifles, or insane tribesmen with clubs and knives. I’d submit a report to my editor from the plane. I could omit the more sensitive stuff about Lucy and it’d still make a hell of a splash. I might even get a Pulitzer. Then I’d take Lucy out to Uncle Bryan’s place, and we wouldn’t need to see anybody from one day to the next. If we continued to grow closer without danger to force us together, then maybe we could start a family. But could we even have children? I knew she was a person, but wasn’t sure if she was that human. Well, we could always raise a couple of kittens instead.
It was a crazy thought, I knew, but it kept on going round and round in my head and I couldn’t help hoping she’d say yes. I hadn’t even asked if she’d want to stay with me, I never even imagined she might say no. We’d only known each other for a handful of days, if you didn’t count the time I’d been delirious from fever or unconscious. But at the times I was most alone, she hadn’t left my side, she’d cared for me when there was no reason for her to help. One thing I’d marvelled at on so many dangerous jobs was how tightly people cling to each other after they’ve been through a crisis together, and now I’d walked a mile in their shoes I could understand why.
I had some regrets as we walked around to the northwest corner
of the fenced-in compound that had enclosed the city. Those creatures didn’t deserve to be treated the way they were, and my report would no doubt throw oil on the flames here, allowing all the little wars to flare up again and burn hotter and longer. I didn’t want to see any more tribesmen lose their lives or native traders lose their homes, over the hubris of men who thought they owned the land and the people. But people would always be people, there was nothing I could do about that. I would expose the truth, about the experiments and about this selfish bloody war, and let the people of the world decide what they could do to change the future. Nature doesn’t care what one person wants, but maybe if the truth is out there humanity as a whole can make some difference.
That’s just the way things are. I don’t let things bother me when the issues are too big for one person to address. I tell stories, I don’t star in them. So why did it hurt so much to walk on, when Lucy stopped and whispered after me in barely passable English: “Wait”? I knew that staying around would be pointless, and yet every fibre of my body wanted to turn back and attempt the impossible, just to get away from that pleading stare.
I’m an easygoing guy by nature, I don’t let myself get worked up about things I can’t change. But in her eyes I could see hope, and trust, and I couldn’t bear to let her down. I’d thought this was another story; that I should report it to the people of the world, and let them make up their minds. But in all the times I’d thought or written ‘people of the world’, I hadn’t realised before that I was saying ‘them’ rather than ‘us’. If ‘someone’ could make a difference to the grand scheme of fate, why couldn’t I allow that someone to be me? When I thought everybody needed to know so that they could make a difference, I’d been setting myself aside in a different category. What if I’d been wrong all these years? What if her trust in me wasn’t misplaced, and one man could make a difference? I’d made a difference to her fate, after all.
“Okay, you win,” I sighed at last, “So, how do we get to the lab? Think we’ll be able to get a Jeep?”
In the end, it wasn’t as tough as I might have thought. We simply waited until the time I’d agreed with the militia to return to the city, hoping everything would go smoothly.
Inside the fence was just the giant house, serving a need that had never really been there. In the yard of what was now the museum, Marcos and his companion sat. He recognised us immediately as we approached, despite the nondescript robes. Maybe because he knew what I’d be wearing, and he was expecting a man and a child. Or maybe her gait was unusual, because she was so used to walking on all fours in the jungle. Having been constantly close to her since we’d left the lab, it was hard to think of how she must appear to a stranger.
Marcos gestured and pointed to one of the buildings on our side of the fence, and I just nodded. There would be troops on the roof as well, but they’d been told to look the other way for half an hour. Then both of them went into the building, part of the museum now, through a door with a ‘Somete Biestute / Staff Only’ sign over it. They didn’t expect to be disturbed, which was why they’d left the engine running. Presumably one of them would be holding the door open while the other came as far as the outbuilding on this side, as both doors could only be opened from the town side. They wouldn’t find us waiting to come through, though. I unhooked the brwance from my belt and shifted my grip to hold it in both hands, cutting the chain link fence in a five-foot slash. A second cut, and we could bend out a part of the fence large enough to walk through. Unfortunately, this event was also accompanied by the sound of shrieking alarms all around us.
We ran to the Jeep, Lucy passing me easily despite her shorter legs, and I dived behind the wheel. Two silhouetted figures on top of a tower were moving around in confusion. They should have been told not to notice a couple of militiamen bringing a Jeep and creeping into the building’s basement, but nobody had said anything about unknown people cutting through the fence and taking the Jeep. I could imagine the conversation now, as they tried to figure out if we were the people they were supposed to not see. Marcos would come running as soon as he heard the alarm, I was sure, but if he was already near the outside end of the tunnel, he might hesitate about which way to go. I’d reasoned that we would only need a minute to grab the Jeep and leave. If it was stocked with the equipment you’d expect a militia vehicle to have, we should have everything we needed to cut our way through the jungle, and the rugged construction of the vehicle would get us most of the way back to Lucretia Falls in no time at all.
The engine was still running, and I wasted no time in getting it moving. The vehicle was wider than I’d thought, though, and the gap we’d made in the fence wasn’t big enough. I drove at the fence and was rewarded with a loud clang. The minutemen on the rooftop were aiming weapons now, realising something must be wrong, but they hesitated again when they saw Marcos come out of one of the outbuildings on the other side of the fence and run towards us. They couldn’t shoot at people from their own militia, and they had no way of knowing at this distance whether this was all part of some kind of plan.
A shot rang out behind us, Montigue had come out at the other end of the tunnel I assumed, but as I hit the fence a second time it split enough for the vehicle to scrape through. Marcos had his rifle out, but hesitated when he saw me. We’d worked together before, and maybe he wanted to find out a little more before firing on me. He charged forward instead, leaping onto the Jeep before we were completely clear of the fence. I stamped on the gas and swerved violently, hoping I could shake him free without hurting him too much. I was deviating from the plan, taking matters into my own hands, and that meant the militia would no longer help me. But even if they were the enemy – and I expected nothing less after stealing a car and weapons – I trusted Marcos, and didn’t want him to be a casualty here.
The man was amazingly difficult to leave behind though, and somehow managed to drop into the back of the car. Lucy leapt over the seat in a second to join him there and pinned him against the seat.
“What the hell?” I heard him shout, “Mark, what is this?”
“Change of plans,” I answered, reassured that neither of the two had decided to kill each other just yet. “This is Lucy, she’s one of the experimental subjects from the lab. We’re going to rescue the others. You need to get off, this isn’t the Benedicteans’ fight and you’ve got no reason to get in our way.” I could already see there was little chance of us stopping to leave him behind, though. Gunshots echoed around us, and I drove erratically in the wild hope that one of them wouldn’t get lucky.
“No way,” I could hear the fear in his voice, and I could imagine how he must feel with Lucy’s eyes watching for any sign of movement and her claws at his throat. “No, your brother gave me the task of making sure you come back alive. You want to attack that place, I’m going with you.” His final word on the subject was under his breath, and I think he probably didn’t think I could hear so clearly over the roar of the engine: “Even if you are crazy.”
Lucy hopped back in the front seat, moving with impossible grace even in a moving vehicle. She was as surprised as me that Marcos had joined us, but she was willing to trust my judgement of his character. He, on the other hand, twitched in surprise as she leapt away. Maybe he hadn’t realised she would understand him. As we headed back into the rainforest, we shared what information we had in the hope of coming to trust each other just a little more.
We still didn’t have a complete plan, but our few rough ideas grew into something amazing and daring once Marcos put his own spin on it. It turned out he had a whole wealth of unexpected skills, both in tactics and being able to adapt our clothes to something more useful for the mission. He had some good suggestions, but I could tell he was still worried. As we turned off the dirt track that led to Lucretia Falls, following the rocky edge of a stream through the jungle, he finally asked the question that I think we both wanted a better answer to.
“So… Lucy… Did you start out human, or li
ke a tiger? Or have you always had the best of both worlds?” He’d accepted that she was human a lot quicker than I had, I realised. I wished I’d been able to find such a diplomatic way to phrase that question, but now he’d asked it seemed as good a time as any to try wrapping my head around more of her story.
* * *
Doctor Faulkner could not bring himself to do it. He knew that as he stood by Lucretia’s bedside, clinging tightly to her hand. She was weaker than ever, and connected by dozens of tubes to the machines that were now keeping her alive. Her liver had failed again, her heart had burst and a machine was now pumping blood around her body. Chemical traces showed that her stomach and kidneys would be next to die, if she even lived that long.
He wished he had known sooner. If he had started this research before she was born, he could have created a serum to save her. Changing her features, making her something between human and animal, is a price he would have gladly paid if it would allow his angel to live. They had a cure now for that terrible disease, and he knew for sure that it would have saved his daughter if it had been administered when she was only a few months old. It had worked perfectly on her clones, after all.
There had been ninety of them, all told. They had duplicated his daughter to provide the perfect test subject. He had thought it grotesque, but he had been willing to do whatever it took to save his last treasure. Some had died as a result of gross physical changes, more than even a developing body could handle. Some had proved to be incompatible, not able to survive. Some had lived, but had grown up with the characteristic malformed proteins that indicated the first stages of Keppler-Monroe Degradation Syndrome. But a few survived.
It soon became clear that the treatment was only survivable when the body was growing rapidly in any case, when the clone was still an infant, and so the team’s priorities had changed. They had introduced more modifications, dosing the specimens with growth hormones and further genetic alteration, hoping to create donors whose health organs could be transplanted to Lucretia without the need for toxic anti-rejection drugs. It didn’t matter about their minds, as long as their bodies were grown to match her size in time.