“I’m glad that they saved your life and all, but what’s that?” Gamble demanded, coming closer, drawing even with Zander. “What’s with the sparky stuff?”
“The nanomites had to make . . . additional modifications.”
Gamble shifted from one foot to the other. “Additional modifications? You mean, modifications to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why did they need to make more changes?”
Zander and I ignored Gamble’s question and locked eyes. I wouldn’t have been surprised had Zander’s gaze bored a hole through me, so intense and penetrating was his look.
And angry.
He pinched his lips together so as not to give voice to his anger.
Gamble, however, wasn’t finished asking questions. “The mites haven’t made you invisible again. Have they decided that they don’t need to keep you hidden?”
Wondering the same thing, I focused within. When I received the answer, I shrugged. “It isn’t necessary at this moment. When it is needed, we will hide ourselves.”
There it was. That “we” business. Again.
My friends’ expressions signaled how creepy I sounded.
Gamble was like a dog worrying a bone. He kept prodding me. “What changes, Gemma? Be specific.”
“Too many to list. And I haven’t figured them all out, but . . .”
“But?”
I stood straighter. I had agreed to the alterations. I had accepted the conditions those changes implied—those “deeply fundamental changes at the molecular level.” I had chosen to accommodate the nanocloud, because to not accept their offer meant certain death.
In a strange way, I hadn’t been afraid to die at that point—not that I was looking forward to it, mind you—but the terror that had grabbed hold and shaken me so hard earlier? Well, it was gone. In its place dwelled a whispered promise.
I have placed you in my hand, Gemma. You are safe there. No one can take you from me.
Jesus.
What Jesus had spoken to me in my despair held like an anchor dug deep and cemented in my soul. His assurance, his firm and sure pledge, had driven out the terror of death. I was surprised at the love that had replaced the terror.
His love felt . . . Well, it felt complete.
Perfect.
Oh, yeah: Perfect love casts out fear. Aunt Lu had whispered that line over me as a child when I’d suffered from nightmares and the wounds of rejection. So many things she’d said in years gone by were surfacing, bubbling up and making their way from the deep wells of my memories into my present needs.
Jesus.
I smiled a little to myself. Who’d have thought? I’d done all I could do, run as fast and as far as I could go, put as much distance between him and me as possible—and it hadn’t counted one iota.
Jesus.
I’d bad-mouthed him, derided him, ridiculed him, and pushed him away—and yet, when I was falling, he’d reached out and rescued me. Every method I’d employed to keep him out of my life had not mattered.
At the lowest, the frailest ebb of my tide, he’d saved me.
And I had been afraid of what the nanomites had said they must do, terrified of going through the alterations they had described, appalled at what those changes implied. But at the very moment of decision, that other voice—not the nanomites, but Someone of newer acquaintance—had spoken his reassurance.
Listen to me, little one. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid to take this step. I am with you always, even to the end of this age. My plans and purposes are at work in you.
The wonder of it—of him—was higher and sweeter than I could have imagined.
He has plans and purposes for me? I hadn’t stopped to consider what that meant.
“Gemma?”
I knew Gamble and Zander were waiting for me to answer—from a distance I heard them—but I’d closed them out while I pondered those hours when I’d debated the nanomites’ offer, the assessment they had presented.
We submit that only one tolerable choice exists, Gemma Keyes.
I had consented to their offer so I could live—but not only for my own benefit: I needed to live for Emilio’s sake. Soto had warned me. I will find you—but first I’ll find those you love.
Maybe I wasn’t afraid to die, but Emilio’s life was another consideration altogether.
Then, even with Jesus’ assurances in my heart, I’d further delayed giving the mites permission to proceed. I’d taken time to mourn for what would be lost: Zander.
“Gemma.”
I looked up. “Yes?”
Zander touched my hand. “Where did you go?”
“Just thinking.”
“Why did you say you were sorry a minute ago?”
Zander is a brave man; I knew he preferred to face life head on, with no sugarcoating. Still, a flicker of fear found its way to his question.
Comprehending that our conversation had gone in a personal direction, Gamble cleared his throat and stepped back. He joined Dr. Bickel, and they looked on as silent witnesses to our painful exchange.
“I-I’m sorry because I told you that I loved you, Zander.”
“I told you first, Gemma. And I do. I love you. And I know you return my love. Now that you have given your life to Christ, there’s no reason for us to withhold our love and commitment to each other.”
I lifted my chin, having already cried, grieved, and worked my way through this conversation many times before giving the nanomites the go-ahead. I knew what I had to say. I was prepared.
“No, I’m afraid there is a reason, Zander, and I’m so sorry.”
He stiffened but remained calm. “A reason we can’t be together? What reason? Tell me.”
I nodded. “You know what Dr. Bickel said before, how the nanomites and I were irreversibly joined, that if they died, I would die, too.”
“Yes, but—”
I placed a finger to my lips to gently shush him. “Please. There’s more. You need to understand the choice I made and why.”
Hands on his hips, he glanced away and then back. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“So, the nanomites. They freed all the printed mites, and the nanocloud has grown much larger. You saw them. When I told you that they’d called me to a confab, that they’d asked me to meet them over here, you asked me how they could be over here if they were inside of me. Turns out that their numbers couldn’t all ‘fit’ inside of me. Some of them remained in me to keep me alive, but they . . . that arrangement was only temporary. Could only be temporary.
“You see, the mites require a human host—for lack of a better word—but in order for the nanocloud to function at its optimal capacity, the nanomites must be together. They hate being separated; they need to be together, and they need a human to provide a hospitable environment, but they couldn’t all fit in me.
“At the same time, because they view me as one of their tribes, they could not accept that I would die—anymore than they would consent to the death of another tribe. So, they offered me the only alternative they could: They offered to further mutate my body to accommodate the larger nanocloud.”
He shook his head. “No.”
I sighed softly. Patiently. “Zander, if the mites had left me, I would be dead. At this moment. Dead. Do you get that?”
He flinched a little, but said nothing. I let him ponder the facts. After a few moments, he asked, “Can you explain what they did, Gemma?”
This was the part I dreaded, the place where the ugly truth would be spoken.
“You know how bones grow?”
“Yeah, I think so. Some cells grow new bone; others break down the older bone to be replaced by the new.”
I nodded. “The nanomites needed a means of fusing themselves to areas of my organic physiology. They broke down . . . and destroyed segments of my molecular structure and reassembled it. Added their nanotechnology to it.”
Zander’s fear became apparent. “So . . .”
“So, I can’t have
a regular, normal life, Zander. I can’t have a husband, can’t be a wife . . .” My voice dropped to a whisper he couldn’t hear, “or a mother.”
My words strengthened. “I am part of the nanocloud; I will never be alone, never be separate from them. We are six tribes, one nanocloud.”
Zander was, as I had expected, appalled—and I understood his revulsion. If it hadn’t been for the reassurances I’d heard via that small but powerful voice, if that Someone hadn’t assured me that all would be well, I might have elected death instead.
I stared into his horrified face, and added the kicker. The clincher.
“I’m not really human anymore, Zander.”
Zander shook his head and refused to surrender. “‘Not really human?’ I can’t accept that! And what does that mean, anyway?”
I bent cold, heartless eyes on him, ending all debate. “It means we can’t be together, Zander. Ever.”
~~**~~
Chapter 2
The nanomites broke in, urging me to get moving. I frowned and swept Zander’s questions and concerns to the side. “We need to go. We need to use what time we have to our advantage.”
Gamble again spoke up. “Go where, Gemma?”
“Out of here. To the car, Agent Gamble. It’s vital that we complete our plan: Convey Dr. Bickel to the FBI’s Albuquerque field office where he can reveal himself to the public and force a federal investigation into Cushing’s illegal actions. Getting Dr. Bickel’s story out into the public arena is the only way to keep him safe. It is our primary goal.”
“And you, Gemma,” Zander added, frowning. “Keep you safe, too.”
I flashed him a small, shrewd smile. “My safety is no longer a concern. I should be more than a match now for anything Cushing throws at me.”
Zander and Gamble exchanged wary looks, and Gamble cleared his throat. Changed up the topic.
“I’ve been MIA for going on four days, and my bosses are probably scouring the state for my dead body. I doubt my absence has escaped Cushing’s notice.”
Dr. Bickel turned to Gamble and asked him, “Are you saying the FBI office won’t be a safe haven for me now?”
“I’m saying that getting you there may present more of a challenge, perhaps an insurmountable one. If Cushing has confirmed my connection with Gemma to her own satisfaction, the routes to the field office will be watched and manned—and she will have whispered her lies and threats into the ears of my superiors.”
“Don’t worry; we can get you there.”
The three men stared at me. Gamble chewed the inside of his cheek, recognizing I had more to say. Yeah, well, I had to tell them the truth.
“The nanomites and I are an amalgamation at every level. The best of both me and them. Enhanced and powerful.”
“Enhanced? Powerful?”
“Yes. I’m about as fit as a person can be, physically and mentally, thanks to metabolic acceleration and the training they’ve put me through. I have direct access to the nanocloud’s knowledge, and I have direct access to the nanomites’ abilities.”
“Er, right, but if Cushing is as politically connected as we believe her to be, we won’t get off this base, let alone across town to the FBI office.”
Dr. Bickel spoke. “I agree. I’m rather amazed that she hasn’t had her people inspect this place for us. For all we know, the moment we leave the tunnels, her soldiers may be waiting for us.”
“Don’t be concerned. If we encounter a difficulty, we will handle it.”
Gamble frowned. “We?”
“Yes. The nanocloud. We are stronger now. Quite able to deal with any obstacles Cushing puts in our path.”
The three of them, mouths hanging open, stared at me, but I was growing impatient.
“The game has changed. We go on the offensive now.”
I started toward the back entrance to the cavern, when Zander’s voice stopped me.
“Gemma. Wait a sec?”
I looked over my shoulder. The three men had not moved, so I retraced my steps.
Zander studied me, and I wondered what he saw.
“Gemma, you said, ‘The nanocloud,’ and then you said, ‘We are stronger now.’”
I walked up close to him, where I could watch his eyes as I spoke. Reached out my hand and touched his. His fingers closed around mine and felt so good. So right.
And what did Zander feel? His eyes widened a little.
A warmth, a tingling, living warmth spread from my hand to his.
“What . . . what is that?”
“It’s me, Zander. It’s, well, it’s us. The nanomites and I.”
Dr. Bickel, who had been edging closer as we talked, reached out a hand and touched me. The same warmth spread to him. “My, my. They must be quite formidable now.”
“We are.”
Without another word, I led the way through the tunnels, setting a quick pace, navigating the twists and turns from memory. We emerged from the door in the mountain under a late-morning sun shadowed by dark, scudding clouds.
The others climbed and scrabbled over the rocks and boulders of the outcropping while I scaled the obstacles easily. What a difference! I no longer needed Agent Gamble’s strong back and arms; my body was again healthy and robust.
Instead of hauling me as he had on the way up, Gamble boosted Dr. Bickel and helped him over the more difficult parts until the four of us stood together on the flank of the mountain and faced the trek before us.
The hike to the base perimeter fence, while substantial, sloped downhill—and that was good. I wasn’t concerned about us being out in the open as we descended. I could handle that. I was more concerned about the toll on Zander, Gamble, and Dr. Bickel. They had eaten little during our hiatus in the mountain and were, understandably, hungry and weak.
At the thought of food, my stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I glanced up, studying the sky, taking readings as I did.
“I don’t want you out in this weather for long. The temperature is 40 degrees with winds gusting at between fifteen and twenty miles per hour. That puts the wind chill at around freezing. Let’s move as quickly as we safely can, given the rough terrain. Once we cross the PIDAS, we’ll make better time if we walk on the patrol roads.”
Gamble frowned. “Yeah, and what about those patrols? We kept to the gullies coming up. To avoid being seen.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll hide you. Just stay close to me.” I was already moving downhill.
They obediently trailed behind me, and I slowed my pace so they could keep up. No one spoke, but I imagined them talking to each other with their eyes, expressing their questions and worry.
When we reached the PIDAS, I went straight at the cut links and pushed the section of cut fencing away. “Go ahead. I’ll clean up here.”
They crawled through; I brushed away our tracks and followed. I kicked the fence section back into place. Stood. Pointed my fingers at the cut links. Blue fire shot from my hands and fused the severed links together.
I turned. Three pairs of eyes watched me.
“That’s a nice trick,” Gamble muttered.
“Thanks. I have others up my sleeve.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
Zander and Dr. Bickel did not comment, but my old friend had that speculative look on his face again. And Zander? He wouldn’t meet my gaze. He just looked . . . whipped.
I pushed ahead of them to the second fence line. Same process.
From around the curve of the mountain, a car approached.
“Bunch up with me.”
My friends followed my instructions; in a blink, the mites sheltered us beneath an umbrella of reflecting panels. We stood still and watched the car roll by. The driver didn’t even turn his head in our direction. A second car wasn’t far behind the first, so we waited until it had passed.
“Other tricks, huh?” Gamble aimed that question at me.
All I said was, “Let’s go.”
We marched across the road, down the slope, under the barbed wir
e, away from the PIDAS and headed for the dirt patrol road that led toward the base perimeter fence. The road was rutted in places, but was easier to navigate than the desert floor.
“Come on. We’re on leveler ground now. Faster. Stay near me in case anyone else might be watching.”
We reached the chain-link perimeter, dropped down into the arroyo, and belly-crawled under the fence. Once we were on the other side and found the hiking trail, I paused.
“From here on, we walk in a tight line. The mites will keep us covered until we hit the trailhead. If Gamble’s car is still there and we don’t get ambushed, we’ll take it.”
Gamble had abandoned his car at the trailhead, and three nights and almost four days had passed. It was more than likely that the city had hauled Gamble’s car away; it was also possible that Cushing had found it and was waiting for us to show up.
“If we spot any problems, stay behind me, okay?”
They nodded, and we set off. Like ducklings headed for the lake, we marched in a line, stepping off the trail once to let two unwary hikers pass us by. Fifteen minutes later when we reached Gamble’s car, I paused again.
“Agent Gamble, I’m going to drive. The mites will disguise me and hide the three of you.”
“If you say so.”
We pulled away from the curb and, to any and all observers, the driver of the car was one middle-aged, baggy-eyed Kathy Sawyer. Witnesses would have testified under oath that I was alone in the vehicle.
I glanced once in the rearview mirror and took in Zander and Dr. Bickel’s incredulity. From the passenger seat, Gamble first gaped at me, then laughed under his breath.
Kathy Sawyer grinned back. “Oh, yeah. Lots of tricks, Agent Gamble. Lots of tricks.”
It felt good to be behind the wheel, to be moving and so close to achieving our objective. But, as I navigated through the neighborhood toward I-40, my empty stomach complained.
Loudly.
“Say, is anyone else hungry? Because I sure am—and I know a Blake’s right down Central from here.”
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give,” Dr. Bickel moaned. “It’s been months!”
“Gamble, pool our money, would you? I’m gonna place a big order!”
Stealth Retribution Page 2