Alone tgitb-1

by Robert J. Crane

  “Yeah, well, if wishes were horses I wouldn’t need a ride home.”

  She straightened. “You can’t possibly be thinking of going home now. Not with Wolfe hunting you.”

  I glared at her. “I was doing just fine until your keystone cops broke into my house. Hell, I was doing just fine after they drove me out – and how do I know that this Wolfe guy isn’t one of yours?”

  “He is not—” she emphasized every syllable, ire running over her words—“one of ours . He is a monster, a killer by any definition, the type of threat we guard against. You must have seen – he killed two strangers in the parking lot.”

  Self-consciously, my hand played across my neck. Those men had been trying to help me, and they didn’t even know me. “I saw it.”

  “You think we were involved in that?”

  “Lady – Ariadne – whatever your name is, I don’t know you. All I know is that my mom has been missing for a week, that your guys shot up my house—”

  “With tranquilizer darts.”

  “—and then I meet one guy who says he wants to help me and another that grabs me by the throat and throttles me. Then I get brought here. I don’t know any of you, I don’t trust any of you, and I really just want to know where my mom is.” The smallest dab of real emotion escaped me in my last words.

  “I can help you with that – with finding her.”

  I paused in my tirade. “Do you know where she is?”

  Ariadne deflated. “No. But we can search, and we have more resources to help with that than you do by yourself.”

  I smirked. “I’m sure you’d do that out of the kindness of your hearts.”

  “We’re here to help meta-humans like yourself.” Her fingers met and interlaced.

  “And what do you want from me in return?”

  She hesitated. “Nothing difficult. We’d like to run some tests—”

  “Cut me open and prod my innards?”

  “Nothing like that. We don’t know what kind of meta-human you are.”

  I rubbed my eyes in fatigue and disbelief. “You keep calling me a meta-human. What is that?”

  She straightened, portraying a certain pretentiousness as she lectured to me, the ignorant teenager. “Meta is from the Greek, meaning—”

  “Beyond human. Yes, I know that.” Her face fell and I was suddenly glad of the endless hours of study Mother had forced on me just for a chance to needle this woman who I’d known for less than five minutes but who already grated on me. “You were saying ‘meta-humans’ as though there are a lot of us.”

  Ariadne took a few steps away from the table and faced the mirror. I could still see her expression, and she looked up, as if she were recalling something. “There are six billion people in the world. By our estimates, less than three thousand are meta-human.” She turned to face me. “Meta-humans have powers, skills and abilities beyond those of normal humans. Superior strength, speed and dexterity are usually signs of meta-human abilities.”

  “Is that all? Faster, stronger, more nimble?”

  She shook her head. “Those are standard. Every meta-human has other, more unique abilities that manifest around age eighteen and are often hereditary.”

  Something clicked for me. “My mom was meta-human?”

  A flash of surprise entered Ariadne’s face. “Yes, she was - or is, depending on what’s happened to her – meta-human, but we have no idea what type.”

  “How do you know about my mom?” My fists were clenched. I kept my eyes focused on her, trying to detect any hint she was lying.

  “Your mother is a legend in our field,” Ariadne replied. “She worked with the Agency – a precursor to the Directorate. It was the U.S. government’s first attempt to monitor and control meta-human activity. She was a field agent, one of the best. She racked up an impressive string of captures of hostile meta-humans.” Her expression softened. “She saved a lot of lives – human and meta.”

  “But she left?”

  “The Agency was destroyed by a group of meta-human terrorists. Apparently she escaped before that happened, though it was assumed she hadn’t survived the attack.”

  Understanding dawned on me. “You think she was involved?”

  “She was with the Agency for ten years and disappeared at the same time it was destroyed? She must have been pregnant with you at the time, based on your age. So she disappears off the grid for over eighteen years if she’s innocent?” Ariadne shrugged. “Maybe she was and she took the opportunity presented by the attack to escape to protect you. It is a dangerous line of work, trying to keep meta-humans under control.”

  “So you’re with the government?”

  “The Agency was. That’s why they were found and destroyed. The Directorate is…not so encumbered.” She smiled.

  “Shady. So you want to test me?” I asked with more than a hint of suspicion. “Why?”

  “There are different types of meta-humans. Let me start with some history. You’ve heard myths of giants, fairy tales, things like that? Meta-humans have been around as long as humanity, and humans described their abilities in ways that spread to become legend. For example, Wolfe.” She took a deep breath. “He used to walk on all fours – I guess it’s his preferred manner of movement; he looks—”

  “Like a dog – or a wolf,” I interrupted.

  “Right, except he’s one of three brothers, and – going by the word of a meta-human that’s been alive for several thousand years – the three used to be guards for a Greek meta-human so vicious that he was known as Death. The brothers were called a three-headed dog at some point…”

  “Three-headed dog…” I blinked. “…Cerberus?”

  She cringed. “Appalling, isn’t it? That’s what several thousand years of folklore will do to the accuracy of a story. But according to our files, which only go back a century or so, he’s killed hundreds, so he seems like the sort of hellhound that would guard the escape from the underworld, I suppose.”

  “And I’m like him in some way?” I felt a pang of disgust as I visualized the teeth of Wolfe.

  Her voice became soothing, almost reassuring. “Like I said, there are different types of meta-humans. Wolfe is a creature who has built up a horrible legend, and he’s lived for thousands and thousands of years. His proclivities for murder and torture are the stuff of serial killer stories.” Her cringe turned to disgust. “He’s a very powerful meta, but his homicidal tendencies put him on the fringe. I doubt you’re anything like him.” She shuddered. “I don’t think anyone is – except maybe his brothers.”

  I tried to imagine three of them. One was plenty.

  “About the testing process,” she said. Her eyes bored into mine and I could tell she was trying to be caring or warm. It wasn’t working. “We just want to help you find out what you are. If we had ill intentions, you would have woken up strapped to the table and the testing would have already been done. We’re not here to hurt you or force you to do something against your will. We’re here to help.”

  I thought about what she said. When I was unconscious, they could have violated me any way they wanted. Point in their favor, but I wasn’t going to trust them that easy. “Noted.”

  “I don’t expect you to make an immediate decision.” She turned and indicated the place in the wall where she had entered. “Now that we’ve talked, you’re free to explore our campus and give it some thought. I’ve had quarters prepared for you; you can stay with us if you’d like.”

  I stared her down. “And if I don’t like?”

  She shrugged again. “Then you can leave. But I’d ask you to give it a day of thought first. Meet some of our people – including the meta-humans – and see what they have to say. With your mother missing, I doubt there’s anyone else that could help you make your way through what must be a strange transition. Or protect you from others who would wish you harm.”

  I stuck my chin out in defiance. “What about Reed?”

  “I don’t know who he is or what his agenda is
.” I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. Damn.

  “And how did you find me?”

  I caught the strain of hesitation in her face. “We’d heard Wolfe was in the Minneapolis area, tracking the daughter of Sierra – your mother – so I sent Zack and Kurt to follow him. He led us to your house.”

  “Then why didn’t he come charging in before your boys did?” My arms folded in front of me.

  “They…sidelined him,” she replied. “Shot him with darts that knocked him out while they entered your house to roust you.”

  “I see.” I pursed my lips. “I’ll stay – for a day. To…make up my mind.”

  A wan smile cracked her lips. “All I ask is that you give us a chance – to win your trust.”

  I returned her smile as she left, but as I turned my back on the one-sided mirror I felt it fade from my lips as I pondered her story about how they found me. I played back in my mind the expression on her face, the tone of her words as she told it. I considered how her eyes moved, darting back and forth.

  That time, I knew she was lying.

  Five

  The snow stretched across the horizon. The Directorate facility was isolated and surrounded by rolling fields bordered by forests. The woods had evergreen trees as well as the seasonal ones that had lost their leaves. The winter had left the grounds settled under a couple feet of snow.

  I sat on a bench behind the dormitory building. The Directorate campus was huge, dozens of buildings strung together by a web of interconnected paths that had been plowed and salted. After being shown to my room, I explored the closet and grabbed the heavy coat and gloves they had left and headed outside. After all, I had not spent any time outdoors in several years, and I took this, my first opportunity, to really look at and feel the snow.

  I smiled as the wind swept over me, stinging my cheeks and chilling my nose. I felt the cold creeping between my toes in the thin boots I wore. The air was fresh; fresher than anything I could recall ever smelling, with just a hint of smoke from somewhere in the distance. I couldn’t hear anything but the blowing of the wind. It was enough to make me forget that I couldn’t go home and that even if I did, Mom wasn’t there.

  A memory sparked to mind, of us downstairs. Our house was old, with a basement that had concrete block walls, and pipes hanging everywhere. Mom had turned the largest part of it into a workout room, with mats on the floor for practicing martial arts. She had weapons hanging on the wall, and every day we’d practice for a few hours. She was good; she taught me everything I know.

  And now she’s gone.

  I heard the footfalls behind me and turned. It was Oldie, Kurt Hannegan and his younger partner, Hottie. Zack, I remembered Ariadne calling him. They were both wearing their dark suits with black ties and looking solemn. In the light I could see them a little better. Kurt’s nose was swollen from where I had hit him. Looking at Zack reaffirmed my suspicion that he was not hard on the eyes, and had sandy blond hair and a tanned face.

  I had already gotten a look at Kurt when he was coming at me in the house. Big around the midsection, the waistband of his pants sticking out to wrap around his outstretched belly, giving him the look of a penguin. His face bore the scars of a long-ago bout with acne, and the little hair that remained on top of his head was thin and combed over from the bushy brambles that wrapped the sides of his skull. If he could wear a fedora, his baldness might be passable.

  They both lurked just out of arm’s reach. Zack looked at me and smiled, far more warmly than I deserved since a day ago I had hit him in the groin so hard I was surprised he was still walking. I felt a little tingle and looked away, straight at Kurt. Oldie glared, giving me a wary look you might reserve for a criminal offender.

  “Nice to see you boys are up and walking,” I said with a sarcasm that I couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard I tried. All right, I’ll admit it – I didn’t try very hard. But at least in Zack’s case, I felt bad about it.

  Zack spoke first, looking back at Kurt, almost for reassurance. “Yeah, you pack a mean punch with that baton.” His eyes were brown, but I saw some humor in them. The forgiving sort? I pegged him for a sucker. One day out in the big, bad world and I could already spot them.

  “Yeah, she’s a real champ in the dark with a baton,” Kurt shot back. “Step into the ring and lace up a pair of boxing gloves and we’ll see what kind of fighter she is.”

  I smiled at him, a kind of dazzling, annoying, faux smile that probably set off his bullshit detector. He wasn’t a sucker. “It wouldn’t matter if it were drunken boxing, muay thai, kickboxing or just straight up, ‘Marquess of Queensbury rules’, because I could flatten your fat ass with any of those styles.” I turned my head away to hide my smile but listened for footsteps in case he took umbrage and tried to sucker punch me. Even if he did, I would have bet I could still beat his ass.

  Kurt’s snort of indignation was drowned out by a chuckle and low whistle from Zack. The big man recovered. “I don’t beat up little girls.”

  “You certainly don’t succeed at it, but you try – and when that doesn’t work out, you shoot at them until they take your gun away.” I turned back in time to watch his face contort at my goad. My faux smile had turned real, an impish grin rooted in my deep amusement at twisting his tail. His little piggy tail.

  Zack laughed again, a wheezing cackle that made him stoop to slap a knee. Kurt’s face was ashen. “They don’t pay me enough to deal with your meta crap. They should have sent M-Squad after you; I’m not a retriever—”

  I smiled at him. “You should add that to the list of things you’re not – a retriever, thin, a good shot, attractive, young, virile—”

  He turned and stormed off in a perfect impression of countless divas I’d seen on TV over the years. I saluted his back as he walked down the path. “Don’t forget ‘possessed of a sense of humor’ or ‘gracious loser’!” He threw up a finger behind him as he continued his walk. “Oh! And ‘witty’! You’re not witty!”

  “Damn,” Zack said in mild consternation as he watched Kurt walk away. “I’m gonna have to soothe his wounded pride later.” He turned back to me. “You really do pack a mean punch. Sienna, right?”

  My smile went from mean-spirited to as pleasant as I could muster and I wasn’t quite sure why. I guess there was no point in being wicked to everyone, especially not when Zack was trying to be nice. Besides, I’d already proven I could drop him to the ground if need be. “That’s right. Sienna Nealon. You’re Zack…?”

  “Davis.” He smiled. “You taken a tour of the grounds yet?”

  I shook my head. “Saw the dormitory and the big building over there—” I waved in the direction that Kurt was heading—“that I woke up in.”

  “Yeah, that’s our headquarters. But there’s other stuff, too, like a gym, a garage and a firing range.”

  “A gym?” I cocked an eyebrow at that. The desire to work out was stronger than I would have guessed. I’d gone the week since Mom left without following the routine.

  He shook his head, eyes wide. “I guess I shouldn’t be amazed, but I kind of am. We brought you in less than twenty-four hours ago and I had to hold a jacket around your neck to keep you from bleeding to death. And now you’re fine and looking for a place to work out.” He pointed down a path and started walking. I fell into step beside him.

  “You’re not meta-human?”

  He shook his head. “Just a normal guy. I work with them a lot, like M-Squad – they’re all metas, and normally they’d be the ones that would have come to get you, not Kurt and me, but they’re down in South America doing…something.”

  “Ooh, ominous.”

  He laughed. “Not supposed to be. They’re probably bringing in another meta, but I’m not exactly in the loop, so I don’t know for sure. That’s what they do though; bring in new metas that we identify, or bring down ones that are causing trouble.”

  I eyed him. “And what I did yesterday, would that fit your definition of ‘causing trouble?’“r />
  He laughed again. “Nah, I would’ve fought back too if strangers broke into my house. We were supposed to bring you in quiet, and you metas don’t typically do anything quiet if it’s against your will. Kurt told ‘em that, but Old Man Winter said to tranq you and be done with it.”

  I stopped walking. “Old Man Winter?”

  He stopped and his tanned face adopted a pinched “I-shouldn’t-have-said-that” look. “Ahh, I mean…damn. The boss.”

  “I thought Ariadne was the boss?”

  He shook his head. “Ariadne’s in charge, mostly, but she’s not the big cheese. Old Man Winter…we call him that because…you know, some people say ‘The Old Man’ and he’s kinda up there in the years, but he’s…I dunno, cold. Like he never shows emotion. Never smiles, never gets angry.”

  “So you call him Old Man Winter. He got a name?”

  “Erich Winter.”

  I laughed. “That explains it.”

  “Yeah. He’s a good boss, just…”

  “Cold.”

  “Right.”

  “So how long have you been with the Directorate?” I cast a sidelong glance at him as we walked. Ahead of us loomed a building that matched every other in the complex. Gray concrete walls, squat and blocky with a section that extended well above the rest of the building. Glass doors marked the entryway, but like all the others I had seen, it was unlabeled.

  “Couple years. They got me coming out of the U of M.”

  “University of Minnesota?”

  “Yeah. You gotta be close to college age. Were you thinking about going?”

  I laughed. “You know my background, right?” He nodded. “Mom wasn’t big on the idea of me leaving the house. Ever. Said it was dangerous.”

  His face turned serious. “She was right, you know. She kept you quiet all these years; now it’s a rush to get ahold of you. Wolfe and whoever he works for – they’re rounding up every meta they can lay hands on – and if Sierra Nealon’s daughter is in play, it was going to be a mad dash to get to you first.”