Genetic Abomination

by Dane Hatchell

  Did Charlotte never have any intention of meeting him and this was her way to stick it to him? That wasn’t impossible, but that would have been out of character for her. Charlotte put up with a lot of his crap, but she never hesitated to speak her mind. Deceit wasn’t part of her character.

  It was possible that something came up and she wasn’t able to come or call. Maybe something with her mother, which had her tied up.

  Phone in hand, he found her on his contacts and pressed the call icon. The phone rang, but she didn’t answer. When prompted to leave a message, he said, “Hey, just calling to see what’s up. Call back as soon as you can.” He ended the call and then sent a text message that essentially said the same thing.

  *

  It was well after 7 p.m. now. He backed the Mustang out from the old entrance and onto the street. No Charlotte in sight. What to do now?

  Cole Rainwater!

  Maybe he and Charlotte really hit it off last night, and the two were together.

  Brennon had a sudden feeling like he was being watched. He turned his head in every direction, looking to see if Cole and Charlotte were hiding somewhere nearby having the laugh of their lives at his expense. Amy’s house was two streets away, so he knew they couldn’t see him from there.

  He never did like that Rainwater boy. That kid was weird with all his UFOs and bigfoot and stuff. What on Earth did Charlotte see in a loser like him?

  He did want her back like he had never thought he could imagine pining away for a girl. But there was no way he was going to be crapped on. He did have too much pride for that.

  I bet she’s over at his house and is getting her ‘revenge’ on me right now. As bitter as that thought was, he was prepared to accept it. But Brennon Davis wasn’t going to be made a fool of. He knew where Rainwater lived, and he had no problem driving over there right now and confronting both of them.

  The two are welcome to have each other but not until I set the record straight.

  Brennon reached in the back and flicked the lid off the cooler. He grabbed the icy bottle of Prosecco and brought it to his lap. The wrapper came off the top, he rolled down his window, and then untwisted the wire keeper from the neck. The cork shot out the window before he had the chance to yank on it. Some of the sparkling wine frothed out onto his left hand.

  He brought his fingers up and sucked them dry. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he drank deeply. The rush of carbonation brought fire to his nose and tears to his eyes. But the tears didn’t stop flowing, and it wasn’t because of the wine.

  Chapter 15

  The Present

  He laid with his eyes closed in a place where time no longer existed. Still, his thoughts swam just below a level of consciousness, where all eternity seemed to begin and end.

  Zax became aware of cool earth and grasses underneath him before awakening. The air was fresh, with a hint of sweetness from the nectar of flowers. His body felt like it was made of lead and his muscles hadn’t been used in years.

  Once his eyes opened, monoliths towered above and seemed to lean their green crowns toward each other, and look down on him. After blinking a few times, the illusion evaporated. Reality, once again, came into focus.

  The familiar blue sky didn’t look any different than the one he remembered, but there was no way to tell at this moment if he had made the trip back in time or not. Where else would he be, though?

  Had everything gone as planned, and he was a few hundred years in the past? What if he had only gone back a few days? If something had gone wrong and he had traveled a short time in the past, he could then try and warn the rebels of the future. Would he meet himself? Could a person from two different timelines co-exist? If he did warn the rebels, what would they do then? Would they try and figure out what went wrong and then try again? Would Tarik live and Zax die if they did?

  Zax tired of the paradoxes time travel had brought. He had a mission to complete. A mission that he had no idea would fall on his shoulders, but there was no doubt that he was as well prepared to change the data crystal in the alien probe as Tarik. He would have the further challenge of doing so as an alien himself if this were indeed the time they had targeted.

  Tarik. His good friend was dead. It didn’t seem true, but he knew, he remembered. Just when Zax thought Tarik was about to go on his one-way journey, he saw him fall face-first, and a pool of blood grow underneath him. Tarik’s last words were heartfelt, expressing his love for Zax. It saddened him that Tarik didn’t live long enough afterward for him to return his feelings.

  Rising slowly, he placed his weight on his left forearm and pushed up into a sitting position. Tall grasses, trees, and bushy foliage hid any signs of civilization. At least his surroundings made sense. If an alien probe were to land on the Earth, it certainly wouldn’t do so in a public area. Only a general location was known of where it would land. He was supposed to be within a one to ten-mile radius of that point. But how was he going to know when it would come unless he was an eyewitness of the event? That was one of the hardest parts of Tarik’s mission. He was supposed to blend in with society and be on the watch for news of unusual sightings in the area. Zax couldn’t do that. He actually would have to see it land and have less than twelve hours to find it before it returned to outer space and eventually warp back to the Skinks’ home planet.

  And then what? Live his life in the woods with the other animals? He guessed, ultimately, that wouldn’t be the worst of sacrifices. As long as he completed his mission, of course. Maybe he could one day reveal himself to the human world. It was a risky chance, but one he might be prepared to make.

  His blaster and backpack were near his feet. He stretched over and pulled the backpack to his lap. The data crystal, still attached to the tape Tarik had held it to his body with, was right on top of the other supplies. Can’t let anything happen to you, he thought. He moved the data crystal to a pouch that was reinforced on the sides to protect what was in it.

  There were several packages of food and Z-bars, two bottles of super-hydrating water, survival knife; the typical stuff rebels carried with them on missions, in the backpack. He wouldn’t go hungry for a while. But he was a little tired of eating the pre-made food. For some reason, he had a strong appetite for fresh food. Fresh meat, even. Perhaps the travel back in time affected his physiology in some way and was in need of certain nutrients. A sudden craving for a Z-bar confirmed what he suspected about his body. It was in need. Time travel had taken something out of him that needed replenishing.

  Digging a Z-bar out, he peeled off the wrapper and took a bite. His electronic compass/rangefinder, also standard backpack carry-on, caught his gaze. He pulled the device out and turned it on. The rangefinder came to life as usual but took longer to boot up than normal. The small tablet showed familiar information but much cruder in content. Amazingly, the electronics in the rangefinder were back-compatible enough to communicate with this era’s satellites. This was a huge and unexpected advantage! Zax could now see more than the ten miles needed.

  Quickly finishing his Z-bar, already feeling somewhat refreshed, he went to work finding just how much information he could extract from the satellites. With a little luck, he’d be able to locate the Skink probe the minute it made its orbit around Earth.

  *

  Zax crept through the wooded area with his blaster at the ready. He had spotted deer tracks and came upon a pile of fresh deer sign. His craving for fresh meat was now near overwhelming. If he didn’t kill something soon, he was going to have to force-feed himself a packaged meal to see if that would satisfy him in some way.

  The rangefinder was able to collect more information than he had hoped. There were over two thousand man-made satellites orbiting above. The transmissions to Earth were encrypted, but Skink technology broke all the codes in a short amount of time. Zax had access to endless amounts of data.

  While searching one of the data streams, he came across one named Google Earth. From there, he easily learned his location and e
ven got to see a less than optimum image of the area. He wasn’t that far from rural civilization, but cities were a good distance away. The Google Earth program showed more detail in the populated areas. Zax was even able to get a street view and look at houses and cars of the 21st century. He was actually back in time where old-life was the common way of the world.

  A movement in the woods caught his eye. A six-point buck grazed near a large tree some fifteen meters away. Stealthily moving for a closer shot, he raised his blaster to his shoulder and pointed the self-aiming barrel toward the target. The blaster discharged, and the deer collapsed to the ground.

  As he approached his kill, Zax remembered the conversation with Tarik about the rabbit in the woods before the dogs showed up. It was a shame that his friend couldn’t be here with him. A spirit of loneliness draped over him. This was his life now. No Tarik, no Bix, none of his rebel warrior brothers. His parents had passed away, and he didn’t have any siblings. The rebels had become his new family.

  The buck’s glassy eyes gazed into the distance. Zax remembered the same death-stare on Tarik’s face when he had died.

  Shaking off the remorse, he retrieved the survival knife from the backpack and went to work gutting and skinning the game.

  Cleaning a deer was a first for him. The job was simple enough, cutting off the head and feet, and then spilling the entrails onto the ground while cutting from its groin to its neck up the middle. It did make somewhat of a mess. Blood and goo made his fingers sticky, and he did his best not to get any on his body hair. There was no way of knowing where the closest stream or river was to wash off.

  Before cutting the carcass into pieces, Zax gathered wood for the fire and branches to construct a couple of rotisserie spits. The laser in the survival knife quickly heated the kindling, and soon the fire was ablaze creating the hot coals necessary for cooking. For this afternoon’s meal, backstrap and leg roast were on the menu.

  It was a bit tricky constructing the spits, but Zax was proud of his efforts. The meat slowly roasted above the glowing coals, giving a wonderful smell that had Zax wanting to sink his teeth into it even though it was still raw.

  Just as soon as the juices on the backstrap turned clear, he removed the meat away from the fire and placed it on a flat stone he had found nearby and wiped clean the best he could. Slicing away the first piece with the knife, he bit into it like a hungry bear.

  It was still a little too hot, but he didn’t care. Even though the meat hadn’t been seasoned, it was the most wonderful he’d ever tasted. Finishing his first piece, he cut another. It then became a race to see if he could cut faster than he could chew and swallow. Before he knew it, the slab of goodness had disappeared.

  Zax’s fingers smelled of cooked flesh mingled with the wildness of blood from when he had gutted the deer. He was still hungry, and the leg roast still cooked over the fire.

  The roast was larger than the backstrap, so naturally, it would take longer to cook. Zax felt he couldn’t wait and carved off a mostly cooked slab from the outside and ate it. Blood pooled on the main piece left behind. The roast wasn’t as tender as the backstrap, but it too was one of the best things he had ever eaten.

  He carved more from the outside until the cooked portions were gone. Despite the fact the meat was still bloody, Zax removed the roast away from the fire. He held the spit on either end and bit into the partially cooked flesh. Teeth sank deeply as he ripped away his first chunk, shredding the flesh under the power of his jaws.

  As he ate, his basic senses came alive. He felt invigorated; like he had been out of place all of his life and now had come home. It was a beast-like feeling, where this was his territory for him to live off of and defend.

  Zax smelled a squirrel in a tree behind him, and then looked to see it there. He turned his gaze to another tall tree and saw an owl sleeping the last of the day away, for it would soon turn dark.

  Once the last of the leg roast was gone, he tossed the spit to the ground. There was still most of the deer carcass left. Zax had room in his belly for more. Looking at the fire, it had died down enough that he’d have to add more wood. No matter. The last few bits of the roast had been practically raw.

  Stepping over to the deer and brushing the flies away, he cut off one of the front legs, making sure to carve a portion of the shoulder along with it. There was absolutely nothing displeasing about the metallic-like taste of blood as Zax bit into it. In fact, he realized that this was the way meat was supposed to be eaten.

  By the time Zax ate his fill, the sun had set, and Venus came out to shine. He made sure the fire was out, as he didn’t want to camp here for the night. There was a farm a few miles from there, and despite all the meat that he had eaten, he still had a craving for fresh vegetables.

  With rangefinder in hand, Zax set upon a new journey.

  *

  She plodded aimlessly through the forest, which was a dangerous thing for a bigfoot to do. Living among the Stealers had become increasingly difficult. Civilization continuously encroached to some degree from every side. History had taught them that if any of her kind were captured, an invasion was sure to follow.

  The story had been passed down, where many generations ago, one of their ancestors had been captured by the Stealers. The townspeople gathered a large force and sought to rid the peace-loving Holders, the literal meaning of the word the bigfoot called themselves.

  The Stealers came with sticks that barked with the sound of thunder. The stinger from the weapon made gaping holes in flesh and brought many ancestors to the place of forever-sleep.

  The whole Holders’ nation sensed the danger and came together for the first time in millennia, perhaps even the first time since the Scattering of First Family. There was no reasoning with the Stealers. The only thing they understood was death.

  One by one, the Holders eliminated those who attacked. But knowing the way of the Stealers, they took no chance of becoming victims again.

  The Holders gathered at night while the Stealers slept and killed every man, woman, and child in the town and the surrounding area. Their deaths were swift but executed without mercy.

  When it was over, the dead, both Holder and Stealer, were gathered and brought to the Great Burial Ground where all Holder remains resided. That was the first and only time Stealers were buried among the Holders. There was a vow for there to be no more, as another attack on Holder sacred grounds would end in a decisive war where only one victor would remain.

  Her name was Cha’nu. She was old enough to bear children and should have been expecting this season. But her mate had died unexpectedly when a great branch from a tree suddenly fell and struck him on the head.

  Though territorial in a common respectful manner, Holders in the area gathered and paid final homage at the burial ground.

  Yes, there were a least two suitors who sought to fill her loneliness. One was too young, in her opinion. The other, though strong, did not stir the fires of her desire.

  Cha’nu’s mind never felt the same after her mate’s death. It was as if the dense fog of the morning had rolled in and never left. She had to wade through thoughts to function in life. Existence had lost its luster. She simply went through the motions of life each day until the sleep of night turned her hurt off. She would go to a place where she was lost in a sea of nothing until the sun would snatch peace from her and wake her up.

  An acrid odor stung her sensitive nostrils, bringing her fully aware. The smell was faint, the smell of wood burning, perhaps coming from tens of miles away. Still, fire was the destroyer of homes and threatened all life in vast areas. Fire was the greatest enemy, and the only way to survive its destruction was to flee.

  Before panic set in, charring meat odors mingled with the smoke. With a forest fire, smells of grasses and hair would intermingle. This was not a forest fire, to her relief. But then the concern shifted to the second greatest threat: the Stealers! If she could smell their cooking fires, then they were too close.

 
Cha’nu briefly thought on meeting with others to warn them of her concern. But for some reason, the challenge gave her a sense of purpose. She would go alone and investigate.

  Following the smell, she picked up her pace and scampered through the woods. It had been a long time since she had moved this fast. Adrenaline pumped through her body energizing it to carry her through the terrain.

  And then she came to a screeching halt. A scent mingled with the smoke and cooking meat. A scent somewhat familiar but totally unique. There was no doubt that it was something close to Holder and nothing like any Stealer she had smelled. What was this unique creature?

  Curiosity empowered her more. Cha’nu bounded through the forest to solve the mystery.

  *

  Zax found the dark of the forest comforting. In a way, he felt invisible, all-powerful, as he traveled underneath the stars twinkling overhead. His previous life, which strangely had yet to occur, seemed distant; unreal, actually. It was as if he had always been in the forest. Living day by day and moment by moment, not giving care to the previous day nor the one to come. Now was the only thing that had substance. Now was the only thing that mattered.

  He found his destination easily with the guidance of the rangefinder. It led him to the back of a remote farm. Chickens roosted in an enclosure behind a rickety old barn. Not far, a sad looking garden set adjacent from a large area, the soil tilled and rowed, either ready for planting or waiting for seeds to emerge. It appeared he had arrived between growing seasons.

  Having journeyed this far, his taste buds still aching for some fresh vegetables, Zax stepped on the soft ground over to the garden.

  The broccoli had seen much better days. The heads had long ago been harvested, and the florets that remained had flowered and gone to seed. Of the six cabbage plants, two maintained some viability after he peeled off a few of the surrounding leaves.