Chase pinched his brow with rage-filled eyes.
Joan leaned into the table forcefully. ‘If you try to find Mercy without us, I’ll have to put you in confinement.’
Chase’s lip curled up over his long sharp incisors. ‘I’ll do as I am asked,’ he spewed out the words reluctantly.
In truth, he had become tired and annoyed and ready to leave. Throughout the interrogation, he kept thinking about something Hope said. Something about sharing the results from Mercy’s lab work. He had already made the connection between the report and the timing of kidnapping, long before the Prime questioned him. He needed to get to the answers before her. He needed to protect Mercy.
The early morning sun bled into the lobby of the living quarters. Chase hurried through the empty seating area, fighting back a yawn. He refused to give in to tiredness with Mercy still missing.
Back in the privacy of his apartment, he called on his PVA. ‘Deox, pull all work registered to Doctor Mercy.’
‘I’m sorry, Doctor Chase, but her work was classified above your level by the Prime’s office about two hours ago.’
‘What? But I’m the head of the Department on Population,’ barked Chase, frustrated.
‘Would you like me to request declassification?’ asked Deox.
‘No,’ growled Chase.
Think, Chase! He barked at himself. What was so urgent in the lab results that required her to leave the club? And what else did Hope mention? Something about a medical report?
If he couldn’t access her reports, he would find a way into the lab. He stormed out of his apartment, determined to break through any further barriers put in his way.
Two guards stood directly in front of the entrance to the Infectious Disease Facility. The guard on the right of the door spoke something in a voice low enough Chase couldn’t hear, but he guessed. They had orders to stop him. He rammed towards the men, hands rolled into fists of iron, preparing to get through with brute force.
The sudden sound of the elevator door opening behind him broke his stride and caused him to hesitate. He turned. Joan walked off the elevator; laser gun pointed directly at his chest.
‘Don’t try to stop me, Joan!’ roared Chase.
Joan dropped her gun, pointing the nose towards the ground.
‘Okay, he can go through,’ she told the security guards.
‘What’s going on?’ Chase was genuinely confused.
‘I’ve convinced the Prime you’re an asset to the investigation – my asset.’ She spoke her next words slowly, deliberately seeking a commitment: ‘Chase, are you my asset or not?’
The two stood frozen, face to face, a stand-off of will and trust.
‘Yes, I’m your asset,’ he finally gave in, speaking between clenched teeth.
‘Good. Now, let’s go in together.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The band of fugitives continued to move steadily north, invisible from the drones hovering high up in the atmosphere searching for Mercy. They had been walking silently for almost four hours when Amadeus stepped out of line, allowing the troops to march past him. As Mercy drew closer, his eyes remained on her.
Well above C10, Amadeus appeared more like an animal walking on two legs than human. Brown shaggy fur covered his body, particularly expressive around his face where the coarse hair fanned out and backwards off an elongated snout. Mercy noted his opposable thumbs, one of his few human expressions. His razor-sharp nails gave Mercy a phantom pain in her chest where the bear in the forest had sliced her flesh. She wanted to reach up, cover herself in protection, but held back.
‘May I walk with you?’ he requested, his intent soft.
Mercy shrugged her shoulders and nodded. They walked in silence for several paces before he spoke again.
‘I know about the attack in the forest,’ he said bluntly, his bass voice soothing.
Blood rushed to Mercy’s face. He must have been able to sense her nervousness. She offered a polite nod, but no response.
He continued: ‘It must be hard – separating us from them, wild animals. I know it’s different in the city. Well, I’ve been told, anyway. Hybrids treated like people. But where I was raised, humans and hybrids are not equal. Hybrids are disposable.’
Mercy broke her silence, feeling compelled to respond. ‘I’m sorry. It sounds difficult.’
He turned, meeting her eyes. ‘This is how it is. Nothing to be done about that now. All we can do is change the outcome; what will be.’
His wisdom surprised her, made him more human, less terrifying.
‘I just meant, you’re all brave,’ consoled Mercy.
‘I had a friend at the camp — a wolf hybrid. We were at the top of our class: best kill record and all. One night, during field exercises, we were separated from the troop, part of isolation survival training. He kept a watch out while I rested. I laid nearby, my back to him, but I couldn’t sleep. I could feel his eyes on me, or maybe I just hoped. When I turned and saw his face, his wanting, I suddenly felt the same. We mated and lay together until the sun rose.’
Amadeus told his story with no filters, no sense of embarrassment, just facts.
‘That was Tommy?’ asked Mercy, remembering his chant when Michael called the troops to head back north.
‘Yes,’ he replied, eyes cast down towards his feet, a deep sadness settled into his face. ‘Funny now, when I think about it – it was love, wasn’t it? Attachment, at least. I guess. But Tommy, I think he knew more than me. I think he knew his feelings were love.’
‘Where is Tommy?’ Mercy asked.
Amadeus’ eyes glazed over. ‘Caught, taken to the incinerator.’
An audible gasp left Mercy before she could catch it.
‘He wrote poetry –’ Amadeus continued in a voice so mournful, so desperate and sad, Mercy felt her eyes grow wet, ‘– for me. Although he never used my name. A single expression of passion was enough to make him redundant.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mercy offered, almost near tears for the bear and his lover.
‘You see, Doctor Mercy.’ He looked ahead at the marching hybrids before them. ‘Escaping is not bravery. This is what we are trained to do. But we have no training in living a human life. That’s what scares us. We just want a chance to try.’
Mercy thought about Chase. Either by circumstance or design, Amadeus saw himself as an animal with human traits; Chase, a human with animal characteristics. And now she was carrying a hybrid child. What kind of future would it have? Would it be allowed to love? Would it be allowed to explore and choose its path in life?
Michael came to an abrupt stop, as did the troops behind him, almost simultaneously. Mercy nearly slammed into Jillet who kept close by her throughout the day. They arrived at the edge of the forest. A long valley stretched out before them, and the mountains were in sight. Mercy recognised the black stone ridge and snow-covered peaks from her trip north with Chase and Joan.
There was a shuffle in the treetops. Athena’s white wings brought her to the ground, and she sang to Michael. He called Amadeus to the front. The three counselled in private, backs to the crowd. Michael turned to face eager eyes.
‘We camp here for the night.’ His order short and unexplained.
The band of fugitives scurried about the forest floor collecting branches to build a concealed camp, a practised ritual they all knew well.
Michael made his way to a nearby river. Mercy waited a moment and then followed him. He knelt on the silt bank and cupping his hands together, scooped up the ice-cold water, and let it pour down his head to his wingtips.
Mercy cleared her throat. Turning, he gave his wings a shake causing an explosion of water beads to rain down around him.
‘Why did we stop?’ she asked, her eyes on his, trying not to wander down his wet feathered chest.
‘There is a lot of traf
fic overhead looking for us. We’ll pick up again tomorrow.’
Mercy took a moment, then spoke again. ‘Michael, these people seem to think I can help. And you seem to think the impossible – that there is a cure. What exactly do you know?’
His drying feathers flickered in the breeze. He spoke softly. ‘They wouldn’t have created a biological weapon without the cure; too risky,’ he said, unapologetic for his earlier lie. ‘We just need to get inside and find it.’
Her eyes shifted away. She had to think before she spoke. Michael’s plan suddenly felt very haphazard. Of course, it made sense that if they had created the mutation, they would be trying to find a cure, but it was still a big gamble to assume they had achieved it. To risk his life, the lives of the people with him, and her life – all on a hunch. She couldn’t reconcile that level of irresponsibility with the man before her, the man who had led a mutiny of soldiers to freedom. She could only conclude that he was hiding something; he must know more than he was sharing.
‘How did you get that research report you gave me? I need to know who you’re working with if you want my help,’ insisted Mercy.
He met her stare head-on. ‘Not now. Later tonight, when we have more time.’
Mercy nodded agreement, not having any other choice. ‘Tonight then. So, how can I help with the camp?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Infectious Disease lab had been cleared of all personnel. The virtual display lit up.
‘Playback yesterday’s events from the moment Doctor Mercy’s session started,’ Chase ordered.
‘That information is now classified,’ the lab PVA instructed.
Chase clenched his fists and ground his teeth in rage. He looked at Joan. ‘Why am I being locked out?’
Joan spoke urgently, ‘I’ve managed to get you fifteen minutes in here. Use them quickly.’ She ordered the lab PVA: ‘Lab, security clearance approved, declassify Doctor Mercy’s reports for Doctor Chase.’
‘Yes, Ambassador Joan.’
The observation room lit up and began to play the recording of the events requested. At the centre of the room appeared a virtual Doctor Mercy, preparing for her tests with the raccoon assistant. The image caused Chase to yearn for Mercy, for his pack. He held back an urge to howl, something he had learned to control years ago.
Chase waved his hand, scrubbing through the video, gathering the highlights. Streaks of Mercy’s image moving in fast forward blurred across the display screen. Chase paused on specific moments, examining her work in detail. At times he seemed lost, unable to keep up with her process.
‘She’s good. This would have taken my team weeks,’ Chase said almost enviously.
He scrolled faster; the scene sped forward. He reached the point where Mercy’s image prepared to leave the lab. At fourteen minutes into the video playback, with one minute left, it finally dawned on him what she was looking for and why.
‘Good God,’ exclaimed Chase.
‘What?’ Joan nearly jumped.
Chase turned to her, pale. ‘She’s testing the mutation for anomalies.’
‘What kind of anomalies?’
‘Human-engineered anomalies,’ he said, sober.
‘He was right,’ Joan declared to herself, not revealing who he was.
Chase grabbed her by the arm. ‘What’s going on?’
‘We have to get out of here, now! We’re both in danger.’ Joan’s tone was urgent and almost afraid.
‘Not until you tell me what is happening.’
‘Chase, we have one minute before they realise we are here. I didn’t get the Prime’s approval as I said. We are both breaking the law.’
‘Where is Mercy?’ His grip tightened.
‘I know where she is. I’ll take you there. But we have to go now.’
He let her go. She pulled her laser gun from her belt and led him towards a concealed door into a back hallway.
Cautiously hugging the walls, they darted down the iridescent blue corridor. Joan in the lead, Chase staid close behind, more worried about her slipping away from him than his safety. They entered an emergency lift.
‘Floor One,’ Joan called out as the doors closed. They rose through the Earth’s surface.
‘Who created the mutation?’ Chase confronted her.
‘Doctor Brutus and the Prime,’ said Joan, her eyes watching the rising elevator with anxiousness.
Chase twisted his face in shock and confusion. Nobody had seen Doctor Brutus since he was discharged from running the Population Research and Development Centre for his outspoken beliefs in extending the hybrid genealogy beyond C10.
‘The Prime? And Doctor Brutus? But she fired him,’ he said in bewilderment.
‘Not fired. Moved. The Prime gave Brutus a secret facility. They are building an army of hybrids.’
‘The avians. Mercy didn’t imagine them,’ Chase uttered the realisation under his breath. ‘But why would the Prime build a secret military?’
‘They are worried about the Purist movement. Senator Arjun has been ramping up pressure to shut down the hybrid program, and he has strong allies. The Prime wants a backup plan in the event of a coup.’
‘That still doesn’t explain the mutation. Why create a disease that can kill hybrids if you’re trying to protect them?’
‘That I don’t know. I was told the virus mutated when exposed to the new hybrids. It was Michael who guessed Brutus was behind the mutation.’
‘Who’s Michael?’ Chase asked, trying to keep up, not very successfully.
The lift opened. Joan looked around the corner, saw nothing, poked her head out a little further, and then darted out, gun swinging left and right. Chase followed. Nose held high, and ears perked, he sniffed at the air for human scent.
‘Nobody here,’ he confirmed.
Joan pulled out a new PVA bracelet from her pocket and said, ‘Alert White Angel. We are at rendezvous.’
Within seconds of the command, Chase heard flapping overhead. The sudden sharp pinch of twelve-inch claws burrowing deep into his shoulders nearly caused him to howl. Holding back, he let out a muffled yelp of pain and grabbed the tough-skinned bird legs.
Joan’s body lifted off the ground, voluntarily limp under the control of a white-winged avian woman.
‘Let go, Chase, it’s okay,’ he heard Joan say before feeling his own feet leaving the safety of the Earth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A north wind blew down the valley, relentlessly pressing down on the long wild grasses.
Michael stood at the edge of the forest, looking across the open landscape towards the jagged spires of the mountain range on the horizon – their destination. He turned and gestured for Mercy and Amadeus to approach.
‘The overland is clear now. However, the search party covered this territory twice yesterday. We believe the next loopback will be in a few hours. Some of us will need to go underground. The avians will fly along the valley to the west, keeping an eye on the sky.’
‘I’m not crawling into that coffin of a mole tunnel again,’ stropped Amadeus.
Michael smiled, chuckling in disbelief. ‘You are sensitive, aren’t you? How you lasted as long as you did without being discovered, I’ll never know.’
Amadeus scowled, embarrassed. He dropped on all fours, becoming a natural thing, nothing more than a bear in the wild. ‘This is my cover. I can keep watch above ground.’
‘Okay, that’s probably better anyway,’ admitted Michael. ‘Manny,’ he called the man-sized mole hybrid forward.
The mole-man’s round, blubbery body, was covered in a dense coat of silky black fur. His oversized paddle-shaped hands with long curved claws were poised ready for service. He spoke from a small thin-lipped mouth below a raw pink fleshy nose. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘How far are we from the original tunnel?’
‘About half-a-mile.’ He pointed a stubby fat finger to the right, across the field, ‘That way.’
‘Is the ground loose enough for a quick surface tunnel?’
‘Yes. If I start now.’
‘Good. Let’s get started,’ commanded Michael.
The mole-man fell to the ground at the forest’s boundary and started to dig, scooping up miraculous amounts of earth with each thrust. Within minutes, the beginning of a tunnel had formed, slowly swallowing Manny’s head, then chest, until nothing remained of his body, only squirts of dirt shooting back out of the entrance.
Mercy suddenly understood Amadeus’ reservations about crawling into the tunnel – the narrow excavation seemed impossibly small.
Michael informed the troops of the plans; all those who couldn’t fly would follow Manny into the tunnel, arriving at the mountain caves by nightfall. Michael would join the other avians, keeping watch from the sky, and Amadeus would be on foot. If they ran into trouble, they would alert Manny.
One by one, the leopard, scorpion, snake and wolves, disappeared into the hole, crawling face first on their bellies, Mercy’s turn drew near. Her throat went dry, and her feet refused to move. Unexpectedly, something tugged at her hand. Jillet was standing beside her.
The small bird-girl waved Mercy to follow her. Wings tucked tightly to her back; she disappeared like a rabbit down the hole.
Mercy was the last to crawl below the earth’s surface. Daylight faded. The air tasted of iron. The thick smell of decayed grasses, weeds, flowers and dead animals crushed in damp soil seized her lungs. Occasionally she bumped into the wriggling feet of Jillet in front of her, causing her to slow down.
When pure darkness made it impossible to see anything, even her hands, Mercy’s anxiety began to escalate. She swore the tunnel was getting narrower. ‘Keep calm,’ she repeated, only to find her heart beating louder and her breathing faster. She had to stop. Her head felt fuzzy. Panic gripped her throat, and for a moment, she was near fainting when Jillet suddenly started to sing. The short melodic tune had a clear beginning, middle and end, and then a start all over again. Before long, the metronome of Jillet’s notes allowed Mercy to focus and breath regularly.
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