by Thom Reese
Tresset nodded a subtle nod and gazed at the rock-strewn earth before him. Donald glanced to his right, noticing two fur-covered reyaqc mating, unashamed, in the midst of the populace, the male nearly suffocating the female with his weight and intensity as he served his own lust. Despite his background, Donald couldn’t help but think of them as barbaric, as animals even. “The reyaqc have contributed much to human society,” offered Tresset as if unaware of the sight before him. “Though, none have received due credit. Aristotle, founder of western thought and early science—a reyaqc. Peter the Hermit, instrumental in the formation of the misguided Crusades—reyaqc. Two signers of the American constitution—reyaqc. Genghis Kahn—reyaqc. Tolstoy—reyaqc. But each was forced to hide behind the mask of humanity for fear that the simple-minded humans would not understand their true nature. But you know all this. You’ve written extensively on each of these men in your ever-so-precious Histories.”
“What is the common element among these well-known reyaqc?” countered Donald. “None were molts. None lived in animal-like packs on the fringes of civilization. None mated in the streets like dogs. Rather, they contributed to the greater good with the hope that one day our people could come forward as equals and be accepted.”
Tresset cocked his head, offering a wry grin. “Khan was hardly what you would call civilized.”
Donald chuckled. “Despite his somewhat barbaric ways, Khan established laws and was even instrumental in creating a standard written language for his people. He instigated a postal system. Even in his brutality, he was a civilizing force.”
“And so will I be.” Tresset withdrew his neatly folded antiseptic rag from his pocket and wiped his palms and forearms. “But I will not pretend to be human in order to accomplish my goal.”
No, thought Donald. You’ll allow me to do that in your stead, and then belittle me for having the foresight to pave your way. Aloud, he said, “What goal is that?”
Tresset’s milky eyes gleamed and it seemed he stood a little straighter as he said, “An established reyaqc territory in the western United States. A recognized people. A nation unto ourselves, with our own laws, our own government.”
“How do you hope to accomplish this feat?”
“Why, in the same manner humans have used for centuries—war.”
Donald was astonished at his companion’s temerity. Though, this, he probably shouldn’t have been. Tresset had always had a bit of a god complex about him, never fully understanding—or being willing to understand—the limitations set on him by the world in which he lived. “Tresset,” offered Donald, almost as if addressing a child. “The United States boasts a population of over three hundred million. The world contains over six billion humans. The reyaqc number only in the thousands worldwide—not even tens of thousands, but just thousands. Your pack, though large, numbers no more than one hundred. We are not on the brink of dominance, but rather extinction.”
Tresset eyed Donald as if he was the child. “Victory no longer need belong to the largest, most well-equipped army, Dolnaraq. Look at nine-eleven. See what Al-Qaeda achieved, or what the IRA accomplished in Ireland. A small, fiercely-dedicated force might topple a giant. You may not respect our way of life, but that makes us no less formidable.”
Before Donald could respond, there came a sudden growling and scuffling from behind. Turning, he saw two adolescent males skirmishing over a slain and bloody coyote. The larger of the two, an auburn-colored molt with an extended snout and a lean muscular frame, wrestled his rival to the ground and pinned his right arm in place by clenching his jaws over the other’s wrist. The other kicked and squirmed, raking razor-like talons across his opponent’s back. The aggressor screeched, releasing his grip and allowing his foe to flip to his left, tossing the larger molt onto the stony dirt.
“Dolnaraq! Barthoc!” said Tresset. “Enough. You can battle over the carcass later.”
Immediately, the two young reyaqc scrambled to their feet. “Yes, chieftain,” said one.
“As you say,” added the other, his voice winded, and blood dribbling from his back.
Tresset appraised the two nervous molts. “Dolnaraq, have you yet repaired Padnor’s vehicle?”
“No, Father. Not yet,” said the smaller of the two, his eyes alternating between Tresset and the dusty ground.
“Do it then.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” And then they were gone, marching quickly to their right, and then around the side of a small wooden building, and out of sight.
Tresset smiled as he stared at the coyote carcass, now left unclaimed on the rocky ground.
“Dolnaraq?” asked Donald with a curious twinkle to his pallid eyes.
Tresset shrugged. “Over the decades I’ve sired many sons. I was running out of names. Now, Dolnaraq, why are you here? I can only keep your companions safe for so long.”
“There’s a rogue in Las Vegas. Four deaths, and several near-deaths, all within the past several days. There may be others of which I’m unaware.”
Tresset chuckled. “A rogue, Dolnaraq. You know my opinion on rogues. They weed the human garden. You worry too much about humanity and not enough about the reyaqc.”
Yes, Donald knew all too well Tresset’s position on rogues. But this didn’t change anything. “Until we can reveal ourselves in a controlled manner, reyaqc survival depends on anonymity. A rogue threatens our secrecy, opens us to dangerous exposure. As usual, you misunderstand my motivations.”
Tresset bent and snatched a claw from the ground, perhaps half the span of a finger in length. He turned it from side to side examining it, and then slipped the piece into his left front pocket. “It’s not your motivation which is in doubt, Dolnaraq, but your judgment and ultimate loyalties.”
Donald hesitated for a moment, thought about his response, and then chose to remain on tack, leaving Tresset to his own biases. “The rogue. Do you have any thoughts as to who that might be?”
Tresset rose to his feet. Whatever issue he’d had concerning the claw was not something to be shared with Donald. “You want to know if anyone from this community has recently left for human civilization?” The reyaqc pondered this for a moment. Or, thought Donald, at least he made a show of pondering. With Tresset one could never be certain. So much was done for effect. Despite Tresset’s accusations, Donald was not the only one who wore a mask. “There is one,” offered Tresset finally. “A young male. Treleq. He left maybe five months ago, seeking to purge himself of animal essence and to become civilized like the great Donald Baker.”
Donald ignored the dig. “Did he take willing givers?”
Tresset scoffed. “You know there are none to spare. Maybe he sought to contact other city reyaqc, perhaps to share their givers for a time. And perhaps the radical change to his physiology caused him to lose his mind. These transitions do not always end so well as you proclaim, Dolnaraq.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Julia lay on a metal cot. The thin mattress was stained yellow and brown, smelled of musty animal, and the metal frame was flimsy and ill-balanced. But she had become weary. If ever she were to flee this place, she would need her strength. But flee to where? She was in the middle of the blazing desert, conceivably a hundred miles or more from any true civilization. The heat was merciless—only the small window air conditioner lowered the temperature to merely unbearable. Should she somehow escape this madness, how would she survive? No water, no vehicle, no idea even as to the direction of the nearest town; she’d likely be dead within the first twenty-four hours.
Wiping the dusty sweat from her forehead, she allowed her head to roll to her left. Shane sat against the far wall on the unfinished wood planked floor. His eyes were closed, his head down, but he wasn’t sleeping. Whenever there was a sound, his jaw tightened, his muscles flexed. Obviously, he was listening for something. Listening and thinking. But thinking of what?
Julia closed her eyes. She had plenty of thinking to do as well. The reyaqc of this compound, they were disturbing, gr
oss, and yet, amazing. The merging of DNA between species—how was that accomplished? There were genetic defects to be sure. Even in the short time she’d been here, she’d seen disproportioned or missing limbs, malformed digits, any number of minor, and not-so-minor, deformities. But this would surely be expected from a species that collected genetic material from multiple sources. That they were viable at all was the miracle.
She knew from talking with Donald Baker that the reyaqc prefer to draw “essence” from the spine. Julia hadn’t yet had the opportunity to analyze this process, but her guess was that the reyaqc drew somatic stem cells from the bone marrow. The plasticity or trans-differentiation of such stem cells might allow them to be manipulated by the reyaqc’s system and to somehow be incorporated into the existing genome.
Amazing!
From a medical standpoint, Julia imagined numerous applications, envisioned cures to any number of diseases. Parkinson’s, diabetes, maybe even cancer. If this strange ability to incorporate and manipulate cells could be reproduced…
Julia was stunned by the possibilities.
Julia was stirred from her contemplations as the short reyaqc, Tresset, entered the small space followed by a dust-blown Donald Baker. Two additional reyaqc remained just beyond the door. Tresset’s bodyguards, she supposed.
“Julia, Shane.” Donald stepped forward to the center of the room. His face was dusty, his hair in disarray, but the rubber-like skin was not reddened by the sun. “My intention was not that you should be confined. Our host is rather cautious.”
Julia eased herself into a sitting position. “If that was an apology, it’s not accepted. You had no right to imprison us.”
Donald’s nostrils flared, but his face remained impassive. She realized he no longer wore the colored contact lenses and tinted glasses. His eyes were an uneven white, like milk mixed with water. They were unnerving, inhuman. Julia had never felt comfortable with the man, and was now less so.
“Rights are an ambiguous thing,” said Donald. “They fluctuate from culture to culture, year to year, even generation to generation.” He turned his gaze to Shane, who still sat in the corner, forearms resting on his knees, staring at Donald through dead emotionless eyes. “Mr. Daws, it seems we have one potential suspect as to our rogue’s identity. A young reyaqc named Treleq. He left perhaps five months ago to live among the humans. He brought no givers.”
Shane gave an almost indiscernible nod. Julia had come to realize that the man was in serious mourning. “Okay,” he said through a sigh. “Any ideas on how to find him?”
Donald nodded. “Apparently, he’s quite handy with machinery. We can begin by checking auto shops located near the earlier attacks. Treleq may have sought employment at one of these.” He then returned his inhuman gaze to Julia. “I’m afraid you’ll need to endure the blindfold again. The location of this community must remain well guarded.”
Tresset stepped forward. His posture was one of confidence, arrogance even. Folding his ever-present sterile wipe cloth, and sliding it into his front right pocket, he said, “No, Dolnaraq. There will be no blindfolds. The humans are needed here.”
Julia’s heart leaped. She had the nearly uncontrollable urge to scream, but instead, only clenched her fists and leveled her gaze at Donald Baker.
In the corner, Shane dropped his head and muttered, “Oh boy. Here we go.”
Donald showed no sign of agitation, but simply addressed his companion in an even, businesslike tone. “Tresset, I promised the humans safe travel. You have willing givers here. There is no need to take these forcefully.”
“No, Dolnaraq. We have givers, but not enough. Many are faltering. Too many of us relying on too few of them.”
Donald locked eyes with his companion. Neither reyaqc blinked; neither moved for several seconds. Finally, Donald spoke. “Three of my personal givers accompanied me to Las Vegas. They are university students, intelligent, healthy, and enamored with the reyaqc. I’m certain they’d consent to give.”
The one called Tresset grunted. “I will accept these, of course. But we have a greater need for female donors. Yours, of course, would be male.” He then moved forward and knelt before Julia, placing one paw-like hand over hers. Though his appearance was frightful, Julia once again noticed a magnetism, a charisma in his bearing. “Woman, I understand this is foreign to you. Dolnaraq informed me that you have just recently learned of the reyaqc. You most likely find us repulsive, as honestly, we often do you. But never allow yourself to doubt this one thing—we do have the right to survive.”
Julia met his gaze, forcing herself to appear calm. The reyaqc’s words had been gentle, respectful. But there was an underlying tone; it was difficult to interpret. Unease? No. Contempt. This reyaqc held her—held all humans—in contempt. He would be cordial only so long as it suited his needs. “How can I know I won’t be killed in the process?” she asked.
Tresset offered a subtle smile and a slight nod. How very much like Donald this one was. “I give my word that we will do everything within our power to ensure your safety. Still, I make no guarantees.”
With this, Shane finally came out of his haze. “Jules, you don’t have to do this. Infusions don’t always go as planned. Trust me, I know from experience.”
Julia stared at Shane, at his troubled blue eyes, his hollow expression and his mop of white hair, and wondered to what experience he referred. She glanced at the doorway, at the two guards standing just beyond. What choice did she have? This creature wouldn’t let her go. She wasn’t being given an option. There were dozens of reyaqc here, and only her and Shane to oppose them. Even the human “givers” within the community would likely side with the reyaqc. No, she was trapped. The best she could hope for would be to control the circumstance in which they took her essence.
“No, Shane. If I understand Tony the Tiger here correctly, I either do this voluntarily, or have my DNA sucked from my body while I kick and scream like Mina Harker against fifteen Draculas. Of the two, I’d rather maintain what little control is left me.”
“Julia,” said Donald. “I had hoped for more civilized behavior from Tresset. I suppose I should have anticipated this.”
Julia leveled her gaze at the red-haired reyaqc. “You’ve drugged me, held me captive, blindfolded me and dragged me into this hell. Why should I expect anything more civilized from these reyaqc?”
* * * *
Donald and Tresset took Shane with them when they left the small room. Apparently, there was information they wanted from Shane concerning the rogue reyaqc. Though Julia tried to relax, tried even to get some sleep, conserve her energy in this ridiculous heat, she found herself incapable of inactivity. She was terrified, plain and simple. She tried not to show this; she would show no weakness to these beasts, but every moment was a struggle to maintain composure.
Julia started. There was a knock on the flimsy wooden door—tentative, almost inaudible above the constant hiss of the window air conditioner. “Hello, Dr. Chambers,” came the voice of a young woman. “My name is Minya. May I enter?”
Julia rose to a sitting position on the cot and unconsciously ran her fingers through her jet-black hair. “Do I have a choice?”
There was no response. Julia could see the girl’s shadow in the crack at the base of the door. This Minya, whoever she was, shifted from one foot to the other, but remained silent. Julia had the distinct impression she was nervous, that she didn’t know how to respond to Julia’s caustic question. She wondered if this was one of the human “givers.” Perhaps she’d come to prepare her for the taking of DNA. Julia closed her eyes, steeled herself for the coming molestation of her very being.
“Hello,” came the tiny voice again. “If I am disturbing you, I can come back another time.”
Julia almost accepted this offer, but no. This was going to happen. Why prolong the inevitable? Better now while she still had some small wit about her. “No. Come in. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
The door opened slowl
y. The girl peeked in, before stepping into the room. Julia withheld a startled gasp at the sight of her visitor. This was no human servant. Minya was covered in short golden brown fur. Her nose was tiny, the nostrils upturned. Her ears were somewhat elongated, but not drastically so. She wore a brown, loose-fitting smock, and held her hands together before her ball-like belly. The girl dropped her gaze to the floor and stood just within the doorway.
“You said your name is Minya?”
The young reyaqc nodded. “Yes, Dr. Chambers. Minya.”
“And you’re here to…?”
“To infuse. Yes.”
Julia blew air through her mouth. “Well, if you’re going to suck my DNA, we might as well be on a first name basis. Call me Julia.”
The girl kept her gaze to the floor. “That is kind, Dr. Julia. I hope I don’t frighten you unnecessarily.”
“Well, you might kill me or leave me comatose, but I’ll try not to act scared. How’s that?”
Still, the young reyaqc didn’t meet her gaze. “Dr. Julia, obviously you don’t want to do this. I will leave.” She turned as if to exit.
How very unlike Donald or Tresset. How unlike her current—and very incomplete—perception of the reyaqc. “Wait,” said Julia, though she didn’t quite know why. “You’re barely more than a girl.”
The reyaqc turned back toward Julia, but came no closer.
This was not the savage creature she’d expected to find. “Listen, uh, Minya. I’m still grappling with all of this. It’s a little beyond the genetics I learned in med school. Just give me a little time to process the idea.”