It seemed like the best idea. Harry went over to the couch, where Istvan sat in a miserable ball of porcine humanity, his mouth moving but no words coming out. “What happened?” asked Harry, after taking a seat beside him. When Istvan didn’t answer, he gently shook him by the shoulder. “C’mon, it’s us. You can tell us.”
“They came,” Istvan replied after a long silence. He licked his lips. “They came. They wanted to take me. There were four of them, all the same as Overton. I saw them... they came in and used weapons and...”
His voice trailed away and he started to weep. What could anyone say in this awful situation? Out there lay an enemy, fast and deadly, and it seemed as though a war would break out at any moment...
Anastasia must have heard it first. It was the sound of a steel pin being pulled. She screamed “Get down!”
A second later, a grenade whistled through the window and went off not five feet from them. Milliseconds before the blast, Harry threw his body over that of his wife’s and hoped they’d survive. Then the blast happened and he knew no more.
“Harry, wake up.”
The voice—it had not come from Anastasia. Groaning, Harry opened his eyes and saw Istvan standing in front of him. “Are you okay?”
A nod, quick and sharp, came from the little man. “I am okay, but your wife... she is gone.”
Pain forgotten in an instant, Harry leaped to his feet, adrenaline fueled by anger coursing through his veins. “Where... who...”
“I saw them,” Overton said wearily. He dragged himself over to where they lay. “There were two of them, imperfect clones of me.”
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry wondered why he hadn’t been able to smell the enemy. Overton seemed to read his mind as he said “They were wearing containment suits. It masked their body odor.”
Clever and dangerous, the enemy had just played their hand and the stakes had gone sky high. Overton informed them he’d called headquarters. “I called it in... told them to be on the alert—”
“They won’t be wearing containment suits in the city,” Harry interrupted, rage practically boiling over. “They don’t smell like us or act like us... but they may fool some of your men.”
“That’s why I warned them. Leo’s there... he might be at risk, too.” Blinking, he asked, “Where’s your wife?”
“They took her.”
Although he’d been injured in the blast, Harry felt his body begin to heal. His bones crackled as did his joints, and soon the pain left. In its place was a cold fire, the fire of vengeance. “I have to find her.”
With a grunt, Overton levered his body off the floor, swayed unsteadily, and bent over, panting. “We don’t know where she is.”
A second later, his cellphone rang, and before he could say anything, the sound of Jason’s voice, frightened beyond belief, came through loud and clear. “They’re here, man, they’re here...”
Silence followed, and Overton redialed the number, but only a busy signal sounded. “Does your car still work?” Harry asked.
“It should.”
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven: The Search Continues
By the time they reached Manhattan, it was already six in the evening, and the traffic rush had slowed things to a crawl. Dusk falling along with the return of the rain didn’t help matters or tempers, either, and while Overton beeped his horn in frustration, the other drivers yelled back at him like what’s your problem and can’t you see I’m driving here?
The situation went from bad to worse when they neared headquarters. Overton let out a curse once he saw the police cordon around the building. A group of harried officers were trying to keep a sizable crowd from traversing the wooden barrier. “We’re too late.”
It seemed to be that way. The crowd shifted restlessly. In addition, the reporters were interviewing everyone in sight and the photographers were snapping pictures left, right and center. Everyone pressed for details in loud and very rude voices. When Harry ran up to the scene, the cameras swung his way. A police officer spotted him and said, “This way.”
Overton flashed his badge. “I’m in charge here.”
His reply earned him a look of disbelief and the officer immediately reached for his pistol. “You were here thirty minutes ago. I remember your face.”
“That was an imposter.”
“Yeah, how do you know?” Disbelief switched to doubt on the officer’s face as he pulled out his gun and leveled it at Overton’s heart. “Prove it.”
“Take a whiff.”
It may have sounded like a dumb thing to say, but the officer inhaled and then put away his weapon. “Yeah, okay, you just stink of sweat. I was one of the first on the scene and saw them come in. I got off a few shots, got close enough to smell them. They stank like wet dogs—dirty wet dogs. Monsters, all of them looked like monsters, except the ones who were fakes, like you.”
“That’s how you know it’s them,” Overton put in and ran his hand over his head in a quick, nervous gesture. “I have to check with my boss. He’ll make a statement soon, but for now, keep these people away from here!”
Authority, Harry thought, as the cop turned back to his duties. Either you had it or you didn’t. They ran inside and found the lobby awash in blood and bodies. Some of the survivors were in the process of helping the other wounded. Everyone wore dazed and confused expressions, but there was no time to think about their plight.
A number of clones lay on the floor, along with creatures only a mad scientist could have envisioned. Allenby was most creative. He’d developed fine killing machines, expendable and totally lethal.
Overton went over to one of the survivors and spoke with him briefly. Usually, he wore an implacable expression, but now he returned, his face a study in rage. “My man just told me what happened. They knew exactly where to go and what to do. First, they took all the computer information we had, everything on ASR and everyone connected to the project.”
Clever, but wouldn’t they have backups? That was Harry’s first thought and he voiced it. “But, you made backup files, didn’t you? Someone must have copies of the files on hard disc or something. I mean, isn’t this standard operating—”
Anger coated each of the words he heard from Overton. “Standard operating procedure doesn’t apply here. They were smart. When ASR worked with us, they also had access to our encryption process. We changed the passwords and links, but still, they knew. They introduced a computer virus. If we try to access anything save basic programs, the entire system shuts down. This guy is clever.”
“What about your boss—”
“They killed the director,” Overton interrupted. “That means no one is in charge for now. Washington has to know about this.”
They did, but they’d have to hear about it later on. Harry made for the stairs. “Follow me. We need information first.”
Downstairs, after swiping his pass card against the wall, Overton opened the door to the monitoring room. Jason and Maze were there, huddled against the far wall, and Maze burst into tears once they entered. “It was horrible,” she declared. “They came, ten of them, and they all looked like him!”
She pointed to Overton. “I thought this kind of crap wouldn’t happen!” After that, she broke down again, crying uncontrollably.
While Jason tried to comfort her, he gave out the details in a half-dead voice. Overton—the fake one—had come in, but without a pass he couldn’t enter. “I smelled something funny, even through the door, and then he started to say he’d rip us up if we didn’t let him in. We locked the door, but the tapes showed...”
His voice trailed away, but gently letting go of Maze, he got up and pressed a few buttons on the computer. “These are the security tapes.”
Replaying the events, the tapes showed five fake Overtons shooting every agent in sight on the first three floors of the building. Mere seconds after they opened fire, other monstrosities that resembled mixtures of badgers and panthers entered through th
e ground floor and savaged the remaining agents. The tapes cut out shortly after.
“I’ll check on Leo,” Overton said, and ran out the door.
Maze got up to wander over to the computer. Falling into the chair, she held her head in her hands and shook. Jason came over to hug her and neither of them said a word until Overton returned, his face a mix of uncertainty and loss. “Leo’s gone.”
“Gone, as in... what?” Harry left the question hanging.
“Gone as in I don’t know if they ate him or he escaped, that’s what.”
A pall settled over the room. Had Anastasia not been kidnapped, Harry would have grieved more over the loss of life, but as it was, all he felt was a cold fury combined with helplessness.
At the bottom of it, he felt guilt and the terrible weight of responsibility. It was as if Fate had determined things. He’d done the research. He’d done the simulations and gone beyond what others had. If he hadn’t started his quest, then none of these events would have come to pass.
Still, it was too late for him to take anything back, and his sense of reality kicked in. Even if he hadn’t gone down this path, others had. He wasn’t responsible for their insanity. There came a time in everyone’s life where they had to deal with matter of prime importance and do it in the here and now. This was one of them. “They have Anastasia,” he said.
Tears started once again from Maze’s eyes. “Oh god, no... where did they take her?”
A pounding began behind his temples and he furiously rubbed his forehead, hoping the pressure would take the pain away. It didn’t, but concentrating on the situation, he was able to shunt the pain to a different corner of his mind. Where could they have gone?
Destinations—they were practically limitless—and right now he was limited in what he could do. His transponder wouldn’t be working, but Maze had mentioned something before about power stations, surges and spikes in energy output...
“Harry,” Jason’s voice broke through his reverie. “You’re zoning out. Are you okay?”
Blinking, Harry nodded. His mind cleared and he focused on what had to be done. “I need your help. I need to find a location. You remember we were talking about power surges?”
Maze nodded. “Yeah, but—”
“Give me everything you’ve got.”
Immediately, Jason grabbed a seat at another computer station, but stopped typing once the screen went black. “What in the hell...”
“Computer virus,” Harry replied. “Allenby planned for everything.”
Maze grunted. “Yeah, he did, but he didn’t plan on memory.” She tapped the side of her pocket and Jason did the same thing. “You can’t erase these. Memory sticks rule.”
Smart... “So what did you find?”
“Before the system went down, we were tracking things, mainly power emanations.”
She pulled a memory stick from her pocket. She then left the room, returning with another computer and plugged it in. “This one’s an older model. I got it from storage. It wasn’t tied into the main system, so it’s clean.”
Booting it up, she inserted the memory stick, and soon a series of graphs sprang up. Two of them showed larger spikes in power than the others. “Before things happened,” she shuddered, “we were looking at power plants. The FBI said they checked out.”
Harry swung his eyes to Overton, who nodded. “What she said. They’re from power plants and factories, and they check out, all except these two. One’s at Lake Shasta. The other is from a farm out in Iowa.”
Thinking about the spikes, nothing made much sense. Iowa wasn’t known for anything save farmland and farmers. For anything of that magnitude to be out there was a dead giveaway. Harry put the question on the table. “When’s the nearest flight out?”
The charter plane, courtesy of the FBI, landed at Ames Airport two hours later. Harry and Overton disembarked, flanked by two other agents, and found a car waiting for them. They drove out to the location only to find a simple farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
Along the way, Harry wondered how they’d managed to get his handler’s DNA and then chastised himself for being so naïve. The answer was simplicity itself. DNA was contained in all parts of the body, the skin and the hair being two prime sources. Theoretically speaking, it would only take a single hair to make a clone.
It seemed as though Overton had come to the same conclusion, but he added some extra information. “Just before we cut ties with ASR, they came around and tested all of us once more. They took skin and hair samples.”
Which were more than enough for Allenby to work his unholy magic, thought Harry with a trace of bitterness. Overton swiveled his head around. “Do they have your DNA?”
“It wouldn’t be hard to find. I shed.” He leaned back in his seat and covered his eyes. This had become a nightmare. What lay in wait—Allenby—was an even larger, more dangerous one.
“Get ready,” Overton’s voice interrupted. “We’re here.”
He’d stopped a few hundred feet from a farmhouse. Exiting the car and taking a good look around, Harry tested the air with his nose, found nothing at first save the sweet smell of corn and the heady aroma of wheat, but then another smell cut through, something familiar and yet not. It was faint, but there all the same.
A second later, a few other smells, these ones totally alien, smothered the more familiar scent, and a shudder of fear ran through him. If this was what he thought it was...
“Tell your men to get ready,” Harry said as his claws sprang out. “Something’s coming... and I don’t have to tell you what’s going to happen.”
Overton gave the warning. Heeding it, his men took out their pistols, swiveling their heads in every direction and walking slowly, weapons held at the ready.
A lone figure emerged from the farmhouse. Wearing a pair of jeans and a torn t-shirt, it waved in their direction. “Hi,” it said in an absurdly bright tone. “Welcome to the party.”
No wonder the first smell had seemed so familiar. It was another transgenic cat-man. Harry noticed this copy had a gray coat with black spots, and he was roughly the same height and build.
However, the resemblance ended at the long and conical horn growing out of its forehead. Unicorns, anyone?
“Hey,” the thing called out. In contrast to its cheery voice, its body language suggested it was spoiling for a fight as its eyes shone with an unholy green glow and it tensed for battle. “You didn’t show up just to say hello, didja?”
It took a step forward and waved its hands in a come-and-fight gesture. So much for the welcome mat, Harry thought. If this thing wanted a battle, it would get one, and he was only too willing to oblige. “If you’re here to stop me, you’re not going to walk away.”
A smirk formed on the clone’s face. “I don’t have to stop you. I just have to slow you down.”
“I’ve got this,” Overton said as he pointed his pistol. His men did the same.
“You’ve got other problems to worry about,” the false cat-man said and pointed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw no less than six combo creatures that looked like mixes of centipedes and bears rushing toward them. “Look out!” he cried, and the FBI team pivoted around to take them on, guns blazing.
A snarl signaled imminent danger, and he turned just in time to see his opponent leap forward, claws out and arms moving fast.
With a quick step to the side, Harry avoided its rush and lashed out with a slash of his own that opened up a gaping wound on the creature’s side. The other being fought back, though, and they traded blow for blow and slash for slash.
Through it all, Harry received a number of wounds, each one bloodier than the last. They only served to enrage him, and finally, he grabbed his opponent in a headlock, ripped off the horn, and proceeded to ram said horn into the thing’s heart. The cat-man screamed in agony, then let out a gurgle. It sank to the ground, blood bubbling from its mouth. “Where is she?” Harry shouted. “Where’s my wife?”
&nb
sp; “Wouldn’t you... like to know,” the creature whispered before falling silent. It twitched and lay still.
Harry swayed, panting, his wounds fairly deep but not life-threatening, and through the pain he felt his body begin to regenerate. A shout from behind him came. “Hey, we got ’em!”
Tiredly turning around, Overton and the other men ran up. “Are you okay?” one of them asked.
“I’ll make it.”
A second later, adrenaline rush over, the world spun around at an impossible angle, and he fought to stay conscious. That last part proved to be most difficult, and as his perception of reality faded out, he felt his body hit the ground. As soon as he did, the smells of blood, dirt, and then ridiculously, the distinctive aroma of pasta and oil, entered his nostrils.
As abruptly as the odors of an Italian eatery had entered, though, they soon faded. “Nose is playing tricks on me,” he mumbled to no one in particular.
Overton was staring at him curiously. “What are you talking about?”
Harry wanted to reply, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He didn’t even have the strength to move his lips. Anastasia... I love you.
It was a decent thing for him to think. It was... and then the hard earth came up to meet him, and he knew no more.
Darkness, he awoke in darkness. He felt movement, slow and rhythmical, and realized he had to be on the airplane. Blinking, he sat up, and while his body ached, it was a lot less painful than before, and he gave thanks his reengineered body healed so quickly. The stocky figure of Overton walked over.
“I dimmed the lights so you could get some rest. We took off about ninety minutes ago,” he said. “We’ll be back at JFK soon.”
Didn’t they smell... ? “Did you ever see Leo?”
Even in the darkness he made out the features of Overton wrinkling in confusion. “Leo, what are you talking about? He’s gone.”
“I thought I... never mind.” Harry shook his head and came to a full state of alertness. “You didn’t come back just to give me an ETA. What happened?”
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