Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  ‘Make sure you let the fire investigator know,’ said Mitchell.

  It fitted his hypothesis. Someone was scared they were getting close. He glanced up to say something to Graham but saw he was using his mobile tablet to talk to someone. He looked upset. Mitchell took some satisfaction in the fact that having such advanced technology—which the police were denied—was not bringing him any pleasure.

  He broke the connection and turned to Mitchell.

  ‘I have to get back into the city. I’ll be taking your car.’

  ‘I may as well come.’

  ‘No,’ said Graham with an almost desperate tone. ‘No, I need to go alone.’

  ‘Something happened?’

  Graham looked torn and then nodded. ‘You’ll find out soon enough, it was your man Yates that found him.’

  ‘Found who?’ And whose death would pull you back with such urgency?

  ‘Paul Banner, the Purity Liaison for Utopia Genetics, has committed suicide.’

  With that he turned and hurried to the car, leaving Mitchell with the merest hint of a smile on his face.

  So, this is all Utopia Genetics.

  Chapter 4

  Mercedes

  ‘Bob Moses has been removed from the picture.’

  Mercedes sighed. These walls were a prison. What kind of a life would she have had if she had passed her nursing exams? She wouldn’t be here, a princess in a tower waiting for a prince who would never come. It was too late. The walls she had built herself were too high and too strong.

  There was no way in for anyone.

  ‘Mercedes?’

  ‘Sorry, I was thinking.’

  All I have is a genie that will carry out my every whim, my every command, my every slightest wish. Except to free her from her prison, from the tower. And all that remained was cruelty. She was both the captured princess and the evil stepmother. Perhaps she was lying to herself; it might be that she was the witch with a poisoned apple. What if she had never been Snow White? Or Aurora?

  ‘Mercedes?’

  She really shouldn’t drink so much in the evenings; the mornings were hard to think through.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Paul Banner’s primary contact has been removed.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And the assassin.’

  ‘Am I the princess in the tower or the evil stepmother?’

  Did he hesitate? Why not, he was only human underneath it all.

  ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘And hungover.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can arrange a masseur.’

  ‘You think I need relaxing?’

  ‘Things have been difficult recently. And you have one less person you can call friend because you just had him killed.’

  Mercedes snatched up a carved wooden animal from the table and flung it at the screen. She was denied the satisfying splintering of glass as it bounced off.

  ‘I recommend using stone or glass if you want to break something.’

  ‘You’re a fucking bastard, that’s what you are.’

  ‘I’m the only real friend you have.’

  ‘You’re just a genie, why not get back in your bottle and I’ll stopper it and live in peace.’

  ‘You seem to have forgotten that I have to be tricked back into the bottle. I won’t go of my own accord.’

  She screamed in wordless anger. She screamed again and again until her voice was hoarse and her head throbbed as if it was going to split.

  And there’s no one to hear me.

  ‘I’m just an ugly old witch with only spite to unleash on the world. I torture and kill children in the name of the future, but the future doesn’t care about me and what I do.’ Her voice croaked. ‘Everyone out there is afraid of the monsters that creep about and infect them. They are terrified that everyone they love will become a mindless freak and slaughter them in their beds.’

  She went to the window and slammed the side of her fist against it. ‘I’m the real monster, but they worship my image as their saviour. If they knew the truth...’

  ‘Do you want me to get someone up here to give you a good seeing to?’ said Xec. ‘It’s been a while. Sexual frustration can be very debilitating.’

  ‘You’re not a genie, you’re Satan. All you do is tempt me. I know what I should be doing, and I don’t need you to tell me what that is.’

  ‘Your wish is my command.’

  ‘Shut up!’ she shouted. ‘You think you’re so fucking clever. I’m the one who kept this business going.’

  Silence.

  ‘Make me a drink.’

  Silence.

  ‘Oh, that’s very mature.’

  Silence.

  ‘Fine, I’ll do it myself.’

  She wandered into the kitchen, grabbed some milk from the fridge and drank it from the bottle. Her mother would have killed her for doing that if she’d caught her. Her mother had died before the riots. Before any of this had happened. She had burned to death when her block caught fire. As far as Mercedes knew, her mother had not been one of the ones that had thrown themselves from windows, but then she hadn’t been there. It was easier to imagine someone falling unconscious and asphyxiating than being so terrified and desperate they did something so utterly horrifying rather than burn.

  She hadn’t even known it had happened until much later. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since she left home at sixteen. She had never said goodbye and her last words had been full of anger and hate.

  Morbid thoughts.

  The Purity had quarantined Chloe Dark’s parents. The chances were that she would never see either of them again.

  ‘What’s the status of our current assets?’

  The others had all died. The latest batch wouldn’t be any different. Newman had been a genius but he had been arrogant and slightly twisted. It was always a game to him: how much change could he introduce?

  His animal experiments had been grotesque, but they taught him the skills he needed. There was no difference in size between the sperm and egg of a mouse and those of a human. And the complexities of the DNA were no more, at least at the gross level. But mice did not live long lives and it was difficult for Newman to see what success he was really having.

  For some women, he had made every single egg non-viable with his experimentation. Sometimes they would substitute compatible embryos because any resulting physical differences could just be put down to the vagaries of genetics—unless anyone ever did a DNA match between child and parent. And by the time that happened, it wouldn’t matter.

  If it hadn’t been for S.I.D his plans would have worked out just fine.

  ‘Xec, what’s the status of our current assets?’

  Still no response. ‘Stop sulking, I’m serious.’

  ‘You told me to shut up.’

  ‘Because you’re an irritating git.’

  ‘And you’re an evil witch.’

  ‘How are they doing?’

  ‘Healthy.’

  ‘No sign of degeneration?’

  ‘Well, I’m just saying what it says here on this report. But if you want to go and check personally?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Is that “all right I accept what you’re saying”, or “all right yes I want to go and check for myself”?’

  ‘I’m not playing your games.’

  ‘Serious question.’

  ‘I accept what you’re saying.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  She sighed. ‘No, I’m an evil witch. How do you rate our chances of catching Chloe Dark?’

  ‘Very poor.’

  Mercedes nodded. ‘Agreed. She’s a pain in the butt. I really wish we could get our hands on her, but with both the police and the Purity after her I don’t think this is going to turn out well. We’ll have to kill her and get rid of all the evidence.’

  ‘And you think we’ll have more luck killing her than capturing her?’

  ‘It’s
a simpler goal for a start. She’s too much for our people to handle.’

  ‘I could request some additional favours.’

  ‘I don’t know about your favours, Xec. What do you have to give in return?’

  ‘I would never betray you.’

  ‘Didn’t Macbeth say something like that to the king?’

  There was that hesitation again. ‘I promise that nothing I have given, or will give, is ever going to hurt you, Mercedes.’

  ‘What’s the word of a wirehead worth? You’re not a machine, you don’t have a set of laws to enforce a morality on you.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to do what you always do, and have faith in me.’

  She drank the remains of the milk from the bottle and set it down.

  ‘Kill Chloe Dark.’

  Chapter 5

  Chloe

  It was the warmth she noticed first: a burning fire radiating heat against her legs. The air she was breathing was not frigid, although it was stuffy. The sound of burning wood crackling revealed some of the room around her. It wasn’t big, but filled with shadows of machinery. There was light beyond her eyelids but before she used her eyes, she snapped her fingers and saw the place more clearly. Some sort of fixed machine with pipes, the fire inside it. A big lawn-mower and other garden implements. No sign of the boy.

  She opened her eyes and sat up. She felt okay, except for the hunger and she was used to that. It needed to be dealt with but she could ignore it for the time being.

  The place looked like a garden shed, apart from the heater with the pipes. She didn’t think it was heating water, so it must be carrying hot air somewhere. She found a rusty nail lying on the floor and tapped it against the metal of the lawn mower. The higher pitched the sound, the better she could see. The visual scene became overlaid with edge highlights. Beyond the walls was the empty space that suggested outside, but in the direction of the pipes was another room, or enclosed space. The pipes led away with misty shapes of plants in rows.

  She stood. She was still dressed in the clothes Bob Moses had given to her. She liked the padded vest but she really needed proper clothes. She rubbed the chrome of the lawn mower and checked her face. She still had the white paint on it. She found a rag and started rubbing. A quick glance outside confirmed everywhere was covered with snow, which seemed to absorb her sounds, turning it into nothing as far as her acoustic sense was concerned.

  She stepped over to the pipes and tapped one with the nail. The echoes made the other room clearer, some sort of heated greenhouse. She had no idea what the plants were, but someone was keeping them warm with this furnace and that meant they would be coming back to stoke it at some point.

  Where was Dog?

  With nothing else to do she opened the door into the greenhouse and went through. It was colder in here. The space was big, at a guess at least three times the size of the entire plot of her home and garden.

  The thought of her home made her choke with tears. What were her parents thinking? Where were they? She knew the answer to that. The Purity would have quarantined them just as they should have done in the first place.

  Where was Melinda?

  She heard/saw Dog at the outer door. He was carrying something that did not reflect well, so must be soft. She waited until he had come through the door and shut it.

  ‘I’m through here!’

  He poked his head round the door and looked at her back.

  ‘How did you know it was me? Have you got a good nose too?’

  ‘No. I just knew.’

  ‘Fine, don’t tell me.’

  The scent of some sort of stew finally made it through the air to her entirely normal nose, which gave the necessary signals to her entirely dictatorial stomach. She spun round and leapt the distance back to the door where he stood.

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Give me the food.’

  ‘A please is considered polite,’ he said holding it behind his back.

  ‘If you don’t give me that right now I’ll dislocate both your legs.’

  ‘Do that and I’ll spill it.’

  ‘Please!’ she said.

  He grinned and brought the saucepan round to the front. It smelled divine. She grabbed it and brought it to her lips and began to drink it down. After a few moments she had to stop.

  ‘Oh god, this is delicious.’

  She brought it back to her lips and drank again. After most of the liquid was gone she chewed her way through the beef, potatoes, carrots and peas. Finally she resorted to scooping the remainder with her hand then wiping every surface with her fingers and licking it off.

  Dog eyed her waist. ‘And people say I’m greedy. If I’m not mistaken, I can see a bulge in your stomach.’

  Chloe was mortified and looked down. She couldn’t see anything but she felt very heavy and full. A wave of tiredness went through her and she yawned. ‘I need to sleep.’

  Everything went black.

  She came to back in the shed part with the fire still radiating warmth. Her body claimed it was hungry again, but it was lying. She felt a warm strength in her limbs.

  Dog was curled up by the door. He opened his eyes the moment she moved.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Better.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ he said.

  ‘Lucky?’

  ‘Definitely, although both Delia and I are luckier than you.’

  ‘Who’s Delia and what are you talking about?’

  ‘Well, Delia and I can pass for human. The freak-boy is a bloody monstrosity, but decent enough once you get to know him. But you, I mean, look at you.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you see a mirror in here? How am I supposed to look at myself? And who’s Delia and the freak-boy? You’re not making any sense.’

  ‘Delia is—’

  ‘And what’s the time? Are those clothes you brought for me?’ She indicated the pile of material he had dumped by the door.

  ‘It’s about lunchtime and yes, those are clothes I brought for you. But you have to listen—’

  ‘Talk while I’m dressing.’

  He gathered up the clothes and passed them over. She examined them. ‘These are men’s clothes and about a hundred sizes too big.’

  ‘It’s all I could find. They were in the kitchen with the stew. I’m guessing he lives alone and looks after his plants.’

  ‘He’s going to be pissed off when he finds his lunch and clothes gone.’

  ‘It happens.’

  ‘And he’s going to follow your trail here.’

  ‘No, I disguised the direction.’

  She pulled on the shirt first after folding back her extras. They were longer again and absolutely refused to lie flat. The upper joint poked up above her shoulders by an inch now.

  ‘You were saying I was lucky,’ she said pulling the shirt closed. It almost wrapped around her a second time and came down to her knees. Dog found a roll of twine and handed it to her. She measured out a length and used it as a belt. She rolled up the sleeves.

  ‘Because you have wings,’ said Dog. ‘That’s really cool.’

  She stared at the massive thick trousers then up at Dog. ‘Wings? What are you talking about?’

  She pulled them on and set about using more twine to tie them at her waist then pull the legs double and tie them in that position.

  ‘You have wings.’

  ‘I don’t have wings.’

  ‘What do you think those things on your back are?’

  ‘They’re not wings.’

  Dog just stared at her. There was a jumper which was nice and thick. It went over everything and hid most of her. Another length of twine as a belt made it almost look intentional. Almost. ‘I must look like a damn scarecrow.’

  ‘With wings.’

  ‘I don’t have wings. I’m just a freak and I’m going to die.’

  ‘Not unless someone actually kills you, no, you’re not.’

  ‘Yes, someone like Detective Inspector Mitchell. Ironic really,
I admired him for what he did killing freaks.’

  Once more Dog just stared at her. ‘Admired him?’

  ‘Of course. He’s helping keep the world safe from freaks like me.’

  ‘You’re not a freak.’

  She pointed over her shoulder at her back. ‘You said it: wings. Normal humans don’t have wings.’

  ‘I know you’re not normal, but you’re not a freak. I’m not, Delia’s not, even Jason isn’t, though he looks really weird.’

  She sighed. ‘Look, this has been great, but I don’t have a lot of time. I need to rescue my friend and the other girls who have been kidnapped. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Chloe heard a shout and outside the world became vivid. Some large buildings, trees and a man with a gun. Dog looked as well, he’d heard the voice.

  ‘Your farmer is coming,’ she said. ‘I think you may have overestimated your abilities. Oh, and he’s got a gun.’

  ‘We can split up and then meet up later.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said, barely thinking about what he’d said, and flung open the door. The clothes hampered her movements but she could still run. In the light of the clear day she saw the pinnacle tower in the centre of Manchester. As long as she could see it she would know which way she was going, and she could always climb up a building.

  The farmer was coming in at an angle trying to ready his gun as he moved. Chloe set off directly towards the tower. It could only be a few miles. The gunshot overwhelmed her ears and blurred out everything, but she could see just fine. She leapt a fence, then up on to a building. Her feet were still bare and the masonry tore at her skin but she was up and over before the next volley went off.

  She had no idea where Dog had gone and although she had been grateful for his help—especially the stew—she was glad he was gone. He was clearly nuts.

  She had a job to do.

  Chapter 6

  Mitchell

  ‘That’s stirred up the wasps’ nest,’ said Yates, grinning.

  Mitchell nodded. They were once more seated in a car, this time located in one of the back corners of the police car park.

  ‘You found him?’

  ‘Yes, I was following up on the information I got from the Biotech scientist, Kieran Mortimer. It seems they supplied an interesting selection of riffy-related chips to their parent company.’