Better Than Human

by Matt Stark

  She giggled: That’s silly, Daddy.

  Just do it for me.

  Okay – I’m doing it now.

  What can you feel?

  Hair.

  She was still giggling – that was good.

  Rub your hand all over your head like you do when you wash it.

  More giggling. Daddy, you’re funny.

  Just do it for me, Lucy.

  Okay.

  Sam waited for five long seconds.

  Find anything?

  No, Daddy, just hair.

  Sam let out a huge breath.

  Then Lucy was talking fast and loud in his head – her voice suddenly frightened again like she’d realized why her Daddy was so interested in her hair.

  I was with the others. Daddy, they did terrible things to them. They were going to do them to me too. But the doctor gave me an injection, and I woke up somewhere else – in a car, I think. But I couldn’t see because they’d covered up my eyes. Daddy, I don’t know where I am.

  Sam was picking up on Lucy’s fear again. He breathed through his nose trying to calm himself. Lucy had been in Vauxhall Cross with the other post-humans. But she’d been moved. Why? He shook his head. He needed to focus on where, not why, while he still had time.

  Lucy, can you go to the window and tell me what you see?

  There was a whimper, then:

  I can’t. The man tied me to the bed.

  Sam swore. He ducked his head and ran his hands through his hair, pushing down a surge of anger.

  Have you seen him again?

  Yes, he brought me some water and told me I had to keep quiet. Sam felt her fear again and breathed deeply. He couldn’t afford for either of them to have a panic attack now.

  Daddy. Daddy, please, I’m scared. Can you get me out of here?

  His throat tightened. His gut told him something very bad would happen to Lucy if he didn’t find her soon. He felt the panic grip him again and pushed it down. He didn’t want to transmit his fear to Lucy. But he was scared. How was he going to find her? She could be anywhere.

  He shook his head.

  No, not anywhere. Peter had kept her in Vauxhall Cross for a reason. It was the most secure building in London. If he had to move her it would only be to somewhere safe. He clicked his fingers. A safe house. A JIS safe house.

  Daddy, are you there?

  Just a second, Lucy.

  JIS, or MI5 as they were then, used to have twelve safe houses scattered through the city. Ten in central London, and two in the suburbs. He didn’t know where the current JIS safe houses were, but he guessed the distribution would be pretty much the same – the majority close to Vauxhall Cross.

  Okay, Lucy, this is important. Can you hear any traffic?

  What do you mean, Daddy?

  Can you hear any cars?

  There was a pause then. No.

  Are you sure?

  Yes, Daddy.

  No way was she in central London. At this time of day the traffic would be deafening.

  Okay – can you hear anything else?

  Another pause and then:

  I can hear a bird’s singing.

  That confirmed it. Nowadays bird life was all but absent in central London. Lucy was in the sticks. It wasn’t a specific location, but it was a start. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind and stop the power from flaring up again. Getting it under control last time had taken a lot out of him. He isn’t sure he would be able to do it again. He blew out another breath.

  She was in a JIS safe house somewhere in Greater London. Ten years ago that would have been enough to find her. He was one of only two agents who knew the location of every safe house in London – Craig had been the other. He would have only had a couple of locations to check. But now Lucy could be anywhere in a hundred square miles.

  He ran his hand through his hair. Average traffic speed through central London was about seven miles an hour this time of day. If he knew how long Lucy had been in the car it would give him a very rough idea of distance.

  Lucy, after you woke up how long were you in the car?

  I don’t know, not long.

  He frowned. How does a ten-year-old measure time? Then he had it.

  Was the radio on?

  Yes, Capital Radio I think.

  Okay, do you know how many songs played while you were in the car?

  It wouldn’t be exact but at least it might give him an idea.

  Yes. They played District 3, Five Seconds of Summer. Then they were some crummy adverts. After that the DJ did a competition and then played After Romeo.

  Most pop songs were three minutes max; add that to the adverts and the DJ wittering away for a while… probably no more than thirty minutes. So Lucy had travelled maybe four miles after she woke up. It didn’t help that much. He needed more information.

  Lucy, can you hear anything right now?

  No.

  He could hear her crying. His stomach tightened. He didn’t want to push her, but there might be something distinctive like a church bell or a mosque nearby. It was a long shot but he couldn’t think of any other way to narrow down her location.

  Are you sure, honey? It’s important.

  No…wait. I heard a train a while ago. Does that count?

  Before Sam could answer he heard three loud thuds. At first he thought someone was knocking on Buller’s office door – then realized it was coming from wherever Lucy was.

  Hey, keep it quiet in there, brat. Otherwise I’ll have to come in and you don’t want that.

  Sam nearly lost it. He pulled back his power just before it was too late.

  Lucy… Lucy, are you okay?

  At first there was no reply and he thought she’d been taken. Then he heard sobbing – it broke his heart.

  Lucy – tell me what’s happening. Did he hurt you? Sam’s throat was tight.

  No, Daddy. She was still sobbing. I’m just scared he will.

  Sam had to stay calm. He didn’t want Lucy to realize how scared he was. She was freaked out enough already.

  Are you okay, Daddy?

  I’m okay, honey. His mind was racing. He had to…

  Why do you have such scary pictures in your mind?

  Sam jerked as Lucy interrupted his thoughts. And for a moment her question confused him. Then he realized she was seeing his back thoughts – thoughts he wasn’t transmitting to her – and his blood went cold. After ten years of torture in a Beijing prison Sam’s mind was probably packed with horror-show images he wouldn’t wish on anyone – let alone his ten-year-old daughter. The thought of her seeing all that made him physically sick. Trying not to panic he sent a thought back:

  Don’t worry about them. They’re not real. Just like a scary movie. Like Nightmare on Elm Street.

  Sam had no idea if Lucy had seen the old film or would buy the transparent lie – but it was all he could think of. His mind was busy desperately trying to narrow the search. So far he knew Lucy was in a JIS safe house in the London suburbs, near a main-line station. It was an improvement on a few minutes ago, but not enough to find her.

  Daddy, get me out of here.

  He swallowed.

  I will, Lucy… I just need….

  Suddenly Sam couldn’t feel Lucy’s presence. His mouth went dry.

  Lucy? Lucy? Are you there?

  But his mind was silent. She was gone.

  Chapter 30

  Sam felt a wave of panic run through him – the link with Lucy was broken. He had no idea how to get it back, and there was no way he could find her on what he knew.

  “Sam?” It was Craig.

  Sam jerked around.

  Craig was looking at Sam like he’d grown a pair of horns. Jean and Buller stood motionless like a couple of waxwork dummies behind Craig, while the hostages cowered against the far wall.

  “Where is Lucy? Tell me now,” said Sam.

  “I don’t know.”

  Sam flung Craig back against the wall with a flick of his mind.

&nb
sp; “Tell me!”

  He hit the wall hard and fell to the floor, a few feet from the terrified hostages, with his arm at an unnatural angle. He lay still for a brief moment then took a sharp breath in and got up, straightening his broken arm as he did. Then he walked toward Sam, the cuts on his face healing.

  “You can’t hurt me, Sam,” he said, smiling.

  “Just tell me where she is. I can keep throwing you against that wall all day long.”

  Craig walked up close to Sam.

  “Lucy is dead.”

  “She’s alive, you son of a bitch. You faked the video.”

  Craig shook his head. “I didn’t fake it, Sam. It’s real. That was her body in the mortuary, I swear.”

  “Stop lying!” screamed Sam, hurling Craig ten feet across the room into the wall. His body fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Shit,” said Sam, starting forward. He needed Craig alive. He’d pulled back before Craig hit the wall. But he’d still hit it hard enough to break every bone in his body. If he were dead Sam would never find Lucy. But he needn’t have worried. Before Sam took two steps, Craig was already getting to his feet. Sam walked over to him and smacked his hand on Craig’s forehead; Craig didn’t resist. Sam closed his eyes. A moment later he dropped his hand. He couldn’t hear Craig’s thoughts. His power had gone again.

  “I just spoke to her, Craig,” said Sam. “She’s in a JIS safe house somewhere in London.”

  Craig shook his head.

  “You’re hallucinating.”

  Sam clenched his fists and blew out hard through his nostrils. But he managed to keep himself in check this time. He was unsure how much to tell Craig. But with his telepathy off he needed his help, and Craig couldn’t help him without information.

  “I told you. I can hear her thoughts.”

  “Sam, your daughter is dead. You have to accept that.”

  “How do you know?”

  Craig took a sharp breath in then looked Sam in the eye.

  “Because I saw her dead body, my friend.”

  “On the video?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you didn’t see her for yourself?”

  “No… but Jean did.”

  As Craig said her name Jean jerked, rubbed her eyes, then looked at Sam.

  “It was Lucy, – without a doubt.”

  They both seemed sincere. Maybe they believed Lucy was dead, but they were wrong.

  Sam turned back to Craig.

  “Do you think Lucy’s death could have been faked? Not by you – necessarily.”

  Craig frowned as if the thought had never occurred to him.

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  Sam’s jaw clenched.

  “Just tell me – could it have been faked or not?”

  “I don’t know – I guess it’s possible. JIS has drugs that mimic death.”

  Sam nodded. All he’d needed was for Craig to acknowledge it was a possibility.

  “Do you know the location of the JIS safe houses?” he said, changing tack.

  “Why?” Craig was frowning again.

  “Just answer me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lucy is in one of them.”

  Craig opened his mouth to speak.

  “Just humour me. If she was alive which one would Peter move her to?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “She’s about a half-hour drive from Vauxhall Cross, within earshot of a main-line rail station.”

  Craig scratched his head.

  “Highgate, that’s the only safe house that fits, but…”

  “What’s the address?”

  “322 Archway Road.”

  That was all he needed. He started to make for the door but Craig blocked his path.

  “She’s gone, Sam. Anyway, have you forgotten Peter and half of JIS Special Forces are waiting outside the front door?”

  Sam stopped dead. He had been behaving as if he still had his power. It wouldn’t have mattered who was outside then. But it had gone, and he was back to being straight Sam Barrick.

  “I know a way,” said Jean. “There are scores of tunnels underneath central London, from Whitehall to Vauxhall Cross. They’ve been there since before the Second World War. We used them to get in and out of JIS Medical before I got the job as a porter.”

  Sam didn’t want to take Jean. He didn’t trust her or Craig. But he needed her knowledge.

  “Will you show me?” he said.

  She glanced at Craig. He nodded.

  “Okay, Sam,” he said. “You’re wrong about Lucy – but if this is what it takes to convince you then let’s do it.”

  They all made to leave.

  “What about him?” said Craig, tilting his head toward Buller.

  Sam felt like it was a test of their new alliance. He looked at the Prime Minister. He was still in the trance Sam had induced. He was unlikely to be of much use to Sam now. But did he deserve to die? Peter had organized the experiments on the post-humans, Sam was sure of that, but the PM’s hands still had blood on them. He might not have known the details but it was done in his name.

  Sam clenched his jaw, aware that Craig and Jean were watching him. Without his power he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way – with his Glock or his bare hands. He took a deep breath into his chest and blew it out. No. Lucy was in danger. The daughter he’d never seen was relying on him. If he didn’t get his arse into gear he might never see her.

  “Leave him. We don’t have the time to waste.”

  Craig nodded. Sam thought he heard Jean murmur Thank God under her breath.

  “Lead the way,” he said to Jean.

  He glanced at Buller as he left the room. Would he have killed him? He didn’t know – but some part of him was glad that he didn’t have to find out.

  Chapter 31

  12.30 p.m. Sunday 1st February

  Sam, Craig and Jean walked quickly through the dimly lit, damp tunnels, their footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. After the chaos in Number Ten it felt eerily quiet. But while his environment had calmed, the mental chaos in Sam’s mind hadn’t. His mind was spinning. His world had been turned upside down so many times in the last few hours he felt like he might collapse under the strain. But at least now he had a clear purpose. Find Lucy. Find his daughter, and protect her.

  It took about thirty minutes to reach Euston Station. The tunnel ended in a metal door, which opened directly into a white-tiled corridor in Euston Station’s underground – the equivalent of the New York subway. They got on the tube, as Londoners liked to call it, to Highgate, chose an empty carriage and sat down, Jean next to Sam and Craig opposite. As they pulled out of Euston Sam rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing that had been building up for the last ten minutes. He was worrying about Lucy – imagining every sordid scenario – every sick thing her captor might be doing to her, when what he needed was to work out how he was going to rescue her, and make sure she was never put in danger like this again. That’s what he should have been doing – but his mind just wanted to play him clips from Fright Night. After a few more minutes he gave up and turned his attention to Craig – the bearded freak opposite him. He was a mystery, and trying to work him out might just distract Sam from his mental horror show for a while.

  Craig Glaser was the most amazing man Sam had ever seen – if he was even a man anymore. The sound of Craig’s spine and skull smacking against Buller’s wall was something Sam would never forget. The impact should have killed Craig – no question. Sam’s enhanced senses had sensed the parietal bone in Craig’s skull shatter, along with half a dozen vertebrae. He’d sensed Craig’s aorta split open like a sliced banana and blood jet out in Craig’s chest cavity. Craig had fallen to the floor dead. Sam was sure of that. But seconds later he was on his feet.

  Sam stared at Craig’s bearded face. His eyes were closed and he looked oddly peaceful. At first he’d thought Craig looked older, but realized now it was that cave-man beard, and probably the after-effects of h
ealing Pink Perm’s gunshot wound. He had looked like shit after that. But right now Craig’s skin was… glowing.

  Sam rubbed his forehead. The truth was, Craig hadn’t aged a day in ten years. His regenerative capacity had to wear out eventually – he couldn’t live forever – but how long did he have? Fifty, a hundred, five hundred years? Who knew? Sam blew out a breath. He could see why Peter was so scared. If only a million people had Craig’s ability civilization would collapse.

  An image of Lucy’s dead body appeared suddenly and brutally in Sam’s mind, taking his breath for a moment. He pushed it away but knew it would be back soon. Thinking wasn’t working as a distraction. Maybe quizzing Craig would.

  “Why would Peter move Lucy to a JIS safehouse?” he said quickly before the horror film had a chance to restart.

  Craig opened his eyes but didn’t answer. His expression lay somewhere between annoyance and sympathy.

  “I know you don’t believe she’s alive,” said Sam. “Just humour me.”

  Craig had a habit now of pausing before he spoke and measuring his words. Together with the Marlboro Man roughness, it gave everything he said a sense of extra gravitas or menace; Sam wasn’t sure which.

  “Leverage,” he replied eventually, as if the words were being dragged out of him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’d want you by the balls. Just in case.”

  “In case what?”

  Craig’s brow furrowed, and those crazy eyes bulged. He tipped his head to one side and spoke quietly.

  “Don’t you understand yet, Sam? Peter’s job is to make sure post-humans are controlled. And as one of the most powerful post-humans, and a JIS agent to boot, that goes double for you. With Lucy in his hands Peter knew you’d be neutralized. Even if you found out the truth – even if you wanted to fight back – you couldn’t.”

  The carriage shuddered as the driver put on the brakes and they rattled into Camden Station. The train must be fifty years old, thought Sam randomly. As they stopped at the empty platform and the doors opened Sam blew out a breath. Talking to Craig wasn’t getting him anywhere – except maybe more agitated. He felt Jean shift beside him, then her hand on his.

  “We’ll get her back, Sam. Peter wouldn’t dare harm her. He knows he’d have to answer to us.”