by T. D. Fox
“Are those...”
“Yup. That’s a gorilla.” Dina pointed. “That one’s some sort of cat. No idea about the other two, and I’ve already watched this four times. They’re not people.”
A metallic shriek splintered the microphone. The gorilla ripped the door clean off and flung it behind himself. It bounced and shuddered down the road. The man behind the camera swore in Chinese and shook the video around.
“C’mon, dude,” Dina muttered. “You’re ruining the picture.”
The van’s tires screamed, and when the video steadied again, the gorilla was half inside it. He reached in and yanked something—someone—out. He flung them behind him as well. From the roof, one of the other creatures leapt down onto the gorilla’s shoulders and dove inside the van.
The tires skidded. Voices yelled. The brakes squealed again, but the gorilla leaned to the side, tipping the van with him. It smashed to the pavement, two left wheels spinning in the air.
Now Courtney saw the cat. Or panther, or whatever it was. It slunk down into the van’s interior from the crumpled roof, a slippery, feline shadow. The two other shapes followed it. After a second, they emerged again, dragging something with them. A motionless sack, wrapped in ropes, caught by the edges in their teeth. They dragged it off screen.
The gorilla sat back on its haunches and roared. The camera shook.
Just when it looked like he was going to reach down and dismember everybody inside, something sliced through the audio.
A high, piercing whistle, loud enough to carry through to the street. It rose and dipped and pierced again. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
High... She counted. High, low, high...
The gorilla snarled. He beat his chest, and hopped down from the mangled van. Then he dropped to all fours and ran off screen in the direction of the others.
The video tumbled again. Whoever held the phone huffed a stream of foreign words and jogged toward the wreck. Courtney braced herself as he neared the mangled car door. As he tipped the camera to look inside, the video cut to black.
A thick bar of red cut across the screen. Sharp white letters read: “This video has been removed. Please exit this window.”
“Augh,” Dina groaned. “See? Why would they go through so much trouble to censor a hoax?”
Courtney couldn’t look away. Dina scrolled through the comments beneath the now-blank video box. Fake, someone had typed. Another griped, King Kong had better animation. The 1933 one.
“These morons.” Dina swiped through the comment section. “How could anyone fake this? It’s off Seventeenth and Stewart. I’m sure they could find the—hey, are you okay?”
The four-note melody reverberated around her skull. Courtney didn’t realize she’d frozen until she felt Dina’s hand close on her arm. She inhaled.
“Um. Yeah. Just... been a long day.”
“I’m sleeping over,” Dina declared. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
“I’m fine. Jasper will be here soon. Stay if you want, but I’m okay.”
“This stuff keeps happening to you. How are you always in the middle of everything weird that goes down in this city?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, call me if you need anything. Love ya.”
“You too.”
The door clicked shut behind Dina, and Courtney sat on the edge of the couch staring at it.
High. High, low, high...
Those four notes. Over and over, dipping and rising and echoing between her ears. The goose bumps on the backs of her arms spread.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced down to see a text from Jasper.
Sorry. Chief is pretty pissed I got involved. Don’t know how much longer I’ll be.
Right. She could sit here on the edge of these couch cushions and wait for another twenty minutes to go by, or...
Setting the phone down, Courtney rose to her feet. She crossed the room to where her laptop lay charging on the coffee table. Tapping in her password, she watched the blinking black line in the search box for a moment.
Slowly, she typed a single word.
Whistler
She hit enter and crossed her fingers. It was always hit or miss with Orion City’s search engines. This may have been a freak impounded zone, but it was still America. One thing that hadn’t changed was the right to free speech and press... to an extent. All news from within Orion stayed within Orion. Access to the web carriers were blocked to the Outside. But she could search within the Orion Times news archives. Only an idiot would trust all of the news coming from the single media center in Orion City, but it was something.
She clicked on the first result. A list of articles filled her screen, ordered chronologically by date published. Unsure where to start, she scrolled through the headlines.
“The Whistler Killer strikes again. Body of city official found behind dumpster.”
“Two cops dead. Witness indicates Whistler Killer.”
“Doctor stabbed to death: police suspect Whistler.”
“Zoo animals missing. Lion-keeper said she heard, ‘Whistling.’”
“The Whistler: Man or Mob?”
Pausing at the last one, Courtney clicked the headline to reveal the description. The opener read, “Could Orion’s infamous criminal commit all these crimes alone?”
Jasper’s theory about a syndicate flickered in her memory. She opened the article and started to skim. The reporter listed the myriad of crimes allegedly linked to the Whistler. Homicide, drug trafficking, identity theft, robbery...
“The number of people reported ‘whistling’ at a crime scene have descriptions encompassing different ethnicities, heights, and genders,” the author concluded. “Despite the rumor mill of Orion’s street culture, it is impossible that all of these criminal feats could have been accomplished by a single person.”
Courtney clicked away from the article and scrolled down to the oldest stories on the Whistler. The earliest dated back to seven years ago. She glanced through some of the crime logs, and bit back a shiver.
Amanda & Tyson Hasegawa, PhDs
Christy Johnson PhD
Dr. Mark Peters
The list of victims went on. Men and women alike.
These are scientists. One of the articles listed the victim’s occupation beside their name. Virologist, Psychiatrist, Phlebotomist... These were scientists sent in from the outside, assigned to study the epidemic. The White Coats who carted off the jaguar in Chinatown, and that Changer who’d ripped the taxi open on Mainstreet.
But there were also police officers, military personnel, and random citizens who didn’t seem to have any connection to the rest.
“Known affiliates,” Courtney muttered to herself, clicking on the link.
Known accomplices: Cassandra Silver. Reginald Murphy.
Clicking on Reginald, a heartbeat of recognition thumped through her. Infamous Arsonist Behind Bars at Last. The Torch’s mugshot grinned lopsidedly, yellow teeth bared behind his beard, crazy orange hair sticking up in all directions. Courtney remembered the terror he’d brought to Eastside two years ago, after burning down the old City Hall alongside a host of other government buildings. He’d even targeted a hospital before he’d finally gotten caught. Those yellow-tinted eyes stared back at her from the screen, bloodshot and unhinged.
Her phone buzzed. Jumping, Courtney darted back to the couch and checked the message. Dina, checking in. No updates from Jasper.
Something simmered in her blood, but it didn’t feel like worry. She started to walk back to her computer. But the restless sense in her muscles made her turn around again. She scooped up her phone.
I’ll see you in a minute, she texted Jasper.
Striding to the door, she slipped on her coat and grabbed her keys. Her pocket vibrated.
Don’t come here. Chief doesn’t know you know.
Courtney stared at Jasper’s text. Her hand rested on the cool brass of the doorknob. The phone buzzed again.
/> Just sit tight. I’m figuring this out.
Sit tight?
Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Courtney opened the door.
It was ten-fifteen, so the bus at the end of her street would be pulling up in five minutes. In the back of her mind, a tiny voice that sounded like Dina echoed: How are you always in the middle of everything weird that goes down in this city?
Her boots continued crunching in the snow. Maybe she was the one chasing down trouble, not the other way around.
Halfway to the station, Courtney decided against seeking answers from Jasper. Hopping off the bus into the deserted air of Chinatown square, she turned and watched the fading taillights bounce away over the cobblestones. A chilling breeze skimmed the backs of her legs, rushing up to tousle the few hanging lanterns on the awnings of closed storefronts, the only lights on the dark street corner. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.
A bright yellow stripe of caution tape barred off the intersection. Behind it, the building looked punched in, like a giant had taken a fist to the bricks. Rubble lay in piles. Black skid marks almost blended into the shadows, but Courtney saw them because she knew they were there.
Maybe this was a bad idea. The police had already towed the van away, along with any clues she might’ve scavenged. Half a broken headlight remained, glinting on the shattered bricks.
Her feet moved without a signal from her brain. The scuff of her shoes sounded too loud on the empty street. She stopped in front of the crash site, hands fidgeting in her pockets.
“Courtney?”
A yelp burst out of her as she wheeled, catching herself on the taut line of caution tape. A small, familiar figure lifted his hands in apology.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oliver? What are you doing here?”
He was dressed in his work uniform, the one from a Chinatown security detail. She hadn’t heard a single footstep when he’d walked up. He hesitated and said, “My shift just ended, so I was heading home. What are you doing here?”
His eyes slid past her to the crash site.
“I was...” She glanced back at the rubble on the ground. “You know, I have no good explanation.”
“You saw that video, huh?”
“I’m not just a gawker, I swear.”
“Not much to gawk at, if you were. They cleaned it all up pretty good.”
“I was here.” Courtney turned back to the wall where the van had crashed. A jagged claw mark ran down the plaster, paint flaking away from it. “A boy turned into something else, in front of my own eyes. How can people keep calling this a hoax?”
Oliver exhaled in a long, white cloud. “I don’t know what’s worse, the ones refusing to recognize what’s going on, or those calling Changers a danger to society.”
Courtney imagined the boy, crumpled under the weight of the nets, so small in the circle of white-coated officers. “I don’t think they’re dangerous.”
They both stared at the claw marks on the side of the wall.
“They can be,” Oliver murmured. “The Change messes with your head. Some of them can’t take it. You forget you’re a person, and start acting like whatever beast you’ve become.”
Courtney glanced sideways at him. “You talk like that’s happened to someone you know.”
Lips pressed together, he turned away. Courtney followed, curiosity spiked.
“They’ve still got some mind left,” she pressed. “The animals on that video worked as a team to bring down that van, and carried that Changer away without hurting him. Then they all responded to that whistle like soldiers.”
Oliver’s frown deepened. “Most Changers are in a fragile state of mind when they switch forms. But there’s someone who’s gotten them to organize. No one else has been able to do that; they listen to nobody but him.”
“Let me guess,” Courtney said. “The Whistler?”
“So they call him. I’ve been trying to hunt down his real name for months, with no luck.”
“You seem to think it’s one man.”
Oliver kicked at a piece of rubble near his shoe. “Is Jasper having you help out with the case, too? Or are you investigating on your own?”
Courtney picked at her fingerless gloves. “He only tells me so much.” Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin. “This case is personal now. After the incident at the café, I can’t get that stupid whistle out of my head.”
“Yeah, it sticks with you for a while.”
She blinked. “You’ve heard—?”
Her phone rang. Digging it out of her coat, she winced at the caller ID.
“Jasper’s the protective sort,” said Oliver, seeing the screen. “He doesn’t want you getting yourself tangled up in this any more than you already are.”
“That’s not up to him.” Ending the call, Courtney met Oliver’s gaze. “I want to hear your theory.”
“My theory?”
“About the Whistler.”
He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away. After a moment, his shoulders dropped and his words rushed out on a fast cloud. “I don’t think this guy is a regular Changer. Everybody else changes into some kind of animal. This guy...” He turned to her, dark eyes wide and fervent, as if needing her to understand something. “The Whistler isn’t multiple people. Multiple people are all the Whistler.”
“Didn’t you just say the same thing twice?”
“No. All across living species, there are mutations. You can see it in Changers already. The Bird-Man’s mutation gives him control over his Change so he stays human and sprouts wings. The Orion Giant’s mutation makes him huge. They’re still Changers, but their DNA’s warped a little different than the rest. Now, there’s someone else out there who’s warped even more. A Changer with a whole new kind of skill.”
“You mean...” Her mouth dried.
“The Whistler’s not a group. He’s a human being who changes into other human beings.”
14. ...IT’S PROBABLY TRUE
EVERY MORNING, COURTNEY took the alleyway shortcut to work. She rarely met anyone on her commute. The occasional stray cat or pigeon might startle her when it sprang out from behind a dumpster. But for the most part, she didn’t give a second thought to her route, even if she did carry pepper spray along out of habit.
Today, she was preoccupied with last night’s conversation. Oliver’s theory kept rolling over in her mind, tipping between ridiculous and creepily plausible. On top of that, Jasper kept texting nonstop. He must’ve heard from Oliver where she was last night. She’d never seen him mad, but when he found out she’d gone back to Chinatown alone, he seemed royally pissed. Maybe two weeks ago she would’ve considered it sweet to see him so concerned about her safety, but today she found it irritating. She’d been there, too; she watched that poor kid get tranquilized and hauled off like a rabid dog. Jasper knew something. He’d been evasive on the phone last night. Said the chief had things under control, that it was out of his jurisdiction. But there was something in his voice. She wasn’t going to sit at home while he ran into brick walls with his investigation. If she wanted answers, she had to get them herself.
Her phone buzzed. Debating whether to pull it out and text Jasper back, a scuffing sound made her look up. She wasn’t alone in the alley anymore.
Two figures walked toward her, definitively masculine in their swagger. Courtney moved off to the side to give them room to pass. A few steps later, they spread out so they sauntered toward her on either side of the alleyway. She’d have to walk between them to get by.
Instinct slowed her. She glanced down to scan Jasper’s text asking to meet up. He could stop by the café. Thumbs hovering over the screen, she debated calling him. Just to look busy on the phone as she passed. A footstep scuffed ahead, nearer than she expected, and she looked up.
They were both staring. One wore a grin at an angle that made her stomach twist. The minute she made eye contact, he stuck his tongue out. She dropped her eyes.
&nbs
p; “Hey,” he called. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”
Maybe she should turn around. Or keep walking?
“Hey. Talkin’ to you, beautiful. You deaf?”
Just a few more steps. She’d pass them, ignore their stares, and they’d move on and find someone else to harass. The air shifted in front of her, and she stopped short. One of them had stepped right into her path.
“You’re so pretty you think you can be rude, huh?” He was way too close. He smelled like smoke and sweat. Courtney took several fast steps backward. The man followed, his friend close behind.
She said the first thing she could think of. “I have people waiting for me. They know exactly where I am.”
The man on the left guffawed. “Aw, look at that, Ed. She’s spooked.”
“That ain’t spooked. I’ll show you spooked. Watch this.”
The closer man took two quick strides toward her. Courtney leaped backward and snatched the pepper spray from her purse.
“Back up.” She held it straight out at arm’s length, knuckles trembling. “I mean it. My boyfriend’s a cop.”
“A cop.” The first one doubled over. “I’m gonna piss myself.”
“She’s cute. Hey, if your boyfriend’s a cop, how come you’re walking by yourself? Shouldn’t you know better?”
Courtney walked backward, pepper spray held high. The men kept pace with her, closing the distance. She wondered how far the spray would reach, if she could hit both of them. It was such a small can. What good would it really do?
“Courtney,” boomed a voice from the end of the street.
Both men turned. Courtney kept stumbling back, but caught a glimpse between them. A tall man in a police uniform strode down the alley. Relief swept through her. Jasper took one look at Courtney’s raised pepper spray and turned on the two thugs.
“What’s going on here? Back away from her.”
“Ha! She wasn’t lying.” Neither of them moved. “This your girlfriend, pretty boy?”
“I said back away.”
The man closest to Courtney stepped toward him, grin opening. There wasn’t a trace of fear on his face. Jasper’s hand dropped to his gun. The man stopped a few inches from his face.