Havoc

by Jeff Sampson

  The screen went blurry there. I stopped reading. I didn’t know what the rest of the report was saying, really, but I’d gotten the gist of it from just those two paragraphs.

  The pheromones? The ones that calmed me down, set me to “find my fellows,” that made me rush with excitement at the sight of Spencer, that had let a killer draw me into a trap?

  It was planned. Just like everything else, my life’s course had been decided for me. Become a werewolf. Lust after a particular boy. Be placated when they wanted me to be. Be used for whatever they wanted, if they ever found us. To kill and dissect? To use for some other purpose? I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

  I sat there, unmoving, questioning everything. Again. Like I always did lately. I mean, you have to remember my life before this. I was utterly average. Boring. I had my one friend, my nice little family, school, books, movies. No matter how much headway I made into becoming Little Miss Confident, the alpha, there always seemed to be some horrible thing lurking around the corner to send me running with my tail between my legs.

  A knock at my door. I jumped. Blinking rapidly, I spun in my desk chair.

  “Yeah?” I said, my voice a squeak. I coughed to clear my voice. “Yeah?” I said again.

  “Hey, you have a visitor.” Dawn, her voice tired and muffled. “He said you had some sort of project.”

  I spun back toward my desk. My hand flew to the mouse, moving the pointer to close the open document, then select it in the folder. I hit the delete button.

  I didn’t want Spencer to see this. Not right away. I’d fish it out of the trash bin and read it again later.

  “Yeah,” I said one more time. “It’s cool, I’m dressed. He can come in.”

  My door creaked open to reveal Dawn standing there in sweat pants and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back. Naturally she still looked gorgeous. With a yawn, she waved her hand forward and Spencer appeared around the corner. He offered me a shy wave and a grin as he walked in.

  “Have fun, you two,” Dawn said as she turned to head back downstairs. In a singsongy voice, she finished, “But not tooooo much fun!”

  “It’s just a project!” I called after her. But she was downstairs by then.

  I motioned for Spencer to shut the door. He did so, then plopped onto my bed, his eyes scanning my room.

  “Wow, lots of movies,” he said, patting his thighs nervously. “You’re not very frilly, huh?”

  I hugged myself, feeling awkward. I’d never had a boy in my room before. I hadn’t exactly gussied it up for visitors. “Not really,” I said.

  I shoved my desk chair back, sitting as far away from him as I could. Even with that effort, his stupidly alluring musk began to overtake my room. I jumped up and opened my window, then took in a big gulp of the fresh, chill air that gushed in.

  I couldn’t let myself fall back into the pattern of sniffing and pawing at Spencer. Not now. Not after what I knew for certain.

  “So, hey,” Spencer said behind me. “I wanted to say… I’m sorry about last night. I mean, I got stupidly jealous and made us change. I just didn’t like the idea of you and Dalton going out without me.”

  I sat back down in my desk chair. “It’s okay,” I said. “We got into BioZenith and found some info, at least. So it was worth it.”

  Swallowing, Spencer leaned forward on his knees. “No, I mean, I was really jealous. I didn’t really realize it until then, but, uh…” He laughed, nervous. “I really like you, Emily.”

  I blinked, staring at him wide eyed. I didn’t know what to say. How to break it to him that whatever we felt was all a lie.

  He jumped to his feet and began to pace. “It’s not just because you saved me, either,” he said. “I’ve just really liked hanging out with you lately. You’re the chillest girl I’ve ever met, and you’re really smart and funny, like, real funny.”

  “Spencer,” I whispered.

  He didn’t seem to hear me. Like always, he was off in his own world. “And it’s weird, because when Tracie showed up last night, she had this smell, you know? It wasn’t like a perfume, not really, it was sort of animalistic. I’d sort of smelled it on you, but with her it was overwhelming. And I kept thinking, ‘She’s my mate. Tracie is my mate.’ Uh, not that I wanted to, like, have sex with her. But my brain kept saying that over and over. And I kept telling it to shut up, because I don’t care about what some smell tells me.” He stopped pacing and met my eyes. “I, uh, care about you.”

  Well. That was unexpected.

  This was supposed to be my big moment. The end of the movie where the guy comes with the boom box to profess his love, either because it’s the legit Cameron Crowe film or one of the zillions of parody scenes that came out years later. There was supposed to be fanfare. Me swooning. The two of us leaping into each other’s arms, swirling in the air, kissing, credits.

  But I didn’t know what to say or do. Spencer avoided his “biological imperative.” I hadn’t. Whatever he felt could be real. Maybe not me.

  This was not what I needed. There were more important things, right? Crazy, insane things? I couldn’t start getting wrapped up in emotional foibles for the first time ever. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to handle this on top of everything else.

  I didn’t realize it, but I’d been silent for ages by that point. Spencer picked at his jeans and ducked his head. “Uh, just wanted to let you know that,” he said. “So, do with that information whatever you want.”

  Forcing a smile, I met his eyes. They were too damned sad, and he had that whole puppy vibe again. I cringed, feeling all Cruella de Vil.

  “Thanks,” I said softly. “I really… Thanks, Spencer. I like you too.”

  He grinned at me. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his feet. “So, yeah. I guess you asked me to come over for a reason. Can I take a look?”

  “Of course,” I said, vacating the desk chair. “You’re our resident computer guy, after all.”

  He took my place and hunched over the keyboard, his hand on the mouse sending the corresponding pointer flying over the screen as he scanned all the files in the havoc folder.

  I resisted the urge to lean over him and watch the screen. I couldn’t get too close, not yet. Not until we had some breathing room to focus on whatever we’d found out at BioZenith. Instead, I collapsed back onto my bed.

  A buzzing and clattering from my end table. Narrowing my eyes, I peered over at my phone. It buzzed again.

  “Hey, you got a text,” Spencer said, his eyes still on the screen as he looked through various files.

  “Yeah, I know.” I reached for the phone. “But you’re the only one who ever texts me.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe Dalton or Tracie?”

  I peered at the screen. It read REEDY. It also read 7:36 AM, which was not a time Megan would ever choose to be awake if she had a choice. She’s not in the least a morning person.

  I flicked open the phone and read the text.

  7:36 AM PST: I saw you and Dalton change this morning. I know what you are.

  Internal Document #5

  The Vesper Company

  “Envisioning the brightest stars, to lead our way.”

  - Internal Document, Do Not Reproduce –

  Details of Video Footage Recorded Oct. 31, 2010,

  Part 5

  21:30:07 PST—Hall 3, Sublevel Sector E

  Vesper 1(B), Vesper 2.1(A), and Vesper 4(B) enter the hall. Per protocol, this hallway is guarded by Vesper Co. brand Sentinels, the orb-shaped, machine-gun-equipped hovering robots that are especially popular with our international arms customers.

  Three Sentinels swoop down from above, aim, and let free a flurry of bullets. Vesper 2.1(A) waves a hand, and the bullets stop in place. Vesper 1(B) runs forward, jumps to one wall, uses it as a platform to jump across to another, and then leaps once more to tackle all three Sentinels from behind. They are so focused on Vesper 2.1(A) that they do not turn to fire.

  Vesper 1(B) and the Sentin
els crash to the floor. She cries out, raises her fists, and smashes two of the machines, damaging their power cores. The third rolls toward Vesper 4(B), its laser targeting system flashing throughout the hall, unable to find a target. Vesper 4(B) steps on the Sentinel, destroying it. At the same time, Vesper 2.1(A) lowers her hands, and the bullets she stopped in midair rain to the ground.

  I have been reprimanded for inserting personal opinions into these documents, so let me make this clear: The following are observations only and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the transcriber.

  Had the Deviants been unsuccessful in fending off the Sentinels, they would all have been shot multiple times and died in this hallway. As we desire to keep most of the Deviant subtypes of the Vespers alive, perhaps a tranquilizer upgrade for the Sentinels is required.

  It was remarkably easy for three teenage girls to disrupt and destroy what should be military-ready robotic machinery. Granted, the girls are imbued with telekinesis and superstrength, respectively, but perhaps take this into account with the next redesign.

  Perhaps it is best if we not tell our clients of these particular weaknesses.

  21:34:42 PST—Hall 23, Sublevel Sector E

  The Deviants turn down Hall 23, which is unguarded. They walk toward their destination.

  VESPER 4(B): So, Amy, where are your sisters? And Nikki?

  Vesper 2.1(A) is visibly distressed by this question.

  Vesper 1(B) chooses to answer for her.

  VESPER 1(B): We’ll have to tell you later, Tracie. We’re here.

  They have reached the intersection of Hall 23 and Hall 7, at the end of which is Super Holding Cell E1. Per protocol, the door is guarded by both human officers and robot Sentinels. The Deviants peer around the corner, taking stock of the situation. They then whisper unintelligibly among themselves, presumably planning their next move.

  Part 5 of Relevant Video Footage Concluded

  21

  I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

  I froze, staring at the words on my phone, reading them over and over and over again.

  I know what you are.

  This was heavier even than the abstract notions of scientists and shadowmen. I had no idea what all Megan had seen, but she’d been so specific—she’d seen me and Dalton change. Unless she caught us putting on our clothes in the shed, she could only mean the werewolf.

  God, how I wished she only meant changing clothes.

  Panic rose in my chest. I had no idea what she would do now. Where she would go, who she would tell. It felt like so long since the reality of real-life werewolves was foreign to me that I almost couldn’t imagine the shock and horror of seeing our bodies mutate and shift right before her eyes.

  What if she thought I was a monster? What if she was scared of me now?

  Spencer saw me shaking. He stood from the desk and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Em Dub, are you all right?”

  I shook my head, couldn’t form words. I just handed him the phone, and Spencer read the text himself.

  “Oh,” he said. “Okay. I don’t think this is a good thing.”

  “No,” I finally managed to say. I jumped up from the bed, grabbing my shoes and looking around for my keys. “We have to go find her. I have to explain everything to her before she tells anyone.” I froze. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say to her. It’s one thing talking about it with you and Dalton and Tracie, but she’s not like us! How is she ever going to understand?”

  Spencer stood and put his arm around my shoulder. I almost recoiled, but stopped myself, not wanting to hurt his feelings. His pheromones wafted through the air, and I held my breath, still refusing to let the people at BioZenith mess with my head more than they already had.

  “She’s your best friend, right?” Spencer asked. I nodded.

  “Then she’ll probably understand. At the very least, she’ll finally know the real reason you’ve been hanging out with me so much. You don’t have to pretend we’re dating anymore.”

  He looked hurt as he said it. I wanted to comfort him. Smile at him and hug him and let him kiss me, my very first kiss. Hold each other and forget about this latest bit of trouble that I had to deal with.

  But I stepped away from him, bending over to pull my shoes on. “Can you drive me to her house, please?”

  “Sure,” he said, sitting back down on the desk chair. “Of course.”

  Shoes and coats on, we busted down the stairs. My dad, stepmom, and Dawn sat around the dining room table, eating our usual Saturday morning breakfast: eggs Benedict, cantaloupe slices, blueberry pancakes, coffee, orange juice. My dad’s specialty. My stomach ached at the smells.

  “You guys heading out?” Dawn asked me, a piece of cantaloupe speared on her fork.

  “Yeah,” I said, mind racing for an excuse. “We’re supposed to, uh, observe flora in the woods throughout the day and see how it changes. Science class stuff.”

  Katherine stood up, smiling politely between me and Spencer. “Do you two have time for breakfast? We have far too much food. You’re welcome to join us, Spencer.”

  Eyes wide and almost salivating, Spencer began to nod and head for a chair. I yanked his arm.

  “We really have to get out there before it’s too late,” I answered, forcing a disappointed expression.

  My dad, engrossed in his unwieldy newspaper, held up a free hand, which I squeezed. “Have fun.”

  “Oh, we will.”

  Then, mercifully, we were out the door, in Spencer’s mom’s minivan, on the road. He made small talk about how nice my family seemed, but I couldn’t do more than grunt in response. All I could think about was Megan.

  We pulled into her driveway. Her car wasn’t there. I left Spencer in the car and raced to the door, then rang the doorbell once, twice. A groggy Lucas answered, but he basically told me to shove off after confirming Megan wasn’t there.

  Back to the car. Back on the road. We drove all over the neighborhood, by the library, the school. I didn’t see her car anywhere, and it was so early it wasn’t like she could actually do anything.

  The entire time I kept dialing her phone and texting her. Leaving frantic messages. “Call me, Megan, we really need to talk. Please.” Each message sounded more desperate than the last.

  After an hour of nothing, I finally sagged into my seat and asked Spencer to take me home. I was starving, and Megan had disappeared.

  I opened the front door and slogged into the foyer/computer room, my eyes not focused on anything. My stomach gurgled and I clutched it.

  “Hey Leelee, back so soon?”

  I tore off my jacket and tossed it over a dining room chair. I shrugged at my dad at his desk, trying not to let my anxiety show. I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked it again. No calls. No texts.

  Breakfast had been cleared, but the bowl at the center of the table had been filled with fresh apples. I grabbed one and bit into it.

  Dad swiveled in his desk chair and looked at me, concerned. “You all right?”

  No, I thought. Nothing is ever all right.

  With the back of my palm, I wiped sweet apple juice from my lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Dad.”

  He sighed, then shook his head. “Well, Megan’s here, I should let you know. She asked to wait in your room, so I—”

  I stiffened, set the apple on the table, then spun to face my father. “She’s here? How long has she been here?”

  He shrugged. “Not too long, maybe half an hour. It’s okay I let her in your room, right?”

  “Yes, definitely,” I said. I darted over to him and kissed him on his bald spot. “Thanks, Dad. I mean it.”

  He laughed. “Sometimes lately you can be inscrutable, Leelee. Guess it’s a teenage girl thing.”

  I was already halfway to the stairs. “Guess so!” I called over my shoulder.

  I bounded up the steps two at a time, then burst into my room. Megan was indeed there, sitting at the edge of my bed, flipping through one of my books. She jumped, s
tartled by my sudden entrance. And then her entire body went still, her eyes darting, studying me.

  “I parked in the alley down the street,” she said, her voice flat. “I didn’t want you to know I was here and avoid me again. Are you really still Emily?”

  I held up my hands, approaching her slowly as though she was some small woodland creature that would dash away if I wasn’t careful. “It’s all right,” I said. “It’s still me.”

  “Even with what I think I saw?” she asked, still not moving.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “So I saw what I think I saw, then,” she said. “I wasn’t imagining it. It was real.”

  Lowering my hands, I nodded.

  “It wasn’t costumes or anything, was it?” she asked. “It was dark, but it didn’t seem like costumes.”

  I swallowed, then pulled out my desk chair and sat down, facing her. “No costumes,” I whispered. “I wish it was just makeup. But it’s not. I … wasn’t exactly hu—”

  “All right!” Megan said, her voice loud, shrill. Calmer, she continued, “I get it. I think I do. This is the real reason you were avoiding me, right? Because you’re … different now. You did change after all. And Dalton is like you, too.”

  I tried to swallow again, but the nervous ball in my throat refused to be shoved down. I was no longer hungry. “I spent all morning driving everywhere looking for you. I kept calling and texting. You didn’t … go somewhere or tell anyone, did you?”

  She laughed, running her fingers from her temples back through her long hair.

  “No, Emily, I didn’t tell anyone, because I didn’t even know if what I saw was real. You don’t have to worry, your secret is safe with me.” She scowled. “Which it would have been even if you’d told me when this all started.”

  “I tried,” I said weakly. “I told you I thought I was sick. You didn’t believe me.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, you know what, Emily, how was I to know that a symptom of being … you know … involved drugging me and stealing my car?”