Kindle Series 3-Book Bundle: A Genetic Engineering Science Fiction Thriller Series

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  As the Kindred continued to ask questions of Tabitha, Flip's mind stayed with something his mischievous daughter had said. So his approaching son was stronger after the drug episode. How about Tabitha? Was she stronger as well, and the others? Had they experienced any changes? He thought for a moment about himself. He knew with each day his strength was gaining, but had there been an unexpected acceleration after the wild night of Chickowski's experimentation?

  And the most nagging question of all kept returning. Why was he so worried by the approach of his only son? Wouldn't it mean they'd all be together for the first time? Maybe the added psychic force of the two would speed his recovery. Surely, only good would come from such a visit. Maybe it's just the normal amount of nervousness at meeting a long lost relative. For some reason, Flip couldn't sell himself on the thought.

  I've got some other news, too. Tabitha's excited voice cut through his concentration and brought him back to the conversation. I know what their names are.

  You do not, the doubting Kristin said.

  Oh, tell us. Please tell us. The rest of the Kindred shouted mentally.

  Well, if Kristin is going to keep questioning what I say, I'll just quit sharing it with you.

  Oh, don't worry about Kristin. She doesn't mean anything by it, Heather added with a note of warning: Do you, Kristin?

  I guess not. Let's hear the rest of your news.

  Okay, Tabitha replied after a long expectant pause. Our sister's name is Alphenius and our brother is Melaenis.

  Ugh, what awful names, Heather thought before she could hold it back.

  I thought so too, Tabitha agreed, but they call each other Alp and Mel, which isn't quite so bad.

  Alp -- Mel. Heather tried the names out. Yeah, not bad. Certainly better than Alphenius and Melaenis. Their mother must be weird to name her children those funny names. Where is she, anyway? Is she bringing them to us?

  Tabitha didn't answer at once. Finally she replied, I don't know what happened to her. She's not with them. I know that much, but I don't know where she is.

  Flip felt himself shudder. That was the problem. That was why he felt uncomfortable. He knew Sarrah well enough to know she'd never let two such powerful children out of her care. If she wasn't with them, what had happened to her? He was afraid he already knew the answer, and it wasn't good.

  Promises

  The Greyhound bus pulled into the Danville station with a shudder, as the driver cut the wheel too tightly, taking the rear tire up and over the curb. Mel glanced out the window for a few seconds before turning to his sister.

  "They're out there," he said with a smile that sprouted goose bumps on Alp's neck. "Be ready to do exactly what I say -- understand?"

  "Yeah, I understand. Remember your promise to me," Alp replied.

  "No sweat. We'll just have a little fun with them."

  "How many are there, do you know?"

  "Not enough. Not nearly enough." Mel chuckled and placed a hand on Alp's arm as she began to exit the bus.

  "Not yet. I want to be the last off the bus. Let them have plenty of time to get ready for us. Remember, do exactly what I say. Don't hesitate."

  Alp nodded and tried to hide the slight shiver that ran up her spine at his touch. Mel sat back in his seat and waited patiently for the bus to clear. Alp tried to follow his example, but was too nervous, and kept squirming in her seat. After what felt like an hour, the last old lady waddled down the isle, an armful of paper bags clutched to her breasts.

  Mel tipped his sunglasses and looked over the tops. "It's show time. Let's go...nice and slow." Alp stood and shuffled down the isle moving slower than the old lady had. She felt like her knees would buckle before she could make it to the exit.

  At the front of the bus, she noticed the driver standing on the ground waiting for her. "Well, Miss Priss, where's your escort? I expected at least the mayor would be here to welcome you."

  "Stick around, bud," Mel said with a sneer. "He might show up yet." He paused in front of the driver and looked around. To Alp he said, "The two strangers, which have been following us so close, are here already, and they've brought reinforcements."

  "What are we going to do?" Alp asked as she fought the panic that threatened to send her scurrying across the parking lot.

  "Just relax. Stay close to me. We won't be getting back on the bus." Mel took a step closer to the driver. As he did so, he reached into his pocket.

  "Okay, fat man. It's time for you to provide some of that wonderful service your company promises and never delivers." He leaned against the driver's belly and whispered into his ear. "I've spent months sharpening the knife that I'm holding against your fat belly, just so I'd be able to cut through all that blubber and get to your innards. I want you to escort the two of us to the taxi stand over there. You so much as breathe wrong, and I'll tattoo my initials about three inches into your hide."

  The driver's eyes scanned Mel's glasses trying to see beyond them to size the young boy up. Dropping his gaze down to Mel's sneering smile, he decided that the boy, despite his size and age, was probably deranged enough to be serious about his threat. A jab in the stomach swayed the vote in Mel's favor.

  Follow close behind me, Mel thought to Alp. It was the first time in days he'd used his mental telepathy to communicate with her. The message was clean and sharp.

  The three of them strolled slowly across the parking lot to the line of waiting cabs parked against the curb of the street. As Alp walked, she could feel the light hairs across the nap of her neck standing at attention. They're going to shoot us, she thought and was surprised to find that Mel had picked up on her thought.

  No they aren't, not if you don't focus your attention on it. Concentrate on something else and keep walking.

  Alp looked around, trying to find something to focus her attention on. Her eyes strayed to the curb and a thin stream of water flowing into a nearby drain.

  Noticing how dry the rest of the area was, she wondered what the source of the water was. She continued to stare at the muddy trickle, as though her life depended on solving the mystery of its origin. She suspected her life did depend on the outcome of the next few moments.

  They were only a few yards from the nearest cab, when a giant figure stepped from behind the last bus and blocked their way. Alp recognized the figure as that of one of the strangers who had followed them for the last two days. Alp glanced back at the trickle of dirty water, as it disappeared down the drain, and gave up the idea that concentrating on it would save their lives. It seemed the odyssey to their sisters stopped in Danville.

  "Hold it right where you are," Chunk spoke in the deep voice of a drill sergeant.

  Keep alert, Alp, and be ready to do exactly as I do, Mel thought to her, as he stopped next to the driver, the hand in his pocket still planted against the small of the man's back.

  "It's over, son. Let go of your friend there. You don't want to hurt anyone else." Chunk's voice changed to that of a concerned father. Unfortunately, Mel had never known his father.

  "Get out of the way, Fat Black. You don't know what trouble you're getting yourself into." Mel reached up and removed his sunglasses and placed them in the pocket of his jacket. "We've a taxi waiting for us."

  "No, I don't think so. You might be able to get through me, but there are a half dozen rifles pointed at you at this very minute. It's really useless to continue." Chunk pointed to the roof of the bus station. Mel’s eyes didn't follow but continued to stare at Chunk's chest.

  Alp noticed a bead of sweat pop out on the large man's forehead, and tiny lines appear at the corner of his mouth. As she noticed, he took a small step back, not quite a stagger but almost.

  "Mel, no!" Alp shouted as she jumped towards him and pushed him away. As she did so, she noticed a flicker of motion behind her. She had missed the other stranger closing in from behind.

  The next few seconds were a blur. As Alp felt the arms of the slender stranger encircling her waist, she saw Mel push the driver i
nto the black man blocking their path. The two large men tumbled into a pile of arms, legs and bellies. Alp heard the sharp crack of a rifle, and then, a second shot. Then, she was yanked off her feet as the stranger fell on top of her.

  "Mel!" She screamed, fighting to regain a position where she could help him, but the stranger was too strong. She managed to turn her head in time to see Mel rolling toward the gutter, a splotch of crimson staining the jeans on his left thigh. It was the last thing she noticed before her brother disappeared down the sewage drain, his blood mingling with the trickle of muddy water.

  The nurse stormed into the lab. "Dr. Chickowski, you're needed in the nursery!" She blurted out before Chickowski could admonish her for not knocking.

  "What's wrong?" Chickowski asked as he rose from his desk, putting his lab coat on as he walked to the door.

  "It's the children. They're in a terrible mood tonight. They're throwing things everywhere. They won't listen to anyone. Alice tried to go in and talk to them, and they attacked her with everything they could throw."

  As he heard the comments, Chickowski stopped and returned to his desk. He unlocked one of the drawers and removed a silver canister from it. "We'll see if this doesn't reason with them a bit." He dropped the canister into the pocket of his lab coat and followed the nurse out the door.

  The nursery reminded Chickowski of a nineteenth-century psychiatric ward. All the children were running around, jumping from one bed to another, and screaming at the top of their lungs. Lamps, sheets and clothes flew through the air, as though suspended by tiny invisible wires. The beds shook, as though in the midst of an earthquake.

  "How long has this been going on?" Chickowski asked the duty nurse.

  "It's been building for the past fifteen minutes or so. I tried to talk with them. Almost got killed for it. It's like they're in terrible torment or mourning. Listen to their wailing." She reached in front of her and flicked a switch to the nursery's intercom.

  Chickowski had to agree with her description. It sounded like a lament from some ancient opera. As he listened, a cold icy terror grew in his chest. He flicked the switch off.

  "Enough of that. It's time for beddy-bye." He removed the silver canister from his pocket and screwed it into the receptacle on the console in front of him. As he continued to screw it in place, he heard a light hiss as the seal was broken. He continued to watch the scene in front of him. For several seconds, nothing changed. Then, the scene changed to slow motion. At first, the activity continued but as though cut to one-third speed. Then, the objects floating in the air seemed to lose interest as they drifted to the floor. The beds stopped shaking and finally, each child slumped peacefully onto the floor or bed.

  After a couple of minutes, he flipped another switch, turning on the exhaust fans to the nursery. "Wait a couple more minutes for the room to clear, and then get in there and clean the mess up," Chickowski ordered. "And, take each one of them and place them in a straight jacket and strap them in bed. If they want to play a game of bedlam, I'll play along...and win." He turned on his heels and walked out of the observatory.

  When he reached his office, he closed and locked the door behind him. He picked up the phone and dialed Brown's number. Brown picked up on the first ring.

  "The children are ready, and I need to get them out at once," Chickowski said without bothering to identify himself.

  "We're working as fast as we can at this end. We should have a copter there by dawn. That's about four hours," Brown replied in the same calm voice.

  "That's cutting it tight. I've already had to deal with the two mothers coming back. It won't be long before Chunk and Lionel return. There'll be hell to pay then. There won't be any way I can keep this under wrap any longer. You've got to get me out – now!" As Chickowski spoke he felt the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. I'm in a real mess, he thought. Meanwhile, Brown is sitting in some safe office, cool as a cucumber.

  "We're working as fast as we can," Brown repeated. As the silence continued on the other end, he finally relented. "Okay, I'll go down and see what I can do to speed things up. Meanwhile, stay calm, my friend. We'll get you out of there."

  Chickowski grabbed for the straw. Of course, they'd get him out. He was important to them. After all, who else knew what he knew about the Kindred? Besides, whether they cared a hill of beans for him, he came with the package. If they wanted the Kindred, they'd have to take him too.

  "Okay. Just get a move on it; that's all I'm saying." Chickowski took a couple of breaths to calm himself. "Call me as soon as you know the time."

  "Will do." Brown broke the connection.

  Chickowski sat back in his chair. He was suddenly very tired. How many hours had it been since he'd slept? He couldn't remember, and it didn't matter. He'd not sleep again as an American. The next time he did, he would be a defector. That thought, alone, would keep him awake.

  "Blindfold her at once," Chunk yelled between racking coughs that sounded like he'd spit up his lungs.

  Lionel helped the small girl to her feet, but kept a firm hold on her arm. "Hold still. We're not going to hurt you, Alp."

  Alp continued to struggle against the firm grasp. "You shot him. You shot my brother!" She screamed hysterically. "You bastards shot him!" Even as she shouted and tried to twist out of his grasp, she wondered how he'd learned her name, and what else these men knew about her and her brother.

  "Someone blindfold her -- now!" Chunk yelled again. One of the police officers pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and tied it around Alp's eyes. Someone else produced a set of handcuffs and started to put them on her wrists.

  "I don't think that will be necessary," Lionel said as he stepped in front of her.

  "Get out of the policeman's way," Chunk said, "Or, I'll have you arrested for obstructing justice."

  "Put the damn handcuffs on her," he ordered, then, doubled over coughing. After the coughing had subsided, Chunk pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and spat a bright red clump of blood into it.

  "What on earth happened to you?" Lionel asked. "Were you shot?"

  "Hell no. They're not that bad an aim. It was that devil of a boy. Somehow, he was burning a hole through my chest. We've got to find him and stop him, fast. He's straight from hell."

  Alp continued to struggle with the policeman who had handcuffed her. "He'll die if you don't find him soon," she yelled. "You've got to find him."

  "What are you talking about?" Chunk asked. "At best, he only got a flesh wound in the leg."

  Alp began to cry, the tears staining the red bandana. "He's a bleeder," she said between her sobs. "He'll bleed to death if I don't get to him soon. I'm the only one who knows how to stop it."

  "Might be the best thing that could happen," Chunk muttered under his breath. "Okay, let's see what we can do to find the boy. Who knows how to get into the sewer?"

  Detective Phillips stepped forward. "The closest access we can send men into is about a block and a half away. We've got six men going down there now with lights. Unfortunately, there's a labyrinth of small pipes too small for us to travel through. If he hides in them, we may never find him."

  "Well, if we're to believe girlie here, it might not matter," Chunk replied, "but I want at least a body to confirm what happened. And let's see if we can't get some more men down there. Call back to the station and make that request. Tell them the smaller the men, the better."

  Lionel walked over to Alp. ''I'm sorry your brother was hurt. We'll find him soon."

  "What for? So you can shoot him again or put him in a cage as some freak. It might be better if he did die down there." Alp began to cry again despite herself. The handkerchief that extended partly over her nose as well as her eyes made it difficult for her to breathe.

  'Take that blasted blindfold off," Lionel said to the officer holding her. When he didn't respond, Lionel pulled it off himself. "If she could burn holes in people, what makes you think she couldn't burn through a silly handkerchief?"

&
nbsp; He stooped down beside Alp and handed her the handkerchief for her to blow her nose. She hesitated for a moment, then, took it from him. After a long blast on it, she folded it and dried her eyes.

  "You don't have the same powers your brother has, do you?" Lionel asked in a quiet voice.

  "No. We're twins but we're different. I'm a healer. He's a torch."

  "Can you help us find him, Alp?" Lionel asked as he brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

  "No," She replied immediately. She felt guilty enough for not following Mel's direction. She sure wasn't going to help these thugs anymore.

  "No, you can't, or no, you won't?" Lionel asked.

  "Just plan no. Take it any way you like."

  "Alp, think for a moment. If we don't find him soon, he might die down there. Is that really what you want for your brother? I don't think so."

  Alp's lower lip began to quiver again, but she refused to break down. She jerked her head back to keep the hair out of her face. She looked down at her shoes. After a moment, she looked back up and smiled at Lionel.

  "I think you mean well. You're not like the others, maybe. But I can't help you." She paused again, then, said, "I don't feel him around."

  Her lower lip quivered again. "I think he's already dead." The tears and sobs flowed freely with the admission.

  Lionel reached out and held her. She continued to sob on his shoulder for several minutes, until one of the police officers came and escorted her to a police car where Chunk and the detective were waiting for her. Lionel walked with her, holding her small hand in his.

  Danville

  The harsh rapping on the door startled Chickowski. Had he been dozing? He wondered. No, he couldn't have been. Well, if so, not for long. The rapping came again, even louder.

  "Come in." Chickowski ran his hands through his stringy white hair in an effort to wake himself. Fred opened the door and strolled in with a message. Handing it to Chickowski, he plopped himself in the seat next to Chickowski's desk. Chickowski frowned as he read the note. He refolded the note, then, glanced at his watch.