by C. E. Glines
Not recognizing a single thing settled it. I had no idea where we were. I didn’t really think I would pursue an escape plan, but it would help to know where I was, if the need arose.
My shadow suddenly grew much larger, and I knew without turning that my Clone was behind me. In response to the ever so strategic clearing of his throat, I muttered, “I’m going,” and stepped onto the plane.
“Swanky,” I said, clasping my hands together in front of me. To no one in particular, I said, “So, what’s on the breakfast menu, and please point me in the direction of the bathroom.”
“Last door on the right,” said a pleasant voice from what I did not think was a flight attendant. She wore no uniform to speak of, no sun glasses, and her suit wasn’t even black. Like me, she had blond hair, which she had pulled up in a bun, and her eyes were blue. She even looked a lot like me. I found that to be the slightest bit creepy.
In response to my staring, she lifted both her eyebrows, the universal equivalent of asking “what?”
I smiled and walked past her to the bathroom. My Clone, who had brushed past me already, had taken a position just over the wing. Someone had read the safety reports.
I finished my necessities and was happy to see a tray filled with breakfast goodies at a table directly across the plane from my Clone. The look alike, non flight attendant woman was nowhere in sight, which left only me and my Clone in the immediate vicinity of the food. Since he hadn’t bothered to claim it, I assumed it was for me. If I was wrong, I’d still rather eat now and make apologies later.
There was the possibility that the food could be drugged, but it seemed unlikely. If they were going to pursue that route, they would have done it in the beginning, when escaping had the greatest likelihood of success. There wasn’t much escape to be had at thirty thousand feet up, if you excluded parachutes, which I did. If it came down to that, they could just shoot me. There was absolutely no possibility of me willingly jumping out of this plane.
Without further delay, I sat down and commenced eating. In the five minutes it took to clear the tray, we were wheels up. There was no greeting from the pilot, and I didn’t even get a safety lecture.
But I wasn’t left completely on my own. There was my Clone, of course, and my unexpected twin had returned and taken a seat across from me at the table. She was perusing a report of some kind, waiting for me to finish.
Although I had eaten everything on the tray, including the token grapes, I was still hungry and began to scope around for more.
“I can get you another tray,” my look alike offered.
I liked to give people labels, especially when they didn’t offer an alternative. Maybe it was a scientist thing. Miranda said it was just me being neurotic. Being that she herself was neurotic, she should know.
“You could be my new best friend,” I said, secretly hoping I wouldn’t need one.
When she left to get my seconds, I crossed the isle and scooted in next to Clone Number One. “Did Miranda and my truck make it back to Houston okay?” I asked him.
My question didn’t even rate a head turn. His delay in responding allowed me to study him closely. Now that I could see him in the daylight, I made a very astute scientific observation. He was quite handsome.
Yes, handsome was a scientific designation. There had been studies done that showed men who were considered handsome by potential female mates had the greatest chance of mating and thus propagating the species. Not that I was looking for a mate or interested in propagating. Okay, maybe his hotness was not entirely scientific, but it was definitely worth noticing.
“They have arrived and everything including the cargo is secured,” he finally answered.
Secured? What did that mean? Being the practical person that I was, I asked him. “What do you mean by secured?”
His tone of voice clearly indicated he was irritated with being disturbed. “Your associate and the cargo are where they should be.”
I placed my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. Could he be any more evasive? Miranda could be tied to a chair and be where she was supposed to be. By cargo, I assumed he meant they knew what we were researching and hadn’t exposed us. That was good. But I was starting to get irritated with his irritation. I just wanted a straight answer.
“Is your should be the same as mine? Because my should be is at my lab,” I stated definitively, then added, “Unharmed,” for good measure.
I thought I detected a sigh. It was such a minute movement it was hard to tell. I didn’t think he could be more condescending. I was surprised. Not pleasantly.
“The cargo and your associate are unharmed and currently doing whatever it is they do when they are not graced by your presence.”
It was my turn to arch my eyebrow at him. Feathers were a little ruffled, weren’t they? I had to admit it, I was beginning to enjoy this interplay. That was the biggest reaction I’d gotten from him yet.
I wondered what branch of government he was. I assumed these guys were government. They just had that feel. You learned to recognize it once you’ve dealt with the government long enough.
Squinting my eyes at him, I asked, “Are you with the DOD?”
He declined to respond.
“Homeland Security?” I paused, but at this point, it was only in pretense of waiting for a response. “CIA, CDC, Super-Secret Agency I’ve never heard of?”
Still nothing. How did I get this guy to play ball? I didn’t know what it was about him, but to me, it felt like he was the leader.
I straightened in my chair and considered him a moment. His hair, which was a very dark brown, was longer on top and slowly tapered to right above his suit collar. It would probably have been soft curls or at least wavy if he were to let it grow. I wondered what color his eyes were.
Bingo. He still had his shades on.
At the risk of being subjected to his brand of irritation once again, I said, “You know, we are not in the sun. You can take off your shades.”
He turned his head to face me. It was kind of creepy. Now that I had his attention, I wasn’t so sure I wanted it. With one finger, he raised his glasses above his eyes.
To say his eyes were peculiar did not do them justice. They were not strictly human eyes. I would know. Anyone who got a peek at them would know. They were a brilliant green color, and the pupil was elongated. Some sort of cat DNA maybe?
“The Director will answer all your questions,” he stated sharply, then he let the glasses slide back in place and resumed his non-interested pose.
He was a hybrid not at the Colony and clearly in a position of authority with some other government agency. That was disturbing on so many levels, but mostly because I was ignorant of his existence.
“You’re a hybrid,” I said, slightly confused.
He didn’t acknowledge my comment. Big shock.
“Are all of the Clones hybrids?” I asked.
His non response signaled that he was back to ignoring me. This could get old fast. I needed to rattle him. I knew I really shouldn’t poke the tiger, but if he thought this was over, he obviously hadn’t studied the dossier on me enough. Did he think I’d be afraid of his kitty cat eyes? Scared into silence? Please.
“Oh, my God! You’re a werewolf!” I exclaimed.
His head slowly swiveled back to me. I opened my eyes real wide and put on my most innocent face.
“I am not a wolf,” he growled softly.
I changed my mind. I could keep poking the tiger all day. Except that the twinish, non flight attendant, food lady was back, and I was distracted by the bacon and eggs she set in front of me.
Thus, I officially ended our staring contest. It wasn’t really fair anyway. I couldn’t tell if he was blinking with the sun glasses on.
While I tucked into my second tray, I wasn’t positive, but I think I saw a small lifting of the right corner of his mouth. Maybe a smile, a tiny one.
After my stomach was satisfied, I decided I needed a new dancing partner.
I’d just taken my original seat back when the food lady sat down and introduced herself—I’d shortened her label to what was most currently relevant to me.
“I’m Olivia Needham,” she said smartly and a little too perky. But I thought her name fit. She was well put together, sophisticated, elegant even, except for the perky. Perky made me nervous. Made me want to find out what you were hiding with your perkiness.
Perky or not, she definitely didn’t seem like someone who should be serving food. “And what is Olivia Needham’s part in all this?” I asked.
“Besides being your new BFF?”
Clever. I smiled, acknowledging her wordplay.
“I’m a liaison of sorts. I’ll be showing you the ropes. Helping you with whatever you need. But until then, the Director—”
“The Director will answer all my questions,” I finished with her. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a time or two.” I smiled real big and waved at Catboy.
Nothing. That boy was a statue.
“You learn quickly,” she quipped.
I think she was amused. Glad I could entertain. I also wondered if she was talking about the situation or Catboy.
“Will we be landing soon?” I asked. All this travelling and non talking, talking was annoying.
“In about an hour,” she said. “You then have another short drive. You’ll see the Director first thing in the morning.”
She was a lot more informative than my last interview. Considering he told me basically nothing, that wasn’t saying much.
“And he is Director of what exactly?” I asked.
She regarded me with a half-smile on her face, but didn’t offer an answer.
Statues, the whole lot of them.
She then pulled out a brief case and began sifting through some paperwork, completely ignoring me. Question and answer time was apparently over.
I sighed and looked out my window. Not that I would recognize where we were, yet again. But there was nothing else to do but wait and mull over my future.
They obviously wanted me for something. If Catboy’s eyes were any indication, it was related to my work with hybrids. I thought if they wanted to harm me, they would have done it by now. I figured the hurting part wouldn’t come until and if I refused their offer.
Once we landed, Ms. Needham took a different vehicle, and I was back to the Catboy and Clone snuggly. So there was no talking, no iPod or Wi-Fi, not even a magazine. I had napped on the plane and wasn’t tired, but I was hungry.
“Are we going to eat anytime soon?” I asked.
In what was a shockingly immediate response to me, both Catboy and the Clone looked at me.
“What? Am I not allowed to eat?” I said defensively. Was this the way they were going to be feeding me? I’d be keeping this in mind when the negotiations started. Hopefully there would be negotiations instead of do this or die.
“Did you not eat on the plane?” said the Clone, who obviously had no appreciation for my appetite.
I turned to face him, as much as I could while stuffed between the two of them. “Yes, in fact, I did eat on the plane. However, I am no longer on the plane, and I’m hungry. Hence, the question.” A little snarky, I knew, but I was hungry, and he should have been able to figure that out because I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
As if by magic, a goodie bag materialized in front of my face. It dangled from Catboy’s long fingers. Look who else had figured out that food was important to me. I threw a glare at the Clone and greedily reached for the bag.
Opening it, I peered inside hopefully and found that he had far surpassed my expectations. I thought perhaps some cheese and crackers, but that was not what I was looking at. He had covered all the forms of chocolate, liquid, solid and gooey.
He was no longer Catboy. He was now Catman. I could show respect when it was due. Anticipating my needs, particularly my food needs, and meeting them definitely qualified for respect in my book.
You might think with my love of eating I’d be huge. Or, as we say in Texas, as big as the side of a house, but I wasn’t. I kept up with my eating by running and weight lifting. I knew exactly how far and how fast I had to run to outpace the Oreos. And if I do say so myself, I looked good. Curves in all the right places. I was a lot more solid than I looked thanks to the weights. No waify model here.
I busied myself rifling through the little bag of heaven. I froze when my eyes locked on a familiar wrapper. Was that…a fried chocolate pie? I hadn’t had one of those in at least a month. I ripped the package open and took a bite, sighing as the chocolate pudding filled my mouth.
It was official, Catman loved me.
My chewing slowed as I eyed Catman who was suddenly making a strangled coughing sound. Was he trying to smother a laugh? Was Catman telepathic? Cats weren’t telepathic. No animal was telepathic. However, the only time that I had heard him speak was when he had addressed me. How was he communicating with the other Clones?
I wanted to ask what was going on, but I knew what I would get in response. It seemed I had no choice but to wait for the Director to answer my questions. Knowing I wasn’t going to figure it out right then, I settled in to finish my assorted chocolates.
It occurred to me that though I might not be able to figure out everything, I could conduct a little experiment. Focusing solely on Catman, I told him, Thank you.
He had no verbal response, but he did slightly nod his head.
Oh. My. God! He could hear me. This could be really great or really embarrassing. I cringed as I tried to recall all the things I’d thought since being with him. Only about thirty or forty embarrassing things. No big deal, right?
I wanted to run and hide, but there was nowhere to go in here. And how could you hide from a telepath anyway?
My mind began spinning with all the possibilities associated with telepathy. I had a whole new set of questions now. Did he hear everything or only things I directed at him? Could everyone hear me or just him? Was I broadcasting everything I thought?
Good Lord, these people would get tired of me real quick. I never really shut up mentally. I thought a lot. Even if I wasn’t verbalizing, the brain was still going.
Did that mean I needed to erect some kind of telepathy barrier? And how the heck would I do that? Really, I needed the telepathy handbook and a note pad to write down my questions.
But no one handed me pen and paper, so maybe I wasn’t broadcasting, or they were ignoring me, as usual. Or maybe they had erected their own barriers against me. Not sure how I felt about that possibility, but I could understand it.
I crushed the bag with the leftover trash in my hands. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the Director. And God help him if I came across pen and paper.
CHAPTER 5
IT WAS RIGHT AROUND DARK when we finally arrived at what I called an estate. Given that it was late summer, that put it around eight o’clock in the evening. I’d been traveling all day on two breakfast trays and a bagful of chocolate. I needed a shower, a change of clothes, and something to eat. As I had nothing with me, I hoped they’d thought of everything.
Catman held the door open for me while I exited the SUV. My muscles severely protested their engagement after so long a rest. Yikes, I was stiff.
He raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.
I assumed it was in response to the grimace on my face, but I was not going to tell him that my butt hurt. Or think it. Dang it. I’d already thought it. Shaking my head in disgust, I motioned for him to lead the way.
He shut the door to the SUV and started up what was a very long stone patio area. “You will find the showers refreshing,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Was he amused? He sounded amused. I was not amused. Some things just didn’t need to be shared on a first date.
My view of the grounds was somewhat limited by the descending darkness, but I could determine there were rolling hills off in one direction and woods in the other. The house itself appeared to be your standard stone mansion or palace. Not li
ke I’d know the appropriate term. What I did know was that it was beautiful, especially all lit up.
Stepping through the door into the foyer left my mouth hanging open. “Wow,” I breathed.
From floor to ceiling it was opulence. A black and white diamond patterned floor stretched as far as I could see. Dark wood paneling and woodwork were everywhere, including the twin gigantic curved staircases we now faced.
Walking across the foyer, I suddenly felt small. This place was a lot bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. It reminded me of something you would find in the English countryside. Well, I guessed you would. Again, not an expert in this sort of thing.
“It’s a mix of European architecture,” Catman supplied.
I’d forgotten he was standing there. Looking up at him, I got my second look at his eyes without the glasses. They were still green, but they no longer had the elongated pupil, which meant he had the ability to reverse his trait. Very interesting. And, he’d just answered my unspoken thoughts. Were we acknowledging the telepathy thing?
He maintained eye contact with me for just a moment longer than necessary before turning his back to me. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said.
Guess not.
Taking the lead again, he preceded me up the stairs. Gotta love the view. The sculpting in this place was amazing. He harrumphed at my assessment, and I smiled at his backside as we continued to climb.
At the top of the stairs, we turned right, and that was about the only turn direction that I would remember. We wove right and left so many times that I thought we should have ended up where we started. Finally, we stood before a door that I presumed led to my room.
He knocked and opened the door to reveal Ms. Needham seated in a receiving area. She looked up as the door opened and nodded once to Catman.