Hybrid Zone Recognition

by C. E. Glines

  The score was once again even.

  Introductions over with, Director Garrison looked at Agent Michaels and asked, “Assessment?”

  Catman avoided my eyes as he began talking. “She maintains her composure well. Is not given to histrionics or belligerence, and she likes to eat. A lot.”

  Wait a minute. Was he talking about me? And he said the last part like it was a bad thing. I frowned at his assessment. First of all, it was absurd that they were discussing me while I was sitting right here. Second of all, why were they so against eating?

  “Agent Needham?”

  “Hold on a minute,” I interrupted. “Are you seriously discussing me while I’m sitting right here? Shouldn’t you have done this before now?”

  “The reason I brought you here was not to hear your assessment of my job performance, Dr. Greer,” the Director said somewhat coldly. “Do you have a problem with hearing what they have to say about you?”

  “I couldn’t care less what their opinion of me is,” I said exasperated.

  “But I do, which is the point.” He stared angrily at me until I waved him on.

  “Speaks her mind,” Catman said, adding to his assessment.

  I rolled my eyes to him in an obvious show of “bite me.” The narrowing of his eyes led me to believe he heard me loud and clear.

  “Undoubtedly,” the Director said. “Agent Needham?”

  “Mischievous. Scheming. You don’t see the trap coming.”

  Well, someone was still upset.

  Catman turned towards Olivia, confusion on his face, but she ignored him and finished her analysis. “Always thinking and figuring things out. Likable, in an annoying sort of way.”

  Likable in an annoying sort of way? What the heck did that mean? Seemed like an oxymoron to me. And besides, I hadn’t even begun to be annoying yet.

  The Director looked at me as if waiting for something. Did he want an apology? That wasn’t happening. Maybe it was my turn. I liked that idea.

  “Statues. One with not only the ability to anticipate my needs but a demonstrative willingness to do so.” I nodded at Catman and then turned my gaze on Olivia. “And the other with a propensity for loud wake up calls and uncomfortable wardrobe choices. And, I would be remiss to omit her desperate need to chill out.”

  Olivia abruptly cleared her throat and averted her eyes. I knew it was her.

  “What are you talking about?” the Director asked blank faced.

  Tired of being talked about like I wasn’t sitting right there, I said, “It was my turn. That’s my assessment of your people. And for future reference, it is incredibly rude to discuss a person while they are with you. But putting that aside, why have you, assuming it was your call, brought me here?”

  The Director stared at me, his gray eyes like chips of ice after my outburst. Maybe he was rethinking his decision. At this point, I was almost too mad to care.

  Catman didn’t seem too comfortable either. He was uncharacteristically squirming, if clasping his hands so tightly together that the white of his knuckles showed and rapid eye blinking counted as squirming.

  “I’ve brought you here,” the Director said with his voice reflecting the coldness in his eyes, “because we have a need that I think you can fill. I am familiar with your work with the hybrids in New Orleans. I’m sure you have noticed some irregularities with our Agents you have been dealing with.”

  I nodded. I’d only noticed any with Catman, but I’d suspected there were more.

  “Your work with the HCF was mostly theoretical, academic. There was no experimentation or urgency with regard to your work. Now, there exists a need for you to step out of the book, so to speak, and actually perform.”

  Actually, perform? Like what I had done to date meant nothing? I hoped it got better than this. His comments were insulting and somewhat degrading.

  “Our problem is of the utmost urgency.” He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. “We have made some astounding discoveries with our hybrids, had the birth of novel abilities.” He paused again. He seemed to be wrestling with what or how much to tell me.

  Why hadn’t he figured out what he wanted to say before he came to the meeting? Annoyed with the delay his lack of preparation was causing, I offered, “That usually occurs with evolution. But I take it there is some problem.”

  He reacted as though my interjection confused him. I’d been waiting two days already to find out the reason for my abduction, and my patience was razor thin. I wanted to yell at him and tell him to just say it already.

  He regarded me for a long moment, and, once more, I found myself the subject of scrutiny by a person I didn’t know and therefore could not care less what he thought of me. Except, maybe I did. If he’d just tell me plainly what all this was about, I’d know if I cared about his impression of me. But then again, I was always just me, no matter who or what was involved.

  The second he came to a decision concerning me, I saw it in his eyes. Maybe now I’d get some answers.

  “The rate of evolution has increased dramatically,” he said. “And, we are finding the abilities less predictable.”

  Predictability. There it was again. The HCF also had that as one of their goals.

  “We are also experiencing difficulties related to proximity or exposure of humans to hybrids.”

  That was new. “What kinds of problems?” I asked before he could move on.

  He sat back in his chair and pursed his lips.

  It reminded me of Miranda when she didn’t want to give an answer. If he was as stubborn as her, this could drag on forever. I couldn’t let that happen. I was pretty certain Miranda was in close proximity and at some level of exposure with the hybrid she had left with.

  “Look,” I began, “as you know, I’m a molecular geneticist. I do not specialize in evolution per say. I work on the mechanics of the actual processes. Don’t you have people that are able to work on this for you?”

  He smiled briefly in a show of tolerance regarding how little I knew.

  That grated against my already tenderized nerves. Irksome was a word that was quickly becoming universal for how I felt about all of them.

  Too late, I realized that I had swept my bangs aside. A brief look around the room told me I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. I also found that I was studiously drumming my fingernails against the table. Flattening my hand on the table, I cocked my head sideways as I swiveled my chair back to face the Director.

  He glanced briefly at the knot, uncertainty written on his face. “I have been led to believe that you are tenacious, Dr. Greer. You get to the root of a problem, see the bigger picture, how everything fits together. Was I misinformed?”

  Why the heck was he getting angry? As if I was wasting his time. He was the one who brought me here. For what I still didn’t know.

  I leaned into the table, put my “what did you say” face on and said, “Excuse me.”

  He leaned in too, mirroring my posture. “Was. I. Misinformed?” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t know,” I spat just slightly below a yell. “Did your source tell you that I would appreciate being kidnapped in the middle of the night and then made to wait until you deigned to show up and not answer my questions?”

  The tension in the room increased dramatically at my response to his anger. As we leaned into the table, our gazes locked, I found myself in another staring contest. This was so juvenile.

  “Just tell me plainly what is going on and why you have brought me here,” I said calmly enough to pull us back from the brink of shouting, but forcefully enough to let him know that I still meant business.

  He seemed to visibly collect himself at my demand. Taking a deep breath, he purposefully sat back in his chair. “I apologize, Dr. Greer. This matter is most serious, and I do not have time to waste. If I have the wrong person, I need to know.”

  I studied his face a moment, fighting the urge to yell and call him an idiot. The fact that I didn’t see any malice
in his expression aided my struggle. Pulling away from the table slightly, I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to keep my voice level when I spoke.

  “How am I supposed to tell you if I’m who you need, when I don’t even know what the problem is? Regarding the subject of hybrids, I am the best that I know of. That’s not arrogance, just fact. And, I do have an uncanny ability to unravel the puzzle of it all. However, with the little bit of observation that I have been able to do, I can tell that your hybrids are superior or more advanced than what I have been working with. This means there’s a whole field of research that I have not been privy too. A fact which greatly annoys me.”

  I didn’t want to admit this next part because I wanted at the research that I had missed out on. But the sincerity of his plea and the potential seriousness of the situation convinced me that, as he said, he needed to know.

  “I’m sure you have really smart people working for you already that are familiar with the genetics at work here. I would have to play catch up, and if time is a factor, then I’m not sure what I could offer that they haven’t already provided or are on the brink of providing.”

  He nodded sharply once. “I appreciate your honesty, Dr. Greer, and I understand your hesitancy. You are not wrong in your assumption that I have plenty of smart people working for me. But they have tried to solve this problem and gotten nowhere. I don’t need any more smart people. I need a brilliant person who’s a problem solver. I believe that person is you.”

  How did I respond to that sort of statement? He’d just called me brilliant—aw shucks.

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I was definitely intrigued, but not enough to agree to anything without knowing the specifics.

  He began absently tapping a knuckle on the edge of the table then quickly leaned forward. “Dr. Greer, the conclusions that you have reached singly in two years and with a meager budget, took my team of twenty four of the world’s best scientists fifteen years to reach. And that was with an enormous budget.”

  Fifteen years? How long had they been at this? So, what, they needed my speed? And he had full access to my work?

  When he didn’t continue, I picked up my notepad. “What exactly are you Director of? What agency?”

  After asking the question, I looked up at him. His expression clearly let me know that was not what he was looking for from me, but I wasn’t agreeing to anything until I got some answers to my questions.

  He folded his hands together on top of the table and once again engaged me in a staring contest. I maintained our locked status until I saw the resignation cross his face. That was a good boy.

  “The HCF is an extension of the work we do here. At this time, any work you do for us will be under the auspicious of the HCF.”

  “But you are not HCF?”

  “No, technically the HCF is part of us. But we operate at a more classified level than the HCF.”

  That was news to me. I didn’t know there was a higher level, not when it came to hybrid technology. Considering I was the reigning expert, I really should have.

  “So, you work for the United States Government?”

  “Officially, no.”

  “Unofficially?”

  “Yes.”

  His answer added to my anger with the government, who obviously had been holding out on me. Why was I not brought into this before now? Why had I been kept to the periphery when there was a whole lot more going on than what I had been working with?

  Maybe that was the answer. I had played my part as defined by the government. I would be sure not to let them define me again.

  “Do you work for any other government, officially or otherwise?”

  “No.”

  “Are you funded by the US Government?”

  “Partially. Though not officially.”

  I looked up at that. “Where does the rest of the funding come from?”

  “Private sources and proprietary profits.”

  Profits? What part of hybrid technology could they possibly sell and to who? I jotted that down at the end of my list.

  “If found out, could I be arrested for terrorist or terrorist related activities?”

  “No,” he said somewhat angrily.

  Okay, not into terrorism. “Would I be betraying my country in any way?”

  “By whose estimation?”

  Touché. “The military’s.”

  “Most definitely not.”

  Good. I loved the military. “Are you affiliated with the military? The US military.”

  He sighed. “The military is an interested party.”

  It seemed that I hadn’t needed to worry about approaching my contacts in the military. They already knew. Or, at least someone in their ranks did. It was not unexpected that they would want the technology for super soldier type stuff.

  “Only the US military?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he drawled.

  “Is the public at risk?”

  We must have been reaching the very edge of what he was willing to tell me without any commitment from me. He stared at me for a full ten seconds before answering. “Possibly.”

  “Am I right to assume that you cannot answer any technical questions I have about the hybrids or their abilities?”

  “That is correct. The boys down in the lab will be meeting with you for that.”

  “You do understand, Director Garrison, that I will not agree to anything until I know for certain exactly what I am agreeing to?”

  He smiled at me. “I’m beginning to. However, I am so confident that you are going to agree to work for us, Dr. Greer, that I have cleared you for full disclosure with the boys in the lab.”

  He slapped his hands down on the table and pushed his chair back in an obvious sign of dismissal. Walking over to me, he extended his hand and said, “I’ll let Agent Needham handle the rest of the particulars. She will give you access to whatever you need.”

  He placed his other hand over our handshake, “And Dr. Greer, I do mean whatever you need. We are not wholly government funded for a reason. Please make use of that fact. We need answers fast.” With that, he left.

  The bodyguards remained where they were. I guessed they were for me or against me, if necessary. Just what they thought I was capable of, I didn’t know.

  Belatedly, I realized he’d assumed that I’d say yes. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to decide. I didn’t have enough information to know. I’d only made it through half a page of questions.

  Placing the pen on the pad in front of me, I began massaging my stiffened shoulders. This meeting had been more stressful than I had anticipated.

  Agent Needham caught my eye across the table. “Need some stress relief?”

  “That would be nice,” I nodded.

  “I thought we would start with a quick run. I can also give you a tour of the grounds at the same time. Then you have your appointment with Dr. Hollins, which will probably take the rest of the afternoon.” She scooted her chair back and stood up. “We’ll just stop by your room to let you change.”

  Oh, boy. I hadn’t noticed any spare running shoes in the closet. “Does my closet have a pair of running shoes?”

  “What happened to the shoes you came here with?” she asked.

  I so did not want to say this, but she kept looking at me, waiting for me to answer. This was going to tilt the scale in her favor again.

  “NOLA ate them. Well, one of them.”

  Catman, who had been in the process of standing up, stopped halfway with one hand on the table and one hand on the chair.

  “NOLA?” Agent Needham’s face said perplexed, but I could have sworn she had a smile in her voice.

  “The shower,” I sighed.

  All eyes in the room turned to me.

  “You got in the shower with your shoes on?” She asked with her head tilted to the side.

  “I didn’t mean to get in the shower with my clothes on. But NOLA is evil. She trapped me in, and then she started
talking to me and engaged some cycle…” My voice trailed off as I stared at Olivia’s open mouth.

  Catman sat back down.

  Agent Juarez put his hand up and said, “Wait, you got into the shower with all your clothes on and then started it?”

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “I did not intentionally turn on the shower.”

  “What cycle?” This from Olivia, who was now clearly amused and no longer trying to hide it.

  “Ten,” I said reluctantly.

  That was it for Catman. His head hit the table and his shoulders were shaking like a big ol’happy earthquake. The others in the room randomly dissolved into laughter.

  I was never going to live this down.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny,” I protested. “She scalded me and tried to yank my hair out.”

  Those added details only led to more braying from everyone but Agent Pike. He was laughing so hard that he wasn’t making any sound at all.

  Through her tears, Olivia asked, “So how’d you get the goose egg on your forehead?”

  Dang it.

  “Well, there was a lot of soap because NOLA heard more soap when I actually said no more soap. Anyway, I couldn’t really see what slammed me against the door thus producing this knot.”

  The tears were flowing freely now from all corners of the room, except where I sat. Though, I would have been justified in doing so.

  “How’d you get out?” Juarez squealed.

  “I managed to find a voice command she recognized and the door opened.”

  “The one,” Juarez paused, momentarily overtaken by laughter, “you were leaning against?”

  I sighed again. “That very one. I fell out.”

  Agent Needham was now sprawled in her chair, laughing really hard, loud laughs. Not very dignified if you asked me.

  Everyone was so consumed with laughter that I thought maybe they wouldn’t notice if I said the rest quickly enough.

  “I then proceeded to skid against the floor, crash into the tub and spin around.”

  With every detail of my experience, more explosions of laughter erupted. Catman was silently pounding the table with his fist. Even the stoic bodyguards had lost it.