Hybrid Zone Recognition

by C. E. Glines

  Not wanting to risk another fall, I thought it best to stay put until the movement stopped. Little bits of debris continued to rain down around me as the swaying gradually slowed to a stop.

  “What the heck was that,” I said around my coughing.

  Steeling myself for the pain, I gingerly removed my arms and then knees from the floor. I tried to lift them back in the direction they’d been impaled so as to minimize tearing. I didn’t know how successful that was because I could feel blood from all the various cuts soaking through my suit.

  I shrugged out of my jacket and began to rip out the lining. Using my teeth, I tore it into smaller pieces and wrapped it around the largest cuts on my forearms. Then I wrapped the remainder around my palms, securing them with knots on top.

  I didn’t have anything left over for my knees, but since they were not in contact with the surface while I was moving, I just left them alone. Not to mention, I would have had to sit down on the flesh slicing stuff to remove first the boots and then the pants.

  When I determined there was nothing else I could do, I slipped my jacket back on and buttoned it. I didn’t know if I was in shock or if the tunnel was actually chilly, but I was cold and shaking.

  “All the more reason to get out of here,” I said with chattering teeth. “This tunnel has to end at some point.”

  I shut my eyes tight against the images of blocked tunnels pummeling me, along with the new fear of having to retreat back the way I’d come. But on the bright side, there were no bugs. If I’d only thought to ask for it not to be lined with glass shards.

  I slowly shook my head at my current state. Between the dirt, mud, and blood, I probably looked like some kind of tunnel rat. Thankfully, I hadn’t run into any of those either. But I wasn’t afraid of rats, or snakes, or spiders for that matter. That only applied to bugs of the six legged variety. Although, I had to admit, six legs probably would have come in handy for crawling through this tunnel.

  Tentatively, I placed my hands back in their designated positions. Shifting my full weight on them caused sharp burning pain to radiate up my arms. I waited for the pain to dull to a throb before pushing on.

  The padding helped a little. But, after a while, the blood soaked through, and they seemed more like skates than padding. I considered taking it off, but my hands would slip either way. At least this way they had some protection from more damage.

  I had no idea how long it took, but I finally made it to the end. The last few feet of the tunnel floor had become mercifully smooth, and I carefully maneuvered myself to sit with my legs hanging over the side.

  Past the tunnel itself, my outstretched arms couldn’t feel anything. Using my legs, I carefully swung to the left and then the right. I gasped as my right foot made contact with the wall, causing stabbing pains to shoot through my knee.

  Closing my eyes against the pain, I was grateful that at this particular moment, I couldn’t see my knees. I didn’t particularly relish the thought of seeing my own insides. And really, who wanted to see their own insides?

  Balancing myself with my left hand on the ceiling of the tunnel, I leaned forward and placed my right hand on the new wall. I was hoping to find some sort of door, but instead I found steps. Not metal secure steps. No, they like the tunnel, felt like they had been carved into the rock. They were skinny little excuses for steps really, but they didn’t seem to be sharp. That was a welcome change.

  Bringing my hands back, I made sure the knots felt secure. I was well aware of how dangerous the task before me was. My body was already shaking with exertion and or shock, and my hands and forearms were wet and sticky with blood. My feet were okay because of the boots. The knees were a different story.

  Too bad they weren’t thigh high boots. My knees would have had some measure of protection then. Note to self…the next time I go crawling through glass, I would have thigh high boots.

  I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. A few more experiences like this, and I thought I would have this meditation thing down. This was the most deep breathing I’d done my whole life. Not much call for it looking through a microscope.

  No matter which way I spun it, there was no way around it. I was going to have to climb those tinker bell size steps, using my toes and finger tips. Why? Because, though I didn’t recall voting for it, difficult was my new mode of operandi. Dad gum it.

  I wiped my fingertips on my pants in an effort to dry them off. This was going to be tricky. I would need to propel myself off the ledge and onto the ladder, but not hard enough that I bounced off and fell to the depths below. The floor might have been only three feet down, but I wasn’t going to test that out.

  I had measured the distance between the steps at roughly a foot and a half. A little steep for me, but again, no other option presented itself.

  Perching on the ledge, I grabbed ahold of the step.

  “On three,” I sighed, hoping this wouldn’t be the last ladder I ever climbed. I closed my eyes, my prayer sincere this time.

  “One.” Please God, let my feet find the step.

  “Two.” And don’t let me fall.

  “Three.”

  I propelled myself up and out onto the ladder where I slammed into the wall hip first. That was going to leave bruises. My feet scrabbled furiously against the rock, trying to find a step. It seemed like they’d all suddenly disappeared.

  “This better not turn into one of those movies where the steps disappear, and the tunnel magically morphs into a water slide!” I yelled at the shaft. I hated big drops almost as much as I hated bugs.

  Hanging by my fingertips was causing the cuts on my hands and forearms to scream with pain. I recognized that my fingers were slipping, and I forced myself to search with only one foot rather than madly with both.

  The toe of my boot finally caught the edge of a step, and I slid it forward as far as it would go. I brought my other foot alongside it just as my fingers slipped free of the step. Quickly shifting my weight, I pressed forward until I was hugging the wall.

  I remained cemented in place with my heart hammering in my chest and my body shaking violently. I was officially on adrenaline overload.

  “Oh, my God,” I moaned. “When I get my hands on Catman, I’m going to beat the crap out of him.”

  As the shaking subsided, I brought my hands, which were fully extended and flat against the wall, closer to me. The cuts that had never really stopped bleeding were flowing freely again. I knew this would affect my climb, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about it. I couldn’t maneuver myself to rewrap my hands, and even if I managed to somehow do that, I didn’t have anything else to wrap them with. Going back was not an option.

  “I’ll tell you how this changes things. It adds difficulty. Say it with me rock buddies, Dif-fi-cult.”

  I turned my head sideways and rested it against the wall. Did I really just say rock buddies? And to think, I asked God to help me get out here. He must be having a good laugh right now. The angels were probably taking odds. “Let’s see her get out of this one,” I mouthed.

  Great. I had deteriorated to impersonating angels.

  I wondered what my odds really were for getting out of here alive. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

  I didn’t have confidence that my grip alone would support me, so I had to compensate by allowing my legs to bear most of my weight. But I had to position them so that my knees were not directly touching the wall. This left me ascending in a twisted sideways position, not the most favorable position for climbing.

  It didn’t take long for my quads to start protesting their continued use. I agreed they needed rest, but I thought I was working against the clock. I had never pushed my body this hard, and I wasn’t sure how much it could physically take. There was also the probable concussion and blood loss to figure in. If I stopped, I didn’t know if I’d be able to start again. That meant I was climbing until I couldn’t anymore.

  I was negotiating another step when somet
hing grabbed my ankle, causing me to emit a very girly squeal. I was then pressed into the wall as someone came up from underneath me. The smell of fire and fruit flooded my senses. Catman.

  I was overwhelmed with relief right until the anger surfaced.

  “You scared the heck out of me,” I whispered furiously. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

  “I might have startled you, and you might have fallen, possibly knocking us both down the shaft, which goes down another thousand feet,” he said calmly.

  That was the most he’d ever said to me and good point. He would have startled me big time. A thousand feet? Yikes. How deep underground was this facility?

  Even with him on the step below me, his head was still level with mine. He pressed closer and began sniffing vigorously.

  “I smell blood. Where are you injured?” he asked.

  “Stop that, you’re tickling,” I sniggered while shouldering him away. “It’s my hands and arms. And knees, and legs. By the way, the next time I go tunnel crawling, I require thigh high boots.”

  He shifted back some. “Thigh high boots. I see.”

  I couldn’t see his face, but I knew by the uncertain tone in his voice that he clearly did not see.

  “It felt like I was crawling over broken glass. Thigh high boots would have given my knees some measure of protection,” I explained.

  His chest rumbled against my back as he growled softly. “The floor is actually layered with broken glass, among other sharp things.”

  Of course it was.

  “You sent me down the tunnel, knowing I’d be sliced and diced,” I said exasperated. “Was razor wire too expensive for you? You could have added flayed to the menu.”

  “It was not my intention to bring you harm,” he bit back angrily. “It was never intended for human use, but it was the only way to get you safely out of the complex.”

  “Your definition of safely and mine are not the same,” I argued.

  A tense silence settled between us. I could hear both of us breathing heavily, mine mostly from exertion and his from anger. I didn’t think he was used to having to explain himself so much. Oh, well.

  He sighed and leaned in a little closer, placing his forehead against the back of my head. “It was the only way to get you out alive. A few cuts were deemed acceptable when compared to your death.”

  His anger was reflected in every clipped word that he spoke. He was also making it hard to stay mad at him with all these good reasons he had. But he was wrong about the extent of my injuries.

  “I wouldn’t call it a few,” I snapped, but then more softly added, “But I do prefer living to dead.”

  “As. Do. I,” he growled.

  I could feel his breath against my hair as his anger escaped through his words. He inhaled deeply causing his chest to swell against my back. His voice was minus the anger when he next spoke.

  “We should get moving again. I didn’t expect you to start climbing on your own. I almost thought you hadn’t made it when I arrived at the tunnel mouth and you weren’t there, but then I smelled you.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that. Of all the smells I would associate with myself right now, I couldn’t think of one good one.

  I let the comment go along with the anger I was still holding on to. The spurt of energy that had come with the anger, left with it as well, and, as a result, my arms and legs felt like lead weights.

  “Well, I did,” I said, sighing loudly. “I’ve never been much of one for waiting. But if there is an elevator, I’d like to transfer to that now.”

  He snorted softly. “I’d love to oblige, but there’s no elevator, just this ladder.”

  “Figures,” I muttered.

  Why should things be easy, when difficult was so much more fun? Should I clue him in to the new buzzword linked to me? Nah, he’d work that out on his own sooner or later.

  Fingering the ladder—because that was about all that would fit on it—I reiterated my opinion. “It’s not much of a ladder.” I was clearly pouting, but it made me feel a little better.

  He laughed and gently slapped the side of my leg. “Get moving, Greer.”

  Ignoring the pain he’d just caused in my knee and on trembling fingers, I started up the ladder again. He stayed right behind me this time. I wasn’t so worried about falling now. I knew he’d catch me. It was quite the nice feeling actually. His body heat was an added bonus.

  “Ok, I’m moving,” I said after we’d climbed for a while. “You want to fill me in on why somebody is trying to kill me, and don’t give me that BS line about the Director answering my questions.”

  “I won’t. Director Garrison is presumed dead.”

  I was stunned. “What do you mean he’s dead? I just saw him with you a few hours ago. What happened?” I asked, trying to reconcile the difference in my head.

  “There was an explosion.”

  That must have been what rocked the tunnel. “How big an explosion?”

  “Big enough. From reports I’ve received, it appears as if Director Garrison was the target. The blast radius places his office at the center of the debris field. Additionally, all of the preventative security measures and countermeasures for after the fact were disrupted prior to the explosion.”

  “Like the lights going out in the lab and the lack of emergency lights?”

  “Yes, except you were no longer the target.”

  I wondered why I was a target at all and had my escape precipitated Director Garrison’s death?

  “You think he replaced me as the target?” I asked.

  “Replaced, no. He inserted himself between them and their goal, making himself an obstacle to their success.”

  “By bringing me in and giving me full access?”

  He was silent a long moment before answering. “I don’t want you to think that you are responsible for his death.”

  Well, duh. I didn’t blow him up. “Was he the only one killed?”

  “As far as casualties, everyone in our Organization is accounted for. No one that you would recognize is still missing or dead.”

  If everyone was accounted for, then how could some be missing or dead? Unless he was talking about two different entities—Organization as in separate from the Agency?

  “You’re part of a different Agency?”

  “Not an Agency, an Organization,” he said, nudging me to continue climbing. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped.

  “Does this organization have a name?” I asked, pulling myself to the next step.

  “The official name is a mouthful,” he warned. “The Organization for Free and Unhindered Pursuit of Genetic Advancement and Development, which is why we call it simply, the Organization.”

  That was a mouthful. Even the acronym OFUPGAD was too much. “Did Director Garrison belong to the Organization?”

  “He had no knowledge of our existence. That was not my decision, but it was a miscalculation on our part. Within the Agency, only the ones on your team, who are themselves members of the Organization, are aware of its existence.”

  “You mean Olivia, and Agents Juarez and Pike?” I asked as I struggled to find the next step. I kept lifting my leg higher, but it wasn’t there.

  “Yes. Are we taking a rest break?” he asked casually.

  It suddenly struck me that this wasn’t hard for him at all. “No. We are not taking a break!” I spat, breathing heavily again. “I can’t find the step.”

  He grasped the underside of my leg above the knee and lifted my entire body to the next step.

  Well, if he could do that, why wasn’t he just carrying me, I thought grumpily. Mr. Super, Hybrid, Strong Man.

  “You through?” he asked without emotion.

  I was about to ask with what, when I recalled his mental abilities. Dang it, again.

  When I made no move to resume climbing, he leaned in and softly urged, “Get moving, Greer.”

  I had a feeling I’d be hearing that in my dreams at some point in the future.r />
  “Okay,” I said, heaving myself to the next step. Either they were becoming further apart, or I was getting weaker. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up.

  “So, who is trying to kill me and why?” I said breathily.

  “A consortium of people dedicated to the worldwide proliferation of hybridization. At least, that’s what their mission statement says. We just call it the Consortium.”

  I gasped involuntarily as my right foot slipped off the step. Catman quickly placed his hand on my waist to steady me against the wall. Maybe I should focus more on the climbing and not so much the talking.

  That reminded me. I needed to talk to him about the situation at the Agency, both my suspicions and the answer.

  “How much further?” I asked.

  “Not much. You okay?” he asked worriedly.

  Was I okay? No. I was feeling weaker with every step. It was all I could do to make it to the next one. But, again, I was still alive. “I don’t even know how to answer that,” I finally said. “Let’s just make it out of here, and then I’ll grill you some more. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he agreed, and then he wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me with him to the next step. That made it considerably easier to climb.

  Aside from my grunting and occasional outburst when I hit my knees or a particularly sore spot on my hands, we climbed the rest of the way in silence. He remained fixed at my back, assisting me when I needed help, and carrying me when I couldn’t do it at all.

  When we reached the end of the ladder, it widened out, allowing us to stand shoulder to shoulder, sort of. I also discovered that if he hadn’t been here, then I wouldn’t be getting out this way. As it was, he had to lean over me, incidentally squishing me painfully into the tunnel wall, in order to undo the hatch. Agents Juarez and Pike were waiting by the exit and finished lifting the hatch for us.

  “Hey, why couldn’t they open the hatch?” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead.

  “It only opens from the inside,” he answered.