Rise of the Transgenics

by J. S. Frankel

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Harry noted with a smile.

  Farrell’s impassive expression didn’t change. “I’m sure we will. Officially, we’re denying that we had a role in it.” Sighing, he added, “However, the President has been informed of the situation and he’s taking steps to remedy it.”

  Anastasia, who’d been standing quietly and examining her claws, walked over to the agent and quietly enquired, “Would you put us in jail?”

  “No.”

  The answer, quietly delivered, brought a polite nod from her. For Harry, though, it still didn’t answer a lot of questions. “So what happens now?”

  A soft grunt came from Farrell. “When Merton died, the entire organization got thrown into disarray. No one is leading it now, except me. The Washington boys have asked me to stay on as temporary Director until they get someone else...if they want. My first act was to cut all ties with ASR. They’ll want to study you, and,” he shook his head, “I won’t allow that.”

  Grateful as Harry felt, he still didn’t trust the agency, not entirely. “So, do you want us to keep working for you?”

  “It was our hope.” Looking at Anastasia, he gave her a brief nod. “Your citizenship here is a given. The President authorized it, and your passport, social security number—everything—should come through in a matter of weeks. That’s my promise.”

  With that information, Harry thought the matter over and glanced at Anastasia. She gave her head a quick shake. “I, um, thanks for the citizenship,” she said, “but I’m going to go with my boyfriend on whatever he decides.”

  The message was clear. Trust, but verify. “I think we’ll be better off on our own,” Harry said. “At least for now, we will.”

  When the agent started to protest, he held up his hand. “Hang on a second. I didn’t say no, but Anastasia and I need to find out if there are any more of our kind walking around. Grushenko said there were others. You just said the same thing. Maybe they’ve escaped and are hiding in Russia or in other countries. We have to find them first and find out whether they’re on our side or not. They may not be, but...” he paused to consider his next words carefully... “Just in case, we want to do this on our own.

  “We’ll stay in touch, though. And I’ll come back from time to time to check in with my findings.” He closed the laptop, disconnected the modem, and hunted around for a bag. Finding one, he slipped the equipment in along with the discs and handed it over to Anastasia. She wore a grin and actually seemed to be enjoying this.

  “And where do you think you’re going with that?” Farrell asked, pointing at the bag.

  “Somewhere safe,” Harry replied. “Last time we left this with you, things got smashed. They won’t with me—er, us,” he said, pointing at his girlfriend.

  Farrell’s mouth curved downward at the corners. Clearly, he did not like being put on the defensive. “Both of you just hear me out for a second. You saw how those Russian agents came after us. They came after you. You need protection, there’s a war going on—”

  “There’s no war going on,” Anastasia interrupted, and this time her tone turned fierce. “Not yet. This isn’t a war, Agent Farrell. It’s not like a movie where it’s us against you or us against them. It’s just us.”

  She linked arms with Harry. “For now, it’s just us, and we want to find out where we stand. At first, I didn’t know why I’d been turned into the person I am, and now I do. I know where I came from, know who I was, and it doesn’t matter.

  “What matters is I’m happier this way, now that...” she pulled Harry closer to her, “now that someone I care for is with me—and is like me. So give me that, at the very least.”

  Farrell let a tiny sigh of what had to be supreme frustration. With his good hand, he waved at the door. “I called off the security. The building is empty, so you can use the back door and take it from there.”

  The young couple went to the exit, but halfway out, Harry turned back and repeated his promise. “We’ll check in from time to time. Count on it.”

  His eyes widened when he saw Farrell toss a key at him. “Use it,” the agent said. “No one’s going to see you up there.”

  Pocketing the key, Harry took his girlfriend’s hand and they made their way up the stairs to the lobby, where it was quiet. They stole out the back door into the night, and while making their way through the back alleys—climbing walls and jumping were no problem for Harry, not anymore.

  Anastasia asked him if he was going to help the FBI out. “I promised, didn’t I?” he said with a smile. The smile held a look of playful deceit in it. “I just didn’t say when.”

  She giggled. “You are really bad, you know that? Where do we go now?”

  “To see a friend,” he answered. “C’mon. He’ll be there.”

  Reaching Jason’s house a couple of hours later, Harry climbed a tree—and he marveled at how easy it was to scale it—and knocked on Jason’s window. Tall, skinny Jason opened up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes while he stared at his friend. “Man, you’ve changed.”

  He blinked again. Anastasia crouched behind Harry on a branch. “Uh, it’s almost midnight, and I’ve gotta go to school tomorrow,” he whispered after sneaking a furtive glance behind him. “You look pretty hot,” he said to Anastasia and added, this time looking at Harry, “You don’t.”

  “Very funny.”

  Jason’s smile faded somewhat. “What’s going on? You need anything?”

  Anastasia whispered something into Harry’s ear and he relayed the message. “A couple of memory sticks, another modem, and a computer with the biggest memory you’ve got would be fine. I’ve got one, but I may need another.”

  Jason didn’t seem fazed at all. “Hang on a second. Be right back.”

  While his friend crept out of the room, Harry turned around and found his girlfriend gazing up at the moon. “You’re not going to yowl, are you?”

  She smacked him on the arm—gently. “No, just looking at how pretty it is.”

  “Hey, guys!”

  Jason was back, and he carried a large backpack. “Everything’s inside. Don’t worry. Find your cure, uh, I mean, if you want one.”

  Digging into his pocket, he took out the vials he’d brought back from Russia. Handing them over, he said, “Give these to the oncologist treating your aunt. He’ll know what to do with them. They might help.”

  Jason’s mouth dropped open, and a second later, Anastasia moved forward to place a gentle peck on his cheek. “Thanks,” he whispered. “See you guys later.”

  Dropping gently to the ground, Anastasia tested the air. “It’s safe. We’d better go.” She started to move off, and then turned back. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  Harry pointed with his finger. “That’s where we’re going—north.”

  They set off, keeping to the back streets, and once at the city’s edge, they took to the forest. Anastasia set a fast running pace, and Harry found that he could keep up with her. Trying to keep a joyous shout from emerging, he couldn’t and let out a “Wahoo!”

  “Are you happy?” she asked.

  “Is it always like this?”

  “This is what it’s supposed to be like,” she said, only panting slightly. “Free, we’re free.”

  About three hours later, tired and winded, they reached their destination, the log cabin in the Catskill Mountains. “You’re in pretty good shape,” she commented as they stood outside the log cabin. It was the same cabin they’d stayed in six months earlier. Courtesy of the FBI, it was theirs to use for however long they wanted.

  “It’s ours?” Anastasia asked.

  “For now it is. Farrell knows where we are, and I’m sure they’re going to keep an eye on us.”

  Entering, they set up shop. The cabin had been upgraded since last he’d been there. Formerly, it had been a spare place with only the basic furniture and kitchenware. Now, a plush carpet lined the floor, it had two refrigerators, books of all sorts on numerous shelves,
a television, and Internet connections. As he turned on the power, a generator outside began to work, and it was a noisy one.

  Harry set up his computer and got to work right away, while Anastasia checked the larder. “Hey, it’s full,” she announced over the din. “I’ll put some steaks on.”

  “Sounds good,” he called back.

  Dinner was soon ready, and when she called him, Harry shut off the computer and switched off the generator outside for a little peace. They ate without talking very much, but and after finishing up, Anastasia took his hand and guided him to the bedroom. “It’ll be quiet here,” she said, pulling him down beside her.

  “Yes, it will.”

  They lay in each other’s arms, and Anastasia popped the inevitable question. “Do you think we can actually find the others? I mean those who are like us?”

  Harry offered a gentle shrug. He honestly didn’t know the answer, but licked his lips before replying. “If there are, we’ll find them...or they’ll find us. Do you want to start looking now?”

  Anastasia kissed him on the mouth, her whiskers tickling his face. Her voice came out husky and altogether sexy, winning and girlish at the same time. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

  When he started to say something, she put her fingers to his lips. “I know. Just don’t scratch.”

  The End

  About the Author

  J.S. Frankel was born in Toronto, Ontario, many years ago, and managed to scrape through university, earning his degree in English Literature.

  In 1988, he moved to Japan to begin his career of teaching English conversation to anyone brave enough to step into his classroom. In 1997, he married the charming Akiko Koike, and their union produced two sons, Kai and Ray. Frankel and family make their home in Osaka, where he teaches English conversation by day and writes until the wee hours of the morning. He is the author of Catnip, Catnip 2: Rise of the Transgenics, Death Bytes, Twisted, and the Lindsay/Jo Trilogy. Next to his family, writing remains his greatest love.