Phaze

by S. C. Mitchell

  Chris opened the door, extended the stairs, and descended to the ground. “So who is Jonathan Wylde?”

  A loaded question.

  Joel had been holding back, even from Chris, hoping to keep Wylde’s profile as low as possible. But after seeing the carnage here, that was no longer a priority. Chris needed to know. With no time for the full story, Joel went with the crib notes version.

  “Wylde is the first augmented human I encountered after starting the Xi Force program. When Wylde was only five years old, his mother died. After that his father, William Wylde, a brilliant but slightly wacko bio-engineer, started experimenting on John, splicing animal DNA into his.”

  “Seriously, what kind of parent does that to their own kid?” Chris scanned the field. “Not that I know anything about having parents.”

  Chris was an orphan, raised in the foster system never having known his real parents. And he was still better off, better adjusted, than Wylde. Considering both, Joel appreciated his somewhat normal upbringing. Nurturing parents, a loving, safe home, sister and two brothers. “Wylde’s had it rough, no doubt about that.”

  As they walked toward the cabin, he messaged Kirk to load the full-spectrum scanning program into his local computer memory. He didn’t want to miss anything that could give them a clue about what happened here.

  Chris crouched, staring at the boot prints in the snow and no doubt running some kind of analysis program on the image. “So what exactly is Wylde?”

  Joel put a hand on Chris’s shoulder as he initiated the program Kirk sent to visually scan the area ahead. “Most days he thinks he’s a wolf. Though he looks completely human he does have quite a bit of wolf DNA spliced into his system. He’s comfortable around his wolf pack, and they accept him as one of them, but he can be a bit jumpy around strangers. Let me take the lead here.”

  Joel had been under tremendous pressure to overlook Jonathan’s delusions and quirkiness just to get the team started back then. He’d resisted. Wylde didn’t really play well with others. At least other people.

  Wolves? That was a completely different matter.

  The dark, furry shape in the blood-stained snow ahead looked to be Tony, the alpha from Wylde’s pack.

  “Oh no.” Joel knelt beside the corpse. Bullet holes riddled the wolf’s hide.

  He found Steve, Hank, and Janet around the other side of the building. It looked as if the pack had come to Wylde’s aid only to be gunned down.

  Pietro and Clint lay by the cabin’s front door. The blood on imprints of human bodies in the snow around them revealed the wolves had fought hard and inflicted their own share of damage, some of it obviously mortal, on the invaders, but whoever’d attacked must have won, as they’d left no human bodies behind.

  The inside of the cabin was trashed. Smashed furniture, dishes, and other wreckage littered the floor. And there was blood everywhere.

  Chris shifted through the debris. “No human bodies, but I’m willing to bet whoever attacked him didn’t escape unharmed.”

  Joel nodded. “Wylde would not have gone peacefully.”

  It had to be Ghaim’s doing, connected somehow to what happened in that other building. But how did it all tie together?

  And where the hell was Wylde?

  ~ ~ ~

  Gooseflesh crept up Kayla’s arms and a chill slithered down her spine.

  Four sheet-draped corpses lay on examination tables in Heather’s ever-changing lab space, though Kayla appreciated the curious lack of what she’d come to call morgue-smell in the room. That scent that always seemed to hang around dead bodies. The cadaver lab at school reeked of it.

  Then again, knowing Heather, she’d probably invented some kind of air purifier.

  “You are not going to believe this.” Heather’s tone held hints of excitement and terror.

  She pulled back the sheet, uncovering one of the bodies.

  The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Physically in decent shape, pale brown hair, close cropped, rugged features. A bit of a beer gut, but not completely out of shape. Guy-next-door type. She wouldn’t have picked him out of a crowd as anything unique or outstanding.

  “Do we know who he is?” Kayla’s question was more conversation than curiosity.

  “Fingerprints identify him as one Bruce Murphy.” Heather pulled a scalpel from the rolling tray stand next to the examination table. “Worked at Brand Security, a Ghaim satellite corporation.”

  She positioned the scalpel over his bare chest and sliced a line down the center.

  Ugh. This was why Kayla switched from the medical field to fabric engineering. Fabric didn’t usually spill out guts when you cut it. A year away from her doctorate, she’d given up and switched majors. she hadn’t been able to handle the creep factor. Blood, bodily fluids, yuck. She had the knowledge, but not the stomach.

  Her father had been disappointed. He’d so wanted a medical doctor in the family. And she’d tried, right up to the end. It was performing her first autopsy that drove her over the edge. Cutting open the body, all the gore, the smells, and death on top of it all.

  “So he worked for Ghaim?” She concentrated on Heather’s face, keeping her gaze off the corpse. How the hell could Heather do this without throwing up?

  Heather shrugged. “He was a police academy drop-out. Kind of a low-level mall cop type. He might not have even known he worked for a criminal organization.”

  She gazed intently at the body below. “There. See that?”

  Kayla hadn’t. She’d been looking away.

  She peeked down at the corpse. The body was just as it had been before.

  Before?

  Just as it had been before Heather sliced a line down his chest, with no trace of the wound.

  Heather sighed and cocked her head. “Okay, I know you hate this. But watch this time.”

  She cut once again. The skin separated from the bottom of the neck to his navel.

  Bile rose inside. Kayla clenched her teeth and swallowed down her rising gorge.

  Before Heather even finished the cut, the severed edge of the skin flaps came alive, writhing and sending out tendrils like the arms of an octopus. One side connected to the other and pulled the skin back together. In seconds, she couldn’t even see where the cut had been.

  “My God. It looks just like . . .”

  It couldn’t be.

  Heather nodded. “That’s why I called you up here.”

  “Cut me a swatch of that skin.” She tamped down the nausea that threatened. She needed to know.

  Heather carved a square from the man’s distended stomach and placed it in a Petri dish. Even away from the rest of the body the edges sent out tendrils, searching, trying to connect. The ragged edges on the body did the same, eventually stretching to close the wound without the severed piece.

  A half hour later she’d confirmed it.

  Her Mutalon formula, applied to human skin and working internally in the body. It was poison, toxic. No wonder those people died. She’d never intended it for humans. Who would have done such a thing?

  And why were they using her stolen technology on people? It was for fabric.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two of the wolf pack were still missing, and Joel owed it to Wylde to try and find them. “Natasha? Wanda?” He called their names, listening for a response.

  His enhanced hearing registered a short yip to the east. The two she-wolves had whelped in the spring. That could be one of the pups.

  Wylde had been top secret, and happy to stay that way, out here away from people.

  The only way Joel could imagine Ghaim finding out about Wylde was the data breach during the Xi Force Headquarters break-in last month. People died, and the computer system was compromised. The security file on Wylde had been part of that
breach but it never occurred to Joel they’d go after him because of it? He was an asterisk, a small file in the vast database of information Ghaim stole.

  Joel had so many other security concerns and clean-up to attend to after that attack. Then, only a few weeks later, that break in that caused Kayla’s transformation. So many more issues to deal with, and he knew Wylde would never have moved from his cabin even if he had been warned.

  Joel ground his teeth. That was no excuse. As head of Xi Force security, this was still on him.

  Yes, technically he’d been dead at the time of the data breach, but cleaning up the mess afterward still fell to him. He’d failed and Wylde and his pack paid the price.

  “Stay here.” Joel didn’t dare take Chris with him. The she-wolves would already be spooked. Any stranger would be attacked. Joel could only hope they didn’t consider him a stranger. It had been a while since he’d been up here.

  I should have come more often.

  A low growl issued from the thicket.

  Joel pushed back the foliage.

  Natasha and Wanda stood ready to pounce in front of their litters. Eight pups, less than six months old.

  “It’s okay, girls. It’s going to be okay. It’s Joel. You know me.” He held out his hand for them to sniff.

  Wanda, ever the skittish one, took a step back, baring her fangs, but Natasha approached slowly, sniffing.

  She could bite him. It wouldn’t matter with his armor. But she didn’t.

  A sorrow-filled groan issued from her.

  “I know, girl. I’m sorry.”

  Tony had been her alpha, her mate.

  Joel put a hand on her head, and stroked behind her ears.

  Braddock_Aaron: Joel, we’ve got a perimeter breach. Found Nixon unconscious. He’s all right, but footprints in the snow indicate a solitary figure heading up the mountain. Should we pursue?

  Could it be?

  Joel: Negative. Chris and I can handle it. Reestablish the perimeter.

  Braddock_Aaron: You think it’s Wylde?

  He could only hope.

  He forwarded the messages to Chris as he gave Natasha one last scratch behind the ear. “Stay here, girl. Guard your pups.”

  Backing out of the thicket, Joel ordered Maggie to take off, but stay close hovering above in the sky. It would be just like Wylde to disable their ride home before checking if it was friend or foe.

  If that was Wylde on his way up the mountain toward them.

  And if it wasn’t?

  Either way, Joel didn’t want to take a chance. He trotted back toward the cabin.

  “Our intruder is on his way up here,” Chris said as Joel met up with him. “Thermal scanning shows one warm body approaching from the south.”

  Joel marked the GPS position as he watched the video Chris’s internal computer streamed to his. The lope-like walk, light on his toes. It sure looked like—

  “No. Fuck, no!” The cry echoing off the mountaintop was followed by a howl so feral it raised gooseflesh on Joel arms.

  No doubt. “It’s Wylde.”

  Scampering on all fours, Wylde broke the tree cover heading toward where Tony’s corpse lay. Matted, black hair hung down beyond his shoulders. Barefooted and bare chested, Wylde loped, an animalistic growl rumbling from his clenched jaws.

  “Let me handle this.” Joel motioned Chris to stay back, then walked slowly toward Wylde.

  Wylde’s intense, golden eyes narrowed as he approached.

  “Why, Joel? Why?” Agony washed his tone.

  Joel held up his hands. “We didn’t do this.”

  Wylde grunted. “I know. I told them not to fight. I told them to run. But no. More fucking drama this way. I have to lose them all.”

  “Not all.” Joel shook his head. “Natasha, Wanda, and the pups survived.”

  Wylde raised an eyebrow. Sniffed. “I should have known. They needed a tragedy. Damn them.”

  “Who did this?” Joel wanted whatever information he could get before Wylde’s delusion kicked in. “Was it Ghaim?”

  “This?” Wylde waved his arms. “You know why this happened. Damn it all. Tony, Steve, the others, they barely made it on the page. Barely lived. It’s not fucking fair.”

  Wylde’s delusion was kicking in. He was babbling gibberish.

  Then his voice rose to a howl. But mid-howl, Wylde grabbed his stomach. He doubled over and rolled on the ground, fingers clawing at his belly.

  Joel knelt by his side. “What is it?”

  “Sick. So goddamned sick. The hypodermic needles, the shit they did to me. I’m going to—”

  He retched. He hurled.

  Joel supported his head.

  “Damn it, move on.” Wylde looked up, eyes glazed. Not at Joel, but as if he was looking through him. “Don’t look at me like this. Turn the page.”

  Tears leaked from his eyes. “Turn the fucking page.”

  Chapter 8

  “Still feeling nauseous?” Kayla checked the monitor for her test results as John Wylde buttoned his shirt.

  “Somewhat, but it’s getting better.” He stood and paced. His gaze swept her lab. “So this is what life feels like.”

  What a curious thing to say. She shrugged. Better to keep this light. “If you call this living.”

  In the Cleaned Up Real Good Olympics, Wylde took the gold. He’d come into the Xi Force Headquarters looking like an animal. Hair in tangles, filthy, and with a stench that covered a range of vomit, rotting vegetation, and urine.

  A shower, some clean clothing, and a shave and she barely recognized the man. His sleek, black hair hung to the center of his back and contained natural streaks of gray and white a beauty shop would charge a fortune to replicate. Chiseled features and a muscular build offered a wealth of eye-candy. But it was his golden eyes that drew a person in. More canine than human, they glowed with a presence that unsettled.

  Joel had hinted that the man was delusional but not dangerous.

  She pulled her gaze back to the computer screen. Tests confirmed his system contained her Mutalon formula. It flowed in his bloodstream and infused his skin. He should have been as dead as the others.

  “I can only assume this is living at this point.” His breath tickled the back of her neck.

  Kayla jumped. Somehow he’d moved silently to stand right behind her. She looked up to find him staring at the screen over her shoulder.

  “Sorry.” He backed off. “Not used to being around people. Wolves don’t require personal space.”

  Joel’s voice drifted over from the doorway. “Could you get used to it, John?”

  Kayla breathed a sigh.

  Wylde hadn’t done anything she’d call threatening, yet he had a presence about him that screamed predator. She’d felt stalked, scrutinized, all the time she’d been examining and testing him.

  “I’m not interested in becoming part of your team, Joel.” He took a deep breath, his eyes glazing. “I have my pack to look after, even though it’s much smaller now. Natasha, Wanda, and their pups will need me more than ever.”

  Joel moved into the room. His tone remained reserved. “You’re not a wolf.”

  “But I’m not exactly human either, am I?” Wylde folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Just some fictional monster dreamed up to cause drama and interest.”

  Joel crooked the side of his mouth. “Maybe. What I need to know is what happened to you. Who took you and where? Was that you in that fifth bed of that upper room?”

  “Big group, probably a dozen or so, full commando gear, came knocking at my door this morning. Said I needed to come with them. I didn’t agree. We fought, they won. Took me to a place, strapped me to a table, shot some shit into me.” Wylde didn’t appear to be one to waste words.

>   He fisted his hands, causing the thick muscle of his upper arms and shoulders to bunch. “Others there. I think four of them, so yeah. Lots of screaming. I broke free and left. They sent someone after me. Teleporter. Familiar scent, but I can’t remember. Lost him. Went home and found you.”

  Wylde obviously wasn’t big on conversation.

  Joel rolled his tongue in his cheek, then sighed. “Okay, that fits with what I have. Any reason you can think of why they came for you?”

  Shrugging, Wylde paced. “Part of the plot, I suppose.”

  The strangest things came out of his mouth.

  Curiosity drove Kayla to ask, “Part of the plot?”

  Wylde sighed, but looked at Joel. “You haven’t told her?”

  Joel harrumphed. “People think you’re crazy enough even without that.”

  Placing her hands on her hips akimbo, Kayla’s gaze traveled between the two men. “Without what?”

  ~ ~ ~

  God. Where to even start?

  Joel drew in a deep breath. “Wylde doesn’t believe any of us are real.”

  Wylde cocked his head. “Not exactly, but close enough. I have a feeling that, to some extent, we are very real at this moment, at least for someone.”

  “But you’re only talking about on-the-page real?” No, he was not buying into this. Wylde could twist his delusion until it seemed so plausible. They’d gone round and round countless times.

  The man had been through three psychotherapists. The first resigned from the case when she started to believe Wylde might be right. The second just gave up. The third certified him delusional but harmless.

  Wylde was anything but harmless, but his delusion had nothing to do with that.

  Kayla’s gaze swept between him and Wylde.