Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1

by Amy Cook

  “Stay away from her, Rat.”

  “No.” His gutter trash mouth sunk into a filthy leer. “Actually I quite enjoy being near her. She has the most deliciously soft skin. I can’t wait to taste it.”

  “Bull pucky! Besides, she ain’t your type, puke face. She ain’t inflatable.”

  “Oh she’s plenty inflated and soft in all the right places for my liking.” Harley drew another deep breath, though he no longer much cared for the idea of practicing control. Foundation couldn’t punish him if they couldn’t find the body. The world wouldn’t miss a dirty leech like Darvis. Harley’s lips drew back in a snarl, instincts raging within, more than ready to make good on the unspoken promise to make Darvey disappear.

  “Harley?” Amiel’s voice forced its way through the growing haze of violence in Harley’s mind, as she moved into the hallway. It broke through his fury like rays of sun amidst a typhoon. Still his instincts kept his eyes pinned on Darvey, refusing to back down with even something as innocent as the shifting of his eyes. As though purposely trying to pull him back from the edge of losing it, her scent caressed his nose, wrapping itself around his Hybrid side which stretched leisurely beneath its touch. A shiver raced Harley’s spine and he fought to keep it from showing outwardly. Darvey shot him a malicious grin before putting on a drama-worthy face for Amiel.

  “Amiel, stay back! He’s crazy!” Amiel ignored him, moving closer to Harley. There was a mixture of confusion and apprehension in her scent that didn’t sit well with Harley’s protective instincts. He could feel her eyes on his skin, feel the warmth of her radiating against his back.

  “I told you once before, Darvey, you don’t get to choose who I am friends with,” she stated firmly, and Harley’s inner darkness practically purred. “Let’s go back inside, Harley,” she whispered at his back, just loud enough for his sensitive ears. She seemed more apprehensive in Darvey’s presence than the day they’d had pancakes together. Had the lametard done something to her since then that was the cause of her new depth of discomfort? Harley’s knuckles popped under the pressure of his clenched fists. Darvey grinned like a world class donkey’s backside.

  “You don’t understand what he is, Amiel, what he is capable of. Now you see the first glimmering of it yourself. I warned you, Chipmunk, I warned you about his true nature! But it’s alright, I forgive you of your innocent nature. Go back inside. I’ll handle this and then we can talk.” Harley’s fist shot out without a second thought, slamming into the wall only millimeters from Darvey’s ear. Cracks rifted through the paint and drywall beneath, etching outward in a chain reaction.

  “Shit!” A surge of pure malicious enjoyment erupted within Harley as the Rat squealed like a girl and made a run for his door. The look of sheer terror was priceless.

  “Some protector you make, Dunkin Donuts. Runnin’ to hide behind ya mama’s skirts. And watch your language in front of the lady!” Harley shouted after his foes retreating form. The Rat turned just outside his door, anger burning in his bulging eyes.

  “Just you wait until you check in tonight, Hybrid. Foundation is going to have your head!”

  “Y’all are assumin’ you’re gonna be alive long enough to tell ‘em,” Harley threatened, pupils dilating as he allowed the rage of his darkness to show through entirely. Darvey paled and slammed his apartment door shut, locks clicking into place immediately. Harley ground his teeth, moving to follow. He froze as a small warm hand pressed to his back, halting him with little effort.

  “Harley, don’t. Please.” His eyes dropped from their targeting on Darbutt’s door, sinking into Amiel’s gaze, her emerald’s anchoring him. “You’ve been through a rough couple of days, and while you are apparently superman, your wounds still aren’t completely healed. Please be careful.” She added a mischievous smile, lightening her statement. “Besides, how would I fix you up again? You used all of my band-aids already.” He blinked down at her. She’d been concerned when Darvey showed, but she’d been concerned for him. His instincts stretched smugly, enjoying this fact. Harley grunted, looking toward the Rat’s door once more, though he already knew he wouldn’t ignore Amiel’s request.

  The darker instincts of a Hybrid were very similar in ways to animals. Hybrids had an ever growing ‘pack’, thanks to Foundation’s efforts. However, there were smaller packs within the larger whole, with members that instinctually gravitated towards others that correlated with their own inner darkness. Once they were accepted into the pack, there was a strong sense of loyalty and devotion held for that new member and vice versa. Harley and Cajun were in a pack together, along with Charleen of course. They were the top of the food chain amongst the Hybrids, having been the first created. Now Amiel had slipped her way into his pack, and his loyalty was to her protection and wellbeing forevermore. And as her protection was not currently in question, he would listen to her pleas. He’d deal with the Rat and Foundation later.

  Placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, he moved to guide her into the apartment, remaining in his protective mode until the door was locked behind them. She turned to him and he nearly groaned when he could practically see the questions in her eyes had doubled. Running a hand through his hair and down to rub his neck he nodded.

  “You want answers, I know.” She bit her lip, conflict now entering the battle for knowledge in her eyes.

  “Is it truly so difficult to talk about?” She paused, then lifted her chin slightly. “If you need more time, I can wait.” Harley’s brow lifted, surprised when his senses confirmed the sincerity of her statement. She really would wait if he told her he wasn’t ready to answer her questions. The idea was tempting. His life was never a story he felt comfortable delving into, even in his own mind. But she was yet again showing her willingness to protect him in her own way, as well as showing her trust in his character. Folding his arms and leaning against the counters, he decided to test the waters, give her a little poke and see how she responded.

  “I thought y’all were hot to trot over gettin’ them answers?”

  “I really would like to know, to understand, you better Harley. But you are my friend, and I don’t want to cause you discomfort. So I can wait.” She smiled bravely, before turning to the fridge. “Would you like something to eat? I’m running a little low, but I have enough to make a few things. And please tell me you don’t want raw fish anymore. Please, please, please.” He allowed a small grin to grace his lips, pleased with her responses.

  “How ‘bout some of them any time of day pancakes.” She glanced up at him, her smile brightening.

  “Now you’re speaking my language.” She smirked, digging in the cupboards and fridge. Harley watched her for a long moment, gathering his courage. She’d earned the truth.

  “I’m what they call a Hybrid.” Amiel froze for a moment, half way inside the fridge. She recovered quickly, moving about her pancake making. He noticed she was careful to avoid looking at him, as if afraid he’d quit talking if she glanced his way. This was good, because he just might lose his nerve if she had.

  “My brother’s fiancé, Charleen, was the first Hybrid in history. Through scientific experiments, she was born with both human and Rabid DNA.” His grin made a reappearance as he watched her mouth drop open in awe, staring down at the pan heating up in front of her. “She was created as a key weapon in the Rabid War. When they thought they had it right, they brought in a couple more experiments to test on. Me and Cajun.”

  “Why you?” Amiel asked carefully. Instead of clamming up at her question, Harley was surprised to find he felt approval that she was joining in. Weird.

  “The Hybrid DNA is picky. It has to be given to the right candidates, with the right DNA mixture. It just so happens to enjoy the taste of cancer.” Amiel turned to look at him, left brow quirking in surprise. He chuckled quietly as she remembered herself and quickly turned back around.

  “The Hybrid formulation can only be used on those who have a family history of cancer. The closer the link to cancer, the
more stable the subject is. Usually. There are always exceptions to any rule,” he added gruffly, remembering a few people who had been prime candidates and were put down within days. “Some cancers are more appealin’ than others. It also depends on the subject’s predisposition and personality beforehand.”

  “So that’s why they chose you. Because Cajun had cancer,” she surmised. Harley suddenly wondered just how much Tandy had told her about them.

  “Right. One of the more aggressive and life threatenin’ forms of cancer. Brain cancer.” He shifted against the counter, the rising memories making his insides itchy. “Doctors did surgery on him in the beginnin’. Took out a tumor the size of a lemon. Said they still didn’t get it all, that it was too dangerous to dig for the rest. Took all the money we had saved up just for that much. We moved up north to participate in some programs they still offered up there for cancer patients, but the meds weren’t without their heavy price tags. Caj and I started workin’ at a mechanic shop to earn a lil extra money. Cajun was sick a lot, so he couldn’t work much. Pops would send us some money as he could. We’d buy meds when money allowed, go without when it didn’t. Needless to say the cancer was winnin’.” Amiel turned to him, silently handing him a plate of pancakes and eggs, the sympathy in her eyes saying what her mouth didn’t. He nodded his thanks, continuing his story between bites.

  “Somehow Caj found out about this experimental government program. He still ain’t never told me exactly how, neither.” He grunted in annoyance as his accent flared up a bit under the uncomfortable subject matter. “Anyway, there was some government experiment goin’ on back home that they was lookin’ for volunteers for, and Cajun was a prime candidate. That’s when we met Charleen. She showed up with a whole trail of desperate idiots just like us, waitin’ for their turn to be experimented on. We were the last on the list to hop on the band wagon. That’s how we joined Foundation.” Amiel finished making her food and motioned for him to follow her. She sunk onto the bed, indicating that he should sit in the chair. He was grateful for it, as his limbs were quickly losing their ability to function. Side effects from the Collapse sucked. It wouldn’t be long before his legs and hands started twitching. He hoped it would be minimal this go around, not feeling particularly inclined for more embarrassment.

  “What is Foundation exactly?” she asked, lounging cross-legged and taking a drink of her orange juice. He stared distractedly at her throat as it moved the liquid down.

  “Foundation is the government extension made for just handlin’ the Hybrid experiment.” He shrugged, hoping she would leave it at that. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully while munching on another bite. He smirked, wondering how anyone could make something so simple as watching another person eat, enjoyable.

  “So, the night you saved me. You said I wouldn’t want anything to do with your job. Were you talking about Foundation?” He nodded silently. “Wait. What happened with Cajun’s cancer?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone? But how? I thought the treatments weren’t working?”

  “They weren’t.”

  “So, you’re saying this Hybrid stuff cures cancer?” She gasped, disbelief and wonder warring in her features.

  “I suppose it’s not so much gone or cured, as it is…accepted.” Her brow drew down at his explanation. “I guess I should start at the beginnin’. Back when things were still normal, a buncha dweeb scientists created a cure for the common cold. Then it became a miracle cure for just about everythin’ else. Only it wasn’t as much of a miracle drug as they thought. The clinical trials were huge and by the time they found out ‘bout the long term effects, far too many had it in their systems to stop what came next.”

  “What were the long term effects?”

  “In the beginnin’, people felt the best they ever had their entire life. Stronger, faster, illness was no longer an issue, and they felt nearly invincible. It also gave a sense of sheer euphoria. The chemical makeup of the brain shifted, changed to accept the illness that threatened it, rather than fightin’ it. It wasn’t til months later that the negative- and permanent- effects showed. The trial recipients started showin’ signs of aggression, anger, suspicion, and paranoia. And then, they started disappearin’. The lead scientist responsible for findin’ the cure was the first. The public was told that he disappeared; his office and home were found completely wrecked. The general consensus was that someone had kidnapped him in hopes of forcin’ him to make the miracle drug for them to sell on the black market. The miracle drug was put on hold, and they told the public that the drug and all of the research regardin’ it was stolen or destroyed, that they had no way of makin’ more until the lead dweeb was found. What the public didn’t know is that there had been no kidnappin’. The guy had gone completely nutty, tore apart his home and office, and destroyed his own research because of his extreme paranoia that someone was after his work. They had it all on video. Foundation has it now.”

  “Wow. I had no idea,” Amiel said, food forgotten in her lap.

  “Most people don’t. Things started movin’ fast after that. Turns out that the guy hadn’t destroyed all of the drug after all. What was left of it was hidden away in a secret warehouse, because the scientists on the Miracle Drug team wanted to keep it hidden until they could better understand the implications. The clinical trial participants had all disappeared, the lead scientist had disappeared, and all of their research was destroyed. The information they had gathered previously pointed to the fact that somethin’ uncontrollable and dangerous was resultin’ from the drug use. The brain changed its chemical makeup to accept the illnesses and strengthen the body rather than destroy it, sure. But the problem laid in the fact that it didn’t stop changin’. It evolved continually, focusin’ on the aggressive, primal sections of the brain, expandin’ them. And once that chemical makeup was changed, there was no changin’ it back. There was no cure for the cure. So they locked it away, neither the scientists or the financial backers eager to pick the project up again.”

  “Gosh.”

  “Yep.”

  “So, the trial people…they were the first Rabids.”

  “Sure were. Spread of infection began with them. No one knew of the danger then. Spouses, children, friends, all of ‘em in immediate contact with the trial subjects and the infection. Intimacy, sharin’ a drink, cleanin’ up a cut or scrape, sharin’ a handshake after a sneeze or paper cut. It spread from person to person fairly quickly, but quietly. No one knew what to expect, no one knew there was a problem. People would become infected, feel wonderful for the first few months, and then it would hit ‘em. If they lasted that long. There was an uprisin’ in gruesome murders those first few months after the drug disappeared. Cannibalism became a common factor in those murders. It didn’t help that a month after the drug went into storage, the warehouse was cleaned out. The scientists swear it was a mass robbery, that people discovered where it was stored, stole it, and were now sellin’ it on the black. However, Foundation has suspicions that the scientists turned a blind eye when the drugs were stolen, maybe even orchestrated the theft themselves. And of course, the public never knew, ‘cause as far as they were concerned, the drug had been destroyed by the lead scientist.”

  “Why would they do that?” she asked, anger clearly written on her face. He shrugged.

  “They didn’t want to have to bother with the responsibility of the drug’s side effects. This way they could be absolved of all responsibility, wash their hands of it. Or so they thought. But when it went out on the street illegally, the infection spread like wild fire. They sold it on the black under the name ‘Salt”, and people went wild over it.

  “Imagine it. Prostitutes with STD’s grabbin’ the drug off the black and continuin’ on with their occupation thinkin’ they were cured. Every person they were in contact with, it spread. Athletes used it to enhance their abilities. Anyone who had an illness that they couldn’t afford hospital bills to treat, or life threatenin’ diseases, they were clawin’ aft
er the leaked miracle drug on the black market. All it takes is one drop and the infection’s in. And of course the media couldn’t keep up with the amount of news stories that poured in each day, much less worry about findin’ the source.” He could see her imagining the thousands of possible scenarios and the numbers piling up from each.

  “Wow. Just wow.” He nodded, sitting back as she digested the new information. She now knew a whole lot more than most people did.

  “So that explains how Rabids came to be. But what about Hybrids? You said your brother’s fiancé was created as a weapon in the War?”

  “Charleen was the first. After the Rabid war had been goin’ on for years, scientists knew they had to do somethin’ to try and reverse the effects or there wouldn’t be anythin’ left of humanity. They had massive teams workin’ endlessly to find the cure. Eventually two scientists got together, formulatin’ a plan in secret, one that none of their colleagues knew about. The scientific community’s serums had never worked, breakin’ down before they were hours old, failin’ to block the infection. The two scientists came up with their own serum, mixed it with the infection, and put it in a test tube baby created from their combined genetics.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened, rounding out in horror.

  “The two of them had figured out the connection to cancer then, and both of them had close relations with cancer themselves, makin’ them prime candidates for the creation of the test tube baby. The plan was to grow these test tube babies with the serum, the combination formin’ an alliance that would negate the bad with the good, in a body that could handle the bondin’.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “It wasn’t to them. It meant savin’ the lives of millions, and goin’ down in history as the two people who literally saved the world.”