Jonathan took his chance and escaped from the corner, running to stand beside Tracee.
The man struggled with Donovan, pulling at his arms. Each finger seemed to have the strength of ten men—the grip crushed Donovan’s already broken arm. He ignored the pain and held on.
Deciding that he wouldn’t be able pry Donovan from his neck, the man jerked his torso forward, flipping Donovan over his shoulder. The move was so fast and unexpected that Donovan let go and slammed into the table that held Blaise’s unmoving form. It toppled on its side, sending them both to the ground.
In a second, the man was on top of him. Donovan heard shots being fired. He couldn’t breathe. His brain was foggy. He was looking the creature square in the face for the first time. This creature—this man—who was he? It looked like…
“The e-guns aren’t working on him!” Jonathan bellowed.
“I can see that!” Tracee yelled.
Donovan barely held off the man’s efforts to reach his neck. The only thing that kept him fighting through the pain in his arms was the knowledge that, if he didn’t, he would die.
“Tracee!” Donovan yelled. “Do something.”
He could just barely see her over the man’s shoulder.
Tracee dropped her e-gun then reached to her hip and pulled out another weapon.
She fired it. The sound of its explosion echoed around the room. Donovan’s ears rang. He feared that his hearing might be permanently damaged.
For once, the creature halted for more than just two seconds. It seemed to feel the pain. It grunted and let go of Donovan, sensing that the bigger threat was behind him.
Tracee fired again. The creature’s body snapped backwards from the force, but he stepped forward.
Then again and again she fired. The creature recoiled from the shots but then stumbled toward her, arms outstretched. Jonathan stood behind Tracee, mouth hanging open in a combination of terror and shock. If Donovan had had less control over his emotions and been less experienced, he would have looked the same way.
Finally, the creature swayed. In what seemed like slow motion, it collapsed face forward to the floor.
Tracee lowered her gun, breathing hard. Donovan got up, cradling his right arm. He bent to check Blaise’s pulse. He was dead.
Jonathan stared at Tracee as she recovered her breath.
“How’d you…?” Jonathan stuttered.
“It’s a gun,” Tracee said through gasps. “A regular, old-fashioned gun. With bullets.”
“A gun killed that thing?” Jonathan asked. “That’s impossible.”
Donovan took action. He took the sample recorders off Blaise then went back into the other room to do the same with Paula and Eric. He looked toward the glass coffin.
It was empty.
Donovan drew his e-gun again. “Tracee!” he said. If this clone was as strong as that man had been, he’d need her gun. She ran in behind him, weapon at the ready.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
But the room was empty.
Where had the clone gone?
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“Never mind that now. I’ll tell you once we’re all safely out of here.”
“But what about this mess? We can’t leave the place like this. He’ll know we were here.”
“We’ll send someone later. He doesn’t come back for another three weeks. For now we’ve gotta get out of here. You have the only working weapon.”
Only then did Tracee seem to realize the danger they would be in if another enemy showed up. They each carried a fallen comrade out of the room and through the kitchen where there was a door that connected to the garage.
Tracee lowered Paula gently to the ground and went to fetch the sky car.
Donovan heard the garage door open and close. Only then did he open the door and carry Blaise to the skycar. They loaded the bodies into the trunk. Donovan wished they didn’t have to do something so undignified, but it was the only way to return the bodies to the families.
They couldn’t just leave them to rot.
Tracee flew them to the jetcar where they put the corpses into a secure icing unit in the back. It could hold up to five bodies. It would keep them preserved for up to seventy-two hours. At least the families could give them decent funerals.
Donovan had seen men die in awful, bloody ways. Sometimes there was nothing left behind but a single limb—a single arm or leg—to bury. The rest would have been turned to pulp or to ash by the enemy’s weapon.
It was always really heartbreaking to see. The families would cry hysterically at the news.
There could be no viewing of the body. No final goodbyes. It would take a long time for those families to find closure. With no body to look at, how could they even reconcile themselves to the idea that their loved one had encountered death at all? Maybe this wasn’t Denny’s arm. Maybe they had gotten him mixed up with someone else.
But the DNA was always right. There was no room for error.
Donovan, Tracee, and Jonathan cleaned the blood from the trunk until there was no trace of it, even to their own scanners, then returned the skycar.
They walked back to Tracee’s jetcar in silence, hearts heavy with what had happened in Tobias’s lab.
When they boarded the jetcar and the door was closed, Tracee turned on Donovan.
“What happened in there?” she asked.
Jonathan looked from Tracee to Donovan, arms folded across his chest.
“I’d like to know that as well. One moment we were packing up samples, the next we were being attacked by… Well, I don’t know what it was.”
“What was that thing, Donovan?”
They were both skating around the one thing Donovan did not want to talk about—he had yet to have time to think about it himself.
“I don’t know what it was. Clearly not human… Or more than human. It was my first time ever seeing it.”
Tracee looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure you’re on our side?”
Donovan was surprised that the question stung.
“Of course I am.”
“But, come on, Donovan,” Jonathan said. “The thing looked just like you.”
So, at last, someone had said it out loud.
“I know that,” Donovan said calmly. “Imagine turning to face an enemy that looks like it could be your brother. And then having that thing break your arm with a swipe of its hand, killing half your team with little to no effort and nearly strangling you to death!”
His voice had risen by the end. He got himself under control.
“I am not Tobias’s side. I’m not sure what the hell he’s doing, but I plan to figure it out. Don’t forget what I told you—I’m screwed either way, but I’ll be damned if I let my family die.”
Tracee sighed. Her face fell into her hands. She rubbed her eyes with vigor.
“Okay, Donovan,” she said. “We believe you. Tell us what happened.”
Donovan told them how he’d spotted the hidden door and explored it. How he’d seen an exact clone of Tobias, how the man had attacked him from behind, how after the dust had settled the clone was gone.
“I don’t know what to make of it. It’s clear that Tobias was creating clones and I’m sure the records of the test tube samples will show that those were copies of the virus. But that thing… And the clone disappearing…”
Tracee shrugged. She sat in the pilot’s seat. “Let’s leave it for General Umar to think about. Everyone buckle up. Donovan, you take the copilot seat.”
Donovan sat down, uncomfortable with taking over Paula’s position so soon after she was killed. He felt awkward as he clicked the seatbelt home.
“Wait, but what about you?” Donovan asked, suddenly remembering. “Where did you go? You were supposed to be keeping watch.”
“I was,” Tracee said. “I went further up the hall. I thought if someone attacked I’d be able to hold them off until you
guys were prepared to fight. I didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard the tables crashing.”
“I wish you’d been closer.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Then maybe the others would still be alive.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Donovan said.
“I know. But I did.”
They flew to Fort Belvoir in complete silence.
Chapter 8
“The great thing about new friends is that they bring new energy to your soul.”
—Shanna Rodriguez
May 6, 2176
Fort Belvoir, VA
Donovan Knight
Donovan was trying not to see his grandfather as the enemy. It was all he could think about. Even as he had his arm repaired at Fort Belvoir’s Hospital, even as he sat before General Umar that night giving his report, he still wanted to think that his grandfather was somehow innocent. Even after everything that had happened, he imagined something would reveal itself to clear Tobias’s name.
Even after helping to the carry the bodies of his fallen comrades to the morgue, he still hoped to prove that his grandfather was guilt free.
Was he insane? Everything that they had seen so far showed clearly that Tobias was guilty. It didn’t make any sense for him to be skeptical.
But Tobias was his grandfather—the man who had raised him. He wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t be this twisted. Maybe the man they had fought was a clone gone wrong. Maybe that’s why the door had been hidden, just in case anyone discovered the lab…
They were feeble excuses. Donovan knew it, but he held on to them.
General Umar had reacted to the news with a hard expression. He seemed to think the same as Tracee and Jonathan—Tobias was guilty. He dismissed them once the report was over, telling them he would think on the situation. He would let them know what he’d decided in the morning.
Donovan had returned to his room feeling especially gloomy. He stood under the hot shower water long after he was already clean. When he finally climbed into bed it was one o’clock in the morning.
Donovan awoke abruptly to a solid rap on his door. He checked the time on his phone, the bright glow stinging his tired eyes. It was six a.m.—an hour before he was due to talk to General Umar about the next steps on the case. He resigned himself to being tired that day.
“Just a minute,” he yelled to the knocker. He pulled on pants and a t-shirt and opened the door.
It was Jonathan.
“Lieutenant Chaplain,” Donovan said.
“Good morning, BG Knight.” Jonathan didn’t quite meet his eyes. He rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Um, good morning,” Donovan said. “What is this about?”
“May I come in?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
Donovan stepped back. “Yes, sure.”
“Thanks.” Jonathan sat in the desk chair.
Donovan sat across from him on the bed. “What it is?”
“Well,” Jonathan leaned forward, “I need to know something.”
“Okay…”
“It’s not that I’m prying or anything,” Jonathan said. “And I know that you’re a Brigadier General and I’m only a Lieutenant and I shouldn’t be questioning you like this—I mean it’s totally inappropriate…”
Donovan just stared at him, curious but too tired to react.
Jonathan took a shaky breath. “…but I need to know, if I’m going to continue on this case with you.”
Donovan waited.
Jonathan looked down at his hands. “What are your intentions on this mission?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve been watching you and it’s not hard to see that you’re less than enthusiastic about this assignment. You got thrown into it unwittingly and the enemy is your grandfather. I’ve seen the look on your face every time someone says Tobias’s name—every time they say anything negative about him. I can tell you want to defend him, but you can’t. People will think you’re a traitor if you do, but at the same time it’s human nature.”
Donovan was startled that this young redhead had seen so much just by looking at his face. He wasn’t a Lieutenant for nothing.
You’re slipping, Knight. Keep it up and you’ll get yourself killed. You’re lucky this kid is on your side. Donovan wished that General McGregor would just shut up now. He was tired of hearing his criticizing voice.
“My question is, Are you on this mission to prove him innocent or are you trying to find the truth?”
It was a good question. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”
Jonathan gave him a look. He clearly didn’t believe Donovan.
“I’m being honest here. I don’t know. I’ve only been here for three days. Not a lot of time to process.”
“Right.” Donovan could tell that Jonathan was disappointed.
“Look, to be completely honest here… I wish my grandfather were innocent. I’m still trying to convince myself that he’s innocent, that there’s a mistake, that these are just experiments gone wrong. Everything is pointing toward his guilt. But this isn’t just some man. It’s impossible to be neutral. He’s…he’s…”
“Your grandfather. I get it.”
“He’s more than that. He raised me. My parents died when I was thirteen. Tobias is practically my father.”
Jonathan looked at his hands again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. I didn’t realize how close you—but of course you are. That’s why they assigned you to this mission in the first place.”
“Yes… Now you understand.” Donovan was glad that Jonathan had come. He was young, but of all the people here he seemed to be the only one to get what was going on in Donovan’s head.
He missed Nona now more than ever. He wished he could talk to her. Then he remembered that General McGregor had placed a very thorough gag order—even if he could see Nona he wouldn’t be able to confide in her.
All he had right then was this redheaded kid.
“To answer your question, I’m here for the truth—but I don’t necessarily want to hear it. If I can prove my grandfather innocent, I will. But I won’t do or say anything deceptive to do it. If all of the things he’s accused of are true, that makes him my enemy, no matter how much he did for me growing up. No one can mess with my family and walk away.”
Jonathan stood up. “Thank you, BG Knight—for your honesty. I had to know before risking my life for you.”
“I understand.”
Jonathan helped himself outside. Before leaving, he turned around. He smiled, his eyes lined with sympathy.
“You’re very brave, you know.”
Donovan didn’t know what to say. Jonathan closed the door before he could think of a response.
Donovan stared at the door, wondering over the conversation. He thought he’d just made a friend.
Donovan met with General Umar, Jonathan, and Tracee forty-five minutes later. Donovan was tired, but he didn’t regret the conversation with the young Lieutenant that morning. He felt lighter.
He smiled warmly in Jonathan’s direction. Jonathan smiled back.
General Umar looked at them. “You two having some kind of love fest over there?”
They snapped to attention, smiles wiped away in a second. “No, sir,” they said in unison.
“Then take a seat and listen up. We don’t have time for your bromance.”
Tracee stifled a laugh.
When General Umar looked her way there were no traces of humor around her lips.
“I’m assigning Colonel McGregor and Captain Umar to this case. I think they have a certain skill set that will be helpful.”
Tracee and Jonathan’s expressions reflected the surprise that Donovan felt.
“But you can’t assign him…” Donovan ignored General Umar’s affronted look. “He can’t know about his future self.”
“Boy, do not tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“But General…”
“Quiet!”
General Umar said, leaning forward in his seat. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think that an idiot would be in charge of the entire United States Army and Space Force?”
“No, but…”
“Then be quiet and listen.”
Donovan swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.
“As I was saying,” General Umar continue, “Colonel McGregor is the most brilliant mind in technology that we’ve seen in recent years and Captain Brian, though lacking in serious combat skills, is the world’s leading biologist. Both men are the best in their fields.
“Considering that we’re going up against the most intelligent man since Stephen Hawking, I thought it would be a good thing to have the best working on this mission. Are there any objections to that?” It was clearly not a serious question, but Donovan couldn’t shut himself up.
“But what about the time travel laws? No one is supposed to be able to have knowledge of a future self.”
“Colonel McGregor will never know. We’ll change the brief and sign it with a different name. If it doesn’t allow you to edit we’ll make a new one.”
Donovan nodded. He felt a little uncomfortable at the prospect of lying to McGregor, even a younger version of him. He had to admit that they needed him though. Jonathan was good, but McGregor would be far more experienced.
“I’ve already briefed Captain Umar—he has a small team working under him but they don’t know the true nature of the mission. He’s at work analyzing the evidence you all brought back as we speak.
“I sent in another team to return Tobias’s home to normal. They retrieved the body of the man that attacked you. Captain Umar is studying that specimen as well. We’re hoping that when Tobias returns he’ll attribute the disappearance of the thing to its own doing. However, that is unlikely, so we mustn’t rely on that. We have to act as quickly as possible.”
“Sir, what do we do in the meantime?”
“Get as much rest as possible until we get the results of Captain Umar’s tests. Donovan, I need you to get to work on that brief. I’ll summon you all when the results are in.”
General Umar dismissed them.
Donovan returned to his room and opened up the brief on his watch. He tried to delete General McGregor’s name from the document, but it didn’t work.
The Legend of Things Past (Beyond Pluto SciFi Futuristic Aventures Book 1) Page 10