by Ramy Vance
“Or at least slow them down,” I muttered.
She was right.
But that didn’t make what we were proposing any more possible.
Or less scary.
But Yemoja, my goddess, never asked us to be naïve or stupid. Or weak. She taught us to be smart, use our wits and shapeshifting abilities for subterfuge.
She taught us to do what was right.
I nodded.
“And you must admit the venom and experiments on the cadets, the fights and random acts of violence that the campus has been experiencing … that sounds like someone is trying to tweak human DNA, doesn’t it?”
I nodded again.
A silence fell between us. A silence I broke with, “Heaviest burden possible, huh? OK, I’ll do it, Katrina Darling. I will use my abilities to infiltrate the World Army and confirm their purpose.”
“Let’s go,” she said.
I nodded, shifting to look like Serena Russo. Because I had done it before, I only burned away a few seconds of my life.
A small sacrifice to do what was right. A small sacrifice in order for me to carry the heaviest burden possible.
Kat was clearly impressed when she saw me do that, because her eyes widened and her lips parted with amazement.
“I’m ready now,” I said.
“No,” she said. “Not quite yet. There’s still something we need to do.”
HUMAN NERDS AND OTHER GEEKS
We took a taxi to a local home security shop to gear me up. Seems that Kat wanted to gear me up with some surveillance equipment so she could ‘ride along’ when I dove into the World Army’s true intentions.
Part of me thought this whole expedition was cute. I mean, I was an encantado. Espionage and infiltration were kind of our thing. I knew how to get in and out of places undetected, how to seduce for information and how dig up dirty little secrets. I’d been doing it for five hundred years.
Kat on the other hand, was an overpowered vampire who could bite herself out of any situation.
But I understood her desire to ‘ride along,’ and I was grateful. However good I was at subterfuge, she would also have one trump card on me … she was better at being human that I was. She could see things I’d miss. Especially in this modern, GoneGod World of gigabytes of data, cloud storage and emojis (I mean, seriously, do you really need to express happiness with a smiley face? Can’t you just say you’re happy?)
We entered the shop that was far seedier than I’d expected. I mean, it was right across the street from a strip club in a part of town that McGill literally gave us brochures for, outlining how not to go here.
This was meant to be a place where you got your home security needs met. Instead, I felt like we were in the place where Jesse and Walter White got equipment for their extracurricular needs.
And not to stereotype, but when the guy behind the counter has long, dreadlocked hair, nose piercings and a neck tattoo of a skeleton sticking up its middle finger, well, it raises some red flags.
Every part of me wanted to turn around and leave. But Kat walked right up to the guy and put her very expensive Louis Vuitton purse on the counter with a resounding thud.
She was sending this guy a message: I’ve got money and I’m here to spend it.
And from the way the tattooed man smiled, I saw she got his attention. OK, Isa, take note. That’s a move that will serve me well in the future.
“How can I help you ladies?” he asked in a very heavy Quebecois accent. He spoke in English, evidently labelling us as the Anglophone foreigners that we were.
And Kat played into that beautifully. She leaned over the counter, doing her cleavage trick she’d pulled on Justin, and spoke in a Southern accent. “We’re looking for a little something that will help us … ahhh … record things from a distance, if you know what I mean.”
The guy licked his lips, not bothering to hide where his eyes were going. “We talking full HD, panned-out kind of recording? You know, for the Pornhub?”
“The Pornhub?” Kat said, her accent considerably less Southern and more Scottish. “Ewww, no. Yuk. What do you take us for?” Kat slammed her hand on the counter, pulling her purse off it like she was going to storm out.
At least, that’s how I interpreted it. I was already at the door, holding it open for her.
He sighed, lifting his hands up in a defensive manner. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just see two lovely ladies like you coming into a place like this and figure—”
“That we’re doing porn?”
He scrunched his lips and nodded. “Can you blame me?” He pointed across the street at the strip club that, despite it being four in the afternoon, was thumping.
“I guess not,” Kat said. “But we’re not here for that.”
“That’s too—”
“Don’t say it.”
He shut up.
“We’re here because my friend over there is going through a terrible divorce.”
“Quelle tristesse,” he said, and I swear to the GoneGods he gave me a suggestive smile and subtle wink. “Maybe I can help in more than one way with that.”
“Ahh, no thank you,” I said, diverting my gaze. What was wrong with me? If I was in another form, I’d be all guns-blazing tough. But in this form—the form I chose to represent myself in this world—I was, sadly, myself. Shy and totally not into confrontation.
For someone who can literally reinvent herself on a daily basis, I wasn’t very good at choosing more assertive personalities.
“Too bad,” he said, turning his attention to Kat. “And let me guess, you want to catch him with someone else?”
“Seriously, dude, is sex all you can think about?”
“It’s one of my best features.” He stuck out his tongue, showing off a piercing. “Not the only place pierced for your pleasure.”
Kat slammed another hand on the table. “Focus. She’s going to have a sit-down with him, and I want to be by her side without being there. I want to see what she sees, hear what she hears and be able to feed her zingers that that will make his penis shrivel.”
“Zig-gars?”
“Zingers. You know, witty comebacks …” Kat sighed. I, on the other hand, loved that he didn’t know the word. As an Other, I’m often subjected to human expressions I don’t know. To see an actual human suffering the same thing was … well, it made me feel like I belonged.
“I see,” he said. “Zingers. Come with me.” He motioned for us to follow him in the back room.
No way I was going to do that.
But when Kat grabbed her bag and confidently followed him to the inner bowels of this seedy, suspect place without concern or caution, I knew I had to follow, too.
I needed to be brave.
I needed to be more like Kat.
Still, getting killed in a place like this didn’t really feel like the best expression of ‘carrying the heaviest burden possible.’
↔
WE DIDN’T GET KILLED. If anything, it was nicer in the back than the store front, with a plush leather couch in reasonable condition and a Nespresso machine that tattoo guy used to make us coffee.
Then he went to work, acting far more competently than I had previous thought he would.
He outfitted me with a camera pin that I could attach to my shirt, a tiny earpiece that, if I wore my hair right, would cover it up and a … “Wait, what’s that?”
“A waterproof mic,” he said, putting his hands way too close to my mouth. “It’s so she can hear you.”
“In my mouth.”
“It’s not like you can carry a mic in your hand, is it?”
“No,” I said, “but don’t the camera or earpiece have a mic in them?”
He shook his head. “Too small and too much ambient noise. This is the latest tech from Memnock Securities. Very useful when getting into places that you shouldn’t be. Also very useful when dealing with Others whose super-powerful eyes that can detect this kind of stuff. Not that they’re smart enough to not
ice. Stupid walking myths.”
He said those last words like they were an insult. I had never heard that before, especially not as an insult, but I loved the expression—walking myths. That was exactly what we were.
Kat, on the other hand, took issue. “Walking myths? Like The Walking Dead, only real and mythical?”
He scowled. “Yes, walking myths—like they should be. Anyway, this tech is the latest from Memnock Securities, god bless them.”
“Don’t you mean GoneGod bless them?” I said.
Kat turned, nodding with approval, and getting that little ‘good one’ from her made me feel like I was going to blush. Good thing I was an Other who could control those kind of things; I made sure my cheeks didn’t rouge up with embarrassment.
“Whatever. They’re expensive, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you, eh?” He looked at Kat’s purse.
“I’ll need you to set everything up for us,” Kat said.
“More expensive.”
“And I’ll need a van.”
“Again … more expensive.”
“And we’ll need you to drive it.”
“Tabernacle … That will be a lot of money, even for a rich anglophone like you.”
“Oh, is that a fact,” she said, pulling out a black American Express card. “Well, good thing I’m made of money.”
LET THE GAMES BEGIN
I entered the World Army’s labs looking like myself, Isabella Ramirez, my heart racing as I went through security.
The metal detector beeped as I walked through, and for a moment I thought for sure that they’d find the surveillance equipment hidden in the inner seam of my pants pocket. But the guards knew me. Well, specifically, Merl knew me. He was tiny, even for a dwarf, not that that meant anything. He was as wide as he was tall, and the softest bit on his body was his security guard uniform.
That and his heart. He gave me the biggest smile as he gestured for me to come over. “Hey there, Isa,” he said with a big dwarven smile that was covered by his beard. “How goes it?”
“Oh you know, same old, same old,” I said, forcing my tone to be even and calm. I might be able to control whether or not my cheeks blush, but it was much harder to control my voice.
They were two different functions, blushing more like an on/off switch than anything else.
But my voice. That was different—that was something that I couldn’t will to behave one way or another.
I needed to be calm to sound calm.
And I was anything but calm.
“Sorry about this, but humans have their protocol,” he said as he waved his magic wand over my body.
“Don’t we all,” I said.
As soon as the wand went over my pocket, it beeped again. “Something in your pocket?”
I forced a casual smile. “Oh yes.” I pulled out a Twinkie and handed it to Merl. “For you.”
He laughed as he waved the wand over the Twinkie. It beeped as soon as it was close enough to the tasty treat’s plastic packaging.
“Thanks, Isa.” He took the Twinkie. “You have a great day.”
“You too, Merl. You too.” I sighed with relief as I entered the World Army’s Montreal Headquarters.
↔
KAT’S VOICE piped through my ear. “That was pretty slick.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to get used to the mouth mic. I stepped outside of the toilet stall, immediately regretting that I didn’t pee before putting all the equipment on.
One of the things about being mortal: you had to go to the bathroom. Like, every day. Multiple times a day. That wasn’t something I was used to as an immortal, mythical being. And sometimes I forgot to do it until it was too late.
Lamenting my missed opportunity, and too shy to do it “in front of” Kat, I resigned myself to a day of holding it and stepped out of the bathroom.
↔
THE UPPER LEVELS of the World Army Headquarters didn’t look like a military base. At least, not one that I ever saw on any of the movies I watched with Aimee (but then again, we were usually stoned, so maybe I missed something).
Rather, this place looked like your typical office building, with cubicles and desks and people in conservative clothing and ties moving about with purpose.
Then there were the lower levels, where the labs were. And again, nothing suspect there. I mean, in the movies they make labs seem like high-tech, ridiculously clean, all-white places.
But the labs here were more of an off-white. And as for clean, I swear humans, with all their susceptibility to disease, sure don’t take hygiene too seriously. This place was covered with the marks of dirt and dust.
The only place that was sterile was the equipment itself. It had to be if we were going to get real results, and I spent more time making sure my experiments weren’t tainted with bacteria—or worse—than actually experimenting.
It was a real downgrade, actually, from working in the lab on campus. There, everything had always been ultra clean. Standards were higher, because the work we were doing was so valued.
But somebody (who was absolutely not an encantado disguised as Serena herself) had broken into Serena Russo’s office on campus, which meant we’d had to relocate to the World Army’s far-more-secure (and far dirtier) headquarters.
How I wished these labs were the puritan white of the movies. I would have mapped the Other genome by now if that were the case.
I walked to my lab and went about my business cleaning, mixing and testing while I waited for my chance to go deeper.
Deeper, through the elevator that needed a security pass to unlock. Deeper into whatever dungeon sat below me that I didn’t have security clearance for. Where the World Army did their real experiments …
But in order to get there, I needed a pass. And getting a pass meant stealing one.
Stealing one meant taking it from someone who didn’t know I’d taken it from them and then returning it before they knew it was gone.
Which was exactly what we planned to do. But our plan meant that we had to wait for Serena to show up. And as I stared outside my lab window at her unoccupied office, I wondered if she’d ever show up.
Show up so that I could finish the mission and finally get to pee.
↔
SERENA FINALLY SHOWED up at about noon. She looked tired, like she’d been up all night doing whatever people like Serena did. Her haggard eyes didn’t even look up as I followed her into her office and saw exactly what I wanted from her …
Her pass, sitting on the desk.
Part of me just wanted to grab it and run. But given that I needed to actually use it to investigate, I didn’t think that would work too well. I needed to use guile.
Actually, I needed to pee.
“What can I do for you, Isa?” she said with the air of one who didn’t have the time or patience to deal with me.
“Justin,” I said, letting the word linger.
“What about him?”
“I need data, lab results, theories and venom to help with the antidote. I need—”
She lifted a hand. “You need to remember: you work for me.”
I was taken aback by this. I had expected resistance, but Serena had always been nice to me. Respectful. Now she was silencing me like I was some minion or servant.
“See? She’s showing her true colors now,” Kat’s voice said in my earpiece. I also heard lips smack like someone was eating a hearty meal.
Mergen—another Other I had just met today—was by Kat’s side, listening in on everything, verifying the truth in whatever I saw or heard.
Yes, but she was always so good at hiding those colors. What’s changed? I thought, not daring to share my thoughts out loud with Kat, lest Serena hear me. I also thought, Something is wrong—very wrong—with her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that I’m worried about Justin—about all of them—and I want to help. You said it yourself—I am one of the most qualified people in existence that can help.”
/> Serena sighed and tapped something in her computer. I made sure to angle the hidden camera so that Kat could see the code she typed in.
“Got it,” Kat chirped in my ear.
Then Serena pulled out a thumbprint pad and put her index finger on it.
“Shit,” Kat muttered. “We can’t fake that.”
Oh yes we can, I thought.
Serena tapped at her keyboard some more before sighing. “He’s under treatment below. Everything looks promising … All vitals are heading in the right direction.”
“Maybe I can speed it along and—”
Dr. Russo raised a hand, silencing me. “Isa, as you can see, I’m exhausted. It was a long night. My …”
She cut herself off. But I’d been around enough humans to know she was about to tell me why she was so tired, and had stopped herself because whatever or whoever had kept her awake last night was her Achilles heel.
My knowing would make her vulnerable to me … and Serena Russo didn’t do vulnerable.
I should send her Brené Brown’s stuff, I resolved to myself. As a Christmas present—if, that is, she doesn’t kill me first.
“I’m just very, very tired—and as you can see,” she said, conveniently not showing me her computer screen, “we’re fine. I’ll call you should we need you.”
Kat sighed. “I’ve heard enough. Get ready.” And I heard what sounded like a van door opening.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking in the distance.
This was followed by the van door slamming and Kat saying, “Drive. Now.”
A French-Canadian accent responded with a, “Mai oui,” and I heard the screech of tires.
Two seconds later, Serena’s phone started buzzing. Serena picked it up and looked at the screen in horror. “No, no, no, no…” she muttered as one hand typed frantically on her computer keyboard.
She looked at the screen intently as her other hand called up a number. I could hear whatever number ringing, once, twice, then a male voice picked it up. “Yes,” I heard him say in a muffled, distant voice.
“There has been a break-in at my home.”