by Ramy Vance
“Understood,” the male voice said.
“Hurry. Collin is home,” she said, standing. “I’ll meet you there.”
Who was Collin? Serena spoke with the panic of a mother trying to reach her toddler before he ran into the road. Did she have a young child? It was hard to imagine her being a mother, but stranger things had happened.
Who knew? Maybe she was a completely different person at home.
Serena did a sweep of everything on her desk, including the pass that I would need to get into the lower levels, and headed for the door.
Merda, merda, merda! I needed that damn pass. Think Isa, think!
Then I saw it—her purse. She hadn’t grabbed her purse.
“Serena,” I said, scooping it up and following her to the door.
She stopped, and we bumped into each other. Hard.
“Here,” I said.
“Thank you,” Serena managed as she jogged out of her office, not noticing that when we collided, I had managed to get her pass out of her pocket.
GOOD, EVIL AND THE UPPITY FRENCH CANADIANS WHO STAND IN BETWEEN
I could hear the van driving as Kat’s voice popped into my ear. “Did you get it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, taking a seat behind Serena’s terminal.
“OK, let’s see what kind of bad you’re up to, Serena.”
“The password?”
She spelled it out for me: “C-0-L-L-1-N-!-2-3-!”
A very specific password.
“You know,” I said as I tapped it in, “she’s just trying to do what’s right for her kind.”
“Humans … and they’re my kind, too. What she’s doing isn’t right.”
“I agree. But she’s afraid. Humans are afraid. What would you have them do?”
Kat’s answer was immediate. “Talk. Open lines of dialogue. Develop platforms so we can understand one another.”
“Bold words for someone who wears a mask and fights evil,” I said. “Not exactly the talking type, are you?”
Evidently my words did something to her, because she went so silent that even her thoughts were quiet.
I had silenced the great Katrina Darling.
That’s a feat I’ll remember on my death bed, I mused.
“Now we’re going to need to bypass her fingerprint. You know a way,” Kat said, speaking to our tattooed accomplice.
“I got this,” I said.
“Oui. Tape on a glass, or have her touch clay or—”
“Kat, I got this,” I repeated.
“How?” Kat asked.
“Like this …” I put my hand in front of the tiny camera so Kat could watch it transform into Serena’s hand.
Not that she knew it was Serena … All Kat could see was that my hand had aged to look more like that of a middle-aged woman than the young adult hand I had chosen to have.
“People will see you through the office window,” she said.
“What? A hand?”
“You can transform just your hand,” Kat said, “and it will have her fingerprint?”
“The encantado’s transformation is so complete, we even take on the person’s blood type.”
Kat let out an awe-filled groan. “Really? No wonder the humans are so afraid of us. You’re like the perfect spy.”
“Not really,” I said. “It costs me months of life to take on a new form. But once I take on that form, I can transform into it almost at will, only burning seconds of my life.”
“So you spent months to be me?” she said. “I’m so very, very flattered.”
Sarcasm? Hard to tell with humans.
I decided to take her at her word. “As well you should be,” I said as we called up Serena’s files. Back when I’d broken into her office on campus, she had been a total luddite. She used manila folders and wrote everything by hand.
Now, that had all changed. All her data was hidden behind passwords, fingerprints and trees of folders. The World Army wasn’t taking any chances.
At first there was nothing unusual on her computer. Just the typical stuff you’d expect from an administrator: employee profiles, time sheets, pay slips, evaluations.
Then there were her own experiments. Again, nothing unusual. I even found some information on Justin that confirmed what she said earlier to me: his condition was improving.
The anti-venom was working.
“It seems they are working on a cure.” I looked up nervously from her computer. The way it was situated, no one could see me from the hall. But if they came up to the window and looked in … then I was done for.
My only hope was that everyone had seen her run out the door.
That, or her bad mood got around and everyone was staying clear.
Don’t worry about getting caught, Isa, I berated myself. Just get this done.
I started copying the files, but there was nothing of any real importance here.
Kat knew it, too. “Shit, she must be keeping the good stuff somewhere else.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I doubt she’d keep the files about her experiments on here. That info must be deeper in the lab.”
Mergen smacked his lips. There was truth in my statement.
What we were looking for—her files, where the World Army actually was in regard to their experiments—was deeper inside the building.
Which mean I needed to go deeper inside to find it.
But once I walked through the restricted area I would be trapped. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
My only hope would be to get in and out without being detected.
I was an encantado; I was created to do such a thing. I took a deep breath and, ducking low into the office so no one outside could see me, I turned into Serena.
“OK,” I growled. “Change of plans.”
↔
THERE WAS no more playing around. It was time to act. I transformed into Serena completely and, grabbing her pass, went to the metal door. My heart raced as I ran her pass through the scanner and the system prompted me for both fingerprints and retina scans.
I got in without issue, and inside there was a long hallway that ended in a large room with several computers. This place looked like the command center to NASA, with row after row of computers and several monitors arching on the other end.
As soon as I was inside, I took a seat at the closest terminal I could find. Several technicians in the room looked up at me.
Well, at Serena.
I could tell by their gazes that this wasn’t where Serena usually sat. I could also tell that they weren’t going to question her. Serena wasn’t one to be questioned and, as far as they were concerned, she could sit at any terminal she damn well pleased.
Good. This meant I could run through their system.
I tapped in her password again, and after another fingerprint and retina verification, I was in.
This system was completely different … a lot more old-school, with Matrix-esque greens displaying everything. I wasn’t sure why; we weren’t running on an old machine. My only thought was that in the human world, some things didn’t get upgraded for nostalgic reasons.
Kat must have been wondering the same thing, because I heard her chime in, “I bet its that font and color because the old brass got used to it and doesn’t want to change it.”
See, nostalgia.
Tapping on the screen, I started to look around the program. At first, I couldn’t really find anything. Until, that was, I saw a folder labeled Project Chimera.
Chimeras were hybrid lions, bats and scorpions. They also had chameleon powers and a whole host of other powers that shouldn’t run together.
They were the platypuses of the mythical world.
I clicked open the folder and saw several research findings that made my skin go cold.
I heard Kat’s voice. “I’m no scientist, but are you telling me that they’ve already successfully spliced human and Other DNA?”
I shook my head. Covering my mouth, I mumbled, “Not ex
actly. Look here at this number.”
“7:74 … what about it?”
“That’s the success variance. Basically, they tried to splice in Other DNA with seventy-four human test subjects. Only seven were successful.”
Kat groaned. “And what happened to the other sixty-seven?”
I scrolled down until I found the word that answered Kat’s question: Terminated.
“Shit.”
“No kidding,” I said. “And look here. Seems they had a second variance done, this time using the scorpion-man’s poison. Serena wasn’t lying. That venom made the test subjects more receptive to the splicing. But …”—I traced my finger along the graph that went with the finding—“only for a time. Most test subjects rejected the new DNA after sixty-six days.”
“Sixty-six,” Kat muttered. “I watched Justin fight those birds last week. Did he display any powers before then?”
I thought back to when we got together. “Yes, last semester. On our first date.”
Kat ignored my first date comment and said, “So we must be close to day sixty-four. He has a few more days, and then what?”
“Terminated,” I muttered.
“OK, we need to up the timeline if we’re going to save him. We need to—”
But before Kat could finish, I heard an ‘ahem.’ Looking up, I saw two frightened technicians staring down at me.
Clearly they had something to say to me.
Well, not me … Serena.
EVIL IS AS EVIL DOES
I had seen the two technicians staring at me when I entered. I had watched them take deep breaths, and assumed they were so frightened of Serena that they would leave me alone.
But I didn’t have the luck of the devil on my side. Seems the two technicians were only sighing because they had some news to deliver to Serena.
News they knew she wouldn’t like.
“Good, you’re in,” said the fat, balding man with a thick red beard. He said that like he was trying to start up casual conversation. But he was so nervous, it came off high-pitched and squeaky.
The taller technician handed me a clipboard with a bunch of stats that, without context, might as well have been in Chinese (one of the few languages I don’t speak).
“As you can see, the results look promising,” said the taller of the two. Unlike his shorter, fatter, balder coworker, this technician was tall, thin and had a full head of graying hair.
They looked at me expectantly and, realizing that they thought I was Serena—who understood these numbers—I looked at the clipboard and pursed my lips, giving a slight nod.
Dr. Russo was someone who gave praise sparingly, and I hoped my tempered response wouldn’t raise any red flags.
“But we have a problem,” the shorter one said. “With the aqrabuamelu.”
“The aqrabuamelu. Show me.”
The two technicians nodded and started toward the far end of the room, where several metal doors stood with tiny portal windows no larger than a paperback. As we walked past the doors, I caught a glimpse of who was inside.
Justin.
It took every ounce of my willpower and restraint not to run into that room. I wanted to get to his side and hold his hand. Reassure him. Let him know that I was there for him.
The desire to go to him was overwhelming, and I might have succumbed had it not been for two things:
One was Kat. “Don’t,” was all she said, and it was enough. That single word carried the full weight of what was going on here. Don’t go inside. Don’t do anything stupid.
Don’t mess up our chance to really save him.
I understood that I stood no chance at rescuing him. Sure, I might be able to escape myself or free him of his restraints. But he was gone. Asleep.
The other thing that helped me resist the urge to go to his side was his smile. He was obviously under a heavy sedative.
But despite that, he looked like he was dreaming about something wonderful.
And I hoped his dream was of me.
I clenched my teeth and asked in as neutral a voice as possible, “How is he?”
The taller one shook his head. “It is a miracle he’s still here. It just means the other splicing took root. But he’s slipping. I give him three days. Maybe four.”
The shorter one nodded in agreement.
“What about a cure?”
They looked at me confused and gestured for me to follow. “That was what we wanted to speak about,” the shorter one said in a whisper. “There’s a problem with the … ahh … source.”
As we walked farther into the theater, I caught a glimpse through the third window.
There stood the largest centaur I’d ever seen—even bigger than the one at the night club. But unlike Justin, he was awake and struggling against his restraints. There was murderous rage in him, like he’d kill anyone and everyone for the simple pleasure of it.
And he thrashed with the rage of a creature drowning in air.
“What’s going on with him?” I asked.
The taller one gave me a confused look. “It seems that Others do not respond …”—he paused as he considered his next word—“positively to the venom, not like humans.”
I pointed at the other door where Justin slept. “You call that positively?”
The taller one nervously adjusted his glasses. “What I mean to say is that the human test subjects are lasting longer and longer before the adverse effects of the venom appear. This is in stark contrast with Other test subjects, who immediately become violent.”
“True,” I said, nodding.
The two technicians immediately calmed down at my words, and I was starting to realize just how fierce Serena was. These two guys didn’t fear her in the way you did when you thought your job was on the line.
They acted like their lives were on the line.
And they were probably right.
They took me into through the third door, where an aqrabuamelu sat strapped to a chair.
Aqrabuamelu are scorpion-man hybrids. Incredibly strong, fast and poisonous. It is said that a fully grown aqrabuamelu has a dozen or more poisons coursing through his body, each holding a different effect. With one simple strike of his tail, he could make you sleep, paralyze you, make you giddy, or outright kill you.
Several tubes stuck out of the aqrabuamelu’s tail, with tubes running through them. I’d seen this kind of apparatus before. They were draining him, and I could only assume that each tube drew out a different type of poison from his tail.
That said, all the tubes were dry except one, and the aqrabuamelu looked more like a husked-out giant insectoid than anything living.
His dry body reminded me of when I was a child and would find dead insects. They always looked alive to me, until I realized that they were long dead, their hard exoskeleton still intact, their mushy innards long dry.
“He’s dead,” I muttered, more to myself than the other two.
The taller one nodded. “Died in the night.”
“What?” I said. “But that tube is still draining poison out of him.”
“We’re … ahh … stimulating him. Keeping his poison sacks … ahh … alive.”
“Like on a machine. Guess he didn’t sign his ‘Do not resuscitate’ form,” the taller one laughed.
His laugh immediately stopped when I didn’t join in.
“Anyway, we can still pull out the nerve agent, but the glands we’re using to make the anti-venom … ahhh, I’m afraid we can make any more.”
“Any more?” I growled.
The taller one shuffled nervously. “Yes, but we did make a vial before he died. Enough to fully cure one test subject.” He went over to a cryo-unit and pulled out a green vial.
“So do it. Fix Justin,” I said, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.
The look of confusion on their faces revealed my mistake.
“Yes,” I said, forcing authority into my voice. “We need to know we can reverse this.”
“Rev
erse?” the shorter one asked, narrowing his eyes. “We’ve proven this with the other cadets. Only a handful of cadets remain affected. Cadet 0088 being the last of the bunch.” He gestured toward Justin. Cadet 0088.
Merda, he was getting suspicious. “So? Reverse him, too,” I said, my voice firm. “One vial, one cadet. Seems perfect, don’t you think?” I tried to lace my voice with the sarcasm I’d often seen humans use on one another.
They didn’t move.
“Ahh, I see,” he said. “Well, we’re trying to dilute the aqrabuamelu’s venom with neuro-inhibitors … We figure that a slow induction into the system should allow the test subjects to adjust better. As per your orders.”
So that was what Serena was doing. Trying to use Justin as a final test subject … and not cure him.
Never cure him. That lying bitch.
“And is it working?” I demanded.
They collectively sighed, with the shorter one saying, “No.”
“So there’s your answer. Failed experiment. Time to move on. Let’s fix him now before—”
“But there’s only one vial,” the taller one said, interrupting me. Not good. He’d never feel comfortable interrupting Serena Russo. He was onto me.
But from the look in his eyes, I could tell he still wasn’t sure. And why would he be? The encantado illusion is so complete.
I held his gaze, and the shorter one, still fully believing I was Serena, stammered, “Ahh, yes, but … but …”
“But what?”
He adjusted his glasses. “But the problem … We used the last of the venom to make this and—”
“Can you synthesize more from this?” I asked.
“Yes,” the short man agreed. “But it would take time, and that’s all you ordered us to make.”
“Make more,” I cried out. “And then save that cadet.” I pointed at Justin’s room.
“But, we need to use this vial for ... for …” he stammered, not finishing his sentence. Then he looked behind him. “And we’ll need another aqrabuamelu to make more and—”
By this point the taller one had moved to the phone, lifting it off the cradle.
Kat chimed in through my ear. “Isa, you need to get out of there. He’s on to you.”