Revolution

by J. S. Frankel

  “I thought that bringing my friends along would draw you out,” Szabo began in a quiet, knowing tone. He uncrossed his arms and stood totally at ease as if confident no one would dare attack him. “I am assuming that my green friend at your cabin gave you no trouble?”

  “Anastasia took care of him.”

  A glower crossed the shark thing’s face and he spat on the ground. “Fah, he was a weak little worm, anyway. And this one,” he waved his hand in the direction of the fallen centipede, “he was a most formidable opponent, was he not?”

  “Not really,” Harry answered and let the claws on his hands spring out. “He wasn’t anything with my claws stuck in his neck.” The smell of the beast still clung to him, making his stomach roil, but he fought it off in order to listen. “Are any of your other playmates around?”

  A harsh laugh greeted his question. “No, now it is just us two, standing in the moonlight and talking,” Szabo replied in a most conversational manner, his previous bad mood seemingly gone. “I really thought they would put up more of a fight.”

  “They did their best,” Harry replied and tensed for the upcoming brawl.

  Szabo, however, remained relaxed. His posture indicated a certain amount of serenity and Harry figured that he had every reason to feel safe. His minions had already ripped apart three men. If being in control of your surroundings counted for anything, then Szabo could be considered the temporary ruler of this forest. “Are you that anxious to fight?” he asked.

  “I will if I have to,” answered Harry, quelling the fear inside him.

  Szabo uncrossed his arms and flexed them. They had to be around thirty inches long, impossible for anyone to achieve... except where modern science entered the picture. Display of strength over, he relaxed once more. “Do not fear. I shall not kill you. I will also not kill those two friends of yours, the tall girl and boy. They are excellent computer technicians and it would be a waste. I am simply here to explain my vision, and all I request is that you hear me out.”

  Harry retracted his claws. “I’m listening.”

  Actually, he was listening for the sounds a very large bird would make when swooping down to snatch its prey. He was also training his ears on a source other than what passed for regular wildlife, but heard nothing.

  Szabo gave another barking laugh. “You do not trust me? Ha, you are doing exactly what I would do, listening for the sound of wings, yes? Do not worry. My girlfriend, when I broke her out of the morgue back in Hungary, she decided not to join me here. She has other things to do.”

  “So what did you come here for?” Harry was getting a little tired of this cat-and-mouse routine. “I’m not into playing games with a whack-job who has daddy issues.”

  Abruptly, Szabo’s good mood disappeared. His eyes narrowed and a harsh tone entered his voice. “It would not be wise to mention my father. You do not want to cross that line with me, boy.”

  His reply infuriated Harry and he stabbed his hand at the corpses. “Hey, you crossed the line when you murdered three men. Or your minions did. I don’t care which, so cut to the chase, already.”

  The monster’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Harry figured that the father issue was something he could use in the future and filed this moment away. Szabo inhaled deeply and nodded. “All right, I will. I want you and Istvan to come with me. I could use your skills and his, er, presence, in my new world.”

  Oh, here it came, talk of another utopia, Harry thought. “You mean you want to kill the humans and live in their cities, is that it? Are you making an army to overthrow the government? Because if you are, it won’t—”

  Szabo put up his hand, indicating he wanted silence. “No, you are wrong. I do not wish to overthrow society. The rest of the world can go its own way. All I desire is a place where people, my people, can live by themselves. That is all. I have no wish to return to being what I was. I simply want my own little piece of this planet.”

  “You mean... you want it by killing everyone else?”

  “No, I will get it by changing all those who wish to be transformed. There are many people in today’s society who do not fit in.”

  A thoughtful tone entered his voice. “You do not believe me? Think of all the people you knew growing up. How many have become great? How many are on the fringes of society because they do not fit in due to their race or religion or their orientation? I think you know the answer. Study the statistics. You will see that many of them are in their teens and early twenties. They were promised something that society did not deliver. They were promised chances and got none.”

  As he spoke, the thoughtfulness gave way to passion. Harry had to admit that Szabo was half-right. Still, it was no reason to secede from humanity. “That doesn’t mean they’ll want to be changed,” he argued. “I mean, no one is promised anything. They can fight for what they want through the law—”

  “The law,” Szabo interrupted with a sneer on his face. At least, Harry thought it was a sneer. With his shark’s features, he appeared to be constantly sneering, but the tone in his voice was evidence enough. It indicated total disgust. “Whose law are we talking about? The law made by those in power, who want to keep the disenfranchised beneath them? Hah, that is a laugh.”

  Before Harry could get another word out, Szabo continued laying down the facts. “You were lucky, Goldman. You came from a decent family with enough money, status and education. You were born in a country where it is more than possible to rise above your station due to intelligence and hard work. But others are not so fortunate. They are poor or born of a different color or do not care for the opposite sex.”

  As he spoke, something inside Harry’s mind grudgingly accepted this line of reasoning. He had been lucky, yes, but others suffered discrimination due to them being what they were. He remembered one person he’d briefly worked with at the university in Portland. She was of mixed parentage, her father Asian and her mother black, and there were those in the student body who didn’t like what she was. It never mattered to him, but to her it did. She transferred to another university a couple of months after the comments began. He never heard from her again.

  Silence continued while Harry tried to figure out a way to counteract this line of reasoning. Deep down, he knew that Szabo was right about one thing. Society as it stood right then, at least many parts of it, wouldn’t accept him. The following words from the man-shark, delivered with precision and accompanying passion, underscored that feeling.

  “I see that you are thinking things over. Look in the mirror, Goldman. You do not fit. Neither does your girlfriend, this I know. You were never part of the crowd when younger.”

  A smirk formed on his wide mouth, indicating that he knew more than most and wanted to impart that knowledge. “I read your history. I know that you were an outcast because of your mind, because you are smarter than most others are. I also know that your girlfriend was not accepted either, because of her parents and their lifestyle, which they forced upon her. Both of you are not accepted now, just as I am not accepted.”

  “You chose to become this way.”

  A faint shrug accompanied Szabo’s answer. “True, but I must assume that you know something about my...” he hesitated only slightly, “my past. I was not what you would call a social person. I am better off this way.”

  His voice took on a most persuasive air. “I will point out that you, too, chose to become what you are. Join me. Not as an enemy, no, but as an equal. You have talent, the talent to make those who want to be special in their own right fit in. All I ask is your loyalty.”

  Of course, he would ask that. In all the mad dictator movies, all they ever asked was for loyalty. Loyalty, though, was often never enough. Harry didn’t like being thought of as a freak, but at the same time, he knew damn well that if he ever did go rogue, there would be no going back. “You do know that I’m going to say no to all this, don’t you?” he asked.

  Szabo’s expression never changed. “I did not think that you wo
uld accept my offer the first time around. That is why I have not killed you. You are intelligent, and although it would be an easy matter to slay you for insulting my family’s honor, I will not do it.” He snapped his claws, and they made a sharp sound like a gun going off. “Be warned, though. Insult my family line once more and I might change my mind.”

  “You could make your move now—try and get past me,” Harry suggested. Glancing behind him to see if anyone on his side was coming, he saw and heard no one.

  Another smirk formed on the gash that passed for Szabo’s mouth. “Yes, I could, but I imagine that the agents who have survived have more powerful weaponry stored at your cabin. While I am strong, I am not immune to heavy firepower.”

  Good to know that he could be hurt, Harry thought. “So what do you want with Istvan? He doesn’t have any special powers. I checked his blood. He’s going to live a long time, but he would have without being changed over.”

  Szabo received this news without moving a muscle. “We are aware of that.”

  There it came, the piece of the puzzle that Harry had been looking for. “Do you mind telling me who we are?”

  The massive bear-shark shrugged. “There are others like us. We need Istvan for a different purpose. If you join us, I shall tell you about it. Until then, I cannot.”

  He didn’t answer the question about Istvan, but then again, he didn’t have to. Szabo abruptly turned on his heel and started to walk off. “Think about it,” he tossed over his shoulder. “You have two days. If you wish to reply in the affirmative, then leave a written message on this spot. If you do not reply, then I will do what I must do in order to achieve my goal.”

  Harry started to follow him, but the larger man dashed something at the ground, and a cloud of smoke instantly appeared. Coughing, Harry backed out, hands spread wide and feeling the air for a possible attack. The smoke soon disappeared and the forest was empty.

  Back at the cabin, he walked inside and found Anastasia sleeping on the couch. The burn mark on her arm had already begun to heal. At the back door, Farrell was wiping up the bloodstains while the surviving agents hauled the carcass of the frog thing out the door. “We’ll stand watch,” one of them said. Farrell nodded assent.

  After the door closed, he came over to the table where Jason and Maze were busily working on the computers. “What have you got?” Farrell asked.

  Maze was typing furiously, but she continued to shake from the adrenaline overload, as did her boyfriend. “Nothing much,” she said. “I’m still working on it.”

  Farrell turned to Harry. “Did you meet Jaws outside?”

  On any other day, Harry would have laughed at the joke. Today, though, was no ordinary day. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “I’ve got more bad news. Szabo’s into building his own world, away from society.”

  Farrell grunted. “If you want even more bad news, Bartok contacted me while you were outside. That disc you gave him? It was damaged, but he managed to decipher some of the information. It’s a list.”

  “It’s a list of what?”

  Harry should have expected the answer, but it came as a shock all the same. “It’s a list of prisoners, newly released and those still incarcerated. It’s like your who’s who of scum, not just in Hungary, but in Serbia, Russia and a dozen other European countries.”

  “Oh holy crap,” said Harry, now aware of the full scope of Szabo’s plans. “Did you get in touch with... I mean, what are you going to do?”

  Farrell rubbed his forehead. “I’ve already contacted the authorities in those countries. The FBI, working in conjunction with the State Department and Interpol, is keeping an eye on the convicts. Thing is, if they haven’t broken any laws, we can’t really arrest them. They have rights, dumb as that may sound to you.”

  It did sound dumb, but Harry thought about the practicalities of it all. It was a given that not every ex-convict would want to become a mutant. It was also a given that the authorities would be watching them. So maybe the conversion rate could be held to a minimum... maybe. However, he still couldn’t figure out one thing. “Okay, we’ve got ex-prisoners that may want to join Szabo’s cause. We know that he wants to build an army, but I still don’t know what he wants with Istvan, though.”

  He glanced at the couch. The pig-man was sleeping, some crumbs of food dotting his face. It figured. Up for the food, and asleep when the action went down. Maybe it had something to do with the devolution process, or maybe Istvan was just lazy. Whatever, there were bigger issues to worry about. “Szabo gave us two days and he expects an answer.”

  “And then what?”

  Harry shrugged. “He’ll probably attack us again.”

  The group spent the night in the main room downstairs. Farrell called in the surviving agents and the three of them took up positions at the windows. Anastasia woke up and joined Harry on a nearby couch. They kept on the alert, but the only sounds they heard were Istvan’s snores and farts. Anastasia pulled a face when he passed a mighty gust of wind and waved her hand in the air to get rid of the smell. However, there was nothing she could do about it.

  On the other hand, Jason and Maze were appropriately freaked out. “That thing—it’s not going to come back, is it?” asked Jason, his face drawn and anxious. Maze’s eyes grew round, and while it was expected that she’d say something sarcastic, the events of the past few minutes had already begun to hit home.

  “Hang tough,” Anastasia countered in a tight voice, her claws out. “If he comes, we’ll be ready.”

  It sounded good, but Harry remembered the battle and did his best to fight off any possible panic attack. Getting hurt was part of the equation for him, and he accepted that. However, it wasn’t on his to-do list for his friends.

  Fortunately, the rest of the night passed without incident. Once Anastasia’s arm healed up, she checked out the newly grown fur. “No scars,” she remarked with a sense of satisfaction. “Enhanced healing is something I could get used to.”

  At dawn’s first light, Jason and Maze got back on the computers. They were still rattled from the events of the previous few hours, but Farrell spoke to them in a quiet, fatherly tone, reassuring them that they’d be safe. It was the first time he’d ever shown such a kindly air. Maybe he did care, after all. “We’re on it,” Jason said. In a furious burst of speed, he began typing in tandem with his girlfriend.

  While they worked, Harry thought of something. “Have you tried finding out who led the KGB at the time Kulakov was there?” he asked.

  Farrell chuckled, although this wasn’t the time or place for laughter. “I’m way ahead of you, kid,” he said. “That’s what we’ve been working on since we came up here. In fact, we already know, and he’s on his way.”

  Kid—when is he ever going to stop calling me kid, Harry wondered. He was almost nineteen, so it was time for this to stop. A sigh of exasperation burst from him, but Anastasia put her hand to his lips and shook her head. “I got it,” he whispered.

  A few minutes later, a knock at the door sounded. Farrell checked the window, gun at the ready, but a second later, he put his weapon away and opened up. Four men stood in the doorway, three of them FBI agents, wearing the usual black suits and the obligatory dark sunglasses. “We’ve got a car waiting, sir,” one of them said.

  “Jason, Maze, take whatever information you’ve got on your discs and clear out,” Farrell ordered.

  They quickly complied with the order and grabbed their information. Two of the other agents hefted the computer equipment and took it outside. As Maze walked by, she gave Anastasia a quick hug. “Thanks for being here for us. School’s looking safer and safer all the time.”

  Anastasia, in turn, favored her with a friendly nod as Maze walked to the door. “Take care of yourself. We’ve got this.”

  “You’ll be protected,” Farrell said, “And so will your families. You’ve got my word. Get going.”

  Jason nodded at Harry. “Talk to you soon, man. Take care.”

  Then they wer
e gone. One of the agents took the blood sample as well. Harry didn’t bother protesting. He doubted that Szabo was interested in it or even knew about it. In any case, it would be safer at FBI headquarters.

  He stood in the opening and watched the car drive off. It was a beautiful sunny summer morning, the birds were singing, and the smell of pollen wafted through the air. However, the simple wonders of nature had to be ignored. Reality intruded, but this reality meant butting heads with mutants and monsters.

  He swiveled his gaze to the other man. Short and slender with wizened features and heavy spectacles, he had thinning white hair and his eyes looked old and rheumy. He had to be in his mid-eighties, if not more. He wore a ratty brown suit that looked thirty years out of date. When he raised his left hand to wipe the sweat from his face, it trembled, perhaps from palsy.

  “Who are you?” Harry asked, although he had a good idea.

  “My name is Andrei Ulyanov Morozoff,” the man said in a surprisingly strong and vibrant voice. “I am the man you seek.”

  Chapter Eight: On the Hunt

  Morozoff sat at the table, a cup of tea in front of him with a lone sugar cube on the dish. Harry and Anastasia sat opposite him. Farrell sat watchful in his seat off to Harry’s left. No one spoke as Morozoff surveyed the coffee cup, mentioning something about not having a samovar handy. With a dour expression, he picked up the cube and placed it between his teeth. He sipped his tea noisily, which Harry thought odd. The sucking noise was also a major turnoff.

  Anastasia leaned over whispered into his ear that this was a traditional Russian custom practiced over a century before. “You were supposed to hold the sugar cube between your teeth while drinking. I remember that much from my days in Russia.”