by Alan Janney
“Genetic material.” Bob the FBI biochemist enjoys dropping this particular bit of information. He always does it with the same dramatic flair.
“Holy…”
“What? What’s that mean? I’m just Navy, someone explain.”
I grin. “It means the powder alters their genome, Navy.”
“Genome? Somebody use some damn English.”
Bob says, “DNA. The powder is snorted and it temporarily changes the person’s DNA.”
“That’s possible?”
“Not until recently.”
PuckDaddy mumbles, “I’m not sure I knew that.”
“Why? What’s the point? If it’s just a temporary behavior modifier, wouldn’t other drugs do the trick?”
Bob continues, “There’s more. We think we’ve located Chemist DNA inside the material.”
“He put his own genes inside the stuff?”
I ask a clarification question for the benefit of the group, “So, say Jimbo snorts the powder. Some of Jimbo’s DNA gets replaced with Chemist DNA?”
“Potentially. Temporarily. The delivery system is very crude. Because it’s being mass produced. Well. Crude is a relative term. It’s a massive leap forward in the biogenetic world, actually.”
“What happens to users with their DNA replaced?”
“Still working on that. We think heightened aggression and faster mental processes. They become…more like him. Temporarily.”
I move into the projector’s cone of light. “We’re out of time. I don’t want our teams suspicious. Here’s the point. The Chemist terror group has spies within our ranks and he’s tearing our country in half while building these Hyper Humans. We have allies. Like PuckDaddy. We have enemies with powerful tools. And we have each other.”
“Until Blue-Eyes has us arrested.”
I press on. “I’m worried our military’s infighting will get worse. Maybe a lot worse. But this group won’t get distracted. Eyes on the prize.”
“What’s our next course of action?”
“Eliminate the Chemist. Or to be more specific, help the Outlaw kill him.”
Outcasts
All good things….
…are wild and free
…must come to an end
We are united
We’re undivided
We stand together never less
In any weather, a king’s a king forever
We are Los Angeles
- The Goon Squad
Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends - John 15:13
Chapter One
Saturday, December 31. 2018
“Everything is changing,” I said. “And it sucks.”
Cory grunted noncommittally. His mouth was full of brownie.
Lee raised his cup and said, “Cheers to change, bro! I’m a renaissance man. Adapt or die, baby. That’s what I say.”
The three of us stood on Lee’s front porch, looking at faint stars. Inside his luxurious home, a party raged. He'd invited most of our senior class, and over a hundred kids were inside having a good time. Or pretending.
I wasn’t good at pretending.
Besides, it was a sad affair. In addition to being a New Year’s Eve bash, it was also a goodbye party. Approximately ten percent of our school’s student body had already left for greener pastures. Glendale was simply too close to Downtown. Los Angles could no longer be called the City of Angels. It was an insane asylum, a jungle, a haunted house.
Technically, most of the seniors graduated two weeks ago. The fall semester ended in mid-December, finals scores posted, and now we had enough credits to warrant our diplomas. Greater Los Angeles guidance counselors were processing graduation applications as rapidly as possible. With this final hurdle cleared, another twenty-five percent of the students would move next week. Maybe more than twenty-five. Rumors were, all Glendale schools could close soon, or at least make attendance optional until this part of southern California became safer. Cory’s family was already packed.
My eyes stung.
Everything would’ve changed anyway. We were legally adults now. But. Something about this felt too abrupt, too scary, too permanent.
A familiar voice came howling out of Lee’s open front doors, rising above the revelers. I intensely disliked that voice.
I said, “Can’t believe you invited Andy Babington.”
“Whatever dude,” Lee shot back. “He’s legit. His bowl game was televised on ESPN, and he threw two touchdowns. His baller status lends this party credibility.”
“I was pretty good at football too,” I grumbled, scuffing stone steps with my shoe. Cory thumped me on the shoulder, and gave me a nod of encouragement.
Lee continued, “Besides. S’not like I could invite the Outlaw, you know, Chase?”
“That guy is over-rated,” I grinned.
“Noooooooo he’s not, you shut up, dude. Never know. Maybe the Outlaw got my invitation.”
“Nope.”
“Maybe he did, bro.”
“Nope.”
“It’d be so cool if he showed up!”
“He won’t. He’s a punk,” I said.
“Maybe. Any minute.”
“No chance.”
“ComeondudetheOutlawrules!!”
“I told you. He’s lame. Never goes to parties.”
Cory ruffled my hair and indicated the sidewalk. “Shorty fly, man. Yo’ girl make it hard for a brother to stay pure.”
Shorty. My girl.
Katie Lopez. Was here.
And my heart began to beat again.
The school where her mother taught had been temporarily commandeered by the government and transformed into a shelter. Katie was working there over Christmas break as an in-take receptionist for the displaced. She came straight from the shelter to Lee’s party, wearing a tight skirt, tank-top, and carrying her flip-flops. Her brown hair was up, and I loved her so much.
“Hi boyfriend,” she beamed.
“Katie, you’re so freaking hot, dude!” Lee burst. He couldn’t help himself. I knew the feeling. “I love your Instagram videos. So fly. And then, when you and Chase started hooking up, you realized you are hot and it made you even hotter, yo!”
“Thank you, Lee. I’m here to dance! Who’s coming with me?”
She took Cory and Lee by their arms and pulled them after her. I followed my friends inside, down into the spacious main level, now a multi-colored and flashing dance floor where Katie posed for pictures with classmates.
Katie and I hadn’t seen each other much recently. She worked non-stop at the shelter, and I helped Dad and the local law enforcement deliver emergency supplies. They gave me an official yellow vest and everything.
I tried to see Katie at night, but my other occupation kept me busy after dark. She understood. Cause she’s the best. Two days ago she received her acceptance letter to Stanford University, her first choice. She’d probably get part of her tuition paid for, too. I wish she’d chosen a college away from all big cities and all maniacs.
Maniacs like the Infected.
Maniacs like me.
“There he is!” Andy roared.
Andy Babington is Glendale royalty, a high-profile athlete since elementary school. He just finished a very successful season playing college football at Fresno State. He and I had been teammates and enemies during his senior year at Hidden Spring, and we still not-so-secretly hated each other.
He draped an arm around my shoulder and breathed foul beer into my face. “There’s the champ!”
“I watched your bowl game, Babington. You played well.”
“Yeah,” he laughed. So did a few of his buddies. “Yeah. I did. But you. You! You had a good year too.” He pointed with a finger that pressed into my cheek. “You’re not bad after all!”
“Uh huh.”
“I think my brother is better than you. Unnerstand? But your season was good too.”
“Uh huh.”
Across the room,
Katie caught my eye and grinned. I winked, and then lost her in the pulsating crowd.
He belched and said, “But I heard. I heard. I heard you’re not playing in college.”
I shrugged.
He said, “Good idea, sport. You’d get killed. I mean, totally killed.”
“Yikes.”
“You have the arm strength. Remember that? You’re a nobody but wow! You can throw! Almoss’ far as me! But you need to be a leader in college. Like, you know. You get it. A real leader. But you’re jus’ a kid. Unnerstand? Jus’ a squirt. A nobody.” I disentangled from his arm and pushed into the crowd. He shouted at my back, but I ignored him. “A nobody!”
As always, Katie danced in the middle of the crowd and she became its heart. She moved to the drums, strong, slender legs pumping, hips twisting, smile infectious, capturing the partiers inside her radiating joy, and I marveled again that this goddess had chosen me.
I am the Outlaw, trouble-maker extraordinaire, a globally recognized firebrand, beloved or vilified depending on the day, Time Magazine’s Person of the Year, Los Angeles’s masked avenger, and definitely undeserving of Katie Lopez.
After a few minutes, I joined the dance.
“About time, handsome!” she called above the throbbing music.
“Just enjoying the view.”
“Close your eyes!” she laughed, our fingers lacing. “Listen to the beat and dance stupid, like no one can see you!”
So we did, with Cory and Lee, four friends colliding and laughing with closed eyes. For sixty minutes pretending like the world wasn’t caving in. Like a madman didn’t have full control of downtown Los Angeles. Like we were normal and happy.
During the final slow song, Katie grabbed handfuls of my shirt and tugged me close. Her mouth was hot in my ear. “You’re wearing the cologne I bought you. I wish this dance would never end, mi novio.”
“Except for all these people staring, my love.”
“You’re right. I want you. And I can’t have you with these spectators watching.”
“Maybe Lee can electrocute them all.”
She snickered into my shirt and began nipping at my neck, small playful bites. “Grow for me, Outlaw. I like it when you swell. Get taller so your shirt rips.”
“No,” I laughed and gently pushed her mouth away. “Clothes are expensive. Plus, it’s not time. People can’t see me do that. Not yet.”
Her resplendent face clouded a shade. “Soon?”
I nodded. Soon. Soon the world would discover Chase Jackson’s dark side.
She sighed, “All will change then.”
“It already has.”
“You’re still mine. Mine alone. But soon I’ll be forced to share Chase Jackson with seven billion others.”
“I’ll always be yours alone.”
“Let’s never tell the world.”
“The world is going to figure it out. Sooner or later. Regardless of what we do.”
“Later, then. I covet my time with the world’s savior.”
At that instant, our hushed conversation was interrupted by screaming. Not the usual party screams; these were horrified cries. The crowd, over a hundred bodies, surged backwards like a tide. Katie and I fought against it, pushing towards the noise.
I smelled the nightmare before I saw it; the sharp bite of gasoline.
Hannah Walker.
The cheerleader was here, dressed in tight white linen pants and a white linen tunic. She wore no shoes. Her hair was a shock of short blond pixie spikes. Her limbs were rangy and strong, and she held Andy Babington by the throat.
Uh oh.
My fellow students freaked. The dead’s come back to life! They stampeded into far corners, eyes wide, trampling each other.
Hannah, a beautiful and popular cheerleader during her time at Hidden Spring High, was dead. At least that’s what the world assumed. I wept at her funeral, same as everybody else.
Unbeknownst to us, she’d been essentially murdered and remade by a mad physician. Not dead. During the previous couple months she made a handful of public appearances but no one realized it was the deceased Hannah Walker.
Her secret was certainly out now, however.
She was insane. She was Infected and impossibly strong. She could set herself on fire and endure the flames. And she was here for me.
Her eyes calmly inspected the multi-hued chaos. Andy struggled in vain, his tiptoes scrapping against the hardwood. Her grip was iron. He had ten or fifteen seconds left before losing consciousness.
Katie stopped me with hands on my chest.
“Let me go to her!” she shouted above the screams. “You stay!”
“What?!”
“You go outside and wait! Only come back if I need you!”
“No way.”
She asked, “Where is Samantha??”
“Off somewhere with Puck!”
“This could be bad! She’s here for Chase Jackson. If Chase isn’t here, she might leave!”
“I can get her outside.”
“And maybe hurt a hundred people! Let me try first! Please! I don’t want the world to see what you can do. Not yet.”
I hesitated.
She shouted, “Plus! We don’t want Hannah to know…who you are. I’ll stop her. Now go!”
I didn’t go. But I did hide behind a corner, so I could watch. My stomach knotted and my hands shook. Her reasoning was sound, but I would take Hannah’s head off if she threatened Katie.
She fought her way past terrified classmates. “Hannah!” she cried. “Hannah Walker!”
Hannah turned her cold eyes on Katie, and I nearly fainted. I squeezed the corner so hard the wall broke beneath my fingers.
Katie touched her. She took Hannah’s face into her hands. “Hannah Walker. Do you remember me? I’m here. Katie. Katie Lopez.” Katie was emotional. I didn’t blame her. Tears spilled out of her eyes. “Hannah, sweetie? Can you hear me?”
Hannah spoke. “Katie Lopez.” Her voice was a harsh rasp, painful syllables.
“Yes! Hannah, I thought you were dead. Do you remember me?”
“Katie. Lopez. I remember.”
I whispered, “No. Hannah no. Please don’t remember everything.” Not everything!
Hannah’s eyes whipped up and she scanned the room. Did she hear me?
“Hannah, sweetheart, can you let Andy go? You’re hurting him.” Katie had one hand on Hannah’s face and the other on her arm. Hannah’s face was a melted and rebuilt version of her former self. Still beautiful, but now waxen and stretched. “Hannah? Let go?”
“I remember him,” she angrily indicated Andy. Andy was turning blue.
“Hannah, hold my hand. Please release his neck. Let him go and hold my hand. Hannah. Hannah now.”
All our classmates huddled against walls, creating a circle around the two girls and Andy. No one breathed, including me. Pop music still throbbed.
Hannah threw the college quarterback with a flick of her wrist. He landed in the crowd, bowling over several seniors. She watched emotionlessly. Then she cradled Katie’s cheek with her hand. I wanted to scream.
“Katie,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Katie’s voice wavered. Her Latina accent was stronger because of the stress. “Your friend Katie. Do you remember? We were friends?”
“Where is Chase?”
“We were friends,” Katie repeated desperately. Hannah appeared to be teetering on the edge of sanity, the edge of detachment and anger. “Do you remember being friends with me?”
“You are here.”
“I am here, Hannah.”
“The beautiful Latina girl.”
“You’re so sweet, Hannah. We were friends. Are friends.”
“Chase’s…friend. I was always jealous. And angry.”
“We used to give each other advice about boys! Do you remember?”
“You were there, Katie. My last night. You were there.”
By now a dozen kids had called the police. We had a very limited
amount of time. I should probably text my father, the senior police officer on the Hyper Humanity Apprehension Team, but I didn’t want him here. Hannah would kill him. Easily.
I wonder how many kids were recording this on their phones.
“I was there, Hannah. You were so brave. We went together.”
Hannah said, “You were there. The fire. Where is Chase?”
“I’m glad you’re here. Can we go for a walk?”
“Katie.” She quit looking at the room and she locked her eyes on my girlfriend. Her voice was a scrape of steel. “Where. Is. Chase.”
“Chase is not here.”
“I smell him.”
“Chase left, sweetie. He was here earlier.”
“I get lost,” Hannah said, and her voice broke. She dropped to a crouch, unable to support herself. Her face crumpled, and she spoke in strange sobs. Katie knelt and held her. “I can’t find my house. I can’t find him. I don’t remember. So tired. So much fire.”
“Don’t be sad, sweetie. Sweet Hannah Walker. I can help.”
“I followed. Him. Here. His scent.”
“Hannah, can you let go of my hand? Please?”
“His house is close. But I don’t…”
“My hand? You’re hurting me.”
“He promised.”
“Hannah.” Her voice was urgent with pain. “Let go. Now.”
She released Katie’s hand. I retreated back behind the corner, my heart a jackhammer.
Hannah whispered, “Don’t leave. Please.”
“I’m not, sweetie.” Katie started waving the kids out of the room, using her injured hand. Carefully and quietly the high school students filed onto the back deck or up the stairs to the front door. “Where have you been living?”
“Where ever I want. I sleep a lot. I can smell Chase’s cologne.”
“Do you remember when we used to eat lunch together?”
“Yes,” she laughed, a short rough snicker. “I remember. Before the fire.”
“Let’s go for a walk, Hannah. Out of this house. Maybe we’ll see Chase.”