From the top of the first hill, I watched the security dudes stop their pursuit with shaking heads and retreat from the woods. They probably all knew I was hyper and that their chances of overhauling me on foot were slim to none. Objective achieved. If this were a typical fugitive movie, I might run to the nearest road and hitchhike my way to freedom and upload the camera's contents at the first restaurant or road stop with WiFi. Of course, in those movies they would probably send helicopters or drones or robot dogs after me...but in any case, this was reality and I wouldn't be deserting my mom or Meredith. All I needed was a safe place to stow Jenny's camera.
I reached a forest service road – maybe the same road where Jenny's car was parked – and spotted a likely hiding place in a tree on the other side. A small knothole that might belong to a bird or squirrel. Should provide decent cover for the camera, I hoped. I listened for an approaching car or truck. Hearing nothing but a squawking blue jay, I hopped across the dirt road and scrambled up the tree. The camera, thankfully, fit neatly out of sight in the hole. Mission accomplished!
I dropped down and spent a few moments memorizing the terrain and searching out a clear marker for a possible return trip. A few yards down the road someone had carved numbers on the side of a stump. I had no idea what they meant, but I memorized them.
When I returned to the Retreat, the expressions of startled disbelief on the first guards I encountered were priceless. I walked through the residential area whistling a Bach toccata and smiling as if on a Sunday stroll. They moved out to meet me with a cautious air, as if not wanting to spook me into running again.
"Where did you go?" one of them demanded.
"Just a nature hike," I said. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
One big dude – weren't they all? – grabbed my collar and swung me around to face his clenched fist.
"I'm gonna smash that smile off your pretty-girl face, hyper-punk!"
Another dude – the guy with the crooked nose - grabbed his cocked arm. "Come on, buddy. We wouldn't want to mess up such a pretty face, would we?"
"Good point."
My captor's fist dipped and traveled a short, rapid loop into my stomach. I doubled over, blasting out air – which probably would've been followed by my breakfast if I'd had any. The crooked nosed guy patted me on my back as I dry-heaved. I buried thoughts of rearing up and planting my fist in his grinning face. Live to fight another day and all.
"Let's get the jacket off him and search the son of a bitch."
They ripped off my jacket and some bearded, ham-handed guy patted me down in a way that would've made a prison guard blush. No nook or cranny went unexplored. Some vise-grip groping of my privates dropped me to my knees.
"He's clean," he said. "Just a cell."
"Let me see it," said Crooked Nose. He looked through my phone files for several seconds. "No photos or video. No calls out since yesterday."
He tossed my cell on my chest. As I stuffed it in a pocked, the crooked nosed dude hauled me to my feet and got in my face. Along with his deformed nose, his huge forehead was peppered with tiny craters. Either he'd had the measles or had been hit with a shotgun blast.
"Where did you ditch the camera, motherfucker?" he snarled.
"What camera?"
The hard slap made stars pop from the quantum froth in front of my eyes and my ears ring. I sagged in his grip.
"You want to play this? You'll be crawling out of here pissing blood."
Probably a bluff. But then again... I braced myself for a universe of pain.
"I don't...don't even own a camera."
"Not your camera, wiseass. Your lady bodybuilder girlfriend. You know, the one with the hot ass who's old enough to be your mother."
"Have you seen his mother?" one of them laughed. Some snickers followed.
"You guys sound jealous," I said.
Whaap! As the world spun I decided to keep my wiseass mouth shut from then on. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain and nauseous vertigo to pass. It took a while.
"Anything else you want to say, shithead?"
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I knew in that moment that no matter what he did I would never tell him where I'd hidden the camera. I was prepared to die to fulfill that pledge. I thought I might be going insane, but there it was.
"Now, I'm gonna ask you again," said the crooked nose bastard. "Where did you ditch the camera?"
I gritted my teeth and braced myself again, making myself meet his eyes. "I never had a goddamned camera."
"Then why the hell did you run?"
"I was afraid that if you caught me you might slap me around and crush my testicles."
I waited for the blow that would scramble my brain again, wondering what happened to my no-wiseass resolution, but there was only silence. Then someone laughed. And another. My tormenter even let out a low chuckle. He relaxed his grip and allowed me to straighten up.
"I'll say one thing for you, kid," he rumbled. "You got balls. Which is kinda surprising after Bennie" – he nodded to the monstrous-handed guy – "had his big paws on 'em."
"Yeah... I was wondering if I might have to sing soprano in the choir. And I don't even sing in the choir."
Some more grudging chuckles followed.
"Heh," said Crooked Nose. "Fuck it." He released me. "Take my advice: go back to your cabin and be a good boy until all this shit gets hashed out."
"Yes, sir." I almost added "Thanks."
I heard him radioing ahead, probably to the two dudes waiting outside our cabin since they didn't show any surprise when I walked up. Inside, my mom startled me by rushing up and wrapping me in a hug. Hugging was definitely not her thing, even under these circumstances. I heard her sniff my neck, which I also thought was odd.
"I was so worried," she said. "I kept imagining them catching you and beating you to a pulp."
"They never caught me. But they did beat on me a little."
"I'm going to sue them within an inch of their life, I promise you." She drew in a long inhalation. "Mmmm. You smell so good. Are you wearing aftershave?"
"No. I haven't even shaved. Or showered, for that matter."
My mom held onto me, showing no sign of releasing her grip. Over her shoulder, Meredith was starting to frown. Our eyes met.
"Uh..." I gently pried her hands off my arms. "We should probably talk..."
Mom backed off with a sigh, gazing up at me with a weird half-smile, her pupils dilated.
"Why don't you sit down, Dr. Stevens," said Meredith. "I'll make some coffee."
My mom dropped down on the edge of the couch, leaning on the balls of her feet as if preparing to spring up without warning. I sat in a leather love seat facing her across ten short feet of carpet. My mom continued to study me with that weird smile that didn't look like it belonged on her face. Yet it was familiar somehow.
"Are you okay, Mom?" I asked.
"I feel great," she said. "Maybe a little restless." She wiped her forehead. "I might be getting a case of cabin fever."
"Oh."
Meredith brought over some coffee. I could've used a cold beer, but didn't dare ask. I had the strangest feeling my mom might say, "Sure, why not?"
"What happened out there?" Meredith asked me. "I couldn't believe it when you took off running like that."
"Yeah, it kind of surprised me, too. I just saw this possibility I could escape them long enough to hide Jenny's camera and went for it, I guess. And I succeeded, believe it or not."
Meredith smiled. "Once I thought about it I could see that happening. You're almost as fast as Ragnar now."
Her smile developed a crimp. I wasn't sure if she was thinking about Ragnar or was noting my mom's odd rocking on the edge of the couch. Mom hadn't taken her eyes off me for an instant, which was pretty disconcerting.
"Where did you hide her camera?" Meredith asked.
"In a tree maybe a mile or two from here."
"But what are we planning to do with it?" my mom asked.
"
I don't know. I just didn't want them to get it."
"You should've just given it to them, Aiden. We're not investigative journalists, and we both have strong ties to CellEvolve. If that slut wants to take on the powers that be, let her do it. And let them chew her into tiny pieces when she tries."
Merry joined me in staring at my mom. Something akin to dread was building in me. It wasn't quite naked fear, but it was heading in that direction. Like a horror movie where something goes bump in an alley and it could be a cat or something harmless but it could also be bloodthirsty demon spawn. Of course this wasn't a horror movie, but there was a nightmarish, Stephen King aspect to it.
It was like pulling neurons from my brain to acknowledge one possibility: my mom could now have what Chrissie Hayashi and most of the other women here had.
"Ah, Aiden," said Meredith, pointing fiercely down the hallway toward our behind my mother's back. "Could I talk to you for a second?"
Meredith stopped pointing when my mom turned around.
"Talk to him about what?"
"Something personal. Just for a second. Be right back."
I got up and moved quickly past my mom, whose eyes had narrowed in dark suspicion and how seemed ready to spring to her feet and chase after us. Thankfully, she didn't, though she swiveled to watch us retreat down the hallway.
Meredith tugged me into her room and spoke in a rushed whisper: "I think she's showing signs of infection. You see it, too, don't you?"
I didn't want to answer. My fear returned with the force of a tsunami. I made a choking sound.
"Stay with me, Aiden. Take some deep breaths."
Merry was right. This was no time to give up the one thing I had going for me. I had to stay calm, rational.
"We don't know for sure," I said.
"No, we – "
The door smacked open. My mom stood before us, florid-faced, her eyes burning with fury.
"What are you doing behind my back?" she snarled. "Get your hands off him!"
Meredith backed away from me, hands raised. "We weren't doing anything, Dr. Stevens."
"I saw you touching him. You have no right to do that! He's mine!"
"He's your son!"
My mom's head rocked as if someone had slapped her – with as much force as the security guard had slapped me. She blinked. Awareness and madness whirled in her dark blue eyes.
"Mom!" I waited for her to meet my gaze. "It looks like you've been infected. It's affecting your rational judgment."
My mom gripped the doorjamb, clenching her jaw, forcing her eyes to the ground.
"Ai...den..." The word clawed its way through her lips. "Put on Andrydox. Now."
I got it. I raced past her to my room and snatched the tall sixteen ounce bottle from the bathroom sink counter. I ripped off my clothes. I heard a thud in the hallway and the grunts of struggle. No time for niceties. I dropped the Andrydox on the bathroom counter and sprang to the door. In the hallway, Meredith had my mom in a headlock from behind, but her open jaws were descending for Merry's forearm.
"Stop!" They both froze – my mom's teeth inches from Meredith's flesh. "This is how she got infected! Exchange of bodily fluids!"
"Yes," Meredith gasped out. My mom stared at me with dazed, lust-filled eyes.
"Has she bitten you?" I asked.
"No. I don't think so."
"Let her go. I'll handle her."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Let her go. Please, before she infects you."
Meredith withdrew her arms from my mom's head. She didn't waste a second springing up and marching toward me.
"Leave!" I said to Meredith.
I didn't wait to see if she'd obey. I motioned my mom inside the bedroom and locked the door behind us. She was panting, her eyes alternating between my groin and face with deadly, monomaniacal intent. She slapped her palms on my chest and shoved me toward the bed.
"I'll go spray myself. The Andrydox is in the bathroom."
"Too late."
She continued to shove me toward the bed, a low growling noise coming from her chest. I could see that one possible if unthinkable solution. To my horror one part of my body was acting as if it was completely thinkable.
"We can't do this, Mom," I said.
"It wouldn't be the first time."
"What?"
The implications of that were like a series of Crooked Nose punches to my solar plexus. The strength fled from my legs just as I hit the edge of the bed. Momentum carried me onto my back. My mom stared down at me with a pleased, deranged smile.
"Your rational mind," I said. "You're the most rational person I know. Use it."
She blinked. The war of worlds – reason versus insanity - swirled in her eyes again.
"Aiden." Her voice was a scratchy whisper. "Knock me..." I watched her lips twitching and prayed it wouldn't be "up." "Out. Do it."
I couldn't imagine punching out my mom. But then I couldn't imagine the alternative. She started tearing open her blouse. The buttons popped off in a machine-gun burst. I sprang off the bed, ducking under her grasping hands, and fled to the bathroom. The bottle of Andrydox was in my sweaty palms.
My mom was barely a heartbeat behind me. Her quickness suggested whatever factors that had converted her into a hormonal puppet had also enhanced her physically. She had shed her jeans and was coiling her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, ensnaring me. It was do or die.
I sprayed her in the face with the Andrydox. She released me with a shriek and clawed at her eyes. I slid away, wasting no time in dousing myself head to foot and leaping into my clothes while my mom opened up the sink faucets and plunged her face into the water. I told myself she'd be okay. Andrydox wasn't especially toxic; it had been designed to apply to skin, after all.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I said. She gurgled something I couldn't make out in reply.
I returned to the bedroom, staring out the window, thinking of nothing better than to just wait. A couple of Ellsworth security men walked past with grim expressions. I had a feeling they hadn't signed up for this kind of operation. I heard the water turn off in the bathroom. I turned with dread to face my mom. She was toweling off her face and eyes appearing rational and composed. I allowed myself a little hope.
"I'm sorry, Aiden," she said.
"I'm sorry I sprayed you. How are your eyes?"
"They'll survive. That was a smart thing to do. It stopped me cold." She draped the towel around her neck and regarded me with sad, bleary red eyes.
"How do you feel? I mean, your thoughts, are they...?"
"Altered?" She gave me a bleak smile. "They seem basically rational at the moment. I'm not experiencing any overwhelming urges. My guess is the psychosis is triggered by strong male pheromones. That seems borne out by Chrissie Hayashi and the behavior of the women at the orgy. And my lessening of those urges when you sprayed yourself."
"Lessening?"
Her smile grew bleaker. "I'll say this. I used to think it was incredibly frustrating at times being a woman surrounded by men who usually didn't share my desires. But I didn't know the meaning of the word 'desire' until now. Now I think I just might understand what it's like to be you."
"You're feeling hyper-like desire?"
"Yes. I think so."
"But I can control it," I said. "I mean, I wouldn't, like, assault anyone..."
I saw the hurt in her eyes and stopped. After a few moments, she clenched her jaw and nodded.
"I know. But this..." She shook her head. "I tried fighting it, but it was overwhelming. Like a tide that blotted out almost all my reason. I was reduced to a spectator in my own body, watching myself do things..." She shuddered.
I longed to reach out and comfort her, but that didn't strike me as a good idea.
"Let me borrow some of your Melatin," she said. "I'll start with a half-dose. I'd like to keep my mind at least semi-clear. If my great invention is worth anything, maybe it will control this."
"Seems like a good pos
sibility."
I retrieved my bottle of Melatin from the bathroom and handed it to her. "Just keep the whole thing for now. And uh" – my eyes strayed involuntarily from her torn blouse to her snug-fitting pink panties – "maybe you should get dressed?"
"Of course. Just need to get to my luggage."
I opened the bedroom door ahead of her. Meredith was standing there with a rolling pin.
"Are you okay?" She looked past me to my mom.
"I think so," I said. "For now. I sprayed myself with Andrydox and she's going to try some Melatin to suppress her...impulses."
"I'm sorry to put you through that, Meredith," said my mom.
Merry's face lost some of its tension. She nodded. "I know that wasn't the real you, Alyssa."
"Thank you. You're quite right about that."
We squeezed past and my mom entered Meredith's room. Her getting dressed couldn't happen fast enough as far as I was concerned.
Meredith paused in front of me, searching out my eyes. I had an idea what she might be searching for.
"You're really okay?" she asked in a lowered voice.
"It's not me I'm worried about." I looked over her arms and exposed skin, feeling a tentative relief at seeing no blood or scrapes. "She didn't bite you anywhere, did she?"
"Nope. But she was looking to." She glanced at the closed bedroom door. "Does she seem okay to you now?"
"Sort of. She thinks that strong pheromones might trigger the psychotic behavior. Right now she says she still feels a stronger than normal desire – she guesses what it might feel like to be hyper."
"If that's true, it might be controllable. And it makes sense. It's not as if Chrissie and the others were sex-crazy all the time. Certain things seemed to trigger that."
My mom emerged from Meredith's room in slacks and a sweater and her hair neatly combed. Except for the reddened eyes she looked like her normal self.
"How are you doing now?" I asked.
"Fine. And I'd appreciate it if you stopped asking me that. I think you'll know when I'm not fine."
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