“Why do you have that here? You told us when we spoke weeks ago that you had no idea of these hybrids. You lied to us?” Doc H questions, and his voice is a combination of disbelief and outrage.
“Lied? No. We didn't have any idea that this was even possible. Not until you told us about the rapid macroevolutionary change that occurred with your test subjects that we got the idea to carry out our own set of experiments. So before we destroyed the hive, we brought pods back to study. Like you did, Jules. The opportunity was too perfect to overlook. We had to see for ourselves. We took your research and improvised on it. While it took your test subjects weeks to mutate and change, ours only took days. We aren't sure why. Maybe the pods were at a more advanced stage of their evolution?”
Wait. What? Did she just say subjects? As in plural? I glance over my shoulder nervously, expecting another damned creature to sidle out of the dark corner.
“Subjects?” Luke asks. His tone is as hard as the look he gives Kasina. “There's only one in there. Where are the others?”
“Other. We only tested two. The second didn't survive. Its transformation was more accelerated than this one. I don't believe its human host was able to sustain the rapid modifications its body was undergoing.”
“So your testing killed it?” Now that's interesting. Kasina merely shrugs at my question. Either she isn't sure or doesn't want to answer me.
“You damn well know what happened to us at St. Joseph’s by meddling with these creatures. Are you insane?” Doc H's face flushes with anger.
“We are well aware what happened to your people, Jules. Trust me when I say we took every precaution to ensure our safety.”
Uh-huh. So did the builders of the Titanic, and we all know what happened there.
She smiles at Doc H and places her hand on his arm again. Her use of feminine wiles to calm him down seems to work. His stiff shoulders relax at her touch. Stupid man.
“We did uncover something astonishing before its sibling died, however. Multiple testing, experimenting, and observation all led us to the same conclusion. The mutations seemed to have nonverbal communication, yet total physical awareness of each other. They were kept in separate cells with different outside variables, yet homeostasis remained the same despite the opposing environments. Whatever test one was undergoing, the other experienced it and reacted in the same way. If one was being fed, the other keened with eagerness. If one was in...pain,” she stumbles on the word and glances our way like she's ashamed of admitting they tortured the creatures. No wonder the one in the cage hates us. “The other wailed with pain and produced the same readings. One would act with a certain mannerism, and the other emulated it almost simultaneously. It appeared to us that they were acting as a single organism.”
“Soooo, you think they had a psychic link?” Dom asks and I snort at his question. A psychic link? That's just plain stupid.
“No, not psychic. You are all aware of our shared belief that these invaders have a hive mind similar to bees, yes?” She indicates to the two docs on her left, and I recall their referring to the leeches as worker bees and the new hybrids as the queen bees. I nod along with the rest of my crew. Kasina folds her hands and takes a deep breath. “How do I explain this?” She pauses, her furrowed brow indicative of her attempt to possibly offer her ideas in a way we can understand. To dumb it down for us.
“From observing these creatures, we believe that they possess a collective sentience, where all the individual multi-cellular organisms in the hive share the same genes. This causes each individual of the hive to act as a single super-organism. Whereas most singularity sentient creatures—like humans—have their own subconscious mind, these hives replace that with a superego, which acts as a collective mind, so all the creatures of the collective act as one.”
Doc H is nodding at her words, his earlier anger replaced by excitement. “Yes. Yes. We believe that as well. Our observation of the leeches and the hybrids seem to indicate that they all work together toward a single objective.”
“True, but there is more. The leeches over the years have shown us little intelligence. They seem to be made up of primordial instinct. Feed and repopulate. Typically, individual needs but they travel in packs. Work together as one. They don't come across as the masterminds behind infecting and dominating the humans. How did the humans end up at the hives? Once infected they had to have been controlled—herded if you will—to the hives. We don't believe the leeches capable of that task, so we came to the conclusion that there are 'super minds' involved. The master brain of the collective that controls each individual organism in its hive to do its bidding. Whether those super minds arrived with the invaders eight years ago or have evolved here over time, we are not sure. But we truly believe something more intelligent and dangerous than the leeches is in control.”
I look around at the rest of my crew. Did they get the same message I did? Did she just tell us that not only do we have leeches and hybrids to worry about, but also some super baddie who gets the rest to do its bidding just by putting the idea in their heads? Please tell me I heard that wrong.
“A super mind would make total sense. I can't believe we didn't think of that, Roger.”
Nope. According to Doc H, I heard it right. The alien hives each have their very own Charles Manson in charge. Great. The news just keeps getting better and better.
“So, does that mean if you take out the head honcho, you take out the hive?” I ask, hoping I don't sound ridiculously obtuse. I don't think my question is that stupid or difficult, but Kasina stares back at me like I'm speaking another language.
“I...I really didn't consider that option. Jules?” She stares at Howarth, but he doesn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, the creature decides to slam itself against the glass, making us all jump in terror.
“Maybe we should carry on this conversation outside of this room?” Luke suggests, and I couldn't agree more.
I don't want to spend another moment looking at the half-turned creature. I guess everyone agrees since they start piling out of the room without argument. All but Sam. He stands in the corner still as a mouse caught in a trap, staring at the creature with a morbid fascination. I think I'm the only one to notice thankfully, because I swear to God, the thing stares back. And not with any of the hatred or anger it projected at the rest of us. If I had to guess, I would say its look to Sam is pleading. What the fuck?
“Sam?” I question, hoping to distract him before anyone else takes notice of the creature’s odd behavior. He starts at my use of his name and turns his eyes my way.
“Yes?”
“Let’s go.”
He nods but even as he starts to walk with me, his eyes go back to the creature. Like he really can't help himself. Just like I really can't help being freaked the hell out by his peculiar behavior.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The research facility is an impressive structure. They really do have everything they need here to survive. Well, except for food. Too bad the smart people that live here don't appear to have a clue when it comes to gardening. Neither do I really, but the look of their shriveled crops signifies that not one of the seventy people who live here has a green thumb amongst them. They desperately need help.
What little they do have is kindly shared with us. Our offering of food and a place to wash up and stay for the night is greatly appreciated. But even after eating, my mind refuses to shut down and rest like most of my crew is doing right now. Instead I agree to accompany Kelly and one of the scientists outside to the cleverly hidden garden in the back of the H-shaped building. Inside feels too stuffy and oppressing. I need to be in the fresh air.
I listen half-heartedly as Kelly explains to their guy in charge the importance of crop rotation and other shit, but the words soon turn into a Charlie Brown wah-wah-wah speech as my thoughts shift to other priorities. Like that goddamned hybrid inside and Sam's reaction to it. What the hell is happening?
Did I imagine Sam's reaction to the t
hing? No one else seemed to notice the odd interaction. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm being overly paranoid now, seeing shit that isn't really there. Gah! I should be ecstatic right now. Sam is back. Alive and intact and back in my life. But that little fucking asshole, Doubt, is niggling at my brain and telling me something just isn't right. I hate that bastard.
I wish I could talk to Luke. Express all my darkest fears to him. Make him aware of the guilt I carry by forcing him to keep this big secret from everyone. It would make me feel a hell of a lot better. But I also know admitting any of that would only make him want to spill the beans sooner than later about our hunch to Cooper and everyone else. And I don't want them to know. Not yet. Call me selfish, but I want Sam around where I can keep an eye on him. If Coop and the council have a twinge of doubt about Sam, he'll be gone from my life again, one way or another. I'm not ready for that. And I know that’s a really big selfish want since if something bad happens to my crew because of this secret, then it’ll be on me. I’ll have to live with that. But Sam was…no, is one of us. We can’t just dismiss him. Not until we know for sure something is wrong. Which it isn’t. It can’t be.
“Hey, can I join you?” I start at the intrusion on my reverie. I didn't even realize the man occupying my head had crept up on me in my little corner of the garden. I glance up and nod as Sam slides down the concrete wall to sit beside me on the dry grass. Leaning back against the wall, he pulls his legs up and hangs his hands loosely between his knees. He looks around at the dried up garden with its sad, droopy crops and smiles.
“It's kinda nice out here.”
“Yup,” I answer. “Not bad as far as sad-ass gardens go.”
He grins at me “No, I meant the quiet. I like it.”
So I let him have some more of the quiet. For a bit.
“Sam—”
“Bix—”
We speak at the same time, interrupting each other. He laughs softly, and I can't help but smile at the familiar sound.
“Our telepathic link at it again. We always did do that,” he says and I nod.
“Yeah, we did. We always knew when the other was about to say something important...,” I trail off, the impact of my words hitting us both at the same time. Is he about to tell me something important?
“You first,” I urge him.
I'm staring at his profile and the hardening of his jaw and grinding of his teeth is barely detectable, yet I notice it. I know him too well. He's gearing himself up for something. Something I probably won't like.
“I know you saw my reaction to that...thing inside. And you probably have questions.”
“You think?” I mutter. He ignores my sarcasm.
“They...,” he rubs a hand over his face. “They affect me, somehow.”
This is it. He's finally ready to tell me. I need to approach this with caution.
“Affect you? How?” I keep my voice gentle as if I’m speaking to a spooked animal.
“I don't rightly know. I don't know where to begin or how to explain it to you.”
“Just try,” I say. “Start at the beginning.”
He finally turns to face me, and his eyes are twin pools of pain. “I can't,” he whispers. “You wouldn't understand. No one would understand.”
Just seeing him in so much pain rips my heart in two. I always hated to see Sam hurting over anything.
“Oh, Sammy.” My whisper is filled with empathy for his agony, and I pull his head down to mine.
I want to comfort him. I need to touch him to try and take away that pain. His forehead rests against mine, our noses touching. His breath is warm and familiar on my cheek. For a split second, I forget the last few months. I forget Sam's disappearance. I forget the pain and doubt. I forget Luke. For that brief moment, it's just me and Sam. Like it’s always been me and Sam. I don't even know why I do it, but I touch my lips to his. The kiss feels natural, the way it always has.
I feel him stiffen under my hands and he immediately breaks the contact and draws back.
“Jesus, Bix, don't.”
My confusion vocalizes as anger.
“Why not? Why are you so different than the Sam I remember? Why can't I kiss you? Why are you avoiding me? Tell me what's going on!”
“You just can't okay. Don't kiss me...don't touch me. Just don't. Not until I know for sure.”
“Know what?”
He presses his lips together tightly like he just realizes he has said too much. But I've had enough of pussy footing around, and I want answers.
“Oh, no. Don't you dare stop talking now, Samuel McKinley. Know what? What are you so scared of? You think you're infected, don't you?”
There. I said it. It's all out in the open now, and I almost feel a sense of relief at my admission. Sam, on the other hand, doesn't look relieved at all.
“For Christ’s sake, keep your voice down.” He glances over his shoulder where Kelly and the scientist guy are peering at us curiously from the middle of the dried out garden.
“Walk with me.” Sam leaps to his feet, grabbing my hand and pulling me upright. He doesn't let go of the tight grip as he yanks me through the garden and past the two men who had gone back to their discussion. Nothing strange about two lovers out for a stroll, I'm guessing.
He pulls me past the garden and into the waist high shrubbery. We stop right in front of the barbed-wire topped brick wall at the end of the property, and he releases me. I rub my aching hand, trying to return the circulation as I glare at him.
“So you finally going to admit it? You think you're infected. You think you're all infected. This whole amnesia thing is a crock of buttered shit.”
“Possibly.”
“Don't bother to deny...what?”
Did he just admit to it? Somehow I wasn't expecting it to be that easy. Holy shit. He just admitted to possibly being infected. An array of emotions radiate through my body at that one word answer. Disbelief, fear, anger. The whole unfairness of the situation fuels the anger, and it wins out. I punch him in the arm—hard. I need to vent some of this anger before I explode.
“Ow,' he whines and rubs his arm. “What the hell was that for?”
“What do you think? Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Why all the cloak and dagger and lying to us? To me. Sam, you lied to me. Why?”
He sighs and puts his hands on his hips. The pose is so quantifiably Sam that it causes a hitch in my chest, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying.
“Why do you think, Bix? I know you're not that dense, even if you try to be sometimes. If there's even the slightest chance that I carry some sort of infection, you think any of them will help me? Seriously? You know damn well what would happen if they even suspect what you're saying is true. They'll eliminate me, Bix. They'll take all of us out. You know that. Whitman will be the first one to volunteer.”
I want to deny what he's saying, but I know he's speaking the truth.
“But what if you are infected? What if you infect the rest of us?”
“Do I look like I'm infected?” he grits through his teeth and runs his hand through his dark hair.
“How the fuck do I know? Do you look like that thing in the glass cage inside? No. Could you at some point? I sure as hell hope not. But I think you owe it to us all to try and find out. Maybe the docs inside can—”
“No. You don't know what you're asking.” His words are icy as he interrupts me mid-sentence. “I can't let anyone suspect that, and you can't either. I'm fine. I promise you. If I thought there was any chance I'd put you or anyone in danger, I'd tell you. Hell, I'd be the first one to off myself. Yeah, I admit, I'm different. We all are after this past year. But am I dangerous? No. We've been watching each other since we all...woke up. I guess that’s the only way to describe it. Watching for any sign of infection. We even had an agreement that we would take each other out if we saw any evidence of contagion or leech behavior. But it's been weeks now and nothing. I don't know why, but we came out of it fine.”
“C
ame out of what fine?” I question. “Were you in those pods, Sam? Were you all being mutated into queen leeches?” The last thing I want to do is ask that question. I'm in no way ready to hear the answer. But I need to ask it. It's not just him I have to worry about. It's every one of my crew and the rest of the people at the Grand I need to keep safe.
He runs a hand over his weary face. “To be honest, Bix, we really aren't sure. I have memories, I guess, but they feel more like dreams. These months we've been gone...to us it feels like mere days. When we told Kip and her group that we had no memories, we weren't lying at first. We didn't. Everything seemed surreal. We couldn't tell what was reality and what was a dream. Hell, you were the very first image I recall, but I wasn't even sure if you were real. Not until I saw you at the farm. Everything in our heads was a jumbled mess. Just like constant white noise with little brief snatches of words and...thoughts, I guess. I don't know how to explain it to you. But the day we woke up, we all have the same distinct memory. A flash of intense pain. Like something inside of us was severed.”
“What do you mean severed? Severed from what?”
“I wish I could explain it to you better, but that's the best I can do.” He closes his eyes and his shoulders sag like they carry the weight of the world. “I'm tired, Bix. I just want to go home and see Amy and live a normal life again. Well, as normal as our shit lives can be. So if you even have one ounce of love left for me, you won't repeat to the others what I've told you today. At least not until we know something concrete. Okay?”
This is fucking emotional blackmail. He knows it, and I know it. And I fall for it like a goddamned alcoholic being offered a beer after a yearlong abstinence.
“Okay. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I won't say a word to anyone, but as soon as we get back to the Grand, you agree to a series of tests.”
“What kind of tests?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Tests. Like blood tests and crap. There's a doctor there by the name of Jessica, and I trust her to keep her mouth shut if we ask her to. That way we can find out if anything is, you know, weird or shit. You promise me that, and I promise not to say anything to anyone. Not even Luke, even though he already suspects.”
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 16