Blood Hunter

by Debra Jess

  He thought about the beanbags. He remembered Highlight's disdain. His heart spoke before his brain could catch up.

  "Okay," he said. "Let's do this."

  The guard stepped out of the light, into the pitch black.

  "Wait," Scott called. "At least give me your name."

  The guard's voice answered as if he stood directly behind Scott. "The Shield."

  His voice was the only warning Scott had before the first blow landed.

  8

  Hannah washed the last of the blood and skin from the table, her hands shaky. Garrett had driven her to the hospital earlier that morning. Catherine, Thomas, Alek, and Evan had to respond to a red alert called in by Nik. She'd asked what was wrong, but Catherine only said she shouldn't worry about it before leaping into the air with Thomas tucked against her.

  Hannah could only sigh. More secrets. She had tried calling Scott, but he wasn't answering his phone either. She had given Eight-ball a thorough brushing to relieve her frustration. If she were with T-CASS, she would know, but if Johnson had his way, she'd be locked in a hospital room with no information at all.

  McNamara trusted her, at least. He didn't talk down to her during the whole autopsy process. It took three times longer than it should have because he grilled her with a constant stream of questions, mostly about identifying various bones and organs. Though she believed in her heart she answered correctly each time, McNamara neither confirmed nor denied the accuracy of her answers.

  When she bloodsurfed, she fixed whatever was broken and didn't worry about whether it was an appendix or a liver. The only time she had control of her life was when she was inside someone else's body. Last night she had dreamed of bloodsurfing through a body and just staying there.

  The trauma inflicted on the corpse during the process didn't ease her anxiety. From the inside, a live human body had a beauty to it, a rhythm fueled by a beating heart, the flow of blood, the spin of cells as they split. Watching McNamara insert a needle into a half-opened eye, part some skin with a scalpel, and worst of all, cut through the skull with the bone saw, reminded her of how much she didn't know about how the body worked.

  She also considered the secret she kept from him, the secret to what created Alt power. McNamara had said the body belonged to a Norm, but Hannah wished she could have bloodsurfed through the corpse to confirm his assumption. Instead she removed her plastic smock and tossed it into the red-lined trash can along with the latex gloves.

  The second the gloves hit the bin, a bang louder than she expected echoed through the room.

  "What was — " The sound of dogs barking followed the noise. " — that?"

  McNamara paused the recorder he was dictating notes into and waited. "Security above us. It's tighter these days because of the transfer of bodies. Administration must have requested police dogs just in case the Star Haven anti-Alts issue another one of their empty threats. Sounds like they have it well in hand. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

  The barking stopped almost as soon as it had started. McNamara started dictating his notes again, so Hannah figured whatever had happened upstairs had been handled. She checked the bio-hazard bin to make sure the lid was secured. If the Oversight Committee found out she'd exchanged her brown gloves for the latex ones during the autopsy, they could deal with McNamara. She was done talking to them.

  McNamara ceased talking into the recorder he used for his notes and turned his attention to Hannah. "What did you think?"

  "I don't think I have a future in pathology. It's so much different when the body — I mean, when the person is alive."

  "I'm sure it is. I have one more scheduled for this afternoon, but you don't have to join me. If you want, I'll arrange for you to go home. You'll want to be rested for tomorrow."

  Hannah looked down at what was left of the cadaver, then checked her watch. What did she have waiting for her at the Blackwood estate? Eight-ball. The rest of the Blackwoods would still be dealing with Nik's red alert.

  "No. If I'm going to watch you do this to Miranda Dane, then I want to get used it. I need to get used to it."

  "Very well." McNamara led her out of the room and into the next one. The other staff had already set up the cadaver.

  "Hannah. I have to admit, I haven't paid much attention to the news reports. Not that I wasn't interested," he said, his tone indicating he thought she would care if he had not been. "So I don't know the details of your ability. When you bloodsurf, do you absolutely need the flow of blood to move around the body?"

  Hannah put on a new apron and latex gloves, grateful for the change in subject. The less she thought about Miranda, the better. "No. I mean, at first, yes, I thought I did, but while I was healing Scott I had to move outside of the bloodstream to finish healing him."

  McNamara picked up a scalpel, but didn't start cutting. "Interesting. Did it make the process more difficult?"

  Hannah thought about it as McNamara waited for her reply. "Not the healing part. I remember having difficulty figuring out which way to travel. I was surfing up his carotid artery, trying to get to his skull, but his brain had swollen so much, I couldn't push my way inside. So, I squeezed out of the artery. Without the flow of blood I had to climb using his bones as leverage to pull myself along.

  "When I bloodsurf through the veins, arteries, and capillaries, it's so much easier because there's no thought as to where I'm going or where I am. I don't have to 'swim' under my own power. As long as I know where I want to go, I don't need as much energy to get there."

  "I see."

  McNamara still didn't start to cut. He was leading up to something. On the previous body, he’d had no difficulty asking her questions while doing his job. Now, he ignored the body, as if he found her more interesting than why this youngish-looking woman had died. It was an interest far more flattering than the Committee’s, though. They acted as if she were the one with an agenda to bring harm to Thunder City. McNamara sought knowledge for knowledge's sake. It was refreshing to talk about her ability with someone who understood the human body, who understood her ability. Scott loved her, but her power was as much a mystery to him as it was to the Committee, or to T-CASS.

  "Hannah — " McNamara hesitated one more time.

  "It's okay. Whatever you're going to ask couldn't be half as intrusive as the Committee."

  He smiled. "Can you bloodsurf through a cadaver?"

  "No." She didn't even have to think about it.

  "Are you sure?"

  "No blood, no bloodsurfing."

  "But, you just said you didn't necessarily need blood to travel through the body. You did it for Scott."

  She had said that, hadn't she?

  "I mean," McNamara continued, "have you ever tried? It doesn't sound like with your ability that you've ever lost a patient. So, forgive my morbid curiosity, but it also doesn't sound like you've ever had contact with a cadaver before."

  Her tongue scraped dry across the roof of her mouth. "You're right. I've never tried. All of my patients survive. I've never had contact with a dead body before today."

  "Would you like to give it a try?" He indicated the cadaver. "I would be curious to see if you could. Wouldn't you?"

  This was getting too surrealistic. "I guess, but what about the Committee? I mean, they don't want me bloodsurfing at all."

  McNamara frowned. "They're not here, and I'm supervising you. The recording device is off and the hospital's security system doesn't extend into the exam rooms for ethical reasons."

  No one would know what he asked of her. Another secret. She should have been horrified, but instead excitement at the illicit idea electrified her. "Why do you want to know? What would it mean if I could? I can't resurrect the dead."

  He leaned toward her, over the body. "You're so sure, but have you ever tried? Can you imagine what it would mean to humanity if you could bring someone back to life again?"

  Just thinking about that sort of power scared her. "I've read Frankenstein. Resurrecting the dead
didn't work out so well for the monster or the doctor."

  This time McNamara chuckled. "No, I guess it didn't, but you shouldn't confuse science fiction with reality. Remember, we live in a world where a woman can crush concrete with her bare hands and race a rocket into the sky."

  Hannah still couldn't bring herself to take off her gloves and touch the cadaver.

  "It's fine." McNamara leaned over the body to make his first incision. "I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just be aware, I'm not going to be the first person to ask. Others will want to know. We'll work together to formulate an answer for when that day comes."

  "Wait."

  McNamara froze, the scalpel poised a half inch above the skin.

  "You're right. You won't be the first to ask. Ms. Chung broke the law to force me to bloodsurf through her kid. It won't take long for others to demand answers. Best for me to find out now, for sure, so I can fight them later. I don't want to do this, but at least if I know for sure it can't be done, I can answer with a clear conscience."

  McNamara straightened, giving her full access to the entire cadaver. She rolled the woman's arm toward her, so she could see where the median cubital vein should be.

  Hannah removed the latex glove from her hand, and surfed. An electrical zorch slammed her body back into herself.

  "Ow!"

  "What happened?" McNamara rounded the table to stand next to her. "Are you okay?"

  Hannah shook her head. Her brain buzzed in time with her pulse. She took deep breath, waiting three or four beats before the sensation faded. "Yeah, fine. I hit a wall."

  "Well, that's rude."

  He made it sound like a joke, but Hannah could feel her rebel rising. She didn't like to fail. Not healing Jimmy stuck like glue to her pride.

  "Let me try again."

  "If you like." McNamara backed away giving her space.

  Hannah put her hand on the arm again and pushed harder this time. Same thing, but the affect wasn't immediate. She made it past the skin before bouncing back.

  "I almost made it." Her near-miss only fueled her determination. "Let me try one more time."

  "Hannah. It's okay to stop whenever you need to."

  "Yeah," she said, but this wasn't about McNamara's curiosity anymore. It was about her and what she could do, and the excitement of finding a new skill. She could do this.

  She touched the arm again, and pushed.

  Inside. She'd done it, but now what? Darkness surrounded her, the silence, the stillness. She tried to surf, but she couldn't move. She kicked as hard as she could and moved a few centimeters, but it was like surfing through wet cement. The cadaver gave her no support. The longer she stayed, the more energy she lost. Her strength faded as fast as she could think. She hated it inside, she despised what she'd done. She had to get out. She used the last of her strength to push her way back to her starting point, using the walls of the vein to propel her backward.

  Outside. She made it and inhaled as if she'd held her breath for hours.

  "Hannah. Hannah. What happened?"

  She blinked her eyes as if the wet heavy gum from the body forced them closed.

  "I did it," she gasped. "I made it inside, but it was horrible. I couldn't move. There was nothing. Just dark, cold, and heavy. Don't make me do that again."

  "Okay, okay." He gave her a light rub on her back. "Why don't you take five minutes while I get started. At least, now you know."

  Hannah hobbled over to a stool sitting in the corner. Yes, now she knew she could break the barrier of the dead.

  But, what will you use this skill for? What would Miranda do?

  No. She refused to let Miranda into her head. Not now, not during the rush of success.

  Hannah leaned against a cold counter while McNamara returned to work, his deep voice recording information as he examined the woman. Pathology might not be her calling, but she was glad she had McNamara on her side. For the first time, Hannah felt as if she had a pathway to her future. Scott would be proud of her.

  Scott sat next to the picture window of the Chung residence. The morning sun lit the tidy Fargrounds neighborhood. He could see several cars back out of gravel driveways in tandem, while a dog walker maneuvered a pack of rambunctious mutts barking and straining against their leashes down the sidewalk. Typical families going about their typical day, unlike his own.

  He wasn't far from where Thomas had kept a decoy home, the one he'd used to deflect people investigating "Scott Grey." People like Miranda Dane. Of course, this was before Scott's identity as Cory Blackwood became known.

  On a small-screen television sitting against the pale yellow wall, a video of Jimmy Chung played. Scott watched with a keen eye and an open heart.

  "Watch what he does next. You will see."

  Betty Chung's sister, Rita, had bailed her out of jail, but it had been a close call as to whether or not the judge would set bail in the first place. He had also ordered Rita to take custody of Jimmy until a trial date was set.

  On the TV screen, a video of Jimmy played. The boy crawled across their small yard and dove into a pile of grass, two yappy dogs bounding after him. Not finished, he plowed out the other side of the pile and whirled around, the cut grass that had clung to his clothes flying off him in a tornado.

  "He sure looks like a happy kid," Scott said, for lack of anything else to say. His comment brought a sad smile to Betty's face.

  "He was happy, and active. I wish I could show you his Alt ability, but you can't capture it unless you know it's going to happen. I meant to try, but then he got sick."

  Betty halted the video, the image of her son's drooly smile huge on the screen.

  "No one would believe me when I told them he had an Alt ability, but he does. I would hear sounds in the house when no one else was around. Voices, when I was alone with him in the room. Doors slamming shut when all of the doors in the house were already closed. The wind in the middle of a calm, sunny day." Her eyes filled with tears.

  "I don't believe in ghosts." She paused with an apologetic glance at him.

  Scott gave her a smile. He could appreciate the small play on his brother's moniker, glad he could provide her this small bit of humor. He also knew that Nik was safe now, after T-CASS had pulled him and one other out of a hairy situation over at the ship graveyard. He hadn't asked for the details about the rescue. He'd get those later.

  "For the record," he said, "I don't believe in them either. Nik Blackwood is the only Ghost I'll ever believe in. Why didn't you alert the Committee when you first suspected?"

  "My husband had left me, I had the divorce to think about, a new job to find, bills to pay, the typical childhood illnesses to deal with. By the time I put it all together, he was already losing his ability to balance, to walk. His vision became blurry. All of my friends said I couldn't know for sure if he was an Alt, that he was too young, but I knew he would need surgery. My mother had the same symptoms.

  "I knew surgery on Alts required specialized doctors, different medicines. I hadn't wanted him to not have the surgery because of my suspicions. I regret that now. If they had known he was an Alt, the doctors would also have seen the changes I've seen. They would have spent more time with him. They would know the child they gave back to me was not my Jimmy. I wish I'd never taken him to that hospital."

  Scott winced. He'd have to talk to his mother about improving communications with the public about Alt medicine. Yes, the doctors had to be careful about operating on someone who could potentially shift in the middle of an operation, like Blockhead, or shoot fire from their hands, like Flame, but on a child like Jimmy who had no shift potential? He'd have to double check with Doctor Rao, but he didn't see any reason why Jimmy's transplant would have been delayed if he had proven to be an Alt.

  "So you haven't heard any suspicious sounds since the surgery?"

  "No. Nothing. But, it's not just the lack of auditory hallucinations. It's his whole personality. Look at him." She pointed at the sc
reen.

  Scott looked again. The boy on the screen had a smile. He ran around like a race car driver, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling. Scott watched the way the boy moved with a critical eye.

  "Ms. Chung. I'm going to have to do some more investigating. May I have a copy of that video?"

  "Yes. Absolutely."

  Ms. Chung made a copy of the video and pulled it from her laptop.

  "Please, let me know what you find. I'm not allowed to go far."

  Scott nodded and showed himself to the door. He stepped outside, heading for his Harley. He straddled it, thinking through his plans for the rest of the day. He had another lesson scheduled at the Arena. He wanted to meet with Nik and get the scoop on what had happened yesterday. He'd received a couple of quick texts from Thomas, and even one from Catherine, which surprised him. Nik was fine and so was the person he was...well, Thomas was non-specific about who it was Nik was trying to rescue.

  Scott hadn't pressed for more information then, but he would today. He needed Nik's advice on how to proceed with Chung's case. Should he visit the sister next? Could he get access to Jimmy's hospital records? How would he handle talking to Jimmy's doctors when most of Thunder City thought he should be locked up?

  He turned the ignition to his Harley and revved the engine. From behind him, another engine revved. Scott looked over his shoulder. Sitting on the roadway, not twenty yards from the Chung's driveway was the Shield on his own motorcycle. He wore no helmet, though Scott could have identified him by the leather jacket even at this distance.

  Scott's curiosity about the bike almost had him turning off his own engine to approach the Shield, but the Shield had other ideas. He revved his engine again. The challenge was clear: chase me.

  Before Scott could put on his own helmet, the Shield's bike screeched as rubber burned against asphalt and he was gone. Scott shoved on his helmet and careened out of the driveway. At this speed, he still had to gain lost ground.