Sole Survivor

by Dana Lyons

  Again, as if he didn’t hear her, he snapped his fingers. A man standing nearby passed her a piece of folded paper. “This is where Lazar will be working for me. Come by, say, on Friday; it’ll be good for you and the doctor to see each other again. When you get to town, call me at that number and I’ll arrange your transportation to the site.”

  As he rose, he paused, slightly standing over her in a passive, yet threatening posture. “Feel free to order dessert. By the way, I see two of your men in the dining room.” His eyes lazily drifted from Rhys to Simon. “I wonder, where is the third man I saw in the drone footage? Friday, then?” He gave a curt little bow and left with his man on his heels.

  The gauntlet was thrown.

  The waiter came, and she ordered the most extravagant chocolate item, wanting to discuss what was just said well away from Quinn’s hearing, even though she could feel the sedative fog still in his mind. She picked at the decadent shavings of chocolate, loving the rich silky sensation as they melted on her tongue. Rhys and Simon lingered at their tables sipping coffee.

  He made us Rhys declared.

  Yep. And he wants to know about the third man.

  Do you think he knows about Quinn? Simon asked.

  No. His facial reads were clean, he wasn’t hiding anything. He hasn’t seen Quinn. As for the me and Lazar, whatever partial evidence he’s collected has him fully convinced about what you heard.

  Rhys complained. He thinks you’re genetically modified. He has to be shut up.

  Where’s the laboratory?

  She opened the folded paper with the laboratory coordinates and tapped on her phone GPS. She smiled.

  Bum fuck, Romania. Excellent.

  They erupted in stereo. Why?

  I have a plan, boys. Let’s go home. Even though we’ve been made, leave separately. Let’s not make it too easy.

  She scooped up another delicious bite of chocolate and walked out, feeling more than a few pair of eyes on her.

  The ride back to the base was quiet with all thoughts focused on Quinn. Simon radiated guilt. “Do you think he’s up? Can you feel him. I hope he forgives me for sedating him.”

  She pushed Simon’s words aside, for Quinn was stirring. His thoughts were like a slow-moving shutter blinking between slides. Him and Anika. The sailboat running on the breeze. Interrogating a suspect. The package on his porch. Anika answering her phone. And then came the rage.

  “Oh,” she cried and grabbed her head. “He’s up, and he’s angry and hurting. How close are we?”

  Rhys gripped the steering wheel and blinked against his tears. “We’re not going to make it, we’re still almost an hour away.”

  Quinn howled emotionally, as clear to her, Rhys, and Simon as if he sat in the car with them. Simon shook his head sadly. “He’s going to run. Damn it, and I’m not there to run with him. He’s going to—”

  “Hurt himself, I know. There’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll find him when we get back on base.”

  At the guarded gate entry, Rhys asked, “Has Major Kingston left?”

  “No, sir.”

  Dreya shook her head. “Hurry.”

  They reached the duplex and the front door was wide open. The bed still retained his imprint, but he was gone.

  Rhys returned from the other side of the duplex. “He took a pair of my shoes.”

  Simon rubbed his chin, frowning. “On foot but not out the front gate, then he’s found a place to break out and run. I don’t feel him, he’s shut me out.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “You hear anything, Rhys?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Get a flashlight from the emergency supplies.” She put on a sturdy pair of shoes and grabbed a jacket and a bottle of water. At the door, she asked, “Which way?”

  “Out by the obstacle course,” Simon offered. “It’s the farthest point from the road on base.”

  Her mouth was dry from adrenaline. She’d drugged him, and he ran. She feared he would hurt himself, run off a cliff, break a leg, or trip and land on a ragged tree branch.

  “Stop worrying. You’re giving me a headache,” Rhys said. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You did the right thing—the only thing you could do, given his state of mind.”

  “What if he never forgives me?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he looks at you the same way I do.”

  They hurried to the obstacle course. “Over here,” Simon called. The wire fence was cut in a long slice next to a pair of wire cutters on the ground. They pushed through and followed Quinn’s tracks.

  “Look,” Rhys said. Quinn’s clothes were tossed in the bushes, Rhys’ borrowed shoes scattered. The chaos spoke of panic and rage; never had she seen him disrobe like this.

  He’s not coming back!

  Burning tears hit the back of her nose. “Rhys!” She reached for him. He grabbed her hand while he hopped on one leg, pulling off his shoes.

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.” Simon stripped off his pants and dropped his shirt on the pile. He transitioned in a leap and took off, nose to the ground.

  Rhys pressed his clothes into her hands. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.” He transitioned and took off in the air with a powerful scoop of wings. I’ll be in touch as soon as I see something. You should go back to quarters. Leave the clothes here.

  She returned to quarters and dropped the flashlight and the wire cutters on the table. Unable to sit still, she paced, her mind open and searching for Quinn, but he’d shut her out.

  What are you running from? No matter how hard you try not to, I know you can hear me.

  Her thought pinged back like a rejected email. She countered.

  Ivanov invited us to Lazar’s laboratory. You don’t want to miss out on that.

  It was the best bait she had.

  Is it enough for a hungry wolf?

  * * *

  Quinn wanted one thing. Wolf wanted something else.

  The confusion was tearing him apart. He ran to keep his human mind quiet, even though he heard every thought from the pack. He couldn’t answer their calls, couldn’t stop running long enough to think what his answers were. He didn’t know if he ran toward the answers, or away from them.

  The land around the base was pure wild forest. As he ran, he relished the textures under his padded feet, the scents of the animal world filling his nose, the fresh air devoid of humanity. Here, he could run for miles, like there was no tomorrow and no past.

  He topped a ridge and sat, panting heavily, and gazed at the natural beauty, appreciating how empty it was of human corruption. He whined and lay down in the sun with his muzzle resting on crossed paws.

  Quinn’s mind so complex. Wolf’s mind so simple.

  Wolf admonished. React more like me. Drop the old agenda. Focus on the pack. All else is irrelevant.

  What about my pain? Quinn argued. How can it be irrelevant?

  Because it doesn’t benefit the pack.

  He whined and rolled over, paws draped to fall across his face, but wolf continued to pound at him.

  The past is no longer important; only the pack is important, now. Trust Dreya.

  He slumped over on his side, exhausted, paws still covering his eyes. Since that fateful day his team died, the desire to kill Ivanov had taken possession and spread through him like a disease. A special place in his imagination held an image of Ivanov’s face crushed with pain, an image he embellished regularly.

  I have to protect the pack, he argued. Ivanov is a threat to the pack.

  The threat to the pack is you.

  His heart thudded painfully. He went still, daring to look deeper at his motivations. He whined deep in his chest.

  Dreya’s right. The lone wolf dies, and the pack is weakened.

  He jumped to all fours and shook. He sat and hung his head, realizing his desires were a suicide mission. Wanting to retaliate and vindicate his pain posed a thr
eat to himself and the pack. They were dependent on him, not because he was the best trained—but because he was one of them and not expendable.

  Coming back.

  9

  Lazar worked at his laptop in his hotel room, ready for the next leg in this project: moving to the lab. Since signing on with Ivanov, he’d been writing a new program for his GeneticsKey software that would expedite designing the formula to transform Ivanov’s DNA. Once he added the last bit of code, the program would be ready.

  He rubbed his hands together with expectation. Already he’d noticed health markers in Ivanov and was anxious to confirm his suspicions in the lab. He wanted to crack open Ivanov’s DNA.

  A knock at the door, and he thought—

  Speak of the devil.

  He knew it was Ivanov because Stepan always rapped with the same pattern. He closed out the computer program and his laptop, and placed it in a drawer. He greeted them with a smile. “Gentlemen, good afternoon, welcome.”

  Stepan, the man with dead eyes had also become a candidate for a dose of Nobility, free of charge. Once the details of the process were worked out with Ivanov, repeating it for Stepan simply required a DNA sample.

  “What brings you here today?” He offered Ivanov a chair by the window. Stepan remained at ease at Ivanov’s back.

  Ivanov had a smile on his face, alerting Lazar of a challenge to come; Ivanov never gave without taking. “We have the lab in place, all systems are up and running, so we may leave tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. I’m eager to begin our work,” he said. He kept his smile to match Ivanov, knowing full well a punch was coming.

  “I recently had lunch with your friend, Miss Love,” Ivanov said.

  “And who is that?” Lazar picked at a piece on lint on the couch, averting his gaze just long enough. He looked up with a degree of expectation on his face.

  “The woman from the photograph, the one you say you don’t know.”

  “Ah. And your lunch with her concerns me how?”

  Ivanov ran a hand through his hair and lifted one shoulder in an oddly provocative pose. “I’ve invited her out to the lab.”

  “Well, I look forward to finally meeting this woman.” Lazar kept his face and body language innocent, saving his smile for later.

  “And I,” Ivanov countered, “look forward to learning the truth.” He rose, and Stepan walked ahead. “We leave tomorrow in my private jet. I hope you’re ready to prove yourself.”

  “As I told you, I aim to deliver. I expect you’ll be shocked and delighted with what’s coming,” he said. As he followed Ivanov’s back to the door, he allowed his smile to bloom.

  * * *

  Dreya heard Quinn’s call, Coming back. Rhys and Simon responded with Us, too.

  She couldn’t wait, she had to ask. Quinn, are you hurt?

  No.

  A wave of relief sank through her body. She grabbed her jacket and ran to the door. By the time she reached the point beyond the fence, her heart pounded with giddy relief mixed with uncertainty. She pulled their clothes from where she’d stashed them and waited. Pacing back and forth, she wore a bare spot in the vegetation along with one in her heart.

  Have I driven him off? Or is he coming home to stay?

  While he said he was coming back and that he wasn’t hurt, that left a great deal unspoken. She stood still and cocked her head, listening for the rush of wings or the soft sound of padded feet. Suddenly, her heart and mind were alight with love and adoration. Her eyes watered and she knew why immediately; she turned to see Quinn sitting in the brush, nearly invisible. I’m so glad you came back.

  He thumped his tail and whined. You were right, about everything. I finally realized where I’d be without you and the pack.

  Are you home to stay?

  He looked down at his paws for a moment before he lifted his eyes and answered. Nothing is more important than the pack. I can’t be without the pack . . . and you.

  Rhys and Simon chorused in return. And we can’t be without you.

  “Oh,” she cried and ran to hug him. She fell to her knees and showered his face and ears with kisses, scrubbed his neck ruff, and rubbed her head into his shoulder. He licked her face and whined, pawing at her arm and thumping his tail madly.

  Rhys landed on the ground nearby and joined in with his happy bird dance by hopping on one leg, then folding his wings to fall to the ground. Simon stepped from the brush and rolled his long cat body out, stretching a paw to tag Quinn’s moving tail.

  Everything melded into one great explosion of bonding. Her heart and mind literally felt tied to each one. Only Simon remained weak. Nobility would bring him to the pack, but only when he was ready. “Let’s get some clothes on boys. I’m hungry.”

  An energy bump surged in her mind as all three transitioned at once. They dressed with unrestrained laughter and teasing and plenty of poking in the shoulder. A glaze of happy tears washed her eyes as she watched. Each was an exceptional specimen on their own, and all three were hers; she owed every bit of this largess in her life to Anthony Lazar.

  Whatever you’re up to, I hope you don’t get us all killed.

  When they returned to base and reached housing, Quinn stripped and headed for the shower. Simon called up Burkstrom to order dinner, and Rhys went next door to clean up.

  Quinn came out and she took her turn. By the time she came out, Burkstrom was just leaving. “How do you people eat so much?” he said.

  “We’re all blessed with high metabolisms,” Rhys answered.

  “Looks to me like enough food to feed a pack of wild animals.” He waved as he backed out the door, chuckling.

  They held their breath until they heard his vehicle drive off before bursting into laughter.

  “Fast metabolism?” Simon teased. “That’s a good one.” He loaded three cheeseburgers on his plate and sat at the table.

  They joined him, crowding shoulder to shoulder above the table and thigh to thigh below. As always, she was amazed at the connection that continued to deepen among them. She couldn’t imagine her life without them and scorned the barren wasteland her life was before.

  If this is the type of change Lazar wants to make in the world, I can’t stop him.

  Finally, the eating came to a stop and chairs were pushed away from the table. The joviality of dinnertime passed on to a more serious now-what tone.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “What happened while I was out?” He slapped Simon in the back of the head with the flat of his hand, a good-natured grin spreading to soften the gesture. Simon opened his mouth to protest, but Quinn shut him down. “No hard feelings brother. I agree, sometimes you have to knock me out.”

  A hesitant silence shot around the table. Quinn added, “All I ask is do it with love. So, what did you learn?”

  Dreya said, “As you heard, we’ve been invited to Lazar’s new laboratory somewhere in a forest in the wilds of Romania. All I have is coordinates. He said to call him when I get to someplace called Cluj-Napoca.”

  She paused to let him consider that situation, then added, “He made Rhys and Simon in the dining room, and asked about ‘the third man’, apparently meaning the fourth body getting into the SUV in the drone footage.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “It was a rhetorical statement, just him letting me know he’s not stupid, reminding me not to underestimate Sasha Ivanov.”

  As Quinn regarded this information, a gleam of excitement lit his eyes. “The more Ivanov doesn’t know is good for us. After he tried to kill me, my death was widely distributed, so as far as he knows, he succeeded. We should keep it that way.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Rhys asked.

  “I go in as wolf. You can tell him the third man was a local driver, that it’s only the three of you.”

  After serious consideration, a nod of assent went around the table. “All right,” she said. “I like that because you must never show him your face.”

  “Confirmed,” he said wi
th a smart salute.

  “Now we have that settled,” Simon asked, “what’s the plan, princess?”

  She scrubbed her face and peeked between her fingers before answering. Three curious faces waited patiently. “Does anyone seriously think Lazar is going to make ‘creatures’ for Ivanov?”

  “Nope.”

  “No way.”

  “Un huh.”

  “Me either.” A busy silence spread as each one side-glanced at the next in speculation until all eyes returned to her. She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  First Rhys grinned and pulled back with curiosity. Then Simon chuckled. Quinn added his grin to the mix. He asked, “You think you know what Lazar’s up to?”

  “I do. And I think it’s worth our efforts to help him.”

  * * *

  Sasha Ivanov walked through the laboratory newly erected for Dr. Lazar. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and surfaces gleamed with spotless vigor, all bright white on stainless steel and shiny glass on slick tile. The cleaning team had wiped everything down so not one fingerprint from the crew remained. In the corner, a water cooler sported a brand-new sleeve of paper cups.

  He stepped to the water cooler, filled a cup and drank fully, then crushed the cup and dropped it in the trash can. “There. I have left my mark. Dr. Lazar can now take possession of his lab.” He waved his hand at the barren equipment. “I’m amazed that such a sterile environment can produce the doctor’s miracles.”

  “Or abominations,” Stepan added. He grunted his displeasure.

  “What if he can make what he claims? What if he could make someone perfect? What if you could choose how you want someone to be? You could make the perfect woman.”

  Stepan gave a short snort. “Perfect woman is boring. Then you have no reason to beat her.”

  “Or you could design them to like the beating. What about that?”

  “Where’s the fun?” Stepan complained.

  Ivanov held his tongue as his thoughts tossed and tumbled. He said softly, “I have to say I’m intrigued by his claims. I’d like to know the truth, I’d like to know what he can do. You don’t like the doctor, do you?”