by Sarah Noffke
“What about you?” Zephyr said, stepping on the other side of the hole and then pulling the limp body through before Adelaide joined them on the sidewalk.
Just then a horde of masked guards burst through the metal doors, their guns pointed in their direction. “Go!” Rox yelled. “I’ve got these pansies. I’ll hold them off for you.”
Neither Zephyr nor Adelaide argued, just pulled the almost dead man away, toward safety.
Rox spun around, her fists at the ready. Five guards approached her in formation. They each held tranquilizer guns. They weren’t keen on harming the werewolves. Whoever was in charge only wanted the men returned.
“Well, hello, boys,” Rox said. “I’m not a werewolf, so why don’t you put down the guns and play with your hands.”
The guard at the front strapped the gun on his back and lunged for Rox. She twisted easily out of his attempt to pin her and as he turned she threw a kick that connected with his shoulder. She knew kicking him in the helmet would have little effect. And thankfully the kick she successfully planted sent the guard to the ground. Instantly two more guards were on her. One managed to throw a punch at her chest, but the result was unimpressive. Rox looked down at her chest and then at the guard. “You want to touch my tits, is that right?” she said and pulled up her knee, catching the stunned man off guard. Punches were supposed to hurt people and when they didn’t affect her it froze people. She’d seen this reaction most of her life. The man fell over, clutching his groin. And before she could react one of the guards caught her arms from behind her back. Two guards approached, their guns pointed at her.
They could tranquilize her and then she’d awake and maybe be a vampire or whatever crazy monster this organization made its prisoners.
“All right, I surrender,” she said, ceasing to struggle with the guard at her back.
“That’s right, honey,” she heard him say in a muffled voice. “Tony, cuff her,” he said to one of the guards in front of her.
The guard on the right pulled handcuffs from his back pocket, as he brandished a proud smile. The other guard beside him approached. Both looked like they wanted to get up close to the girl wearing tight jeans and a low-cut shirt. When they were only three feet away, Rox bent her knees, pulling her weight down before jumping up and back, forcing her captor behind her to take her weight. Each of her legs came up tucked into her chest before rocketing straight, punching both men in front of her in the chest. The assault would have been bad enough on its own based on her power, but the sharp heels made it exponentially worse. Then she dropped to her knees, pulling the man behind her over her back and throwing him down hard on the ground. The first two guards were stirring from their places when she backed up to the opening behind her. Just then a man in a silver-gray suit stepped through the metal door. The guards looked at him as though for the next order. He only shook his head, which seemed to tell them to halt their next assault. Then he turned his piercing greenish eyes on Rox, a haunting in his gaze. And Rox knew something crucial at that point. They weren’t messing with a regular villain. The person behind the werewolves was a powerful man who made her shiver violently.
“Who are you?” the man said, his accent Swedish maybe.
“I’m a diabolical bitch and also your worst nightmare,” she said, backing toward the wall behind her.
He smiled, his thin mustache curling upward with the gesture. “Oh, but I love nightmares. I enjoy creating them,” he said, looking out at the destroyed lab.
“Who are you?” she said, feeling the wall bump up against her calves.
“I’m the one who is going to win,” he said, a sincere calmness in his voice.
Rox spun and turned, jumping through the hole, running faster than most could in heels.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“There is no law on this planet that can’t be broken. It is merely our mindset preventing us from doing it.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Zephyr had traveled the world. He’d seen things that most wouldn’t be able to easily assimilate into the framework of their lives. And yet he was constantly struggling to understand this world he’d been dropped into. How hadn’t he ever heard of Dream Travelers before? How could he have been made into one? From the corners of his foggy memories he did remember being strapped down and forced to listen to music. It had seemed like such a strange thing for his captors to do. But it was a welcome relief from the injections, from waking up to find his head sore and bandaged. He never quit questioning what happened in the labs, but sometimes he put the questions into the file in his brain that was labeled “To be reviewed later.”
Adelaide turned toward him from her seat at the large conference room table in the Institute. “You’ve been unwilling to talk, but that’s going to have to end now.”
“Why?” he asked, studying the conference room. It should be lit overhead with fluorescent lights like most meeting spaces, but it wasn’t. Nothing about the Lucidite Institute was normal. Not the mode for entering it. Not the hallways. And he sensed that there was a great deal of non-normal technology inside the stainless walls of this place. However, Zephyr was an observer who tried not to make too many assumptions prematurely.
“Oh good, I get the opportunity to explain the obvious to a dumb American. Yay, me,” Adelaide said with zero enthusiasm. “You’re going to talk because you know things that can help us figure out how to find the other werewolves, but more importantly, we need to find who is behind this,” Adelaide said.
“Maybe Rox will find something,” Zephyr said.
“Or maybe they killed her,” Adelaide said, shrugging her shoulders indifferently.
“You’re kind of heartless,” Zephyr observed. He hadn’t liked leaving Rox behind, but even he admitted that it was the best option. Getting the injured safe was always the priority.
“No kind of about it,” Adelaide said, pulling a leather-bound book closer to her. It was bound shut with a strap and looked new, but worn.
“And Rox will be fine,” Zephyr said, remembering how well she fought in the alleyway. He could sense she was playing with him then, hardly trying. It was impressive and also highly annoying.
Before the door to the strategic department slid back, Zephyr’s head spun around. A moment later the door opened and three men walked through. If he was a werewolf then he would have known it was three men before they materialized. He would have heard their heartbeats.
The first man was average height, dark-skinned, and had his dreadlocks pulled up on each side, away from his face. But what caught Zephyr’s attention was the man behind him who was pushing himself in a wheelchair. Zephyr spun back around and faced the table. “Who are they?” he said, now looking at Adelaide.
“Nice men,” Adelaide said. “Everyone here at the Lucidite Institute is nice. I totally don’t get it. They’re a bunch of do-gooders, but that works in your favor in that way.”
“Like the FBI?” he said, again thinking of Rox.
“Fuck no. Go ahead and throw out all constructs you have about well-run organizations. This is the only one. The rest are corrupt in one way or another,” Adelaide said, turning over her shoulder and offering a fake smile to the men as they came around the glass partition and into the conference room.
“I brought you another mutt. He’s in the infirmary,” Adelaide said to the man with the dreads.
He narrowed his eyes at her before coming around the table, the other men behind him. Without a word he pulled the seat out beside him, pushing it away, making a spot for the man with silver hair to park his wheelchair.
“Adelaide, I’m sure our guest has been through a major ordeal and referring to him in such a way only makes him uncomfortable,” he said, his voice deep. He was young, maybe in his early twenties like Adelaide.
“Nah, Zeppy likes it,” Adelaide said, throwing a thumb in his direction.
“Welcome to the Lucidite Institute,” the man between the other two said. He had managed to park his wh
eelchair with ease and now had his hands resting on the table. “I’m Trey Underwood, the Head Official for the Lucidites. I appreciate that you’ve been so willing to work with us. And I want you to know that you’re completely safe while you’re here. Our mission is to ensure that you have the protection and resources to recover from what has been done to you.”
“What has been done to me?” Zephyr said, finding his voice.
“We were actually hoping you could fill that in for us,” the man on the far side of the table said. He had hair as unruly as Zephyr’s, but his was all black and he wore black-rimmed glasses on his pale face.
“How about we back up a moment,” the first man with dreads said. “I’m Trent, the head of the strategic department. I’m the one who assigned Adelaide and Rox to your case. And this,” he said, indicating the guy with the glasses and a wide smile, “is Dr. Aiden Livingston. We suspect that it was his research that was stolen and used to create you.”
“You mean modify me. I was already whole before they took me,” Zephyr said, and felt the anger in his words.
“Yes,” Trey said, his words gentle. “Now can you tell us anything about being abducted?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. I don’t remember much. Someone or something knocked me out from behind. I have zero idea how they snuck up on me, because I’m always hyperaware of my environment and had no indication of a threat. The next thing I remember I awoke in the cell they kept me in for who knows how long,” Zephyr said.
“Six months,” Trent offered. “You were gone for six months.”
Zephyr nodded, having pieced that together later on. Still, it was hard to piece together all the facts. Half the time it seemed useless.
“I’ve determined that Drake used the Dream Traveler conversion protocol he stole from your lab to change the men,” Adelaide said to the doctor, who was scribbling notes on a pad. “Zephyr has described him and I’m confident he’s behind this.”
“So you’re a Dream Traveler now,” Trey said. The man had a weight in his green eyes, one that Zephyr had seen on men who’d been in war.
“I guess so. I have strange dreams and x-ray vision. Adelaide and Rox seemed to think that was the indication that I’ve been converted,” Zephyr said.
“And Rox is…?” Trent said, now noticing the girl wasn’t present.
“Probably dead,” Adelaide chirped.
“She stayed behind to cover our exit,” Zephyr said.
“Well, I’m confident she’ll return soon, but I’ve got my agents at the lab now. If she’s there or has been taken then they’ll be able to help hopefully,” Trent said.
“Adelaide,” Trey said, turning his bright green eyes on the girl. “I want you to train Zephyr in dream traveling. He’s going to need to know the laws and be able to use his skills appropriately. Furthermore, help him to hone his skills and determine if there are any dormant ones.”
“Shouldn’t I be working on the werewolf case? I’m not really well versed on skills assessment,” Adelaide said.
“You were taught skills management by the very best and I trust that your father’s instructions—”
“Fine, I’ll train the dog,” she said, cutting him off.
“How’s the guy we brought in from the lab?” Zephyr said.
“The healing department is looking after him. He’s malnourished, but they think he’ll make a full recovery. He had been locked in that cell for the last five weeks,” Trent said.
Because of me… Zephyr thought. He had run, run before he checked to ensure everyone was freed. This was on him.
“Adelaide you’re going to need to question him as soon as he’s stable,” Trent said to her.
“Zephyr, I’d like you to come by my lab so I can take samples and run you through some tests,” Aiden said, and he had a light tone to his voice. “I promise it won’t hurt. I know you’ve been through a major ordeal and the tests I run are only to help me better understand what’s been done to you.”
And Zephyr noticed the strangest quality of sincerity to the guy’s words. He really did appear sympathetic. And more than that, Zephyr, after everything he’d been through, found it easy to nod at the requests. “Okay,” he said, wondering if Adelaide was right and everyone was nice at the Institute. The Head Official, Trey Underwood, sure seemed to be regarding Zephyr with a thoughtful expression. He appeared like no leader Zephyr had ever met. There wasn’t a presence of superiority, only quiet reassurance.
“Good,” Aiden said with a squeak. “I’m thinking that if I can understand what’s happened to you I might be able to—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Trey said, cutting Aiden off.
“Wait. What? What might you be able to do?” Zephyr said, leaning forward, caught by the enthusiastic look in Aiden’s eyes. The one the scientist was now trying to suppress.
He exchanged a look with the man beside him and when Trey conceded with a nod, Aiden smiled, showing his teeth. “I think it’s possible that I might be able to reverse whatever they’ve done to you. I think I might be able to make you human once more.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“If a mission is worthy of our attention, then it is worthy of our full attention.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
Smoke laced with the delicious smell of barbecued meat wafted through the streets of downtown Salt Lake City. It was overwhelming. An inescapable smell. One that made Kaleb feel overwhelmed with his desire for the protein. The last time he’d changed he’d had rabbit, but that didn’t suffice. The wolf always wanted meat even when he wasn’t changed.
The smoke spiraled in the air, circling the buildings and creating a cloud overhead in the streets. With his hands tucked into his jacket pockets Kaleb slid around a brick building and stood behind a pillar. Clogging the street in front of him were various barbecue stalls set up. They lined the street and seemed to go on for blocks. Smokers, grills, and rotisseries were arranged in the front and center of each of the tents. Men with gloved hands chopped brisket and chiseled slices off roasted pigs. Patrons lined up at the different stalls, hands held out ready to take the samples of juicy meat delivered on paper plates. Kaleb ran his eyes over the street fair, wondering what the purpose of the event was. Then his eyes caught a poster on a neighboring pillar. At the top in bright red letters it said:
“Carnivore Festival. FREE Meat!”
Why would anyone give away free meat? he wondered. Still, the smell was intoxicating and he’d been constantly hungry since he hadn’t been able to return to the soup kitchen. The prospect of filling up on steak dripping in its own juices had a weird effect on Kaleb. It made him feel younger again, not weighed down by the reality that he was a homeless man with a beast locked inside of him. He smiled to himself, thinking that maybe he was getting a break for once. Then he stepped out from behind the pillar and straight into the nearest line. A man with a full black beard laughed as he deposited a roasted turkey leg wrapped in foil into a boy’s hand. Beside the man was an aluminum tray lined with charred turkey legs, grease making them dazzle in the morning sunlight.
“Here you go,” the man said, handing off another leg. Now Kaleb was only two people away from the front. He’d tear the meat off the bone while he waited in the next line where tri tip was being served fresh off the grill.
“Haven’t you already been through this line?” the man joked to the couple in front of him who both took a turkey leg.
Kaleb couldn’t wait to get his mouth around the skin of that leg, to rip it off the bone and partially chew it before swallowing and going in for another bite.
At his back there was the noise of the crowd. Children laughing. Grills sizzling. But then there was a radio. A distinct static. Kaleb turned his head over his shoulder to spy the crowd at his back. He spun back, his hand extended to grab the turkey leg being offered, and then he caught it out of his peripheral. A guard dressed in black. But not a normal guard, rather one he recognized. Mr. Black Flattop. Instantly he t
ore off to the left, pushing straight through the crowds gathered in front of barbecue stands. He didn’t like that he pushed people down on his way through the hordes of strangers. Kaleb worried that one might have been pushed up close to a hot grill. But he knew he had to get away no matter what. With a look over his shoulder he saw the approaching forces. Three guards. He swiveled his head forward and came to an abrupt halt. Guards all dressed in black stood flanking the next intersection. The festival had been a trap. And he stupidly fell for it. Kaleb turned toward the side street, but the guards were everywhere. He was cornered.
Not even knowing if the shop was open behind him he sprinted for the door. Relief flooded him when the door to the antique store opened, making a chime sound. Employing his super speed he negotiated around the dusty furniture and racks of vintage dresses. His ears caught the sound of the guards charging through the door, their boots making more noise on the aged wood floors than he did in his soft-soled sneakers. Kaleb passed a banister leading up to a second story. He momentarily considered taking that route, but didn’t want to get stuck in a dead end. What propelled him forward more than that was a large oversized shelf dusted with knickknacks. Once he passed the solid oak shelf he veered and rammed into the back of it. It teetered first, but with another assault the shelf lost its balance, crashing down forward. He knew from the screams that at least one guard had been caught by the impact. The others had their path obstructed by the domino effect the crash caused and the cloud of dust that exploded into the air.
Knowing he had no time to spare he took full advantage of the distraction and sped to the back of the shop, where a bewildered shop owner was holding a roast beef sandwich and staring at his destroyed shop with his mouth wide. Kaleb grabbed the sandwich out of the man’s hand and continued on, bolting through the back door and into the alley. He tucked the sandwich into his pocket and then slid the nearest dumpster in front of the door. This would only slow down the guards and he knew that. That’s why he climbed onto the dumpster and made a silent prayer to himself before leaping off the top of it and straight at the closed fire ladder on the opposite wall. It wasn’t too far of a jump if he was in wolf form, but it was a risk in the current state. So he was surprised when his hands grabbed the sharp bars of the cage around the ladder. Pulling himself up, he high-stepped his foot until it found the first bar and then he made quick work over the cage and up to the ladder. Kaleb was clear and on the roof by the time the guards pushed through the door. He looked out at the crowded streets. Meat might have looked like an enticing option, but he knew what they were really offering down below. Captivity. He pulled the still warm roast beef sandwich from his pocket and set off for the next set of roofs, hoping to escape by staying on high ground.
