Monster Exchange Program

by Mark Albany

  “Oh, yeah,” Stu said with a nod. “I remember reading about the missing girls on the newsfeed a couple of weeks ago. The officials denied everything.”

  “Of course, they did,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and running my eyes over the statements in the mission report again, and then the footage of the incident that had gotten the attention of the Bureau. Jags of pain flogged my temples, and it felt like something was pushing forward, trying to burrow through my forehead. I knew the feeling well, and after a moment of hesitation, I let it slip over me, covering my vision with a sheet of black for a moment until I blinked, and a few things came into focus in the form of a vision:

  A patch of trees. A small gravel path leading through what looked like a park. In the middle of summer, the fountains were still running. I heard them babbling gently in the corner of my mind. They weren’t important, though, so I pushed the thought aside, I moved forward, my heart hammering in my chest from a mixture of excitement and fear.

  Screams. Soft at first but getting louder. Footsteps across the gravel. About half a dozen of them, running in my direction. I remained hidden in the trees, watching as a young woman sprinted, her summer dress flowing behind her. She was barefoot, which couldn’t be comfortable on the gravel. She had been wearing heels and kicked them off to run better. She was pretty. Long curls of blonde hair billowed behind her.

  She was looking back, trying to see the shadowy figures that chased her, so she didn’t see me come out of hiding to intercept her. She crashed into me, but my strong arms wrapped around her tight enough to keep her from pulling away. She tried to scream again, but my hand clamped over her mouth, and the noise was quickly muffled as my compatriots rushed in to help me restrain her, dragging her to the ground.

  I blinked, bringing myself out of the trance I’d fallen into. The eyes that I’d been using felt human, but there was something different about them. I’d looked through human eyes before, but they had never been able to see that clearly in the darkness. Maybe some latent monster mutations?

  Turning to look at Stu, I realized that the half-orc was watching me closely and that the cab had stopped.

  “We’re here, kid,” Stu said.

  ‘Here’ was a shitty by-the-hour motel, by the way.

  I planned to grab some shut-eye for a few hours, then head over to campus in the morning to begin my operations. I wouldn’t know what my dorm room assignment was until orientation, which was scheduled for tomorrow, so a short stay at the motel was necessary.

  I eyed the meter to make sure that the half-orc hadn’t added to it while I’d been out. I never could tell how long these visions of mine lasted in the real world, even though they only felt like minutes.

  Either way, it didn’t look Stu had cheated me, or if he had, he’d kept his profits to a minimum. I wouldn’t have put either past him. Pulling out my wallet, I handed the man his due in cash, then pulled myself out of the passenger seat and quickly collected my baggage from the back.

  “You be safe now, you hear me, Nate Ellison?” Stu called, as I closed the car door behind me.

  “Early days, but from what I’ve been able to tell, I can pretty much assure you that’s not going to happen,” I replied with a slightly manic chuckle. “But it’s nice to know you care, Stu. You have a good day, now, you hear?”

  2

  I growled softly, rolling around in the small double bed as I searched for the annoying buzzing and ringing that had dragged me clear of the realm of dreams. Finally reaching the edge of the bed, and pushing past my sleep companion, Mr. Turtle, a small pet tortoise. My hands found the phone and cut off the alarm. Mr. Turtle didn’t seem to mind at all that I’d brushed right over his shell. He was a little one, but he was also brave and helped me feel like I was always home even when I wasn’t. When humans came around, he’d hide inside his shell, but he never did that to me. For some reason, turtles trusted trolls (including half-trolls), and we trusted them. Strange, sure, but it wasn’t that different from humans sleeping with stuffed animals-not in my opinion anyway. Plus, me and my turtle was like my favorite comic book hero—Hellboy—and his cats.

  Scowling from waking earlier than I really wanted to, my eyes opened to stare up at the bleak, dark ceiling of the motel room I had rented for the night. The common anecdote shared among my people was that trolls only needed about three hours of sleep every night to be ready for the day ahead. It was mostly based on mythology, but it was religiously followed, and there was actually some scientific data to back up the claim.

  Of course, I was only half troll, and while I did need less rest than most humans I’d had the pleasure of meeting, I still needed more than three hours. Well, maybe needed was too strong a word. Wanted was more accurate. I had lived on three hours of sleep a night, especially during my early days at Quantico and the M&M Branch’s separate training section, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

  I’d ended up settling for about five when I set my alarm the night before, and I regretted it now. Sure, I wasn’t in the Academy anymore and didn’t have the chief looking over my shoulder with his fits of shouting and stomping, but that didn’t mean I would be allowed to let my standards of fitness and professional habits slip.

  This was a civilized location, and by the gods, I was going to respect that.

  My feet touched the carpeted floor as I pulled myself up from the bed, groaning softly as I quickly patted Mr. Turtle, and stumbled to the bathroom. The motel was right on the outskirts of the campus, maybe a five-minute walk from the dormitory buildings. The fact that there was an option to pay by the hour was telling. The place was mostly used by horny college students wanting to get their freak on in private.

  Whoever had opened this motel was a damn genius.

  Next was a visit to the bathroom, a quick shave across my grayish jawline, polishing my tusks and brushing the rest of my teeth, and making use of the facilities for a few minutes before making my way back into the bedroom. I’d packed all the clothes I needed for the trip, which included some workout clothes that were meant to accommodate the powerful muscles that were a famous attribute of my kind. I pulled the clothes on, as well as some extra-wide jogging shoes, and made my way out of the room, careful to lock it before leaving.

  It was early. Earlier than most college students tended to be up during the semester. The fact that it was the first day of the semester, with most of the students involved in returning from their summer break and getting situated, meant that the place would be fairly deserted at this hour. An early morning jog would double as an excellent way to scout the premises, find the gravel path I had seen in the footage, and check the place out for any evidence that may have been left behind. After three weeks, I didn’t have much hope for that, but the mission parameters implied a duty to be thorough. So, I would search the scene with due diligence.

  It was just past the crack of dawn, the sky barely changing from dark blue to pink by the time I stepped outside, breathing in the refreshingly cool morning air as I started jogging toward the campus. There was some movement already. A few students and professors made their way toward the various lecture and research halls, but they were the exception and not the rule. I had the place to myself, for the most part.

  Once I passed the various parking lots and headed into campus proper, one detail came to me that was simultaneously promising and deflating. All of the pathways within were made out of the same finely ground, smooth type of gravel that I remembered seeing in my vision.

  Finding the exact spot would be complicated, I realized, as the people who designed this place were apparently in love with gravel for some reason. I kept jogging, keeping my eyes open for anything resembling the same formations of trees and bushes from the footage. They had to be close enough to be within earshot of some fountains. That much, I remembered.

  I did a couple of rounds over the grounds, keeping a good, strong pace, almost a full run, feeling the sweat soak into my clothes as a welcome burn started in my thighs and
calves. I kept moving until I found a map of the campus. Most of the buildings were identified with only a basic covering of the paths between them, making things complicated. But there was a marker for some fountains at the very center, which appeared to be the best place to start. I headed off in that direction, kicking up gravel as I picked up my pace and ran toward them.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky, I noticed that the number of people—exclusively human—was greater than before, and a handful had the time to point and look at the oddity of a half-troll jogging around the facility. There was no hostility in their looks as far as I could see, but I was apparently worth commenting on.

  I didn’t mind, having experienced the pointing and stares for most of my life. I wasn’t about to let it start bothering me now.

  The fountains were already on, bubbling water up over statues of a group of cherubs chasing each other around. It was a nice area, with some benches and a handful of tables with checkered markings on them to encourage chess or checkers, giving the whole place a mixture of a natural, soothing, and studious environment.

  No sign of anything that rang a bell when it came to the footage, I thought, pausing for a moment when my lungs began to beg for a break from the exercise. For a few seconds, I looked around the place, tilting my head and trying to think of what I could do. I’d been running for a little under an hour now, and that wasn’t going to stand as cover for much longer.

  There was an answer to my problems, I realized, temporary though it might be. An open-air workout area, with bars for pullups, planks to be used for sit-ups, and even push-ups for those who were ambitious enough to try. It would be a good cover for about fifteen minutes as I went through the variety of body-weight exercises that were possible with the equipment. I didn’t mind that kind of exercise, but I would have to look into finding a proper gym around here to keep up with my standards for personal fitness.

  I jogged over to the pieces and started with the bars, jumping lightly to the highest one, the only one that could accommodate my six-foot, seven-inch frame. Pulling up slowly, I kept my eyes on my surroundings, trying to get my bearings on the locations I’d already written off and mentally marking those I still needed to check out. That would come later, though. I pulled myself up, then twisted my grip around so I could push myself higher until my hips were parallel to the bar before slowly dropping. Keeping my movements painfully slow was the best way to keep up the muscle tone that I was only slightly embarrassed to admit I was proud of. I repeated the motion fifteen times before a brief pause and then went through the set two more times.

  More eyes looked my way, but the curiosity I’d seen before was now replaced with something more akin to interest, most notably in the eyes of the female students, and even a couple of professors who were passing through the area. A handful hung back, pausing on their way to what looked like the dining hall to wonder aloud what a troll was doing on campus.

  I quickly switched over to pushups on the sit-up plank, using the angle to improve the workout. I added three sets to that before moving on to sit-ups, taking my time and trying to ignore the whispers that my keen ears picked up on. People really did forget how good troll hearing was, even if the ears were only half-troll and decidedly smaller but still showing off the telltale point.

  Finished with my workout, I dropped into a crouch as I eyed the area one more time, scanning my surroundings as my fingers ran through my sweat-soaked hair.

  Let them stare at my tusks, my ears, or my grayish skin, I thought, pushing myself back up to my full height and rolling my neck. As long as they were staring at the obvious, they would miss the subtle. That was the whole point of sending me, or so it had been implied.

  Orientation would start in about an hour and a half, I realized, once I checked my watch. It was time to head back to my room, shower, and made myself presentable. I should probably check out of the motel too, considering that enrolling meant that I would get a dorm room with one of the other students on campus. I wasn’t a fan of the arrangement, of course. I was the kind of guy who needed my space, but some sacrifices came with the job. It was a job I wanted, so I’d do what was needed without too much fuss.

  I stopped mid-step when I heard a soft scream, not twenty feet away from where I was. My instincts being what they were, I couldn’t help the suspicion and assumption of luck that I had somehow just walked into another kidnapping. Sure, it was a dumb thought. I realized that almost immediately as I turned around to see what it was. Not only was it highly unlikely that the perp would try something as stupid as kidnapping a student in broad daylight, but they would also avoid doing it with so many witnesses present.

  A quick look confirmed my speculation as I saw two young women—students with that preppy, cheerleader look about them—standing over a piece of tech that had dropped to the ground.

  “Fuck,” the blonde one shouted as she picked up the device and studied it closely, pressing a few of the buttons on the side. “It’s bricked. My dad’s going to kill me. He already gave me grief over jumping into the pool with my other phone.”

  I took a moment to consider my position. Sure, I wanted to get back for a shower, but I could take the time to try and help the young woman with her phone. Besides, an hour and a half was more than enough time to get back, shower, change, and check out, and still be on time for orientation. I mentally shrugged. Why not?

  Apparently, seeing me stroll over was enough to divert both cheerleaders’ attention. The blonde was the first to see me. She narrowed her eyes as I approached. She was tall, lean, and wore her hair tied up in a ponytail. Her friend, a shorter, more curvaceous Asian human with her black hair hanging over her shoulders, quickly followed suit.

  “Hey,” I said with a small smile, revealing none of the nervousness that was rapidly puddling in the depths of my stomach. “I can take a look at that.”

  They didn’t answer immediately, quickly sharing a glance between themselves before turning back to me.

  “You think you can fix it?” the Asian girl asked.

  “I think I can try,” I said. When she eyed me with suspicion, I added, “Where do you think I’m going to go with it? Besides, it’s broken. It’s not like you have anything to lose.”

  The Asian chick turned to her friend, who shrugged. She looked tired and unwilling to deal with any drama at this point.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I don’t know what you think you can do with it. These new things are really useful, but they break with any kind of bump. I swear to God, they need to start making them sturdier.”

  Gods, I corrected her mentally but didn’t say anything aloud as she handed me the device. The screen was cracked pretty badly, which meant that the holographic capabilities would be limited until she could replace it, but that wasn’t the problem that kept the device off. With the two women watching me closely, I moved over to one of the empty checkerboard tables. There were tricks that my mother had taught me over my formative years that had stuck, and they had proved rather helpful. My thick fingers were deceptively deft as I quickly took the device apart, memorizing where each piece went as the screen came off first, then the battery, followed by a handful of the safety components, then the comm chip and a tiny SD drive.

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned closer as I inspected the motherboard. As suspected, the impact with the ground had jarred a couple of the cells used for connecting the battery to the motherboard, thus causing the issues. Most professional engineers would have missed it, but it was a common problem found among a tribe of trolls whose first instinct was to salvage and repair any broken device they came across. Angry people called us scavengers. Nicer ones referred to us as recyclers. I wasn’t sure which was the more accurate description.

  A light tap was all that was needed to put both of the cells back into place, and I went through a quick check routine to make sure nothing else was broken or dislodged before I put the device back together again. The whole process had taken me less than five minutes. Once I put the
last piece in place, I pressed the power button on the side, and the screen immediately lit up with the manufacturer’s logo.

  “Holy shit,” the blonde said, grabbing her phone back from my outstretched hand, almost disbelieving that I’d actually done it.

  “You’ll still need to replace the screen,” I advised her, rubbing my hands together. “But that will be cheaper than a new phone.”

  “Wow, you’ve got serious skills,” she said with a little chuckle as she quickly logged in before turning her attention back to me. “I’m Jennifer, by the way. Jennifer St. George.” She put her hand out as she spoke.

  “And I’m Crystal Jeong,” her friend added, quickly offering her hand for me to shake as well. Her hand lingered in mine a bit longer than usual, her soft skin so tender in my grip.

  “I’m Nate like I said.” I gave them a small smirk as I pulled my hand back. “It was nice to meet you both. Have a nice day.”

  I wasn’t much for awkward, apologetic conversations, which I felt was coming next, so I walked away and headed back to the motel. As I walked, though, I heard them start to talk about me once they thought I was out of earshot.

  “See the way he moved his fingers?” came the higher-pitched voice I associated with Crystal.

  “Gets you thinking, doesn’t it,” Jennifer replied with a giggle.

  “I’ve heard a rumor, one about trolls being hung like fucking porn stars,” Crystal added. “Every last one of them.”

  “Maybe half-trolls, too,” Jennifer replied. “And he’s just on the right side of rugged to make him handsome enough for me to want to try and find out.”