Trace Evidence: A Virals Short Story Collection

by Kathy Reichs

Ben flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders. When it came to pure physical power, he got more pop than the rest of us. He became superstrong, and lightning quick, like a ninja grizzly bear.

  “Take the lead, Tor.” I slapped on my shades—no need for a prescription with the wolf unleashed. My eyes were telescopic.

  I’d grasped her plan right away.

  When flaring, Tory had the best nose, by far. Her sniffer was so sensitive, she could smell people’s emotions. Crazy. Seriously. Crazy.

  Her talent had to do with sweat and identifying hormones and pheromones, or something like that. But damn! It even freaked me out.

  Whatever the explanation, the ability was real. I’d seen her operate.

  “Stick close to the fence.” Tory pointed to the chain-link barrier enclosing the compound. Then she ripped the plastic glove and removed the splinter. “We’ll start at the front gate and move clockwise, toward Building One. We’ll circle behind each building and I’ll try to catch the scent.”

  Hi nodded. “Circle their behinds.”

  Ben cuffed the back of Hi’s head.

  “Let’s do it.” Tory clapped her hands, which sounded like thunder in my brain.

  Hi fired two hand-shooters, unfazed by Ben’s cranial assault. “This loser’s going down, Charlie Brown.”

  One by one, we arrowed toward the fence.

  As we moved, it happened.

  That strange, familiar feeling blossomed inside my mind.

  The sense of connection. Oneness. A hidden link between me and my pack.

  Don’t ask me how, but I could almost feel where the others were. How fast they moved. What they intended to do next. Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could even catch a whiff of their thoughts.

  The sensation made me nervous as hell.

  Leave that stuff to Tory.

  At that moment, Tory glanced over her shoulder. At me. She flashed a wry smile.

  Shivers ran my spine.

  Tory believed we had a spiritual connection. Some kind of shared consciousness, springing from our canine DNA. I get the willies just thinking about it.

  Sometimes, when flaring, Tory could send us messages mind to mind.

  At times, I’d been able to send back.

  Telepathy? A pack mind? Is this what wolves experience every day?

  I didn’t know, but the whole business scared me to death. Fact: The idea of someone reading my thoughts gives me heart palpitations. Even Tory. Some things are just too personal to get comfortable with.

  Tory is always the nucleus. The rest of us can’t kick-start a mind link. We wouldn’t know where to start. But even she doesn’t understand how the link works. She can’t control it either—the ability comes and goes without warning. Go figure.

  One more puzzle to unravel.

  Being Viral can be scary business.

  Reaching the fence, Tory paused and placed the sliver under her nose. A moment passed, then she nodded.

  “The residue has a funky mix of odors,” she said. “It’s mainly earthy, like grass or wheat. But there are traces of . . . sweetness. For some reason, I keep thinking of raisins.”

  “Get after it, hound dog!” Hi crouched, slapped his leg twice, then jabbed a finger down the fence line. “Track!”

  Ben delivered a second head smack. “Dope.”

  Hi rubbed his dome. “That’s assault, bro. Times two. And flare slaps hurt more.”

  “Sue me.” Ben turned to Tory. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Circle the compound. Sweep each building. Catch the scent.”

  “Works for me.” I fell into line.

  “There’ll be repercussions, Blue,” Hi warned, taking up the rear. “Shock and awe. Punitive damages.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Ben replied without turning.

  We moved slowly along the perimeter. Building One. Shed Three. Vehicle Depot A. Building Four. Tory shook her head each time.

  A hundred yards, and we reached the back of the complex. Turning right, we hustled past the rear gate to the opposite side of the courtyard and the second row of buildings.

  To anyone watching, it would’ve been a bizarre scene. Four teens in sunglasses, creeping around LIRI’s perimeter, following a redheaded girl who sniffed the air like a Labrador. Thankfully, there was no one in sight.

  Tory was methodical. At each structure she’d probe the back door, or any other opening, breathing deeply. Then she’d move on, disappointed. In no time we’d returned the front gate.

  Tory stopped, jaw clenched in frustration. “This isn’t working.”

  I won’t lie—I was relieved. “Let’s tell Kit what we know.”

  “We didn’t go in the buildings,” Ben pointed out.

  Unconsciously, my fingers rose to my earlobe. “We can’t sneak inside every one. We don’t have that kind of access. And I’m not taking a third chance with security. Too many lies.”

  “So let’s buzz the front doors,” Hi suggested. “Maybe we get lucky.”

  Tory nodded. “If that fails, we’ll try something else.”

  I suppressed a sigh. “Something else” didn’t sound like my suggestion.

  We moved along the inner courtyard path, until we drew level with Building One.

  “Let’s skip it,” Tory said. “Security will be a pain. We can always come back.”

  That’s when my ears perked.

  Without flaring, I’d never have heard it. I was sure the others didn’t.

  Swish. Hum. Swish.

  The doors!

  “Building One!” I hissed. “Somebody’s coming out!”

  Running is not my thing.

  Tory might exercise for fun, but not me. That’s what video games are for.

  “Move it, Hi!” Ben hissed, then bolted after Shelton and Tory.

  “Why?” I whisper-shouted. “We didn’t do anything! I’m comfortable giving up!” But the others were barreling for the hedge on the opposite side of Building One.

  You’re flaring, you idiot! Haul ass!

  “Not cool!” Fortunately, I can be quick when necessary.

  Flaring, I could practically fly.

  Head down, I booked past the front doors just as two figures emerged from inside. Kit. Hudson. Their heads turned as I zoomed by and out of sight.

  My faster buddies were already hunkered behind the greenery.

  “Keep going!” I didn’t slow, kept hauling full speed. “I think Hudson saw me!”

  Shelton winced. “The last thing we need.”

  Now in the lead, I sped past Shed Three, then zagged behind a row of dogwoods. The others piled in beside me.

  “There’s no cover here,” Ben warned. “But the vehicle depot has a retaining wall. We can duck behind that.”

  He and Tory sped forward in a blink. Wolf powers unleashed, they moved like smoke. Shelton followed on their heels. I watched the trail behind us. Somebody had to.

  I heard sneakers on concrete. Knew they’d reached the hiding place.

  “Moves like Jagger,” I whispered, then pounded after the others.

  Behind me, my enhanced ears detected footfalls.

  Frick!

  Twenty yards. My objective lay dead ahead.

  My shades flew as I vaulted the chest-high wall.

  And landed on Ben.

  “Ack.” He toppled backward with a thud. “Get off me, Double Stack!”

  “Serves you right,” I panted. “Vengeance is mine.”

  Ben’s knee connected with my gut.

  “Ooof!” I rolled to my back, crawled for cover, and collapsed.

  Ben crouched beside me, rubbing his face. “You almost broke my nose.”

  “You punctured my lungs. And my spleen. And my ovaries.” Not true. But flaring, I could feel bruises forming in my mi
dsection. “You’ll pay for these crimes, Blue.”

  “Any time, chunk.” Ben slapped my back. Which hurt, too.

  “Shh!” Shelton sat, back pressed to the wall, ear cocked toward Building One. Seconds ticked by. Finally, “No one’s coming.”

  Then he rounded on Ben and Tory. “Why are we all runnin’ and hidin’ in the first place? Why not just snuff our flares? News flash: They already know we’re out here! And we haven’t done anything bad. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I’m not ready to quit.” Tory pulled a twig from her hair. Her eyes were still hidden behind black Ray-Bans, but I recognized the stubborn set to her chin. “I want to finish our inspection, without interruption.”

  Classic Tory.

  “God, I respect you,” I deadpanned, flat on my back.

  “Shut it, Hi. We’ll check this garage first, then the other buildings on this side of the courtyard, one by one, like before. Any objections?”

  Hearing none, Tory popped to her feet.

  I rolled to my side, fully intending to stand.

  Didn’t happen. My lungs weren’t ready for duty just yet.

  So I lay on the concrete, panting, plotting my revenge on Ben.

  Vehicle Depot A resembles a small fire station. Three garage-like doors provide access to a single mechanic’s bay. To the right of the doors, a separate entrance leads to a few small offices, workrooms, and an employee break room.

  The wall sheltering us was barely five feet high, and separated the depot’s rectangular driveway from LIRI’s main courtyard. Inside the wall, to the building’s left, a grassy area stretched to the hedge line bordering Shed Three.

  I lay in the wall’s shadow, directly facing the last garage door.

  From my unique vantage point—face to the concrete—I noticed something.

  Wet specks. On the pavement.

  Curious, I lifted my head slightly. Zeroed my flare vision.

  Details snapped into HD. The specks became fragmented streaks.

  Parallel lines, a foot apart. Nearly invisible.

  Tracks. Wheels?

  LIRI had a fleet of ATVs, but they used wide tires, suitable for off-road terrain.

  But these treads were thin, more like those of a bicycle. Extremely light, too. Without my flare vision, I’d never have noticed them. The tracks couldn’t have been there more than a few hours. In another, they would fade completely.

  “Something that rolls,” I murmured. “But not a motor vehicle.”

  Shelton looked up. “You say something?”

  I didn’t answer. My eyes traced the lines across the driveway.

  Another surprise. Instead of joining the path, they swerved into the grass.

  “Huh.”

  I rose to my hands and knees and crawled to where the concrete ended and the grass began. Then, pressing my cheek flat on the pavement again, I examined the yard.

  There. Twin ranks of broken blades, running directly toward the hedge.

  “Hey, now.”

  I sat back on my heels and squinted hard at the bushes. Spotted a gap right where the tracks ended. The damage was plain to see. Snapped branches. Crushed leaves. As if something heavy had been forced through them recently.

  But what?

  Then I had it. “A hand truck.”

  “Hiram?” Shelton was eyeing me closely. “You okay, man? ’Cause I’m not getting a hand truck to lift your sorry butt. Suck it up.”

  “No.” I bounced to my feet. “Look at these wet streaks. The grass. That hedge. Something heavy was rolled through here. I’m guessing a hand truck.”

  Tory was beside me in flash. “Where? Show me.”

  I explained my observations, step by step.

  Shelton whistled. “You see like a damn eagle.”

  “Great work, Hi.” Tory beamed.

  I drank in the praise. “Also, whatever the load was, it came through here in the last few hours.”

  Shelton frowned. “How can you tell?”

  “Wet wheels.” Tory looked to me for confirmation.

  “Correctamundo. It hasn’t rained for days. Whatever made these tracks must’ve rolled through last night’s dew. These tread marks will evaporate soon. They’re almost gone now.”

  Ben chucked my shoulder. “Nice work, Thick Burger.”

  “Thank yourself. If you hadn’t viciously assaulted me, I’d never have noticed.”

  Ben nodded stoically. “So in a way, I’m the hero.”

  I snorted. “Benjamin, you’ve done it again.”

  “These tracks lead . . . there.” Tory walked to the last garage door in the row.

  Though dirty, it looked serviceable. But a trio of rusty barrels blocked it.

  Ben walked over and tugged the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Aha.” He kicked the base of the door. “There’s a spiffy new padlock.”

  “Look at the pavement near the wall.” Shelton pointed to a spot a dozen yards away, in the corner of the driveway. Red-brown accretions tarnished the concrete. “Those are rust stains, from these barrels. They used to be over there. Somebody’s hiding something!”

  I puffed out my chest. “I’d like to take a moment to thank all the little people who contributed to my success. Shelton, you’ve always been a stand-up guy, and—”

  “Can it, Hi.” Ben shoved one of the barrels. “Water, I think. Half empty.”

  Tory was all business. “We have to get inside.”

  “On it.” Ben tossed Shelton his shades, wrapped his arms around a barrel, lifted, and hauled it to the side. Golden eyes gleaming, he repeated the process three more times until the doorway was clear.

  Tory looked at Shelton. Pointed to the padlock.

  “Why not get Kit?” Shelton whined. “Why break in?”

  “Because we don’t know if we’re right,” Tory said calmly. “What if these tracks have nothing to do with the theft? You feel like looking ridiculous?”

  “Always bullying me into felonies,” Shelton mumbled.

  He pulled out his key chain and selected from his trusty lockpick set. In moments Shelton was on one knee, jimmying the padlock.

  “Wish I’d never bought these stupid picks,” Shelton grumbled. “Now I’m a damn universal entry card.”

  “Poor baby.” Tory squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Victim of your own talent.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Ben moved to the wall to keep watch. He needn’t have bothered.

  In less than a minute I heard a click.

  Shelton stood, handed Tory the padlock. “There.” Shaking his head. “One more B and E for my juvie record. I’ll never be president.”

  “Pssh.” I flapped a hand. “The Oval Office is perfect for a criminal like you.”

  Tory reached for the handle and pulled. This time, the door rose easily.

  Single file, we snuck inside.

  Last to enter, I lowered the door behind us.

  Little daylight cut through the dirt-crusted windows high overhead, leaving the room draped in shadows. Safely alone in the dark, we all pocketed our shades.

  “Ben?” Tory’s irises blazed in the gloom. “Find a switch, please.”

  Why? We can see just fine.

  But I searched the wall and flipped on the halogens. Light flooded the depot.

  My eyes quickly adjusted.

  When flaring, everything I did was quick.

  Tory, Hi, and Shelton had clustered in the center of the room.

  I looked around. We were in a typical mechanics’ garage.

  The room was a large square, with three vehicle bays stationed against the far wall, each housing a pair of four-wheel ATVs. Between the bays, large windows looked in on several small offices accessed by a door in the corner.

  Heavy equipment lined the left
-hand wall, along with metal shelves and three bulky storage bins. The right-hand wall held a row of workstations, each with a tool chest, stool, and large table. A second door led to the other section of the building.

  I recognized a few items. Others left me baffled.

  LIRI is remote and needs full-service maintenance capability. Short of actually making spare parts, this facility could handle just about any breakdown.

  “Check this bad boy out!” Hi was admiring one of the four-wheelers. “Vroom vroom! What I wouldn’t give to take this puppy for a spin.”

  “Break your fool neck.” Shelton rapped an odd metal grillwork welded to its rear. “What’s this thing? Looks like a giant bicycle basket.”

  “It is.” Tory said. “These ATVs are used to stock the monkey feeders scattered across the island. The feed bags are too heavy to carry, especially if you’re heading to the swamp, or up to Tern Point.”

  “Nonsense.” Hi slipped into the driver’s seat. “These are terrorist first-response vehicles. We keep them to repel pirate attacks. Or to fight the monkeys, when they finally evolve and try to take our planet.”

  “Doofus.” I barked a laugh.

  Tory suddenly stiffened. “I smell it!”

  Three heads swung her way.

  “My bad.” Hi’s face flushed scarlet. “It’s a big room, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if—”

  “No.” Tory waved off the comment. “And, ew, by the way.”

  Tory stuck her nose to the grillwork. Inhaled. “Here! Same scent as on the wood chip.” Her eyes widened as something clicked. “It’s the monkey chow! Wheat. Soybean. Raisins. Why didn’t I put it together before?”

  Shelton raised the roof. “Which means we’re on the money!”

  Tory’s eyes cut to me. “Does the other depot service feeder ATVs?”

  I knew the answer. “Nope. It houses two more four-wheelers, but they’re lighter models used mostly for vet emergencies.”

  I slapped the vehicle beside me. “These babies do all the feeder runs.”

  “So where do they store the grub?” Hi hopped down. “That’s the question, right?”

  You know that, too, Benny boy.

  I pointed to the hulking bins in the left corner. “Right. There.”

  We raced over. Three minivan-sized storage containers were lined up in a row. Each had a single yard-square metal door, set five feet off the ground. A pair of steel steps had been welded to the base of each bin for easier access.