Family

by Robert J. Crane

  “Though they’re becoming more uncommon by the minute,” J.J. said.

  “Nice,” I said with a glare. “Did you come up with that one all by yourself, Catman?”

  “Go ahead, Reed,” Ariadne said, picking up her phone. “I’ll have a chopper spun up and ready to fly within the hour.” She looked to J.J. and then to me. “I think we’re done here, unless either of you has anything else to cover?”

  “I’m good,” J.J. said. “But seriously, can I work from home?”

  “No,” Ariadne said and started to dial numbers. “And Sienna?” She caught my gaze as I was standing. “Try and stay out of trouble,” she said as gently as she could manage.

  I followed J.J. and Reed out the door, and watched techno-hipster make his way through the maze of cubicles. Parks and Bastian were engaged in a conversation, Clary lurking next to them, trying to act like he was involved in it as they both studiously ignored him. Eve stood behind them at a distance, coolly watching. When I emerged from the office she walked toward me. I locked eyes with her and she with me. The scarring on her head and face had faded since last I saw her, although she looked odd without hair. She made a move to shoulder check me out of the way so she could enter Ariadne’s office, but I evaded her with quick footwork and gave her a cold look in return. She let a cruel smile show, flashed at me along with a pointed finger that she proceeded to wag. “What do you want us to do with this one?” she asked Ariadne, and kept her finger aimed at me.

  “Leave her be,” Ariadne said. “Can you come in and shut the door?”

  “You want us to come in, too?” Clary called from his place next to Parks and Bastian, craning his head and leaning to look in the open door of Ariadne’s office. Bastian shook his head, eyes closed, and Parks let out a sigh. Clary didn’t notice. Eve, for her part, remained still, back against the doorframe.

  “No,” Ariadne said. “I just need to talk to Eve.”

  She walked into Ariadne’s office and shut the door behind her. “What?” Clary said, responding to something either Parks or Bastian had said that I didn’t hear. “Ohhhh.” The big man nodded, and a wide smile crept over his face. “Right.”

  “What the hell is wrong with that guy?” Reed asked me as I followed him toward the elevator bank. He tossed his thumb over his shoulder toward Clary with a perplexed-bordering-on-irritated look on his face.

  “A lot,” I said, not looking back. “What do you think of this India thing?”

  “I’m fine, by the way,” Reed said, pushing the button for the elevator. “In case you were wondering.”

  I looked him up and down. “You seem to be doing better than me, that’s for sure. Very slick.” I held up my hands. “No need to get all snooty; if there’s one of us standing here that looks like they’re not doing well, I don’t think it’s you.” I waved my hand up and down to encompass him from head to foot.

  He cracked a smile. “You’re tough. I’m sure you’ve faced worse.”

  I let out a breath. “Doesn’t feel like it today. Today makes me wish I’d taken you up on that offer to visit your employer.” He started to say something but I waved him off. “Don’t say it. I’m not that serious about it.”

  “So what happened?” The elevator dinged and he indicated I should go first. The mirrored back wall of the elevator gave me a look at myself. I was smudged with dirt from top to bottom, my nose had blood underneath it, and there were a few scrapes visible on my face that I hadn’t realized were there. Nothing too deep, but enough that blood was visible beneath them. They’d all be gone by morning.

  “My mom snuck onto the campus, unleashing all sorts of pandemonium for me because they caught me talking to her,” I said, dabbing at my nose with my sleeve. It came back with droplets of blood. “Now I’m under suspicion of betraying the Directorate.”

  “You know,” he said after a pause, “you could come with me.”

  “I said ‘don’t say it’.” I dabbed again. The blood had started to dry and crust on my upper lip. My eyes were red, though not from excess crying, because I’d barely shed more than a single tear. More likely from restraining it. “I’m in enough trouble right now without adding another reason to think I’m a traitor. God knows what the investigator would think about this conversation if he heard it.”

  “Investigator?” Reed cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “They’re trying to root out the spy.”

  “And they were questioning you because you knew who this person was?” He eyed me, and I saw a little cold fire in his eyes, and caught it in his tone.

  I turned to him and gave him a patronizing look. “My mom is the Directorate’s Public Enemy Number Two right now, and I almost slept with the closest thing to a face we have for their Public Enemy Number One.”

  “I agree that gives you a slight air of suspicion—”

  “Air?” I snorted and turned back to the mirrored wall, pushing at a scabbed cut in my eyebrow. “Reed, I think that qualifies as a cloud of suspicion, but a big one, like the kind you’d find surrounding a hurricane.”

  He didn’t answer, and the elevator chimed as the doors slid open, revealing the marbled floors of the lobby and a darkening sky beyond the glass windows and doors at the front of the building. “Maybe,” he conceded, “but I don’t buy this idea that you’re betraying the Directorate.”

  “Neither do Ariadne and Old Man Winter, apparently,” I said as I stepped out into the open lobby. “But I wouldn’t blame them for at least harboring some suspicions because of it.”

  “Don’t let it get you down,” he said with a muted smile and put a hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly.

  I looked at his hand as though it were contaminated and he froze. “Thanks, dude,” I said sarcastically. “I can tell you totally mean that, bro.” His eyes widened, and he stammered. “Sorry,” I said. “I probably came on a little strong with that one. I just meant…” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I appreciate you trying to cheer me up.”

  “Yeah.” He kind of wobbled. “Well. Um. I will see you…when I get back from Milwaukee, I guess.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “If this was a horror movie, I’d tell you to rethink that last line – it’s pretty close to ‘I’ll be right back’.” I thought about it for a second. “Actually, my life has resembled a horror movie in a few details lately. You might want to rephrase that.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said with a roll of the eyes. “But I do want to talk to you about something when we have a little more time.”

  “It better not be a recruitment offer,” I said, “because if it is, I swear to you—”

  “It’s not,” he said. “I’ll see ya later, okay?”

  “There you go again.”

  He laughed and pulled his hand back into the elevator as the doors slid shut behind him.

  My walk across the campus was long. It was evening now, the sun close to setting, glaring at me from the horizon with an orange stare. I shuffled back to the dormitory building ignoring the looks I got from the few people still making their way around the campus. It was worse when I entered the building; dinner was wrapping up and I caught stares and gazes from a dozen people, none of whom I really knew. The whispers were mostly inaudible but totally comprehensible; and I didn’t even bother to enter the cafeteria where the smaller dinner crowd could have an opportunity to talk about me while I sat by myself and pretended to ignore it. I was edgy enough I might not have pretended, actually, and the last thing I needed was to get into a fight with someone right now.

  The air conditioner was working overtime in the hallway to my room, blowing cold air out of the overhead vents as I walked down the hall, windows to the sunset-tinged campus on one side and plain white walls on the other. I was so hungry that I felt my mouth drool at the smell of food from the cafeteria, but I knew I’d have to be contented with whatever snacks I had in my room. The aroma of beef told me they were having that oh-so-rare treat, prime rib, but there was no way I was going to bra
ve the lunacy of the crowds tonight, even for that. Besides, I could still hear the crowds in the cafeteria, and they didn’t sound quiet: they were boisterous, there was discussion (probably about me), and I wanted no part of it.

  I opened the door to my room, which, as usual, was unlocked. I had grown used to the small print of S. Nealon on the door’s name plate, as though anyone who didn’t know couldn’t just look at the directory in the main hall entry to the dorm building. I didn’t have anything worth stealing, just the Directorate-issued stuff that everyone else had in their rooms, so I usually didn’t bother locking the door. Part of the reasoning for that was because I really sucked at keeping track of things like keys, so I didn’t want to have to carry a key with me all the time just so I could lose it every day.

  I came in and shut the door behind me, letting the back of my head thud against it. My day had consisted of waking up in the medical unit, telling my bosses (and inadvertently my ex-boyfriend) that I’d nearly slept with the enemy, getting to see one of my colleagues vent his righteous rage against my mother, getting interrogated by my psychiatrist (sad that I need one of those) then an actual interrogator (sadder that I’d need one of those); then I capped everything off by getting insulted by my mother, restrained by my co-workers, perp-walked in front of everyone I know, and then lectured by a woman who acts more like my mother than the real one. Best. Day. Ever.

  Oh, and Kat was still missing. Joy. I bet she had a better day than me. I frowned and thought of the box. Maybe not.

  I flipped the light after standing there for a minute in the dark, and I took my first uneasy steps toward the bed. I stopped, and cocked my head, curious, at a small object lying on the bedspread. I took a few steps forward and bent over to take a closer peek.

  It was a watch. A gold band with links gave way to a clasp, and the face was kind of pearlescent, with a rainbow sheen that refracted in the light as I picked it up. The numbers on the face were roman numerals. At the three o’clock position was a number for the day, and the second hand was ticking along, counting out each moment as I stared at it. There was a shred of paper threaded beneath the band, and I looked to my desk; it was from the pad there, torn out, and something had been written on it. I pulled it out and opened it at the fold, blinking as the words registered in my mind, sticking there, sending my head into an even worse spin than it had already been in.

  Your father would want you to have this.

  Chapter 11

  I lay down on my bed after that, staring at the watch for hours. It had no identifying markings on it, nothing that would have told me anything about its owner save for the note. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, but in fairness it was a total scrawl, like it had been written in block print by a hand in one hell of a hurry. Which made sense, because whoever it was had been in my room uninvited, and thus subject to trouble from Directorate security if caught. So, probably my mother.

  I placed the watch on my wrist and stared at it. It was huge compared to my slender arm and there was probably an inch of space in the diameter of the band. I let it spin loosely, playing with it, wondering if it was really his, and who he was. I read the note over and over. It said my father would want me to have it. Did that mean he was dead? Or somewhere he couldn’t be reached? I blinked, and I felt the stir of emotions that had dogged me all day.

  Did he think about me? Had he ever even seen me? Did he care?

  I let the tears slip down my cheeks, but I muffled the sobs as best I could with my pillow. They were soft, quiet as I could make them, afraid that the thin walls were working against me in this regard. I felt the cool lines that each tear made, from the blurriness around my eyes down the sides of my face and temples to the bed where I lay. After a few minutes I moved my head and realized that the bedspread was soaked on either side of my cheeks.

  I fell asleep for a little while, feeling sorry for myself, and I only knew that because I awoke with a start to knocking on my door. I sat up, breathing heavy, dazed, having come out of a deep, dreamless sleep. I sprang to my feet and went to the door, opening it in a rush. It was night, black outside the windows, and I knew that knocks on the door at this hour, whatever it was, could be nothing good.

  Zack stood outside my door, grim, dark circles under his eyes, his suit completely askew. He looked mussed, way worse than usual, and I’d seen him after just waking up. This was not like him at all. “Ariadne needs us now,” he said, all business, and started to turn away.

  “What?” I asked, still trying to fully awaken.

  “Reed’s helicopter went down near Prescott, Wisconsin,” Zack said, turning back.

  “Oh,” I breathed, a pain in my midsection like someone had kicked me in the gut. “That jackass just had to tempt fate.”

  I followed Zack, who was already walking back toward the entrance. We met Scott and Kurt coming from the opposite hallway, the dorms on the other side of the building. Scott looked a little dazed, and his curly hair was flattened on one side from what I assumed was him sleeping on it. Kurt had a slight limp, and still bore bandages on his face from the car wreck.

  “You look like hell,” Scott said to me as we met up in the lobby, all four of us striding purposefully out of the front doors and onto the warm night air that blanketed the campus.

  “You should talk, Flock of Seagulls,” I replied with a little zing that sent him reaching for his hair and finding it plastered in place.

  “You’re both too young to even know what Flock of Seagulls is,” Kurt said with a shake of his head. “Were you even alive in the 80s?”

  “Wait, were they an 80s band?” I asked. “I just thought he looked like that guy in Pulp Fiction.”

  There was already a Black Hawk helicopter waiting for us on the landing pad outside headquarters. The rotors started to spin the moment we got into sight, and Ariadne was there, along with a couple other agents. The noise from the rotors was far too loud for conversation, but I saw them loading things into the side doors, and I suspected that we wouldn’t be going unarmed.

  Ariadne nodded to me as I ducked (I was so short I probably could have walked full upright without worrying about being decapitated, but when a helicopter rotor is swinging overhead, you don’t think about these things logically) and climbed up into the chopper. I adjusted the five-point harness restraints and pulled a headset from under my seat. I put it on to muffle the rotor noise as I watched the agents that had been waiting with Ariadne shut the doors. The minute they were closed I felt the pilot throttle up and we were airborne, lifting into the sky and in motion, heading east.

  “The helicopter went down about twenty minutes or so from here.” I could hear Zack talk through the speakers in the headset. “We got a call from the pilot that said they were attacked.”

  “Where’s M-Squad?” I asked, the first question popping into my mind.

  “Parks was on the chopper,” Zack replied. “Clary and Bastian were sent out on a quick mission to North Dakota to provide escort for a couple of our agents near Fargo, trying to get them home safely after they got bushwhacked by Omega. And Eve is remaining at the Directorate to keep an eye on things in case Omega is trying to draw us out.”

  “Faulty logic,” Scott said, shaking his head. The plastered hair still didn’t move, even with his vehement action. “If they’re trying to draw us out, we should bring everything we’ve got and hit them hard.”

  “I think he means that Eve’s going to provide defense for the campus in case they’re trying to draw us out to hit it,” I said, and a look of, “Oh, yeah,” went across Scott’s face.

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Zack said with a tight smile. “After all, there are more metas at our campus than anywhere else in North America.”

  “Wait, what?” Scott looked up in surprise. “I thought the Directorate had six campuses in the U.S.”

  “They do,” Kurt responded, sounding like he was educating this snot-nosed punk, “but ours is the training center. All the young metas we’re harboring, M-Squ
ad, you kids – there are almost a hundred on the campus. You oughta know that. The other campuses act as feeders and locations for mostly human agents and retrievers to work out of. Once they identify a prospect, they get sent here. Unless they’re a threat,” he said. “Then it’s off to—”

  “Arizona,” I finished for him. “How many metas are there in North America?”

  “More than you’d think,” Kurt answered, looking at me across the darkened compartment. “We estimate no less than five hundred.”

  “Is that…a lot?” Scott asked.

  “Considering there were probably only five hundred or so in India and China, yes,” Kurt said with calm uncaring.

  “Why is that?” Scott asked as my mind hummed along, wondering what we were about to walk into.

  “If you’ve got abilities that unbalance the scales of life,” Zack said, “wouldn’t you use your advantage to put you in the most prosperous place you could? Metas come to America and western Europe in higher numbers from everywhere else in the world. Plus, with longer lifespans, they have a higher likelihood of making it here eventually.”

  One of the two agents who had stood with Ariadne was rummaging in a duffel bag. He came out with an HK MP5 submachine gun and handed it to me with a smile. I nodded at him in thanks, and realized it was Jackson, the guy we’d found when my mother kidnapped Kat. He was dark haired, and had a tactical vest over a white dress shirt. He handed me a tactical vest of my own and I unstrapped myself to put it on while he gave the same to Scott, then Kurt and Zack. I checked my submachine gun to make sure a round was chambered and then made sure the safety was on. I kept it pointed down and right, toward the door, the way Parks had drilled it into my head.

  “What are we looking at here?” I asked.

  “Chopper went down near Prescott after a tightband mayday that went direct to us,” Zack said. “It was thin on specifics, but it could have been a conventional weapon attack or a meta,” he finished, brusque.