by Robin Craig
“Oh, she doesn’t talk about those days much any more. I guess she figures she’d already milked all the benefit and you know politicians: avoid any controversy if you can. The public might have approved of the creation of GenInt, but they have never been popular.”
Miriam nodded but Amaro could tell she had drifted away into her own world. She still couldn’t see the shape of what was out there, but she could see there was a shape. And if the shape was a geneh? Tagarin’s words returned to haunt her. If there was a geneh out there, her duty was to catch it, and that would be its death. Would she be ready for that?
Chapter 28 – Katlyn
Katlyn rested high in the branches above the path. Nobody could see her from below. If by chance some vehicle flew overhead, the thick canopy would hide her from their sight too. The only things that could see her were the birds seeking insects among the leaves. And they did not care. They kept one eye on her as they whistled and chattered to themselves, but were happy in their power to escape if she moved. Sometimes they scolded her just out of reach, if they imagined she was keeping some juicy bug to herself. Had they known how fast she could move they might have been more cautious. But they were safe; she wished them no ill. She was waiting for larger prey.
She liked it up here. She stretched luxuriantly, feeling like a contented cat in its element. She could feel the relaxation spreading to her fingers and toes; she could feel the sounds of small life going about its business of living; she could smell the odors of budding growth sweetened by the faint scents of distant flowers.
Yet there was a thread of steel within her. She loved it here but was here for a purpose. And until the purpose came to her she was content to just feel the peace and the coolness. She had found no answer to her questions; perhaps if she let them, this time the answers would come to her like the birds.
She had not been happy with herself after the warehouse. She knew she had not only panicked but also let the accumulated rage of years get the better of her. Though she was not really sure what else she could have done. She had needed to find out what the police knew and more importantly how they knew it. She hissed at herself. Rationalize it as she may, she had miscalculated. In the back of her mind and at the back of her rage had been the idea that maybe she could scare that young cop off. She had certainly looked callow enough. But she had shown more courage and intelligence than Katlyn had bargained for. Katlyn had the sinking feeling that all she had achieved was making a dangerous enemy even more so, like forging the blade that would one day slay her.
And there was her dilemma. If Sun Tzu’s advice was to know your enemy then Machiavelli’s advice was even darker. Never leave your enemy wounded; never leave your enemies with the power to do something about their hate. Her tail twitched. This was a war, a matter of life or death. Her life or death. And the advice from all the strategists in history, from Caesar to Mao, could be summed up in one word: ruthlessness.
So much for relaxation, thought Katlyn with disgust. The answers might be shy about coming to her but the questions had no such hesitation. She thought of all Daniel had done; she knew it was not all for her, but she knew it encompassed her. Could she see his plans, see him, brought to ruin by her own lack of purpose, her own weakness? Was she like all the cowards of history, the men who had broken under fire, had fled from the horror, who could not face what had to be done? And in so doing had betrayed not only their friends but themselves?
But was it cowardice? Despite her terror, Miriam had faced Katlyn with more than courage. And Katlyn was her enemy. Not only an enemy because of her criminal actions, but an enemy to her genes: not even persona non grata but bestia non grata. A non-person without rights or recourse. Yet Miriam, despite being a hated officer of the law, had faced her openly and treated her with respect, as an equal, and more: as a person. Ironically, Katlyn knew, that had only increased her own rage. She had not wanted to believe it; had wanted to smash that open face until it would reveal the true soul skulking within. All it had revealed was that Miriam was an innocent. What she had told Katlyn had been true: she had not deserved to die.
But the ghost of Machiavelli would not leave her alone. For they weren’t two schoolgirls choosing friends and enemies and laughing together in the park. If Miriam caught her she would be dead. And far from scaring Miriam away, she had given her a much more personal reason for wanting to catch her than just investigating some minor thefts. Katlyn knew strategy; she made it her business to know strategy. You do not leave a wounded enemy alive.
She sighed. But could she do it? This wasn’t personal. There was more at stake than her feelings. But she remembered Miriam’s face, how even when pleading for her life she had a certain dignity, and she wasn’t sure she could look in that face and watch the light go out in those eyes.
But that was why she was here. It hadn’t been too hard to track Miriam down in her private life, had then been easy to discover her patterns including her liking for this path through this park at this early morning hour. Katlyn had been coming here for a couple of weeks now. Miriam did not always come. Sometimes she came alone, jogging or strolling along the path. Sometimes she came with a man, the same man each time: boyfriend, Katlyn presumed. All those times Katlyn had watched Miriam go by beneath her perch; all those times she had let her. It would be so easy, she thought; so easy to drop down unseen and that would be the end of Miriam Hunter. So easy to make it look like a random crime of violence with no link to Katlyn or her mission. Such a simple, clean end to the problem; such a strategically sound way to buy time: almost certainly enough time. So far, she had been unable to do it. But she had been equally unable to stop her vigils.
She saw Miriam approaching, a short distance away. This time she was alone, walking and humming some tune softly to herself. Happy. You bitch, Katlyn thought, it’s as if you don’t want me to kill you. Then as Miriam neared, something unexpected happened. Three figures melted out of the surrounding woods to confront her. Katlyn lifted her head in surprise. They must be very cautious for Katlyn not to have known of their presence. Miriam had not known it either: she stopped in surprise. Then Katlyn smiled sharply. Perhaps there is a god for creatures like me after all, she thought; a god who answers our prayers. If she judged the situation correctly, her problem might just go away on its own. All she had to do was nothing.
Chapter 29 – Knuckles
Miriam had been alternately jogging and walking along her favorite path this morning, thinking random thoughts: thoughts of friends, family and Amaro. When she thought of work it was of her colleagues, not her actual tasks. While her work was the spine of her life’s purpose, life encompassed more than it. There was nothing so urgent that she needed to ponder it now; time enough for that when she was at work.
She stopped in surprise when three men appeared in front of her. They were young, muscular, and all wore thin patterned masks that made it impossible to recognize their features. Her surprise transformed itself rapidly into alarm. They had to be Griefers. She had not heard of any cases of Griefing in her city, but she knew that in crime and politics there was never an idea so bad that someone would not copy it. But perhaps they were just pranksters.
“Can I help you?” she asked evenly.
One of them cracked his knuckles. “I reckon so.”
Miriam casually tapped the police emergency call button of the phone on her wrist. Knuckles smiled and held up a small device in his palm. “Sorry, I think phone service is out today.”
“What do you want?”
Knuckles, evidently their leader, replied again. “Oh, not much. Just a bit of fun. Then we’ll be on our way. You make it interesting, maybe you don’t get hurt too bad. But you make it too interesting, well, that might be a mistake.” He grinned nastily.
Miriam thought quickly. Definitely Griefers then. They were a growing problem, until now in other cities: bored young men who had decided the best excitement in their pointless lives was preying on the helpless. Their crimes were various but had m
any features in common. They craved the excitement of danger, so their attacks usually occurred in public places like this. That added to the terror, as they were usually places where people normally felt safe. But the Griefers treated it as a military adventure. So they always went in small groups: not so large that their victims obviously had no chance, but not so small that they really had any. And they always waited patiently until conditions were right. Miriam knew they would not have approached her if anybody else had been nearby: there would be no one to help her. She also knew their victims did not come out of it well. There had been few deaths but that was not from mercy: Griefers liked their victims to live with what they had done to them. Liked to think how for the rest of their lives they would bear not only the physical scars but the fear of never feeling safe; as if a legacy of everlasting pain would give the Griefers their own immortality.
Shit. “Listen, you’re making a mistake. I’m a cop. Leave now and I’ll pretend I never saw you,” she lied. “Don’t leave, and you might not like the consequences.”
“Oooh! A cop! You hear that boys?” said Knuckles. The others chuckled. “Where’s your badge, sugar? More to the point, I don’t see any gun, either.”
Miriam went into a crouch. “Oh, so you want to make it interesting, do you?” he said. “Good. We like to dance.” They spread out, Knuckles drifting around behind her.
Miriam waited for their move. Attacking one against three was not a wise option; she would let them start it and hope they got in each other’s way. She circled; they circled; she felt like a musk ox surrounded by wolves, both sides too cautious to attack a dangerous enemy. Perhaps she should not have told them she was a cop; even if they didn’t believe her it had made them careful. She might have been better off with them thinking she was helpless. But perhaps this would buy her time; perhaps someone would approach, and they would give it up.
Her blood couldn’t decide whether to freeze with terror at what they might do to her or boil with rage that they would wish to do it – to her or anyone. She thought of one of her martial arts instructors from long ago, a man with a gentle voice and iron limbs. “The Way is more important than the Battle,” he had said. “All living things are One: to hurt your enemy is to hurt yourself. So do not hurt if you can stop; do not injure if you can merely hurt. Do little to do much. That is the path of Wisdom.”
Screw that, Miriam thought. She’d hurt these bastards as much as she could.
Knuckles disappeared from her peripheral vision and she knew what their strategy would be. She continued to circle. She did not need to turn. She could see her hidden opponent’s progress in the movements of the others’ eyes and in the faint sounds from behind. She would have one chance at this. When she judged the time was right, she snapped her head back and felt a satisfying crunch as it collided with his nose; then she sent a powerful back kick to the body and heard him crash into a tree. Then everything happened too fast to do more than react.
One of them ran at her; she scythed her arms in a two-fisted blow to his temple, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. The other was more cautious and approached her in more of a dance. He was good but not good enough. Miriam kicked him in the groin and her knee met his head on its way down when he folded up. She kicked him in the head again to send him to the ground.
But then she felt a sharp sting in her thigh and spun around. Oh, crap. Knuckles had risen, holding his nose in one hand and a dart gun in the other. She felt her legs wobbling already. She knew this drug; first it would paralyze her then she would lose consciousness. She had to hold on. Maybe she could still take him out with the last of her strength if he came near enough before she was helpless.
He grinned maliciously, in demonic counterpoint to the blood dripping from his nose. “Pretty good, aren’t you?” He surveyed his friends with mock concern. “Tut, tut. The boys won’t be very happy with you when they wake up. I’m afraid that you won’t be very pretty after they’ve finished with you.”
Miriam could no longer support her weight and slumped to the ground, her back against a tree trunk, looking up at him helplessly. “Stop! You’re making a mistake! If you do anything to me the whole police force will be after you.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “But while you’re still pretty we should take advantage of it.” His grin changed to a nasty leer and he started undoing the front of his pants.
Oh God, no, thought Miriam, not that too. Christ! She clamped her legs together in fright and was gratified that at least they still obeyed her to that extent. But she knew it was a futile gesture. There was nothing she could do. The shadows were already dancing around the edge of her vision as he pulled it out and started to approach her. Oh God. She thought she should feel terror, but even that was swirling off into the dark to dance with the shadows.
Then one of the shadows solidified as it curled down from above and wrapped around him, and he spun to the ground. But Miriam lost sight of the scene as her head slumped to her chest.
She felt someone tugging at her wrist, and raising her eyes saw a slender hand over her phone. Then fingers felt her neck. “Please. Help me,” she whispered. But whether the words came out, she could not tell.
Then the fingers lifted her chin, but all she could see were the shadows and two large yellow eyes. I know those eyes, she thought dimly, but she knew those pitiless yellow eyes held no mercy and no help, only madness and death. Then the eyes expanded to fill the world until they too went dark, and the world ended.
Chapter 30 – Saved
Miriam awoke in a strange room. It looked too white and smelled too clean. It held strange devices doing unknown tasks. It looked – clinical. There’s a clue for you Miriam, she thought drowsily. She was in hospital.
The terror came crashing back with her last memories. Her hands flew to her face, but there was no pain; her skin felt smooth and uninjured. She felt her body from neck to between her legs and found no breaks or pain. She sighed with relief.
An older nurse heard her stir and turned toward her. “Ah, awake at last, are you dear? Welcome back to the land of the living. You’ve had a bit of an adventure but you’re all right now. I’ll call the doctor. She can tell you more.”
The doctor was friendly and competent. They had given her an antidote to the drug to aid her recovery and there would be no long-term effects; she would feel fine within a couple of hours. They had treated her for some minor scrapes, bumps and bruises but she had no serious injuries of any kind. No, no evidence of rape. The doctor advised her that the police now wanted to talk to her and excused herself.
“The police” turned out to be Jack with a uniformed policeman in tow. She smiled at them. Stone rolled his eyes at her. “I try to keep you out of trouble, I really do. But you insist on getting into fights.”
“What happened? Who rescued me?”
Stone stared at her. “Rescued you?”
“Yes! Rescued me! What do you think happened?”
“Well, you pushed the emergency beacon on your phone. Because it was a police emergency, officers turned up pretty damned quick. You were out and there were three unconscious thugs lying around you, with a smashed signal blocker on the ground. We figured you’d managed to finish them off before the drug took hold. Though we did wonder how you got that lucky. You say you were rescued? There was nobody around trying to take any credit.”
Miriam thought. “Well... I can’t really be sure. It all went very vague at the end. I did incapacitate the first two. The leader, though, he shot me with a dart.” She shuddered. “He was going to rape me. Then they were going to beat me to a pulp. I was hoping I could take him out before I went under but I don’t know what happened. I saw something; like someone attacking him, but my sight was going. I think whoever it was must have sent the signal for help. But you say there was nobody there?”
Stone shrugged. “Nope. Not even a sign of them. Just you and your three dance partners.”
Miriam remembered the yellow eyes. But that wa
s impossible. It made no sense that Katlyn would be there; even less sense that she would have helped her. It had to be some kind of hallucination: thoughts of the case brought to life by the drug and projected onto whatever had actually happened. After all, it was the last thing she remembered before everything went dark. A dream, nothing more.
“I guess someone as shy as they were brave, then. Unless I did manage to get off that lucky kick after all.” Then her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and she fell asleep again.
~~~
Katlyn was still high among the branches, but in another tree far from the recent excitement. She had committed enough stupidity for one day without hanging around to be caught for it.
She lay back to think. When it had come down to it, she’d had to do what she had done. She had seen another creature – another person – fighting for her life, and her heart had gone out to her. There are some things, Katlyn thought, that lie beyond the strategies of war. There are some times when even the soldiers of opposing armies must unite in a common cause against a greater evil.
But Machiavelli’s ghost had followed her and was still trying to give her constructive criticism. If she had just stayed where she was Miriam would no longer be a problem. The thugs might have killed her; even if they hadn’t she would have been out of action so long that she no longer mattered. Instead Katlyn had saved her. And for what? She would get no gratitude or credit for it: Miriam had been so far out of it she would never know who had saved her. All Katlyn had achieved was to leave her most dangerous enemy alive, healthy and as keen to catch her as ever.
The tree was flowering, and she pulled a bunch of the flowers to her nose to savor their subtly sweet scent. Life had so much pleasure in it, she thought; why was it also so hard? Then all her confusing thoughts fused together into a new shape, and the shape held the answers.
