Pursuit r-7

by Andy Mangels

  The man smiled. Zan noticed he looked a lot like the weasely Cypher guy from The Matrix, and that he was dressed awfully well. "I'm not looking for trouble," the man said. "I'm looking for you. The Royal Four. “

  An hour later Kal Langley had imparted all of the knowledge to the Royal Four that he planned to for now. He wasn't sure what their destiny was, but at sixteen years of age, none of them seemed overly concerned with getting back to their home planet.

  When they told him they had a lair underneath the New York city streets… "an underground lair like Lex Luthor had in the first Superman movie," Rath had bragged… Langley had offered to help them secure some aboveground lodgings. Although he didn't say it, they stank, and their post-punk outfits and lifestyle were hardly conducive to a prosperous future.

  They had turned him down, intent on making it "on their own." They did accept the alien artifacts he gave them, however, as well as the knowledge that he shared with them. But that was all they said they wanted.

  We'll see where they are in a couple years, Langley thought as he bid them good-bye. They're a lot tougher than that Roswell group.

  En route to New York City. Fall 2002.

  As Bartolli gave the members of the strike team their instructions as to how to deal with the prisoners, Margolin called Agent Harrison. He used his cell phone rather than the airplanes phone, more out of habit than a fear of the signal being compromised.

  "What's the progress in Cheyenne, Agent Harrison?" he asked as soon as the young agent picked up.

  The man hesitated. "Not good, sir. It appears that the agents there engaged in a confrontation with the teens, and that the kids escaped. “

  "Where was this confrontation? “

  "It was at the mall, sir, but most of it was apparently away from the public view. Unfortunately, word has leaked out from law enforcement there, largely because of the circumstances. The targets blew out a store window, collapsed part of a concrete hallway on which the agents were standing, and caused a multiple-car accident. It's hard to contain that from the media. “

  Margolin gritted his teeth. "Get it contained. No footage on the news. Confiscate all security tapes and whatever else might be around. “

  "What about the cover story?" Harrison asked. "Currently, it's very vague, announcing only that these are possible terrorist actions, and that the FBI is looking into it. No descriptions or pictures of the six teens have been disseminated. “

  "That's about the best cover story we can go with given the public nature of the… " Something clicked in Margolin's brain. "Did you say 'six teens'? “

  "Yes, sir. Max and Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, Liz Parker, Maria DeLuca, and Kyle Valenti were spotted. Tess Harding was not seen with them. “

  Margolin's mind whirled. "Get me visual confirmation on that from the mall security cams as soon as you can, Harrison. We may have a problem. “

  "What's that, sir? “

  "We're en route to New York City right now, and the army has taken into custody… this morning… Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, and Tess Harding. “

  There was another beat of silence, and Margolin imagined that Harrison was as shocked by the news as he himself was. "I'll work on visuals immediately, sir. “

  Margolin clicked off the phone and called for Bartolli.

  What are we dealing with here? he thought. How can Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin be in two places at once? Can there be more than one of each of them? Bertram had said that Guerin had evidenced shape- changing powers. If that's true, couldn't the aliens be anyone among them? fust how many of them are there, anyway? Colonel Bertram welcomed his old friend with a hearty handshake. "You're looking well, Matt." It was a lie and the truth all at once. Margolin was so scarred up that he never looked well, but he did seem fit and trim.

  Margolin nodded and offered a slight smile. "Thanks, Grant. You too." He gestured to the dangerous- looking man at his side. "This is Bartolli. “

  Bertram started to extend his hand, but noticed that Bartolli didn't seem to be one for niceties, so he withdrew it and just nodded.

  Eight paramilitary-outfitted agents trooped into the facility behind Margolin and Bartolli. "Sorry I don't have time to play catch-up, Colonel," Margolin said. "We need to see the prisoners. “

  Bertram nodded and extended his arm. "Right this way. “

  They came down a wide hallway, passing by the armed guards outside the heavy steel doors. A side room had a bank of monitors, each showing the rooms from different angles. A guard sat nearby, keeping a steady eye on the monitors. The three teens were exactly as Bertram had last seen them, strapped to their chairs, immobile.

  Margolin leaned in to see the monitors, studying each of them closely. Bartolli's eyes scanned the monitors as well, though not from as close a vantage point.

  Pointing at the image of the boy, Margolin asked, "Is this the one that changed his shape? “

  "It wasn't exactly his shape," Bertram said. "It was more his face. It was like Mission: Impossible, except it didn't involve tearing off a rubber mask. It was as though his features just melted and reshaped themselves. Damnedest thing I ever saw. “

  "Did either of the girls change their faces or display any unusual abilities?" Bartolli asked, his voice raspy. It was the first thing he'd said since entering the facility.

  Bertram shook his head. "No, they were pretty well debilitated by the gas the police used. “

  "They're about to be even more debilitated," Margolin said. "Colonel, please remove your men from this corridor. “

  The guard in the monitor room looked at Bertram, and the colonel nodded. The man left. Bertram stepped into the corridor. "All right, men, please exit the corridor. Take a lunch break. “

  After his men had left, the agents of Margolin's who had been waiting in the corridors swiftly moved into position. Canisters were dumped through a resealing chute. Bertram looked back at the monitors and saw them drop into the detention rooms. A barely visible vapor rose out of the canisters.

  At first, the teens struggled against their bonds, and tried to hold their breath, knowing they were being gassed again. But after a few minutes, all three were unconscious.

  Bartolli stepped out of the room and barked an order to the agents. Bertram watched as they donned gas masks and entered the rooms, unlocking the bonds that his man had put on the detainees and replacing them with cuffs and restraints of their own.

  With Bartolli out of the room and headed down toward the detention chambers, Bertram finally saw his chance to speak to his old friend in private. "So, Matt, do you mind telling me what all this is about? “

  Margolin regarded him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Matt. “

  "Come on," Bertram said. "I did catch these kids for you. And it's not like I'm bad at keeping secrets related to special operations." He knew that Margolin could not have missed his veiled reference to their missions back in the Nam.

  Margolin looked at him pointedly. "No. This one's strictly need-to-know. And any further inquiry or investigation into this… would not be looked upon favorably “

  He turned to exit the room, then turned back around in the doorway. "Thanks for your help, Grant. And, in advance, for your discretion. We'll take it from here. “

  As Margolin walked away, Bertram stared at him. He couldn't be sure, but he felt as if his old friend had just threatened him.

  Whoever or whatever these kids are, something very nasty is going down here.

  12 Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Maria unscrewed the top of the vial she wore on a chain around her neck. The scent of the eucalyptus oil immediately wafted into the air, and she inhaled it deeply. It calmed her, especially in times of high stress.

  "Fine, I'll just wait out here then," Michael said grumpily. He was sitting in the VW's drivers seat.

  "Oh, sometimes you're such a baby," Maria said, exasperated. "You don't even want us to do this at all. Why do you wan
t to go in, now? “

  Michael made a face. "Who said I did? “

  Maria gritted her teeth and growled. Before she said anything she would regret, she turned her back and moved over to join the others.

  "Okay, so have I said recently how thrown-together this plan is?" Maria asked quietly as the group, minus Michael, walked away from the van and made its way toward the hospital entrance. The others ignored her.

  "We don't know this place," Max said, his voice hushed. "I'm going to need as many distractions as I can get if I'm going to have enough time to find the patients we're looking for. “

  "Hold on a second," Isabel said, and the group stopped. "One more thing before Liz goes in." She reached forward and put her hands to either side of Liz's head. A slight glow spread out from her palms, and Liz's raven-colored hair changed to a light blond.

  "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Maria said. "Blond? Let's play into the stereotypes. “

  "Hey, whatever helps the actress get into character," Isabel said. "I can change it back later. “

  "Yeah, thanks," Liz said, her tone a little grumpy.

  As they neared the entrance, Max split off to one side, heading around the building toward a secured side door they had spotted. Isabel and Kyle squatted in the shadows, behind a bench.

  Maria took a deep breath, then looked at Liz. "Ready, girlfriend? “

  "Yeth, thertainly," Liz said in a singsong lisping voice.

  "Oh, Lord, please don't do Cindy Brady," Maria said as the sliding doors opened in front of them.

  The two girls moved across the lobby, where two women and a male nurse were working behind a semicircular desk. As they approached, one of the women took a set of clipboards and a tray and exited through a side opening in the counter. She didn't acknowledge their presence, but instead hurried over to an elevator and punched the call button.

  "Can I help you?" the male nurse asked.

  Liz put on her best smile and flipped her hair back with a toss of her head. "Hi," she said. "We were wondering how those poor people who were in that big car accident were doing? That girl and that other girl? Or lady or whatever? “

  The nurse frowned slightly. "They're both currently in critical condition, but we're hoping for the best. Do you know them? “

  "Yeah, um, okay, like we think we know the one girl," Maria said, putting on her best airhead voice. "The picture they showed on the news looked like this girl that's in our trigastronomy class, and we, like, thought maybe she'd want some good wishes from her classmates, you know? “

  The man looked befuddled. "You must mean Shania Cameron. But you do realize that it's two-thirty in the morning and… “

  "Yeah, that's it. Shania! Liz said, turning to Maria and slapping her on the hand. "1 told you." She turned back to the nurse. "She thought it was Monique. But I told her it was Shania. Like that singer, you know? “

  Maria saw the female nurse roll her eyes and turn away, intent on her work… or trying hard to appear to be. "Okay, Gabrielle, I get it. You're smarter than me. Whatever." Maria looked back toward the male nurse. "So how's the other lady? She was, like, driving, when they had that big accident. “

  "Mrs. Dobbs is in critical condition, like 1 said," the nurse replied. "But visiting hours are… “

  "Is your job hard?' Liz asked, her voice raised slightly. She moved away from Maria, down the counter, toward the female nurse. "Me and Tamara have talked about, like what we want to do when we get old, you know, like you! We thought nursing might be fun. 'Cause we like to help people and stuff. “

  The female nurse glared up at her, one eyebrow cocked. "First, I’m only twenty-six, which is not 'old.' Second, and no offense intended, but I'm not sure nursing is the right profession for you, miss. “

  Liz put her hand up to her mouth and directed her comment to the male nurse. "Oooh, guess I hit a nerve. “

  As Liz was doing her shtick, Maria moved up on her tiptoes and scanned anything on the desk that might tell her where the critical patients were. She thought she could see something on the monitor, but if she looked closer, she'd risk the male nurse seeing her snooping.

  Suddenly Liz let out a yelp, then fell to the ground, out of sight on the other side of the desk. The two nurses rushed out to help her.

  "Are you all right?" the male nurse asked.

  "I think I twisted my ankle," Liz said. "I'm not used to walking in flats. “

  "Let's get you over to the couch," the female nurse said, gesturing over to the waiting-area couches nearby. A television set mounted on the wall was tuned to a news channel.

  As soon as the two nurses were occupied with Liz, Maria nudged the computer monitor and quickly scanned the screen. Bingo. The information she needed was there. She moved around the desk and, in a plaintive wail, asked, "Where's the bathroom? I really have to tinkle. “

  The female nurse called out to her. "It's around the desk, to the right and down the corridor. “

  "Thanks," Maria said. "I'll be right back. “

  Behind her, she heard the male nurse ask Liz if she had been drinking tonight. Maria moved quickly down the corridor, and as she neared a unisex bathroom, she saw the door creak open. Max was inside, with the lights turned out. "You scared me!" Maria said.

  "Sorry," Max responded. "Best place to hide. “

  Maria sneaked a quick look down the hall and closed the door behind her. "Okay. The critical care ward is on this floor, just down the next hallway. You want the rooms of Shania Cameron and Denise Dobbs. I think they're in 120 and 126. Check the charts to be sure. “

  "Good work," Max said. "How much time do I have? And is anyone else around? “

  "There's one nurse doing rounds, but she went up in the elevator. I think you're okay for a bit. Liz and I will distract them for a few minutes more, and then it's Isabel and Kyle's turn. “

  Max opened the door and peered around the frame.

  "Good luck," Maria whispered as he moved quickly down the hall.

  As Max jogged down the darkened hospital corridor, he could feel the pain around him. He wasn't generally any more empathic than humans, but his sensitivity always kicked in the strongest whenever he was in a hospital. And in the last few years, he had been in hospitals far too many times.

  Growing up, he and Isabel hadn't often been sick, so they had rarely needed medical attention. The Evanses had just thought they'd adopted extraordinarily healthy children. Little did they know at the time that the emphasis should have been on the word extraordinarily.

  But Liz had changed all that. Since sharing for the first time with a nonalien the secrets of his past and present, Max had been involved in medical emergencies and traumas at least half a dozen times. Sometimes he had used his powers to heal, and other times he hadn't. But everything changed during Christmas 2000, when he hadn't used his powers to save the life of John Littlefield, a young father. Littlefields ghost had haunted Max, telling him to "restore the balance." At the time, he took it to mean the balance of one man's life for the children, but he finally understood that the use of his innate powers was a gift he could give others; it was healing and positive, in stark contrast with his other, more offensive powers. That was the balance.

  Still, the others were right to be concerned about the aftereffects of his healing powers. Liz had indeed inherited something from him, and it now appeared that Kyle was developing extra-normal powers as well. What exactly would happen to the ward full of children whom he had healed in Phoenix that Christmas? What was going to happen to Jim Valenti? Max found Room 120 and checked the chart on the door. It read DENISE DOBBS, the name Maria had given him. He moved toward her in the dim light of the room, shuddering momentarily at the sight of the various medical machines to which the woman was connected. They looked so invasive, and yet he knew they were keeping her alive. Still, his mind flashed briefly to the White Room and Agent Pierce, who had intended to take him apart surgically, piece by piece. Shuddering, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, a
nd took notice of the readings on a few of the machines.

  Since it didn't have the clip-on finger monitor attached, Max took Denise's left hand in his. Pressing her hand between his palms, he concentrated. A silver glow emanated through his hand and down her arm; in moments, it suffused her chest, then her neck and head. Max focused… And saw a large man scooping to pick him up, a smile on his wide, craggy, bearded face… A dark-haired man in a wheelchair, dressed in a tuxedo, putting a wedding ring on his finger… A nurse holding twin babies, still mottled pink-and-red… His hands setting onto a gleaming desktop with a nameplate that read DENISE DOBBS, VICE PRESIDENT OF MARKETING… The black sedan careening toward them in the intersection, with no time to stop, no choice but to throw his arm to the side to protect his daughter in the front seat… And then Max was back in his own mind and body. He released the woman's hand and let it drop to the bed, where her fingers twitched slightly. In the dim light, they retained a visible trace of his glowing silver energies.

  Max looked at the machines and was gratified to see that the signals had gotten stronger and louder. And while bruises and contusions were still very visible on her face and arm, the woman's breathing didn't seem nearly as labored.

  Staggering slightly, Max moved around the bed and toward the door. One down, one to go, he thought.

  Room 126 was two rooms down, and Max again checked the charts to be certain he was in the correct place. "Shania Janet Cameron." This was the right room, but the door to this one was already open.

  Max stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room was much like the other had been, except that there was a bag and some personal effects near a bedside chair. The girl in the bed was less externally bruised than the Dobbs woman had been, but Max could sense that her internal traumas were far worse.

  She appeared to be sixteen or so, about the age Liz had been when he'd saved her at the Crashdown. He took her hand, as he had done with Denise Dobbs, and began sending his energy outward, his own limb the conduit.

  As his mind reached out to link with the girl's, Max was surprised to find himself seeing not flashes of her life, but instead seeing himself inserted into some kind of static, stable mental setting. He was in a grand cathedral or temple of some sort, wooden pews stretching out nearly to infinity in front of him and behind him. Ornate stained-glass windows arced high above, raining multicolored light down on him as if he were in a kaleidoscope.