Separation

by J. S. Frankel

  The computer’s clock read almost four in the morning. Their flight was leaving at eight-thirty, and they had to get out as soon as possible. Still, he wouldn’t leave without Anastasia.

  Fingers tired from typing, Harry leaned back and massaged his shoulders. “I think this is the answer.”

  He went to the door and knocked.

  One of the guards opened up. Huge, with a head like a bull’s and a body like a pro wrestler’s, he blinked when Harry asked for another memory stick. “Why do you want this thing?”

  “To save the information,” Harry replied. “So show a little initiative and get me one.”

  It seemed to take a long time for the information to filter through the other hybrid’s consciousness. Finally, he nodded and turned away. The door closed. “Now, we wait,” Harry said.

  Istvan, who’d been sitting on the floor the entire time and not uttering a word, shook his head. “Why do you help this crazy man? You will give him the formula?”

  “Not the one he wants,” Harry whispered, and placed the second memory stick he’d used to save the information on the table in plain sight. To mark it, he used a smear of blood on the surface.

  A slow smile spread across the pig-man’s face. He understood.

  Nothing to do but to wait... but then a scratching sound came at the window. Curious, Harry walked over. Leo perched on the ledge. “I follow you here,” he said in a soft voice.

  How in the hell had he been able to sneak past the guards? “Didn’t anyone see you?”

  “They look on ground, but they no look under. Wait, I get you out.” He then jumped off the ledge.

  A few seconds later, though, the sound of tunneling got his attention. The sound grew louder, and then a faint tapping sound came from under the floorboards a foot away from where Harry stood. He carefully lifted it up and the furry face of Leo appeared. “I tell you I can do this. This hole is big enough for all to go.”

  It was big enough, but there was no escaping, not yet. Thinking fast, Harry ordered, “Take Istvan out of here. Get to the airport. Leave without us if you have to, but get going.”

  Leo nodded and disappeared down the hole. Istvan went to the opening, but turned back. “Harry, you must come.”

  “I can’t.” No way would he leave his wife behind.

  Once they’d gone, he waited ten minutes and then banged on the door. “Hey, we got a rat control problem here!”

  The same guard who’d gotten the memory stick message came on the run and didn’t bother to look anywhere but at the hole in the ground. His carelessness allowed Harry to clobber him. “Moron.”

  Snatching up the machine gun, Harry studied the bolt action for a moment and mentally geared up. Violence was so not his thing, but he knew Allenby wouldn’t be afraid to use it. Running downstairs, he found the door to the room open and a cockroach leering at his wife. “Hey,” he said.

  Mr. Cockroach turned around, a look of shock on his ugly face. The shock gave way to surprise when Harry slammed him on the forehead with the butt end of the machine gun and the roach’s eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he slithered to the floor.

  “Time to go,” Anastasia said.

  It was definitely time to go, and they fled up the stairs, Harry in the lead. As they ran out of the house, they heard a roar behind them. Allenby had discovered their escape and was screaming at his guards to stop them. Bullets whizzed over their heads and they ran for their lives, soon finding shelter in the forest. The early morning chill was noticeable, but Harry didn’t pay any attention to it.

  “Hey, we made it,” Anastasia remarked, panting slightly. “And I didn’t have to barf for a change.”

  “How fast...”

  Harry started to ask how long her pregnancy was going to last, and then stopped. This was something no one had ever encountered before. Cats’ pregnancies usually lasted around two months, but Anastasia was half human and...

  She pinched his arm. “Let’s get going.”

  Right, escape first and think about the gestation period later. They made their way across the countryside, but had to stop and rest every so often. “I wish we had some transportation,” he said.

  “Keep walking,” Anastasia motioned with her hand and pointed in the direction of where they had to go.

  It seemed like the best idea, and they made their way through the countryside, hugging the land and keeping watch for any of Allenby’s goon squad. Sniffing the air, Harry caught the scent of flowers, animal droppings, but no man-made animal smells surfaced.

  They continued on, and just as fatigue set in, they caught a lucky break. Harry found an open car with keys dangling from the ignition. “Start her up,” said Anastasia as she squeezed into the passenger seat.

  He turned the key, the engine caught, and Harry made for the airport as fast as possible. By the time he got there, the sky had gotten a lot lighter, and he estimated it was around eight in the morning.

  At the edge of the airport, they saw a familiar figure skulking around on all fours. It was Leo, and he perked up once he saw them and scampered over. “It is good to see you,” he said. “We have plane waiting. Follow me.”

  He’d tunneled under the fence and made a passageway large enough for them to squeeze through. Emerging on the other side, they stood at the edge of the tarmac. “Over there,” Leo pointed.

  A small plane was taxiing down runway number seven, and it stopped a hundred meters away. “Looks like our ride’s here,” Anastasia remarked.

  The hatchway swung open and the figure who popped his head out was none other than Agent Overton. He clutched his injured shoulder, and his face looked as though he’d been trampled by a herd of crazed elephants, but he waved, anyway and yelled, “Get on! The ride’s leaving!”

  It didn’t take much more than that to spur the three to action. Harry scooped up Leo in his arms while Anastasia took the lead and boarded first. A few of the airport security and maintenance staff stopped to stare, but Harry paid them no mind as he raced up the stairs and into the plane. Once there, Overton closed the hatch.

  “Time to go,” he said as he went forward to talk to the pilot. “Grab a seat.”

  Harry placed Leo in a seat where the mole-man promptly fell asleep. Taking a good look at him, he thought he seemed to have gotten smaller and his animal features stood out more prominently.

  Devolution was beginning, and now it became a matter of doing the math in order to figure out how long he had before he devolved completely. In some cases, the subjects retained their ability to speak. Anastasia had. Harry wasn’t so sure about the others.

  In the far seat, Istvan lay sleeping and snoring, the remains of an empty bag of sausages beside him. Weary beyond belief, yet relieved, Harry collapsed into his own spot. Anastasia nestled beside him and hung on as the plane gathered speed, raced down the runway and took off toward home—and freedom.

  Overton returned long enough to ask them how they were. “Tired, hungry, and shot at, not in that order,” Harry answered. “How’s your shoulder?”

  A sour look greeted his question. “I’ll make it. You’re lucky Jason and Maze were still monitoring your transponders. We tried sending a message, but your computer wasn’t working.”

  Harry attempted an explanation, but exhaustion had already set in and he settled for, “It’s complicated.”

  Overton gave a brief nod. “Life is complicated, kid.”

  Kid... he’s getting his cues from Farrell. A brief sense of guilt hit Harry hard in the feels department and he vowed to visit his mentor once they returned. He wanted to say “Yeah, it is, and I’m not a kid,” but nothing came out. He did manage to nod once.

  The gesture wasn’t lost on Overton who flashed a rare smile. “Well, settle back. We’ll have a debriefing once we return and the four of you get some rest.”

  He ambled over to another seat, awkwardly plopped down, and bowed his head. Soon, everyone but Harry was sleeping, and he turned his head to look out the window. Morning had broke
n and the plane ride was smooth. It felt good to be sitting down instead of being shot at... but he also knew his mission wasn’t over.

  Chapter Eight: Home and Off Again

  Once they returned, they got a rude shock. A group of reporters was waiting outside the hangar at JFK Airport. Anastasia gazed out at the assemblage. “How’d they get here?”

  Overton’s mouth twisted into a shape resembling an angry pretzel’s. “The Internet, what else,” he grumbled. “The news broke, and now everyone wants to get a gander at you. This would have to happen.”

  Harry decided to point out the obvious. “You conveniently left out the fact that it’s happening to us and not you.” He was pissed this man just didn’t get it. Doubtful anyone else would, either. “So, do we meet the press or bypass them?”

  “It’s your call.”

  Harry threw a quick glance at his wife who nodded back. “Let’s do this,” he said. “The public still isn’t sure about any of us.”

  As they emerged from the hangar, a row of reporters, perhaps twenty in all, waited with mikes and recorders ready. Cameras swung in Overton’s direction and he waved at Harry. “It’s your fifteen minutes.”

  “What’s going on?” called out one reporter. “We heard there was trouble over in France. Does the American public have anything to worry about?”

  They had plenty to worry about, but there didn’t seem to be any point in alarming them. Not used to speaking in public, Harry initially stammered out his answer, faltering, but Anastasia grabbed his hand, and he derived strength from her. “We went over to France on a fact-finding mission,” he began, locking gazes with the person who’d asked the question. “There was some trouble, but it’s all over now.”

  A convenient lie, and fortunately the reporter let it pass. Another one piped up with a question about the new arrivals. “How many of the transgenics are there? Are any more of them coming this way?”

  With his question, the dam broke and a flood of questions were shouted out, most of them wondering about an influx of transgenic refugees, where would they be housed, who’d look after them, and were these the kind of people Americans wanted? Curious airport maintenance staff looked on, listening in. Some of them wore looks of disgust, though.

  Somewhat dispirited by the reception, for a moment, he felt helpless. How could he provide any definitive answers? Even if he could, would anyone believe him? Luckily for him, Overton stepped up to the plate.

  “For the record, these two new arrivals,” he indicated Leo and Istvan who shifted uncomfortably in their positions, blinking in the light of the cameras, “are no threat to the American public. They are on our side, as are Mr. and Mrs. Goldman. That’s all.”

  Interview over, he shepherded them to a waiting car. Overton took the wheel while Harry, Anastasia, and the two other, smaller transgenic newcomers took the back seat. Once they’d driven off and gotten onto the highway, Anastasia leaned forward from her position and tapped the agent on the shoulder. “That was a great press conference,” she said. “Glad to hear it.”

  It was hard to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not, but Overton didn’t seem to take offense. “Just doing my job,” he grunted. “This is something we have to keep a low profile on.”

  Perhaps that was the standard company line, but Harry well understood the rationale. The American public was quick to anger, and he as well as Anastasia had already been chased a few times by mobs that would have been happy to see him skinned alive. “Where are we going now?”

  Overton swiveled his head around. “To the hospital, as you requested. You need to see Farrell, and that’s where we’re going. After that, we’re going to headquarters, and I’ll get the details there.”

  Speech delivered, he turned back and said nothing else until they arrived at the hospital. Harry entered, alone, and found a young, blonde woman standing at the bedside. Farrell didn’t look much different, but his eyes brightened. “Glad you made it back, kid.”

  For once, Harry didn’t mind being called kid. “Glad to be here.”

  “This is Lynn, my daughter.”

  She turned around, and to her credit, didn’t recoil or show any surprise. Around twenty years old, she had the same hatchet face and cold gray eyes of her father, but was far prettier. The coldness of her eyes, though, was offset by their redness and pouches. She probably hadn’t slept in days. “I just got in this morning,” she said. “You’re Harry, right? My father told me all about you.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Harry wondered about the relationship between father and daughter. He knew Farrell was divorced, but the older man had never gone into much detail about the family dynamics. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable and thought he was in the way. “I should leave you two alone. I’ll wait outside.”

  “No, stay,” she said as he turned to the door. “Please.”

  He came back and stood at the side of the bed to observe father and daughter holding hands. It appeared to be a reconciliation of sorts, along with being a final farewell. Once done, Lynn leaned over and kissed her father’s forehead. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  Going over to Harry, she whispered, “Can I talk to you outside?”

  He threw a glance at Farrell, who waved weakly at the door. “I’ll be here.”

  Outside, Lynn took a seat, hands in her lap. A flow of visitors as well as patients walked to and fro, some of them throwing surprised glances their way, but he ignored them and waited for her to speak. When she did, it was in a subdued voice. “I guess my father told you he and my mother split up.”

  “He did.” It wasn’t any of his business, but since she’d mentioned it...

  “I haven’t seen him in a long time,” she continued and this time a quiver of emotion, of regret, sounded. “But someone from the FBI contacted us. I thought I should see him. My mother... she’s not into reconciliation mode, if you know what I mean, but she arranged for me to come out here.”

  If there was a time for an awkward moment, this was it. Harry had watched his own father rot from cancer and witnessed his mother’s passage into eternity not long after his father had been buried. Now it was happening all over again, this time to someone else, and he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” he finally got out. “Your father’s a pretty decent guy. At least, he’s always been that way with me.”

  Lynn nodded and a few tears began to drizzle down the side of her face. “He and my mother never got along. They got divorced, we moved out to California, and that was that. But he’s my father,” she looked up, her face a study in anguish, “and I thought I should see him again, you know, before...”

  Her voice trailed off, and she buried her face in her hands. Harry sat beside her and hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder as she cried. Her body shook and she leaned against him. “I never thought I’d feel this way,” she sobbed. “He was never around much when I was a kid, and now... now he’s not going to be around much longer.”

  She continued to weep. A voice called out and Harry looked up in time to see Anastasia pad her way over to kneel in front of Lynn. “Hey,” she said in a soft voice and Lynn gazed at her.

  “You’re his wife?”

  Anastasia nodded. “Yeah, we’re the furries. And you can call me Anastasia.”

  Lynn sniffled. “Thanks, I will.”

  “He’s a good person and he’s been good to us,” Anastasia continued. “The only thing you can do is to be with him.”

  A note of determination sounded in Lynn’s voice. “That’s what I’m going to do. Thank you.”

  Lynn suddenly clung to her. Even though there wasn’t much of an age difference, it seemed as though they were a mother-daughter combo, with the human Lynn seeking comfort and maybe absolution—although none was needed—from her transgenic counterpart.

  In a moment of I can’t do anything to help, Harry felt totally useless and wished he had some means at his disposal to aid his mentor. Leaving his wife and Lynn outside, he re-entered the room and found Farrell sitti
ng up in bed. “Is my daughter still out there?”

  “She’s talking with my wife.” Harry stood rooted to the floor, licking his lips, and wondering if what he was thinking would be accepted. He’d had the idea for a while. “If you’re up to it, if you want, I could whip up some serum... it might boost your immune system, and—”

  “I’m going to say no,” Farrell said and his voice got stronger with each passing word. “I figured you’d get around to that sooner or later, but I’ve decided this is how it has to be. And you’ve got a debriefing with Overton. So go... I’ll be here.”

  With a nod and a promise to come in as soon as he could, Harry left. Lynn had stopped crying. “Thanks for coming by,” she said as she wiped her eyes. She seemed more composed now. “Are you two going to leave soon?”

  “Yes,” Anastasia spoke softly. “We have a little unfinished business in Spain. We’ll come back as soon as we can. Count on it.”

  A wan smile emerged from the younger girl. “We’ll be waiting. Thanks.”

  Back in the car, on their way to headquarters, Anastasia murmured to Harry, “You can help Farrell, can’t you?”

  She was talking about the formula. “He doesn’t want it. I’ll talk to him again when we get back. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

  Anastasia said nothing more and settled back. Along the way, Overton told them their home in the Catskills was off-limits until such time as it was deemed safe. “If that thing that found you out there got up there with no problem, then others may follow. We can’t take the chance.”

  It seemed to be the safest way. Once they arrived at headquarters, they found that Overton had arranged for them to be sequestered in the monitoring room and had four cots along with fresh changes of clothes brought in for all of them. Once the cots were in place, he called for a debriefing.