Hybrid Zone Recognition

by C. E. Glines

  “Who do you think is behind the changes at the Colony?” I asked Miranda.

  She stopped typing and looked up at the ceiling. After a moment, she said, “Someone who’s after something.”

  I pursed my lips in concentration. “They are definitely after something,” I agreed.

  “Who do you think it is?” Miranda asked.

  I thought about my boss. It certainly wasn’t him. But there was someone or somebodies up there calling the shots. Someone who was intent on seeing their plans carried out. I could see things going really bad really fast if they felt like they were losing control of the situation. And if they got wind of Kenny’s covert ops…

  “I know it’s not Mr. Cain. It’s got to be someone higher up. Who? I don’t know. But I don’t like the changes being implemented. It feels like a setup for something bigger. And, I don’t like where they seem to be aiming towards in relation to the hybrids yet to come.”

  We grew silent as our thoughts consumed us. It seemed the world was right on the edge of disaster and didn’t even know it. What happened if we didn’t stop it in time or couldn’t stop it at all?

  “We’re too young to be deciding the fate of the world, you know,” Miranda sighed heavily.

  “Probably,” I agreed, smiling at how our thoughts had mirrored one another’s.

  “You haven’t even gotten your wisdom teeth in yet.”

  My smile quickly faded. “I don’t have any wisdom teeth,” I sternly reminded her, even though she knew full well that I didn’t.

  “Even worse,” she said dismissively. She picked up her fork and began tapping it gently against her plate. “It could be that we might need to make some decisions soon.”

  I looked steadily at her. “It could be,” I nodded.

  “Might be dangerous,” she warned.

  “When has it not been?”

  “We might have to go on the lam.”

  As she was completely serious, I swallowed the laugh that suddenly threatened to escape. “I’m a pretty good runner.”

  “Let’s hope so,” she whispered and set her fork neatly on her plate.

  If I was being honest with myself, I had already decided some things. Like research no longer being my number one reason for staying. Now, it was to act as a barrier between the hybrids and the government. I readily admitted one hundred and fifteen pounds wasn’t much of a barrier, but what I lacked in mass, I made up for with my brain.

  Originally, I thought that if I could give the government the answers they were looking for, then maybe I could avoid a hybrid rebellion and all the subsequent trouble that would cause. Problem now was, I didn’t know if I wanted to hand over my work to them.

  I was still considering going directly to the military. I still had some contacts there from previous projects. I wasn’t sure how they would react to this bombshell, but if it got much worse, I’d have no choice but to approach them.

  I thought the whole project would have been better off in their hands, anyway. At least with the military, there would have been a secure command structure and no lack of willing participants. I just had to work out how to bring them in without starting a civil war and without leaving the hybrids to fend for themselves against the government.

  I sighed at the responsibilities weighing on me. “The negatives associated with this job sure are starting to pile up. It’s a good thing they pay me so well.”

  “They don’t pay you at all,” she answered without looking up from her computer screen.

  She never let me pretend for one second that I was the highly paid scientist. “Thanks for shattering the dream.”

  “Just keeping it real.”

  Her eyes were starting to take on that glazed look she got while working on the computer. Pretty soon, I’d be able to perform a complete tap routine right in front of her, and she wouldn’t even notice. Assuming, of course, that I could tap dance.

  Scooping up our plates, I headed back to the sink and left her in her spreadsheet world.

  Why was everything in life so messy? Cooking was messy. Managing relationships was messy. My job was definitely messy. Playing backup parent to basically a whole generation of kids who were losing their parents was beyond messy.

  To be fair, most of the kids were really great, and I didn’t mind helping where I could. But they had real issues, and I was no teenage expert. I barely made it through myself, and I didn’t have super speed, or vision, or anything. Except maybe my curiosity. And everyone knew what happened to that cat.

  No, I didn’t have a good feeling about where all this was headed or the part I was playing in it. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was going to be right in the middle of it when all hell broke loose. I didn’t count myself as a psychic, but I could read the warning signs. Seeing as how they were seemingly waving at me like some big red glowing beacon, they were hard to miss.

  CHAPTER 3

  I’D FINALLY MANAGED TO CONVINCE Miranda that my latest plan to get Kenny’s DNA was great, fool proof even. She’d said that sounded about right considering who was in charge. At which point, I enlightened her as to who was the greater fool, the leader or the follower. We concluded that we were both fools for science and left it at that.

  My plan had us stalking Kenny around the Colony campus. He knew what we were doing, but we had a serious weapon on our side this time, teenage male hormones. I knew if we waited long enough, his attention would be wholly focused elsewhere. Then, I could nab his DNA. It was just a matter of time.

  Weeks, as it turned out. He had more self-control than I had given him credit for, or he had hiding spots we didn’t know about. He had managed to slip by us a time or two. I blamed this entirely on lack of proper nutritional support from Miranda.

  She had me so hopped up on junk food that I was beginning to live in a hazy sort of fog. I had no idea where she was stashing the stuff. She pulled it out of every conceivable pocket or pouch. I had just about determined that if she shoved another cellophane wrapped, gooey, cream filled, imitation chocolate something or another at me again when I said I was hungry, I was going to shoot her instead of Kenny.

  After more than one empty goose chase, I gave up trailing him and decided that a zone offense might be more productive. Early one morning before anyone was up, I stationed us on the roof of a maintenance building that overlooked some fairly secluded spots. For cover, I used the exhaust fans that dotted the roof here and there.

  Our moment arrived when Kenny led his lady love, Crystal, to a spot directly down and across from us. I waited until he gave his full attention to Crystal, and then I grabbed my gun and carefully stepped out from behind the exhaust column.

  It was the perfect setup. I had Kenny in my sights, and I’d modified the gun to have a spring action return. No more cutting the fishing line. Then Miranda decided to liven things up.

  She peeked over the edge of the roof and yelled, “Smile!” at Kenny—something that was not part of the plan—and then ducked back into hiding. When Kenny spun around, understandably startled, all he saw was me standing there with my gun pointed at him.

  In one motion, he stepped in front of Crystal, abruptly lifted his head, and fired thick mucousy goo from these frilly gill things that popped out of the sides of his neck.

  Why was it always me? Who knew he could spit goo? And with such accuracy and speed. I was so shocked that I didn’t even attempt to use my gun. I’ll admit it, when the goo hit, I freaked a little.

  Miranda silently regarded my goo splattered face for exactly two seconds before dissolving into hysterical laughter. It was always nice to have friends you could count on.

  “Nice one, Kenny,” she choked out as she lay back on the roof with both hands pressed to her stomach.

  Congratulating Kenny? Oh, that was lovely. I couldn’t believe she had forsaken me in my time of need. The goo could have been acidic and burnt my face off or some sort of neurotoxin that could have induced paralysis causing me to fall off the roof. I had to give he
r the benefit of the doubt that, in her two second delay, she had considered and discarded those possibilities. But even so, not cool.

  “Little help here, please,” I demanded while watching her roll from side to side.

  She didn’t stop laughing, but she did sit up and start fishing around in my duffle.

  The goo smelt terrible, like burnt beans. I was working hard to overcome my gag reflex. I kept repeating to myself that it was only molecules arranged in specific configurations. That it might have been, but I just wanted to do one of those really girly screams accompanied repeatedly by, “Get it off!” The fact that I could feel it sliding down my face didn’t help.

  I bent forward at the waist, hoping it would fall off me entirely. “Remind me again why I signed up for this,” I said.

  “You won the lottery,” Miranda replied and handed me a plastic storage tube.

  “Not the help I was looking for, but thanks.” I had almost forgotten about securing the sample, but, as gross as this was, I still had a job to do. “Eww! I think some got in my mouth,” I squealed.

  Miranda handed me an open water bottle, and I very vigorously swished and spit while she snickered. I was tempted to aim at her as I repeated the process but refrained from doing so. Only because I still needed her sane for my personal cleanup efforts. That would never happen if she was suddenly wearing the slime. She’d probably run off the roof or strip naked in an effort to rid herself of the putrid stuff. I didn’t want to witness either of those options.

  “I am never playing the lottery again,” I vowed, taking the swab from her outstretched hand. Carefully, I stroked some of the goo into the tube. “They couldn’t pay me enough.”

  “They aren’t paying you anything,” she reminded me.

  I sealed the tube and my ire at her comment. There had yet to exist the time when she did not take the opportunity to remind me of my current undercompensated status.

  “Then definitely never again,” I stated with conviction, and I meant it too. I never wanted to find myself in this situation again. “This is disgusting,” I moaned and spit again.

  “Are you referring to wearing the goop or tasting it?” Miranda asked, eyeing me warily as another chunk broke away and splattered against the pebbled roof.

  “I’ve got to go with both A and B.”

  “Good call,” she agreed.

  Straightening, I brushed away another large clump headed straight for my right eye. The sheer volume Kenny had been able to dish out was impressive and quite effective for startling his opponent. It was too bad that, on this occasion, his opponent was me.

  I slung the dripping goo from my hand and held the tube up to the security light on the roof. Finally, I had in my hand, the somewhat revolting, but coveted sample.

  “What species could this gunk possibly be from?” I wondered aloud.

  “I’m thinking dinosaur. Remember the one from that dinosaur movie that shot the gunk into that guy’s face before it ate him.”

  Miranda loved movies. All kinds of movies. Me, not so much. I tended to sit and think about all the things I could or should be doing while the movie was playing. By definition, that didn’t create a very relaxing pastime for me. But, if food was included as part of the package, I could be persuaded. Everyone had to eat.

  “That’s real scientific, Mir,” I said and handed her the tube.

  “You do employ me for my skills.”

  “And your baby wipes.” I wiggled the fingers of my extended hand for emphasis.

  She grunted in agreement as she tossed the box to me. “They are one of life’s essentials.”

  No argument from me there. It was amazing all the things one could use baby wipes for that didn’t involve a baby.

  Miranda labeled the tube and tucked it away while I scrubbed furiously at my face. I went through ten wipes before I was satisfied there was nothing but face on my face. Thank goodness my cap had protected my hair.

  I tossed the last wipe and my cap into the trash bag she produced and surveyed the scene below us. The Colony was very quiet tonight.

  “You ready to head out?” she asked.

  We’d been here six weeks this time. The goo was the last sample I needed. It was bagged, tagged and ready to go. Consequently, so was I.

  “Yep. Let’s hit it.”

  “What, no victory dance?”

  “Nah, I left my dancing shoes back in Houston. And, I don’t trust Kenny. I want to make this my sixth and final attempt to get his DNA.” I left unspoken the angst I was feeling about the conclusion of our work here and what that meant, but she read my mood anyway.

  “Gottcha. I always preferred victory dinners to dances anyway.”

  Now she was speaking my language.

  We packed the rest of our gear and headed to the ground below. Halfway down the stairs, I realized that I’d left my phone on the roof.

  “Hey Miranda, I left my phone.”

  “You want me to wait,” she called from below.

  “No, I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  I started up again, taking the steps two at a time. When I reached the door, I pushed it open slowly. Walking to the edge of the roof, I stood and looked over the Colony grounds. I couldn’t help but feel bittersweet. I had gotten what I came for, but at what price?

  My phone rang, and I walked over and scooped it up. It was Miranda. “Yeah?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you found your phone. The protesters are getting a little crazy. You might want to hurry up.”

  “I thought they were already crazy.”

  “Just get your butt down here,” she said and hung up.

  I put the phone in my pocket. Two more teens filled the spot that Kenny and Crystal had recently vacated. Yep, third generation coming soon.

  With a heavy heart, I left the roof and aimed towards the truck. Choices and consequences was the name of the tune that repeatedly played through my mind. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to change the channel any time soon. It was going to make for a long six hours back to Houston.

  Houston, Texas was the location the government had chosen for my lab. Miranda hadn’t been kidding when she said I wasn’t paid. Officially, the government didn’t pay me. I was paid a salary by the University of Houston where I was required to speak as part of a guest lecturer series sponsored by a special grant from the government. See how that worked?

  The government did arrange for the lab itself and all the supplies I needed. The hoops I had to jump through just to open the door were a bit overdone I thought. But it kept the HCF from having a molecular geneticist on their payroll and me out of prison for conducting illegal research. So, I guess it worked out alright.

  The trip back to Houston was usually uneventful. The highlights being our pit stops and our joy if we missed any traffic on the freeway. Once you’ve been detoured to some podunk town where your vehicle’s GPS did not work, and the workers forgot to post the rest of the detour signs, a straight shot to Houston was something to celebrate.

  So far, tonight’s trip seemed to be taking the uneventful route which, as feared, left lots of time for thinking. As a consequence, it took me a while to figure out that we were being followed.

  “Hey Miranda, don’t turn around, but do you see the black SUV about a hundred yards behind us?”

  She shifted in her seat and pulled her visor down like she was adjusting her makeup in the mirror. As if. She was one of those natural beauties. Perfect skin, perfect hair, blah, blah, blah. Everywhere she was dark, I was light. I wasn’t bad to look at. But she looked exotic, and I looked like blonde haired, blue eyed, American apple pie.

  “How far is a hundred yards?” she said, still peering at the mirror and totally missing the look of incredulity on my face.

  “Are you serious? Think football field,” I told her.

  “Not helping, but do you mean the only vehicle on the road besides us for like for-ev-er?”

  She’d punctuated each syllable of forever clearly in an attempt to cov
er her yardage incompetency. I knew she’d grown up in the Northwest, but how could she not know how long a football field was? They had football up there. Being that we had more pressing issues to pursue, I chose to let her poor sports education slide for the moment.

  “That would be the one. It’s been following us since at least Baton Rouge.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully.

  She was doubting me? After she’d tortured me by making me watch every episode of that ridiculous detective show, with her only lure being her attempts to learn Chinese cooking? That was one mistake I’d never make again.

  “Are you doubting me? Who else could they be following? As you so astutely pointed out, we are the only ones on the road, and it’s two in the morning.”

  “This sounds like one of those spy novels.”

  I honestly didn’t know where she found the time for all her extracurricular activities.

  She lowered her voice and in true movie trailer fashion began her intro. “There were two of them. At night, travelling through the wilds of Louisiana. When the darkened SUV—”

  “The wilds of Louisiana?” I interrupted. “Don’t you mean swamps or uninhabited lands? How about mosquito infested woods? And thanks for comforting me in my distress.”

  She flipped her visor back up and nonchalantly said, “It’s the only major freeway from Baton Rouge to Houston. I’m sure they have a legitimate reason for being here at this time of night, other than following us.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like we’re carrying cargo filled with mutant DNA that the general public thinks doesn’t exist anymore.” I looked over at her as I said it.

  “There is that,” she said, pursing her lips. It was the look she always got when she was thinking.

  “You’ve got that look again.”

  “What look?”

  “Your thinking look. That’s gonna make wrinkles when you’re older.” I snuck a quick look in the rear view mirror. “I think that we should pull over somewhere and see if they follow.”