Hybrid Zone Recognition

by C. E. Glines

  “We could do that,” she said slowly. “But I think it’s too late.”

  I snapped my eyes back to the rear view mirror. The SUV was speeding up. Crud. What should I do? Speed up, slam on the brakes…remain calm as they passed us. Oh, well, that was anticlimactic. I checked my speed. The dial said eighty. They sure were in a hurry all of a sudden.

  “I guess they had somewhere to be,” I said quietly.

  “Maybe they got a call?” Miranda guessed.

  We watched silently as the SUV pulled further away from us. I was just about to chalk it up to coincidence when their brake lights came on. I let off the gas pedal.

  “Macy,” Miranda said.

  “I see’em.” They were stopping fast.

  “Macy!”

  “I know!” I shouted back at her.

  My tires squealed across the asphalt as I slammed on the brakes. The truck came to a stop about thirty feet away from the SUV.

  “Do we have any weapons?” Miranda asked.

  Once again, she had completely stunned me. “Weapons?” I asked, turning to look at her. “Are you kidding me? You won’t even step on a cock roach.”

  “They’re disgusting,” she groaned. “And stuff always squishes out when you smash’em.”

  We both shuddered. She was right.

  “Do Yoohoos and Mr. Goodbars count?” she asked, holding them up.

  “Unless Mr. Goodbar is the tire jack, I’m thinking no, but if they need a sugar fix, we got’em covered.”

  Idiot. She was a whiz at molecular biology, but the common things seemed to escape her sometimes. Perhaps we could hit them over the head with a Yoohoo and shove the candy bar in their mouth if they tried to scream. The ridiculousness of that thought caused me to smile in spite of the seriousness of the situation. But it quickly faded as I stared at the very real SUV in front of us.

  It had done one of those sideways turning stops that blocked the whole road. I’d only ever seen that in the movies. Staring at its black length stretched across the road, I knew there was no getting around it. I was also pretty sure driving really fast in reverse was a bad idea.

  “Why haven’t they got out yet?” Miranda asked.

  I glanced at her. Her face revealed the various scenarios she was playing out. It didn’t look like they were pleasant ones. That was probably why they hadn’t gotten out yet.

  “Intimidation,” I said confidently, turning my gaze back to the SUV.

  “Intimidation?”

  “Yeah, they think we’re scared poopless right now.”

  “They got that right,” she said, nodding vigorously.

  “Yep, I’d say they nailed it.” She wasn’t the only one with an imagination.

  I drummed my fingernails on the steering wheel. This was a situation I never thought I would find myself in. I didn’t know why, especially considering what I had been through lately. Sure, it was always a possibility, in some obscure, remote, most likely never way. One I’d never really entertained. All of my attackers had been unidentifiable somebodies somewhere off in the distance, but now, they were right here in front of me.

  “Here they come,” Miranda singsonged.

  For goodness sakes, I was a researcher. Now I was being cornered by tall, dark and packing? In the beam of my headlights, I was able to see a shoulder holster peeking out of his unbuttoned jacket that swung as he walked. Great. He was probably trained in all sorts of ways to kill me.

  My weapons training consisted of hit the beer bottle on the fence when I was ten. I didn’t have any training in survival or what to do if hemmed in by a SUV sporting baddies. All that stuff that, right now, seemed like a really good idea. Where were all my spy gadgets? They were new line items in my budget that was where they were.

  As focused as I was on my internal debate, I hadn’t realized he had reached the truck. The tap on the window clued me in.

  With my first close up look at him, I could not keep the smile off my face. As my eyes swept his form, I came to the conclusion that I was being stalked by Men in Black. He had the suit, the glasses, the chiseled jaw...

  I rolled my window down and, with what I hoped was a totally used to dealing with this kind of thing voice, asked, “Do you need directions?”

  He didn’t even crack a smile. But he did look me in the eye…maybe. Hard to tell with the sunglasses on…at two in the morning.

  “We need you to come with us, Dr. Greer,” he spoke in a rich, even voice.

  That was me. For better or worse, they knew who I was. Leaning across the open window, I propped my chin in my hand, partially concealing my smile. I didn’t expect him to fill in the blank, but I asked anyway. “Why would I come with you, Mr. …?”

  “Please get out of the vehicle, Ma’am.”

  Just as I suspected, we weren’t exchanging names.

  I took a breath and righted myself. Putting both hands back on the wheel, I stared out the front window. “Well, Mir, it looks like I’m getting out of the vehicle.”

  When she didn’t respond in her usual rapid fire mode, I turned to look at her. She was sort of sunk down in her seat as far away from my side as she could get. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the Goon at my window and the black SUV. Maybe she was in shock.

  “Miranda, you ok?” My query was met with silence. “Miranda,” I said sharply.

  It seemed like her eyes were in slow motion as they slid to me. “Where is my tall, dark, and delicious?”

  Really? She was thinking about possible mates at a time like this? Unbelievable. My concern was replaced by anger at the accusation in her voice.

  “Are you accusing me of hogging the Goons?” I asked coldly.

  She straightened in her chair, seeming to puff up at the same time—like a chicken or something.

  “I know how this goes. The leading lady is always the one who ends up with the hot guy.”

  Yep, she was thinking about it.

  “Miranda, need I remind you of all the times I have made this trip alone because you made other plans involving Goon like beings. I think you are quite capable of getting your own Goon!”

  As if on cue, a door to the SUV opened and out stepped Goon Number Two. We watched in silence as he walked to the back of the SUV. At least the momentary interruption served to quell our anger, which I suspected was born out of the stress we were currently enduring.

  “He’s back,” Miranda whispered, pointing at the window.

  I turned back to the window. Goon Number One was still at eye level with me and had one hand gripping the door handle and the other resting on top of the truck. How tall was this guy? Of course, I was only five foot three so almost everyone was tall to me.

  “I’m going to have to insist that you get out of the vehicle, Ma’am,” he said a little more forcibly.

  “Sticking to the script, I see,” I told him.

  Facing Miranda once again, I started to speak when she beat me to it.

  “No goodbyes, MG,” she spit out rapidly and held up her closed fist.

  I raised my eyebrow at her. “We do fist bumps now?”

  “It’s a new thing. I thought it’d make us look more tough in front of tall, dark and PUSHY!” she yelled as he opened the door.

  He ignored her outrage and responded with the requisite phrase. “Out of the vehicle now, please.”

  He was polite, if not original, for a kidnapper.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said quietly to Miranda while returning her fist bump. Most definitely I would. Probably.

  I climbed down from the truck, jumping the last foot or so to the ground. My truck was a jacked up 4x4 with oversized tires. Miranda has repeatedly told me that it was too big for me and that I needed to downsize. But I worked hard for this truck. I loved my truck.

  He obviously didn’t know this. He had already started walking away while ordering, “This way, Ma’am.”

  I crossed my arms and stared at his retreating form. Did he think I was an idiot? There was clearly only one way
to the SUV. Obviously, it was that way.

  When he realized I wasn’t following, he pivoted and raised an eyebrow at me. Apparently, I didn’t have the market cornered on eyebrow raises. “What about my truck?” I could tell by his hesitation that he was not expecting that question.

  “The truck?” he asked in confusion.

  “Yeah, the truck,” I repeated mockingly. “What is going to happen to my truck?”

  “My partner,” he said, motioning towards Goon Number Two, “will see to the return of your truck and associate.”

  “How convenient,” I said dryly.

  “We plan it that way,” he said and resumed his march to the SUV.

  Goon Number Two and I started walking to our respective destinations, trading places as we went. I noticed he had latte colored skin as he crossed through the headlight beams. I wondered if that meant he had the light brown eyes that were so often paired with that color skin. But even if he did, being pretty did not earn him a pass to drive my truck.

  My glare followed him as I paused and watched him climb behind the wheel. Shifting my gaze sideways to Miranda, I gasped in disbelief. She was grinning from ear to ear.

  That girl was a hopeless romantic. She’d probably already cooked up any number of romantic scenarios to enact. Goon Number Two didn’t know what he was in for. They’d probably be engaged before they hit Houston.

  I looked back at the SUV and the Goon waiting by the open door. What else could I do? By my calculations, running in Louisiana at night would be just as dangerous as getting in the SUV. I figured they wanted me alive, didn’t know about unharmed.

  He must have sensed my hesitation. Stepping away from the door, he looked prepared to take off.

  “I’m not running,” I said. I could at least spare myself the humiliation of being chased down.

  Sighing more loudly than I intended, I let my shoulders slump forward and walked over to the SUV. He held the door open for me, but I shunned his reach for my elbow. This vehicle wasn’t any taller than my truck, and I climbed into it unassisted all the time.

  Once inside, he made me move over to the middle seat next to another Goon already in position. Then he climbed in beside me, taking up all the free space.

  In the front of the SUV, there were two more Goons dressed exactly the same as the others. “Do they clone you guys?” I asked jokingly. Nobody laughed. Given what I did for a living, it probably wasn’t that funny. They could be clones or more.

  After a few minutes of driving in silence, it became clear to me that no one was going to volunteer any information. We were going to have to do this the old fashioned way.

  I angled myself to face my Goon. Since he’d been the one to fetch me, I’d designated him as mine. “Who’s we?” I asked.

  I got the eyebrow raise again. It was kind of funny watching the one eyebrow ascend above the sunglasses. I couldn’t help smiling as I explained my question further. “You said we plan it that way. Who’s we?”

  “All of your questions will be addressed by the Director.”

  At least, he’d dropped the Ma’am. “We is the Director?” I teased. He didn’t find my comment amusing. Tough Crowd.

  “And that would be Director of…?” I drew out the of for emphasis, but he didn’t answer. “When do I get to meet the Director?”

  Still no response. I guess I had gotten all I was going to get on that, so I changed the subject of my questions. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

  The only sound was the whistling of the wind against the SUV. The old fashioned way was annoying.

  “How about, when will we get there?” I tried again.

  Nada. Were these guys breathing? I looked at Goon Number One’s abdomen. His jacket was still unbuttoned and underneath was a nicely fitted white t-shirt. Yep, breathing.

  He caught me looking, and I innocently batted my eyelashes at him, but I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. I was trying to stop smiling, but the harder I tried not to, the stronger the urge became.

  I sat back between the Goons again, laying my head against the back of the seat until I could stop grinning like an idiot. There really wasn’t anything funny about the situation.

  “Sure would be nice to know why you’ve kidnapped me,” I said to the quiet interior of the SUV.

  They didn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that I was speaking. They were going to sit here and ignore me. They really were.

  I could make it difficult for them, but they could probably make it difficult for me too. I was betting there difficult would be a lot worse than mine.

  Using my hands to cover a huge yawn, I squeezed my eyes shut. The driving combined with the ebbing adrenaline was starting to make it hard for me to keep them open. I hadn’t slept since five this morning. Counting backwards, I calculated I’d been awake for twenty one hours. It was definitely time for a nap. Lucky for me, I had my own personal Goon snuggly, and I was going to use it.

  I laid my head against my Goon’s shoulder. He smelled like a bonfire and fruit, an odd combination on a man. Turning my head slightly, I pressed my nose into his bicep and took a deep whiff. Maybe it was his fabric softener. I’d never seen one labeled backyard bbq with grilled fruit, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

  I could feel him looking down at me. He probably even had that eyebrow raised. That made me grin again, and I pressed my face tighter against his arm to hide it. If he objected, he never said a word.

  As I waited for sleep to overtake me, I revisited the events of my day. Assuming that Miranda didn’t become too distracted to store it properly, I had obtained the last sample I needed. The one official reason I was still on the job. It would take me a little while to complete the analysis, but then what?

  Did I trust the HCF enough to hand over my report? Not currently. There would be trouble either way. Turning it in was probably the safest choice for me. But, if I did turn it in, would I just leave? How would I explain that to Kenny and the rest of the group? Or to myself? That would leave no one standing between the hybrids and the government. What would happen to them then?

  There had to be a way out of this mess that didn’t involve manipulation or annihilation of the hybrids or rebellion against the government. I just couldn’t see it yet. Depending on what these people wanted from me, I might not have to worry about it at all.

  My pillow shifted further away, and I leaned in closer, claiming the space he’d given up. He’d just failed if he was trying to get away. That was ironic. Shouldn’t I be the one trying to get away?

  I covered another yawn and curled my legs beside me on the seat. Leaning more heavily against my Goon, I wrapped my arms around his arm and pulled it towards me. He resisted briefly before he let me adjust him. That was better. Now maybe I wouldn’t wake up with a knot in my neck.

  Well, here was hoping I didn’t drool.

  CHAPTER 4

  IT WAS DAYLIGHT WHEN I woke up, and I felt more tired than I had before I’d slept. I hated when that happened. But not as much as I hated my body informing me that I hadn’t moved while I’d slept. I couldn’t feel my legs at all.

  Gingerly, I moved them back to the floor and waited for the pins and needles to start. Unwrapping my arms from my bicep pillow, I sat up and began to roll my head from side to side. Neither of my captors seated on either side of me paid me much notice.

  Peering out the front window, I observed we were no longer on the interstate. I probably could have deduced that without seeing the road simply by all the bumping the SUV was doing.

  The smooth interstate had been replaced by a dirt road lined by very tall weeds on either side. I was summarily being tossed around, constantly rebounding off the nearest Clone—I’d updated their designations this morning, more scientific. All this movement was probably what woke me up.

  I didn’t often ride in the middle seat, but it didn’t take long to form my opinion. Riding in the middle was the worst. There were no places to hold on. I had to grip my Clone just to
stay in the seat. If I didn’t think he was emotionless, I would have sworn he was enjoying the steady jostling I was enduring. I certainly wasn’t, particularly not with the needle sensations throbbing every time my legs bounced into something.

  We fielded one long string of incredibly large ruts that slung me everywhere, including into his lap. He seemed truly startled that I was there.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said accusingly. “I’m not driving.”

  He didn’t say a word, just deposited me back in my seat, which was fine with me. It was where I was headed anyway.

  The ride smoothed out after that. The vehicle climbed onto a blacktop road right before we entered an airstrip, a private one by the looks of it. A sleek jet was parked at one end, and there didn’t seem to be any other vehicles around.

  I wondered if the current Clones were going with me or dumping me here to be ferried somewhere else. I found myself surprisingly not wanting to give up the little bit of familiarity I had gained with my Clone. Not like we had connected or anything. He hadn’t spoken to me since the night before, and even then it was the bare minimum.

  Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard them make a sound all night either. Maybe I had slept really soundly or maybe these guys didn’t talk the whole way there. That would require more discipline than I possessed. Maybe they weren’t communicating verbally, yet another interesting and frightening thought. I’d have to experiment with that later.

  The SUV pulled to a stop alongside the jet, and my Clone didn’t waste any time escorting me to the gangway. It appeared my Clone was the only one accompanying us because the SUV carrying the rest of them drove away as soon as we stepped onto the ramp.

  I found it strangely comforting that he was going, and odd that they thought it took an SUV full of Clones to accompany me to the airport. They either held the belief that I was tougher than I actually was, or they were expecting trouble. I kind of thought it had to be the latter.

  As I reached the top of the ramp, I paused and looked around. The swamps were gone, but that didn’t tell me much. In my estimation, we had driven about six hours. Six hours in any direction and still managed to end up in the middle of nowhere. For all I knew, they could have gone in circles the entire time. It didn’t look like Houston, but it could have been. Houston zoning was weird.