Dakota shook her head.
“I figured I’d piss off my parents and go the expected route,” Jer said.
“What do your parents think?” she asked.
Jer’s jaw locked. “I never got a chance to ask. My mother passed giving birth.”
“I’m sorry,” Dakota said.
He thought of the holographic memory-images of his father. He’d been there when it happened, when a monster swooped down from above and ripped the man to shreds. Jer had every right to be full of rage and hate. Yet, he realized there was no place for revenge, no way to track down the specific monster who ended what was left of his family. He believed there had to be a way to prevent more tragedies like the one that befell his family. There had to be a way to improve relations between monsters and humans.
4
The Ruins
The hydra-cab crossed back over the bridge and into the haze of North Brother Island. The labor-intensive work monsters were allowed left the island cloaked in smoke. No one really wanted that type of work; it aged one’s body faster than was natural. They mostly assembled parts for larger equipment, but never the whole objects. They might have learned how to reverse engineer and create them on their own if that happened.
The two exited the cab in front of the sculptures of lions that stood near the steps leading up to the clinic.
The building was marked by its symmetry and proportion, and looked like a brick box more than anything else, the exterior absent of architectural ornamentation.
On one of the walls somebody had spray-painted the phrase ‘Matthias Lives.’ The graffiti added a little color, and no one had bothered to scrub it off.
Jer and Dakota entered into the cluttered complex that was filled with a variety of monsters, humans, and Synths. The two of them passed by the others without stopping and pushed through a set of metal doors into a back corridor.
Dakota’s eyes scanned the broken medical devices that filled the halls. She’d noticed the mess before, but it seemed worse now. It was a clusterfuck of junk.
“Designed the interior myself,” Jer said. “Like it?”
“Love it,” she lied.
Jer smiled as he and Dakota continued on.
Over the years, an unsightly addition had been attached piece-by-piece to the rear of the building. The ancillary back wing of the clinic was anything but symmetrical and proportional. It was a hodgepodge of whatever materials could be fitted together.
“Since our funding was cut, we’ve subsisted largely on hand-me-downs, whatever we could find in the junkyards, and the benevolence of the Church,” Jer said cheerily. He took note of Dakota’s discomfort and careful steps as she did her best to avoid tripping. “We kind of lied to the Church. We told them that our sole purpose was to prove that Transhumana Monstrare is a disease. That the resulting behaviors are learned, rather than a curse from God.”
“Probably not the smartest thing to do,” Dakota replied.
“Yeah, they probably won’t be declaring me a saint anytime soon.”
They approached a set of locked metal double doors. Jer wheeled around to face Dakota.
“And now I must take my leave,” he said while clasping his fingers. “Quite a first day you’ve been having, hmm? You can find your way back to the nurses’ station, right?”
“Take your leave?” Dakota asked. “But I’m your intern.” Her brows came together in concern.
Jer shrugged. “How do I know you’re not a mole?”
Dakota’s eyes darted back and forth, as if she was surprised to even hear it.
“What do you mean—”
Jer cut her off with a shush.
“I don’t really think you’re a mole,” he said. “But you’re not ready for what’s behind door number one. It’ll be best if you take it one step at a time.”
Dakota sighed and found herself, stumbling back through the corridor the way they came in. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder, but Jer watched to make sure she was gone before he continued.
Once the young woman was out of sight, Jer punched in his code, waited for a retina scanner to do its work, and entered through the double doors.
Inside his immaculate secret laboratory, an old school rap song by A Tribe Called Quest pulsed softly. He walked over to a steel table and activated an old-school iPod. The outdated bit of tech began playing a conversation between him and Guy. Jer turned up the volume until it sounded as if the chat was actually taking place in the room. It seemed a silly thing to do, but it was necessary. GenAdvance was known to place ‘slurper’ listening devices in buildings, so it was better to be safe than sorry.
“I think the GenAdvance product is working wonderfully,” Guy said on the recorder.
“Agreed,” Jer’s recorded voice replied. “Even though it’s not a cure, it’s a good first step.”
At the far end of the lab was a metal door wedged between massive walls of sound-proof concrete and steel. Guy was crouching in the claustrophobic safe room behind it. This was the only area of the building that Guy felt secure enough to hold an actual conversation about substantive things with Jer. The room wasn’t much bigger than a janitor’s closet.
Jer entered and secured the door. He glanced at Guy. “So I’m going to say the obvious.” He began, speaking quietly. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to kill Jasper? He was their best scientist. If anyone could come up with a way to monetize his work, GenAdvance can.”
Guy whipped out a smoke and fired it up.
“Those will kill you,” Jer said.
“Not before GenAdvance does,” Guy said, engineering a smile.
Jer coughed as the smoke billowed.
Guy continued puffing away as he mumbled, “This whole thing, this situation…not good, not good at all.”
“Can you dispose of the cancer stick please? You’ve had your fix and I’ve just lost two years of my life.”
Guy stubbed out the cigarette.
“I think I know why he was killed,” Guy said. He pulled out a small, circular, GPS device from a rucksack at his feet.
A red light blinked in the center. The device emitted a low humming vibration.
“What the hell is that?” Jer asked.
“A little contraption I put together,” Guy answered. “It monitors for movement. I’ve placed them around the island to keep track of the Pharma thugs’ exercises.”
“How very paranoid of you,” Jer replied. “But what does it have to do with Jasper?”
“It was tripped last night at the old post office,” Guy explained.
Hairs tingled on the back of Jer’s neck. The old post office was the old friends’ dead drop for messages about GenAdvance’s research. “That could have been Jasper,” Jer hesitated, hoping that someone hadn’t already gotten to the secret message.
“Unlikely,” Guy replied. “I told him where the motion sensor was so he wouldn’t cause a false-positive.”
“You knew we were using the site?”
Guy nodded. “Meant to tell you too, but it slipped my mind. You know how my memory is.”
Jer looked at the device and then off to the side.
He pictured Jasper’s face and wished he could simply ask him what he’d done to make the boys at GenAdvance so afraid.
“Hey!” Guy said. “Don’t space out now. We need to figure this out.”
“Do we? What if it’s better that we leave it alone?”
“That doesn’t sound like the Jer I know.”
Jer glanced at his watch. “Ten seconds by the way.”
“Nine more than we’ll need.”
Jer looked up. “I’m going out tonight.”
“You can’t! It’s too dangerous.”
“Five seconds,” Jer replied, ignoring Guy.
Guy hung his head.
Jer hit a button on the wall, and the pressurized door hissed open. They pushed off the ground and drifted out into the lab as the iPod stopped playing their faux conversation.
The two of them paused, looking for something, signaling only with hand gestures.
Guy killed the music as Jer bent and put an ear to the wall. He heard something, a faint skittering.
Jer lunged for a metal filing cabinet, pushed it aside, and spotted a slug-like creature, a slurper. He scowled down at it. The slurper looked up and tried to dart away, but Jer’s shoe came down hard and smashed the creature. Its innards were full of tiny wires and circuits, which sparked as the thing sputtered and writhed.
Guy shuffled over and picked up the creature’s electronic corpse. He adjusted his glasses and leaned in close to see a small antenna fixed to the thing’s back.
He’d seen the things before. It was a GenAdvance listening device. He remembered.
“What happened to the good old days, when they just tapped your lines?” Jer asked.
“I’ve never really understood that sentiment,” Guy replied. “The good old days? What does that mean? You and I have both studied history, culture, and anthropology extensively. Throughout all of history, there never was a period when there wasn’t some form of turbulence.”
“It’s just an expression,” Jer replied. He tossed the listening device into a trash can. “I need to go.”
5
Out of the Mouth of Babes
Just as the sun set, Jer emerged from the Nurses’ Home and shuffled down the stone steps. From behind, he heard Dakota’s voice calling out for him.
“Dr. Bennington, Dr. Bennington! I understand and respect your need for privacy, but I was hoping I could at least get started on your latest work. Get up to speed, as it were.” Apparently, she’d been waiting in a nearby alcove.
Jer glanced at her as she caught up to him.
He didn’t reply at first, but also didn’t object to her accompanying him. The two of them continued walking to a parking lot surrounded by a battered fence.
“Well, would that be okay?” Dakota asked. “I’m sure it would be nice to have the load lightened.”
Jer trudged to a hydra-cab and placed his hand on the keypad. “First thing in the morning,” Jer said. The car opened.
“I’m gonna hold you to it. Five o’clock sharp!” she replied. “I’ll be outside your door.”
“What’d you get in Enthusiasm 101?” Jer asked.
“Highest score in the class,” she said, beaming.
“Figured,” Jer said, smiling, slipping into the hydra-car.
Dakota stared at the back of Jer’s car, noticing a bumper sticker that read ‘Psychiatry Kills.’
Ten minutes later, Jer’s hydra-car passed through the perimeter fence that cordoned off North Brother Island.
He pulled onto the bridge and kept his eyes straight ahead to avoid drawing suspicion. At the guard post, he flashed his ID.
The guards used long sticks with mirrors attached to the ends to check under the vehicle for stowaways.
Once the vehicle was cleared, the guards signaled the watch tower, and a series of security spikes dropped out of sight, allowing Jer to pass.
On the other side of the checkpoint, the hydra-cab zipped past the police precinct, the GenAdvance Headquarters building, and the overwrought, overpriced hi-tech condominiums that lined the shores of this island. These condos housed humans who oversaw the denizens of North Brother Island.
Once he was deep in Harbinger Heights, Jer’s hydra-cab turned into a crescent drop-off point in front of an upscale hotel.
Jer exited and strode past curious onlookers who were used to passengers arriving in limos and luxury cars.
He paid them little mind as he pushed through the revolving doors and entered the lobby. He kept his eyes forward and passed several elegantly-adorned high-society debutantes and well-dressed gentlemen who held signs that read, ‘Reelect Alderman Max Ray.’
Past the lobby was an opulent rotunda with a massive chandelier. The ceiling was meant to be a recreation of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel fresco painting of God reaching out a hand and touching Adam.
In the center of the space were recreations of sculptures from Parco dei Mostri, or the Park of the Monsters, also named Sacro Bosco or Sacred Grove in the province of Viterbo, northern Lazio, Italy. The winged Echidna statue had a split lower body that made her half-human and half-snake. She was positioned to face a winged dragon. The two statues were each frozen in a snarl, as if they were about to face off in an epic battle to the death.
On the other side of the ominous sculptures was a life-sized recreation of the Orcus mouth, with its eerie and vacant eye-holes and two-fanged mouth that served as an entrance.
Jer passed between the snake-woman and dragon statues and entered the Orcus mouth. The inside was dark and cold.
He saw a crowd of people at the end of the passageway. Only one voice was speaking, but the sound echoed off the walls, making it impossible to discern the words.
He emerged out of the passage and entered a grand ballroom full of Alderman Max Ray’s devotees. Jer stayed near the back of the ballroom, his arms folded across his chest.
As he listened, Max addressed an enraptured audience from a dais. The eyes of everyone in the crowd looked at Max as some kind of savior. They were enamored with his words, confident in his beliefs and presence. As Max spoke, Jer caught sight of a campaign poster emblazoned with the words, ‘One-Half To Three-Quarters For Safety.’
“I am proud to stand with you, friends, to stand with you in support of a Constitutional Amendment regarding the kindred blood laws proposed by GenAdvance,” he proclaimed. “The voices in the wilderness are saying that there’s no need for the new laws. I’ll say the same thing to you as I did to them: If they weren’t committing the crimes, there’d be no need for the laws!”
The audience cheered at this as Max caught sight of Jer and locked eyes with him for a moment, not daring to frown during this important event.
Once the rally was complete, Max shook hands with well-wishers and donors before he stalked through the room with two bodyguards in tow. He focused on Jer and marched toward him.
Jer smiled and held up one of Max’s campaign posters.
“Joseph Goebbels called,” Jer said. “He wants his speech back.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know who this Goebbels guy is, but I wrote that myself,” Max snapped.
“It was a joke, Max,” Jer said in disbelief. “Wow. Did you not take history in college?”
“Oh, a joke,” Max said. “Of course it was. I knew that.” The man feigned a laugh. “So what do you want? Why’re you here?”
Jer stared at him while one of Max’s bodyguards snatched the poster out of his hands. “I only need five minutes of your time.”
“Fine. Will you leave this event afterward?”
Jer nodded.
“Follow me.” The politician led the way.
A few minutes later, Max turned on the shower in his hotel suite to confuse audio surveillance. He stood and lit a cigarette while Jer sat on the edge of an uncomfortable chair.
“Monsters can’t support their families, Max,” Jer said. “They can’t even get jobs that pay for more than basic subs—”
“And how is that my fault?” Max asked, sucking in a long drag.
“I just thought maybe you’d understand,” Jer said. “You are the alderman, after all.”
Max exhaled, blowing smoke rings in the air.
“Why would you assume I’d understand?” Max asked. “Because I’m Black? Fuck that shit. You don’t get to use my race to make some metaphor. I remember the days of discrimination against everyone who looked like me. I do. But guess what? That’s over now. I don’t need your therapy. All I’ve ever needed was an opportunity to show the world what I’m made of. I’ve done that. Your friends…” Max paused and shot a side-glance at Jer. “…well, they’ve shown their true nature, or so it seems. Monsters may or may not deserve fair treatment, but it doesn’t matter. They’re dangerous all the same.”
Jer tilted his head to the side. “You know not what you say or see,
Max.”
Max laughs.
“Don’t be so fucking poetic. ‘You know not what you say or see.’ Lovely,” he sneered. “I see bodies on the ground, lifeless, and for no reason. I see innocents killed. I see monsters being the cause of that. Tell me how I’m wrong. I’ll wait.”
“You only see the clouds on the horizon, Max,” Jer replied. “You see lightning, and you hear thunder, but you don’t understand.”
“Damn, you’re fucking cryptic as hell,” Max said. “I thought we were actually going to get somewhere this time. Well, if the monsters decide to start up guerilla warfare again, GenAdvance is ready for it. It won’t be good for either side. The company loses assets, and the monsters lose lives. Fair exchange, if you ask me. Fuck ‘em all!”
“I truly hate you,” Jer muttered. “I mean that, by the way. Just in case my words might be misinterpreted as a joke.”
Max stubbed out his cigarette.
“Don’t get me wrong, Jer. I’m not tight with the fringe here. I mean, some of my best friends are monsters. But I’m not about to go easy on the very things that would never go easy on us.”
The two of them glared at each other with anger in their eyes. Jer recognized, however, that he needed Max if for no other reason than that he possessed one of the few things that mattered anymore: information. The only question was how he’d go about getting it from each him. Jer had never been one for subtlety. When he made his move, he aimed for the jugular.
“Who killed Arnold Jasper? Who the fuck killed him?”
Max groaned and toyed with his lighter.
“I knew you were going to do that,” he said. “I knew you’d bring that to me. That is nothing but a waterfall of shit that you’re selling as a milkshake. How is it that you think it’s ok to put that on me?”
“It happened in your jurisdiction,” Jer answered. “Or does your authority mean nothing?”
Max tensed up like he was about to rip Jer to shreds.
Monster M.D.: A Monster Girl Harem Mystery Thriller (Monster M.D. ) Page 6
