Fatal Moon

by L. E. Perry

  Luke gave him a thoughtful look. "Yes, you would. I think it really irritates you that I was the one in control as soon as I arrived. You have done a lot to maintain perfect control over everything in your life. Then I walk in, and not only can you not control me, I actually control you, which really annoys you." Luke was grinning, now.

  Jordan scoffed. “Anyone would find you offensive."

  Luke laughed quietly. "No, just those who pit themselves against me. I wish you would stop that."

  "Not gonna happen!" Jordan replied.

  Luke leaned toward Jordan, staring at him intensely. "What if I taught you how to do what I do, and you developed powers that equaled my own?"

  Jordan seemed to be leaning away slightly. "That's just bullshit," he said, but there was a trace of doubt in his voice.

  "We could make it your bullshit,” Luke answered with amusement. “Bullshit makes good earth, crops grow well in that medium."

  Carl's head had been turning back and forth between Luke and Jordan as if he were watching a tennis match. "I thought you were saying we need to make this quick?"

  Luke glanced at Carl. "I did. I am working on it. I told you this is important to me."

  "This isn't what I called you about," Carl replied with exasperation.

  Luke appeared to be surprised. "Oh, I am sorry, this is what I came here for. Well, quickly then, what is your problem?"

  "I think I can cure myself with a bone marrow transplant, but I’d need your help."

  Luke stood up and moved slowly to crouch in front of Carl, staring into his eyes with fascination. Jordan stood up quickly, and Carl motioned him to stay back.

  "How would that work?" Luke asked curiously.

  Carl answered, “That list you gave me; I reviewed the names, and none of these werewolf people on the list have blood type O-positive, as does 38 percent of the population. Right now, it looks like blood type is the most likely common denominator for people that don't survive." Carl started ticking off the next three sentences on his fingers. "That would be just about one in three that don't make it. The transfusion I got from Jordan made me healthy, temporarily. And you mentioned that those who don't make it can extend their lives by receiving blood."

  "Consuming blood is what I said," Luke corrected him with distaste, but he still looked fascinated.

  "Well, apparently receiving blood works as well,” Carl responded. “At least when it’s O-negative, like Jordan."

  Luke turned a warm, curious gaze toward Jordan. "Okay, go on."

  "If I get a bone marrow transplant from someone with O-negative blood, it can change my blood type,” Carl answered.

  Luke stood up and walked in a slow circle around the room as he thought about it. "Hmmm. And if this works for you, we will also be able to fix the accidents that otherwise fail to survive, or become blood-sucking vermin. That would be a good thing. It also might appease our masters."

  Jordan stepped in front of Luke so that Luke had to stop or turn to go around him. "You just execute these people who did nothing wrong but get bitten by an irresponsible freak? How do you live with yourself?"

  “Wait, what masters?” Carl tried to say, but Luke was talking over him, sounding a bit frustrated.

  "First of all, it is mercy,” Luke said forcefully, “because living like Carl has been living is too much suffering, and he is only in the early stages; it gets worse, and quickly. Becoming a vampire is even more horrific, and for more than just the diseased ones. But more importantly, it is the law, and if we do not abide by the law we will all be executed. That is what happened to nearly all the other hybrid races. We are down to lupanthrus, the werewolves, and piscanthrus, whom you know better as mermaids, and just a handful of other hybrid species. The bovanthrus – or minotaur, as you most likely know them – and so many others, they have all been exterminated. We will be as well if we do not obey the laws we were given. Fortunately, wolves are an obedient species, so it has been easier for us than the others, who had a harder time doing as they were told. We were also one of the last species created, and we were given more of the beneficial traits."

  "And the… uh… fish people? They're obedient as well?" Jordan finally seemed to have heard something that made him more curious.

  Luke laughed. "Hardly, but they live at the base of the ocean now, so they have fewer opportunities for a lapse in obedience."

  Carl thought for a moment, and tried to ignore the information that wasn’t relevant to his problem. He latched on to what he’d heard that he needed. "So, you can go into someone's mind and erase their memories?"

  "One of my many jobs, yes,” Luke answered, looking at Jordan.

  "And we've witnessed your ability to control a person's mind well enough to incapacitate the person," Carl said.

  "Yes," Luke said again, his eyes still measuring Jordan’s response.

  Carl started pacing, staring at the floor as he spoke. "Can you make people do things, while they are still acting autonomously, using their knowledge and skills?"

  "Yes, though such a task is not simple, especially when there is more than one person to control. Why?" Luke watched Carl curiously.

  Carl frowned in concentration as he continued pacing. "I’m convinced that I need the transplant. I know you were able to handle Jordan and me both at the same time, but we were both still in possession of our thoughts. Can you take control of a surgical team at a surgical center, and get me a bone marrow transplant by doing so?"

  Luke sat quietly for a moment. "Well, there is more than one way to do that with the type of skills I have, but it would probably involve a larger number of people than you have considered."

  Carl lifted a hand and raised fingers one by one; "There's the surgeon and a couple of assisting nurses—"

  "And the records, which requires identification and control of people with access to those records,” Luke interrupted impatiently. “This used to be so much easier, before the computer era. You humans have gotten way too far ahead of yourselves in the last fifty years. Deos, I am so sick of this endless job."

  Jordan piped in quickly, "You mean you can handle all the computer end of this?"

  Luke glanced at Jordan. "It can be done, with some effort. And with some risk.”

  Needing more detail, Carl asked, “What risk, exactly?”

  Luke replied, “Every time I go into a mind, I can only easily access surface level thoughts, and even then, there is a chance I will not exit cleanly, and that will scramble a brain. At a minimum, it causes amnesia. In some cases, complete, irreversible insanity. So, I avoid it unless I know the being is going to die anyway, or it is of critical importance.”

  Carl stopped pacing. "Insanity? And this could happen to any, or even all, of the surgical team?"

  "Yes. So, it is only done if it meets more important objectives. Which might apply to this situation. It could save countless lives that are currently ended because they are non-viable." Luke replied somberly, looking down at the carpet as he thought it through.

  "So, this isn't just about me?" Carl asked, astonished.

  Luke’s eyebrows lifted as he looked up at Carl. "Not at all. If it were just about you, you would be dead."

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jordan swore, interrupting him.

  Luke sighed, "Very little, unfortunately. Except that I am really fucking tired, and I really wish I could just retire. But back to the question at hand. Have you ruled out all other possible solutions?" Luke turned to Carl.

  Carl paced. "We haven't had a lot of time to really brainstorm."

  "Then let us do some brainstorming now and come to a conclusion,” Luke said. “If we are going to do it, sooner is better than later."

  Chapter 25 – Making Plans

  Jordan made a pot of coffee, with a bit of cinnamon, a dash of black pepper, and some fresh turmeric, at Luke's adamant insistence. He claimed it boosted mental clarity, and Carl supported him, so Jordan did what he was asked. He sure
as hell didn't like this new approach, but he couldn't think of any other way to keep Carl alive, and he didn't want to see him die, so he decided to bide his time, keeping a close eye on Luke.

  Luke just didn't seem to have any moral compunctions about "executing" people, or any decent self-editing on the subject, even when he was talking to the subject of his supposedly suspended execution. He just let what he was thinking come right out of his mouth, not caring whether the person he had said he was going to kill heard it or not. Jordan was half-sure he was simply a psychopath with hypnotic tricks, but he couldn't seem to rule out the distinct possibility that the guy could, and would, handle this transplant Carl seemed to need. He hated having nothing but bad options, but that's where he was. Again.

  He brought the coffee and three mugs into the parlor, where Carl and Luke were busy with dry-erase markers on the windows. Carl had pulled all the drapes aside so the windows were fully exposed so they could use them for brainstorming.

  "What do you think?" Carl asked over his shoulder, his hand still in the air, ready to write something onto the window.

  Jordan looked at what was written. Carl had "Mind-Control Surgical Team" below which was a straight line down, where he'd written "Luke’s connections." There were bullets points under his name, including one that was marked with the words “many moving parts.” Jordan had to move sideways to see the last point clearly when he came back in. He put the pot and mugs down on the coffee table, then saw the plus before "complete control over information and process.” So those weren't dashes, they were minus signs. Pros and cons.

  "I thought we were brainstorming ways other than a transplant."

  "Yeah, well, we can't think of anything. Can you?"

  Jordan poured himself some coffee and looked at the window. Then through it. The cedar and fir trees were a deep green. There was a hemlock tree that Jordan always noticed on the far side of the clearing. The tip flopped over as all Hemlock trees did at the top. Hemlock was a notorious poison, and he always took immediate notice of all the ways to die, wherever he went. It was the last thing he wanted to focus on, right now. Ways to live. How many ways to live could he come up with?

  It's in Carl's blood. It's his blood type. The only possible solution he could think of was to change the blood type. That, or go down the path of vampiredom, which sounded horrific, even if Luke would allow it, and he clearly would not. Luke also, apparently, had the power to enforce this rule. Jordan shook his head in frustration. "Give me time, dammit! This is all too fast—"

  "Not fast enough, in my opinion," Luke answered quietly. "You two have no idea how much patience I am showing you. You have no idea the pressures I am under, the timeline we are on, the immediacy of the need to get this done and move on to other imperatives. The fact that you have a possible solution, and that it could save more than just Carl's life, is the biggest breakthrough in lupanthrus mercy in thousands of years. Since I have been alive. Sometimes the pace of progress is a good thing, but make no mistake, my patience is running out." Luke looked fiercely into Jordan's eyes. "I am doing this for you, Jordan. If you will do this, you will need to get up to speed quickly, and making decisions like this is one of the most critical elements of the job—"

  "I’m not taking your fucking job!" Jordan cursed, and Luke leaned back in surprise.

  "Fuqua! I am not accustomed to being challenged!" Luke answered, stepping forward.

  Jordan leaned in and shouted, "I'm not accustomed to people who can't get it through their thick skull that I'm not a toy!"

  Luke gaped in shock at Jordan’s outburst, then laughed with delight. "Oh, no, farthest from. The gods themselves must be laughing at me now. I finally have what I have been looking for hundreds of years, right under my nose, and it refuses to do what I ask because it is exactly what I am looking for,” Luke’s expression changed to a fierce glare. “I am way too old for this, I am too tired, and I have too much to do. I have forgotten how to work with others with all the solitary work I have had to do, and I have got to find my way out of this labyrinth I have built around myself, but I keep going down the wrong path." Luke shook his head, then looked up and shook his fist at the ceiling. "I hope you are enjoying this! I am certainly not.”

  Carl and Jordan looked at each other. Jordan shook his head. Surely, Carl saw the insanity now.

  Apparently not, Jordan thought, as Carl spoke. "So that's it, then. The only option is the transplant, and the only question is, do we use Jordan's connections for the data, or have you take care of it."

  "Not me, my assistant,” Luke answered, wearily. “For the data, at least. There is no way I will have time to do both, and I seriously do not have time to clean up any of the details that might escape after the fact. It seems there are always details that escape. The data breach will snowball, and every moment I take cleaning it up, there is more mess to clean up. It can take years to get ahead of it, as it did with the Roswell incident. And if I miss a single thing, some government agency will release documents, or someone will hack them, then I have a ton more work to do. Snowden was a nightmare. I had to make sure he was safely out of the country so I could review his thoughts when I had a chance, and erase anything he knew about us at that point. It is fine as long as it is in concealed government files, but that information breach was hell – and don’t get me started on Assange.”

  "You handled the Snowden escape?" Carl asked.

  "Parts of it,” Luke replied. “He has particularly good skills and many connections. But he would not have made it the whole distance safely without my facilitation."

  "So, he's one of the people you've talked to?" Carl said, surprised.

  "No, I never talked to him,” Luke responded. “I just dropped into his mind and got back out. He does not remember anything about it."

  "And he's not insane, and he functioned through it," Carl pressed.

  "That is the outcome in over 99% of the cases. I avoid situations that would turn out otherwise,” Luke answered, looking up finally. “When I am the one doing it, anyway."

  "What about your assistant?" Carl asked.

  Luke shook his head. "More like 85% right now, but he is getting better. He needs more practice, and experience to learn proper judgment. This would be good practice."

  Carl took the mug of coffee Jordan had finally poured for him. Luke poured his own, since Jordan clearly wasn’t going to.

  Jordan took a sip from his mug, then looked down at it. That was actually pretty good. Weird, but not bad at all. When he looked up, Luke was staring at him. "You've got an assistant, that’s great,” Jordan said. “That means you don’t need me." He suddenly felt anxious as he realized Luke seemed to be planning him into these machinations, and he didn't like it. He was accustomed to being in control, or having to fight. This was neither, and it was a horrible feeling. He didn't want his mind taken over again, but he didn't know how to stop Luke if Luke decided he wanted to do it. It was just like the times when he was just a boy, when his dad would pin him face down on his bed, then strap his arms and legs to the bedposts, pull his shirt up, and whip his bare back with a belt. He was utterly helpless.

  Jordan looked back down into his mug. He didn't want to look at either of them. Luke was a murderer, insane, controlling, everything Jordan had always fought against. And Carl had been drawn into his spell, just as Jordan’s mom had been drawn into his dad’s spell. Jordan felt a rising fear. It was a foolish, and criminal, idea to doctor medical files and control the minds of a group of people. He wanted none of it, but he couldn’t seem to find any other answer.

  "We’ll do it ourselves,” he said, finally, and looked up at Luke. "We don't need you."

  Carl answered. "You're wrong. We do need him. We can't do this alone.”

  Jordan slammed his mug on the table and strode down the hall toward the back door. Enough of this. He paused briefly to grab his gun and his jacket and headed out to the trees to clear his head. They would make decisions without hi
m, but they were doing that already. He started running up the trail to the nearby fire lookout.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Jordan took a deep breath and set his nerves aside as best he could, then hiked back down to the house, grabbed the silver handle of the front door, pulled it open, and walked inside.

  Luke was still sitting in the middle of the sofa, and he looked up at Jordan. He would have preferred the man already be gone, but he’d have to face this eventually anyway. “What did you decide, Carl?”

  Carl set his mug on the table. “I’ll give Luke copies of the records that will need to be entered into my file. He’ll get them to his assistant who will call me and put me in touch with the data team he puts together while I find a suitable donor, then he and I will see that the donation request is accepted by a suitable center. When it’s time, Luke will be present to assure the appropriate mental state of the staff and coordinate any further records alterations, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “You don’t need me then,” Jordan said with relief.

  “Oh, we most certainly need you,” Luke said.

  Jordan felt his lip curl as he sized up the man sprawled across the smooth brown leather of the sofa. “What for?”

  Luke slowly sat up. “To make sure nothing interrupts us as we perform the process.”

  Jordan leaned against the doorway. “That’s not in my job description,” he said finally.

  Luke seemed to almost be smiling. “That is your choice? You want Carl to die?”

  Jordan looked at Carl. His face was just the slightest bit fuller than it had been a few days ago, but it was still bony, compared to the healthy, younger Carl he had gone to school with. He wondered if Carl’s body would ever fully recover from this. No, he didn’t want Carl to die, but he wasn’t going to work for Luke.

  “What if I don’t? I’m not taking orders from you.”