“I’m going to say hell no on that,” Harry countered. “They’d blow us away on sight. If a cop doesn’t shoot one of us first, then it’s going to be some nutball vigilante. No thanks, and besides, the two things that attacked us probably know we’re out there...”
His voice trailed off as an idea suddenly occurred to him. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll contact you later.”
He hung up just as the Director started to talk and ran back to the car. Anastasia curled up in her seat with her hood pulled over her head. As he drove away, she asked, “What’s the plan?”
“We need a hideout, and I know where to find one.”
The neighborhood was quiet, with snow lining the street curbs and blanketing the front yards. Upscale and sort of posh, this neighborhood in Northern New York located near Inwood Park defined upper-class respectability, as all the houses were large, many of the residents owned pricey automobiles, and an air of prosperity prevailed. “We’re going here?” Anastasia asked. “Is it safe?”
“It will be.”
Harry didn’t want to say too much as he parked the car near his contact’s house and got out after telling his girlfriend to sit tight. “You don’t know who might be spying.”
No car stood in the driveway, so either it was inside the garage, or his friend’s parents were out. He trotted up the front walk and knocked on the door. A second later, the door opened. A tall, skinny, pale-faced young man with dark straight hair down to his shoulders opened up and rubbed his eyes.
Wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a picture of two sleeping ponies, he looked like a gamer’s gamer—and that was what he was. Immediately, his sleepy look gave way to one of surprise and he exclaimed, “Hey man, good to see you!”
“I need a place to stay, Jason,” Harry said, foregoing all pleasantries. With a quick movement, he jerked his thumb at the car. “My girlfriend’s with me.”
Jason—last name Parham, computer gamer whiz and anime geek and Harry’s only friend during their junior high school days—nodded his head agreeably. A slow, curious smile spread across his narrow features. “This is like déjà vu all over again, man.”
The last time they’d met, Harry had asked for refuge just after meeting Anastasia and fleeing FBI headquarters. Ivan the bear-man had invaded their space, and desperate for a place to hide out, Harry had come here. Now here he was again in a similar predicament. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “Is it okay?”
His friend’s smile abruptly disappeared as he looked at the car and a hint of fear appeared in his eyes. “Is, uh, she still—”
“Yeah, she’s still a cat-girl, don’t call her Miss Kitty, and we’ll all get along fine,” Harry interrupted. He stopped and ran his hand over his head. Impatient as he felt, this couldn’t be rushed, not exactly. “We’re in trouble, and we need a place to stay, just for one night, maybe. The police—”
“Are after you,” Jason finished off. “Yeah, I saw a news report on television just a few minutes ago.” He glanced at the car. “You’d better take that off the street,” he said and motioned to the garage. “I’ll open up. Hang on a second.”
The door slammed shut. Harry shivered in the cold air for a minute until he heard the sound of the garage door opening. He cautiously surveyed the area, then ran to the car and drove it inside. The door closed agonizingly slowly behind him.
Once the engine died, Harry got out and found his friend waiting, his body shaking. “Are you going to be okay, Jason?”
Gulping down air, Jason answered, “I’ll make it, but...” he stopped for a moment, biting his lip, “She, uh, she didn’t do it, did she?”
“No, she didn’t, and we didn’t.”
While the question pissed Harry off at first, he’d sort of expected it. These days, you couldn’t trust anyone, but he did trust his friend and also felt compelled to set the record straight. “There were two others, and you do not want to meet them. C’mon, it’s just for a few hours. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” and he added, “Please.”
Jason signaled his acceptance by awkwardly bobbing his head. “Lucky for you my folks are visiting my aunt. She lives in Minnesota, got sick with cancer, so they’re going to see what they can do for her.” A shadow of anguish passed over his face. “She’s a nice lady, only around sixty. That’s too young, you know?”
“Sorry to hear that,” Harry said, thinking about his own father. The elder Goldman had died from pancreatic cancer in only six weeks. Stem cell treatment was supposed to be the newest and biggest kid on the block. It hadn’t worked, and that was what had started the transgenic experiments, which had led...here.
“Yeah, it sucks, that’s all I’ll say.” Jason’s voice was bleak. “She’s my mother’s sister, and my mom’s really torn up over it.”
Jason shook his head as if to cast off any talk of illness. He pointed at the door that led inside the house. “Bring your girlfriend in. C’mon.”
Harry went to the car, opened the door and gestured with his hand to follow. “Let’s go.”
Anastasia quickly got out, tested the air for danger with her nose, and then scampered inside the house. “Aah,” she breathed, once she got inside.
Harry trailed behind, and he had to admit it, Jason’s place was certainly impressive. It was a large and well-appointed house with expensive furniture, carpeting, and the latest in electronic gadgets and toys. Jason waved his arm as if giving them the guided tour. “Mi casa es su casa,” he politely said with a tiny bow.
Perching on top of the couch, Anastasia gave a sigh of relief and eyed the large screen plasma television, which took up most of the far wall. Harry did as well, feeling more than a little envious, but his friend had never used the fact that his parents were rich to lord it over anyone.
“I remember being here,” Anastasia said. She got off the couch long enough to walk over and pat Jason on the cheek. “Yeah, it’s a nice place.”
The very touch of her hand caused Jason to smile somewhat abashedly and after shutting the door, he locked it and with an ear-stretching grin asked, “Who’s in for pizza?”
After they’d eaten, Harry and Anastasia sat on the couch. During lunch, Harry had given out as many details as possible while Jason listened attentively. He said nothing, though, and after brushing the crumbs off his hands, he went over to his computer.
He switched it on and started playing a game. Harry took a deep breath, caught a nod from his girlfriend, and made his request. Parham responded with, “You want me to do what?” His eyes grew round as saucers and his voice shook. “Man, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“I have to know,” Harry said.
“This is...heavy, that’s all I’m saying.”
Jason’s face wore a dubious look, but anyone would have been put off by the idea of hacking into the FBI’s database and searching for clues. During lunch, Anastasia had suggested that someone in the FBI had given over the secrets of its transgenic research to the other side. She now repeated her assertion. “It makes sense,” she said with certainty.
“How do you figure?” Jason asked, busily tapping the keys to his computer.
He’d upgraded his wares since their last visit, Harry noticed. Instead of the usual assortment of laptops, this one was a top of the line desktop model. Their host spoke without looking over his shoulder. “I mean, not that I trust the government all that much,” Jason said uncertainly, “but aren’t those guys supposed to have security clearance and all that?”
Anastasia cleared her throat noisily and padded over to him. “People are bought all the time,” she stated, her voice rising in anger. “People sell out all the time. There are only four people I know who haven’t sold me out. One’s in the hospital, one of them is sitting on the couch over there. The third one is standing beside your computer.”
It sounded like an insult had just been tossed. Jason stopped typing and turned to her, his face now a mask. “What about the fourth person?”
“I’m
looking at him.”
Harry came over to them and said quietly, “She trusts you and I do, too. It’s just that things have happened really fast, and we don’t know who else to turn to.”
A few seconds of silence passed, and then Parham went back to typing as the young couple watched intently. Only the sound of the keys being tapped disturbed the quiet. However, a second later, he uttered a sound of disgust and threw up his hands in frustration. “I can’t get in. There are firewalls everywhere, and if I try skirting them, they’ll trace me here. We need an expert.”
“So what do we do?” Anastasia asked.
Once again, Jason turned back to the keyboard, tapped a few words out, and pressed a button. Mission over, he leaned back and rolled his head around, and an audible crack came from his neck. “I just gotta get into better shape.”
“Who did you just email?” Anastasia asked.
“A person I know,” Jason replied, cracking his knuckles. “This person isn’t in, but should be back later, so I’ll try again. My schedule at university gives me a lot of free time to do stuff at home.”
Pressing a button, he turned off his computer and started to thumb through a series of game discs. Harry figured doing stuff at home meant playing the very games being thumbed through, but wisely said nothing. “So...it’s okay if we stay?” he asked carefully.
Parham nodded. “My folks will come home tomorrow, so if you guys wanna crash out for a while, go ahead. You remember where the rooms are, right? First door to the right is the shower, and the second to the right is my older sister’s room. If you want to get cleaned up, go ahead. My older sister’s clothes are still there, so you can take what you want. I’m going to play a few hundred games, so you can, uh, rest up.” He pointed at the stairs.
Anastasia went to the stairwell, but after taking one step she turned back to softly say, “Sorry about getting a little angry before. It’s not you. I’m never sure who to trust...but I do trust you.”
Jason’s face brightened appreciably. “No problem.”
She disappeared up the steps and called down, “I’m going to take a shower and get changed, so wait, okay?”
Giving her the thumbs up sign, Harry fidgeted, worrying his toes into the carpet. He was thinking about his next move, and when he looked up, he found his friend giving him a strange smile. “What?”
“Are you and Anastasia...uh...” His attitude seemed noncommittal, but from the eager sound in his voice, he wanted the details.
“We’re together, if that’s what you mean,” Harry answered, feeling slightly put out. He didn’t want to abuse his host’s offer of friendship, but at the same time, some private things had to remain private. This was one of them. “I love her and that’s enough.”
“Cool, just curious was all,” Jason replied. “I got a girlfriend, too,” he added with a touch of pride.
The latter sentence made Harry arch his eyebrows. The last time he’d been here, his friend had been a member of the lonely geek-hearts club. What a difference six months could make. At the same time, though, Jason had to be a first-year university student, so maybe he’d gotten lucky.
“Where’d you meet her?”
Jason’s face suddenly turned pink as the line of questioning shifted. “Oh, uh, I didn’t tell you before, but I’m going to Hunter College. It’s got a four-year computer science program, and while it’s too easy, it’s a good way to connect with fellow gamers. That’s where I met my girlfriend. She’s pretty cute, too.”
“Does she have a name?”
Before Jason could say anything, Anastasia emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around her torso and called out, “I’m done!” She disappeared inside the guest room.
Harry caught his friend staring and punched him on the shoulder. “You already have a girlfriend. You said so, so shouldn’t your eyes be somewhere else?”
Now Jason’s face turned a brighter shade of pink. “Sorry, man,” he mumbled. “Uh...hang on a second. You’re gonna need some fresh clothes.”
He disappeared through the kitchen. The sound of feet tramping down the stairs echoed up to the main room, and Jason returned a few moments later with a pair of jeans, a belt, and another long-sleeved shirt.
“Just went to the laundry room. These might be too big on you, but I threw out my junior high clothes a long time ago.”
That remark stung. “You really know how to make someone feel at home,” Harry said, feeling like a little kid all over again.
Jason chuckled and waved his hand in an upwards direction. “Your lady is waiting.”
Aware of his own body odor, Harry trotted upstairs with the fresh clothes, entered the bathroom and stripped down. As he took a hot shower, the spray washed away some of the tension. After he shut off the water, he stepped out of the shower and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Skinny and wiry, his body showed a hint of muscle, but not a whole lot else. Sighing, he shook out the clothes, and though they were too big, keeping warm was a priority. He got dressed, rolled up the legs on the pants and cinched in the belt. Before walking into the guest room, he knocked on the door. “Anastasia, are you decent?”
“Come in.”
She’d found the clothes and now wore a yellow skirt and T-shirt. “Are you sure that’s going to be warm enough?” he asked.
Quickly spinning around and posing like a runway model, she gave him a coy smile. “Like I said, I’m a furry girl. I’m always sort of warm, higher metabolism and all that.”
While he stood there admiring the view, she took the opportunity to throw her arms around his neck and whisper into his ear, “It was cold outside, wasn’t it? I need to rest, and so do you.”
He never got the chance to answer as she tossed him on the bed and lay down beside him, pulling the blanket over top of them. Harry felt the warmth coming from her body, and she made a deep purring sound that calmed him down. Like a cat, he thought, just like a cat...but not.
Soon, the purring stopped and the sound of her quiet breathing wafted through the air. She’d fallen asleep, and he found himself nodding off as well. Sleep is good, he thought, sleep is good...
Drifting away, he was awakened by the movement beside him. Anastasia wasn’t sleeping so peacefully anymore. Instead, she’d started to violently thrash around, muttering something in a foreign language...Russian. Her forehead was damp, and she kept muttering, the sounds getting louder. With a sudden gasp, she sat up, blinking in the semi-darkened room.
Harry glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read three in the afternoon. They hadn’t been sleeping very long, and he held her close to him. “Are you okay? You were tossing and turning.”
A series of short, sharp breaths came from her mouth. “I saw...saw images,” she finally got out, putting her hand to her head as if to keep the mental pictures from escaping. “Images of the lab—Nurmelev’s lab—streets...people’s faces...men...but I don’t know who they are. Everything’s still blurry upstairs.” She tapped her head for emphasis. “But I saw them.”
With a start, Harry wondered if the memory blocks Nurmelev had put into place were beginning to crumble. If she’d remembered this part of her past life, then maybe she’d remember her last name. Whether it was good or not for her to know who she’d been in her past life...it wasn’t his decision, and he knew it.
A second later, her dreamy state vanished, and in its place, a hard practicality emerged. “Do you know who I was?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she prodded him with her finger. “If you know, if you love me, then tell me, please.”
Surprised by the question, Harry mumbled something to the effect that he didn’t know much. Anastasia’s eyes narrowed and this time she placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it—hard. “When we were captured, up at Nurmelev’s place, did he tell you?” she pressed and her voice became more insistent.
Well, the truth would have come out sooner or later, he decided and he looked straight at her. “Yeah, he said you were, uh, not a
nice girl in real life.”
A sense of shame swept over him, but not because he didn’t love Anastasia. He did, although he wasn’t sure how she’d react to the truth. Still, damn the consequences, she might remember it one day, so he added in a very small voice, “He said you were a...prostitute.”
For a second, Anastasia didn’t react, merely stared at him, but a hint of anger and then sorrow showed in her eyes. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Some of them stayed trapped in the fur, and she took her hand away from his shoulder and brushed them off.
In a hushed voice, she began to speak and trembled as the words came out. “The faces I saw—men, always men, some young, some older—what kind of person was I to have done...that?” she whispered and now the tears began once more in earnest. “What kind of person would sell...?”
With a sudden jerk, she twisted around to swivel her legs over the side of the bed, then leaned over. Her voice trailed off as a series of racking sobs shook her body. “All this time I thought I was someone who’d been kidnapped. I knew I had a mother and father, but no one ever told me, and now I find out I slept with...”
Her voice came out harshly as she twisted her head to spear Harry with a glance. “Did Nurmelev mention my parents?”
“Just your mother,” he said, once again fumbling for the proper response. “He said that your mother was an alcoholic. He didn’t say anything about your father or where exactly you came from.”
“I probably don’t even have a last name,” she muttered, still shaking. “I don’t have a history. I don’t remember where I went to elementary, junior or senior high school—or if I went. But I can remember doing...what I did. I’m just a prostitute, a cat...girl.”
Those words came out with such loathing that Harry felt compelled to set her straight and he placed his arms around her. “No...no,” she sobbed out. “Don’t touch me!”
Rise of the Transgenics Page 7
