Abbey frequently knew things learned in her dreams. She knew that if her instructors ever found out about her dreams she would be dead. It seemed most of her inexplicable knowledge had to do with things that would mean death, hers or someone else’s. She had occasionally dreamed of a young girl. A girl who, like herself, was driven to be the best, even if her heart was not in it. This accounted for most of the things she knew, but more came from feelings and had no identifiable source.
Most of Abbey’s childhood had been one exciting challenge after another. One by one, she mastered all the skills she would need as a Hunter. Rising always to the top of any group she was in, Abbey felt pride in her myriad abilities and enjoyed passing each new test set before her.
There were a few subjects she did not enjoy. Her internship on the deletion squad had been one. Silently she began to question why. Why were these lives extinguished? Most had obvious defects, and some were quite grotesque. Others appeared to be perfectly healthy beautiful babies. Never letting her doubts show, Abbey had been business-like and efficient in her duties. Never did she take part in any of the cruel tortures inflicted by others, but neither did she protest or in any way let her disgust show.
Each night as she went to sleep she struggled to hold back the tears and not let the fear show. The fear came from knowing that tonight Danielle would haunt her dreams again. Warning her to never let them know how it pained her to do some of the things that she must do, warning her that her very life depended on it, that she must conform. That she must do more than simply accept, she must excel.
Waking in the morning she would steel herself for another day of killing. She told herself that it was only the killing of babies that bothered her, that when she became a full-fledged Hunter, she would be facing genetic trash, criminals who would mean the destruction of mankind if allowed to spread. She continued telling herself this for months after she had finished her internship. Eventually, she even managed to believe it. Almost.
Only one other aspect of her training gave her pause. The martial arts were easy, but the erotic arts, while also easy, and often even pleasurable, though by no means always so, left her feeling empty. Some of the girls really looked forward to each session. Some even enjoyed the really perverted stuff with multiple partners. Learning to please both men and women with tastes as exotic and often painful as one could imagine was all part of her training. Abbey suspected it had as much to do with pleasing the instructors as with training the candidates.
By the time her training was done, Abbey could participate in all manner of sexual acts and divorce herself from the proceedings. She could give all the right responses, and elicit them in her partner. She could fake an orgasm and make it believable. She could seduce almost any man or woman. This was a skill she had never taken any pride in. As in all other areas of study she had performed at a level well above her peers, never once letting go of her iron control over her emotions.
It was during these classes that her dreams of Danielle were the most vivid, the most disturbing. “Never trust a man! Never trust love! Never trust Malone!” Over and over Danielle would warn her. Abbey knew who Malone was, but why should she fear him? Unable to speak in her dreams she could never ask, only watch helplessly as Danielle’s warnings hammered at her psyche.
Returning to the present, Abbey pushed herself even harder as she progressed to ever more difficult maneuvers. She must find out if Matt was a Hunter, and if so, was he playing with her, trying to test her, or was he trying to sabotage her final exam. In either case, Abbey knew that he would be as hard to read, and thus figure out, as he could be. She would not be able to tell with anything less than a sample of his blood. If he was a Hunter there could be no future for them. He would be like all the others, driven to exterminate the outcasts, and cold inside. If he were an outcast, then she would suppress whatever feelings he had stirred and do her duty. After all, he was a man, and possibly a genetic criminal as well. Two reasons not to trust him, but oh, how she ached to.
Never did it occur to her that he might be a Hunter and still have normal human emotions. She knew she was unique among her kind. It was one of those things she just knew and never doubted. There was only her, the only Hunter to somehow survive the training with a conscience intact.
Wondering why she ever felt that life would in any way be good to her, she stripped and entered the shower. As the hot water began to loosen tired muscles, Abbey felt a stirring of desire as she remembered the view of Matt swimming naked, like a man possessed of some grim purpose, back and forth, never ceasing after that first glance and its accompanying blush.
Matt awoke hours before dawn as he always did, and performed his exercises. Angus joined him for a 12 mile run, followed by 30 minutes of sparring.
“Happy birthday, Matthew me lad.” Angus said when they had returned to their room, handing Matt a small wrapped box.
“What is it?” Matt replied, as he held it up to the light and shook it gently.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to open it to find out won’t you, Boyo?”
Sitting on the edge of the bed he tore the paper from the package. After opening the box and removing the foam packing material Matt saw a new PDT nestled in the box. It looked no different than the fake one he habitually wore as part of his ongoing deception of the world at large. The only reason Matt was certain it was real, was of course, Angus would not give him another fake.
“Tis all set fer a new user, all ye havta do is mix up a wee batch o’ potion, and log on. Jus’ remember tis as dangerous ta you as ever if ya ferget an use it when yer not on the potion. Since there are no seminars today you may be wantin ta try it now.”
Matt did not want to try it just then. He wanted to be unaffected by the increased aggression it would cause, and the crash tomorrow evening would mean he’d have to hide from Abbey. She’d think that she had done something to upset him. Of course, that would not be a problem in a few days anyway, since he had decided to embark on his campaign of revenge soon, and he would not be able to maintain attachments to anyone, both for his safety and theirs. Better to enjoy the day ahead and possibly a few more and then to silently slip away. Angus would understand, and Abbey…he had no right to be thinking of any kind of relationship with her anyway. Even without his plans, that was way too dangerous to even dream about.
“I guess there is no time like the present. I just need 10 minutes to meditate first.”
Setting the PDT on the bed, Matt slid down to the floor and sat on his heels, with his eyes closed. Soon, as Angus watched, Matt’s breathing became slower and gained a steady rhythm. It still surprised Angus how easily Matt could slide into a meditative trance. After studying for more than a decade, Angus continued to find that inner calm, what some called the void, elusive. Matt’s ability to reach for and embrace that spirit of calm was uncanny. Even when under the influence of the potion, and in a full-blown rage, Matt never needed more than 2 minutes to regain his composure, and his center. Angus believed there was more to it than discipline. He believed that this ability sprang from the same source as the fire inside Matt that caused strong, independent men, men such as Angus himself, to follow where Matt would lead. Men who would look at him and see the inexperienced youth of 18, and still do whatever he asked of them. Matt did not know of this ability in himself, and half of the moves they had made over the years were designed to keep him from gaining intimates who would then be converted to his cause of reciprocal hate. There would be a time for Matt’s natural leadership to come to the fore, but only when the path he chose led to somewhere other than ruin.
If he chose the course Angus believed he would, the one Angus believed was divinely inspired, then he might well lead mankind into a brighter era.
In the final analysis, divine inspiration is what he thought Matt embodied. God’s plan to save the world gone astray due to imperfect humans. This is all that kept him from following Matt down his path of destruction; the belief, the faith that Matt was meant for more th
an rage and death.
After no more than five minutes Matt, without any prior indication that he was once again grounded in the mundane everyday world, rose and crossed the room to retrieve a large syringe from his luggage.
Pressing the pre-mixed potion to his jugular, Matt pushed the needle into the vein and depressed the plunger. Feeling the hot rush in his blood Matt clamped down on the rise of aggression. It wasn’t just anger, but all of the hot emotions, as Matt thought of them. Anger came quicker and hotter, but so too did joy, despair, and lust.
This more than anything was what he feared about spending the day with Abbey. While what he felt for her already went far beyond mere lust, it most definitely began with an almost irresistible desire. There was a deeper connection there, he was unsure what, but it went beyond the physical. There was a current that flowed back and forth between them that he could actually feel as a physical presence. He only regretted he would be unable to learn more about it. It was just too dangerous. If she were, as in his worst fears, a Hunter, one of them would have to die. If she was not, she was just as dangerous in the long term, only danger to her as an innocent was something he could not tolerate. He would stick to his plan, a few days with her and Angus, and then he was gone.
Pushing thoughts of Abbey from his mind, Matt picked up the PDT. Hesitating only for a moment he pushed his thumb down on the needle that would activate the device. Despite having seen Angus do this countless times over the past several years, Matt knew a moment’s panic as his mind screamed at him, warning of the impending painful death to come.
Sampling his blood and finding it acceptable, the screen on the PDT lit with its initial log-on instructions. Nothing as cumbersome as passwords was required for from now on it would only work with a sample of Matt’s blood. Matt’s blood mixed with the ‘potion’.
“I thought we might spend the mornin’ goin over some o’ the tings I pre-loaded on er fer ya.”
“Uh, I’d love to Angus, but maybe tonight, okay? I’ve got plans for this morning already.”
“Ah, tis the lass I seen ye wit tis it not? Well Matty, jes be careful will ye? I’ve a bad feelin ‘bout her.”
Angus had more than a bad feeling; he’d even gone so far as to send her image to be checked against their files of known BGP operatives. He wasn’t going to tell Matt that just yet however, not unless his worst fears were realized.
“Yeah, sure thing Angus, I’m always careful, but it is my birthday, and I just want to spend it with a beautiful girl. Is that so wrong?”Not waiting to hear Angus’ reply, Matt was in the bathroom, dressed and out the door in record time.
They had agreed to meet a half hour before sunrise, outside the hotel. Matt was 15 minutes early. After waiting no more than 2 minutes he looked up and saw her approaching. She wore skin-tight jeans, western boots, and a long sleeved, cotton, button-up shirt, her long hair confined in a braided ponytail, Matt had never seen anything as lovely. Watching her move with feline grace he mentally changed ‘lovely’ to ‘sexy’. It was not an obvious seductive kind of walk, just a woman who knew her body intimately. There was no wasted movement, no calculated sway to the hips or anything like that. She was just so gorgeous, and moved so well, that Matt could not help but feel a surge of desire that threatened to become visible and was already painful.
Seeing Matt waiting, Abbey smiled, and his heart, as well as parts lower, leaped. Telling himself it was just the ‘potion’, Matt went through some fast calming exercises, and smiled back.
“The ancient Romans said ‘Die now’ at moments of great happiness. It meant that this was as good as it gets, so now is the time to die before the happiness fades. Seeing you here, looking more beautiful than should be possible for mortal woman, I can almost understand that sentiment, for surely I have gazed upon that which I am unworthy to behold. The only thing keeping my heart beating is the fact that it is racing way too hard to even consider stopping just now.”
Smiling and giving Matt a little curtsy Abbey replied “Thank you, kind sir. You look pretty dashing yourself. The cowboy in every girl’s fantasy.”
Matt was also wearing boots and jeans, his shirt was starched stiffly, and his head was topped off with a straw Stetson hat. He wore them with the ease of one accustomed to wearing them for years. While he was at ease in them they were no more him than any of the other carefully crafted persona he had used over the years.
Matt did love horses and was a superb horseman. He would be happy riding every day, working with animals, but that was not to be.
“So little lady, you fantasize about cowboys do ya?” Matt said tipping his hat. “Well ma’am, I’ve read every one of Louis L’Amour’s books, twice. I guess that is about as qualified as anyone is likely to get in this day and age. I even know the difference between a halter and cinch. I only hope they have western tack as well as English, or I guess even Japanese.”
“Keep up that Texas drawl and I’m yours. It reminds me of home, though none of the boys back home were quite as cute as you. Oh, and none of them blushed so well either,” Abbey smiled as the color rose in Matt’s cheeks.
Silently cursing his heightened emotions, Matt turned down the path that led to the stables. He’d forgotten that embarrassment came easier, too.
They walked along in companionable silence for a while, then Matt felt Abbey’s hand slide comfortably into his. Looking first at their joined hands then at her smiling face Matt was grateful the shadows hid his blush this time.
It would be so easy to slip into letting his guard down with her. The more time they spent together, the more safe she felt. There was still a very real prickling of his danger sense, but it seemed less centered on her than it had. Matt had to discipline himself to keep his guard up. His danger sense only warned him sometimes, and never indicated a lack of danger. So his feeling safe with Abbey must be springing from his desire more than anything else.
Rounding a bend in the trail they came to a secluded spot overlooking the cliffs at the ocean. The sky to the east was showing the faintest dusting of pink, the undersides of the clouds were a soft rose color seen nowhere else, but these few fleeting moments, just at dawn.
Stopping to watch the sun crest the horizon Abbey said, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
“I have”, Matt replied.
Confused until she realized Matt was gazing at the sunrise only as a backdrop to her, Abbey blushed even darker than Matt had.
“Stop it,” she said pushing him gently “Don’t you know it’s only fair for me to make you blush, not the other way around?”
“Sorry ma’am, I’m sorta unfamiliar with the rules in this here game.”
“Rules, yes. Game, most definitely not. Come on, let’s ride. I want to feel the wind in my face and a good horse moving underneath me.”
7
May 14, 2080
Tokyo, Asian Territory
Malone knew he was closing on Angus. He also knew he could not let him slip away again. Being able to turn up the trail was all that had saved his career so far, but the trail only opened up the possibility of capture. He needed to bring Angus in.
His gut told him Angus had not gone far from Tokyo. He had no evidence, as of yet, to indicate if this was true or not. Still, he felt him. He knew the object of his hunt was out there somewhere in that mass of humanity. Tokyo in the late 21st Century was a sprawling metropolis of over 25 million people. Locating one man in that throng was not going to be easy. Malone felt a sense of urgency he had not felt before, and somehow he knew if he did not nail Angus very soon, he never would.
Deciding he didn’t have the luxury of subtlety, Malone went straight to Tokyo’s outcast section. Every major city had one. They were allowed to exist for many reasons. Important citizens liked to travel there, and experience the danger of being among criminals. There was no real danger if they kept to the establishments that catered to that kind of thing. Here there existed a level of sin and debauchery that could never be acknowledged in polit
e society. The high and mighty could gather at their social events and condemn the outcasts for their barbaric ways, all the while hiding the fact that they were regular spectators at the very events they openly scorned. Every conceivable type of vice was available. Prostitution, gladiatorial combat, gambling, drugs, or any other imaginable sin was available in the outcast section.
The majority of outcasts who could be found there were of such a low priority that it just wasn’t worth the time and expense to clean the area up.
There was also, from a Hunter’s perspective, a wealth of information to be had. It really strengthened their interrogation technique, when the person in question knew the Hunter was supposed to kill him, and only by providing quality information would he be allowed to live another day.
Malone’s usual style was to squeeze all the information out of the trash, then kill it anyway. He was of the belief that the only way to handle a genetic criminal was to kill it.
When he was, eventually, given command of his own sector the first thing he would do is clean out the outcasts. Let them think you were going soft on their type and the next thing you knew they were growing backbones.
In this instance, the outcast section would prove the best place to gather information in a hurry. He could kill ten people just to set the mood, and no one could say anything about it. Displays like that tended to loosen tongues.
He was looking for the local information broker. Outcasts could be counted on to sell each other out in a second to save their own worthless hides. With that in mind he entered the first bar he found in the outcast section. Here, obvious freaks were visible everywhere.
In a sandpit in the middle of the dark, smoke-filled room, two creatures fought. Malone refused to even think of them as people. The first had sharp, hook shaped bone spurs protruding from the backs of its hands and at the knees. It was almost seven feet tall, massively muscled, and covered with a dense, coarse coat of body hair. It had a protruding brow, and a powerful jaw with three-inch long incisors hanging out over the lower lip.
The Hunted Page 7
