Strange Robby

by Selina Rosen

  Helen kissed him on the lips, then, and he kissed her back.

  "What was that for?" Robby asked, trying to keep the stupid grin off his face.

  "Now you don't have to spend the evening wondering if I'm going to let you kiss me good night."

  She was with Carrie, and Carrie was with her. Their flesh melding into one being as they made love. She felt that love radiating through her body.

  There was a loud noise, and she was in the trench. The sand was blowing—it was always blowing. She heard the whistling sound of an incoming scud.

  "Look out!" she screamed and ran. The strength of the explosion sent her flying. Something wet and sticky hit her face. When she looked down at her feet, Carrie's disembodied head was staring up at her. She screamed and kept screaming.

  Spider jerked into a sitting position, her breath coming in gasps. She quickly rubbed the tears from her eyes. She was shaking all over and covered in a sickly cold sweat.

  "Are you OK?" The boy asked.

  "No. I'm not OK. None of us are OK!" She jumped to her feet and started yanking on the chains that held her. The chain was about twice the size that the old one had been, and all she was doing was eating the skin off her hands.

  "You bastards!" she screamed into the dark. She flopped onto her ass on the concrete. Sleeping on this shit was enough to give anyone nightmares.

  "Go back to sleep, boy."

  "You have a nightmare?" he asked.

  "Yes, something like that," Spider said.

  "My mom . . . well, the other . . . "

  "She's your mom, kid," Spider said gently. "She gave birth to you, took care of you when you were sick, and changed your shitty diapers. She's your mother. All I did—and not on purpose—was supply an egg. An egg that doesn't get incubated doesn't hatch into a chick, and a chick that doesn't get fed and cared for doesn't grow into a chicken."

  The boy laughed, and Spider thought about what she had said. She guessed it did sound pretty silly.

  "So. What about your mom?"

  "When I have a nightmare my mom has me tell her about my happiest thought. Maybe it would help if you told me your happiest thought."

  Spider laughed. "I don't think it would be appropriate for me to tell a nine-year-old boy about my happiest thought."

  "Why not?" Mark asked.

  "Because my happiest thought has to do with sex."

  "Oh," he said in an embarrassed tone. He lay down then and laid his head on her leg. "Spider, are you married?"

  Spider thought about that a minute. "Well . . . kindah."

  "You live with your boyfriend?" Mark asked.

  "No. I . . . " She took a deep breath and decided to just tell him. "I'm gay, Mark. I live with another woman. Her name is Carrie."

  "I thought so," Mark said matter-of-factly.

  Spider shook her head. "Why did you put me on the spot, then? Why didn't you just ask me if I was queer?"

  "I was afraid you'd be mad." The boy sighed. "Can we go back to sleep now? I'm tired."

  "All right." Spider moved to lay beside the boy. "Mark?"

  "Yes."

  "When I was a kid about your age my brother Scott used to take me down to the park and we would play catch. One day a bunch of kids from the neighborhood were all going to play baseball. The kids my brother played with didn't want to let me play because I was too little, but Scott said he wasn't playing if I couldn't play, and so they let me play. I hit a home run that day, and our team won the game, and everyone said how great I was. That's my happy thought."

  "It's a good happy thought," Mark said sleepily. "Now just keep thinking happy things, and if you go to sleep thinking happy things, you won't have any more nightmares."

  It sounded like good, strong logic to Spider.

  Robby woke up to the sun on his face and a warm female body in his arms. He hugged Helen tight and she woke up.

  "Good morning," she cooed. She kissed his chest and then moved to kiss his lips. They kissed for a long time.

  "I . . . I love you," Robby said when they parted.

  Helen laughed. "You don't have to say that, Robby . . . "

  "But it's true. I do. I love you, and I want to be with you the rest of my life."

  "That's very sweet, Robby, but . . . Robby, I'm the first woman you've ever dated. The first woman you've ever had sex with. Don't you think . . . "

  Robby kissed her lips gently. "I may be green, but I'm not stupid. I know how I feel, Helen. I know you—what kind of person you are. I know everything about you . . . "

  "Robby, we just met . . . "

  "Believe me, Helen. I know you in a way that no one else ever has or ever will, and I love you."

  Helen looked at him. He was dead serious. "Robby, this is a little fast . . . "

  "Not too fast for sex, but too fast to say I love you." Robby laughed.

  He had a point there. She smiled at him. "OK. Sounds good to me." Helen lay down with her head on his chest. She could definitely deal with some attention from a really nice and very good-looking young man after all of the total losers she'd had in her life. Besides which, he was one hell of a lover. He seemed to know what she wanted and how to give it to her. Considering it was his first time that was amazing. Maybe this one was the one.

  Robby wanted to ask her to marry him. Wanted to stay there with her. But Spider had given up everything to save his ass, and he owed her.

  "Helen, you know . . . You know I have business."

  "Oh yes. The strange and mysterious business." She giggled.

  "Sooner or later the time will be right and I'll have to make my move. Could be tomorrow, could be next week, could be a month from now. I don't know when, but when it does . . . I will have to go, and I don't know how long I'll be gone. But I promise you the most righteous promise a man can make, that I will be back. If I'm alive, I will come back."

  Now Helen had heard some lines in her life, but she just didn't think Robby was feeding her a line. It just sounded so much like bull shit that it had to be true.

  "Can't you tell me what's going on, Robby?" Helen asked. "I'm just beginning to like having you around. I don't want you to leave even for a little while."

  "I can tell you this much. The SWTF are bad people. A friend of mine figured out what they were up to and now they're holding her in that building trying to find out where I am. I have to find a way to get her out of there before they kill her. Then, together, we'll have to find a way to stop them, or my friend and I will be running the rest of our lives."

  "That place is a fortress, Robby. You can't get in there. Nobody could."

  Robby smiled. "I can get in. I just have to wait for a time when I can get in, get my friend out, and have us both live to tell the tale."

  They had left her alone with the boy for two or three days, Spider couldn't be exactly sure how long. The only contact they had with the outside world was the food trays that were slid through a slot in the bottom of the door.

  Now Fritz was walking in with six So-what-if guys. One of them she knew from Shea City. If he stayed true to his feelings there, he didn't want to be here now, and he proved his distaste for the proceedings by standing close to the door as if guarding it. Obviously separating himself from what was happening as much as possible.

  Then there was the one that Spider had hit so many times with a hatred of Fritz that he now did nothing but snarl at the man. He certainly wouldn't be able to stop someone from killing Fritz.

  Mark was smart; he moved close to Spider and stayed there.

  "Come here, boy," Fritz ordered.

  "Come get me," he said. He knew they were all afraid of Spider Webb and with good reason. If they got close, she could kill every one of them.

  "Shoot her," Fritz ordered.

  One of the men raised the weapon in his arm.

  "No!" Mark screamed.

  A white light arched, and Spider hit the floor. While she was convulsing, three men ran in and grabbed the boy. Spider convulsed on the floor a few more seco
nds, stopped, and got shakily to her feet.

  "It's a nice little weapon we like to call the lightning bolt. Effectively, it is a tazer that can be fired from a distance. What do you think of it?" Fritz asked, looking at his nails.

  "Don't play this game out, Fritz," Spider warned through chattering teeth. "Let the boy go. Keep this between adults, or at the very least between you and I."

  "Tell us who the Fry Guy is," Fritz ordered.

  "I don't know," Spider spat at him.

  They strapped Mark to a chair. "Don't you care about the boy, Spider?

  "Goddamn it! I don't know who he is! I told you that!" Spider said.

  "Do it," Fritz ordered. They hit Mark with the cattle prod.

  Spider slung herself to the floor and started banging her head on the concrete.

  Mark screamed and cried because he was hurt and because he knew what Spider was trying to do.

  "Stop her, stop her!" Fritz screamed.

  They hit her with the lightning gun, but she had already successfully knocked herself out.

  Mark watched as a team of scientist started checking her out. It was about ten minutes before one of them, a woman, announced. "She's given herself a fairly bad concussion, that's all. We'll administer an anti-inflammatory, and she should come to in a few minutes, but I can't promise she'll be much good. You know how they are with head injuries."

  Fritz nodded, then looked at the boy. He smiled a smile that made Mark want to choke him. "See, boy? Your mother loves you enough to kill herself to protect you. But you tell her this when she wakes up. Tell her you're worthless to us because you have no power. Therefore you are expendable, and there is no reason for us to take chances by putting you back out there with the rest of the world. The only reason you are alive is for her. Tell her that if she dies, you die automatically."

  Mark glared at him, a look of utter hatred in his eyes and thought, Spider's right, you'll screw up, and when you do . . .

  "Did you hear me, boy?" Fritz asked in a growl.

  "Yes," Mark spat back.

  "And do you understand?"

  "Yes," Mark said.

  Fritz turned to one of the SWTF guys. "Leave the little bastard tied up. It will be good for him."

  Fritz and Francis left, and the SWTF guys started to file out behind them.

  The one with the prod hit the boy again, and Mark screamed.

  Jason grabbed the guy by the collar and shook him.

  "What the hell was that for!" Jason hissed in the man's face.

  The man smiled and shrugged. "For the fun of it. It ain't like they're gonna let him live, anyway. He's a fucking freak; he ain't human."

  "Don't do it again," Jason ordered. He left the room following the guy with the prod. His palms were sweaty, and he felt sick.

  Mark was glad when he heard the door close. He started to cry. He knew they were watching him, but it wasn't the same as them being in the room.

  Another crew of men came in and started putting Spider in a straightjacket.

  "Leave her alone!" Mark screamed. "Leave her alone!"

  "Shut up, kid!" one of the men screamed at him. "We ain't hurting her, just making it where she can't hurt herself."

  Mark kept telling himself that they were going to get away. That they were going to get away and kill all of these assholes. It was the only way he was going to make it through whatever they were going to do to him next.

  "Well, what have you got for me Denisten?" Carrie asked.

  Justin looked at the woman. She was not nearly as attractive as he remembered her being. Her eyes had black circles around them and were sunk back in her head. Her skin was gray looking, and she looked like she'd lost a bunch of weight. Obviously, she was getting even less sleep than he was.

  "It's not easy. Without drawing attention to the fact that I'm checking out the SWTF it's hard to get to those files. Harder still to do it without leaving any traces. So far I have found a kind of pattern. Seven cities keep cropping up in the files. Shea City, Washington DC, LA, Denver, Phoenix, Las Vegas and Seattle." He walked over and loaded the disk onto Carrie's computer. "If you'll look, you'll see that the numbers go up every five years. I'm assuming that by subjects they mean these hybrids. You can also see that they introduce approximately five new subjects to these areas every five years. Now I don't have a list of names, yet, but we do have dates of birth. If we match the birth dates to the cities . . . "

  "We'll get a list of babies born on that day, and we'll be able to track them down that way."

  "Bingo," Justin said. "We have a few problems—most relatively small—but one rather large."

  "Problems, we don't need no stinking problems!" George said. Carrie and Justin turned and stared at him, he laughed nervously and shrugged. "Just trying to lighten things up a bit."

  "Well, don't," Carrie said. "Go on, Denisten."

  "First, I don't know how much the FBI knows. It looks like they started to investigate the SWTF and someone very high up the food chain threw out a red flag and stopped the investigation. The notes I've found with the files would certainly lead me to believe that they had no idea what they were looking at. If the FBI knows exactly what's going on with the SWTF, then they're covering for them. If they are, that means we're dealing with two government agencies, not just one, and the FBI has considerably more man power than the SWTF.

  "Second, all of the agents that did the initial investigation on the SWTF met with unfortunate accidents. All either in the line of duty or under unquestionable, or at least unquestioned, accidental circumstances. No investigations. No arrests. No loose ends.

  "And last, the crème de la crème. If you'll look at this list carefully you'll notice that these subjects have all been tested."

  "What does that mean?" George asked.

  Carrie sighed deeply. "If they know they are being tested, then they know what they are, what they're being tested for, and why. It means at least some of these human weapons may be willing participants in the program. It means they may be working for the SWTF. Which means my whole plan just got scrapped."

  Denisten nodded silently, then added after a moment. "So, what now boss?"

  Jason walked into the diner for lunch, although he was almost afraid to eat. He had never been so confused or tormented in his life. He openly admitted that he had done terrible things for the agency before, but torturing a nine-year-old boy was hitting a little too close to home for him.

  The girl set the menu in front of him. "Coffee today, Mr. Baker?"

  He just nodded and started looking at the menu. The girl came back with the coffee.

  "Ready to order?" she asked.

  "I'll just have the soup and some crackers, Helen." He forced a smile for her, and she smiled back and hurried off to fill his order.

  Robby grabbed Helen in the kitchen and pulled her aside. "That man out there."

  "Yes?"

  "Give him this napkin," Robby said.

  Helen nodded silently and took the napkin. She tried to make her hand stop shaking as she handed Jason his soup and crackers. She put the napkin down by his bowl. "Enjoy your meal." She moved quickly away.

  Jason picked up his napkin and started to flip it open. But when he saw the writing, he quickly put it beneath the table and unfolded it over his lap. He looked down and read the note.

  If you don't want the boy to die, meet me in the bathroom.

  Jason took a couple of bites of soup, then he purposefully spilt a mouthful down the front of his shirt. "Damn!" he cursed and started wiping it off with the napkin. Then he got up, napkin in hand, and headed for the bathroom.

  He walked in and heard someone slide the lock closed behind him. When he turned around to look, he found that he wasn't too surprised by who it was.

  "So, you're the Fry Guy," Jason said. "I could turn you in and make myself the pride of the agency, get myself a healthy bonus, too."

  "We both know you'd never get the chance," Robby said. "I know what's in your mind. What kind of man y
ou are, and what kind of man you wish you were. You want to redeem yourself, and I can help you do that if you help me."

  Jason nodded. He threw the note into the toilet and flushed. "OK, buddy. Tell me what you think I can do."

  When Spider came to she was hanging from the ceiling in a straightjacket again. Not exactly the best position to be in. Mark was still strapped to the chair, and from the wet condition of his pants they had left him there quite awhile.