Guy smiled. “It’s hard to explain. More tea?”
The forest darkened as the sun lowered into its depths. The wind swayed raven-laden branches, stirring the aroma of ancient bark and evergreen needles. Steam wafted from the freshly-poured tea and dissipated into the air. Guy closed his eyes, rocking slightly as if concentrating on absorbing it all.
“Have you ever planted a tree, Ms. Plumm?”
Dylan slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell me about it.” He was a shadow among shadows, eyes gleaming as he stared more intently than the ravens.
“I planted a giant sequoia once.” Memories emerged from her data banks, as palpable as the moments when they happened. “From seed to sapling to fully grown tree, I kept watch. I checked in, studied its growth as the years passed and I went through several manifestations. I watched as it towered toward the sky, forming an ecosystem of its own which supported a diverse amount of insect and animal species. I came back time after time, until a millennium passed. The entire world changed, but the tree was still there, a king among kings, pressing on to eternity.”
“And then one day you returned to find the tree gone,” Guy said.
Dylan nodded.
“They cut it down, didn’t they?”
Dylan looked into the distance as the memory resurfaced. “They cut down the entire forest.”
Guy shook his head. “Such a simple statement. Yet somehow it epitomizes the very spirit of humanity. The exact same sentiment dominated my world. The same destructive greed reduced it to ash and darkness.”
She looked at him. “You don’t like them, do you?”
His face was expressionless. “No.”
“Then why do you do it? Why protect them?”
He raised the mug to his lips. “Because I’m exceedingly good at following orders.”
“That’s all? That’s your answer?”
He exhaled softly. “We can’t all be kings, Ms. Plumm. As you know very well, some of us must be foot soldiers. There is a more to it, of course. A distinctively valid reason for my role in this travesty. I’m afraid I’m not willing to reveal everything about myself.” A small smile touched his lips. “Unless you’re willing to do the same.”
Dylan did not immediately respond. She analyzed the entire conversation, compiled data and predicted various outcomes. “You want me to help you.”
A raven cawed loudly. Its call was answered by its brethren, thousands of raucous cries exploded from the birds and echoed through the darkened forest. The noise went on, as though the ravens were trying to make up for their earlier silence.
Guy raised a finger toward the branches. “They want you to help me.”
“Do what?”
“Save their world.” Guy steepled his fingers. “You’ve personally experienced how Chimera operates. They have an agenda, one they value so highly that they’re willing to unleash mercenary units in broad daylight on the city streets in order to protect their interests. They are so fixated on capturing this source of energy that they are blind to the associated dangers. Opening a doorway to my dimension will unleash forces so destructive it’s beyond imagining. When that happens, the forest gets cut down again, Ms. Plumm. This time you get to do something about it.”
She shook her head. “You’re talking about completely altering the face of this world. That goes far beyond the parameters of my mission. That’s not what I’m here to do.”
The ravens cawed as though mocking her. Guy gave her a knowing smile. “You can’t spend millennia among a people without forming some sort of attachment, Ms. Plumm. You brought up emotion earlier. The mere fact you would mention it indicates that at some level you understand it. You’ve…developed it. Absorbed it into your system despite any notions of detachment. That tree you planted. It meant something to you. All the memories you’ve absorbed: they mean something to you. This world means something to you.”
“I have my orders,” she said. “I have a role to play. Like you said, we can’t all be kings.”
“You have your orders,” he said. “You keep watch. I understand that. You keep watch, you transmit, you experience. You keep watch.” He smiled. “And sometimes you act.”
Dylan shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but you do. You’ve intervened before. Like in London, near the turn of the twentieth century. 1888, to be exact. Does that ring any bells?”
Dylan remained silent.
“It should. It was a year to be remembered, and it has been to this day. It’s not every year someone as infamous as Jack the Ripper is born, is it?”
He flicked a coin on the table. It spun for a long time. Dylan recognized the alternating faces of the 1888 sovereign coin: Queen Victoria on one side, and on the other a depiction of St. George and the Dragon.
Guy spoke softly. “You were ‘observing’ from the role of a prostitute named Sally, if I’m not mistaken. That put you close to the plight of the victims. Did your time in that role make you empathetic to those used and battered women, Ms. Plumm? Did you grow to care for them? Or were they mere numbers, statistics you tallied up as either acceptable losses or not?”
Dylan studied him. “You were the Ripper. You murdered those women, didn’t you?”
The sun went missing. The resulting darkness transformed the forest into something raw and ethereal as the brush crackled from nocturnal footpads. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. The ravens cackled as though appreciating the sound.
“Murder?” Guy’s silhouetted figure tilted its head slightly. “You know as well as I what those women had become.”
Dylan exhaled into the chilly air. “Monsters. They turned into some sort of twisted creatures.”
“Others,” Guy said. “As we refer to them. In a rather ingenious scheme, one of the Others infiltrated the barrier. It sought to spread its corruptive influence though sexual interaction. Prostitutes were an obvious choice. They were widely abundant and could have quickly and easily spread the infection across the city. The good people of London would have experienced grotesque transformations in no time. Widespread panic would have occurred, and the entire city would have been overrun by the monstrosities.”
“But you stopped the possibility of infection by killing the hosts.”
He shrugged. “What was I to do? You know what I was up against. I may have killed the infected, but it was you who removed their organs, wasn’t it?”
Blood slicked her arms as she removed the steaming kidney from Catherine Eddowe’s freshly slain body and placed it in a glass container for later examination. She paid no heed to the grisly stab wounds or the rank, clotted stench of death. She had to work quickly. It was only a matter of time before the body was discovered…
Dylan shifted on the bench. “I wanted to know. I suspected there was more to the killings, but needed additional information. My intricate knowledge of human physiology gave me an advantage the investigators of that time did not possess. The autopsies I performed revealed a new and frightfully aggressive virus had infected those women.”
“Then you butchered your own work to make it seem like the mindless mutilation of a depraved killer. Rather gruesome, that.”
“They were already dead,” Dylan said. “You know because you killed them.”
Guy made a circular gesture. “And so it goes. But you did more than that, Ms. Plumm, didn’t you?”
Dylan remained silent.
“I left the last one for you,” he continued. “I’d ascertained someone else was investigating the killings. Someone smarter than the police. It wasn’t hard to find out who you were. I was watching you, even as you searched for me. I wanted to see what you would do. I left enough clues for you to figure out who the last infected girl was.” He paused “You know who I’m talking about.”
“Mary Jane Kelly,” she whispered.
He nodded. “After Annie Chapman I realized I was chasing the symptoms. I needed to find the source, the creature responsib
le for the infection. I was so caught up that I nearly missed Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes. Had to take both of them down in one night. You know that because you did Ms. Eddowe’s quick autopsy, removing her kidney and uterus for inspection. But you didn’t get a chance to investigate Ms. Stride’s corpse, did you?”
“I didn’t have time,” Dylan said. The women’s dead, ghastly faces resurfaced from her memory banks. “I didn’t realize two women were killed that night.”
“Which left only Mary Jane Kelly.” The darkness had swallowed Guy’s face completely, leaving it a shadowy blur. “Lovely girl, wasn’t she?”
Dylan recalled Mary Jane’s beguiling smile, the perfect ginger shade of her long wavy hair, her green eyes that sparkled with when the light struck them. In Dylan’s form of Sally the prostitute, she had shared street corners with Mary Jane, split meager meals of oily stew, consoled the tears of her sometimes companion after she had been abused by another brutal customer. “Yes, she was.”
“Until you saw. You witnessed what the virus did to her.”
What had been Mary Jane Kelly whirled around, lank twisted locks of oily black hair flailed across its face, if a face it could still be called. It was more a misshapen lump of raw sentient meat, its mouth a phlegm-coated cavity lined with jagged tusks. The thing shrieked as it lunged with claw-tipped, elongated fingers…
“Yes.” The memory was still jarring. The complete distortion of face and limbs was impossible for any virus. “It was…inhuman. Something not of this earth at all. There was no logical explanation, nothing my compilation of data could have anticipated or even rationalize. I could only react.”
“And you reacted by killing her. It was the only rational thing to do. The only option that would prevent a widespread infection. You didn’t just watch, Ms. Plumm. You didn’t simply observe and report. You knew what needed to be done and you did it. And I simply can’t believe that moment was the one and only time you acted outside of your parameters.”
Dylan remained silent.
“And after the monster reverted back to human form after dying, you spent much more time with the autopsy. You needed to prove what happened had some rational explanation. But there were no logical answers. What you witnessed could not be explained. You had to mutilate your work and leave it to the legend of Jack the Ripper.”
“But you caught the original host of the virus,” Dylan said. “You put an end to it.”
He nodded. “Your intervention pulled the Other out of the shadows. You see, it was watching you too. It and I had been playing cat and mouse the entire time, but I could never precisely nail down its location. I caught sight of it trailing you after the Mary Jane killing. After that, it was only a matter of takedown. Of course by then the Ripper persona had been created by newspapers trying to drive their sales. Copycat murderers sprang up and dissipated. But the main thing is that London was spared an infection which would have wiped it off the map and very possibly spread to other cities. And you had a hand in that, Ms. Plumm.”
“Which was…a mistake,” she said. “There are repercussions to consider.”
Light bloomed from inside the cottage as the power from the solar generator cranked on. Shadows were shoved backward, yet the Blurred Man remained nearly indiscernible. The ravens that had overrun the trees had vanished completely, gone without a rustle of a feather to mark their passing.
“Inaction is the only mistake, Ms. Plumm,” Guy said. “You unwittingly helped me then because you knew it was the right thing to do. All I’m asking now is you consider the current situation. It’s not a single tree that’s in jeopardy here, Ms. Plumm. The entire forest is at risk.”
“You’ve had help in the past. From your own kind, I’ve seen the photos. More than one blurred face.”
“True.” Guy raised an eyebrow. “But it’s hard to remain alive in this type of work, I’m afraid. The mortality rate is quite high, and unfortunately not everyone was as resilient as I have been.”
He placed a cell phone and a flash drive on the table next to the antique coin. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Ms. Plumm. I’m aware of that. But realize this: what I’m facing now is much worse than that little London situation. What Chimera proposes to do will open a Threshold and allow the Others complete access to this world. You have the option of doing nothing, that’s your right. Just as it’s your right to casually observe the end of this world.” He gazed intently at her. “Perhaps that is what you desire. Perhaps like me, you’re just waiting for your assignment to finally end.”
Dylan looked at the objects. “What are these for?”
“On the drive is information about the energy signatures Chimera has been chasing. Far more detailed than what they already have. You start leaking that and they will be sure to come to you. You’ll be able to infiltrate their organization and work your way into their secure circle. You can do the most damage from there, should you so choose.”
“Where will you be?”
Guy stood up and stretched. Although he was of average height and weight, his body was lined with lean muscle, as though fashioned by a bodybuilder’s dream. “I’ll have infiltrated another way. Chimera leans heavily on mercenary teams to do their dirty work. My experience will allow me to work my way into their ranks. By the time they ready their expedition, I’ll be on the team.”
Dylan let the phone and flash drive remain on the table. “I can’t promise you anything. You know that, don’t you?”
“I understand.” Guy turned and strode toward the woods. “You have to compile data. Analyze all possible outcomes. Check with your superiors, perhaps. Take your time, Ms. Plumm. You may stay here as long as you wish. No one will bother you.”
“You’re leaving already?”
Guy’s disembodied voice drifted from the shadows. “It’s like I told you. My work is never finished. Farewell, Ms. Plumm.”
The woods exploded with the harsh cries of a thousand raven tongues. The myriad sound of fluttering wings swept through the forest like a rushing wind. The forest grew hushed after the sounds faded, leaving Dylan alone with her conflicting thoughts.
Three months later
Dylan Plumm was for all intents and purposes a dead woman. Another star on an agency wall, another unsolved mystery to drive her former superiors mad. A new woman emerged from the gestation pod in the new safe house. She was shorter than Dylan, her body more sinuously curved than the slender FBI agent. Her wavy hair was the perfect shade of ginger; her green eyes sparkled when the light struck them.
Yet Dylan still existed, reduced to data stored in the new woman’s memory core. Her FBI career, her life, and most importantly her encounter with the Blurred Man remained intact, digitally logged along with thousands of other lives and personas she lived in the past.
“Welcome back,” Chip said. The synthetic assistant hovered above the pod, humming quietly. “I see you’ve chosen the alias of Mary Jane Kelley, a thermodynamic physicist. Interesting name choice.”
“I find it appropriate,” Mary Jane said.
“How so?”
“It was before your time, Chip. The name and form is to honor someone I knew a long time ago, although I’m sure I will miss being Dylan Plumm. How are things progressing with the alias insertion?”
Chip’s beacon lit up, projecting a holographic screen scrolling with data. “As you directed, I took one of your stock aliases and activated it when you retired to begin your metamorphosis. Since then I’ve been hard at work implanting you into the infrastructure of society.”
Mary Jane absorbed the flickering data and pictures, downloading the new personality profile into her memory core in seconds. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Chip.”
The automaton buzzed in a pleased manner. “As you can see, after publishing your theories on a possible new energy source you are now the talk of the science community. Your face graces the Person of the Year cover of Time. Not bad for someone who didn’t exist ninety days ago.”
Mary Jane scanned the magazine’s interior. Inside was a lengthy article covering her research and reclusive personality. Her research was considered brilliant and remarkable. Her personal life was reportedly so cloistered that practically no details existed.
“Excellent idea to make me a reclusive enigma,” Mary Jane said. “No known friends or family, no social footprint. I’m sure that makes it easier for your work. This alias creation must become more difficult the more technology advances.”
Chip’s humming sounded distinctively smug. “Not so much. Actually the more humans lean on technology, the easier it is to create a history complete with full records of one’s existence. All I have to do is insert the data in the correct places.”
“That doesn’t make up for human memory,” Mary Jane said. “All this attention could be a slippery slope. More than a few people would recall a young lady this brilliant, no matter how reclusive she was.”
“And some people do. Or at least they believe so. I purposely created some high school and university photographs which resemble several other shy and introverted girls. Several people from those schools have already given interviews ‘recalling’ you as withdrawn, a loner, enigmatic, etc. I’m constantly amazed how easy it is for the human mind to fool itself.”
“The wonder of memory deception,” Mary Jane said. She flicked across the various screens. “My face seems to be everywhere in the media.”
“All the more to make you enticing,” Chip said. “Your beauty has Cover Girl desperate for an endorsement deal, and your research has attracted invitations from the most powerful organizations wanting to conference, share resources, or offer employment deals starting in the seven figures.”
Mary Jane enlarged the screen displaying a myriad of emails from various companies offering employment. One of the organizations was Chimera Global. She clicked on it.
“Excellent work, Chip. Keep at it. The more we cement my identity, the harder it will be to cross-examine it.”
The Blurred Man Page 4
