The Chemist

by Stephenie Meyer

  Alex had snuck Lola inside when Arnie left to go train with the other animals--she felt bad that they had to keep the door closed on the dogs; it seemed rude--and Einstein and Khan had come with her. Which made the room awkwardly full of dog. She hoped Arnie wouldn't be upset. The dogs must come in sometimes or there wouldn't be the doggie door in the laundry room. She didn't know if the dogs were usually kept outside as part of their training or as an early alarm system or because Arnie had allergies--though if it was the last option, he'd chosen the wrong lifestyle.

  Lola parked her floppy jowls and ears on Alex's thigh, where there would shortly be a drool situation, Alex was sure. Einstein jumped right up on the couch beside Daniel, tail waving enthusiastically at the rule breaking. Khan turned himself into a long ottoman in front of the couch. After the program's dull opening story--focused on politics, naturally, as if there weren't almost a year to go before anything actually happened--Daniel stretched his long legs out across Khan's back. Khan didn't seem to mind. Alex stroked Lola's ears, and Lola's tail thumped against the floor.

  It all felt comfortable and familiar, though she'd never been in a position like this in her entire life. She'd never been so closely surrounded by living things--touching them, hearing their breathing--let alone holding hands with a man who thought she was adorable... and lethal. That he could know her full story and still be able to look at her the way he did...

  Her eyes moved automatically to his face while the thought ran through her mind, and she found him looking at her, too. He smiled his wide, bright grin--the two days' stubble making him look unexpectedly rugged--and she smiled back without thinking about it. All kinds of bubbly emotions percolated through her chest, and she realized it was probably the best feeling she'd ever known.

  She sighed, then groaned.

  He glanced at the TV, looking for a reason, but it was just a commercial. "What is it?"

  "I feel goofy," she admitted. "Stupid. Bubbly. Why does everything seem so positive? I can't string logical thoughts together. I try to worry, and I end up smiling. I might be losing my mind, and I don't care about that nearly as much as I should. I want to punch myself, but my face is finally just starting to heal."

  Daniel laughed. "That's one of the drawbacks of falling in love, I think."

  Stomach tingles again. "Is that what you think we're doing?"

  "Feels like it to me."

  She frowned. "I don't have any comparisons. What if I'm actually going insane?"

  "You are most definitely sane."

  "But I don't believe people can fall in love so quickly." Truthfully, she didn't entirely believe in love, romantic love, at all. Chemical responses, sure; sexual attraction, yes. Compatibility, yes. Friendship. Loyalty and responsibility. But love just seemed a little too much of a fairy tale.

  "I... well, I never used to. I mean, I always believed in attraction at first sight. I've experienced that. And that's definitely a part of what's happening for me now." He grinned again. "But love at first sight? Just fantasy, I was sure."

  "Of course it is."

  "Except..."

  "There's no except, Daniel."

  "Except that something happened to me on that train, something totally outside of my experience or ability to explain."

  She didn't know what to say. She glanced at the TV just as the newscast's ending theme began to play.

  That caught Daniel's attention, too. "Did we miss it?"

  "No, it didn't run."

  "And that's not a good thing," he assumed, an edge creeping into his voice.

  "I can think of a couple different things it could mean. One, they pushed the story out, and when it didn't get results, they had to let it die. Two, the story is about to change."

  Daniel's shoulders squared defensively. "How soon do you think we'll see the next version?"

  "Very soon, if that's what's happening."

  There was a third possibility, but she wasn't ready to say it aloud. The story would definitely disappear if they'd gotten what they needed from it. If they had Kevin now.

  She thought she understood enough about Kevin's character to be fairly certain that he wouldn't give them up easily. He was smart enough to go with the most believable version of the story if the department caught him: He'd been too late to save Daniel, and--after killing the Oleander--he'd gone to DC for revenge. He'd be able to stick to that story for a while... she hoped. She didn't know who they had doing interrogations now. If that person was any good--well, eventually Kevin would tell the truth. As much as she wasn't Kevin's biggest fan, she felt sick for him now.

  Of course, he could have been prepared for capture, the way she would have been. He could be dead already.

  Batcave or no Batcave, if Kevin didn't call by midnight, it would be time to leave. She could feel when she was pushing her luck.

  Well, all the happy feelings had subsided. At least that was a sign that she wasn't totally crazy. Yet.

  They shooed the dogs out onto the porch before Arnie was due to come back, though the animal smell would probably give them away regardless. Daniel started a meat sauce for spaghetti, and she helped with the simple parts--opening cans, measuring spices. It was effortless and companionable working side by side, like they'd been doing this for years. Was that the feeling Daniel was talking about? The strange ease of their togetherness? Though she didn't believe his theory, she had to admit to herself that she had no explanation of her own.

  Daniel hummed as he worked, a familiar-sounding tune that she couldn't place at first. She caught herself humming along a few minutes later. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, Daniel started to sing the words.

  " 'Guilty feet have got no rhythm,'" he sang.

  "Isn't that song older than you are?" she asked after a moment.

  He seemed surprised. "Oh, was I singing that out loud? Sorry, I tend to do that when I cook if I don't keep a strict hold on myself."

  "How do you even know the words?"

  "I'll have you know that to this day, 'Careless Whisper' remains a very popular song on the karaoke circuit. I kill it on eighties night."

  "You're into karaoke?"

  "Hey, who says schoolteachers don't know how to party?" He stepped away from the stove, sauce-covered spoon still in his right hand, and pulled her into a loose embrace with his left. He danced her once around a small circle, pressing his rough cheek against hers, while singing, " 'Pain is ah-all you'll find...'" Then he turned back to the stove, dancing in place while he sang cheerfully about how he was never going to dance again.

  Don't be an idiot, her mind told her as the goofy smile stretched across her face again.

  Shut up, her body responded.

  Daniel didn't have a voice that belonged on the air, but it was a pleasant, light tenor, and he made up for any deficiencies with his enthusiasm. By the time they heard the dogs greet Arnie at the door, they were in the middle of a passionate duet of "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Alex quit singing immediately, her face flushing, but Daniel seemed oblivious both to her cowardice and to Arnie's entrance.

  " 'I really need you tonight!'" he belted out as Arnie came through the door, shaking his head. It made Alex wonder if Kevin was ever any fun or if it was just business all the time when he and Arnie were here alone.

  Arnie didn't comment, just shut the screen door behind him, letting the fresh warm air mix with the smells of garlic, onion, and tomato. Now that it was dark outside and light inside, she'd have to make sure he closed the exterior door before she or Daniel went into the part of the room that would be visible to anyone watching.

  "Anything from the dogs?" she asked Arnie.

  "Nope. You would have heard them if they'd found anything."

  She frowned. "The story didn't run."

  Alex and Arnie exchanged a look. Arnie's eyes cut to Daniel's back, then returned to her. She knew what he was asking, and she shook her head no. No, she hadn't talked to Daniel about Kevin and what his silence could mean. Arnie's eyes did that sub
tle tightening thing that seemed to be his only physical tell for stress.

  For Arnie's sake, they'd have to get out as soon as possible. If anyone connected Daniel and Alex to this house, it would put Arnie in danger. She hoped he would understand about the truck.

  Dinner was subdued. Even Daniel seemed to catch the mood. She decided she would tell him her fears about Kevin as soon as they were alone. It would be nice to allow him one more night of decent sleep, but they should probably leave before first light.

  After they were finished--and not a noodle had survived; Arnie would miss this part of having houseguests, at least--she helped clear while Arnie went to turn on the news. The story lineup was repetitively familiar. She felt like she could recite along with the anchorwoman word for word. Arnie hadn't already watched three rounds today; he settled into the couch.

  Alex rinsed the plates and handed them to Daniel to load. One of the dogs whined through the screen door; probably Lola. Alex hoped she hadn't spoiled them too much this afternoon. She'd never thought she was a dog person, but she realized she was going to miss the warm and friendly inclusion of the pack. Maybe someday--if Kevin was somehow still alive and well and the plan was operable after all--she might get herself a dog. If all the happy thoughts were real, maybe Kevin would even sell her Lola. It probably wasn't a practical--

  A low, fast thud interrupted her thoughts--it was a sound that didn't belong. Even as her eyes were moving toward Daniel, looking for a dropped utensil or a slammed cupboard that would explain the noise, her mind was leaping ahead. Before her body had realigned with her brain, a huge baying cry erupted from the porch, along with a vicious growling. Another thud, quieter beside the hullabaloo of the dogs, and the baying broke off into a shocked and pained yelp.

  She tackled Daniel to the ground while he was still turning toward the door. He outweighed her by a lot, but he was off balance and went down easy.

  "Shhh," she hissed fiercely in his ear, then she crawled over him to the edge of the island and peered around. She couldn't see Arnie. She looked at the screen door--a small round hole was torn through the center of the top panel. She tried to listen over the sound of the dogs and the TV, but she couldn't hear any sound from where Arnie should be.

  It had to be a distance shot or the dogs would have seen it coming.

  "Arnie!" she hoarsely whisper-shouted.

  There was no response.

  She slithered to the dining-room table, where her backpack was propped against the leg of the chair she'd used. She ripped her PPK out of its Ziploc bag, then slid it across the floor to Daniel. She needed both hands.

  Daniel snagged the gun when it was halfway to the island and leaned around the edge. He hadn't practiced with a handgun, but at this distance that wouldn't matter terribly much.

  She shoved her rings on and flung the belt around her waist.

  Daniel was on his feet in a fraction of a second, bracing his elbows on top of the counter. He didn't look at all conflicted about his ability to fire. She scuttled to the nearby wall where the dining room jutted out from the great room. As she moved, she saw a hand shoving the handle down--but it wasn't a hand. It was a black furry paw.

  So Kevin had chosen not to go with the standard round doorknob for more reasons than aesthetics.

  She breathed again as Einstein burst into the room, Khan and the Rottweiler close on his heels. She could hear Lola panting pained cries outside, and her teeth ground together.

  While the dogs congregated silently around Daniel, forming a furry shield, she got her fighting shoes on and shoved the garrote wire into one pocket, the wooden handles into the other.

  "Give the command," she whispered to Daniel.

  The shooter would be running in now, though he would have to be on the lookout for the dogs. If he had the option, he'd switch the distance rifle for something that made bigger holes. Dogs like these would keep coming through a lot of hurt.

  "Escape protocol?" Daniel whispered uncertainly.

  Einstein's ears quivered. He gave a quiet cough of a bark, then trotted to the far end of the kitchen and whined.

  "Follow him," Alex instructed Daniel. She darted across the space between the wall and the island, keeping herself in a low crouch.

  Daniel started to straighten, but before she could say anything, Einstein hurtled over and caught Daniel's hand in his mouth. He yanked Daniel back to the ground.

  "Keep low," she translated in a whisper.

  Einstein led them toward the laundry room, as Alex had expected, with Khan and the Rottweiler bringing up the rear. As she ducked from the great room to the darkened hallway, she tried to see Arnie. She could see only one hand at first, unmoving, but then she spied splatter against the far wall. It was obvious that there was brain matter mixed in with the blood. So there was no point in trying to drag him with them. It was too late for Arnie. And the shooter was obviously a marksman. The good news just kept coming.

  Alex was surprised when Einstein stopped short of the laundry room and pawed at a closet in the hall. Daniel pulled the door open, and Einstein jumped past him and tugged at something inside. Alex crept closer just as a weighty pile of fur fell out on top of her.

  "What is this?" Daniel breathed in her ear.

  She felt her way through the pile. "I think it's a fur coat--but there's something else. It's too heavy..." She ran her hands quickly over the coat, along the sleeves; there was something stiff and rectangular under the fur. She stuck her hand inside the sleeve, trying to understand what she was examining. Finally, her fingers made sense of it. She wasn't sure she would have put it together if she hadn't recently cut Kevin out of a Batsuit.

  Einstein pulled another dense bulk of fur down on them.

  "They're lined in Kevlar," she whispered.

  "We should put them on."

  Alex struggled into hers as she worked through it in her head. The Kevlar made sense, but why the cumbersome fur? Had Kevin trained the dogs during cold weather? Was this just preparation for the elements? Did it even get that cold here? But as she yanked up the arms--too long, of course--to free her hands, she saw how Daniel's coat was blending into Einstein's fur so that she couldn't see where one stopped and the other began. Camouflage.

  The coat even had a Kevlar-lined hood, which she pulled over her head. Now she and Daniel were just two more furry shapes in the darkness.

  Einstein went directly through the doggie door at the far end of the laundry room, and Daniel went right after. She could feel Khan's heat close behind her. She got through the door and saw Einstein pulling Daniel back down as he tried to rise into a crouch.

  "Crawl," she explained.

  It was frustratingly slow; the coat got heavier and hotter with every foot she gained, and the gravel was like knifepoints under her palms and knees. Once they got onto the stubbly grass, it was a little less painful, but she was so impatient with the pace that she barely noticed. She worried, as Einstein led them toward the outbuilding where the dogs lived, that he was trying to take them to the truck that she'd instructed Arnie to move. But the truck wasn't such a great escape. The shooter might be holding his position, just waiting for someone to try to drive out on the only road. Or this could be a new variation, where the shooter had friends to sweep the house and flush his victims out while he waited.

  She could hear the restive dogs penned in the outbuilding ahead, none of them happy with what was happening. They'd made it three-fourths of the way when another sharp thud kicked a cloud of dirt into her face. Einstein barked sharply, and Alex heard one of the dogs behind her thunder off from their little pack, growling in a low bass. The heavy sound of his paws combined with his compact stride made her sure it must be the Rottweiler. Another thud, farther out, but the growling didn't change tempo. She heard something, maybe a muffled curse, and then a hail of bullets rattled out from what was most definitely not a sniper rifle. Her muscles tensed, even as she crawled as quickly as she could in Daniel's wake, waiting for the inevitable sound of the Rott
weiler's yelps. The sound didn't come, but the growling vanished. Tears pricked her eyes.

  Khan moved into position at her side--the shooter's side--and she saw Einstein was providing the same protection to Daniel. Kevin had said the dogs would give their lives for Daniel, and they were proving it. It would probably irk Kevin to know they were doing the same for her.

  Kevin. Well, the odds were now better that he was alive. The news broadcasts hadn't cut off because the Agency had found Kevin but because they'd successfully located Daniel.

  They made the outbuilding. She crawled gratefully into the obscuring dark. The dogs inside were whining and barking anxiously. Fighting the heavy mass of the lined coat, she struggled to her feet, still bent over but able to move faster. Daniel copied her, keeping an eye on Einstein to see if he would insist they get back down. Einstein wasn't paying attention to Daniel at the moment, though. Both he and Khan were doing a stuttering race down the line of kennels, stopping at each door and then bounding to the next. At first she wasn't sure if she was supposed to run, too, but then she realized what they were doing. The closest kennels swung open, then the following set. Kevin had taught his prize pupils how to open the kennels from the outside.

  The freed dogs were immediately silent. The first pair was a matched set of standard German shepherds. The two dogs raced out the barn door, heading north. Before they were out of sight, three Rottweilers sprinted past her toward the south. A lone Doberman followed, then a quartet of German shepherds, each group heading in a different direction. The dogs started flooding out of the building so quickly that she lost count entirely. Easily more than thirty animals, though some of them were still very young. Part of her wanted to cheer, Tear 'em up, boys! while the other part wanted to tell them, Be careful! She saw Lola's pups run past, and her eyes teared again.

  In the dark night, someone shouted in panic. Gunfire, then screaming. A tight, mirthless smile stretched her lips.

  But it wasn't entirely good news. She heard shots from another direction. Definitely multiple attackers.

  "Gun?" she whispered to Daniel. He nodded and pulled it out from the waist of his jeans. He offered it to her. She shook her head. She'd just wanted to know he hadn't dropped it. She was dripping sweat inside the thick fur. She pushed back the hood and wiped her forearm across her forehead.