Hybrid Zone Recognition (12 page)

Chapter 8

A
n hour and a half
later, I sat, staring off into space and drumming my fingers on the table. “I don’t understand,” I said to myself. Thankfully, the other scientists had already vacated the lab, and I was alone with my muttering.

Alone and stunned on many levels.

I shrugged the lab coat off and threw it over the chair next to me. Lacing my fingers together behind my head, I leaned back against my seat and began to sort through what I had read.

Part of the report contained information I already knew. I was already familiar with the new RNA discovered that was responsible for the cellular machinery allowing for the seamless insertion of animal DNA into the human DNA strand. That was how all the hybrids I had been studying were created.

What was new to me was the introduction of nanobots into the process. The inclusion of nanobots revolutionized the creation of hybrids. It allowed for rapid bodily transformations in both directions. Changes such as eye re-contouring and bone reconstruction happened in a matter of seconds or minutes, depending on what was being transformed. It was shape shifting in a purely mechanical definition but on an astronomical cellular scale.

There was also a brief mention of nanobots altering brain wavelengths which allowed for hybrids bearing the same nanobots to establish an as yet undefined mental connection. Hollins had not seen fit to include any in depth explanation beyond the results achieved, an oversight I would have to correct.

But in general, the sheer scope of the strides they had made in this area were truly staggering, and to me, as a scientist, breathtaking. I presumed this was not the part the Director had a problem with. That was probably the last file outlining the impending epidemic of hybrid change about to sweep the earth.

I also thought it odd that I had to wade through all of the other reports before getting to the one report I was supposedly brought here for. It appeared to be another delaying tactic imposed by Hollins. I had yet to conclude that Hollins wanted the crisis to develop to its full potential, but it sure was looking that way.

According to the report, the crisis owed its origin to bacteria’s prolific skill at horizontal gene transfer having combined with the carelessness of the Agency’s scientists. Every hybrid gene the Agency had created had been transplanted into bacteria for study and experimentation. That in and of itself was not unusual. What did not compute was that the scientists working with them had been so careless as to spread every single strain of the altered bacteria outside of the lab environment.

Now, the bacteria had taken on a life of their own and begun to acquire even more abilities. The hybrid combinations that could possibly be produced as a result were truly horrifying to consider.

This crisis was serious enough to warrant any and all attempts at stopping it. But by the Agency’s own account, the bacteria had surpassed all attempts at containment. Since the attempts made were not described, I couldn’t attest to the legitimacy of their efforts.

In any case, the failure of their efforts spoke for itself. Most of the scientists working here and some of their family members were testing positive for one or more bacteria containing the hybrid traits. It was only a matter of time before the traits started manifesting.

What I didn’t understand was why they needed me. The scientists working on this would have been as familiar, if not more so than me, with this material.

“They should have known how to fix this,” I grumbled. “It’s not even that hard.”

They only needed to construct a nanobot kill switch. The nanobots could be reprogrammed with a chemical sensitivity or vulnerability to a certain radio frequency so that when they came into contact with it, they would self-destruct. The nanobots were already Wi-Fi enabled, so reprogramming wouldn’t be that hard.

Hollins ought to have been able to end this crisis before it even got started. A protocol for just such an occurrence should have already existed. It would have existed if I were running the show.

But, beyond that, the likelihood of scientists not following protocol and that every hybrid gene had somehow escaped the lab had to fall somewhere below zero. It simply did not add up.

Spotting a telephone, I pulled Olivia’s card from my pocket. She needed to know about this ASAP.

I slid from my chair and started towards the phone. Before I had made it three steps, I was plunged into total darkness.

“What now,” I moaned softly.

I waited for a backup generator to kick on, but no orange emergency lights appeared. I was alone, in absolute darkness, in a top secret lab for hybrid development, from which mutant bacteria had escaped containment. That wasn’t scary at all.

“Get out of the dark and creepy lab, Macy,” I hummed softly to myself.

Why was it that whenever the lights went out, when there was no apparent reason for the outage, horror films started scrolling through your brain? I didn’t even watch horror movies, regardless of the inclusion of food, and even I knew what happened to the lone girl when the lights went out. I was not going to be that girl.

Forcing myself to act, I reached back, making contact with the lab table. I grasped it and began inching my way backwards. As soon as my back pressed against the table, I turned and crouched behind it. I didn’t know why. It seemed like the thing to do, to make myself as small a target as possible.

Once the momentary panic subsided, my mind kicked into overdrive. It was only ten in the morning, so it couldn’t be an automatic lights out situation. It couldn’t be a motion sensor scenario because I had moved, and the lights were out in the hall too. The backup generator was offline, which to me said this was not a glitch in the system. It was a darkness initiated with purpose.

Whatever the purpose, I really hoped it didn’t concern me. I wasn’t conceited enough to think that everything revolved around me, but lately, it seemed like the off the wall, movie quality stuff kept happening to me.

I never knew my life as a scientist would lead me from one terrifying episode to the next. But since I’d joined the HCF, that was exactly how it had been.

Seriously rethinking that decision right now.

Crouching underneath the desk, I realized I had another decision to make. My choices were walking into the unknown or sitting duck. Seemed sort of familiar, except the last time would have been walking into a bullet.

Maybe the blackout had nothing to do with me at all, and I’d be perfectly safe where I was. The first rule about getting lost was to stay put and wait for rescue, right?

A loud crash sounded at the other end of the lab, echoing throughout the room. That was all the convincing I needed. I wasn’t a coward, but I wasn’t stupid either. Decision made, I moved.

I sort of bear crawled towards the nearest door. Again, I didn’t know why, it just felt right.

I made it to the door and slid my hand up its face to find the door handle already turning. Pulling my hand back quickly, I scooted back as quietly as I could and took shelter underneath the lab table again.

I could still hear someone slowly coming closer from the far end of the lab. Or maybe something. I thought I could hear what sounded like claws clacking against the floor.

Knowing my eyes would not be adjusting to this darkness, I closed them and listened instead. Whatever it was coming towards me, it was methodically searching the room.

Focusing on the door, I strained to hear whoever was coming in there. My plan was to sneak by them with me exiting as they entered. I heard the small click of the door handle and as stealthily as possible, I started edging in a wide circle back towards the door.

My eyes flew open as my mouth and nose were engulfed by a large hand and an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backwards. Before I could offer any resistance, the smell of campfire and fruit washed over me. The fear that had seized me gave way to relief, and I relaxed against Catman.

He slowly lowered his hand and brought his mouth to my ear. “We have to get you out of here,” he breathed.

I silently nodded, and he began to lead me backwards. Since we weren’t bumping into things, I was guessing one of his abilities included being able to see in the dark.

I jumped at the sudden scraping sound off to our left. It still sounded far off, but the fact that it was there at all was way too close for me.

“It doesn’t have enhanced senses,” Catman whispered to me, essentially confirming that it was a something and not a someone.

The more I tried not to think about what was making the noise, the more it kept popping into my head. My mind kept conjuring claws, attached to very nasty things, scraping against the tile floor. Thank goodness Catman was solid against my back. I didn’t think I would have been so calm if he wasn’t there.

We reached the back of the lab and Catman stopped and began working on something attached to the wall.

Even though I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t look away from the direction of my stalker. Was that slobbering? I reached back, placing a hand on Catman’s back. Just being in contact with him made me feel safer.

In an effort to change the direction of my thoughts, I focused on him. He must have changed his clothes. It felt like he had on a t-shirt. I could feel his muscles working under the fabric. Yes, these were much nicer thoughts.

He leaned in, putting his mouth next to my ear again. “Go straight until you come to the first branch to the right. Take it and keep going. No matter what, keep going. I’ll be right behind you.”

Before I could ask where I was going, he pulled me in front of him and placed my hands on the edge of an entrance. Sliding my hands around, I measured the dimensions at about two by three feet. The cool air rushing past me indicated it was an air shaft. It seemed I’d only delayed my daring escape via the ventilation system.

“Get moving, Greer,” he commanded and lifted me into the shaft.

I noted the strain in his voice. I didn’t think it was from lifting me. Not wanting to add to his distress, I swallowed my protest of his handling of me. Keeping my shoulder tightly pressed against the side, so that I wouldn’t miss the branch he’d specified, I started forward. But I hesitated when I heard the vent cover being reattached to the wall. So much for right behind me.

Surely, he wouldn’t have stayed behind unless he knew what he was doing. I guessed it would be pointless to argue with him. For one, it would only draw attention to us, and two, he was the man with the plan to get me out of here. I was just the scientist trying not to get killed.

“Get moving, Greer,” I mimicked in my head as I started forward again. He could use a little more finesse. I swung my head side to side in disbelief of my own criticism. I couldn’t believe I’d just thought something Olivia would have said. Who was I to fault anyone for being direct? As long as he got me out alive, I would not hold it against him.

My heart sank at the sudden sounds of fighting that reverberated through the shaft. The stark realization that I’d left Catman behind to engage whatever had been in the lab with us felt like a lead balloon in my stomach. I wasn’t one to run from a fight, and I sure as heck didn’t expect anyone to sacrifice themselves for me. I was torn between going back and going forward.

“Get moving, Greer!” Catman’s snarl thundered through the shaft.

“Guess that answers that,” I mumbled.

He must be equipped with super hearing, too. How else would he have known that I had stopped? I was pretty far into the shaft already. But obviously, not far enough for him.

This time I moved quickly, racing to outpace the sounds of fighting. I refused to stop, even though I wanted to. I leaned hard into the shaft, nearly bowling over when my shoulder came up against nothing. I’d arrived at the branch with still no sign of Catman and no more echoes for company.

I briefly toyed with the idea of waiting for him, but he seemed pretty adamant that I keep moving. I didn’t know what I was worried about, anyway. He could probably take care of himself.

Moreover, nothing else had joined me in the shaft. So either Catman had defeated the nameless beast, or they were both grievously wounded or dead. Geesh, I needed to stop scaring myself with reality.

Racing against some unknown clock set by Catman, I took the right and went about five feet when the tunnel begin to descend. At first, the decline was gentle, allowing me to continue head first. But soon enough, I had to switch to a feet first position in order to accommodate the steepening shaft. This resulted in me partially sliding, partially crab walking.

I was getting my fill of animal impersonations today.

The high heeled boots were not an asset for controlling the rate of descent, either. I was sure I probably sounded like an elephant tromping across the ceiling, especially when my left heel caught, flipping me onto my stomach.

Without any resistance, my speed picked up tremendously. Gone was my controlled slide. In fact, it seemed the material my suit was made of acted like a lubricant aiding my downhill plunge. If I stuck my arms out now, I thought there was a good chance of breaking them, so I tucked my face into my forearms and let her rip.

I tried to keep myself relatively centered, but three feet didn’t leave much room for error. Being that it was also still dark as night, I basically bounced from one side to the other.

I really hoped this didn’t dump me into some cavern. I momentarily considered trying to slow myself down again and even got as far as to place only my fingertips against the sides. The burning feeling that erupted at the points of contact abruptly ended that attempt.

I needn’t have worried. The shaft didn’t end. It leveled out and changed directions. I was summarily deposited headfirst into the wall when the shaft suddenly bent left.

“Didn’t see that coming,” I groaned as I struggled to sit up. Then I giggled. Pressing my hands tightly to my mouth, I tried to smother the errant sounds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that I might have a concussion, but it didn’t seem all that important. It seemed funny, and I collapsed in a bout of giggling.

As I lay there stunned by my impact and still consumed by the giggles, I mimed the roar of a crowd. “Greer wins the gold in shaft surfing. The crowd goes wild.”

I was relatively certain that I passed out after that.

When I came to my senses, I realized that I had my arms up like I had scored a touchdown. I frowned and lowered my arms. Touch downs had nothing to do with gold medals.

Sitting up, I became acutely aware of my pounding head. With my fingers, I gingerly probed the source of pain. Just as I suspected, I had a new knot to go with the existing one.