Authors: C. E. Martin
"Josie's dad was a clone of the Colonel," Jason offered. Both women looked over at him in surprise. "After you were petrified the second time, Dr. Guerrera."
"Petrified?" Javi asked.
Dr. Guerrera held up a hand. "Hold up—the second time?"
***
"Oh, that's hilarious!" Dr. Olson remarked, trying to keep from laughing. She quickly put a hand up to her mouth, to hide her smile. "I mean, I'm so sorry, Mark."
"Dr. King was adamant that we let her recover her memories at her own speed," Kenslir said, frowning more intensely than Laura had ever seen him frown before.
"And she doesn't remember a thing?"
"Her memories seem to end when she was first petrified in 1959—before I met her."
"And got her re-petrified," Laura said, again laughing. "She forgot a whole year—including you."
"Yes. Something to do with being petrified for so many years. Dr. King believes it is temporary."
Laura reached out and ran a fingernail down Mark's chest. "I guess this means you're on the market again."
Kenslir batted the hand away. "Dr. Olson-"
"Ow!" Laura said, holding her hand. "I'm not super strong anymore, Mark. You need to be careful. You might break me." She batted her eyes at Kenslir and made a seductive face.
Kenslir looked at his watch. "Doctor, the clock is ticking. We-"
Laura held a finger up to Kenslir's lips, quieting him. "He's a vampire. Sort of."
Kenslir stepped back, away from Laura. "Define
sort of
."
"Well, at a glance, even in jigsaw puzzle form, he does have the physiology of a vampire. But the blood I analyzed before we went in there... it's not right. It doesn't react to ultraviolet light like it should, nor do the cells seem to need any outside lifeforce. They're fully energized."
"Magic."
"Yep," Laura agreed. "That's why he glows green every time you touch him. By the way, when you dipped his head in the nitrogen—was that you showing off for the little lady?"
Kenslir frowned again. "How do we kill him?"
"I'm guessing the furnace will do it. Assuming that's ethical."
Kenslir raised an eyebrow in surprise.
The door to the refrigerated lab opened and Dr. Guerrera and Javi Wallach came out.
"Everything all right out here?" Dr. Guerrera asked.
Laura smiled broadly and stepped up close to Kenslir, looping one arm around his waist. "We're doing just great."
Kenslir stepped to the side, pulling free from the redhead. "Dr. Olson was just telling me that the subject has some vampiric characteristics, but not others."
"Like a chimera?" Dr. Guerrera asked. "Characteristics from more than one being?"
"Yes," Laura said, putting her hands in the pockets of her labcoat again. "A living, thinking, momentarily-not-breathing chimera we captured."
"Meaning?" Javi said.
"Meaning he's a prisoner," Dr. Olson said, smiling mischievously. "A prisoner we'll have to keep frozen. It's not like we can just execute him."
"What about interrogation?" Javi asked. "Can you do that?"
Kenslir looked at his watch. "Possibly. But not tonight. It's almost sunset and I need to join the surveillance team on Greenberg's apartment."
"Go right on, Marky," Laura said. "Dr. Guerrera can assist me in putting the rent-a-cop back in cold storage."
Kenslir started to object, but Javi cut him off. "That sounds like something I'm not qualified for. I'll tag along with you, Colonel."
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Dr. Guerrera said. "I should really monitor Dr. Olson's vitals as we get closer to midnight."
"What happens at midnight?" Javi asked.
"That's when we get to see if I'll stay a real girl," Laura said, smiling and winking at Kenslir.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"You know, you could be back at the hospital with your partner," Josie said, watching the small house three blocks away. She was on the highest level of a parking garage, holding a large spotting scope.
"I'd rather catch the bastard that did this to her," Alvarro Sierra said, shivering. Crouched beside Josie, he was using a pair of binoculars to occasionally watch the target house. He had a thin windbreaker on over a fresh shirt but was still cold in the night air.
"How are you not cold?" Alvarro asked. Josie was wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt and black fatigue pants with an assault vest covered in bulging pockets and pouches. She also had on a pair of tactical shooter's glasses pushed up on her forehead.
Josie smiled and pointed to a cup of coffee Alvarro had set on the low wall running around the top of the garage. It turned solid, ice crystals forming across its surface and down the sides. "I
am
cold."
"I was going to drink that," the detective said.
"There's more in the van."
Alvarro frowned and looked through the binoculars again, checking the street. They were east of the house, which fortunately was located on the edge of a subdivision with plenty of vantage points for he and Josie and the other surveillance teams to watch from.
"So," Alvarro said after a few minutes. "You and the werewolf?"
"Yep—much as my dear old grandpa hates it."
"Your grandfather knows about him?"
Josie laughed quietly. "The Colonel."
"The Colonel what?"
"The Colonel is my grandfather."
Alvarro thought she was joking for a moment. Then he looked closer at her jet black hair and her dark green eyes. Not as dark as the Colonel's, but still unusual enough to be more than a coincidence. Their faces weren't that close, but now that he knew, he could see the resemblance.
"What, he's a time traveler?" Alvarro would believe just about anything at this point. He'd seen a lot of weird shit on the force, but in the past twelve hours things had been revealed to him he never would have imagined.
"No," Josie said, laughing again. "At least, I don't think so. I don't know, though. We only met this year."
"Then how?"
"He's a lot older than he looks," Josie explained. "A
lot
older."
"But how did you not know him?"
"Funny story. Apparently, the government tried to make more soldiers like the Colonel—by cloning him. It didn't quite work out—they were just normal kids—and my dad ended up in the foster care system."
Alvarro tried to imagine an army of Mark Kenslirs. Not a reassuring thought—or was it? America might be a lot safer with an army of men like him. Even one or two could make a world of difference for Miami Metro.
"Are he and your dad close?"
"Nope," Josie said, her tone lowering and her face becoming somber for a moment. Alvarro knew he'd hit a nerve. "My dad died when I was very young. I barely knew him."
"Sorry."
"S'okay." Josie laughed. "You should have seen my mom's face when she met the Colonel."
"Clones, hunh?" Alvarro asked. "There a lot of them around?"
"More than you'd think."
CHAPTER NINE
Yadid Greenberg had lived a long full, life. Somehow, he'd defied all the odds in that life. He'd survived the concentration camps. He'd survived the Six Day War, defending a new Israel. And he'd managed to hunt the Nazi bastards that killed his family—in secret, without his amazing wife ever finding out. In fact, she'd gone to her grave never knowing her husband was a spy.
Before she'd passed, they'd retired together to Miami, settling in to enjoy their last few years together. As always, Yadid's luck had held and he'd remained healthy into his eighties, outliving his beloved wife. It had made him wonder if he was ever going to die.
On a cool December evening though, he was told death was a very real and imminent threat. Oddly, he hadn't felt relieved after all. He'd felt a little scared.
"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing without a husband?" Yadid asked the busty blonde seated across from him. She was the FBI agent who'd come to Yadid's home with a boy and whole team of agents to take him into protective custody just hours ago.
"I can't seem to find the right one," Pam Keegan said, finally making up her mind. She picked up her pawn and moved it two spaces forward.
The duo were seated in a lush apartment on an upper floor of Argon Tower—the Detachment's tall headquarters overlooking Biscayne Bay. When given this assignment, Pam had hoped it was because the Colonel was genuinely worried about her. But as many times as the old man across from her had peeked down her loose blouse, Pam knew Kenslir was just being clever again. Have a pretty girl watch an old man, and he wouldn't complain.
"I have a nice young nephew or two," Yadid said, considering the board. "I could give you their numbers."
Pam Keegan smiled. "That's very kind of you, Yadid, but I've never had trouble finding a man."
Yadid smiled, then moved a rook. "I can see that."
Pam laughed and took a sip of the diet soda she held in one hand. Her off-hand. She kept her right hand free, ready to quickdraw the pistol loaded with silver bullets she had on her right hip. They might be in one of the safest buildings on Earth, but Pam's gut was all twisted up. She could feel trouble coming.
"So who's the big klutz in the closet?" Yadid asked, sipping his tea.
Pam smiled, but wasn't surprised. You'd have to be deaf not to hear Jacob Isaacson moving around. The stone soldier was fidgety—eager to see some action.
"Just a little extra security for you, Yadid."
"He must be shy."
Pam smiled again. "We prefer for you only to see our prettiest faces."
"You have a pretty face?" Yadid asked. "I hadn't noticed."
Pam laughed out loud. "If only you were a little younger, Mr. Greenberg."
***
"Is this really necessary?" Laura Olson asked as Dr. King listened to her breathing through a stethoscope pressed against her back. "I feel ridiculous."
Laura, Dr. King, Jason and Dr Guerrera were all in a sub-basement vault, counting down the minutes to midnight. But where King and Guerrera and their young assistant had comfortable chairs, Laura was seated in a hard, metal-mesh chair placed in the middle of a small children's wading pool.
"If you do loose cohesion, we want to be able to recover all your ashes," Dr. King said, stepping out of the empty wading pool. "We can then reconstitute you again."
"Wow. Thanks. That's a great bedside manner you got there, Bill," Laura said. "Way to make a girl feel safe."
"We're in uncharted territory here, Dr. Olson," Dr. Guerrera said, adjusting one of three camcorders on tripods placed around the room to record the event. "Even during my tenure here at Argon, we never had an opportunity to evaluate the Fountain's curse to this degree."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to turn back to dust?" Laura said, glancing over at Jason. "Junior says I'm clean."
"There's always some kind of repercussion," Dr. Guerrera said. "And the lack of etheric energy in your body now is most troubling. You should be brimming with it, Doctor Olson."
"Oh, please—call me Laura."
"Dr. Olson, I assure you, if you do revert to ashen form, we will revive you in the morning," Dr. King said, again checking his watch. He motioned for Jason to step closer.
Laura swallowed, a bit nervous. "You really think that's possible? Powder is the same thing as twice dead?"
"Well, no," Dr. King said. "But the Fountain's curse has previously returned subjects to a state of death equal to that before their resurrection. And since you were ash-"
"I'll go back to ash," Laura finished. "Great. Just what I wanted to hear."
A thought seemed to occur to Dr. Olson. She abruptly stood up and stepped out of her heels.
"Laura?" Dr. Guerrera said. "Are you all right?"
"If I take a powder I don't want it—me—on these shoes. I paid good money for them. What if I scratch the leather?"
Laura reached down and set her shoes outside the wading pool, then began to unbutton her blouse. "And what's my critical mass? How much powder do you need to bring me back?"
"Dr. Olson, what are you doing?" Dr. King asked.
"This is a silk blouse, Bill. One of my favorites. I'm not ruining it."
Jason Trumball turned away, cheeks reddening. Olson didn't believe in bras.
Dr. Guerrera walked forward, stepping slowly over the edge of the wading pool and putting a hand on one of Laura's. "Doctor. Laura," she said calmly, almost in a whisper. "You'll be fine. Everything will work out."
Laura hesitated, her shirt half unbuttoned. "Mark always said the Fountain took back twice what it gives."
"You can't be double dead," Dr. Guerrera said.
"Go. Go!" Dr. King said as his watch alarm started to beep. He turned Jason Trumball around and pushed him toward Laura.
The young man reached out, apprehensively, and touched the redhead's back with one hand.
Laura Olson's eyes were watering now--she reached up and wiped away a tear. "Look, I'm melt-"
Her final one-liner was ended by an abrupt scream—a primal roar that welled up and out of her as blue and red lightning flashed from her back, arcing up and around Jason Trumball's arm like glowing snakes.