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Dr. Helmsby hoped Daniel could look past his hostility and discover all the subtle clues Helmsby had intentionally looped into their conversation. Nancy was the biggest clue.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the wall and thought about Morton’s welfare. The cat was resourceful, but even he couldn’t survive the new denaturing weapon Idris’ men carried unless he had the antidote.
The DNA denaturer was the product Helmsby formulated after six intense years of scientific research and development. He never thought it might be something used to kill his beloved cat. The first three years of research were done while he lived inside the research center basement trying to figure out how to eradicate the shifters. Had he completed it then, they could have wiped out the shifter packs in a matter of months.
Before General Norhaney’s unfortunate death due to congested heart failure, he persuaded Congress to grant several million dollars to TransGenCorp to ensure the completion of Helmsby’s DNA denaturing serum. After receiving the grants and better lab equipment, Helmsby succeeded.
Three months earlier, Helmsby remembered, the power shifted in both Congress and the military. Each greeted Idris secretly with open arms, pardoned the charges against him, and gave him back a prominent role at TransGenCorp, which sadly gave him authority over Helmsby.
When knowledge of the corrupt changeover reached Helmsby, he stormed out of the facility, outraged. Three days later, Nancy vanished. Her disappearance was followed by a series of threats on her life should he refuse to return to TransGenCorp. At first he thought the threats were a sick prank until the digital pictures of Nancy arrived in his inbox. His return to TransGenCorp didn’t free her. It imprisoned him.
Helmsby had not seen her during the past three months. He wasn’t sure she was still alive. After repeated denials for them to fulfill their promise to release her, he decided it was time to botch the shifter data or somehow leak to the media that the man responsible for the Pittsburgh missile attack was again the man presiding over TransGenCorp. Idris. Once he figured out a way to do it without getting caught, he would. Until then, he was nothing less than a puppet. Cutting their strings required more creative thinking, but his mind was drained. He hoped Daniel or Morton understood the implications he hinted at. Otherwise, all of them were doomed.
***
Lucas’ clone crawled up the creek bank and collapsed in the mud. Rain chilled him. Pain pulsed through his entire body. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth. He coughed and winced in agony. Worse than the pain, he discovered an inner pain that ached even more—the feeling of betrayal.
The injuries he suffered would have killed an ordinary man instantly, and it almost killed him. His near death experience did something else. It forced his body to succumb a near sleep stage so his body could heal. But the abrupt crash also jarred recent memories to play inside his mind. It was like he had stepped out of his body and back through time to his last meeting in General Idris’ office earlier in the day.
Idris sat behind the desk and puffed a cigar. He didn’t bother looking up. He said bluntly, “What is it, Lucian?”
“I did as you ordered, sir,” Lucian replied. “I killed Senator Godfrey and his associate. The two security guards who tried to stop me are dead, too. I need my enhancer shots now.”
Idris tapped cigar ash into a ceramic tray on the desk. He leveled a harsh stare at Lucian. “Very well, son. You did well. Go see Dr. Brockton. He’ll give you an injection.”
Lucian clenched his teeth with a harsh grating sound. “No, sir. That’s not good enough. I want enough injections to last me several weeks.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
“You promised.” The veins in Lucian’s neck swelled and his face reddened.
Idris shrugged. “Perhaps you misunderstood our agreement.”
Lucian formed tight fists and stepped beside the desk. His outrage was evident, and his eyes narrowed. “No misunderstanding. You promised if I disposed of Godfrey that I could have enough injections to last a couple months so I could take leave.”
“Impossible,” Idris spat. “I have need of you on these facility grounds at all times. Don’t forget you brought you to life.”
“How can I?” he replied. “But this is my life.”
“And I control it. Don’t forget that.”
Before Idris blinked, Lucian stood behind the general with his gun pressed to the heavy man’s throat. “Don’t forget that if you’re dead, you control nothing.”
Idris took in a sharp breath. “Easy, son.”
Lucian pressed the gun harder and released the safety. “Never call me that again.”
“Okay. Look, we can work something out. Just put your gun away.”
He kept the gun against Idris’ throat but lessened the pressure. “What deal now?”
Idris said, “An injection today, and after you fulfill one more assignment, I’ll give you three months leave with enough injections to sustain you. You can travel wherever you wish.”
Lucian pressed the gun against Idris’ neck. “You lie.”
“No, I swear it.”
“Put it in writing. If you don’t keep your end of the agreement this time, I’ll come back to kill you. You know I will.”
Idris grabbed a pen with his shaking hand. He wrote out a promise on white copy paper, signed it, and stamped it. Lucian snatched the paper and read it.
“Okay,” Lucian said. “What’s the assignment?”
“Kill Julia and Daniel’s daughter. Daniel is scheduled to meet Helmsby here later today. Kill them while he’s here, and he’s a broken man. Much easier to kill him then.”
Shock shot through Lucian’s body at the request. He forced his hand to remain steady.
“Why?” he asked.
“You weren’t programmed to ask questions, just to carry out orders.”
Lucian shrugged. “I have the gun and you don’t. So tell me.”
Idris’ face flushed red. “I want them out of the way. Every survivor from Helmsby’s Research Center must be killed. With what’s about to occur, only they can finger all the projects back to me. Dead, they cannot. So do as you’re commanded if you want your enhancers. Kill me and your death will be painful. Without those enhancers the pain becomes unbearable. Your body will eat itself into nothing.”
Lucian contemplated pulling the trigger, but already his body suffered. He was only one day late for his injection, but his brain felt like waves of fire rolling against his temples.
“Ah, yes. You feel it, don’t you?” Idris asked. “It’s eating at you inside. Your body chemistry is decomposing. Soon, you will have severe shakes. Your vision will darken. Best hurry to Dr. Brockton.”
Lucian squeezed his eyes shut. “Shut the hell up! I’ll do the damn assignment, but I have no idea how to find them.”
Idris took a printout paper off the desk. “Here, we got access to Johanna’s cell phone records. She talks to Julia quite often. Call Johanna. Use your charm. Find a time when she’ll meet with Julia. If we’re lucky, you’ll get a chance at her, too. A bonus kill.”
Lucian holstered his 9mm and took the paper.
Idris smiled. “Go see Dr. Brockton. He’ll give you your meds. When you finish the assignment, come back for the rest. I’ll keep my word.”
“You’d best.”
Lucian stormed out the door and slammed it.
Blackmail and betrayal. That’s all Idris had done since the Pittsburgh Release. Lucian hadn’t wanted to kill Godfrey, but he had no choice if he wanted to stay alive. He hated that he had to do that, but the new order was for him to kill Julia and Felicia. No, he couldn’t carry out such an atrocity. Not intentionally. He was a pawn, nothing more, but he needed his enhancers or he’d die.
It was madness what Idris demanded, but he didn’t see any other way out.
His jaw tightened. His head throbbed so badly his eyes hurt. How much worse would he suffer before he died? Could he become desperate enough to kill a child? He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He didn’t want to carry out the order. He didn’t have any other choice. No choice at all.
Lucian entered Dr. Brockton’s office. The doctor nervously set down his phone when he saw Lucian.
Brockton was short, stocky with silvery blonde hair. Lucian had always liked him because his eyes reflected a gentleness that he had seldom seen.
“Ahh, Lucian. I didn’t expect you here so quickly.”
Lucian stared at the cell phone on the table. “Idris, correct?”
Brockton nodded. “Yes. He told me you were coming. You looked tired, feverish. How do you feel?”
“Like my brain is on fire.”
“That will fade soon enough after the injection.”
Lucian wiped sweat from his brow. He felt dizzy. He grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself.
“Sit. Sit,” Brockton said. He walked to a hanging cabinet and unlocked it by pressing a series of numbers into a security panel while pressing his right thumb against a scanner. The cabinet door popped open. Inside the cabinet were dozens of enhancer vials.
Lucian’s heart raced and his mouth watered. The cabinet contained several years’ supply of his needed drug and it was only a few feet away from where he sat. If he had some way to steal those, he’d have a life of freedom. He could flee the country and not have to worry about following Idris’ orders ever again. His hand slid to his gun and he contemplated stealing the vials. But Brockton grabbed a vial and quickly shut the cabinet.
Lucian resisted the urge to pull the gun. Even with the code, he couldn’t get inside the locked cabinet. Each number required the fingerprint signature of one person—Brockton, in this case.
He decided to carry out the assignment and worry about stealing the locked contents later should Idris not keep his word.
Dr. Brockton injected the viscous solution into Lucian’s hip. It stung, burning like liquid flame, but he felt, in spite of the irritating pain, a sense of relief pass through him. A brief euphoria.
The doctor smiled. “That should take care of your pain. You’re good for another week. Try not to be late next time to avoid those nasty headaches. Any longer and it grows more severe.”
Lucian nodded. He regarded Brockton for the better part of a minute. The man’s kindness seemed genuine, rare.
“Good luck with your assignment, whatever it may be,” Brockton said. “And be careful.”
“Thanks,” Lucian said, walking to the door.
“Lucian?” Brockton said suddenly.
Lucian stopped and turned.
Brockton handed him a metal box and winked. “More enhancers, just in case you need them. Not everyone here agrees with how Idris treats you.”
Tears moistened Lucian’s eyes. He swallowed at the lump in his throat. Such an overwhelming emotion had never possessed him. He struggled to speak.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
***
A bolt of furious pain blazed through Lucian’s back, shaking him from his dream-state. His body was healing, but the damage was possibly more than he could recover from, especially without medical attention.
With his eyes closed, his mind located the areas with the most damage. He had at least four, maybe five, broken ribs. The head-on collision with the ramp wall had fractured his skull. His right shoulder was dislocated, and he suffered from internal bleeding.
Grabbing handfuls of mud, he crawled several feet further. The pain was too intense. He lost consciousness. Healing came with sleep. His high metabolism operated at an alarming speed. When he awoke, his body would be rid of the broken bones and torn muscles. But other unknown dangers awaited him when he awakened. Dangers he had not yet been exposed to with symptoms he was blind to understand.
***
Lydia arrived at the hotel at 7:30 a.m. Daniel lay asleep with his arm draped over Julia. Morton rested at the foot of the bed where he sat catty-cornered to keep his eyes on the door and Felicia at the same time. Since he didn’t require much sleep, he convinced Daniel to sleep while he guarded them. He’d alert them should anyone attempt to come through the door.
Lydia’s abrupt knock brought Morton to all fours. He jumped to the floor, ran to the window, and peered through the slit where the curtains met. A woman, dressed in full black leather, stood holding her black helmet in one hand and the pup in the other. Morton hurried to Daniel, placed his paws on Daniel’s cheek, gently shaking him awake.
When Daniel opened his eyes, Morton said, “Lydia’s here.”
Daniel rubbed his eyes. “It’s noon already?”
“No, it’s still early.”
Julia rolled over and looked at Morton. “Lydia’s here? Why?”
Daniel sat up. “She called me last night. Three men and Lucas’ clone tried to kill her.”
“Oh, dear God. Why are they after her, too?”
Daniel walked to the door. “I’m under the impression that anyone who has a close friendship with Lucas is being targeted by these people.”
When Daniel opened the door, Lydia nervously stepped inside. He scanned the parking lot before closing the door. Other than a few people packing luggage into their cars, it didn’t appear that anyone had followed her.
The morning sky remained hidden behind gloomy gray clouds. A slight mist drifted with the breeze. He shut the door and locked it.
Lydia collapsed in the nearest chair. She forced a weak, tired smile and placed Rex on the floor. She set her helmet on the table. Her red, puffy eyes revealed her exhaustion. Her blonde, short hair was matted flat from sweat. Hiking up her muddy jeans, she leaned over and unzipped her mud-caked boots. Daniel knew she’d been through Hell getting to them.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “My nerves are frayed, and I’ve probably picked up a lot of bruises along the way. Other than that and being hungry, I’m fine. Just minutes after I talked to you, I think they blew up Lucas’ plane with explosives. A huge explosion occurred where his kept the plane.”
“Shit. Are you serious?”
“They were still on his property when I left,” she replied in a whisper.
Julia handed her bottled water and a pack of cheese crackers. “Here,” Julia said. “It’s not much. Dan can get us breakfast soon. I’ll go fill the tub with hot water. You’ll feel much better after you bathe and get some sleep.”
“Thanks.”
She opened the crackers and gave Daniel a grim smile. “I never had taken Lucas seriously about his clone. That was almost a dangerous mistake.”
“When we were living at the research center, his clone fooled me, too.”
Rex walked a circle under the table before lying down. He placed his head on his forepaws before closing his eyes. The dog was as tired as Lydia.
“How well did he take to the bike ride?”
Lydia took a sip of water to wash down a mouthful of dry crackers. “I strapped him to my lap. He was nervous at first, but after ten miles, he seemed to enjoy it.”
Daniel smiled.
“Why are you guys staying in a hotel?” she asked.
“Like you and Lucas, our place was attacked.”
“Why is this all happening?”
“I’m not quite sure what it’s all about,” Daniel said with a sigh. “But whoever set Lucas up wants all of us dead. Sweeper teams were sent to kill us. They attacked Julia, Johanna, and Felicia yesterday. In broad daylight, too.”
“So they’re not worried about being seen.”
“No. That makes me wonder how deeply this conspiracy lies.”
Johanna’s cell phone rang. She reached from the blanket and patted the nightstand until she found it.
“Hello?” she said. “What? Hell no! Are you freaking serious?”
Johanna kicked off her blanket, swung her feet over the side of the bed, and ran a hand through her wild hair. Stunned and shocked, she disconnected the call.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked.
“That was one of my producers. My studio was set ablaze during the night. One of my directors and another producer was found this morning. Both had been shot to death. Apparently before the fire was set.”
“I’m so sorry,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “They can’t find us, so they’re going after those closest to us.”
Julia opened the bathroom door. Steam drifted out like a cloud.
Lydia,” Julia said. “Your bath water’s ready.”
Lydia used the chair armrests to push herself to her feet. Johanna’s eyes narrowed when she noticed Lydia. Lydia exchanged a feeble smile for the glare and said, “I’m not your enemy, Johanna. I never have been. I wish you’d get over whatever my clone did to you. You can’t live in the past, and if we don’t work together, we may not have a future.”
Lydia went into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.
Johanna looked at Daniel. “What is she doing here?” she whispered. “Why is she here?”
“She’s here to help keep us alive.”
***
The morning sun burned through the layered, drifting fog at Lydia’s dirt bike trails. Lucian stood and then staggered a few more steps before resting. He was a little less than one hundred years from reaching her barn.
His injuries had been severe enough that he had nearly died during his healing process. Healing required energy. Energy required calories. A lot of calories. Because he didn’t have any source of food, his body fed on his muscles. He was weak and nearing starvation. He needed food soon or he’d die.
He had crawled the first fifty feet from the creek until the pounding pain in his head subsided enough for him to stand. He hobbled to where he now stood, but his shaky legs warned him that his muscle tissue had emaciated to the point that he could collapse any moment.
Walking stiff-legged, he reached the side of the barn and pressed himself against the wall, keeping his knees locked. Should he bend his legs slightly, he knew he’d fall. If he did, he doubted he’d be able to stand again. Less than thirty yards separated him from the kitchen door, but it was impossible to walk that far.
Intense hunger gnawed through him and involuntary groans escaped his lips.
With his body digesting itself, he fought step by step to keep from falling. Finally, he reached the Jeep. He didn’t have time to hotwire the vehicle or hunt for a key, provided Lydia had one hidden in it.
The sunlight filtered through the fog, and he noticed a black tarp at the front of the Jeep near the spot where Lucas had parked his motorcycle. He propped against the Jeep for balance.
Gasping for air and mentally fighting the pain, he slid himself along the side of the Jeep until he was at the front grill. He grabbed the tarp and yanked. Beneath the dusty tarp was a riding mower. Falling forward, he hugged the seat.
Convulsions undulated through his body. He figured swallowing a large metal meat hook and having his insides tugged slowly out his throat would have been less painful. His hamstrings tightened from fierce unrelenting contractions. He dropped to his knees. His shaking arms clung to the lawnmower seat like it was the only life preserver in his sea of misery.
The severe cramps bent his legs behind him, but he managed, after three attempts to roll into the narrow space between the seat and steering wheel.
Lucian turned the ignition key. The engine rolled, whined, rolled. He tried again. One long whine. Again. The engine awakened, roared. Blue smoke streamed from the muffler.
With his left hand he pressed down on the clutch and pushed the gearshift into low with his right. The riding mower kicked forward, slowly rolling down the slight gradient toward the house.
When he reached the carport and killed the motor, he was parked beside the kitchen door. The door stood slightly ajar. After prying his curled, aching fingers from the steering wheel, he crawled up the stairs and shoved his weight and shoulder against the door. The door swung inward, and he collapsed to the floor.
His body already ached so much that he didn’t feel the impact. He welcomed the coolness of the linoleum.
On the floor beside the table was his dead comrade’s spilled beer. He pulled himself across the floor on his elbows to the puddle of beer. He lapped the Coors like a dog drank water. His injuries demanded he forsake his dignity.
An unopened Coors lay on the floor beside the dead man’s boot. Lucian took the can and popped the tab open. He downed it in one long gulp. His body ached from hunger and desperate need. The leg cramps subsided enough to gain minor mobility, but he relied more on using his elbows to move. He crawled to the refrigerator.
On the lower refrigerator shelf, he found a bottle of pure grape juice. He drank what remained in the bottle to boost his energy. He ate cheese, yogurt, and raw eggs. After a few more minutes, he moved to the pantry. He opened a jar of peanut butter and scooped out a thick handful and licked it from his dirty fingers.
After a half hour of gorging himself, he became invigorated. His energy renewed somewhat. To heal from all the damage his body suffered he needed more than just food. He needed his genetic enhancer injections. Severe injuries required he receive more than one injection per week. Brockton had warned him weeks earlier. Without the enhancers and because he was a clone, his shortened telomeres reverted to their aged state preventing further mitosis from taking place. At that stage, death was inevitable and expedient.
“Damn you, Idris,” Lucian whispered.
The extra enhancers Brockton had given him were in the van. They were the only reason he had lived longer than the typical three-year clone life span. And this was the first time he’d administer the injection to himself. Without the courtesy Brockton had shown by giving him extras, Lucian would probably die before he could return to TransGenCorp. Idris certainly wouldn’t have allowed Lucian another shot until his assignment was completed. That was the tradeoff. Assignment first or no injection.
Genetic blackmail.
But not anymore.
Because of Brockton, Lucian didn’t intend to return to TransGenCorp. He hated Idris, and he wanted to live his own life. He no longer wanted to be an assassin. He didn’t like being a piece of discardable property, either.
Lucian had come for Lydia, not to kill her like he was assigned or like she had expected, but he wanted to win her heart. He’d planned to kill the soldiers with him to prove that he’d protect her from danger, only she killed them, proving she was capable of protecting herself and didn’t need a bodyguard.
But then she deceived him and damn near killed him, which left one thing on his agenda: Finish the assignment and kill Lydia.
Lucian walked to Lydia’s bedroom and undressed. He stepped inside her shower and turned on the hot water. Plunging his face into the water, he let his mind drift. He pictured how he’d torture Lydia and how he’d kill her.
He smiled.
After turning off the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He needed fresh clothes, so he searched her closet. He found what he hoped she still possessed—some of Lucas’ old clothes.
He dressed and looked into the mirror. Another smile curled beneath his grayish black beard. He still had surprises of his own that even Idris was unaware of.
With deep concentration and focus, he extended his chin, widened his nose, and changed his hair and eye color. He had trained himself to shape shift his facial components during the last two years. The process was becoming easier since he had tainted his genome with shifter DNA.
“Hell,” he thought to himself, “With a high enough dosage of estrogen, I could grow breasts and disguise myself as a woman.”
He hurried to the kitchen, took the dead man’s 9mm, tucked it behind his belt, and then picked up another 9mm off the concrete carport. He walked briskly to the van. When he noticed the flat tires, he cursed and slammed his hands on the hood.
Opening the door, he reached under the driver’s seat and retrieved the metal box. He extracted a syringe and injected it into his hip.
Storm clouds on the horizon turned darker, vanquishing the sun. Lucian inhaled the humid air and sighed. Walking down the highway, he pictured what it would be like to simply set at the side of the road and enjoy the elements around him. He could relax and soak in his surroundings.
Knowing his life was destined to consist of only a few years, he never experienced the chance to see what lie outside the laboratories. He never had been so close to death, either. He wondered what religion a soulless man claimed. Death had no meaning to him. Life was what he made it or what he took from others. That’s why he sought to take a leave from Idris’ duties, only that bastard refused to let him. Idris knew that if he allowed Lucian such luxury, Lucian would never return.
Lucian didn’t bother wasting time to take Lydia’s Jeep. Even if he found a way to start it, he’d never get near her. She’d recognize the vehicle as hers the instant she saw it. But opportunities presented themselves in unusual ways.
Half a mile down the road, a car approaching from behind slowed. An elderly man stopped his car and lowered the window.
“Hey there, neighbor,” the old man said. “You need a ride?”
Lucian smiled and nodded. “As a matter of fact, mister, I do.”
He raised the pistol and squeezed the trigger.