EVO Universe 1: The First (10 page)

#4 looked at Ms. Barrett and the tablet in her hand; as she raised an eyebrow, he swallowed hard.

“No sir,” he shook his head.

The Director turned his back to #4 going back to his podium, as the rest of his teammates gave him a dirty look for agitating the man.

#4 returned the look in kind, “What? Fuck yawl lookin at?”

“If we are done playing games let us make one thing clear,” the Director sternly delivered home to the team of four, “Sophia Dennison is more valuable than all of you, and everyone else who has come before you…and just like you she is my property which I want back…like yesterday.”

He then gave them a fatherly smile of reassurance, “But not to worry, as usual daddy has some toys that will put you on equal footing with her so that you can carry out your mission.”

The screen went black, and then came on again with a wide view revealing four large metallic monstrosities in separate clear glass cylinders of unknown solution with various wires attached to them.

#4 was the first to echo the team’s sentiment, “What the…?”

“Biological Assault Mechs,” answered the Director, “B.A.Ms” for short, the perfect mixture of cybernetics and living tissue.”

“Cyborgs?” the surprisingly silent man known as #2 asked.

“Mechs,” reiterated the Director, “Instead of hydraulics and servos these machines move via genetically altered muscle, sinew, and a nervous system that is part organic and part cybernetic integrated with a near virtually indestructible metallic bone structure giving them not only exceptional superhuman strength and speed but superior agility and reflexes for their size. An operator via controls and a neural uplink commands them from within. You each will be fitted for an uplink and calibrated to each machine within the next eight hours; you will then have the next forty-eight hours to master each of your units before engaging the subject.”

#4 held up his hand while asking his question not waiting for the Director to call him, “So when are these coming to a store near you for Christmas?”

Surprisingly the Director answered him, “If you’re asking if these will be standard issue for the military, they won’t…our government can’t afford these. Not to mention the “ethical” retaliation we’d get if the public knew we created of such a machine.”

“I don’t follow,” a now curious #1 asked.

“In order for operator and machine to calibrate perfectly the organic material has to be first taken from the operator for altering and cloning,” explained the Director.

The woman known as #3 narrowed her eyes as she thought she’d figured out what the Director was saying, “You mean…”

He does not wait for her to wrap her brain around it, “The DNA used to grow the organic materials for each of these machines was taken from each of you…”

Dead silence once again filled the room; it was hard to tell whether each member had a look of violation or fascination.

Either way the look on the Director’s face showed he did not care, “Now if there are no further questions…prepare to be prepped for surgery in the next six hours…”

CHAPTER SEVEN

September 3, 2008, 0830 AM, Armitage stood in the alleyway near the Goodwill, which was the first sighting of Dennison since she broke out of prison. There in the alley he looked at the drop-box that required a forklift to move, buried under a couple thousand pounds of steel from the emergency escape ladder that collapsed on it. It had been almost a day and a couple of hours since this all started, and this was another sign that the madness was far from ending. He left his agents and the local forensics team to taking pictures and collecting evidence outside, while he went in to see the full extent of the damage done inside the building.

Inside was just as bad as the out with a huge gaping hole in the ceiling, a couple of clothing racks destroyed, and a floor with a small crater in it. Armitage now stood next to Mercer looking up at God’s blue sky through the very same hole.

“Self-explanatory isn’t it?” he sighed

“Yep,” reconfirmed Dustin,” Made her way to the roof with that unstable set up outside, punched a hole through so as not to trip any alarms, got cleaned up, clothes, something to eat, and broke into manager’s office, took the video tapes for the surveillance cameras, then broke into the safe taking some of the money.”

Mark Armitage knit his brow, “Some?”

“There’s still cash in the box,” Dustin scoffed in disbelief, “It looked like she counted it and took half…she left a written note to the manager apologizing for the damage…taking the money, and said she’d pay him back for it.”

Mercer pulled out the letter in a sealed evidence Ziploc bag, which Armitage took giving a quick read.

Mark then looked at his partner in total confusion, “She kills a CO in prison, breaks into here, yet leaves half the money and an apology note for the damage she’s done.”

Dustin shook his head, “There’s no end to the weirdness man…figured she booked out of here when the ladder outside fell; that’s what prompted the locals to show up.”

“Considering the ground that she covered so far,” Mark estimated, “She could be half way to Houston by now.”

“She could also head to Mexico,” Dustin added.

“Good point,” agreed Mark, “We’ll need to set up a grid from here to there, get some agents down there with the border patrol to try and keep her from going over.”

Dustin knitted his brows at the “Keep her from going over part” of Mark’s sentence, “You did see that she lifted that drop-box outside by herself right?”

“I’m trying to handle one problem at a time Dustin,” returned a frustrated Mark, “We need to find her. Figure out how do deal with the superhuman factor along the way.”

Armitage spied a stocky elderly man with white silver hair and some silver horn rim spectacles in a light fall jacket with a checkered shirt underneath and khaki tan pants with a belt and suspender set up calmly walking around inspecting the damage.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

The man with the answer looked over to where Mark was pointing, “Manager of this store…Thomas Ward…” Dustin confirmed.

Out of nowhere, Mercer’s phone rang; he looked at it and sent it to voicemail.

“Is that Bethany?” Mark asked pryingly.

Dustin grumbled, “Yeah, I’ll call her later.”

“What’d I tell you about that shit?” Mark came out of nowhere lecturing him, “Answer your phone man.”

“She’s just calling to bitch to me about my cholesterol!” yelled Dustin, “And about the kids! I’ll call her later!”

“Call her now dammit!” Mark literally ordered him, “I’m going to talk to the owner, handle your business!”

“Alright “ma”! Alright!” Dustin flared his arms as if he was talking to his actual mother.

Mark stood there waiting until Dustin picked up his phone and called his wife back.

He rolled his eyes as she answered, “Bethany? Yeah…what’s up? I had egg whites and an orange juice today; you want me to bring home a stool sample? Well that’s what you get for dick riding my ass! What?! Well call the plumber and tell him the toilet can’t take him to China!”

Dustin mouthed the words, “I fucking told you!” as he continued to bicker with his wife.

Mark Armitage walked over to Thomas Ward for the formal Federal Bureau assurance that they were on the job, with the promise of apprehending the fugitive eventually, etc., etc., etc.

Mark introduced himself, “Mr. Ward…Special Agent in Charge Mark Armitage…”

Mr. Ward extended his hand for a shake, “Nice to meet you Special Agent.”

“Sorry about the damage to your store,” Armitage gave a textbook apology for situations like this, “And everything else.”

Mr. Ward shrugged with a smile, “Well, you didn’t do this, and that’s what insurance is for.”

“Still we’re in pursuit of the fugitive and should have her in due time,” Mark reassured, “May I ask if all of the cameras in this store work?”

“As I told one of your Agents,” Mr. Ward confirmed, “Two are dummies…two are working…we don’t get a lot of thievery in these parts. I’d say you’re welcome to the tapes, but I heard the young lady took them.”

“Thank you,” Mark nodded with appreciation, “Um…here’s my card, if you can think of anything, or need anything please call.”

“Thank you Special Agent, oh and if you do happen to catch the young lady who did all of this…tell her I do forgive her…and I am praying for her,” Thomas Ward gave Armitage a smile and a nod as he walked away, leaving Armitage standing bewildered and unable to process what he just heard.

Mark muttered shaking his head, “Okay…the whole world has officially gone mad…”

CHAPTER EIGHT

11:45 PM, Sophia stood in the backyard of her home, her and Robert’s home. After four years, she thought someone would have made it the home she always wanted it to be. She thought she would see bikes, a swing set, maybe a puppy. Instead, it sat there dark and empty like a tomb; almost four years later and it was still on the market. She understood why it would be so hard to sell considering what happened there. The place she dreamed about having a family was now a real estate agent’s virtual nightmare. As she neared the stone fire pit that was one of the key selling point for them wanting the house; an image of her and Robert curled up in a blanket on one of the patio chairs looking up at the stars while the warm fire blazed in the lit pit flooded her mind. She could literally hear the crackling of the fire, feel the heat from it as well as Robert’s warm embrace, taste his lips as they kissed, and listen to his heartbeat as she nuzzled against his chest.

She shook herself to her senses as tears once again filled her eyes, remembering that she had to get control of this ability of hers. All she had to do was think of a memory long enough, and it activated in 4D making her feel like she was actually there, so much so if she was not careful it would leave her in trances. She destroyed a couple of trees and a concrete wall getting here before she figured out how to get somewhat of a handle on it. One of the memories that caused the wall fiasco was of a sexual nature with Robert in a movie theater.

As she neared the patio, she grabbed a stone from the waist high wall entrance that surrounded it; sure enough, no one found the fake stone with the spare key. She placed the fake back where it originally rested taking the key praying that whoever was selling the house was too cheap to continue to pay for the alarm system while it was on the market. Jackpot again as the door opened minus the one-minute warning beep to enter the alarm disarming passcode into the keypad. She entered slowly closing the door behind her, with her eyes closed she reminded herself to stay focus; a treasure trove of memories was in that house.

Birthdays, football games, couple of firsts, arguments, every good and bad memory was coming at her at once; and she had to shove them all back. Apparently if she wasn’t near something familiar she could pull a memory by choice and view it, but the minute she came across something familiar or touched something familiar the memories spilled out like an over packed closet which she had to force all back at once. The original plan was to stay one night in their home, clearly that was no longer possible; she would go insane by dawn. She wanted to know if her memories gave her the clear image she was seeing when she selected them, or if it was more intense in her former home; she was looking for clues.

She trotted upstairs were more memories came at her in barrages, moving in new furniture, the water fight they had in the hallway, the time they could not wait to get to their bedroom to have each other; arguments with slamming doors. She weathered through them trying to get to the master bedroom; but forced herself to stop at one particular bedroom right next to the Master.

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They did not change the paint, probably wanted it to be the selling point for a house fit for a new family. She could smell the sea green paint as she applied it to the wall on her side; on the other side, Robert applied the yellow.

“So if it’s a girl?” she asked.

Robert rattled off some names, “Rebecca, Sarah, Mary….”

“Anything other than biblical names?” she sneered.

He thought about it, “Erica…Stephanie…Alize…Porsha.”

“Alright! Alright!” she decided to change the subject unhappy with the names he came up with, “What if it’s a boy?”

He contemplated with a smile, “Well I was thinking about Rob Junior….”

“No…oh no,” she decided to lay down the law, “Just because it’s coming out of me doesn’t mean you get a mini-me!”

“Oh…oh…real nice, you just came up with that on the spot?” he asked sarcastically.

“I can’t help that you’re kind of slow in the wit department…,” she returned with an underlined yet blatant diss.

He caught it turning around, “I’m slow now? You calling me slow? You want to see how slow I am? You think this is slow?”

She did not have time to react as he picked her up whisking her around.

She burst out with a shocking scream of laughter, “What are you doing? What are you doing? Put me down, you’re going to make me drop the paint!”

“Am I still slow? Am I still slow?” he playfully demanded her to recant her comment.

“There are pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes,” she answered with her best Bubba voice in a playful taunt.