Hybrid Zone Recognition (6 page)

Idiot. She was a whiz at molecular biology, but the common things seemed to escape her sometimes. Perhaps we could hit them over the head with a Yoohoo and shove the candy bar in their mouth if they tried to scream. The ridiculousness of that thought caused me to smile in spite of the seriousness of the situation. But it quickly faded as I stared at the very real SUV in front of us.

It had done one of those sideways turning stops that blocked the whole road. I’d only ever seen that in the movies. Staring at its black length stretched across the road, I knew there was no getting around it. I was also pretty sure driving really fast in reverse was a bad idea.

“Why haven’t they got out yet?” Miranda asked.

I glanced at her. Her face revealed the various scenarios she was playing out. It didn’t look like they were pleasant ones. That was probably why they hadn’t gotten out yet.

“Intimidation,” I said confidently, turning my gaze back to the SUV.

“Intimidation?”

“Yeah, they think we’re scared poopless right now.”

“They got that right,” she said, nodding vigorously.

“Yep, I’d say they nailed it.” She wasn’t the only one with an imagination.

I drummed my fingernails on the steering wheel. This was a situation I never thought I would find myself in. I didn’t know why, especially considering what I had been through lately. Sure, it was always a possibility, in some obscure, remote, most likely never way. One I’d never really entertained. All of my attackers had been unidentifiable somebodies somewhere off in the distance, but now, they were right here in front of me.

“Here they come,” Miranda singsonged.

For goodness sakes, I was a researcher. Now I was being cornered by tall, dark and packing? In the beam of my headlights, I was able to see a shoulder holster peeking out of his unbuttoned jacket that swung as he walked. Great. He was probably trained in all sorts of ways to kill me.

My weapons training consisted of hit the beer bottle on the fence when I was ten. I didn’t have any training in survival or what to do if hemmed in by a SUV sporting baddies. All that stuff that, right now, seemed like a really good idea. Where were all my spy gadgets? They were new line items in my budget that was where they were.

As focused as I was on my internal debate, I hadn’t realized he had reached the truck. The tap on the window clued me in.

With my first close up look at him, I could not keep the smile off my face. As my eyes swept his form, I came to the conclusion that I was being stalked by Men in Black. He had the suit, the glasses, the chiseled jaw...

I rolled my window down and, with what I hoped was a totally used to dealing with this kind of thing voice, asked, “Do you need directions?”

He didn’t even crack a smile. But he did look me in the eye…maybe. Hard to tell with the sunglasses on…at two in the morning.

“We need you to come with us, Dr. Greer,” he spoke in a rich, even voice.

That was me. For better or worse, they knew who I was. Leaning across the open window, I propped my chin in my hand, partially concealing my smile. I didn’t expect him to fill in the blank, but I asked anyway. “Why would I come with you, Mr. …?”

“Please get out of the vehicle, Ma’am.”

Just as I suspected, we weren’t exchanging names.

I took a breath and righted myself. Putting both hands back on the wheel, I stared out the front window. “Well, Mir, it looks like I’m getting out of the vehicle.”

When she didn’t respond in her usual rapid fire mode, I turned to look at her. She was sort of sunk down in her seat as far away from my side as she could get. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the Goon at my window and the black SUV. Maybe she was in shock.

“Miranda, you ok?” My query was met with silence. “Miranda,” I said sharply.

It seemed like her eyes were in slow motion as they slid to me. “Where is my tall, dark, and delicious?”

Really? She was thinking about possible mates at a time like this? Unbelievable. My concern was replaced by anger at the accusation in her voice.

“Are you accusing me of hogging the Goons?” I asked coldly.

She straightened in her chair, seeming to puff up at the same time—like a chicken or something.

“I know how this goes. The leading lady is always the one who ends up with the hot guy.”

Yep, she was thinking about it.

“Miranda, need I remind you of all the times I have made this trip alone because you made other plans involving Goon like beings. I think you are quite capable of getting your own Goon!”

As if on cue, a door to the SUV opened and out stepped Goon Number Two. We watched in silence as he walked to the back of the SUV. At least the momentary interruption served to quell our anger, which I suspected was born out of the stress we were currently enduring.

“He’s back,” Miranda whispered, pointing at the window.

I turned back to the window. Goon Number One was still at eye level with me and had one hand gripping the door handle and the other resting on top of the truck. How tall was this guy? Of course, I was only five foot three so almost everyone was tall to me.

“I’m going to have to insist that you get out of the vehicle, Ma’am,” he said a little more forcibly.

“Sticking to the script, I see,” I told him.

Facing Miranda once again, I started to speak when she beat me to it.

“No goodbyes, MG,” she spit out rapidly and held up her closed fist.

I raised my eyebrow at her. “We do fist bumps now?”

“It’s a new thing. I thought it’d make us look more tough in front of tall, dark and PUSHY!” she yelled as he opened the door.

He ignored her outrage and responded with the requisite phrase. “Out of the vehicle now, please.”

He was polite, if not original, for a kidnapper.

“I’ll see you later,” I said quietly to Miranda while returning her fist bump. Most definitely I would. Probably.

I climbed down from the truck, jumping the last foot or so to the ground. My truck was a jacked up 4x4 with oversized tires. Miranda has repeatedly told me that it was too big for me and that I needed to downsize. But I worked hard for this truck. I loved my truck.

He obviously didn’t know this. He had already started walking away while ordering, “This way, Ma’am.”

I crossed my arms and stared at his retreating form. Did he think I was an idiot? There was clearly only one way to the SUV. Obviously, it was that way.

When he realized I wasn’t following, he pivoted and raised an eyebrow at me. Apparently, I didn’t have the market cornered on eyebrow raises. “What about my truck?” I could tell by his hesitation that he was not expecting that question.

“The truck?” he asked in confusion.

“Yeah, the truck,” I repeated mockingly. “What is going to happen to my truck?”

“My partner,” he said, motioning towards Goon Number Two, “will see to the return of your truck and associate.”

“How convenient,” I said dryly.

“We plan it that way,” he said and resumed his march to the SUV.

Goon Number Two and I started walking to our respective destinations, trading places as we went. I noticed he had latte colored skin as he crossed through the headlight beams. I wondered if that meant he had the light brown eyes that were so often paired with that color skin. But even if he did, being pretty did not earn him a pass to drive my truck.

My glare followed him as I paused and watched him climb behind the wheel. Shifting my gaze sideways to Miranda, I gasped in disbelief. She was grinning from ear to ear.

That girl was a hopeless romantic. She’d probably already cooked up any number of romantic scenarios to enact. Goon Number Two didn’t know what he was in for. They’d probably be engaged before they hit Houston.

I looked back at the SUV and the Goon waiting by the open door. What else could I do? By my calculations, running in Louisiana at night would be just as dangerous as getting in the SUV. I figured they wanted me alive, didn’t know about unharmed.

He must have sensed my hesitation. Stepping away from the door, he looked prepared to take off.

“I’m not running,” I said. I could at least spare myself the humiliation of being chased down.

Sighing more loudly than I intended, I let my shoulders slump forward and walked over to the SUV. He held the door open for me, but I shunned his reach for my elbow. This vehicle wasn’t any taller than my truck, and I climbed into it unassisted all the time.

Once inside, he made me move over to the middle seat next to another Goon already in position. Then he climbed in beside me, taking up all the free space.

In the front of the SUV, there were two more Goons dressed exactly the same as the others. “Do they clone you guys?” I asked jokingly. Nobody laughed. Given what I did for a living, it probably wasn’t that funny. They could be clones or more.

After a few minutes of driving in silence, it became clear to me that no one was going to volunteer any information. We were going to have to do this the old fashioned way.

I angled myself to face my Goon. Since he’d been the one to fetch me, I’d designated him as mine. “Who’s we?” I asked.

I got the eyebrow raise again. It was kind of funny watching the one eyebrow ascend above the sunglasses. I couldn’t help smiling as I explained my question further. “You said we plan it that way. Who’s we?”

“All of your questions will be addressed by the Director.”

At least, he’d dropped the Ma’am. “We is the Director?” I teased. He didn’t find my comment amusing. Tough Crowd.

“And that would be Director of…?” I drew out the of for emphasis, but he didn’t answer. “When do I get to meet the Director?”

Still no response. I guess I had gotten all I was going to get on that, so I changed the subject of my questions. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

The only sound was the whistling of the wind against the SUV. The old fashioned way was annoying.

“How about, when will we get there?” I tried again.

Nada. Were these guys breathing? I looked at Goon Number One’s abdomen. His jacket was still unbuttoned and underneath was a nicely fitted white t-shirt. Yep, breathing.

He caught me looking, and I innocently batted my eyelashes at him, but I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. I was trying to stop smiling, but the harder I tried not to, the stronger the urge became.

I sat back between the Goons again, laying my head against the back of the seat until I could stop grinning like an idiot. There really wasn’t anything funny about the situation.

“Sure would be nice to know why you’ve kidnapped me,” I said to the quiet interior of the SUV.

They didn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that I was speaking. They were going to sit here and ignore me. They really were.

I could make it difficult for them, but they could probably make it difficult for me too. I was betting there difficult would be a lot worse than mine.

Using my hands to cover a huge yawn, I squeezed my eyes shut. The driving combined with the ebbing adrenaline was starting to make it hard for me to keep them open. I hadn’t slept since five this morning. Counting backwards, I calculated I’d been awake for twenty one hours. It was definitely time for a nap. Lucky for me, I had my own personal Goon snuggly, and I was going to use it.

I laid my head against my Goon’s shoulder. He smelled like a bonfire and fruit, an odd combination on a man. Turning my head slightly, I pressed my nose into his bicep and took a deep whiff. Maybe it was his fabric softener. I’d never seen one labeled backyard bbq with grilled fruit, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

I could feel him looking down at me. He probably even had that eyebrow raised. That made me grin again, and I pressed my face tighter against his arm to hide it. If he objected, he never said a word.

As I waited for sleep to overtake me, I revisited the events of my day. Assuming that Miranda didn’t become too distracted to store it properly, I had obtained the last sample I needed. The one official reason I was still on the job. It would take me a little while to complete the analysis, but then what?

Did I trust the HCF enough to hand over my report? Not currently. There would be trouble either way. Turning it in was probably the safest choice for me. But, if I did turn it in, would I just leave? How would I explain that to Kenny and the rest of the group? Or to myself? That would leave no one standing between the hybrids and the government. What would happen to them then?

There had to be a way out of this mess that didn’t involve manipulation or annihilation of the hybrids or rebellion against the government. I just couldn’t see it yet. Depending on what these people wanted from me, I might not have to worry about it at all.

My pillow shifted further away, and I leaned in closer, claiming the space he’d given up. He’d just failed if he was trying to get away. That was ironic. Shouldn’t I be the one trying to get away?

I covered another yawn and curled my legs beside me on the seat. Leaning more heavily against my Goon, I wrapped my arms around his arm and pulled it towards me. He resisted briefly before he let me adjust him. That was better. Now maybe I wouldn’t wake up with a knot in my neck.

Well, here was hoping I didn’t drool.

Chapter 4

I
t was daylight when I
woke up, and I felt more tired than I had before I’d slept. I hated when that happened. But not as much as I hated my body informing me that I hadn’t moved while I’d slept. I couldn’t feel my legs at all.

Gingerly, I moved them back to the floor and waited for the pins and needles to start. Unwrapping my arms from my bicep pillow, I sat up and began to roll my head from side to side. Neither of my captors seated on either side of me paid me much notice.

Peering out the front window, I observed we were no longer on the interstate. I probably could have deduced that without seeing the road simply by all the bumping the SUV was doing.

The smooth interstate had been replaced by a dirt road lined by very tall weeds on either side. I was summarily being tossed around, constantly rebounding off the nearest Clone—I’d updated their designations this morning, more scientific. All this movement was probably what woke me up.

I didn’t often ride in the middle seat, but it didn’t take long to form my opinion. Riding in the middle was the worst. There were no places to hold on. I had to grip my Clone just to stay in the seat. If I didn’t think he was emotionless, I would have sworn he was enjoying the steady jostling I was enduring. I certainly wasn’t, particularly not with the needle sensations throbbing every time my legs bounced into something.

We fielded one long string of incredibly large ruts that slung me everywhere, including into his lap. He seemed truly startled that I was there.

“Don’t look at me,” I said accusingly. “I’m not driving.”

He didn’t say a word, just deposited me back in my seat, which was fine with me. It was where I was headed anyway.

The ride smoothed out after that. The vehicle climbed onto a blacktop road right before we entered an airstrip, a private one by the looks of it. A sleek jet was parked at one end, and there didn’t seem to be any other vehicles around.

I wondered if the current Clones were going with me or dumping me here to be ferried somewhere else. I found myself surprisingly not wanting to give up the little bit of familiarity I had gained with my Clone. Not like we had connected or anything. He hadn’t spoken to me since the night before, and even then it was the bare minimum.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard them make a sound all night either. Maybe I had slept really soundly or maybe these guys didn’t talk the whole way there. That would require more discipline than I possessed. Maybe they weren’t communicating verbally, yet another interesting and frightening thought. I’d have to experiment with that later.

The SUV pulled to a stop alongside the jet, and my Clone didn’t waste any time escorting me to the gangway. It appeared my Clone was the only one accompanying us because the SUV carrying the rest of them drove away as soon as we stepped onto the ramp.

I found it strangely comforting that he was going, and odd that they thought it took an SUV full of Clones to accompany me to the airport. They either held the belief that I was tougher than I actually was, or they were expecting trouble. I kind of thought it had to be the latter.

As I reached the top of the ramp, I paused and looked around. The swamps were gone, but that didn’t tell me much. In my estimation, we had driven about six hours. Six hours in any direction and still managed to end up in the middle of nowhere. For all I knew, they could have gone in circles the entire time. It didn’t look like Houston, but it could have been. Houston zoning was weird.

Not recognizing a single thing settled it. I had no idea where we were. I didn’t really think I would pursue an escape plan, but it would help to know where I was, if the need arose.

My shadow suddenly grew much larger, and I knew without turning that my Clone was behind me. In response to the ever so strategic clearing of his throat, I muttered, “I’m going,” and stepped onto the plane.

“Swanky,” I said, clasping my hands together in front of me. To no one in particular, I said, “So, what’s on the breakfast menu, and please point me in the direction of the bathroom.”

“Last door on the right,” said a pleasant voice from what I did not think was a flight attendant. She wore no uniform to speak of, no sun glasses, and her suit wasn’t even black. Like me, she had blond hair, which she had pulled up in a bun, and her eyes were blue. She even looked a lot like me. I found that to be the slightest bit creepy.

In response to my staring, she lifted both her eyebrows, the universal equivalent of asking “what?”

I smiled and walked past her to the bathroom. My Clone, who had brushed past me already, had taken a position just over the wing. Someone had read the safety reports.

I finished my necessities and was happy to see a tray filled with breakfast goodies at a table directly across the plane from my Clone. The look alike, non flight attendant woman was nowhere in sight, which left only me and my Clone in the immediate vicinity of the food. Since he hadn’t bothered to claim it, I assumed it was for me. If I was wrong, I’d still rather eat now and make apologies later.

There was the possibility that the food could be drugged, but it seemed unlikely. If they were going to pursue that route, they would have done it in the beginning, when escaping had the greatest likelihood of success. There wasn’t much escape to be had at thirty thousand feet up, if you excluded parachutes, which I did. If it came down to that, they could just shoot me. There was absolutely no possibility of me willingly jumping out of this plane.

Without further delay, I sat down and commenced eating. In the five minutes it took to clear the tray, we were wheels up. There was no greeting from the pilot, and I didn’t even get a safety lecture.

But I wasn’t left completely on my own. There was my Clone, of course, and my unexpected twin had returned and taken a seat across from me at the table. She was perusing a report of some kind, waiting for me to finish.

Although I had eaten everything on the tray, including the token grapes, I was still hungry and began to scope around for more.

“I can get you another tray,” my look alike offered.

I liked to give people labels, especially when they didn’t offer an alternative. Maybe it was a scientist thing. Miranda said it was just me being neurotic. Being that she herself was neurotic, she should know.

“You could be my new best friend,” I said, secretly hoping I wouldn’t need one.

When she left to get my seconds, I crossed the isle and scooted in next to Clone Number One. “Did Miranda and my truck make it back to Houston okay?” I asked him.

My question didn’t even rate a head turn. His delay in responding allowed me to study him closely. Now that I could see him in the daylight, I made a very astute scientific observation. He was quite handsome.

Yes, handsome was a scientific designation. There had been studies done that showed men who were considered handsome by potential female mates had the greatest chance of mating and thus propagating the species. Not that I was looking for a mate or interested in propagating. Okay, maybe his hotness was not entirely scientific, but it was definitely worth noticing.

“They have arrived and everything including the cargo is secured,” he finally answered.

Secured? What did that mean? Being the practical person that I was, I asked him. “What do you mean by secured?”

His tone of voice clearly indicated he was irritated with being disturbed. “Your associate and the cargo are where they should be.”

I placed my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. Could he be any more evasive? Miranda could be tied to a chair and be where she was supposed to be. By cargo, I assumed he meant they knew what we were researching and hadn’t exposed us. That was good. But I was starting to get irritated with his irritation. I just wanted a straight answer.

“Is your should be the same as mine? Because my should be is at my lab,” I stated definitively, then added, “Unharmed,” for good measure.

I thought I detected a sigh. It was such a minute movement it was hard to tell. I didn’t think he could be more condescending. I was surprised. Not pleasantly.

“The cargo and your associate are unharmed and currently doing whatever it is they do when they are not graced by your presence.”

It was my turn to arch my eyebrow at him. Feathers were a little ruffled, weren’t they? I had to admit it, I was beginning to enjoy this interplay. That was the biggest reaction I’d gotten from him yet.

I wondered what branch of government he was. I assumed these guys were government. They just had that feel. You learned to recognize it once you’ve dealt with the government long enough.

Squinting my eyes at him, I asked, “Are you with the DOD?”

He declined to respond.

“Homeland Security?” I paused, but at this point, it was only in pretense of waiting for a response. “CIA, CDC, Super-Secret Agency I’ve never heard of?”

Still nothing. How did I get this guy to play ball? I didn’t know what it was about him, but to me, it felt like he was the leader.

I straightened in my chair and considered him a moment. His hair, which was a very dark brown, was longer on top and slowly tapered to right above his suit collar. It would probably have been soft curls or at least wavy if he were to let it grow. I wondered what color his eyes were.

Bingo. He still had his shades on.

At the risk of being subjected to his brand of irritation once again, I said, “You know, we are not in the sun. You can take off your shades.”

He turned his head to face me. It was kind of creepy. Now that I had his attention, I wasn’t so sure I wanted it. With one finger, he raised his glasses above his eyes.

To say his eyes were peculiar did not do them justice. They were not strictly human eyes. I would know. Anyone who got a peek at them would know. They were a brilliant green color, and the pupil was elongated. Some sort of cat DNA maybe?

“The Director will answer all your questions,” he stated sharply, then he let the glasses slide back in place and resumed his non-interested pose.

He was a hybrid not at the Colony and clearly in a position of authority with some other government agency. That was disturbing on so many levels, but mostly because I was ignorant of his existence.

“You’re a hybrid,” I said, slightly confused.

He didn’t acknowledge my comment. Big shock.

“Are all of the Clones hybrids?” I asked.

His non response signaled that he was back to ignoring me. This could get old fast. I needed to rattle him. I knew I really shouldn’t poke the tiger, but if he thought this was over, he obviously hadn’t studied the dossier on me enough. Did he think I’d be afraid of his kitty cat eyes? Scared into silence? Please.

“Oh, my God! You’re a werewolf!” I exclaimed.

His head slowly swiveled back to me. I opened my eyes real wide and put on my most innocent face.

“I am not a wolf,” he growled softly.

I changed my mind. I could keep poking the tiger all day. Except that the twinish, non flight attendant, food lady was back, and I was distracted by the bacon and eggs she set in front of me.

Thus, I officially ended our staring contest. It wasn’t really fair anyway. I couldn’t tell if he was blinking with the sun glasses on.

While I tucked into my second tray, I wasn’t positive, but I think I saw a small lifting of the right corner of his mouth. Maybe a smile, a tiny one.

After my stomach was satisfied, I decided I needed a new dancing partner. I’d just taken my original seat back when the food lady sat down and introduced herself—I’d shortened her label to what was most currently relevant to me.

“I’m Olivia Needham,” she said smartly and a little too perky. But I thought her name fit. She was well put together, sophisticated, elegant even, except for the perky. Perky made me nervous. Made me want to find out what you were hiding with your perkiness.

Perky or not, she definitely didn’t seem like someone who should be serving food. “And what is Olivia Needham’s part in all this?” I asked.

“Besides being your new BFF?”

Clever. I smiled, acknowledging her wordplay.

“I’m a liaison of sorts. I’ll be showing you the ropes. Helping you with whatever you need. But until then, the Director—”

“The Director will answer all my questions,” I finished with her. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a time or two.” I smiled real big and waved at Catboy.

Nothing. That boy was a statue.

“You learn quickly,” she quipped.

I think she was amused. Glad I could entertain. I also wondered if she was talking about the situation or Catboy.

“Will we be landing soon?” I asked. All this travelling and non talking, talking was annoying.

“In about an hour,” she said. “You then have another short drive. You’ll see the Director first thing in the morning.”

She was a lot more informative than my last interview. Considering he told me basically nothing, that wasn’t saying much.

“And he is Director of what exactly?” I asked.

She regarded me with a half-smile on her face, but didn’t offer an answer.

Statues, the whole lot of them.

She then pulled out a brief case and began sifting through some paperwork, completely ignoring me. Question and answer time was apparently over.

I sighed and looked out my window. Not that I would recognize where we were, yet again. But there was nothing else to do but wait and mull over my future.

They obviously wanted me for something. If Catboy’s eyes were any indication, it was related to my work with hybrids. I thought if they wanted to harm me, they would have done it by now. I figured the hurting part wouldn’t come until and if I refused their offer.

Once we landed, Ms. Needham took a different vehicle, and I was back to the Catboy and Clone snuggly. So there was no talking, no iPod or Wi-Fi, not even a magazine. I had napped on the plane and wasn’t tired, but I was hungry.

“Are we going to eat anytime soon?” I asked.

In what was a shockingly immediate response to me, both Catboy and the Clone looked at me.

“What? Am I not allowed to eat?” I said defensively. Was this the way they were going to be feeding me? I’d be keeping this in mind when the negotiations started. Hopefully there would be negotiations instead of do this or die.

“Did you not eat on the plane?” said the Clone, who obviously had no appreciation for my appetite.

I turned to face him, as much as I could while stuffed between the two of them. “Yes, in fact, I did eat on the plane. However, I am no longer on the plane, and I’m hungry. Hence, the question.” A little snarky, I knew, but I was hungry, and he should have been able to figure that out because I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.

As if by magic, a goodie bag materialized in front of my face. It dangled from Catboy’s long fingers. Look who else had figured out that food was important to me. I threw a glare at the Clone and greedily reached for the bag.