Rise of the Transgenics (29 page)

“So what happens now?” he asked Farrell, who
was examining the pictures with great interest.

Farrell answered in a surprisingly thoughtful
voice. “We go on with our research. We could take you in—both of
you—but that’s going to be your call.”

With a slow yet not calculated move,
something that was more instinctive than thought of, Harry extended
the claw on his middle finger. “This is my call.”

Farrell actually chuckled at the gesture and
nodded at Harry’s newly shaped hands. “I don’t suppose you’d like
being in jail.”

“I didn’t like it much the first time.”

Harry’s observation caused Farrell to let out
a sharp laugh. A second later, he cut it short and his mood turned
serious. “No, I didn’t think you did. Therefore, as I said, it is
your call. Just so you know it, my ass is on the line, too. I was
the one who authorized bringing Anastasia back along with Merton.”
He paused to rub his chin, as if ruminating on the intransigence of
life.

“Unfortunately, Merton’s dead, so I’ll have
to take the blame for that, too,” he continued. “But the Bureau’s
going to have a hell of a time covering their actions.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Harry
noted with a smile.

Farrell’s impassive expression didn’t change.
“I’m sure we will. Officially, we’re denying that we had a role in
it.” Sighing, he added, “However, the President has been informed
of the situation and he’s taking steps to remedy it.”

Anastasia, who’d been standing quietly and
examining her claws, walked over to the agent and quietly enquired,
“Would you put us in jail?”

“No.”

The answer, quietly delivered, brought a
polite nod from her. For Harry, though, it still didn’t answer a
lot of questions. “So what happens now?”

A soft grunt came from Farrell. “When Merton
died, the entire organization got thrown into disarray. No one is
leading it now, except me. The Washington boys have asked me to
stay on as temporary Director until they get someone else...if they
want. My first act was to cut all ties with ASR. They’ll want to
study you, and,” he shook his head, “I won’t allow that.”

Grateful as Harry felt, he still didn’t trust
the agency, not entirely. “So, do you want us to keep working for
you?”

“It was our hope.” Looking at Anastasia, he
gave her a brief nod. “Your citizenship here is a given. The
President authorized it, and your passport, social security
number—everything—should come through in a matter of weeks. That’s
my promise.”

With that information, Harry thought the
matter over and glanced at Anastasia. She gave her head a quick
shake. “I, um, thanks for the citizenship,” she said, “but I’m
going to go with my boyfriend on whatever he decides.”

The message was clear. Trust, but verify. “I
think we’ll be better off on our own,” Harry said. “At least for
now, we will.”

When the agent started to protest, he held up
his hand. “Hang on a second. I didn’t say no, but Anastasia and I
need to find out if there are any more of our kind walking around.
Grushenko said there were others. You just said the same thing.
Maybe they’ve escaped and are hiding in Russia or in other
countries. We have to find them first and find out whether they’re
on our side or not. They may not be, but...” he paused to consider
his next words carefully... “Just in case, we want to do this on
our own.

“We’ll stay in touch, though. And I’ll come
back from time to time to check in with my findings.” He closed the
laptop, disconnected the modem, and hunted around for a bag.
Finding one, he slipped the equipment in along with the discs and
handed it over to Anastasia. She wore a grin and actually seemed to
be enjoying this.

“And where do you think you’re going with
that?” Farrell asked, pointing at the bag.

“Somewhere safe,” Harry replied. “Last time
we left this with you, things got smashed. They won’t with me—er,
us,” he said, pointing at his girlfriend.

Farrell’s mouth curved downward at the
corners. Clearly, he did not like being put on the defensive. “Both
of you just hear me out for a second. You saw how those Russian
agents came after us. They came after
you.
You need
protection, there’s a war going on—”

“There’s no war going on,” Anastasia
interrupted, and this time her tone turned fierce. “Not yet. This
isn’t a war, Agent Farrell. It’s not like a movie where it’s us
against you or us against them. It’s just
us.
”

She linked arms with Harry. “For now, it’s
just us, and we want to find out where we stand. At first, I didn’t
know why I’d been turned into the person I am, and now I do. I know
where I came from, know who I was, and it doesn’t matter.

“What matters is I’m happier this way, now
that...” she pulled Harry closer to her, “now that someone I care
for is with me—and is
like
me. So give me that, at the very
least.”

Farrell let a tiny sigh of what had to be
supreme frustration. With his good hand, he waved at the door. “I
called off the security. The building is empty, so you can use the
back door and take it from there.”

The young couple went to the exit, but
halfway out, Harry turned back and repeated his promise. “We’ll
check in from time to time. Count on it.”

His eyes widened when he saw Farrell toss a
key at him. “Use it,” the agent said. “No one’s going to see you up
there.”

Pocketing the key, Harry took his
girlfriend’s hand and they made their way up the stairs to the
lobby, where it was quiet. They stole out the back door into the
night, and while making their way through the back alleys—climbing
walls and jumping were no problem for Harry, not anymore.

Anastasia asked him if he was going to help
the FBI out. “I promised, didn’t I?” he said with a smile. The
smile held a look of playful deceit in it. “I just didn’t say
when.”

She giggled. “You are really bad, you know
that? Where do we go now?”

“To see a friend,” he answered. “C’mon. He’ll
be there.”

Reaching Jason’s house a couple of hours
later, Harry climbed a tree—and he marveled at how easy it was to
scale it—and knocked on Jason’s window. Tall, skinny Jason opened
up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes while he stared at his
friend. “Man, you’ve changed.”

He blinked again. Anastasia crouched behind
Harry on a branch. “Uh, it’s almost midnight, and I’ve gotta go to
school tomorrow,” he whispered after sneaking a furtive glance
behind him. “You look pretty hot,” he said to Anastasia and added,
this time looking at Harry, “You don’t.”

“Very funny.”

Jason’s smile faded somewhat. “What’s going
on? You need anything?”

Anastasia whispered something into Harry’s
ear and he relayed the message. “A couple of memory sticks, another
modem, and a computer with the biggest memory you’ve got would be
fine. I’ve got one, but I may need another.”

Jason didn’t seem fazed at all. “Hang on a
second. Be right back.”

While his friend crept out of the room, Harry
turned around and found his girlfriend gazing up at the moon.
“You’re not going to yowl, are you?”

She smacked him on the arm—gently. “No, just
looking at how pretty it is.”

“Hey, guys!”

Jason was back, and he carried a large
backpack. “Everything’s inside. Don’t worry. Find your cure, uh, I
mean, if you want one.”

Digging into his pocket, he took out the
vials he’d brought back from Russia. Handing them over, he said,
“Give these to the oncologist treating your aunt. He’ll know what
to do with them. They might help.”

Jason’s mouth dropped open, and a second
later, Anastasia moved forward to place a gentle peck on his cheek.
“Thanks,” he whispered. “See you guys later.”

Dropping gently to the ground, Anastasia
tested the air. “It’s safe. We’d better go.” She started to move
off, and then turned back. “Where are we going, anyway?”

Harry pointed with his finger. “That’s where
we’re going—north.”

They set off, keeping to the back streets,
and once at the city’s edge, they took to the forest. Anastasia set
a fast running pace, and Harry found that he could keep up with
her. Trying to keep a joyous shout from emerging, he couldn’t and
let out a “Wahoo!”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

“Is it always like this?”

“This is what it’s supposed to be like,” she
said, only panting slightly. “Free, we’re free.”

About three hours later, tired and winded,
they reached their destination, the log cabin in the Catskill
Mountains. “You’re in pretty good shape,” she commented as they
stood outside the log cabin. It was the same cabin they’d stayed in
six months earlier. Courtesy of the FBI, it was theirs to use for
however long they wanted.

“It’s ours?” Anastasia asked.

“For now it is. Farrell knows where we are,
and I’m sure they’re going to keep an eye on us.”

Entering, they set up shop. The cabin had
been upgraded since last he’d been there. Formerly, it had been a
spare place with only the basic furniture and kitchenware. Now, a
plush carpet lined the floor, it had two refrigerators, books of
all sorts on numerous shelves, a television, and Internet
connections. As he turned on the power, a generator outside began
to work, and it was a noisy one.

Harry set up his computer and got to work
right away, while Anastasia checked the larder. “Hey, it’s full,”
she announced over the din. “I’ll put some steaks on.”

“Sounds good,” he called back.

Dinner was soon ready, and when she called
him, Harry shut off the computer and switched off the generator
outside for a little peace. They ate without talking very much, but
and after finishing up, Anastasia took his hand and guided him to
the bedroom. “It’ll be quiet here,” she said, pulling him down
beside her.

“Yes, it will.”

They lay in each other’s arms, and Anastasia
popped the inevitable question. “Do you think we can actually find
the others? I mean those who are like us?”

Harry offered a gentle shrug. He honestly
didn’t know the answer, but licked his lips before replying. “If
there are, we’ll find them...or they’ll find us. Do you want to
start looking now?”

Anastasia kissed him on the mouth, her
whiskers tickling his face. Her voice came out husky and altogether
sexy, winning and girlish at the same time. “It can wait until
tomorrow.”

When he started to say something, she put her
fingers to his lips. “I know. Just don’t scratch.”

The End

J.S. Frankel was born in Toronto, Ontario, many years
ago, and managed to scrape through university, earning his degree
in English Literature.

In 1988, he moved to Japan to begin his
career of teaching English conversation to anyone brave enough to
step into his classroom. In 1997, he married the charming Akiko
Koike, and their union produced two sons, Kai and Ray. Frankel and
family make their home in Osaka, where he teaches English
conversation by day and writes until the wee hours of the morning.
He is the author of
Catnip, Catnip 2: Rise of the Transgenics,
Death Bytes, Twisted, and the Lindsay/Jo Trilogy.
Next to his
family, writing remains his greatest love.