Sons of Atreus
Title: Sons of Atreus, Part II
Fandom: none, original fic
Word Count: ~25k
Genre: gen, horror
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Gratuitous abuse of medical science.
Summary: Dr. Kathy Duncan's foray into the private sector places her in the sights of Eichel Corporation. Feeling uneasy after the interview, she rejects their job offer. Unfortunately for Dr. Duncan Eichel Corporation isn't going to take no for an answer. Because they need her expertise in order to stop a genetic disorder from wiping out hundreds of people in the next decade, they are willing to spend millions ensuring that she changes her mind. And that's just the start of what they are willing to do.
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Peter deftly flipped the half-dollar on his knuckles. It was one of a bevy of tests to see if his reflexes had fully returned after a trans. A dry chuckle told him Bobby was watching him.
“I could never do that,” Bobby said.
Peter turned to look at his older brother. He wondered if Dr. Duncan noticed that in spite of a head of silver-grey hair, the face was smooth and unlined, save for the deep bloodhound grooves bracketing the generous mouth.
It was a face made for smiling, as Peter had witnessed over the years. But, as the progress of his disease marched ever onwards, the smiles and laughter came less and less. Peter wondered if Bobby even noticed the slow death of his humor. And if he did: blame Peter for it.
When he spotted the same concerned look that Bobby always bestowed on him, Peter kicked himself. Bobby had always shown nothing but devotion and care for him. Even when Peter had first transformed into a murderous beast, it was Bobby who swayed their parents from permanently locking him away in an isolated unit - a common procedure in their childhood.
It was also Bobby’s unfailing kindness that changed so many practices amongst their clan. That mixed with their scientific know-how had wrought great benefits for everyone. And now, with Duncan on-board, they could afford even greater hopes.
“So, what do you think of her?” Bobby asked.
“She reminds of me a collie,” Peter answered, then blushed. “That’s not a derogatory thing by the way.”
“And how did that observation come about?”
“Very intelligent, resourceful but cautious. And in spite of what the papers say, she’s got one hell of a temper.”
“You notice that?” Bobby said with a grin. “But why a collie for God’s sake?”
“She’s colorful,” Peter blurted out, his blush now completely overruning his face.
Bobby smiled as he remembered the description Duncan’s oldest brother gave about his sister in a teasing e-mail.
The bastard love child between George Hamilton and Carrot Top.
Bobby thought the description a little cruel but then the practice of casual cruelty did run amok when it came to sibling relationships. Unable to ignore his curiosity after reading that odd description, Bobby went looking for a family picture. He found them easily enough on Facebook as the entire family was networked.
The mother was an Iranian-born who married a visiting engineer at the height of the Shah’s regime. The father was American whose parents came from rougher parts of Dundee, a city reputed with nothing but rough parts. Their sons had taken after their father with their flaming red hair, freckles, and faces that required SPF50 or higher during the warmer months. The only daughter had inherited the mother’s complexion along with the brown eyes. Combine that with the curly red hair and freckles, her looks were quite unusual.
Bobby knew it didn’t bother the doctor a whit, but he wondered if it was because she was teased so much as a child or it never mattered to her to begin with.
“Do you think she’ll take the job?” Peter asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Bobby answered. “She…” His cell rang and he didn’t finish the sentence. The call was brief but managed to completely ruin Bobby’s good mood.
“What is it?” Peter asked, dreading the answer.
“She stumbled over Darren’s place.”
Peter moaned. “Jonathan’s in trans tonight. Shit!”
“Needless to say she’s shaken.”
“Did she see anything?”
“No, Hollis managed to stop her from coming close to the house,” Bobby said. “But now she’s seen it up close, maybe too close. You have to remember she has spent her entire career in a lab.”
Peter gave a worried glance towards his brother. “Do you think she’ll change her mind?”
“I think it might have been changed for her,” Bobby concluded.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Peter offered. “Maybe help the pendulum swing our way again?”
“Can you do that?”
Peter nodded. “I’m good now.” He crinkled his nose and added, “Not to mention my scent won’t be so bothersome anymore.”
“We should wait until morning. We don’t want to seem too eager and scare her away.”
Peter gave a small yawn and a tired smile before retiring. Bobby stayed behind and studied the latest results from the lab. He’d do this until eleven when he’d swim his usual laps before going to bed.
It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that a thought occurred to him. If Peter did convince Duncan to take the job, would it be necessary to tell her about her predecessors? Even though he wanted to avoid that topic, she would sooner or later learn of Singh and Jacobs.
That headache’s for tomorrow, Bobby thought. With that he closed his eyes and fell into uneasy sleep, not knowing the same idea was plaguing his brother into his bed.
Though Kathy was repeatedly told she would be able to leave any time she wanted, she stayed on the island. Kathy wanted to study the people who suffered from a disease that had mythical proportions.
However, if there were anything more to be discovered, she didn’t find it. And the morning of the fourth day Kathy decided to make plans to leave in the afternoon. The day began lovely enough that she took another stroll towards the cemetery. Since she never planned to return, Kathy wanted to collect as much data as possible before she left.
She was studying the newest headstones located on the left corner of the cemetery when she heard a sermon echoing from a large hill that seemed to act as a natural fence for the burial ground. Kathy took a peek and found herself studying a funeral. Good manners dictated that she had no right to witness what was a private mourning but when she realized whom the funeral was dedicated to, Kathy couldn’t force herself to move.
She stood still, unable to process what she was witnessing. But the large portrait of the deceased was not a symptom of her losing her mind. It was the child she’d met only three days before. The girl was younger in the photo, but the luminous, grave eyes were the same. However, in the picture she was smiling widely and her gaze was off to her left, probably towards the person who managed to wrangle the laugh from her.
Kathy’s gaze veered towards the grieving family with their friends surrounding them like bodyguards. And amongst them was a familiar face: Bobby.
The group sat down on the plastic chairs and without preamble, the man at the head of the casket began speaking.
“We are here today to witness the loss of another member in our family: Naomi Yishino. She was not even thirteen when she decided that this life was too painful for someone as delicate as she. And now here we are, all are asking the same question, aren’t we? Why did this happen?
“The answer is simple: we, her elders, failed her.
“We saw a child but we didn’t know how to shield her. We saw a fellow Wanderer but we didn’t know how to point her way home. And now, here we stand, our failure so plain to see.
“Let us never forget today, so that when we meet another Wanderer, we will have the courage, the will, and the patience to help her on her way … towards home.”
There were no religious overtones at all as few people stood up to recount stories of the dead child, including a little girl who bore great resemblance to Naomi Yishino.
Her sister, Kathy concluded. Oh sweet Jesus, that’s her baby sister.
Kathy stood immobile, half shielded by a wind-carved madrona, and watched the ceremony to its conclusion. The family around the sister immediately made a tight circle around her and marched down the hill, unwilling or unable to respond to the outpouring of sympathies directed at them.
“You should leave now,” a soft voice spoke from behind Kathy’s right shoulder.
She turned to Bobby. “What happened? Did she commit suicide?”
“Yes, she did. She cut her wrists.”
“Why? Did she transform and hurt someone?”
“Hardly,” he answered. “She witnessed her father murdering her mother while he was in his other form. The man came to us after that and left his daughters in our care. He hasn’t been seen since.”
“He dumped them?” Kathy didn’t know whether to be outraged by the children’s abandonment after such an ordeal or relieved that the father had the common sense to entrust his daughters to safer care.
Bobby looked at the fresh grave and the caretakers now filling the site with dirt. “We think he might have committed suicide.”
“What’s going to happen to the second child?”
“Jenna will stay with the family she’d been placed with,” Bobby explained. “Jackson and Delilah are the only ones on the island fluent in Japanese besides myself.”
“How many?” Kathy asked.
Bobby did not answer. He walked away, his face firmly planted downwards as if he was navigating a treacherous icy walkway instead of a gently sloping gravel path.
I don’t want to deal with this, Kathy thought as she continued to stare at the pitifully small grave. I can’t deal with this.
And yet, she remained in her spot, unmoving like the tree next to her until the sun began sinking. Not feeling the damp salty air seep through her fleece jacket, Kathy quietly trudged back to the inn. The first thing she did was hastily shove her few belongings into her backpack. The next was to use her iPhone to pull up the ferry schedule. There was one departing from the harbor to Orca Island in an hour.
Kathy was getting off the bed and heading towards the door when her knees finally gave in. Panicking, she seriously considered crawling but stopped when she realized how foolish the idea was.
Her first instinct was to curse everyone who got her into this situation, which to be honest included herself. But, once again, her common sense forbade her from using all her emotional steam on something so ineffectual. And might even cause her actual harm, if only have the innkeeper call the local law enforcement personnel and lock her up for bizarre behavior.
But Kathy knew that wouldn’t happen. The Eichel brothers would intervene as they probably had someone watching her and report anything that might interest them.
She sat on the plush carpet, absently combing through the beige fabric as her mind raced to consider all her options even though the conclusion was already made for her.
I have to take the job, Kathy thought. There’s no way I could go back to my life in Boston when I know this is happening to them day after day, week after week for only God knows how long. Years? Centuries? Maybe even more?
With a weary sigh Kathy stood up in order to get her cell. She dialed Bobby’s number. “Can I meet with you tomorrow morning?”
“Of course, come by the house when you’re ready,” Bobby said.
“Thanks.” Kathy wanted to ask few more questions but decided not to. She was so tired and emotionally battered, the only thing she could do was go to bed.
Bobby sat back in his armchair and sighed in relief. He knew he’d played it hard when he spotted Duncan at Naomi’s funeral but he was desperate. And unless she was made out of concrete, Bobby knew she would reconsider her answer.
He smiled: Peter honestly believed she already did after having a heartfelt meeting with him.
He knew better.
Kathy Duncan wasn’t very imaginative. She had built a fortress with her work and personal life, as her parents had wished. And a life in his world would not only terrify her, but also destroy the few tightly-held beliefs she had in ways unimaginable to her.
We will have to be careful with her, Bobby concluded. We can’t overload her too quickly. She could become unpredictable then.
He heard snuffling noises from the baby monitor and smiled. Peter had made the same sounds since he was a child. Bobby amped the receiver's volume before going to bed. He had been doing this ever since their father died.
Bobby had thought his father’s practice of listening in while Peter was sleeping had become invasive when his brother turned fourteen. Then his brother transformed one night because of a nightmare. Peter had destroyed the entire second floor and had nearly gotten into the panic room where his family had taken shelter before transforming back.
The older brother had learned his lesson.
“So, what … how … what is going on, exactly?” Kathy asked after eating only a croissant she heisted from a buffet that looked like it could easily feed the Patriots and all their fans. All of which confused her as Peter was absent from the breakfast table
“It’s male-only trait as far as we know, though female inheritors can be carriers,” Bobby continued. “We’ve been able to trace it back to Eastern Europe and that’s where the trail ends.”
“Does it manifest itself in any way in the daughters?”
“Their health is nearly perfect.”
“Perfect?” Kathy echoed. “How?”
“No cold, no flu, no headaches. They don’t suffer from diabetes. They don’t have weight problems or heart problems. They don’t suffer from any liver problems.
“They don’t even have to bother going in for annual checkups because they don’t get sick. The same goes for the male heirs, also.”
Kathy blinked stupidly, unable to say anything.
Bobby took a look at her and noted the shock clearly scrawled across her face. “There is a problem, and you can laugh at it if you want. Though I’d prefer you to refrain from doing so. We have an … imperative, you might say. We need to procreate.”
Kathy’s curiosity overrode her shock. “What?”
“We have to have children. Or at least try.”
“I still don’t understand,” Kathy said.
“The fabled biological clock?” Bobby said with sarcastic humor. “It’s more like a ticking time bomb for us. We’ve tried hormone therapy and steroids, but the drive is unconquerable for those who are afflicted.”
"But you’re not, are you?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, when I was born, my parents were terrified. But after I passed my thirteenth birthday, they realized for reasons not quite clear back then, that I was spared.
“Of course, now we know definitively that there are sons who can be carriers only.”
“Do the symptoms manifest in other ways?”
Bobby smirked a little. “Our immune system isn’t as well developed as those who are fully affected, but we are pretty healthy. And, yes, the drive to have children is overwhelming also.”
“You have a family, then?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, I decided not to take the risk, and my time is completely consumed by my work.”
Kathy thought for a moment and then asked, “How?”
“You must have heard of chemical castration.”
Kathy recoiled at the confession. Then felt ashamed by her reaction. He’d taken the medication willingly, so he could take care of Peter and never lose focus on whatever their goal was.
Bobby took a drink of his tea and continued. “I’ve been on and off the cocktail for years. It’s been scheduled in a cycle in order to minimize the damage.”
Kathy cleared her throat and said, “I’m guessing that doesn’t help control the transformation?”
He shook his head. “None. Especially when the afflicted are children. That’s the worst time for all concerned. The child can trans for many reasons. Some of them are impossible to predict.”
“So the howling at the full moon?”
Bobby’s quirked lips turned into a full smile. “Complete misdirection. Perhaps in the distant past the lunar cycle may have played a part, but nowadays it’s physical and emotional stress that are the triggers.”
Kathy mulled that over. “No wonder the teenage years are the most difficult.”
“You can just imagine, on top of what is already a stressful time, the fear of having this disease; it’s almost self-fulfilling in a way.”
“How is that managed?”
“In my father’s time, mostly through various opiates and cocktails of anti-anxiety medication. But we’ve discovered their efficacy wears down over time. So, when families have someone who is a Wanderer, they build a panic room next to the child’s bedroom.
“That way, the kid has a safe haven in which to trans and not injure himself.”
“What about the family?”
“By the time they have children, they are well versed in dealing with escape routes. There’s a reason why most of us have heavy-duty SUVs and modified sedans. Also, all of us have a second panic room in case the child escapes their confinement somehow.
“That we learned the hard way.”
“Does this get easier as the person grows older?”
“Mercifully, yes,” Bobby said with a tired sigh. “But it takes time and a lot of conditioning. Most of them don’t have any kind of self-awareness in their trans state until they’re well into their twenties. And that’s debatable if the trans was triggered by an emotional upheaval.”
“But the older they get, the longer it takes to trans?”
“Yes, the older you become, the longer it takes.”
Kathy watched Bobby take a deep breath. She waited with anticipation, wondering what other bombs he was going to drop.
“There’s another, equally pressing concern. And it doesn’t have to do with the violent nature of the transformation.
“It’s the aging process.”
“How is that affected?” Kathy was already dreading the answer even as the question fell from her lips.
“The immune system that is so helpful in our youth turns against us when we hit forties or early fifties. For those who are directly afflicted, they’ll never see the other side of sixty. For others like myself - female and male - we might reach sixty-five, sixty-six? None of us has ever seen the other side of seventy.”
“Guillain-Barre? MS? Lupus?” Kathy asked. “Is it treatable in any way?”
“Try all of the above and then some,” Bobby answered. “Once the clock starts winding down, the degeneration happens quickly. Within two or three months, the patient is dead.
“My father believed and I do now that this is why there is such a drive to have progeny. Since we don’t live for long, this … thing almost has an overriding directive to continue, hence our need to have children.”
“Do you know what this is? At all?”
“Yes we do. It's the anterior lobe of the pituitary gland we call T-C. It starts production hormone A-1 as soon as the baby is born. There are no visible differences until the child reaches the age between eight and ten. Then, Hormone A-2 starts being produced. Soon thereafter changes are visible.”
“But you can’t treat them because…”
“We tried, but every damn result is the same. After a procedure has been performed, the gland begins production as if nothing has happened. It just kick-starts and in some cases go into overdrive as if to make up for lost time. And when that happens, the patient falls into dementia. Some even transed and stayed in that state, unable to return to their human form.”
“So … it’s foolproof?”
“Seems like it,” Bobby agreed. “We’ve tried surgically removing T-C, but the cells regenerate and begin production again.”
“What about the hormones?”
“We’ve tried suppressants, treatments to counter effect the hormones. They’ve all failed. If the A-1 and A-2 hormones are not detected in the body, again, the gland goes into an overdrive, and we’ve got the same damn problems.”
“For those who are stuck in that state - what happens to them?”
“Nobody can survive in the transed state for long. Their lungs can’t take in enough oxygen, their hearts can’t beat fast enough or long enough: they die of total organ failure within days. I have never read of anyone surviving over four days in that state.”
“What happens if they attack anyone else? Is this disease transferable that way?”
“No, that’s another myth,” Bobby said. “The only people who can survive a werewolf attack is already a werewolf. Hence why people believed that werewolf’s bite was a curse. The truth is the attacks are usually so violent, that unless the victim already has the immune system of one, they cannot possibly survive.
“And, there’s the ugly fact that we are very territorial in that state. If there’s another werewolf within a defined area of ‘home’ then the original Wanderer will feel threatened and carry out an attack if only to protect their territory.”
“How can you live together like this?”
“Simple, we take drugs and our panic rooms are pretty damn near impossible to break.”
“I was told by a kid…”
“I heard about that,” Bobby interrupted softly but implacably. “The person afflicted was a child. And they are extremely responsive to any stranger within striking distance.”
“How do you deal with all this?”
“I learned to cope,” was the succinct reply.
“If I’m to believe all that you’ve told me,” Kathy asked, “then how old are you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Fifty? Fifty-five maybe?”
The smile came back but it was bitter. “I am forty-one, actually. The grey hair is due to the aging process kicking in.”
“How long do you have?”
“A year, maybe eighteen months? This is another reason why I went to such extremes with you. My time on this earth can be measured in days now.
‘The safety of my brother is my first concern, and I will see him safe if it’s the last thing I do.”
“It might just be the last thing you do,” Kathy said.
Bobby looked at her with open appreciation. “You’re right, but it won’t do anything to change my mind.”
“Does Peter know?”
“He suspects,” Bobby said. “But he’s not quite aware of the side effects on people who are just carriers.”
“When are you going to tell him?”
“If you’re going to help - maybe never?”
“That’s a low blow.”
Bobby grinned. “Like I said, extreme measures.”
“I’m guessing there’s a lab with my name on it somewhere?”
“It even has your favorite coffee maker: Espressione.”
“Do I even want to know how you found that out?”
“I don’t know - do you?”
Kathy shook her head. “No. I grew up with too many brothers to be that stupid.”
Bobby burst out in laughter. It sounded even sweeter because it was so unexpected. “Thank you. I know you’re not entirely comfortable with all this, but I do appreciate your understanding, not to mention your honesty.”
A deep sigh exploded as Kathy finally relaxed. “You have no idea how glad I am you have a sense of humor. My previous experiences taught me otherwise.”
“Having a sense of humor is a requirement in the job you’re about to take.”
“So, what happens now?”
“You rest first. This is a lot to digest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Kathy was annoyed that he’d read her so easily and grateful that he did because she was exhausted.
When she’d returned to her room at the inn, there was a glass of what she thought initially was tea. It turned out to be a hot toddy.
She couldn’t stop grinning even as she tossed it back. Have to admit, this bribe thing is nice!
Then she collapsed into bed, not even bothering to take a shower or brush her teeth.
Peter took a healthy swig of orange juice right from the jar. He was glad Bobby was still at the lab. He suspected his brother was actually recording down the amount of food he was eating in the hopes of somehow finding the magic bullet that was going to control the disorder.
A familiar scent drifted under his nose. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Is it a disease or disorder?” he asked. “I could never figure it out.”
“It’s both,” Bobby answered.
“The CIA really missed an opportunity with you,” Peter said. “When did you get home?”
“Fifteen minutes ago,” Bobby said. “The Jeep’s been having problems with brakes. I had to use the Lexus.”
“Figures why I didn’t hear you come in the garage.”
Bobby smiled. “I’m getting better at this, aren’t I?”
Peter gave a matching smile when he caught the hint of pride in his brother’s voice. It was always a marvel about what Bobby took pride in, be it flying a kite above the treeline or successfully subduing three home-invasion thugs with a nine iron.
“Do you want some orange juice?” Bobby offered, gently shaking the jar.
Bobby shook his head and patted his stomach. “No, just going to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow if Duncan stays.”
“She’s going to stay,” Peter said confidently.
Bobby made some noises and walked away. Peter looked at his brother fondly. Even though they were more than a decade apart, Peter was already as big as Bobby, and was probably going to be bigger once he hit his mid-twenties.
But Peter knew better than to be fooled by Bobby’s thinness. Years ago Deco pharmacon sent three men to throw Bobby’s condo to find intel on Eichel’s latest immune suppressant. When the men didn’t find anything, they decided to wait for the president of the company.
They jumped Bobby the moment he came through the front door. And that was the last time they had any advantage over their target. Using his briefcase and the golf bag in the hallway, Bobby beat the three men into unconsciousness. He then pulled out their molars with pliers before the security team dragged them off.
After finding out who had hired the men, he had the teeth delivered to their Head of Security, Chief of Finance, and Chief of Operations by the way of their first coffee in the morning.
He was never bothered by that particular company again, or any other for that matter.
Peter never questioned the level of violence Bobby had used. His brother had little to no flair for the dramatics, so if he thought that much bloodshed was necessary, then Peter readily agreed. After all, if it were up to him, the men who meant to torture and maybe even kill his brother would be nothing but strands of meat between his teeth.
Peter wondered when he had accepted such violence into his psyche without second thought.
Bobby’s my brother, Peter thought resolutely. He deserves a family, with five or six kids crawling around his ankles, laughing with him. He deserves a wife who wears her Phi Beta Kappa key on her key ring just because it amuses her husband.
Bobby felt tears burn their trail down the corner of his eyes and onto his cheeks. He deserves to be thirty pounds heavier; a corner office in a nice hospital that has great health insurance coverage for cancer and not reconstructive surgery because his patients have a habit of ripping their caretakers’ faces off with their claws. He deserves a brother who doesn’t become a psychotic homicidal monster whenever life gets too hard for him.
In spite of his maudlin thoughts, Peter wiped all traces of his tears before he went upstairs. Just in case he bumped into Bobby in the hallway.
Jason stood up from the sofa and stretched as he waited for Jackson to come in. He wasn’t sure if the wetwork operator would appear but he had little choice. Avers was on the clock as neither Robert nor Peter knew about this particular meeting.
He had kept them in the dark. Mainly because he was only too aware of what they would say if they found out: Stop.
But Jay knew better. Jackson, or whoever he was, knew too much about them to go about freely. Sooner or later, Jackson would be tempted to use whatever information he had to gain some ground. And Jay couldn’t allow that.
The door opened and a burly man stepped in. Jay was surprised to note how short the assassin was. He expected Jackson to be at least six feet and possess the neck the size of a bull’s.
“Nice to meet you finally,” Jackson said.
“Please come in,” Avers replied warmly. “Sit.”
Jackson warily eyed the sumptuous leather armchair before sitting down on it. Avers didn’t bother to offer anything to drink or polite talk.
“I want to offer you a job,” he said.
The guest seemed taken back. “What kind of job?”
“I want you to work for my firm on a permanent basis,” Jay said. “We need a strong man like you to protect our more … fragile assets. Before you ask, we already have security members for that, but they’re not willing to go far as you to protect their charge.”
Jackson nodded. “I see. And these charges?”
“Scientists who are overworked, overwrought, and have a personal life of a common food mold,” Jay answered.
“And I’d probably scare them from doing something stupid, right?”
“There is that, but these people are way too self-involved for suicide or even attempted suicide,” Jay answered. “Are you interested?”
Jackson stood up. “I’ll consider it.”
“Good, that’s all I wanted to talk about,” Avers said, standing up. “Call me when you’ve made up your mind.”
Jackson gave a terse nod before leaving. Avers began packing his briefcase as Jackson closed the door behind him. But, as soon as he heard the door to the stairwell close, Avers pulled out a small bag he'd hidden earlier and rushed to the door of the temporary office he’d rented under false identity.
After donning two pairs of gloves, he industriously wiped the door handles on both sides of the door with Clorox wipes followed by paper towels, then shoved the whole mess in a small airtight plastic container. The neurotoxin he’d coated the handles with was slow acting, which meant Jackson would have his first seizure on the I-90. And if the ensuing traffic accident didn’t kill him, the poison would.
Avers took the stairs to the basement in order to exit out the service entrance. Instead of driving, he took the T, which made it easy for him to see if he was being followed. He got off at Government Center and walked over to Faneuil Hall, just in case he did have a tail. He spent the next two hours carousing with tourists while eating bad food.
By the time Avers reached Wellesley Inn, the eleven o’clock news was on. He caught the brief story about the traffic accident on the Mass Turnpike; a rental suddenly swerved and collided onto the concrete divider on the ramp to Logan Airport.
The driver was pronounced dead on the scene, though his identity hadn’t been made public, the reporter on scene believed the man to be a visitor to the Boston area.
Avers gave a sigh of relief and got ready for bed.
Finally, this mess is cleaned up.
Avers called the front desk for the usual five am ring and went to sleep.
Kathy woke up and was happy to note she did not feel any nervousness or self-doubt. Now that she’d made up her mind, the path ahead was clear.
The first order of business would be to make arrangements for the move to Washington, though she still had no idea where the lab was.
After a hearty breakfast, Kathy made her way to the mansion. She wasn’t surprised to see the front gate wide open, as if Bobby was waiting for her to return.
Confident bastard, she thought with a smile. Wish I had his bravado.
She strolled into the front garden and admired the flowers, along with the brand new Lexus parked alongside the main entrance. Fighting down the urge to peek inside the cockpit to check out the latest gadgets, Kathy instead knocked on the front door.
Peter opened it, chomping on the largest glazed donut she’d ever seen. He gave a toothy grin and said, “Come in. Want some breakfast?”
“Any left?” she asked.
“Bobby always makes sure there’s enough food in the house.”
Kathy was about to make a wisecrack about how cranky Peter could get without his sugar fix, but then kept her peace. For all she knew, it might be murderously true.
Peter led her to the sunroom where a sumptuous breakfast spread took the entire sideboard.
“Good morning,” Bobby said as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
“You knew I’d take the job, didn’t you?”
Bobby gave a small shrug. “I thought the challenge would be too tempting.”
“So, if I sign the goddamn contract,” Kathy took a sip of the coffee placed in front of her by Peter, “will I get the whole pie, then?”
“I don’t see why not,” Bobby said. “The last thing we need is our people working in the dark.”
“Where do I sign?”
Jay smiled when he got Bobby’s call. “That is excellent. So, she’s on board?”
“Yes she is. I’m going to bring her to the lab now.”
“How is she doing?”
“Now that she’s more or less over her initial trauma, her curiosity has gotten the better of her.”
“How do you think she’ll do?”
“She’ll adjust pretty quickly. I’ll know more after the tour.”
“Go easy on her, Bobby. She’s been through quite an ordeal.”
“Too late for that, Jay.”
Jason Avers felt his years even as he smiled at Bobby’s quip. He wondered how much longer he could go working for them before he was forced to resign. He knew wasn’t going to get fired or become a victim of one of Bobby's quiet removals.
No, Jay had plans.
He was going to spend what few years he had some sunny place, filled with scantily-clad women. And fruity drinks.
The only time he was ever going to return to Washington was for his funeral. Or the day the Eichel brothers found the cure.
Not going to happen in my lifetime, Jay thought sourly. Especially since my lifetime could be measured in months now.
“Can I please see the lab?” Kathy asked.
“Follow me,” Bobby answered. He led her out of the mansion and into the driveway where a Jeep was stowed. “We’re going to drive there.”
“The lab is on the island?”
“There are two: One in Seattle and one here,” Bobby explained as he helped Kathy strap herself into her seat with the five-point harness system. “The one in Seattle generates the work we do for other companies. The one here is completely focused on the Atreus Disorder.”
“That’s its name?”
Bobby nodded. “It was coined by my grandfather who was also afflicted like Peter. He was a doctor in his town.”
“Were there others like him?”
Bobby nodded. “There were quite a few, nearly thirty-five percent of the town was either a carrier or a sufferer.”
“The rest?”
“Had no idea,” Bobby said. “They were mostly patients at my grandfather’s sanitarium. He was a renowned specialist in pulmonary disorders and had opened a spa of sorts in the thirties.”
“Oh,” Kathy said. “By the way, where are we going?”
Bobby pointed to a dirt road to the right of the path they were on. “There.”
It didn’t take long for Kathy to understand why a Jeep was necessary. The road was completely unpaved and there were deep ruts of dried mud that would’ve killed most suspension systems. Then, to confirm her thoughts, the Jeep bounced violently, almost knocking Kathy right into the dashboard.
“Ever thought about putting in a road here?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“No,” Bobby answered. “We don’t want anyone to know about the lab. Especially the government.”
“They have no idea? Seriously?” Kathy was surprised. From her experience the federal government and the military seemed to have their fingers in every pie available.
“They cannot,” Bobby said. “Our immune system is so highly specialized that the temptation to use us for their military programs would be too much.
“They’ll make up some acceptable excuse to treat us like monkeys in a cage, and that particular slippery slope is very slippery if history is anything to go by.”
Kathy blanched. She knew he wasn’t only talking about the Nazis, but also what the U.S. government had done to its own people: its own soldiers.
“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” Bobby said. “But we both know I’m telling the truth. Just an unpopular one.”
After a moment of heavy silence punctuated by the Jeep bouncing on the dirt road, Kathy said, “So, the lab?”
Bobby pulled into what looked like a glen devastated by a fire. He parked next to the biggest tree and got out. Kathy wordlessly followed.
Bobby took a path that was completely overgrown with what Kathy nervously identified as poison ivy. Without warning he made a sharp left and disappeared from view.
“Hey!” Kathy cried out softly and trotted after him but came to an abrupt stop when she saw the entrance to the lab. It was so perfectly camouflaged that unless a person was standing no closer than five feet, it was invisible to the naked eye.
Bobby peeked out of the open door and said, “Come in.”
Feeling slightly giddy, Kathy walked in. “Will Dr. Xavier be greeting us?”
“Who’s Dr. Xavier?”
“Nobody special. Lead the way.”
As Bobby led her without hesitation through a host of corridors, Kathy noticed the various high-tech monitoring equipments mounted on the walls. And, in spite of the discomfort at the surveillance equipment being so liberally used, Kathy admired the money and the technology that went into security.
“We’re here,” Bobby said as he slid a card key into a slot in a wall. “Please, come in.”
She stepped into a clean room with barely any furniture. There was a desk, two chairs, and a phone.
“Um,” Kathy said. “I’m not going to be interrogated, right?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, this room is for cleaning.”
“Am I going to have to take off my clothes?”
Bobby nodded, looking completely at ease with the idea. “There will be a female assistant with a box. You’ll have to put all your personal belongings into it.
"Everything will be returned to you when you’re done.”
“Is this normal procedure?”
“Yes, for the first week of work,” Bobby answered. “Then a locker will be assigned to you.”
“Okay,” Kathy took a deep breath. “This is a lot like working for the Pentagon.”
“That’s where we got the procedure from.”
“You know that’s not a good thing, right?”
Bobby gave a small shrug and left the room. Soon thereafter, a petite brunette entered. Her business-like demeanor was soothing as Kathy stripped naked. In return she gave scrubs along with disposable underclothing, for which Kathy was extremely grateful.
The woman waited while Kathy filled the box with her belongings. After Kathy sealed the box, the assistant gave a small smile, briskly handed over a plastic ID badge, and left with the container.
Kathy thumbed the ID tag and wondered what kind of access she was going to be given.
Keys to the Kingdom, maybe? she thought with amusement.
Bobby reappeared and politely led her down further into the corridor where both key cards were necessary to gain access. As soon as Kathy entered she understood why.
The lab’s technology was so advanced that most of the equipment were foreign to her. She examined the vast layout before noticing two technicians working around their stations.
“This is amazing,” Kathy whispered. “I can’t even begin to imagine the cost that went into this.”
“The heat bloom generated by our lab is something that we have to work on constantly,” Bobby explained. “And the latest technology usually drains the least amount of energy so it helps to be up-to-date with the newest and the greatest.
“And before you ask; we can definitely afford to do so.”
“So, what is all this about?”
“For that, you have to go to another room.”
She followed him to an adjacent lab that was half the size of the previous one, but it was also equipped with technology she could barely identify, let alone handle.
“You lost me,” Kathy confessed.
Bobby turned on a workstation and swirled the monitor so she could read it. Kathy skimmed over the material presented to her.
“No wonder … I see now,” Kathy said as she leaned closer to reread the information availed to her.
Bobby crossed his arms and casually leaned against a wall: a posture that was a little too relaxed for a man like him. “We need your expertise to create a virus, a carrier to infect the gland, disabling it.
“We’ve given up on the hope of killing it because in all likelihood, the attempt would also kill the host. But we could try to infect the gland to the point where it could be prevented from forcing the person to fully transform. Maybe even retain their human factor during the trans.”
“That way the immune system could be preserved,” Kathy said. “But the aging process?”
“That’s trickier, but for right now we’re more concerned with those more severely afflicted.”
“But you’re one of them!”
“So is my brother,” Bobby shot back. “And to put it bluntly, controlling his trans is more important considering the level of violence the afflicted are capable of.”
Kathy gave a reluctant nod of agreement and sat down on an ergonomic chair that probably cost more than her entire bedroom set. “Can we talk more about the Atreus Disorder now?”
“We named it after a mythological figure,” Bobby said.
“I know of it,” Kathy interrupted. “My second brother studied Greek mythology during college.”
“Like I said yesterday, it is a genetic disorder. Male inheritors are the only ones to show any symptoms that end in trans.”
“And the women?”
“Superior health, good vision, something of a hard sex drive, or at least the desire to procreate. Unfortunately the aging process is also accelerated.”
“The male inheritors? What about them?”
“The symptoms show up in the preteens. Usually insomnia, and hyperpigmentation that occurs only on the face. That followed by increasing inability to deal with stress which could end in mild seizures.”
“They blank out?”
Bobby nodded. “That and some light trembling on the outer limbs. Surprisingly there are no temper tantrums.”
“Because they’re scared,” Kathy whispered. “They know what the symptoms mean so they’re doing all they can to not let it happen to them.”
“It’s pretty fucking tragic, actually. They become these … these robots who get perfect grades, perfect attendance records. The parents are driving themselves insane because they know what’s coming around the corner. But the kids aren’t willing to admit to the fact, and they usually don’t until they actually trans.
“Then … you can imagine what happens after that.”
“What do you want the virus to do?”
“To have the person retain their human consciousness even during the trans.”
“How is that even possible?”
“We are trying to isolate the compound in the gland that triggers hyper-violent behavior. The older members are not as violent, and some have even managed to control their responses to the point that they do not need to be contained.
“Our lab has discovered that the secretions change as the afflicted grow older. We are isolating the compounds to see which ones need to be amplified or removed.”
“And after that, it’s my show?”
“Yes, definitely,” Bobby looked beseechingly at her. “You realize what kind of dedication will be required to create a viral carrier?”
“Considering the limited success rate so far, I’m guessing a lot.”
“That’s actually not true,” Bobby countered. “The military had made some leeway. Unfortunately they were forced to reevaluate their research when the test animals … failed to survive.”
“I don’t want to know anymore,” Kathy said hurriedly. She was well aware that when it came to the Pentagon, the less you know, the better.
“I wasn’t planning to tell you any more,” Bobby said grimly. “I am well aware of the reluctance the academic world has when it comes to that particular sector.”
“How do we do this?”
“First we find you temporary housing here. Then a permanent one if you wish. The choice is up to you.”
Kathy felt better as soon as she heard his offer. “By the way, is there a salon on the island?”
The question seemed have taken Bobby by surprise. “Why?”
She pointed at the frazzled nest that was her hair. “If I have to stay here for any length of time I need to either shave my head or get this under control.”
Bobby stared at the impromptu copper fro and smiled. “Melissa Benik has a place. It’s the only one in Wade but she’s good. She could probably help you get a handle on your little cosmetic problem.”
“Little?” Kathy scoffed. “That’s like saying Godzilla has thyroid trouble.”
Bobby broke out into full laughter. Kathy basked in his humor and allowed herself to finally see the person behind the chair. She wasn’t fooling herself: Robert Eichel was dangerous man made even more dangerous because of his love and loyalty to family and friends.
What she now wondered was if they were just as loyal to him as he was to them.
“Please follow me. I’ll start your registration process so you could have the access you need.”
“Sounds good.”
They were walking down the hall when Bobby blurted out, “Aren’t you at all curious about what is in store for you?”
She shook her head. “No, my parents taught me to never borrow trouble.” She pronounced the words ‘borrow trouble’ with the definite burr. “And I’m not so ignorant that I don’t realize what is required of me at my new job. So, now, my focus is on what I have to do to come here and not rouse any suspicion.”
“Your brothers?”
“Yeah, they are pretty protective of me,” Kathy explained, smiling. “And they’re going to wonder what convinced me make such a huge transition.”
“They’ll visit?”
“Count on it.”
“They’ll have to be monitored,” Bobby said, “for their own sake.”
“Like I did when I first arrived?”
“Nowhere near that severity. We had to ensure you were safe at all cost. We were also under the burden to convince you to accept the position.
“Believe me when I say we were shooting with all barrels. I still can’t believe you accepted the job.”
“Really?”
“The truth is we were more desperate for you to accept than you were to leave.”
“So you must be close to isolating the compounds then.”
Bobby nodded. “Very.” He pointed at an unmarked door and said, “Here we are.”
This room was decorated like a sumptuous office for a Princeton Dean; all the available wall space was lined with walnut bookshelves and near the center of the room was a desk the size of a twin bed. Bobby quickly got to work on his computer. Kathy noted that it had no brand identification and suspected it was made in-house to minimize outside tampering.
The printer began spitting up reams of paper, which Bobby dutifully handed over to Kathy. She read it thoroughly even though at incredibly fast speed. It was a trick she learned at a young age since her brothers had the nasty habit of snatching away her books and hiding them until she broke into tears.
It was an ironclad contract, but not very different than the ones she’d read from the private sector. She signed without hesitation and handed over a copy for Bobby to file away.
“Do you want your attorney to take a look?”
“That’d be great. Could you e-mail it to … you know who it is, right?”
Bobby smiled and said, “We found that out in a very legal way. Remember the first time we tried to hire you? Our application requested contact information of any legal representatives you have.”
“Oh yeah,” Kathy said. “I completely forgot about that.”
“Considering what you’ve seen afterwards, I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thanks,” Kathy said dryly. “What now?”
“We’ll fly you back to Boston whenever you're ready. Here is a list of local numbers. You may use any of their services to help you move. If you wish.”
Kathy scanned the names and gave a nod when she recognized few of the companies. “Thank you.”
“When do you want to fly back?”
“How about in an hour?”
“Sounds good. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Kathy saw the reluctance with which he stood up. “I won’t change my mind, if you’re worried.”
“Thank you for that,” Bobby gave a sheepish smile. “I was worried. I guess I will be until you move here.”
“Where will I be staying?”
“The innkeeper has a bungalow she rents out. Her number is on the list.”
“Thank you,” Kathy said and followed Bobby as he led her out of the lab. “Can you tell Peter I said good-bye?”
“I will. Please call me if anything comes up.”
“I will,” Kathy said. “Also, just to warn you - something’s bound to come up with my family.”
“I’ll be on high alert.”
“Hey, use that sarcasm when you get a call from my brother, and things will work out just fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Part I * Part III
Fandom: none, original fic
Word Count: ~25k
Genre: gen, horror
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Gratuitous abuse of medical science.
Summary: Dr. Kathy Duncan's foray into the private sector places her in the sights of Eichel Corporation. Feeling uneasy after the interview, she rejects their job offer. Unfortunately for Dr. Duncan Eichel Corporation isn't going to take no for an answer. Because they need her expertise in order to stop a genetic disorder from wiping out hundreds of people in the next decade, they are willing to spend millions ensuring that she changes her mind. And that's just the start of what they are willing to do.
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Peter deftly flipped the half-dollar on his knuckles. It was one of a bevy of tests to see if his reflexes had fully returned after a trans. A dry chuckle told him Bobby was watching him.
“I could never do that,” Bobby said.
Peter turned to look at his older brother. He wondered if Dr. Duncan noticed that in spite of a head of silver-grey hair, the face was smooth and unlined, save for the deep bloodhound grooves bracketing the generous mouth.
It was a face made for smiling, as Peter had witnessed over the years. But, as the progress of his disease marched ever onwards, the smiles and laughter came less and less. Peter wondered if Bobby even noticed the slow death of his humor. And if he did: blame Peter for it.
When he spotted the same concerned look that Bobby always bestowed on him, Peter kicked himself. Bobby had always shown nothing but devotion and care for him. Even when Peter had first transformed into a murderous beast, it was Bobby who swayed their parents from permanently locking him away in an isolated unit - a common procedure in their childhood.
It was also Bobby’s unfailing kindness that changed so many practices amongst their clan. That mixed with their scientific know-how had wrought great benefits for everyone. And now, with Duncan on-board, they could afford even greater hopes.
“So, what do you think of her?” Bobby asked.
“She reminds of me a collie,” Peter answered, then blushed. “That’s not a derogatory thing by the way.”
“And how did that observation come about?”
“Very intelligent, resourceful but cautious. And in spite of what the papers say, she’s got one hell of a temper.”
“You notice that?” Bobby said with a grin. “But why a collie for God’s sake?”
“She’s colorful,” Peter blurted out, his blush now completely overruning his face.
Bobby smiled as he remembered the description Duncan’s oldest brother gave about his sister in a teasing e-mail.
The bastard love child between George Hamilton and Carrot Top.
Bobby thought the description a little cruel but then the practice of casual cruelty did run amok when it came to sibling relationships. Unable to ignore his curiosity after reading that odd description, Bobby went looking for a family picture. He found them easily enough on Facebook as the entire family was networked.
The mother was an Iranian-born who married a visiting engineer at the height of the Shah’s regime. The father was American whose parents came from rougher parts of Dundee, a city reputed with nothing but rough parts. Their sons had taken after their father with their flaming red hair, freckles, and faces that required SPF50 or higher during the warmer months. The only daughter had inherited the mother’s complexion along with the brown eyes. Combine that with the curly red hair and freckles, her looks were quite unusual.
Bobby knew it didn’t bother the doctor a whit, but he wondered if it was because she was teased so much as a child or it never mattered to her to begin with.
“Do you think she’ll take the job?” Peter asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Bobby answered. “She…” His cell rang and he didn’t finish the sentence. The call was brief but managed to completely ruin Bobby’s good mood.
“What is it?” Peter asked, dreading the answer.
“She stumbled over Darren’s place.”
Peter moaned. “Jonathan’s in trans tonight. Shit!”
“Needless to say she’s shaken.”
“Did she see anything?”
“No, Hollis managed to stop her from coming close to the house,” Bobby said. “But now she’s seen it up close, maybe too close. You have to remember she has spent her entire career in a lab.”
Peter gave a worried glance towards his brother. “Do you think she’ll change her mind?”
“I think it might have been changed for her,” Bobby concluded.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Peter offered. “Maybe help the pendulum swing our way again?”
“Can you do that?”
Peter nodded. “I’m good now.” He crinkled his nose and added, “Not to mention my scent won’t be so bothersome anymore.”
“We should wait until morning. We don’t want to seem too eager and scare her away.”
Peter gave a small yawn and a tired smile before retiring. Bobby stayed behind and studied the latest results from the lab. He’d do this until eleven when he’d swim his usual laps before going to bed.
It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that a thought occurred to him. If Peter did convince Duncan to take the job, would it be necessary to tell her about her predecessors? Even though he wanted to avoid that topic, she would sooner or later learn of Singh and Jacobs.
That headache’s for tomorrow, Bobby thought. With that he closed his eyes and fell into uneasy sleep, not knowing the same idea was plaguing his brother into his bed.
Though Kathy was repeatedly told she would be able to leave any time she wanted, she stayed on the island. Kathy wanted to study the people who suffered from a disease that had mythical proportions.
However, if there were anything more to be discovered, she didn’t find it. And the morning of the fourth day Kathy decided to make plans to leave in the afternoon. The day began lovely enough that she took another stroll towards the cemetery. Since she never planned to return, Kathy wanted to collect as much data as possible before she left.
She was studying the newest headstones located on the left corner of the cemetery when she heard a sermon echoing from a large hill that seemed to act as a natural fence for the burial ground. Kathy took a peek and found herself studying a funeral. Good manners dictated that she had no right to witness what was a private mourning but when she realized whom the funeral was dedicated to, Kathy couldn’t force herself to move.
She stood still, unable to process what she was witnessing. But the large portrait of the deceased was not a symptom of her losing her mind. It was the child she’d met only three days before. The girl was younger in the photo, but the luminous, grave eyes were the same. However, in the picture she was smiling widely and her gaze was off to her left, probably towards the person who managed to wrangle the laugh from her.
Kathy’s gaze veered towards the grieving family with their friends surrounding them like bodyguards. And amongst them was a familiar face: Bobby.
The group sat down on the plastic chairs and without preamble, the man at the head of the casket began speaking.
“We are here today to witness the loss of another member in our family: Naomi Yishino. She was not even thirteen when she decided that this life was too painful for someone as delicate as she. And now here we are, all are asking the same question, aren’t we? Why did this happen?
“The answer is simple: we, her elders, failed her.
“We saw a child but we didn’t know how to shield her. We saw a fellow Wanderer but we didn’t know how to point her way home. And now, here we stand, our failure so plain to see.
“Let us never forget today, so that when we meet another Wanderer, we will have the courage, the will, and the patience to help her on her way … towards home.”
There were no religious overtones at all as few people stood up to recount stories of the dead child, including a little girl who bore great resemblance to Naomi Yishino.
Her sister, Kathy concluded. Oh sweet Jesus, that’s her baby sister.
Kathy stood immobile, half shielded by a wind-carved madrona, and watched the ceremony to its conclusion. The family around the sister immediately made a tight circle around her and marched down the hill, unwilling or unable to respond to the outpouring of sympathies directed at them.
“You should leave now,” a soft voice spoke from behind Kathy’s right shoulder.
She turned to Bobby. “What happened? Did she commit suicide?”
“Yes, she did. She cut her wrists.”
“Why? Did she transform and hurt someone?”
“Hardly,” he answered. “She witnessed her father murdering her mother while he was in his other form. The man came to us after that and left his daughters in our care. He hasn’t been seen since.”
“He dumped them?” Kathy didn’t know whether to be outraged by the children’s abandonment after such an ordeal or relieved that the father had the common sense to entrust his daughters to safer care.
Bobby looked at the fresh grave and the caretakers now filling the site with dirt. “We think he might have committed suicide.”
“What’s going to happen to the second child?”
“Jenna will stay with the family she’d been placed with,” Bobby explained. “Jackson and Delilah are the only ones on the island fluent in Japanese besides myself.”
“How many?” Kathy asked.
Bobby did not answer. He walked away, his face firmly planted downwards as if he was navigating a treacherous icy walkway instead of a gently sloping gravel path.
I don’t want to deal with this, Kathy thought as she continued to stare at the pitifully small grave. I can’t deal with this.
And yet, she remained in her spot, unmoving like the tree next to her until the sun began sinking. Not feeling the damp salty air seep through her fleece jacket, Kathy quietly trudged back to the inn. The first thing she did was hastily shove her few belongings into her backpack. The next was to use her iPhone to pull up the ferry schedule. There was one departing from the harbor to Orca Island in an hour.
Kathy was getting off the bed and heading towards the door when her knees finally gave in. Panicking, she seriously considered crawling but stopped when she realized how foolish the idea was.
Her first instinct was to curse everyone who got her into this situation, which to be honest included herself. But, once again, her common sense forbade her from using all her emotional steam on something so ineffectual. And might even cause her actual harm, if only have the innkeeper call the local law enforcement personnel and lock her up for bizarre behavior.
But Kathy knew that wouldn’t happen. The Eichel brothers would intervene as they probably had someone watching her and report anything that might interest them.
She sat on the plush carpet, absently combing through the beige fabric as her mind raced to consider all her options even though the conclusion was already made for her.
I have to take the job, Kathy thought. There’s no way I could go back to my life in Boston when I know this is happening to them day after day, week after week for only God knows how long. Years? Centuries? Maybe even more?
With a weary sigh Kathy stood up in order to get her cell. She dialed Bobby’s number. “Can I meet with you tomorrow morning?”
“Of course, come by the house when you’re ready,” Bobby said.
“Thanks.” Kathy wanted to ask few more questions but decided not to. She was so tired and emotionally battered, the only thing she could do was go to bed.
Bobby sat back in his armchair and sighed in relief. He knew he’d played it hard when he spotted Duncan at Naomi’s funeral but he was desperate. And unless she was made out of concrete, Bobby knew she would reconsider her answer.
He smiled: Peter honestly believed she already did after having a heartfelt meeting with him.
He knew better.
Kathy Duncan wasn’t very imaginative. She had built a fortress with her work and personal life, as her parents had wished. And a life in his world would not only terrify her, but also destroy the few tightly-held beliefs she had in ways unimaginable to her.
We will have to be careful with her, Bobby concluded. We can’t overload her too quickly. She could become unpredictable then.
He heard snuffling noises from the baby monitor and smiled. Peter had made the same sounds since he was a child. Bobby amped the receiver's volume before going to bed. He had been doing this ever since their father died.
Bobby had thought his father’s practice of listening in while Peter was sleeping had become invasive when his brother turned fourteen. Then his brother transformed one night because of a nightmare. Peter had destroyed the entire second floor and had nearly gotten into the panic room where his family had taken shelter before transforming back.
The older brother had learned his lesson.
“So, what … how … what is going on, exactly?” Kathy asked after eating only a croissant she heisted from a buffet that looked like it could easily feed the Patriots and all their fans. All of which confused her as Peter was absent from the breakfast table
“It’s male-only trait as far as we know, though female inheritors can be carriers,” Bobby continued. “We’ve been able to trace it back to Eastern Europe and that’s where the trail ends.”
“Does it manifest itself in any way in the daughters?”
“Their health is nearly perfect.”
“Perfect?” Kathy echoed. “How?”
“No cold, no flu, no headaches. They don’t suffer from diabetes. They don’t have weight problems or heart problems. They don’t suffer from any liver problems.
“They don’t even have to bother going in for annual checkups because they don’t get sick. The same goes for the male heirs, also.”
Kathy blinked stupidly, unable to say anything.
Bobby took a look at her and noted the shock clearly scrawled across her face. “There is a problem, and you can laugh at it if you want. Though I’d prefer you to refrain from doing so. We have an … imperative, you might say. We need to procreate.”
Kathy’s curiosity overrode her shock. “What?”
“We have to have children. Or at least try.”
“I still don’t understand,” Kathy said.
“The fabled biological clock?” Bobby said with sarcastic humor. “It’s more like a ticking time bomb for us. We’ve tried hormone therapy and steroids, but the drive is unconquerable for those who are afflicted.”
"But you’re not, are you?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, when I was born, my parents were terrified. But after I passed my thirteenth birthday, they realized for reasons not quite clear back then, that I was spared.
“Of course, now we know definitively that there are sons who can be carriers only.”
“Do the symptoms manifest in other ways?”
Bobby smirked a little. “Our immune system isn’t as well developed as those who are fully affected, but we are pretty healthy. And, yes, the drive to have children is overwhelming also.”
“You have a family, then?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, I decided not to take the risk, and my time is completely consumed by my work.”
Kathy thought for a moment and then asked, “How?”
“You must have heard of chemical castration.”
Kathy recoiled at the confession. Then felt ashamed by her reaction. He’d taken the medication willingly, so he could take care of Peter and never lose focus on whatever their goal was.
Bobby took a drink of his tea and continued. “I’ve been on and off the cocktail for years. It’s been scheduled in a cycle in order to minimize the damage.”
Kathy cleared her throat and said, “I’m guessing that doesn’t help control the transformation?”
He shook his head. “None. Especially when the afflicted are children. That’s the worst time for all concerned. The child can trans for many reasons. Some of them are impossible to predict.”
“So the howling at the full moon?”
Bobby’s quirked lips turned into a full smile. “Complete misdirection. Perhaps in the distant past the lunar cycle may have played a part, but nowadays it’s physical and emotional stress that are the triggers.”
Kathy mulled that over. “No wonder the teenage years are the most difficult.”
“You can just imagine, on top of what is already a stressful time, the fear of having this disease; it’s almost self-fulfilling in a way.”
“How is that managed?”
“In my father’s time, mostly through various opiates and cocktails of anti-anxiety medication. But we’ve discovered their efficacy wears down over time. So, when families have someone who is a Wanderer, they build a panic room next to the child’s bedroom.
“That way, the kid has a safe haven in which to trans and not injure himself.”
“What about the family?”
“By the time they have children, they are well versed in dealing with escape routes. There’s a reason why most of us have heavy-duty SUVs and modified sedans. Also, all of us have a second panic room in case the child escapes their confinement somehow.
“That we learned the hard way.”
“Does this get easier as the person grows older?”
“Mercifully, yes,” Bobby said with a tired sigh. “But it takes time and a lot of conditioning. Most of them don’t have any kind of self-awareness in their trans state until they’re well into their twenties. And that’s debatable if the trans was triggered by an emotional upheaval.”
“But the older they get, the longer it takes to trans?”
“Yes, the older you become, the longer it takes.”
Kathy watched Bobby take a deep breath. She waited with anticipation, wondering what other bombs he was going to drop.
“There’s another, equally pressing concern. And it doesn’t have to do with the violent nature of the transformation.
“It’s the aging process.”
“How is that affected?” Kathy was already dreading the answer even as the question fell from her lips.
“The immune system that is so helpful in our youth turns against us when we hit forties or early fifties. For those who are directly afflicted, they’ll never see the other side of sixty. For others like myself - female and male - we might reach sixty-five, sixty-six? None of us has ever seen the other side of seventy.”
“Guillain-Barre? MS? Lupus?” Kathy asked. “Is it treatable in any way?”
“Try all of the above and then some,” Bobby answered. “Once the clock starts winding down, the degeneration happens quickly. Within two or three months, the patient is dead.
“My father believed and I do now that this is why there is such a drive to have progeny. Since we don’t live for long, this … thing almost has an overriding directive to continue, hence our need to have children.”
“Do you know what this is? At all?”
“Yes we do. It's the anterior lobe of the pituitary gland we call T-C. It starts production hormone A-1 as soon as the baby is born. There are no visible differences until the child reaches the age between eight and ten. Then, Hormone A-2 starts being produced. Soon thereafter changes are visible.”
“But you can’t treat them because…”
“We tried, but every damn result is the same. After a procedure has been performed, the gland begins production as if nothing has happened. It just kick-starts and in some cases go into overdrive as if to make up for lost time. And when that happens, the patient falls into dementia. Some even transed and stayed in that state, unable to return to their human form.”
“So … it’s foolproof?”
“Seems like it,” Bobby agreed. “We’ve tried surgically removing T-C, but the cells regenerate and begin production again.”
“What about the hormones?”
“We’ve tried suppressants, treatments to counter effect the hormones. They’ve all failed. If the A-1 and A-2 hormones are not detected in the body, again, the gland goes into an overdrive, and we’ve got the same damn problems.”
“For those who are stuck in that state - what happens to them?”
“Nobody can survive in the transed state for long. Their lungs can’t take in enough oxygen, their hearts can’t beat fast enough or long enough: they die of total organ failure within days. I have never read of anyone surviving over four days in that state.”
“What happens if they attack anyone else? Is this disease transferable that way?”
“No, that’s another myth,” Bobby said. “The only people who can survive a werewolf attack is already a werewolf. Hence why people believed that werewolf’s bite was a curse. The truth is the attacks are usually so violent, that unless the victim already has the immune system of one, they cannot possibly survive.
“And, there’s the ugly fact that we are very territorial in that state. If there’s another werewolf within a defined area of ‘home’ then the original Wanderer will feel threatened and carry out an attack if only to protect their territory.”
“How can you live together like this?”
“Simple, we take drugs and our panic rooms are pretty damn near impossible to break.”
“I was told by a kid…”
“I heard about that,” Bobby interrupted softly but implacably. “The person afflicted was a child. And they are extremely responsive to any stranger within striking distance.”
“How do you deal with all this?”
“I learned to cope,” was the succinct reply.
“If I’m to believe all that you’ve told me,” Kathy asked, “then how old are you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Fifty? Fifty-five maybe?”
The smile came back but it was bitter. “I am forty-one, actually. The grey hair is due to the aging process kicking in.”
“How long do you have?”
“A year, maybe eighteen months? This is another reason why I went to such extremes with you. My time on this earth can be measured in days now.
‘The safety of my brother is my first concern, and I will see him safe if it’s the last thing I do.”
“It might just be the last thing you do,” Kathy said.
Bobby looked at her with open appreciation. “You’re right, but it won’t do anything to change my mind.”
“Does Peter know?”
“He suspects,” Bobby said. “But he’s not quite aware of the side effects on people who are just carriers.”
“When are you going to tell him?”
“If you’re going to help - maybe never?”
“That’s a low blow.”
Bobby grinned. “Like I said, extreme measures.”
“I’m guessing there’s a lab with my name on it somewhere?”
“It even has your favorite coffee maker: Espressione.”
“Do I even want to know how you found that out?”
“I don’t know - do you?”
Kathy shook her head. “No. I grew up with too many brothers to be that stupid.”
Bobby burst out in laughter. It sounded even sweeter because it was so unexpected. “Thank you. I know you’re not entirely comfortable with all this, but I do appreciate your understanding, not to mention your honesty.”
A deep sigh exploded as Kathy finally relaxed. “You have no idea how glad I am you have a sense of humor. My previous experiences taught me otherwise.”
“Having a sense of humor is a requirement in the job you’re about to take.”
“So, what happens now?”
“You rest first. This is a lot to digest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Kathy was annoyed that he’d read her so easily and grateful that he did because she was exhausted.
When she’d returned to her room at the inn, there was a glass of what she thought initially was tea. It turned out to be a hot toddy.
She couldn’t stop grinning even as she tossed it back. Have to admit, this bribe thing is nice!
Then she collapsed into bed, not even bothering to take a shower or brush her teeth.
Peter took a healthy swig of orange juice right from the jar. He was glad Bobby was still at the lab. He suspected his brother was actually recording down the amount of food he was eating in the hopes of somehow finding the magic bullet that was going to control the disorder.
A familiar scent drifted under his nose. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Is it a disease or disorder?” he asked. “I could never figure it out.”
“It’s both,” Bobby answered.
“The CIA really missed an opportunity with you,” Peter said. “When did you get home?”
“Fifteen minutes ago,” Bobby said. “The Jeep’s been having problems with brakes. I had to use the Lexus.”
“Figures why I didn’t hear you come in the garage.”
Bobby smiled. “I’m getting better at this, aren’t I?”
Peter gave a matching smile when he caught the hint of pride in his brother’s voice. It was always a marvel about what Bobby took pride in, be it flying a kite above the treeline or successfully subduing three home-invasion thugs with a nine iron.
“Do you want some orange juice?” Bobby offered, gently shaking the jar.
Bobby shook his head and patted his stomach. “No, just going to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow if Duncan stays.”
“She’s going to stay,” Peter said confidently.
Bobby made some noises and walked away. Peter looked at his brother fondly. Even though they were more than a decade apart, Peter was already as big as Bobby, and was probably going to be bigger once he hit his mid-twenties.
But Peter knew better than to be fooled by Bobby’s thinness. Years ago Deco pharmacon sent three men to throw Bobby’s condo to find intel on Eichel’s latest immune suppressant. When the men didn’t find anything, they decided to wait for the president of the company.
They jumped Bobby the moment he came through the front door. And that was the last time they had any advantage over their target. Using his briefcase and the golf bag in the hallway, Bobby beat the three men into unconsciousness. He then pulled out their molars with pliers before the security team dragged them off.
After finding out who had hired the men, he had the teeth delivered to their Head of Security, Chief of Finance, and Chief of Operations by the way of their first coffee in the morning.
He was never bothered by that particular company again, or any other for that matter.
Peter never questioned the level of violence Bobby had used. His brother had little to no flair for the dramatics, so if he thought that much bloodshed was necessary, then Peter readily agreed. After all, if it were up to him, the men who meant to torture and maybe even kill his brother would be nothing but strands of meat between his teeth.
Peter wondered when he had accepted such violence into his psyche without second thought.
Bobby’s my brother, Peter thought resolutely. He deserves a family, with five or six kids crawling around his ankles, laughing with him. He deserves a wife who wears her Phi Beta Kappa key on her key ring just because it amuses her husband.
Bobby felt tears burn their trail down the corner of his eyes and onto his cheeks. He deserves to be thirty pounds heavier; a corner office in a nice hospital that has great health insurance coverage for cancer and not reconstructive surgery because his patients have a habit of ripping their caretakers’ faces off with their claws. He deserves a brother who doesn’t become a psychotic homicidal monster whenever life gets too hard for him.
In spite of his maudlin thoughts, Peter wiped all traces of his tears before he went upstairs. Just in case he bumped into Bobby in the hallway.
Jason stood up from the sofa and stretched as he waited for Jackson to come in. He wasn’t sure if the wetwork operator would appear but he had little choice. Avers was on the clock as neither Robert nor Peter knew about this particular meeting.
He had kept them in the dark. Mainly because he was only too aware of what they would say if they found out: Stop.
But Jay knew better. Jackson, or whoever he was, knew too much about them to go about freely. Sooner or later, Jackson would be tempted to use whatever information he had to gain some ground. And Jay couldn’t allow that.
The door opened and a burly man stepped in. Jay was surprised to note how short the assassin was. He expected Jackson to be at least six feet and possess the neck the size of a bull’s.
“Nice to meet you finally,” Jackson said.
“Please come in,” Avers replied warmly. “Sit.”
Jackson warily eyed the sumptuous leather armchair before sitting down on it. Avers didn’t bother to offer anything to drink or polite talk.
“I want to offer you a job,” he said.
The guest seemed taken back. “What kind of job?”
“I want you to work for my firm on a permanent basis,” Jay said. “We need a strong man like you to protect our more … fragile assets. Before you ask, we already have security members for that, but they’re not willing to go far as you to protect their charge.”
Jackson nodded. “I see. And these charges?”
“Scientists who are overworked, overwrought, and have a personal life of a common food mold,” Jay answered.
“And I’d probably scare them from doing something stupid, right?”
“There is that, but these people are way too self-involved for suicide or even attempted suicide,” Jay answered. “Are you interested?”
Jackson stood up. “I’ll consider it.”
“Good, that’s all I wanted to talk about,” Avers said, standing up. “Call me when you’ve made up your mind.”
Jackson gave a terse nod before leaving. Avers began packing his briefcase as Jackson closed the door behind him. But, as soon as he heard the door to the stairwell close, Avers pulled out a small bag he'd hidden earlier and rushed to the door of the temporary office he’d rented under false identity.
After donning two pairs of gloves, he industriously wiped the door handles on both sides of the door with Clorox wipes followed by paper towels, then shoved the whole mess in a small airtight plastic container. The neurotoxin he’d coated the handles with was slow acting, which meant Jackson would have his first seizure on the I-90. And if the ensuing traffic accident didn’t kill him, the poison would.
Avers took the stairs to the basement in order to exit out the service entrance. Instead of driving, he took the T, which made it easy for him to see if he was being followed. He got off at Government Center and walked over to Faneuil Hall, just in case he did have a tail. He spent the next two hours carousing with tourists while eating bad food.
By the time Avers reached Wellesley Inn, the eleven o’clock news was on. He caught the brief story about the traffic accident on the Mass Turnpike; a rental suddenly swerved and collided onto the concrete divider on the ramp to Logan Airport.
The driver was pronounced dead on the scene, though his identity hadn’t been made public, the reporter on scene believed the man to be a visitor to the Boston area.
Avers gave a sigh of relief and got ready for bed.
Finally, this mess is cleaned up.
Avers called the front desk for the usual five am ring and went to sleep.
Kathy woke up and was happy to note she did not feel any nervousness or self-doubt. Now that she’d made up her mind, the path ahead was clear.
The first order of business would be to make arrangements for the move to Washington, though she still had no idea where the lab was.
After a hearty breakfast, Kathy made her way to the mansion. She wasn’t surprised to see the front gate wide open, as if Bobby was waiting for her to return.
Confident bastard, she thought with a smile. Wish I had his bravado.
She strolled into the front garden and admired the flowers, along with the brand new Lexus parked alongside the main entrance. Fighting down the urge to peek inside the cockpit to check out the latest gadgets, Kathy instead knocked on the front door.
Peter opened it, chomping on the largest glazed donut she’d ever seen. He gave a toothy grin and said, “Come in. Want some breakfast?”
“Any left?” she asked.
“Bobby always makes sure there’s enough food in the house.”
Kathy was about to make a wisecrack about how cranky Peter could get without his sugar fix, but then kept her peace. For all she knew, it might be murderously true.
Peter led her to the sunroom where a sumptuous breakfast spread took the entire sideboard.
“Good morning,” Bobby said as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
“You knew I’d take the job, didn’t you?”
Bobby gave a small shrug. “I thought the challenge would be too tempting.”
“So, if I sign the goddamn contract,” Kathy took a sip of the coffee placed in front of her by Peter, “will I get the whole pie, then?”
“I don’t see why not,” Bobby said. “The last thing we need is our people working in the dark.”
“Where do I sign?”
Jay smiled when he got Bobby’s call. “That is excellent. So, she’s on board?”
“Yes she is. I’m going to bring her to the lab now.”
“How is she doing?”
“Now that she’s more or less over her initial trauma, her curiosity has gotten the better of her.”
“How do you think she’ll do?”
“She’ll adjust pretty quickly. I’ll know more after the tour.”
“Go easy on her, Bobby. She’s been through quite an ordeal.”
“Too late for that, Jay.”
Jason Avers felt his years even as he smiled at Bobby’s quip. He wondered how much longer he could go working for them before he was forced to resign. He knew wasn’t going to get fired or become a victim of one of Bobby's quiet removals.
No, Jay had plans.
He was going to spend what few years he had some sunny place, filled with scantily-clad women. And fruity drinks.
The only time he was ever going to return to Washington was for his funeral. Or the day the Eichel brothers found the cure.
Not going to happen in my lifetime, Jay thought sourly. Especially since my lifetime could be measured in months now.
“Can I please see the lab?” Kathy asked.
“Follow me,” Bobby answered. He led her out of the mansion and into the driveway where a Jeep was stowed. “We’re going to drive there.”
“The lab is on the island?”
“There are two: One in Seattle and one here,” Bobby explained as he helped Kathy strap herself into her seat with the five-point harness system. “The one in Seattle generates the work we do for other companies. The one here is completely focused on the Atreus Disorder.”
“That’s its name?”
Bobby nodded. “It was coined by my grandfather who was also afflicted like Peter. He was a doctor in his town.”
“Were there others like him?”
Bobby nodded. “There were quite a few, nearly thirty-five percent of the town was either a carrier or a sufferer.”
“The rest?”
“Had no idea,” Bobby said. “They were mostly patients at my grandfather’s sanitarium. He was a renowned specialist in pulmonary disorders and had opened a spa of sorts in the thirties.”
“Oh,” Kathy said. “By the way, where are we going?”
Bobby pointed to a dirt road to the right of the path they were on. “There.”
It didn’t take long for Kathy to understand why a Jeep was necessary. The road was completely unpaved and there were deep ruts of dried mud that would’ve killed most suspension systems. Then, to confirm her thoughts, the Jeep bounced violently, almost knocking Kathy right into the dashboard.
“Ever thought about putting in a road here?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“No,” Bobby answered. “We don’t want anyone to know about the lab. Especially the government.”
“They have no idea? Seriously?” Kathy was surprised. From her experience the federal government and the military seemed to have their fingers in every pie available.
“They cannot,” Bobby said. “Our immune system is so highly specialized that the temptation to use us for their military programs would be too much.
“They’ll make up some acceptable excuse to treat us like monkeys in a cage, and that particular slippery slope is very slippery if history is anything to go by.”
Kathy blanched. She knew he wasn’t only talking about the Nazis, but also what the U.S. government had done to its own people: its own soldiers.
“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” Bobby said. “But we both know I’m telling the truth. Just an unpopular one.”
After a moment of heavy silence punctuated by the Jeep bouncing on the dirt road, Kathy said, “So, the lab?”
Bobby pulled into what looked like a glen devastated by a fire. He parked next to the biggest tree and got out. Kathy wordlessly followed.
Bobby took a path that was completely overgrown with what Kathy nervously identified as poison ivy. Without warning he made a sharp left and disappeared from view.
“Hey!” Kathy cried out softly and trotted after him but came to an abrupt stop when she saw the entrance to the lab. It was so perfectly camouflaged that unless a person was standing no closer than five feet, it was invisible to the naked eye.
Bobby peeked out of the open door and said, “Come in.”
Feeling slightly giddy, Kathy walked in. “Will Dr. Xavier be greeting us?”
“Who’s Dr. Xavier?”
“Nobody special. Lead the way.”
As Bobby led her without hesitation through a host of corridors, Kathy noticed the various high-tech monitoring equipments mounted on the walls. And, in spite of the discomfort at the surveillance equipment being so liberally used, Kathy admired the money and the technology that went into security.
“We’re here,” Bobby said as he slid a card key into a slot in a wall. “Please, come in.”
She stepped into a clean room with barely any furniture. There was a desk, two chairs, and a phone.
“Um,” Kathy said. “I’m not going to be interrogated, right?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, this room is for cleaning.”
“Am I going to have to take off my clothes?”
Bobby nodded, looking completely at ease with the idea. “There will be a female assistant with a box. You’ll have to put all your personal belongings into it.
"Everything will be returned to you when you’re done.”
“Is this normal procedure?”
“Yes, for the first week of work,” Bobby answered. “Then a locker will be assigned to you.”
“Okay,” Kathy took a deep breath. “This is a lot like working for the Pentagon.”
“That’s where we got the procedure from.”
“You know that’s not a good thing, right?”
Bobby gave a small shrug and left the room. Soon thereafter, a petite brunette entered. Her business-like demeanor was soothing as Kathy stripped naked. In return she gave scrubs along with disposable underclothing, for which Kathy was extremely grateful.
The woman waited while Kathy filled the box with her belongings. After Kathy sealed the box, the assistant gave a small smile, briskly handed over a plastic ID badge, and left with the container.
Kathy thumbed the ID tag and wondered what kind of access she was going to be given.
Keys to the Kingdom, maybe? she thought with amusement.
Bobby reappeared and politely led her down further into the corridor where both key cards were necessary to gain access. As soon as Kathy entered she understood why.
The lab’s technology was so advanced that most of the equipment were foreign to her. She examined the vast layout before noticing two technicians working around their stations.
“This is amazing,” Kathy whispered. “I can’t even begin to imagine the cost that went into this.”
“The heat bloom generated by our lab is something that we have to work on constantly,” Bobby explained. “And the latest technology usually drains the least amount of energy so it helps to be up-to-date with the newest and the greatest.
“And before you ask; we can definitely afford to do so.”
“So, what is all this about?”
“For that, you have to go to another room.”
She followed him to an adjacent lab that was half the size of the previous one, but it was also equipped with technology she could barely identify, let alone handle.
“You lost me,” Kathy confessed.
Bobby turned on a workstation and swirled the monitor so she could read it. Kathy skimmed over the material presented to her.
“No wonder … I see now,” Kathy said as she leaned closer to reread the information availed to her.
Bobby crossed his arms and casually leaned against a wall: a posture that was a little too relaxed for a man like him. “We need your expertise to create a virus, a carrier to infect the gland, disabling it.
“We’ve given up on the hope of killing it because in all likelihood, the attempt would also kill the host. But we could try to infect the gland to the point where it could be prevented from forcing the person to fully transform. Maybe even retain their human factor during the trans.”
“That way the immune system could be preserved,” Kathy said. “But the aging process?”
“That’s trickier, but for right now we’re more concerned with those more severely afflicted.”
“But you’re one of them!”
“So is my brother,” Bobby shot back. “And to put it bluntly, controlling his trans is more important considering the level of violence the afflicted are capable of.”
Kathy gave a reluctant nod of agreement and sat down on an ergonomic chair that probably cost more than her entire bedroom set. “Can we talk more about the Atreus Disorder now?”
“We named it after a mythological figure,” Bobby said.
“I know of it,” Kathy interrupted. “My second brother studied Greek mythology during college.”
“Like I said yesterday, it is a genetic disorder. Male inheritors are the only ones to show any symptoms that end in trans.”
“And the women?”
“Superior health, good vision, something of a hard sex drive, or at least the desire to procreate. Unfortunately the aging process is also accelerated.”
“The male inheritors? What about them?”
“The symptoms show up in the preteens. Usually insomnia, and hyperpigmentation that occurs only on the face. That followed by increasing inability to deal with stress which could end in mild seizures.”
“They blank out?”
Bobby nodded. “That and some light trembling on the outer limbs. Surprisingly there are no temper tantrums.”
“Because they’re scared,” Kathy whispered. “They know what the symptoms mean so they’re doing all they can to not let it happen to them.”
“It’s pretty fucking tragic, actually. They become these … these robots who get perfect grades, perfect attendance records. The parents are driving themselves insane because they know what’s coming around the corner. But the kids aren’t willing to admit to the fact, and they usually don’t until they actually trans.
“Then … you can imagine what happens after that.”
“What do you want the virus to do?”
“To have the person retain their human consciousness even during the trans.”
“How is that even possible?”
“We are trying to isolate the compound in the gland that triggers hyper-violent behavior. The older members are not as violent, and some have even managed to control their responses to the point that they do not need to be contained.
“Our lab has discovered that the secretions change as the afflicted grow older. We are isolating the compounds to see which ones need to be amplified or removed.”
“And after that, it’s my show?”
“Yes, definitely,” Bobby looked beseechingly at her. “You realize what kind of dedication will be required to create a viral carrier?”
“Considering the limited success rate so far, I’m guessing a lot.”
“That’s actually not true,” Bobby countered. “The military had made some leeway. Unfortunately they were forced to reevaluate their research when the test animals … failed to survive.”
“I don’t want to know anymore,” Kathy said hurriedly. She was well aware that when it came to the Pentagon, the less you know, the better.
“I wasn’t planning to tell you any more,” Bobby said grimly. “I am well aware of the reluctance the academic world has when it comes to that particular sector.”
“How do we do this?”
“First we find you temporary housing here. Then a permanent one if you wish. The choice is up to you.”
Kathy felt better as soon as she heard his offer. “By the way, is there a salon on the island?”
The question seemed have taken Bobby by surprise. “Why?”
She pointed at the frazzled nest that was her hair. “If I have to stay here for any length of time I need to either shave my head or get this under control.”
Bobby stared at the impromptu copper fro and smiled. “Melissa Benik has a place. It’s the only one in Wade but she’s good. She could probably help you get a handle on your little cosmetic problem.”
“Little?” Kathy scoffed. “That’s like saying Godzilla has thyroid trouble.”
Bobby broke out into full laughter. Kathy basked in his humor and allowed herself to finally see the person behind the chair. She wasn’t fooling herself: Robert Eichel was dangerous man made even more dangerous because of his love and loyalty to family and friends.
What she now wondered was if they were just as loyal to him as he was to them.
“Please follow me. I’ll start your registration process so you could have the access you need.”
“Sounds good.”
They were walking down the hall when Bobby blurted out, “Aren’t you at all curious about what is in store for you?”
She shook her head. “No, my parents taught me to never borrow trouble.” She pronounced the words ‘borrow trouble’ with the definite burr. “And I’m not so ignorant that I don’t realize what is required of me at my new job. So, now, my focus is on what I have to do to come here and not rouse any suspicion.”
“Your brothers?”
“Yeah, they are pretty protective of me,” Kathy explained, smiling. “And they’re going to wonder what convinced me make such a huge transition.”
“They’ll visit?”
“Count on it.”
“They’ll have to be monitored,” Bobby said, “for their own sake.”
“Like I did when I first arrived?”
“Nowhere near that severity. We had to ensure you were safe at all cost. We were also under the burden to convince you to accept the position.
“Believe me when I say we were shooting with all barrels. I still can’t believe you accepted the job.”
“Really?”
“The truth is we were more desperate for you to accept than you were to leave.”
“So you must be close to isolating the compounds then.”
Bobby nodded. “Very.” He pointed at an unmarked door and said, “Here we are.”
This room was decorated like a sumptuous office for a Princeton Dean; all the available wall space was lined with walnut bookshelves and near the center of the room was a desk the size of a twin bed. Bobby quickly got to work on his computer. Kathy noted that it had no brand identification and suspected it was made in-house to minimize outside tampering.
The printer began spitting up reams of paper, which Bobby dutifully handed over to Kathy. She read it thoroughly even though at incredibly fast speed. It was a trick she learned at a young age since her brothers had the nasty habit of snatching away her books and hiding them until she broke into tears.
It was an ironclad contract, but not very different than the ones she’d read from the private sector. She signed without hesitation and handed over a copy for Bobby to file away.
“Do you want your attorney to take a look?”
“That’d be great. Could you e-mail it to … you know who it is, right?”
Bobby smiled and said, “We found that out in a very legal way. Remember the first time we tried to hire you? Our application requested contact information of any legal representatives you have.”
“Oh yeah,” Kathy said. “I completely forgot about that.”
“Considering what you’ve seen afterwards, I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thanks,” Kathy said dryly. “What now?”
“We’ll fly you back to Boston whenever you're ready. Here is a list of local numbers. You may use any of their services to help you move. If you wish.”
Kathy scanned the names and gave a nod when she recognized few of the companies. “Thank you.”
“When do you want to fly back?”
“How about in an hour?”
“Sounds good. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Kathy saw the reluctance with which he stood up. “I won’t change my mind, if you’re worried.”
“Thank you for that,” Bobby gave a sheepish smile. “I was worried. I guess I will be until you move here.”
“Where will I be staying?”
“The innkeeper has a bungalow she rents out. Her number is on the list.”
“Thank you,” Kathy said and followed Bobby as he led her out of the lab. “Can you tell Peter I said good-bye?”
“I will. Please call me if anything comes up.”
“I will,” Kathy said. “Also, just to warn you - something’s bound to come up with my family.”
“I’ll be on high alert.”
“Hey, use that sarcasm when you get a call from my brother, and things will work out just fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Part I * Part III