Legacy of a Mad Scientist (18 page)

"He was successful," Samuel added.

"Yeah, well, Astral wasn't carrying an amplifier, so
we're in uncharted territory. Are the recorders working?”

"We're streaming, record is fine.”

Mr. Reid, Mr. Samuel and the rest of the team watched
the afternoon sunlight fade through Ash and Geoffrey's eyes, as
they searched for Jack.

Back in the glen, Jamie tried to kick the watch from
Doug's hand, but the convulsions had locked his fist tight around
it. He looked as if he were being electrocuted.

That was when the gunshot agents stood up. They wore
bulletproof suits and were strapped with a variety of packs. Their
helmets had sealed oxygen, and behind their visors, a
twelve-channel image translator identified everything in their
surroundings.

The agents checked their suits, no rips no tears. The
bulletproof material had held, and they gave each other thumbs up.
They hadn't even been injured.

The kids watched them in stunned silence.

The tall agent raised his weapon and spoke,
"Sinusoids.”

The other two agents also raised their weapons. They
sprayed a thick green gas across the canyon floor.

The kids fell to the ground, unconscious. Evan and
Doug's convolutions stopped. The agents pried Pierce's watch and
phone from their hands.

"Let's get on with it," the tall one said.

"What hit us?" the female asked. Her flight suit made
gender recognition difficult.

"We had one heavy-atom item during most of the fall,
but I think it might have multiplied. The Doctor said something
about it infecting other devices, like the watch, or that
phone.”

"Or that gun," she said.

"The bullets, that's what hit us. They were charged,
super-dense," the third agent pointed out.

"Where's the original?" the female asked. "I've got
nothing on my scanner.”

"Hold on." The tall agent hit a switch on his
headset, calling his home base. "Yes, Sir. I'm reviewing the
recording now, sir. Time code: 12:37:22:17. Yes sir, frame eighteen
she's gone.”

“Yes, sir, copy that.”

"What about the revolver, sir? Copy. You want us
to... Copy sir. Out." He addressed his colleagues. "He says we have
to find the bullets.”

The subordinate agents looked at each other, their
expressions hidden under the shiny visors.

"It was a revolver right?" the third one asked.

"I see her," the female said, scanning her recorded
footage. "Girl vanishes on eighteen, and at frame twenty-six, the
little boy disappears.”

"And at 23:06 the dog vanishes. One, two, three," the
other male added. "That's the prototype, for sure.”

"Should one of us pursue?”

"No, they're sending additional units. We're RTB,
[Return To Base]
. Jesus, I recognize them, those are Fox's
kids," the tall agent said.

"Guess there was a reason we were on standby," the
third agent added.

"He's never left anything to chance.”

"I've got the kid who shot us, it was a revolver, so
there are no shells to worry about, just the bullets. Use your
thermals, they'll still be hot.”

They scanned the ground.

"I got one," the female said.

"So do I, I've got mine."

"All right, here's the third. Let's sack them, and
get on with the business." The lead agent removed a black pouch of
non-reflective cloth. The watch, phone and three spent slugs were
dropped inside and sealed up.

The trio pulled off their packs, and each assembled
strange rifle-like devices, but instead of a proper barrel they had
a radar dish and a scanner. A clamp swung from the bottom, morbidly
empty.

"Either of you got a Meyer?" the tall agent
asked.

"No, they gave me a Morelet," the female answered.
"It was all they had.”

"Shit man, last week I was a noodle-cooking Mexican
hat," the third agent laughed.

"No way, they still got those things in service?" the
tall one laughed.

"Palm Springs it was all we had for the first year,"
the female said. "Fucking ghastly.”

Her colleagues laughed behind the tinted visors.

"It screws you up, plowing someone with a goddamn
sombrero.”

"What have you got? You get a Meyer?" the third agent
asked their leader.

"I don't think we've got any portable models out
here, which is kind of hard to believe, but what the hell, Morelet
it is. Sucks to be them.”

The tall agent walked over to Doug and rolled him
onto his stomach. With the dish-rifle slung around his neck, the
agent grabbed a handful of Doug's hair and pulled him up into a
snake-like position. He locked the collar around the boy's neck and
centered the scope on the back of his head.

Letting the weapon take the boy's weight, the agent
leaned into the sling, sighted in and charged the dish. To scrub a
person of the Micronix infection, a blast of electricity had to be
delivered to the entire organ at once, rebooting the system.

As the charge built and the audible hum rose in
pitch, the agent held the young man’s skull in his sights. When the
rifle chirped, he fired.

Doug was awake, screaming. The initial blast was
loud, as a mini-bolt of lightning scoured the child's head. An
excruciating experience, but after a few seconds, it was over.
Doug's body emptied its bowels and projectile vomited across the
canyon floor. The agent unhooked the collar and let him slide to
the ground.

"The Meyer coefficient is so much less invasive.”

"What are you going to do?" the third agent shrugged
and blasted Evan.

"You have to admit, three seconds of Morelet, beats
getting screwed with a sombrero. A whole ten seconds? That has to
hurt.”

The female agent blasted Jamie. Soon all the kids in
the canyon had been scrubbed. They bagged up Alexander's shattered
body and secured it to the lead agent’s kite.

The agents hopped onto their kite boards and left the
canyon for higher elevation.

Another two-man recovery team picked up Bobby's
trail. He still carried the revolver in his hand and hadn't gone
too far. They came down on him from behind, firing the sinusoids
while airborne, flooding his path.

The gas enveloped him, and Bobby hit the ground with
a thud. He hadn't seen them coming and couldn't have fired the gun
anyhow. In a fit of curiosity, he'd removed the shells from the
revolver and pocketed them.

Later that evening, Doug, Jamie, Evan and the rest of
the children woke, groggy and confused. They made their soiled way
home, unable to remember much of what happened over the past few
days, let alone that afternoon.

After spending the remainder of the day looking for
Jack, Ashley and Geoff found themselves at the far edge of the
forested canyon. They had reached the northern tip of Beverly
Hills, the flat expanse of the Los Angeles basin stretching away
from them.

Ashley and Geoff stared out at the city, shocked by
the lights, traffic and swell of pedestrians. They were allowed to
play close to home, and while they pushed the envelope in the
forest, the children had never dared to hop the gate and cross into
the forbidden-city.

Some pedestrians noticed their abrupt appearance,
looking at them as if they were some wild forest creatures.
Streaked with dirt and sweat, with bits of leaf in their hair, Ash
pulled Geoff back into the forest.

"But Ash, what if Jack's out there?" Geoff said.

Ash thought of how she'd last seen the dog, he'd been
rabid. She was afraid he'd gotten his leash caught in a thicket and
strangled. Ashley thought she'd been listening, but the noise of
the encroaching city had long since drowned out any sounds made by
a panicked dog.

Ash began to despair they wouldn't find him.

Geoff tugged at her arm, looking back at the city. He
seemed determined that Jack had gone that way. Ashley refused to
entertain him. She'd been overwhelmed by the people and the
traffic. She always wondered why people stayed out of the forest.
She was glad they did.

Ashley looked down the trail. The tall trees formed
natural arches overhead, light spilled down, shadows waving, the
breeze rustling the limbs. Birds chirped and fluttered about with
butterflies.

That was when she saw it. Jack's leash, tangled in a
thicket, but there was no Jack.

"Geoff," Ashley said, pointing to the leash.

"Oh, that's his... JACK! JACK!" he yelled into the
darkening forest.

It was getting late, closer to rush hour, and the
sounds of the city traffic intruded, drowning out his call.

"Ash, we have to find him! He could be lost or
scared!”

Geoff was beginning to melt down. Ashley could see it
coming. "Come on," she said. Together they picked the cord out of
the brush.

"He's out there, Ash." Geoff stared out into the
city.

"No, Geoff. He's a smart dog. He'll go home. I bet
he'll be waiting for us. Come on, we have to go.”

"Ashley, please," he cried.

Unable to argue or insist he come with her, Ashley
put her arms around him. She led him away from the city, back
uphill. Ashley walked at his pace, and Geoff stayed with her. Going
up was so much harder than going down. To his credit, Geoffrey
didn't complain.

Now Ashley understood why people didn't come into
their part of the forest. The steep climb was a natural barrier.
They watched their shadows grow long under the afternoon sun.

At the top of the slope, back on familiar ground,
Geoffrey got a second wind.

"I miss him already," he said.

"I know. Me too," Ashley said.

The pair got home just before dark. They'd wandered
far across the canyon and came up the shallow side of the
neighborhood, surprising their parents when they entered through
the front door.

The faintest light hung in the air, thirty seconds
later it was gone. Dinner was already on the table.

Ashley's mom took the leash without question as to
Jack's whereabouts. Ash and Geoff were told they were filthy and
chased upstairs to wash. No one made any jokes.

Pierce's blood, which had splattered all over Ashley,
had either crusted off or faded in the failing light. It wasn't
noticed until Ashley saw it in the sink; the first handful of water
came back pink against the porcelain.

The second rinse turned red, but the third was almost
clear.

Geoff turned to look outside and saw Jack, scratching
his ear in the back yard. He screamed the dog's name and sprinted
from the bathroom. He bounded down the stairs, yelling the dog's
name all the way.

Jack seemed normal, barked normal and wrestled with
Geoffrey. All normal. Ashley was glad the beagle was back. Once she
got over Geoff's scream, she also realized, smiling, that she had
the bathroom to herself.

Bobby Dunkirk woke near a puddle of vomit he
instinctively recognized to be his own. He sat up, coughed and
shook his head. The revolver was gone. He stumbled to his feet and
reached into his pocket. Bobby pulled out his fist and opened it to
reveal six shiny brass shells. Three were hollow and empty, spent.
The other three were filled with the heavy copper-coated rounds,
artifacts of an ancient time. Only the richest citizens carried
revolvers and old-school bullets.

The bullets held Bobby's gaze, speaking in a wordless
language, alien concepts filling his mind. After several minutes of
silent communication, he pocketed the heavy chunks of metal and
made his way home.

During dinner, Ashley was transfixed by the black
rectangle lying next to her father's plate. She looked at him. He
was eating, happy and calm.

Ash was tempted to pull out the uncomfortable hunk of
black metal in her own pocket, but didn't. She remembered his
order, never to touch it, under any circumstances. Ash looked at
his rectangle, it was different from the one she'd found.

After dinner, alone in her room with the door closed,
Ashley sat at her desk. Staring at the overhead clock, she reached
into her pocket and pulled out the prototype. The clock didn't
stop. She stared at it for a long time, almost a minute. The second
hand never even ticked slowly; it just kept cruising,
perfectly.

Ash looked at the device. It was almost identical to
her father's. Ash noticed that the button placement was just a
little different. This rectangle had some curving to it and beveled
edges. When she looked at it closely, she saw it also had dozens of
seams.

The button was hard; it took some effort to press it
down into the device. She wrapped both hands around it and used one
thumb atop the other to force the button down. She was met with a
loud crack of metal, as a wicked-sharp blade snapped out through
the end.

Ashley looked at the clock. It kept ticking.

She looked up to see her father enter the room. "So,
it found you."

"What?" Ashley asked, rattled.

"I knew sooner or later it would, ” Dr. Fox said. “ I
tried to stop it, but I guess there was nothing I could do. I
thought it would choose Geoff.”

"What are you taking about?" Ashley asked.

Her father blinked.

Ashley held up the knife. "What is this?" she
asked.

"That's a knife," he replied.

"Is it yours?" she asked, holding it flat in her
hand.

"No, this is mine," he said, producing the item she'd
seen him with at dinner. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"What?”

"Where did you get that?”

"It fell out of the sky,” she said, with open
sarcasm.

"Really?”

"There was a man attached to it,” she added.

Fox laughed and brushed the blue stained scar over
his eye.

Ashley took a deep breath.

"It's a tool, a weapon, an eating utensil. It's up to
you, really," he said.