Legacy of a Mad Scientist (51 page)

Ashley took in the view.

In the distance, the windows of the homes reflected
the brilliant sunlight.

She checked her waistband. The agent's gun was gone.
Somewhere during the ride she must have lost it. She hadn't felt it
fall away, but she didn't have it anymore.

Staring out across the canyon, she remembered the
night of the fire, just before she'd come into possession of the
prototype. One of the homes across the canyon had been engulfed in
flame. She looked for it and picked it out. It had been fully
renovated, of course, but she was sure, it was the one on the
crest.

Ash had gone into Geoff's room that night. She'd
heard her father get sick in the nearby bathroom. Somehow that
house was connected. Ashley stared at it. The all-glass wall and
cascading balconies stared back at her.

Suddenly she understood, while there were no obvious
cameras in her house, there might be other kinds of sensors, but
the
cameras
were all across the canyon, behind those glass
walls. That was where she'd find the security footage she needed,
she was sure of it. Maybe that terminal hadn’t been scrubbed.

Not forgetting the need to be careful, Ashley left
the house the same way she'd come in, through the back and into the
forest.

“Take us up above the halo,” Von Kalt ordered.

“Yes, Sir.” The pilot merged into the afternoon cable
traffic. “Sir, the Director said we should…”

Von Kalt stared into the pilot’s eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” the pilot said, reconsidering his
question.

The traffic above the central hub of the city was
sparse, they could see in all directions. Von Kalt pulled up the
teams’ vehicle and helmet cameras. The Fox residence was quiet.

Von Kalt triggered his radio. “Status checks with a
pause for course correction.” He pulled the Metachron device from
his pocket.

“Foxtrot: We’ve got nothing at the residence.”

“We just reported an access at the residence!” Von
Kalt interrupted. “Logs say it was the daughter. You missed her, or
you’ve given yourselves away. Remove to a circular patrol, five
miles out. Do not screw this up!”

“Copy, Foxtrot Out.”

“Golf: holding position at the school.”

“Very Good, Continue.”

“Hotel: We’re on the labs, all quiet here. “

Von Kalt’s phone rang, it was Stanwood. “Hold,” he
said over the radio to his soldiers and accepted the incoming call.
“Yes, Director.”

Stanwood appeared to be riding in a transport of his
own

“I heard you had a run in with our little superstar?”
Stanwood asked.

“Yes, sir. She killed three agents at a shopping
mall.”

“And then what, she escaped?” Stanwood asked.

“She jumped, sir.”

Stanwood laughed.

“I already forwarded you the footage.”

Stanwood continued laughing. “Keep me informed.” He
disconnected the call.

“Of course, I’ll keep you informed.” Von Kalt hung up
and tossed the new phone out the window.

With the Metachron in hand, he dove into the digital
maze that was the Child Services Department.

All he had to do was find the brother, and she would
come to him. He will rewrite the other, the first one, The
Micronix. He will rewrite it, and he will kill her if he has to.
She will give it to him, or she will die.

Sunday, August 2, 2308

Ashley flew down the paths, making her way toward the
far side of the neighborhood. In her excitement, she overshot the
street leading to the security house and drifted too far down into
the canyon. She needed to go uphill.

The kite wasn't helping anymore. The fall had drained
the charge and she wasn't able push it up the steep canyon walls.
It was shredded. While it would be fine for riding downhill, that
wasn't helping now, she needed to cross the canyon and go up the
other side.

Ash knelt and disconnected the kite from the board.
She collapsed the whip and folded up the sail. The kite had saved
her life, but it was worthless to her now. Ash wrapped the sail
around the mast, and tied it with a bit of guideline. She buried
the whole mess in some brush at the base of a big tree.

Returning to her board, in the middle of the path,
Ashley had the intense feeling of being watched. She knelt to tie
her shoe, scanning the trees and paths around her. She saw no one,
and discovered that her shoe did indeed, need to be tied.

When Ashley looked up, she saw Oscar, the Dunkirk's
cat.
What was he doing out here?

Ashley turned to grab her board, and found Bobby
Dunkirk standing just down the path from her. She couldn't
understand how he'd gotten behind her, but there he was, dressed in
all white, and he was staring at her. Oscar had come with him.

Ash noted how much Bobby had changed since she'd last
seen him, weeks ago. His hair was slicked down close to the scalp,
and his clothes were white, clean and pressed. He looked as if he
were ready for picture day at school. Bobby's expression was also
quite formal, no smile, his hands folded behind his back. This was
not the same boy she had known. This Bobby was different. He seemed
more adult than most adults did.

"What happened to Jack?" Bobby asked, without any
sort of greeting.

"He died," Ash answered.

"It was the very next day, wasn't it?" There was
something eerie about Bobby, from his dead-white suit to his
ultra-smooth demeanor. He didn't seem drugged. In fact, he seemed
wide-awake.

Ashley found herself strangely calm. "Yes, it was the
next day."

"Do you miss him?" Bobby asked.

"Very much," she answered.

"I need your help," Bobby said, without a pause.

"My help?"

"You were there that day, in the canyon. That's when
it all started. It touched you, I can tell. You're the only one who
can help me."

"What are you talking about?" Ashley asked. She knew
he was talking about the Micronix, the prototype in her pocket. The
same way she'd known her father was involved when Jack died.

Oscar seemed oblivious to all of it. He sniffed the
grass and weeds, watching everything and nothing.

"He's after me. He killed them and now he's after
me." Bobby looked up the hill toward their street. He sounded a
little more normal, but the words he was saying were
disturbing.

"Who's after you?" Ash asked.

"My dad, he killed them. He’s killed so many."

"Your dad?" Ashley asked, pulling out Ross's phone.
"Do you want me to call the police?"

"No. They can't help me. He kills the police. That
night you were running, he killed lots of them. You're the only one
who can help me."

"I'm just a girl. What am I going to do against your
dad?"

"You have the power. You can stop him. You have to
stop him," Bobby was growing more impatient.

"You sound crazy, you know that?"

"Please just come with me, I'm begging you." Bobby
had gone from weird monotone creep to panicked and terrified little
boy.

Ash almost laughed but caught herself.

"Please, Ash," Bobby was almost in tears now. "He's
going to kill my Mom! Please, you have to help me. He's gonna kill
them." Bobby paused and composed himself. "Please, just talk to
him, Ash. He'll listen to you."

"Why do you think he'll listen to me?"

"I can feel it. You're different. When the man fell
you found something. You found something, and it's in your pocket
right now. That's why he'll listen. You have all the power. You can
cure him."

Bobby seemed more normal now than Ash had seen him so
far. He sounded okay. He was a little keyed up, but he wasn't doing
his weird zombie monotone and he wasn't panicking. "What do you
mean cure him?"

"Like you cured me," Bobby said.

"When?" Ash asked.

"Just right now," Bobby answered.

Ashley looked at him. He certainly seemed less
uptight.

"Everything will be all right, I'm sure of it. If you
just come with me. Evan and Anne and my Mom will all be okay. If
you talk to him, he won't hurt them."

Ash walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder.
She looked Bobby in the eye. "It's going to be okay, I'll help
you."

Bobby seemed to calm down. "I have to show you, then
you'll understand," Bobby said.

As Bobby walked through the forest, Ashley followed
on her board. Her hand found the hard metal rectangle nestled in
her pocket. Somehow she was not reassured by its flat texture under
her fingertips.

Ashley stood with Bobby atop a small rise, past where
the old asphalt street stopped. They stood, looking at the side of
the modern-art fiasco Bobby called home. Ash could see her own
house, just down the road.

Ash looked over at Bobby, he was terrified. She felt
awful for having left him in the forest, that night a few weeks
ago. It would be difficult to say that Bobby was okay. Ash didn't
think he'd ever been normal, but he seemed better at the moment
than when she had run into him ten minutes ago.

Bobby lived in one of the most expensive homes for
miles. The white structure stretched out into the canyon, vast and
angled. The rooms intersected in odd arrangements, walls and
ceilings set together in disturbing ways, resulting in massive
amounts of wasted space. For a prosperous slumlord and art
connoisseur, Ashley felt Mr. Dunkirk had exhibited zero taste in
choosing the family domicile.

Ash hadn't seen Bobby's older brother, Evan, since
the Pierce incident, and she rarely saw Anne outside of family
barbeques. This summer, the Dunkirk’s' hadn't thrown any of their
trademark parties. Mrs. Dunkirk loved to host giant events,
inviting hundreds of people. Shirley worked as a professional
coordinator, served as head of the PTA, and was a member of the
neighborhood homeowners' association. She planned school field
trips, coordinated weekend outings to amusement parks, and
organized multiple-family gatherings at local restaurants.

The Dunkirk’s also had a habit of slipping away for
fancy trips. Upon their return, the neighborhood kids would be
tortured with story after story about how they went tiger hunting
in India, or fishing for giant carp off the Sea of Japan. "And did
you know that, in Japan, they have red dragonflies?" Bobby would go
on and on, repeating the same trivial facts day-after-day.

Ash found their familial enthusiasm nauseating. Her
family never took vacations. Ashley's father rarely took breaks of
any kind from his work. As a result, Ashley hardly knew him, but as
her mother put it, he made the sun shine and the grass grow. "If
your father stopped going to work, the world would fall apart."
Small comfort, even when the she believed it.

Now her world had come crashing down. Her parents no
longer existed. She had lost her brother. This was a new world she
was living in. Here, the rules were different.

Bobby reached into his back pocket, produced a key
card and handed it to Ash.

"Is there a code," Ashley asked.

"No code, just swipe it. Go in through the back."

"Look Bobby, I'll go in there. I'll check on your
family, but I want you to understand, it might already be too late.
If your Mom is in there, if she's hurt, I'm calling the cops, okay.
If anyone is hurt, it's nine-one-one, images attached."

"Please, just check, okay?"

Ashley rode her hoverboard right up to the back door
and leaned it against the house. She used the key Bobby gave her
and entered the kitchen.

Sunday, August 2, 2308

Inside the house, everything was white. From the
walls to the furniture, it was all white, off white or a tranquil
blue-white. Only the floors were not white. The kitchen was a deep
maroon stone. The hardwood floors of the living room and stairwell,
an earthy variety of mountain lion, a pale, sandy grey.

Ashley noticed the trim of the home. Crown moldings,
runner boards, the railing on the stairwell, all bone-bleached,
smooth wood.

By the time Ashley had crossed the kitchen, she'd
picked up an odd coppery smell. She breathed shallowly, looking for
an abandoned sandwich or forgotten plate of food, anything that
might contradict her overwhelming instinct.

A sound came from upstairs, movement.

Oscar meowed behind her. He'd slipped inside and was
now contentedly cleaning a paw.

Another sound came from the second floor, heavy
lifting.

Ash moved down the short hall from the immaculate
kitchen and into the main foyer. She prepared to call out, but her
voice caught in her throat. Bright crimson streaks stained the
impeccably white walls.

Mrs. Dunkirk lay at the bottom of the stairwell, her
head at the foot of the stairs, white-clothed body curving up over
the wide circular staircase. If the fall to her present position
didn't kill her, the deep stab wounds to her torso certainly
did.

Ash heard Oscar drinking water behind her in the
kitchen.

The bright crimson stains stood out sharp and crisp.
Several hand prints and smears marked the railing and stairwell
around Mrs. Dunkirk's body. Ash felt guilty for having disliked her
so much. No one deserved to be butchered on the stairs like
that.

Behind her, Oscar crunched his food into bits before
swallowing.

Ash turned to her right and discovered Evan's
decapitated corpse sprawled across the white downstairs couch.
Neatly placed on the coffee table, his head sat in a pool of blood
and plasma. It looked altogether different from Mrs. Dunkirk on the
stairs.

The blood was not so scattered about. There were no
bloody prints around the corpse. Evan's sprawled body was also
dressed in white from head to foot. Ash suspected perhaps there had
been some family photo scheduled, because this was not Evan's
normal attire.