Revolution (26 page)

“Grushenko, in particular, perfected the
transformation chamber. I used parts of other beings to complete my
own body, but—” he swept his hands up and down his blobby form and
let out a sigh—”the process is still not what I hoped. My cellular
makeup continues to decay.”

Harry fought to keep from gagging once more.
This patchwork maniac had kidnapped countless people in order to
keep himself alive. His underlings had also committed murders, and
they couldn’t be allowed to get away with it.

However, there was nothing he could do for
now. He was under guard, Szabo was a fearsome opponent, and they
had Anastasia locked up. “You’re just sick,” he said.

Kulakov uttered a harsh laugh. “You may call
me what you wish. If you are thinking of escaping, then dispel
yourself of that notion. You cannot. You will not leave your
girlfriend behind, and you have nowhere to go. The exits have been
sealed, all except one. That exit is known only to Szabo. You will
never defeat him. Even if you manage to get by him somehow, there
is only one way off this rock, and that is by helicopter. I have
not left this facility for over twenty years. My size prevents
it.”

“How do you get around then?”

“You have seen how I move,” Kulakov replied.
“Over time, I have gotten used to my condition. I get around, after
a fashion.” One of his arms pointed downward. “On the bottom floor,
there is an emergency elevator that leads to the very top of this
rock. In the past, when I was still human, I would signal a
helicopter that would pick me up and deliver me to either Moscow or
Kiev in order to meet my associates. Unfortunately, I have changed
too much and cannot be seen by outsiders. Fortunately, this area is
self-sustaining.”

How it could be self-sustaining was beyond
Harry, unless... those bones he’d seen. With a growing sense of
horror beyond the horror that he was already feeling, his revulsion
for Kulakov grew. This thing had become a cannibal.

“I think I’ll go to my cell now,” he said
slowly. The madness here had become like a coating to his skin and
it was working its way inwards. If he stayed any longer, he’d also
lose his sanity. “I’ve seen enough.”

Kulakov favored him with a cruel smile.
“There is more yet that you shall see. However, I shall give you
time to think it over. When you awaken, that is.”

In a shocking burst of speed, he moved
forward, his arms weaving in a blur. One of them caught Harry on
his jaw and he fell to his knees, blood dripping from his
mouth.

“Do not think of escaping,” Kulakov hissed
out in a voice most menacing. “I have only one task for you and it
is to stabilize the transformation process. My molecular makeup is
breaking down. I wish to retain this form. Do this for me, and I
promise that you and your girlfriend will live. If you defy me, she
shall die in a most horrid manner, and you will watch!”

The arms came down, clubbing him. Harry felt
the smashes and covered up as best he could, but in the end, he
succumbed to darkness.

Minutes or perhaps hours later, Harry awoke
with a splitting headache and the taste of dried blood in his
mouth. He spat it out and tried the door. Never mind that it was
locked—he tried using his augmented strength to kick it open. It
didn’t budge. Whatever material it was made out of, it wasn’t going
to give.

The thought of Anastasia being alive,
though—that kept him going. He’d gone through two other
accomplices, and he’d go through Szabo if necessary. A second
later, his sense of bravado left him. The keepers had locked him in
up and thrown away the key...

“Harry, I am here,” a voice whispered.

He looked around and saw Istvan trot in on
all fours. “We must hurry,” the little pig-man whispered and took a
key from his bodysuit.

Harry noticed that he’d devolved even more
and his hooves clumsily fumbled with the key. Finally, he tossed it
through the bars and Harry used it to unlock the door.

Stepping outside, he sniffed the air. No
smell of Szabo—yet. He’d be coming soon, though. “How’d you get
away?” he asked.

“I told you once before that I am good at
hiding,” Istvan answered. “I cannot fight, but I can hide. After
you attack his men, I ran and hid under house. His men cannot find
me there when I hide under the dirt. I follow you here by scent and
wait outside. When Szabo came to search the ground just now, he
lock door, but he leave key in lock.” A tiny smile crossed his
face. “I will free your girlfriend.”

They ran down the stairs together, heedless
that Kulakov might see them. He wasn’t in either laboratory. Harry
stopped at a worktable before continuing on. “What are you looking
for?” Istvan hissed. “We must go.”

“I need something.” Quickly, Harry searched
for the chemical and... yes, there it was. He grabbed a beaker and
a quick-start flame. Moving quickly, he continued on with Istvan at
his side.

“What is that?” Istvan panted, his eyes
darting left and right. He shook like a leaf in a gale. “You use
that to do what?”

“This is something that will start a very big
fire,” Harry answered and handed over the keys. “Let’s get my
girlfriend.”

At the bottom level, the little man tossed
the keys inside and Anastasia opened her cage. She came out and
knelt down to embrace Istvan. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed
his forehead.

For his part, Istvan blushed furiously and
said nothing. Anastasia arose, quickly embraced Harry and started
up the stairs. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Lips drawn back to expose her teeth, she
replied, “To get a little payback. Martuska is out there. Szabo
told me she always patrols the area. She’ll be waiting.”

“Be careful.”

“Bet on it. See you soon.”

Anastasia tore up the steps while Istvan
began to open up every cell and took out the mattresses, grunting
as he did so. “What are you doing?” Harry asked. “We have to get
out of here now!”

“You say you want fire. I give Szabo and
Kulakov fire.” Istvan clapped his hooves together. “Give me the
chemical. I just sprinkle and light, yes?”

Wordlessly, Harry nodded and handed over the
materials. “Don’t stay too long.”

He spun on his heel and raced to the stairs.
As he did so, he heard his companion yelling “Come here, I am
here!”

A second later, the transgenic horde ran down
the stairs. Harry flattened himself against the wall. The enhanced
ran right by him, hooves, feet and claws scoring the ground. They
went through the door and Harry heard Istvan yell, “Close it!”

“Get out of there!” he yelled.

“Close it!” Istvan repeated.

A puff of smoke came out, and Harry then
heard the sound of the igniter going off. Seconds later, flames
shot over his head and he ducked to avoid getting singed. “Close
it!” he heard Istvan yell once more. Reluctantly, Harry put his
shoulder against the door and shut it, closing his eyes and wishing
it didn’t have to be this way.

Suicide, this was suicide.

No time to think about it now. He charged up
the steps to the laboratory where he saw Szabo waiting, a hungry
look in his eyes. “That little pig escaped me. He will not get far,
and neither will you.”

A brief stab of fear lanced through Harry’s
being, but only for a moment. He could and would not lose, not now
or ever. Gesturing with his hand, he urged the shark-monster
forward. “Come and get some.”

Szabo obliged him and charged with his arms
wide open. Harry stepped aside to let the monster pass and slashed
at his neck. A gash opened up, blood poured out, but it just as
quickly closed up. “My regenerative powers are beyond yours,” Szabo
roared as he turned for another rush. “You cannot beat me. It would
take much more than you have to kill me.”

Wisps of smoke from the lower levels crept
in, followed by cries of agony from the trapped transgenics. “Your
friends are getting roasted,” Harry said.

Szabo glanced briefly in the direction of the
door. “I do not care,” he replied, his voice icy. “I can make more.
I will make armies! But you will not live long enough to see
that.”

This time, he moved in more slowly, weaving
his hands in a tight defensive circle. With the edge in height and
weight, not to mention power, he made a fearsome opponent. Fighting
hand to hand, Harry bobbed and weaved, blocked and parried the
punches and doubled up his punches to the monster’s body. While his
swipes always brought out the blood, Szabo hardly seemed to feel
it.

The smoke continued to pour in. It set up a
cloud and Harry found it difficult to find his target. After
another sweeping slash, Szabo grabbed him and tossed him against
the far wall. Harry barely missed getting impaled by some
protruding steel spikes. Roughly five inches in length, they were
rusty and old, but still sharp. One of them scored his back and he
fell to the floor. “Ha, you cannot win,” said Szabo, triumph lacing
each word. “You cannot win.”

He lumbered over and began to club Harry over
the neck and back. Each hammer blow brought more pain and every
disc in his spine felt as if it were being crushed. On the verge of
blacking out, Harry heard the monster’s mocking laugh. “You are
done. And after I finish you, your girlfriend will be next!”

With that utterance, something snapped inside
Harry’s mind and rage took over—rage, and reason. Fighting Szabo
his way wouldn’t work. Feline... Harry was part feline... and
felines knew how to circle in and out against much bigger
opponents. The man-shark raised his arms for the killing blow and
Harry ducked and rolled out of the way just in time. The massive
shark man’s fists smashed into the concrete and he bellowed in
pain.

Getting to his feet, Harry forced his claws
out as far as they’d go. “I’m not finished yet.”

The sounds of screaming below and the fact
that it was getting very hot lent greater urgency to the battle.
This had to end soon or they’d both fry. Szabo lunged, and Harry’s
combat training returned to him full force. He jumped backwards and
landed on the edge of a table. A millisecond later, he sprang
forward, flipped over his opponent’s head and slashed his eye as he
did so. Szabo roared in pain. “You little insect, I will smash
you!”

“Who’s your daddy?” Harry asked and dialed up
the mocking tone to high. “Oh wait, you don’t know who he is, do
you?”

Another cry of rage came from Szabo. “I will
kill you for this!”

“Try it.”

In an absolute fury, Szabo grabbed and threw
equipment, chairs, anything he could get his hands on. Harry ducked
and sidestepped each toss, circled out of range, all the while
tossing insults. “Other kids call you psycho... or was that what
your father said?”

More snarls and more lunges followed, but the
impossible began to happen. Szabo’s rushes got slower. He still had
the edge in strength, though, and his damaged eye had just about
healed. Stealing a quick glance to his left, Harry realized that
the man-shark had maneuvered him into a position just shy of the
spikes. Last chance, so he asked, “Does Martuska know what a loser
you are? She needs a better father figure than you. Maybe Kulakov
will do.”

That seemed to trigger something worse, as
Szabo let out a cry of pure rage and charged him, head down. Like a
matador evading a bull, Harry simply moved out of the way and let
momentum rule the day. Szabo ran headfirst into the spikes and
lobotomized himself.

“You... you little man,” he said, his voice
growing weaker. He tried to pull free, but couldn’t. “I will...”
His voice trailed off, but he continued to struggle.

It was time to end this. Harry walked over,
extended his claws and slammed his hands into Szabo’s neck as far
as they could go. The behemoth let out a strangled sound and shoved
his hands against the wall in an attempt to extricate his head from
the metal. “You... will never win,” he burbled out.

In desperation, Harry shoved his hands in
further, found the spinal cord and yanked on it as hard as
possible. Blood poured from Szabo’s neck and spilled out onto the
floor. Battle finished for the moment, Harry sagged down to one
knee in exhaustion. “I just did.”

Szabo’s body still quivered. There was only
one way to make sure that he was history. Getting to his feet,
Harry pulled his opponent’s body away from the wall, lugged it over
to the shark, and tossed it inside with a mighty heave.

The shark moved toward its meal and its jaws
opened wide. Harry turned his head away. Bending at the waist, he
inhaled great gulps of air, trying to slow his heart down.

A second later, he began to cough as a thick
wall of smoke enveloped the room. Cries for help from the trapped
and perhaps damned souls downstairs pierced the air. Time to go,
but where was Istvan...

“You,” a voice from behind him said. “You
have ruined everything!”

Harry spun around on his heel. Kulakov stood
there, an expression of total fury on his face. “There is a fire
here and I cannot control it,” he screamed, every limb on his body
quivering. “You have killed my subjects!”

“No, I’ve killed your dream,” Harry said,
forcing the words out. It hurt to talk and breathing made the pain
even worse. “It’s over. The fire will clean everything up. You’re
done.”

“Am I?”

Kulakov came at him in a blur of speed, arms
working fast, chopping and hacking away. Harry got blindsided. He’d
almost figured out the thing’s patterns, but Kulakov landed a sharp
chop on his neck and Harry went down, temporarily paralyzed. “I am
not finished yet,” he said and dragged Harry over to the service
elevator.

Inside, the monstrosity punched the button
and up they went until the elevator stopped and the door opened.
Wind buffeted the area and Harry felt the clutching hands pick him
up and toss him out onto the hard rock. “We are at the top now,”
Kulakov snarled. “Only one of us will leave. It will not be
you.”