Revolution (28 page)

“Except for one thing,” Harry interrupted. He
felt the heat of anger and frustration growing within him. It was
time to let it out. “We don’t have the freedom to do what we want
on our
own
time.”

“And it’s always the same excuse,” Anastasia
chimed in. “The time’s not right, the people won’t understand...
all of that.”

Harry cast a glance at Anastasia, who nodded
in affirmation. With a sigh that smacked of resignation, Farrell
asked the obvious question. “So what do you want?”

“This is our chance to walk around freely,”
Harry stated and made his voice sound as determined as possible.
“Make the press conference happen.”

“What if I don’t?”

Anastasia offered a smile and linked her arm
with Harry’s. Together, they began to walk out of the hangar. “Then
we’ll do it anyway,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The press loves
a good story, and I’m kind of cute.”

Jet lag or not, Farrell did a very fine
impression of an Olympic sprinter and ran over to the door in order
to block it. Harry stifled a laugh, but the agent obviously didn’t
have a humorous bone in his body, and his face still wore a dubious
expression.

“I figured that it might come to this,” he
murmured. In a sudden burst of what had to be resignation, he threw
up his hands. “Okay, fine, if you do what you want to do, are you
prepared for what people will say? What they might do? If we go
public, the FBI can’t protect you like we once did.”

“You didn’t do a whole lot for us before,”
Anastasia pointed out. She added quickly, “You didn’t know about
the other enhanced people. I get that. But the world’s going to
find out sooner or later, and we want it to be on our terms, not
theirs.”

Time stood still for a few interminable
moments. Finally, with a sigh that signaled defeat, Farrell said,
“If that’s what you want, let’s get it done. My superiors aren’t
going to like it, I can tell you.”

“They don’t have to shave with seven razors
every morning,” Harry answered.

Farrell made good on his promise. After he’d
taken them to FBI headquarters for a quick cleanup job along with a
change of clothes, he called for a press conference. It took place
at noon, on the steps right outside headquarters.

With a police blockade in place, the citizens
came, gawked, gasped when they realized this was no publicity
stunt, and then the press showed up. For the first time in a long
time, Harry wore a short-sleeved shirt along with his usual jeans.
He stole a look at Anastasia as she stood next to him on the dais.
She wore a yellow blouse and skirt and they matched the color of
her fur and eyes perfectly. Yellow was definitely her color, he
thought.

It seemed as though the press thought so,
too, as the photographers snapped Anastasia’s picture and jockeyed
for position in order to get the best angle. Farrell looked
distinctly uncomfortable as he fidgeted all the way through, wiping
his forehead every few seconds.

While a few people seemed to find the whole
idea repulsive or thought it a simple publicity stunt, most seemed
accommodating. That, Harry thought, was probably the best way. You
couldn’t like everyone, but at the very least, you could be
civil.

An old man stood at the back of the crowd
wearing a ratty suit. He was listening intently to the
question-and-answer session with a slight smile on his face. It was
Morozoff. He nodded and Harry nodded back. He glanced at
Anastasia—she must have seen him, for she also nodded. Morozoff
waved goodbye and disappeared into the shifting throng.

One reporter called out, “What are you going
to do now? Are you still working with the FBI? Do we have to be
worried?”

It was a standard question—one that Harry had
been expecting all along. Part of him wanted to answer, but the
other part said to wait, let them figure it out on their own.
Finally, after three seconds, which to him seemed like an eternity,
Farrell spoke up. “Their work is on a voluntary basis,” he answered
and then added, “They’re both citizens of this country. Their
loyalty isn’t something that anyone should question.”

Anastasia put up her hand. The gallery
immediately quieted down. “You asked about danger. We’re not the
ones you should be scared of. A few months ago, lynch mobs came
after us. The police were checking for dangerous mutants. They
should have checked the regular people first.”

“Miss.... uh,” one reporter began.

“My name is Anastasia,” she reminded him.

Another reporter held up his hand for
attention. “Anastasia, there were others, um, sort of like you.
We’ve all seen the pictures. We saw what they could do and what
they did. You’re asking us to believe you, just like that?”

She gave him not a hard stare, but what
seemed like an honest appraisal. “Yes, there were others like us,
other transgenic experiments that were into killing, but we’re not
about that. Agent Farrell has told you what we’re all about. We’re
just like you... only furrier.”

Her statement provoked a laugh from the
crowd. More flashes went off and a few civilians juxtaposed
themselves between the crowd and the stage in order to take a few
selfies. Selfies, Harry thought, what was this about selfies?
Someone always had to take a picture and get their fifteen minutes
in.

“What about war?” someone asked.

“I think you’ve seen too many movies,” Harry
shot back. Most of the people in attendance chuckled. Some didn’t,
though. They remained quiet, watching with guarded expressions. To
him, they were the most dangerous ones of all.

“There’s no war,” he added. “There are no
mutants against humans, no threats to take over the government, and
there’s no us against you.”

Anastasia chimed in, “It’s not us versus you.
It’s just us.”

Murmuring broke out among the press and the
ordinary citizenry, with people turning to one another, looks of
confusion and acceptance and a couple dozen other emotions going
on. After a few seconds of buzz-play passed, a different reporter
asked, “So where are you going now?”

“We’re going shopping,” Anastasia answered.
“I need some new clothes.”

More laughter came from the crowd along with
the usual questions of lifestyle and plans for the future, until
Farrell decided that enough was enough. “I’ll have a full statement
for all of you tomorrow,” he said by way of closing. With that, he
ushered Harry and Anastasia inside the building.

“That... was pretty intense,” he said,
observing the crowd as it jostled outside the closed doors. “Was it
really necessary to call a press conference?”

“Yeah, it was,” Anastasia answered.

Farrell shrugged. “I guess it was. So where
are you going now?”

“Home,” answered Harry, feeling tired and
exhilarated at the same time.

“I’ll get the car.”

Farrell took them downstairs to the
underground garage and asked them to wait. “I have to get something
from my office.”

He came back five minutes later carrying two
small paper bags, opened his car door, pulled his aging and
decrepit Ford out and bade them to get in. “Here we go,” he said,
stepping on the accelerator.

The noonday traffic was heavy, but for once
Anastasia didn’t get carsick. Three hours later, they arrived in
the Catskills, back to where it had all started. It was only
fitting that it should end there.

Parking the car near the cabin, Farrell
turned around in his seat. He handed over the bags he’d taken.
“What’s this?” Anastasia asked.

“Look inside.”

Harry did. He found his passport and a thick
wad of bills bound together by a rubber band. Anastasia let out a
gasp and showed off the contents of her bag. They were the same as
Harry’s. “Why... did you do this?” she asked.

Farrell’s face never changed expression.
“You’ll need this to start off with. If you ever need anything
else, you know where to reach me.”

Anastasia leaned over and planted a tiny kiss
on his cheek. His stone façade cracked as he flushed a brilliant
red, but he patted her shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll let Jason and Tina know you’re okay,”
he said. “I’ll, uh,” he stopped to clear his throat, “I’ll call you
in a couple of days. Get going.”

“Thank you,” Harry said as he pulled his
girlfriend out of the car with him.

The cabin sat there, an oasis in the woods.
Once they got inside, Anastasia plucked the bags from him, tossed
them on the table and pulled him toward the bedroom. He went
willingly, only noting in passing that the place had been scrubbed
clean and smelled as fresh as the outdoors. Once they passed
through the portal, Anastasia whispered, “I don’t care if we stink.
It’s just us here now.”

After taking her in his arms, he nuzzled her
nose and kissed her deeply. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Early the next morning, Harry slipped out of
bed, stretched, and took a long, hot shower. Padding over to the
closet, he took out a t-shirt and fresh pair of boxer shorts and
flicked on the television. He kept the volume low so as not to
disturb his girlfriend, and watched the replay of yesterday’s video
conference. “Have to say, Anastasia looks better than I do,” he
murmured. She’d looked composed, while he shook in his seat,
looking distinctly uncomfortable. Nervous or not, he felt that he’d
made the right decision.

As he shut off the television, his gaze fell
on his computer. It sat on the table, undisturbed by the cleaning
staff. The program he’d been working on had finished and the result
displayed made him gasp.
One hundred percent viable,
it
read
.

This was the answer. The one he’d been
working on all this time. It meant that all he needed was another
Genesis Chamber and he’d be transformed back into his original
body. Anastasia would benefit as well. This was the answer... but
he decided to wait until she was awake and then tell her. It had to
be her decision.

The computer beeped. Calling up the program,
he read out the results of Istvan’s blood tests, the ones he’d sent
from Budapest. What he saw was unbelievable. Even before Istvan had
been transformed, his blood held the key to solving a number of
diseases, including cancer, the dreaded killer that had claimed the
life of Harry’s father only one year ago.

Harry carefully copied the information onto
another disc and set it aside. Thinking about it further, he made
two more copies and hid them in an alcove. It was just a
precaution.

Once done, he came back to his computer and
studied the information in front of him. This was going to
revolutionize medicine as he knew it. He’d get to work on it as
soon as possible. When the time was right, he’d make his
presentation to the medical world. The pharmaceutical companies
would probably scream about their profit margins, but damn the
consequences, no one would have to die in vain.

For now, though, Anastasia’s voice called him
back to the bedroom. “Harry, where are you?”

“I’m out here,” he answered and quickly
closed the top of the computer before going back to bed. “I was
just checking on some things. Everything’s fine.”

As he padded into the bedroom, Anastasia sat
up, back against the backboard, a light blanket wrapped around her.
She regarded him with a calm gaze. “How did I look on the
tube?”

Damn, she’d heard everything, he thought.
“You looked beautiful,” he said, and meant every word. “I still
have to work on my stage presence.”

She giggled, but soon her expression changed
to a somber one. “So... what other good news do you have? I heard
the computer beep. How did the tests go?”

She’d heard that, too. “Um... we can change
back.”

Their fifteen minutes of fame forgotten, her
eyes widened. “Tell me.”

He did, leaving nothing out, and once he was
done, she offered a smile. “How long will it take to build another
chamber?”

Rapidly calculating the numbers, he gave her
the offer of three months. “That’s if the engineers can prepare
everything according to the specs. They did it before, so,” he
shrugged, “they can do it again.”

She looked down at her body, bit her lip and
her voice came out softly. “You know, I never wanted to be anything
other than what I was. I was human once, with a normal body and a
normal life. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be a freak or
be called one.”

“You’re not—”

Anastasia put her hand to his lips. “Wait,
hear me out. I never wanted to be turned into something I’m not,
but since I met you, you showed me that to be something different
isn’t anything to be ashamed of. You changed for me. You did it
because you loved me, didn’t you?”

“I did. I still do.”

She offered a quiet and rather shy smile.
“And now, after the press conference, I realize that I’m not
ashamed to be seen by anyone. Not anymore. And I can live with
that.” Her face a study in naked honesty, she added, “We’ll always
have the chance to be what we were, if we want.”

Her hand came up to caress the side of his
face. “But for now, we’re what we are—and I’m down with that.” She
leaned back and a wry smile appeared. “What are you thinking about,
boyfriend? You’ve got that broody look again.”

Harry didn’t know what to say at first. He’d
done all this research, spent countless hours for a cure... but he
realized that the cure was right in front of his eyes. It was her,
and it always had been her. “I was just thinking... kiss me now and
seal the deal,” he said.

“Let me take a shower first.”

Anastasia slipped out of bed and ran to the
shower. While she was getting clean, his mind went through a few
scenarios with the Genesis Chamber. He also wondered if there were
really other transgenic people gestating in some hidden laboratory
somewhere in Europe or the Far East or even here.