Revolution (3 page)

Farrell’s face became a deep red, which soon
turned purple with rage. If he was angry, though, his expression
didn’t show it. His voice, though, betrayed his feelings, as it
came out low with a hint of danger in it. “I’ll have a word with
them about the patrols,” he said. “Excuse me.”

He stalked off and thirty seconds later, the
sound of shouting and expletives echoed over to their position. “I
guess we’ll have to be more careful when we go out at night,”
Anastasia remarked as she hefted the bags and sniffed the contents.
A look of satisfaction spread across her face. “Hey, he brought a
couple of filet steaks this time. I think grilling is on the menu
tonight.”

Inside the kitchen, she started to put the
groceries away and a few seconds later, Farrell walked in. “I had a
word with my men,” he announced. “And I apologize for that.”

“Have you found anything?” asked Harry. He
sat at his workstation, performing computer simulations on DNA
transposition. The program he’d installed was running. Whether the
computer was on or off didn’t matter. He’d know the results in
roughly two days, so he closed the lid.

“No,” Farrell said and scratched his head in
what had to be a gesture of frustration. “We know there are roughly
thirty-five transgenics in and around Eastern Europe. We learned
that from our Russian friends. They’ve had numerous sightings
lately, not only in their country, but in other former Bloc
countries, and each one has been more definitive than the
last.”

“How bad are they?”

“Bad,” Farrell affirmed with a sigh. “We’ve
had reports of people being savaged, bitten up and torn apart. The
police there are publicly treating it as attacks by wild animals.
That hasn’t stopped the local media from sounding a warning
note.

“They also had a number of kidnappings in the
same time period. Mostly young people, but some older ones as well
and the police are checking that as well.”

Kidnappings... Harry didn’t want to think
about the reason why, but the answer knifed into his head anyway.
Anastasia’s gaze met his and she gave a faint nod. Clearly, she was
thinking the same thing. Whoever was kidnapping these people needed
subjects. “I’m going to go out on a limb here,” began Anastasia,
cleaning her claws with a rag, “and say that the kidnappings and
murders were linked.”

Farrell eyed them both and finally nodded.
“My guess is that they are. We’re crosschecking our references.
We’ve coordinated our efforts with the Russians, the Serbians and
the Hungarians. Those three countries have had the most sightings
and killings.”

“How many so far?” asked Harry, half-afraid
to hear the numbers.

In a far from surprising move, Farrell pulled
a folded sheet of paper from his breast pocket, carefully unfolded
it and proceeded to read out the facts. “Fifty-eight so far from
Hungary, mostly random citizens,” he said. “Russia has had over a
hundred and Serbia around thirty. These are known incidents. There
may be others that have gone unreported. Like I said, we’re still
crosschecking the data with our allies.” Facts given, he refolded
the paper and tucked it away in his pocket.

“Do you trust them?” asked Anastasia, with a
note of wariness in her voice. “I don’t.”

Farrell offered a grunt, which sounded like
he was admitting defeat. “I don’t have much of a choice. Part of
the deal we made was to share information. So far, they’ve given us
possible locations and sightings. We’ve been checking them out.
I’ve had to share a couple of tips with the Russians and the
Hungarians. As for Serbia, no, not yet, and none of them has asked
for any scientific information from us.”

“But they want it,” Anastasia said, pointing
out the obvious.

Another nod came from Farrell. “They do, but
right now it’s locked up in my office and in your head,” he said,
pointing at Harry. “And that’s where it will stay.”

He looked down at his wristwatch. “I’ve got
to get back. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

The door closed softly behind him. After
raising her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture, Anastasia helped
finish putting the groceries away and they sat down to watch
television.

“Do you really want to watch the shows?” she
asked after the fifth car in two minutes blew up on some cheapie
sci-fi movie. They sat with their arms around each other, nuzzling
noses and sharing kisses until she broke off the clinch and popped
the question.

Her voice carried a note of suggestiveness.
Light and playful, it made him think of some rather impure ideas.
It was a little early for fun, but why not? “What did you have in
mind?” he asked as he got up and headed to the bedroom.

A hiss stopped him in his tracks and he
turned to see a sour look appear on Anastasia’s face. “We can do
that later,” she said and flicked her tail at the door. “What do we
do every morning?”

Harry knew that he should have seen this
coming and inwardly, he let out a groan. “Combat training.”

She ran into the other room and came back a
minute later wearing a pair of yellow hip-hugging shorts and a
yellow tube top. Her tail whipped around her, and this time her
frown had segued into a grin. Taking his hand, she pulled him
outside into the bright sunshine and said, “Your session is
underway. Hit me, claws out and don’t hold back.”

They’d been doing this every day for the last
six weeks. Harry had improved, but he’d never been able to beat
her. As for his claws, he didn’t have to concentrate on extending
them anymore. They came out at will. A good three inches long, they
were sharp and almost as strong as steel. He feinted, slashed at
her shoulder and then felt himself yanked off his feet by her tail.
One of the drawbacks of his enhancement was no tail. Anastasia
sometimes referred to him as a Manx cat, which did not amuse him at
all.

He hit the ground hard and his head banged
painfully into the dirt. “Get up and try it again,” she
commanded.

Smile now gone, she made a motion for him to
try slashing her and Harry obliged. This time he hit the ground
face first. With a grunt that meant
I’m getting my butt
kicked,
he got to his feet. “You’re not going to take it easy
today, are you?”

Anastasia shook her head. “If we have to go
up against something bigger than we are, you’ll thank me later
on.”

“How about I say thank you now and we watch
television?”

Her face got a businesslike look to it, lips
compressed and eyes narrowed. With a slight clicking sound, her
claws came out. “Get ready.”

Harry sighed and settled into a fighting
stance. Regenerative powers or not, it was going to be a long
morning.

That night they went for a run, observed the
agents looking the wrong way—as usual—and skirted their position on
silent, padded feet. It was a total joy for them to be as one with
nature. To smell the grass that grew near them, share the space
with the other denizens of the forest and share a kiss under the
moonlight seemed to be the most romantic thing in existence.

They got back to the cabin just after eleven,
breathless and happy from their sojourn. A knock came at the door.
When they opened up, one of the FBI agents flashed his badge.

A tall and spindly man, he told Harry that
the perimeter was quiet and that he and the other agent were
patrolling diligently. “I’m glad to see the law is helping us,”
Harry said and after the agent left, he shut the door and saw his
girlfriend wearing a smile a mile wide.

“You’re pretty bad,” giggled Anastasia, while
holding a book in one hand and caressing his face with the
other.

“I try not to be,” answered Harry while
returning the caress. He suddenly stopped and cleared his throat.
“Anastasia,” he began.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Stammering out his question, he felt the
blood rush to his face and wondered if cats could blush. “Uh, since
we’ve been living together, and since you like me...”

Another giggle came from her. “I think our
relationship is more than just liking each other,” she replied.
“What are you trying to say?”

Crunch time came and he stammered out his
proposal. “Would you... er, will... do you want to get
married?”

Her eyes grew round. “Harry, get
serious.”

He touched her shoulder and then moved his
hand up to stroke the fine fur around her face. “I am serious.”

Anastasia blinked. “Wow, this is... heavy,”
she said. “Or it’s unexpected, or something.” She stared at him.
“How long have you been thinking of this?”

“About a month,” he answered. “I mean, I know
we’re both young, but since there are just the two of us... no one
else like us... I’m into you and all that...” He stopped speaking
when he saw the smile playing around her lips. “You’re not
interested?”

Immediately, her smile disappeared. In a
moment of what appeared to be a lack of self-confidence, her hands
shook as they came up to smooth the hair around her face and head.
Her voice, normally so strong and direct, sounded confused and
indecisive. It reminded him of a little child being told by its
mother that they could have chocolate or vanilla ice cream for
dessert, but not both.

“Harry,” she whispered and leaned her head
into his chest. “I’m into you too, you know that, right? It’s just
that...”

“It’s just what?”

Anastasia looked up at him and bit her lip.
“It’s just that... what we are... what people will think, all of
that. But you know that I love you, right?”

Immediately, he cursed himself for tossing
this in her lap all of a sudden. It was only natural that she was
worried about what others would think. He was as well, but he’d
never met anyone like her before and didn’t want to see anyone
else. Still... she had a point. Maybe he was rushing things. He
hugged her to him. “Okay, I’m sorry if I put too much pressure on
you...”

With a sudden shove, Anastasia pushed him
back. “It’s not that.”

Oh, he
had
pushed too hard. “Listen,
if you want to talk about it more—”

“Harry, stop it, okay?” she interrupted. “I
hear something.” Her voice had gone very quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Thoughts of getting
hitched were forgotten as the hair stood up on the nape of her
neck. A low growl came from her throat, but it wasn’t one of anger
or fear. It sounded like she was curious, but also cautious. With
quick and sure movements, she sidled over to the window, peered out
and turned back.

From the way she held her head, ears
twitching madly and nose sniffing, she’d detected something or
someone. A second later, he heard it, too, the sound of small feet
stamping on leaves. The visitor was trying to keep his or movements
as quiet as possible, but it wasn’t working. “Yeah, I hear it now,”
he said. “It’s got small feet, a small body, the size of a large
dog, right?”

“Right,” Anastasia affirmed with a quick nod.
“We’ve got company. There
is
someone outside. Whoever it is,
he or she is doing a good job of staying hidden. I can smell the
person, but it’s not like any smell I’ve ever detected.”

Now Harry’s detective skills kicked in
overtime. He took a sniff and tested the air, but his sense of
smell wasn’t as refined as hers was. “What kind of aroma are we
talking about?”

Anastasia uttered in a whisper, “You’re going
to think I’m crazy, but it smells like bacon.”

Bacon... that
did
sound crazy, but all
the same, he took what she said seriously. However, he did have
images of a massive ham tottering toward them on two meaty legs,
squashing anything and everything in its path and fought to stifle
a laugh. “If it smells like Porky Pig, then how is it covering its
scent?”

Anastasia shook her head and kept testing the
air with her nose, her nostrils rapidly dilating and expanding. “I
don’t know, unless...” She snapped her fingers and went to the
door. “Stay here, be right back.”

The way she spoke, with a sense of urgency,
made him think that things were about to get real. He went over the
far wall where a hunting rifle hung on some pegs, took it down and
checked to see if it was loaded. It wasn’t, so he went to a small
desk where he kept the shells, popped a couple into the firing
chamber and asked, “Shouldn’t I call Farrell or at least get the
agents over here?”

“No,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Not yet.
Those agents couldn’t find their belts around their waists. If I’m
right, we’ll need to talk to this person first.”

Before Harry could get a word out, she tore
out the doorwat and bounded into the brush. He heard her step
carefully among the leaves and kept his hand on the rifle just in
case. He’d practiced, but wasn’t the best shot around. His reflexes
and claws, he reckoned, were enough, but he also wasn’t foolish
enough to think he could go up against a trained marksman and
win.

A rustling in the bushes caught his
attention... it came from off to his left. It almost sounded like
something was trying to burrow under the soft earth. If something
that big was trying to tunnel under the earth, then it would make a
lot more noise. Moles burrowed, and rabbits and prairie dogs did,
too. He’d seen them, knew them by their scratching, by their scent,
gamey and thick, but this sound wasn’t like anything he’d heard
before.

The feet... it didn’t have toes or claws,
either. It was heavy, thudding and it made him think of a larger
animal with hooves. The rustling sound grew louder. Abruptly, a
squeal rang out, something high-pitched and terrified, like an
animal caught in the jaws of something much larger. The squealing
continued, followed by Anastasia yelling, “I got you! C’mon, stop
struggling. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Let me go, let me go!” a frightened voice
cried. The accent—it didn’t sound North American at all. To Harry’s
ears, it sounded European, but not Russian. Something else, he
decided.