Subject Seven (21 page)

Joe looked at Not-Kyrie for a moment and nodded, his face stony and expressionless. Then he moved over to the man whose arm she had broken. His hand reached out and gripped the spot where the man's bones hung uselessly within his skin and he squeezed.

The man bucked and thrashed and screamed before he passed out, the sudden, shocking pain too much for him.

And then Joe moved toward her and the one she'd just subdued.

“You got shot!” Her voice was loud, nervous.

He looked at his arm and tore the sleeve of his dress shirt down, revealing the wound. It had already stopped bleeding.

Joe crouched next to the man in front of her, who was still trying to catch his breath after being body slammed. He grabbed the man's left ear in his hand and lifted the man into a half-sitting position. The guard yelped and started to fight until Joe hissed at him.

“Stop fighting. Stop fighting, or I'll tear your ear off your damned head.” The man was smart enough to listen. That was for the best because Joe wasn't kidding.

“What are you?” The man's voice shook. He was terrified.

“Right now?” Joe looked up at the sky for a moment and then looked back down at his prey. “Right now I'm extremely pissed off.”

“What do you want?” The man's voice broke and he was breathing too fast. He looked ready to cry.

“I want you to answer some questions for me.”

“I can't.”

“Wrong answer.” Joe shook his hand and the man's head moved with it. It was simply a choice of going along for the ride or getting his ear torn free. “We're going to have a talk. You're going to answer some questions for me.” He smiled and leaned in closer. “And unless you want me to let her start biting pieces out of your thighs, you're going to answer them.”

He felt Not-Kyrie smile behind him as she looked at the man. His eyes bounced from one of them to the next and then he stared at her teeth. Finally he nodded. Joe could feel her disappointment. Part of her was curious as to what he might taste like.

Not-Cody waited outside for his attackers and rolled his shoulders, keeping himself loose and ready. Joe looked through his eyes and sensed his adrenaline levels. Not-Cody was excited but being cautious. He wanted to know what he could do, how much damage he could deliver and how much he could take, but he wasn't being stupid about it. Joe looked on through Not-Cody's senses but felt that same odd resistance he'd experienced before, almost like radio feedback. He tried to shake it off and focus on the battle ahead. On the other side of the building, where the other main entrance lay, he could sense Not-Gene and Not-Tina bracing themselves, preparing for the attack to come.

The air was fresh, clean and laced with dirt, soot and the faint smell of burnt gunpowder.

“Come on then. Let's dance, you losers.” The voice was deep, and the body it came from was so radically different from Cody's that Joe had trouble believing they shared a body. Cody's Other was almost twice the size of the little squirt. His shirt strained and stretched across his shoulders and chest and the waist of his pants was too tight for comfort.

The door opened and two men pointed the business ends of their rifles in his direction.

“Stand still!” The guy on the left came forward, his hands shaking just a bit as he looked toward him.

Joe was tempted to answer them, to see if he could speak through Not-Cody's mouth, but instead merely sent a command for the Other to attack and defend himself. Just the same Not-Cody's mouth opened and he answered. Joe frowned, puzzled. Not-Cody was more . . . awake than the other Others.

Not-Cody's voice was loud and clear. “I got a better idea for you. You drop your guns and run away and I won't have to beat your sorry asses!” Joe looked down from the rooftop and shook his head.

The first of the uniformed men aimed and pointed, only what came out wasn't a bullet. Joe knew immediately because he'd dealt with the box-shaped guns before. Tasers. The darts were moving at high speeds, Joe saw through Cody's eyes, but they seemed to slow down as he looked at them and the two long wires that led back to the gun.

Not-Cody dodged the darts with ease.

Joe smiled as Not-Cody loped forward, using his hands and his feet alike to get him where he was going. The man was still looking at the dart, his eyes just starting to widen, his mind just registering that he'd missed his target, when his target delivered a vicious uppercut.

Not-Cody had no combat experience. He just had his speed and his strength, his mind and his intuition. The sound of bones breaking reached his ears and he lashed out with his other hand, slapping the man toward the next gunman. The one with the automatic rifle. Not-Cody was excited, his emotions so easy to read: the men attacking moved so slowly—at human speed—while Not-Cody recognized himself to be far from human. Joe could understand the feeling.

The second man let out a yelp that was cut short as his body smashed into the doorjamb. Not-Cody charged forward again, knocking both of the men out of his way as he headed for the next ones.

On the left was a man with a pistol in one hand and a Taser in the other. He would have been a threat, but he didn't seem to know which weapon to point. Not-Cody grabbed the man with both hands and heaved, swinging the soldier toward the right, once again using the meat he was fighting as a weapon. The guy on the right was still bringing his rifle up when his friend ran into him and sent them both staggering.

Joe Bronx called out in Not-Cody's head.
Take them out. Break them. No mercy.

And to his surprise, Not-Cody answered. “I don't do mercy. That's Cody's shtick.” Joe frowned. This wasn't what he'd expected. Not-Cody was so different from the others that he pulled himself from the other Other's mind and merely looked on as the brute finished fighting the guards.

Not-Cody's hands hit the ground and he brought his legs up to his chest as he twisted his body around. When his head was close to the ground, he kicked out with all his might and his feet drove into the chest of the fifth opponent. The impact sent the soldier through the air and drove him into the ceiling's tiles before he dropped back to the ground.

And just that fast, the fight was done.

Joe looked down from his position on the roof and stared at Not-Cody as the Hyde stared at the soldiers, all of them bleeding, broken.

Despite his hesitation, Joe moved back to eavesdropping on Not-Cody's mind, taking in his senses, his emotions, but not saying anything, merely observing. Not-Cody was interesting but also unsettling. He didn't like that sensation at all. Not-Cody leaned over the first one, the one with the broken face. The man moaned and looked his way, but there was no sign of actual thought in those blue eyes.

“That all you got?” The man didn't answer. “Heh. Loser.”

Joe wanted to call out—there were others to fight and Not-Cody could have helped—but instead he just observed. There was something going on inside the Hyde's head that he wanted to understand.

Not-Cody could have charged through the building, could have gone to help the others, but instead he looked at the broken soldiers for a long moment and then shrugged.

Joe pulled away from Not-Cody's mind when he realized what the Hyde intended to do. Not-Cody wanted to play. The first of the soldiers let out a moan and tried to sit up. He became the first toy.

Not-Gene and Not-Tina stood together at the front of the building, their hands held over their heads. What had been Gene stood on the left. What had been Tina was on the right. Both of them fully understood how the other felt. This was intoxicating. This, all of it, was life, and they were not used to it.

Joe Bronx spoke to them, his voice calm and smooth.
Let them come to you. Let them think they have the advantage. When they come closer, take them down.

Not-Gene shook his head. “Why don't we just kill them now?” He was genuinely curious, Joe could feel that.

Not-Tina nodded enthusiastically.

There are too many of them. You have eleven of them coming your way.
The view from the roof had its advantages.

They looked at each other. “Eleven?” Not-Gene frowned. He was already cautious, like his Other. While Not-Gene was thinking, Not-Tina crouched down and grabbed at the cement near her feet. It was broken and her fingers broke it a second time, tearing chunks of the stuff away from the sidewalk. She squinted at the debris and heaved, pulling two substantial lumps of the sidewalk away.

She hefted the pieces, each weighing easily twenty pounds, and then stepped back from the door.

“What are you doing?” Not-Gene looked toward her, but Joe already understood. He could feel her thoughts, limited though they were. Neither of them was as fully aware as Not-Cody was yet. They were still waking from their fifteen-year naps, and they were not as capable of thought as Not-Cody. They were growing, becoming full personalities, but they weren't there yet. What made Not-Cody so different? Joe had no idea.

Not-Tina looked to Not-Gene. “Ever go bowling?”

“No.”

“Time to learn a new game, hon.”

The door opened a moment later, and the soldiers started pouring out. They were not cautious enough. They were carrying firearms and probably thought that gave them an advantage. Not-Tina hurled a slab of concrete toward the men, taking several of them out at once.

Not-Tina let out a battle cry and jumped at the doors and the men started retreating, probably ready to piss themselves. She was a savage and Joe had been in her mind when she attacked the mobsters and took the money from them. Not-Tina was filled with rage; it was a part of her as surely as Tina shared the same body with her. Tina was loud and brash, true, but this one? She wanted blood. She wanted to break things.

Apparently Not-Gene didn't want her to have all of the fun. “Save some for me!”

She didn't answer. She just screamed and threw her whole body into an effort to knock a man senseless. The soldier slammed into the wall of the building and his body left a dent.

Not-Gene didn't charge into the fray. Instead he reached for the pistol he'd shoved into his belt and checked the safety. Joe grinned again. Not-Kyrie had been trained in self-defense as a result of Kyrie taking the classes. The same was true of Not-Gene. Gene had been taught firearm safety by his father. Apparently the men in the Rothstein family went hunting. Joe could glean that much with ease. Gene was afraid of guns. Not-Gene didn't share in that fear.

Not-Gene shot two soldiers that would have probably killed Not-Tina. Joe, meanwhile, was marveling at how savage Not-Tina was and how careful and calculating Not-Gene was in comparison. Just then Joe felt two Taser darts slam into Not-Gene's arm. Joe shut off the mental connection he had with the Other just before the current blasted through him. On the rooftop he could hear Not-Gene scream in pain.

Tasers are interesting devices. They send electric current through the body at a voltage level that closely mimics the charge the human brain and nervous system use. The end result is a complete and very painful overload of the nervous system. Muscle control is instantly removed and most people are paralyzed for as long as the charge is administered. Normally the only damage done is in the form of two small punctures that allow the charge to contact the body directly.

Ah, but the pain they generate? That's something else entirely. Joe had experienced it a few times and had no desire to feel it again.

Gene's Other had never experienced pain directly before. He had never experienced much of anything before, really. He howled as the charge hit and promptly dropped to the ground. His vision blurred, his teeth clenched, his hands jittered and a deep groan came from his throat.