The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (22 page)

Several steps
inside the building, Lorna turned around. A cork bulletin board
covered with photographs of people hung on the front wall. Ed’s
picture occupied the pinnacle of the rough pyramid.

“There must be
two hundred of them,” one of the patrolmen speculated.

“I wonder who
they are.”

Lorna knew.
Key members of The Others still living on Earth, including the
families, were there. The ones she didn’t recognize must be from
other regions. Under each photo, someone had written detailed notes
in black marker. Lorna took cell phone photographs of the
board.

“Sorry, guys,”
said one of the firefighters, rushing up to her. “The place hasn’t
been verified safe yet. You need to leave.” He gave Lorna a hard
stare. “Right now.”

“Ma’am, he’s
right,” a patrolman said, nudging her toward the door with a touch
on the elbow.

“It’s a safety
issue. There could be a flare-up or even a booby trap. We can wait
in the patrol car, if you like,” the other one added.

Lorna took her
time, studying the board, and committing to memory all she could. A
photograph of her sat near the top, just below Ed’s. Unlike most of
the rest, hers had a big question mark written on it. To her
relief, the poor focus made identifying her impossible. Valeria, as
yet also unidentified, stood several levels below Ed in the
makeshift hierarchy.

On the side
walls hung larger photographs of hollow-cheeked, wild-eyed Ferals,
from the most recent to at least two generations back. These were
the images X-10 wanted the world to see—psychopathic predators
living on the fringe of humanity, good for nothing but
extermination. X-10 even had a copy of the Pulitzer Prize-winning
photograph of Cynthia Meadows, accompanied by First Mother Sam,
squatting side-by-side in a lycan state. The original picture
showed them mourning Cynthia’s mate. He’d died in the process of
saving thirty hostages during a bank robbery attempt that resulted
in The Others revealing their existence. X-10 had altered the
picture to show them feeding on the entrails of a naked, human
male.

“Ma’am, I’m
going to have to ask you for that,” the leader of the firefighters
said when he saw her taking cellphone pictures of the wall
hangings. “You’re holding evidence in a possible arson.”

“I don’t think
so,” Lorna said. “It’s evidence in something much bigger.”

“Officer, will
you please acquaint the lieutenant with the rules?”

“Ma’am, he’s
right. The Fire Department has first dibs on evidence at all
fires.”

Right then,
the female firefighter walked in with the crew’s bomb-sniffing dog
on a leash. “Max won’t be long,” she said.

The dog rolled
menacing eyes in Lorna’s direction and lifted a lip, showing black
gums along with yellowed teeth. The animal growled for a second or
two before lunging at her with a staccato of deep snarling
barks.

“She’s a
woofer,” A firefighter muttered from behind. Lorna sensed them
closing in. If one had a stun gun, she was a goner. Holding the
cell phone tightly, she morphed to exclamation of a couple of “Holy
shits” from the patrol officers, and bounded from the building,
leaving her outfit behind in rags. They untethered the dog, but
Lorna had too large a head start. Even if somehow the animal caught
up to her, in lycan form, she could kill it, but not without
sustaining significant injury.

Her car sat
off the road at the edge of the clearing. Returning to human form,
she retrieved the ignition keys, covered herself with a police
jacket, and pointed the car toward the sanctuary of corporate
headquarters, thankful for having the foresight to leave her purse
and ID in the car. Once on her way with no threats in sight, she
dialed Ethan.

I guess the
Fire Department doesn’t have the same standards on background
investigations.

“Stand by,”
she said before he had a chance to speak. “I’m sending you photos
from the X-10 meeting room.”

“What happened
to you, Lorna?” After recovering from the surprise of hearing Ed’s
voice, relief swept over her.

“Got my butt
caught in a bit of a sling trying to save our kit and kin. What
about you?”

“The
photographs are coming through now,” Ethan said. “Where are you?
We’ll send a car to escort you in.”

“Have them
bring a change of clothes.”

* * * *

Once on the
road, she figured herself to be safe. That relief was short lived
once she remembered the GPS, standard issue on all police vehicles.
Doubtless, the firefighters had prevailed on the uniforms, none of
whom was among the sharpest tool in the shed, to track the car.
Within minutes, a menacing-looking SUV pulled in behind her.
Another cut in ahead. Stopping wouldn’t work. Turning down a side
road was also no good because they were all dead ends in that part
of town. Morphing to run for the next precinct station seemed the
best option. Hope existed of getting there before the pack of dogs
caged in the SUVs caught her. If she did nothing, they’d take her
at the dark stretch of road a few miles ahead.

While she
debated the options, two larger SUVs came to the rescue. They cut
in front and behind, separating her car from the X-10 vehicles. The
one in front butted the X-10 ahead, while the other slowed to a
creep, letting nothing pass. After a minute or so, the bad guys
peeled off. The convoy entered corporate headquarters through the
underground parking lot. At the checkpoint, a woman waited with a
change of clothes for Lorna. After a quick side trip to the ladies
room, they cleared the ID check and boarded the express elevator to
the penthouse.

The elevator
door swished open to a vestibule. An armed guard sat at a desk in
front of the door, a massive, dark-wood twelve-footer. Showing a
warm, reassuring expression, he said, “Good to see you’re safe, Ms.
Winters. Everyone’s already inside.” He opened the great door,
revealing a spacious lounge area.

A score of
unfamiliar faces idled on the elegant furniture, sipping drinks or
picking at a buffet. Lorna passed an attractive blonde in a suede
miniskirt. Upon standing, the hem came to just above mid-thigh.
When she returned to repose on the felt cushions, it rode up close
to her crotch. She presented the sulky, pouty countenance of
someone who expected to be indulged, but who, at the moment,
wasn’t. Lorna smelled Bobby’s scent on her. They’d had recent sex.
Upon further inspection, she recognized Cynthia’s older brothers,
in from Atlanta, both hybrids.

“In here,
ma’am.” The security guard opened another twelve-foot-tall
door.

In the large,
bright room, a table, similar to the one where Lorna shared the
first meal with Ed, dominated the space. Ed sat in his accustomed
position, at the far head. The rest of the family gathered around.
Toby and Ethan sat near their father. Lorna ignored the vacant seat
beside Ed, refusing to face the embarrassment of being asked to
vacate when Valeria arrived. If Ed saw Lorna enter, he showed no
notice. To be fair, the staff crowded around, keeping him pretty
busy.

After one or
two others arrived behind her, Ed looked up at the gathering with
the penetrating stare that thrilled her to the core. “All right,
then, let’s get started.” Despite the formidable expression,
circles under his eyes told her he hadn’t slept well in days.

Was nightlife
getting you down?

An image lit
up a white screen beyond Ed, one of the cell phone pictures Lorna
had taken of the bulletin board, with the annotated photographs of
The Others. “This was taken tonight at the local headquarters of
X-10 by a brave operative at great personal risk.” He cast a
tentative, hopeful smile at Lorna. “While analysis is incomplete, a
first approximation suggests every key member in the Americas,
including hybrids, is portrayed.”

“This means
our directory has been compromised,” Thomas added. “I think we can
assume X-10 knows the name, as well as address, of every one of
us.”

“We also have
strong evidence X-10 possesses a virus deadly to our kind.”

“How is that
possible?” demanded Cynthia’s brother.

Ed told the
history of Armendariz’s work, culminating in the Muslim Bomb.
“We’re almost certain there is now a similar weapon designed for
us,” he said in conclusion.

“We can’t just
sit by allowing them to pick us off. I say let’s take them out!”
someone shouted from the back of the room.

“No, we’d be
playing into their hands. They could wrap themselves in the
regional flag, carry a cross, and claim we’re what they’ve accused
us of being for the past hundred years.”

Ed’s animated,
passionate demeanor held everyone’s attention. Profiled against the
screen, the tensed jaw line stood out, complementing the jutting
chin. The actinic projector beam gave his flesh an orange hue, like
the stylized coloring of the figures on ancient Greek pottery.

“Well, if we
can’t protect ourselves, what do we do?” demanded someone else,
after which a general confusion of voices filled the room.

When the noise
died down, Bobby stood, assuming a stance separating him from the
general hue and cry. A reddish blood hickey glowed on his neck, an
artifact of the sexual encounter with Miss Pouty Puss. The crowd
hushed to silence. Facing his father, he said in a clear but soft,
almost self-deprecating, voice, “I have an idea that might work.
Why don’t we bring everyone here until the authorities clear things
up? We have the best detection equipment in the world. Our people
couldn’t be safer.”

Ed seemed
relieved at the idea. Lorna wondered if she’d witnessed a rare
occasion when his quick mind was at a loss. “Go on, son.”

“Well, we
might be a little crowded. Everyone would have to double up in most
of the apartment units. Once you’re in, you’re in. The bio filters
are protection against the virus. It won’t be too bad. Think of the
shorter commute. I’m sure my father’s already calculating the
additional man-hours the company stands to gain.” Pausing to let
the laughter circulate around the room, he continued. “I think we
can get everything done by tomorrow evening. Who’s with me on
this?”

A roll of
applause throughout the room answered him. With the issue settled,
the meeting began to break up. Later, Karla asked if she and
Cynthia could share the condominium. “Of course,” Lorna answered.
“The place belongs to you more than to me.”

“Oh, don’t say
such things,” Karla said, patting Lorna’s hand. “You’re a part of
the family now.”

She glanced up
at Ed, standing beside Bobby, talking to a group of relatives.

Maybe you
should tell your younger brother.

* * * *

Soon, she
found herself facing Ed. “We still need to talk,” he said.

“We have too
much to do right now. Conversation can wait. I’m not going
anywhere.”

The three
sons, Lorna, and Ed remained after the crowd cleared out. A man in
a white smock loaded another CD into the projector, launching into
a presentation. “Quarantine must be complete, including hybrids.
They’re more likely to carry the disease after contact.”

“Why not The
Others?” Lorna asked.

“Because of
the virulence, they die within thirty-six hours, affording minimum
opportunity to spread the contagion.”

“How do you
know this?”

“My
conclusions are based on Armed Forces studies done on the so called
Muslim Bomb. The government designed the weapon to have maximum
effect on the most common genetic model of Muslim. Death occurred
in twenty to thirty-six hours, with ninety-percent mortality.
Variations from the ideal genome experienced lower mortality rates,
but they spread the disease for up to a week before showing
symptoms. The technology exists to alter the target genetic model
to other than Arabic, along with how the virus works within the
genetic variations.”

“So what
you’re saying is the virus kills lycans and vampires quickly, but
hybrids less so,” Ed summarized.

“Or not at
all. Turning hybrids to pure carriers spreads the pathogen more
efficiently. There’s more. Because The Others genetic make-up is
more specific than Arabic, we expect infected victims to approach
one hundred percent mortality.”

When the
threat broke on the news, OPD must have assumed Lorna wouldn’t be
coming in because no one inquired after her absence. For two days,
lines of The Others and hybrids, accompanied by a few human
intimates, formed in the street at the doorstep of corporate
headquarters. The children, able to salvage fun from anything,
treated the event like an adventure or camping trip. Swarms of them
populated the hallways and break areas, keeping a step ahead of
parents and security guards.

When Bobby the
professional bachelor complained, his father laughed. “You’ve been
away from little ones too long. I forgot how much I miss having
them around.”

Bobby’s human
girlfriend hung around him like a cloak. Indifferently, she
observed Lorna’s entry. With a whiney half-whisper she announced a
desire to return to their room, punctuating the request with a
sweet-breathed ear lick, making everyone uncomfortable.

Cynthia voiced
the room’s consensus. “Get a room, guys.”

Ed ignored the
scene by striding ahead. Lorna’s gaze paused on the swift movement
of lean hips propelling the large, square frame and carrot-haired
head away from her.

The girlfriend
made a reproachful sigh in Cynthia’s general direction before
peeling off, with Bobby on her arm.

“I don’t like
her,” Cynthia said after they left. She, Lorna, and Karla now stood
alone. Lorna nodded in agreement.

“Oh,” Cynthia
continued, pausing in front of a mirror to smile as if verifying
the two rows of flawless teeth were still there. “Uncle Ed’s got a
meeting in Rocket City tomorrow. I’m going stir crazy in here. He
said I could tag along. Why don’t you come with us?”