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“I’m sure she’s fine, Will. Well, I mean, she’s in no additional danger because of Pfeffer.” She said his name like it tasted bad.

“But he sent us there, Mick. Was that a trick? So we’d find her and … I don’t know … turn her over to him or something?” My mind was working crazy–fast thinking how Pfeffer had set us up with a place to live
in the same town
where Sam lived. “There’s got to be a reason he did that.”

Sir Walter frowned. “This troubled me also, as we returned home just now. But I am inclined to be of your sister’s opinion. Sam is in no
additional
danger because of what Pfeffer might or might not have planned. Indeed, if he had intended to use you in this way, those plans have surely been overthrown now that you have left Las Abuelitas.”

“I don’t like it,” I said. The air had returned to the room, but all I wanted to do was jump on a plane
yesterday
and get back to make sure Sam was okay. Had Pfeffer figured out we’d left town? Did that mean she was safer or in worse danger? What had he meant, sending us there? Or was it all—maybe, somehow—just a bizarre coincidence and he’d never known about Sam’s existence?

Well, he must know by now, being BFF’s with Helmann. I noticed my hands had crept to my hair. Geez. Hair–pulling was contagious.

“We’re not going back,” said my sister. “Will, listen to me. Sam has Chrétien to take care of her. And she’s better at rippling fast. You said so yourself. You can’t go to Las Abuelitas.”

I could be on a plane and over to San Francisco in ten hours.

I looked away from her, trying to find a part of me that agreed with what she was saying.

I could grab a couple thousand euros from Sir Walter, get the next flight out.

“Will.” Mick placed an arm around my shoulder and squeezed hard. “Listen. This isn’t about me for once.”

I could be holding her in my arms by this time tomorrow.

“Will! Are you listening to me? This is about keeping Sam safe.”

I grunted, just enough to let Mick know I was listening.

“I can’t go sneaking around Geneses invisibly,” she said. “I don’t have the ability you have. If you leave us now, Sir Walter has no back–up. We need you here. Stopping Helmann is the only real way to keep Sam safe.”

I hated how well my sister knew me.

“The lives of many are at stake, my young friend.” Sir Walter’s words cut through all my plans and left them in shreds on the floor.

The room felt too small. I needed to get out and run.

Or hit something.

Or someone.

“I’m going running,” I said. My voice sounded angry. I didn’t apologize.

“Please,” said Sir Walter, grabbing my forearm, “Do not venture forth in solid form. You might be recognized.”

I shrugged my arm free. I
wanted
to find Pfeffer and let him know what I thought of how he’d lied to us for all those years. I wanted to run ‘til I collapsed from exhaustion. I wanted to stop seeing Sam’s smile in my head. I wanted to kiss her brown shoulders.

My sister spoke softly. “For her sake, Will. Please.”

“Fine,” I grunted.

I rippled and took off into the dark and cold of a February night in Rome.

Excerpted from the personal diary of Girard L’Inferne.

Circa 2003

As they reach young adulthood, I am pleased with the progress of my Corps of Angels. They will run into a burning building with only a wet handkerchief about their faces if they believe there to be a person inside who will otherwise perish. I have also observed them plunging into icy waters, into fetid waters, and into shark–infested waters to effect a rescue of another human being.

In other words, they are willing to subject themselves to dangers I am certain none of my original children would have faced in order to save anyone but themselves.

We continue to train them as subjects of the art of hypnosis, but honestly, they exceed my best hopes quite on their own. Our casualties are remarkably low, considering the peril into which they weekly, and gladly, throw themselves.

When the New Order has been established upon Earth, I shall certainly require training in this manner for all holding positions as civil servants—firemen, EMT’s, police, and so forth. It dovetails naturally with my plans that assignments for employment will be given shortly after post–birth evaluations. What shall we not accomplish, when all who serve the good of the world are trained from birth in their area of specialization?

Surely, if I were but an ordinary man, I would not sleep for joyful anticipation of what is to come!

HARVESTED

·
SAM
·

The next knock, when it came, made my heart beat a little faster, but I found my resolve as strong as ever. It was the nurse.

“I want to talk to Hans,” I said.

A look of mild displeasure crossed the nurse’s face. “I shall make certain that
Dr. Lieberman
is informed of your request.”

“You do that,” I muttered as he swept out of the room, blood–pressure cuff trailing.

I paced while I waited for Hans to show up. I needed a good run. My mind felt remarkably clear, and I tried rippling a couple more times, but I couldn’t.

My thoughts crept back around to Hans and what I would say to him.

How would he react to my decision? A chill of fear ran up my spine. I thought of his videotaped laughter with village children enjoying their first clean water, and I felt certain I’d be home in a few hours after a curt nod and brief handshake. Then I thought of his detachment as Helga had attempted to torture information from me, and I felt certain I’d never see home again.

A prayer, a part of the mass, echoed in my mind. I heard it spoken in the deep and earnest voice of a young man. Definitely not Hans’ voice.

“Christian?” I called aloud.

No response. He wasn’t near enough to hear me that way. What I needed was to call with my
mind
. I imagined throwing my thoughts far out.
Christian?

The door opened abruptly and I jumped up, back in the here–and–now, certain I’d only imagined hearing my friend’s voice.

“Well my dear,” began Hans, “I understand you wished to speak with me?”

I squared my shoulders, released my hands from the tightly–balled fists they had formed. “I won’t give you my eggs.” My voice held steady, for which I felt grateful.

Hans’ head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes remaining fixed upon mine. I thought I read a flicker of anger in those cold eyes. Without once looking away from me, Hans opened the door and uttered a quick phrase in German that I didn’t understand. At the words, a stranger entered the room, pushing a wheelchair before him.

I stepped back, alarmed.

Quicker than ought to have been possible, Hans grabbed both my arms, and the second man, who looked enough like Hans to be a brother, jabbed a puff–sprayer up my nose.

I couldn’t help but inhale whatever it was.

Sputtering, I cried out. “I demand that you take me home
now
!” As I spoke, I shot out my right knee with the hope of rendering Hans incapable of speech for several minutes. But my knee lifted with only a fraction of the speed and power I’d intended. I opened my mouth to shout, but had trouble making sounds come out. My tongue weighed a hundred pounds. Earth’s gravity increased tenfold and I collapsed into the wheelchair behind me. With great difficulty I kept my eyelids open enough to watch while restraints were placed upon my wrists and ankles. I felt the room spin. Or was it the backward motion of the chair?

Hans walked before me down the hall. I saw Mr. Expensive Running Shoes gaping at me.

“Help! Help me! Please!” I cried out, but the words as they escaped my lips sounded like meaningless drivel. The man with the Brooks avoided eye contact as I passed. I summoned all the energy I could muster to call out for someone to help me once again. But the words never left my mouth.
Please help me!
The plea echoed within the confines of my own mind.
Christian, I’m in San Francisco. Please … help …
My head fell forward.
Please …
I could no longer form words, even in my thoughts.

I felt myself lifted onto a table, felt a bright point of pain as someone inserted a needle into the top of one hand.

And then I felt nothing.

***

A single bright light.

The sensation of my eyelid being lifted by someone not myself.

Lord, have mercy.

The words echoed in my head.

Was I at midnight mass with my
abuelita
? I felt so sleepy. I snuggled into her fur coat as the priest spoke the words of the Christmas Eve mass.

Christ, have mercy.

The priest sounded so young. I tried to raise my eyes to see what he looked like. Was my
abuelita’s
priest young? But I was too tired. And my grandma’s coat felt so warm and snuggly. I buried my face in the dark of her mink.

Lord, have mercy.
I mumbled the words with the priest, with my
abuelita
.

***

Voices.

I heard someone speaking. Mass must have ended. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to remain sleeping on the pew.

“
Er ist da. Und zwar jetzt
!”

I knew the words. German words. They meant:
He’s here! Now!

Silence. Peace.

Then more words. In English.

“Greetings, Father.” (I knew that voice …)

“You were successful, then, in persuading her?” (A different voice, one that sounded remote, as if it came from a TV.)

“Ah.” (The voice of … who? I
knew
him …) “Here, you can just see our harvest … we were fortunate in our timing.”

“Don’t leave it there, fools!” (The TV voice was angry.) “Place it in the stasis chamber at once!”

The sound of several feet, all leaving me. Suddenly I felt alone and afraid. I wasn’t in the pew beside my
abuelita
. Where was I?

Don’t leave me alone!
My heart cried out to the silence.
Have Mercy.
I murmured the words of the mass. I wanted my
abuelita
back again. Where was I?

Samantha!
The voice spoke in the merest whisper.
I’m here. You’re safe.

I smiled. I whispered the familiar words of the mass with my grandmother.
And grant us salvation.
I relaxed again. My
abuelita
smiled, squeezed one of my praying hands with her own. Her hand felt so cold, so icy, but then I felt her arms about me and the embrace spread warmth to the core of my being.

Abruptly, a fog that had cloaked my mind lifted, and my brain functioned normally once more. My eyes darted up and down, looking for my body. It had vanished.

Sam, do you hear me?

I heard Christian’s voice, strong within my mind.

I’m right here. I’m awake. How did you wake me up?

You were under an ether of some kind. Now that you are insubstantial, it no longer affects your mind.

I had strange dreams,
I said.

I thank God that you’re alright, Mademoiselle Sam!

I looked around, searching for the voices I’d heard or imagined. I saw a computer screen with the face of Helmann upon it. His appearance matched what I’d seen on the Brave New World video—the one where he described the elimination of billions. This didn’t look like a video, though. It looked live; Helmann appeared to be waiting for someone with whom to speak.

Skype
, I thought. I heard voices down the hall as well, and Helmann looked up, alert for the reappearance of Hans or someone else. The thought of Helmann, out of my reach on some other part of the planet, sent anger pulsing through me.

All will be well, now, Mademoiselle,
said Christian
.

Bits of overheard conversations came back to me along with the memory of what had been done to me.

No!
I called out to Christian.
All will not be well. They’ve taken something from me. I want it back!

I felt motion as Christian pulled us away from the center of the room and into the wall. It was a smart move—our icy forms would be a dead giveaway to a chameleon like Hans.

Sam, we must return to safety,
said Christian.

Wait!
I cried.

A man approached our room and crossed to the computer screen to speak with Helmann.

“I want her unharmed, Fritz,” said Helmann. “Do I make myself clear? Hans has made enough mess of things today. God knows my instructions were simple enough.”

Fritz’s eyes darted nervously to where I’d been moments ago. Then he gasped and stood for a moment in silent shock as he spotted the operating table, now empty of me.

“What is it?” demanded Helmann.

“She is … she has … that is,” Fritz hesitated.

“Yes?”

Fritz took in a deep breath. “She has vanished.”

Both men were silent for several seconds. Then Fritz cleared his throat.

“Hans can easily bring her back, sir. We know where to find her, and we also know the location of all her living relations.”

“That’s hardly the point. Fritz, did I not warn you she would be a chameleon?” Helmann’s voice sounded infinitely patient, but with anger pulsing just beneath.

“Father, I assure you, precautions were taken. She received the Neuroplex injection before Hans brought her from her home.”

“Then the error must lie in
your new medication
.” Helmann’s tone was icy, accusatory.

“The Neuroplex has been thoroughly tested. I even used it on myself. The effects last for two days,” said Fritz. “Unless, perhaps, in coordination with the anesthesia …”

We must leave!
Christian sounded worried.

Not yet
, I replied.