“Duke?” Ponytail said. He placed the inoculator kit on the coffee table next to the recorder and retrieved the pistol from under his suit coat. “Duke, are you okay?”
No answer from the bedroom.
Ponytail edged toward the doorway, pointing his pistol at Romy’s head. “I don’t know what kind of shit’s going down here, but if anything untoward happens, you go first.”
The first thought that ran though Patrick’s mind was,Untoward ? Did he really sayuntoward ?
Ponytail reached the doorway. He peeked around the molding and suddenly cried out, reeling back as Duke’s limp body came flying out of the room to crash against him. He grunted as he tumbled to the floor, his pistol discharging and sending a bullet over Romy’s head to punch a fist-size chunk of plaster out of the wall above one of the windows.
He didn’t get a chance for a second shot because Duke’s body wasn’t the only thing flying through the doorway. Something else followed directly behind—a snarling, barrel-chested apparition in a sleeveless black coverall, its furry, black-eyed head split open to reveal yellow teeth and a pair of huge fangs in the upper jaw. But even more frightening was the scarlet coloring that blazed along its upper snout as it flew through the air, long arms outstretched, fingers curved into claws.
Ponytail let out a panicked bleat at the sight of it, and Patrick caught an odd light in the man’s eyes; shock and terror, yes, but something else: recognition.
He tried to bring his pistol around but it was knocked from his grasp and sent skittering across the floor.
He wailed, “Kree—!” but whatever he intended to say was choked off as long fingers wrapped around his throat and squeezed.
Patrick was just registering that they might be in worse trouble now than a moment ago, when Romy started talking to the thing.
“Kek! Don’t kill him, Kek! We need him alive!”
“Youknow this thing?”
She didn’t respond but stayed focused on the creature that continued to throttle Ponytail. The man’s mouth worked spasmodically as his eyes bulged and his face purpled.
“Kek! Let go! Let go now!”
Finally her words seemed to get through to the thing. It released its stranglehold and leaped up, but it didn’t stay still, didn’t seem able to. It wandered back and forth, growling, flailing at the air, as if working off a rage. On the floor, Ponytail coughed and retched, sucking in air, but it was purely reflexive. He was out cold.
As for Duke, he wasn’t breathing at all. And the unnatural angle of his head on his shoulders made it clear that he would never breathe again.
Nipple-twisting bastard, Patrick thought. Good riddance.
“Good, Kek,” Romy was saying in a soothing voice. “You did good, very good. Zero will be so proud of you.”
That seemed to calm the beast. It stopped its agitated pacing and cocked its head as its dark eyes peered at Romy from beneath a prominent brow. The crimson coloring atop its snout was fading. Still staring at Romy it made a chirping sound.
Patrick didn’t know what to think. It looked like some bizarre sort of gorilla, but nothing like Patrick had ever seen in any zoo he’d visited. More like a mutant sim who’d overdosed on steroids. The creature seemed to be on their side, but just barely. Patrick had never sensed so much aggression packed into a single being.
“Whatis that thing, Romy?” he whispered.
“Just be calm,” she said, nodding and smiling at the creature. “He’s been told you’re on our side but he doesn’t know you, so he’s not sure of you. Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves.”
He glanced down at his duct-taped legs and arms. “As if I have a choice.”
“I’m about to remedy that.” She looked at the creature. “Kek, you’ve got to cut me free,” she said softly, as if talking to a child. “So I can call Zero. Use your knife to cut me free.”
Kek unsnapped a safety strap from a scabbard attached to the belt around its waist—Patrick hadn’t noticed the belt till now—and whipped out one of those huge, saw-toothed Special Forces knives.
Patrick’s gut clenched. “Oh, Christ! Someone gave that thing a knife?”
“Quiet!” Romy hissed. “Kek’s a ‘he,’ and you owe him.”
“I know, but—”
“I’m not talking about tonight. Now be quiet and I’ll explain later.” She turned back to Kek and dipped her head toward the tape around her right arm. “Could you cut that, Kek? I can’t call Zero and tell him what a good job you did until you cut that tape.”
Kek loped over and Patrick gasped as the creature raised the knife and, in a move so casual in manner yet so blindingly fast in execution, slashed the duct tape with a single thrust. He expected blood to gush from Romy’s wrist, but only the tape parted, leaving her without a scratch.
“Good job!” she said as she wriggled that arm free and began the laborious task of unwinding the tape trapping her left wrist.
“Ask him if you can borrow his knife,” Patrick said. “To speed things up.” Being trapped in this chair was making him claustrophobic.
She gave him a rueful smile. “I wouldn’t advise you or anyone else to try to take Kek’s knife away from him. Even if you say, ‘Pretty please.’”
She freed her left and, then began to work on her legs. As she did, Kek retreated to a corner where he squatted and watched.
When she was finally free she rose and walked away.
“Hey!” Patrick said. “What about me?”
She stepped through an alcove and Patrick heard the rattle of cutlery from within. A moment later she emerged holding a wicked looking carving knife.
“Ginsu,” she said. “Cuts through tin cans.”
“But will it cut duct tape?”
“We’ll see.”
It did, of course, and seconds later Patrick was free. He started to rise, then sat back down. He looked at the two men on the floor, one dead, the other halfway there, then at the creature squatting against the wall, watching them, and felt weak, as if someone had pulled a drainage plug from his ankle and all his energy had run out.
“What’s going on, Romy? What have we got ourselves into?”
“Life!” she said, turning, bending at the waist, and leaning toward him. “Don’t you feel alive, more alive than you’ve ever felt in your life?” She held the Ginsu blade before her face. “This is it! This is the cutting edge! This is where your vote is counted! This is where you make a difference!”
She’s high, he thought. Stoked on adrenaline. And me? A total wreck.
“You’re very scary right now,” he told her.
“Am I?” She straightened. “Sorry. That was someone else talking.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” She pointed to the unconscious man. “Can you believe it? We’ve finally got one of them!”
“One of who?”
“They’re from Manassas, or whoever’s behind Manassas. And the people behind Manassas are behind SimGen. This blows the lid off, breaks everything wide open. We’re finally going to get some answers.”
“What if he doesn’t want to talk?”
“Oh, he’ll talk.” She turned and lifted the inoculator from the kit on the coffee table. “Do unto others what they were about to do to you, right?”
Patrick stared at the amber liquid in the vial. They’d been about to inject some of that into Romy and him.
“You think that’s the truth drug we heard about? The one they found in the dead globulin farmers?”