The Face of a Rogue Page 18

  Ms. Givenzy turned toward the short hallway leading to the back of the house. “Right this way.” She stopped at the first door and quietly entered the room.

  A stainless-steel crib rested under the room’s only window. A young girl sat in a rocking chair, reading social media posts from friends and strangers on her cell. She looked up when the Changers entered.

  “Tracy, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine,” Ms. Givenzy said, smiling.

  The girl stood and placed her cell on the chair.

  “I’m Mr. Aldrich,” Levi said, extending his hand. He turned to the others. “Dr. Rasmus, Mr. Logan, Mr. Dyer and Ms. DeMone.”

  “Tracy has just turned eighteen,” Ms. Givenzy said. “She’s been our babysitter since we brought our precious angel home.”

  “Bystander?” Johnny asked.

  Xander flashed a sideways glace at Johnny. “Of course.”

  “It’s nice to meet you all,” Tracy said and turned to the baby’s mother. “Ms. Givenzy, I really need to be going. I’m late for dinner right now.”

  Ms. Givenzy placed a hand on her cheek. “Oh, dear. I was hoping you would have time to feed the baby once more before you leave. You see I have guests.”

  “Well…” Tracy said.

  Angelica checked the time on her cell. “Where do you live, Tracy?” she asked, not looking up.

  “Oh, it’s about five miles from here. The other side of town.”

  Angelica looked Tracy in the eye. “We’ll take you home. Why don’t you go ahead and feed the baby again.”

  Tracy looked into the crib. The baby was lying on his back. He caught Tracy’s eye and produced a four-tooth smile.

  “See?” Ms. Givenzy said, smiling again. “He’s looking forward to it.”

  “Well, okay,” Tracy said. “I’ll get a bot—”

  “I have one right here.” Ms. Givenzy pulled a bottle from her apron pocket and held it out to Tracy.

  The babysitter took the bottle and walked over to the crib. She held the bottle under her chin and bent over to pick up the baby. The little guy reached his arms toward the girl and wrapped them around her neck.

  “Goodness,” Tracy said. “You really are hungry.” She grasped the baby under his arms and attempted to pull him away to reposition him for feeding. She glanced at Ms. Givenzy as the boy clung to her neck. “Goodness, he’s suddenly so strong.”

  Levi and Johnny smiled while the others watched, expressionless.

  The baby tightened his grip.

  Tracy turned to Ms. Givenzy again. “Can you help, please? He’s choking me.”

  Ms. Givenzy remained still, smiling.

  Tracy moved quickly to the boy’s mother. “Help, please,” she said, bumping into Ms. Givenzy.

  The boy squeezed Tracy’s neck and drew his head back.

  “Please!” Tracy screamed.

  The baby slammed his face into Tracy’s, locking his mouth around her lips. Her screams became muffled. She flailed her arms, beating the baby on the back.

  Curtis lunged toward the girl.

  Johnny grabbed the back of Curtis’s collar on his sport coat. “Hold up there, buddy.”

  Curtis’s feet went out from under him as Johnny pulled him back and stood him up.

  Levi glanced at Curtis and frowned. “Back off, Dyer.”

  Tracy hurried over to Ms. Givenzy again and slammed the baby into his mother.

  The baby’s grip continued to tighten as his tiny fingernails dug into the skin on Tracy’s neck. She turned and ran toward the other side of the room, slamming the baby into the wall. Tears streamed down her face. Blood seeped out between her cheeks and the cheeks of the creature stuck to her face. As her knees weakened, she fell to the floor, face first. Her skin became soft and withered as life-extending enzymes transferred from her body to the humanlike vessel beneath her.

  Curtis dove to the floor and vomited—mostly into a nearby trash can—before he lost consciousness.

  Johnny glanced at Curtis and chuckled.

  The tiny monster released its grip on its victim and wriggled out from under the carcass. He sat up, smiled and reached his arms up to Ms. Givenzy.

  The mother picked up her son and turned to Xander. “Doctor?” she said, holding the baby at arm’s length.

  Xander turned to Levi. “Leader, would you like to absorb the nutrients from the child? I assure you, it won’t harm him.”

  Levi waved him off. “No thank you. I have had a recent absorption. Perhaps Ms. DeMone?”

  “I’m good,” Angelica said.

  Johnny smiled and raised his hand. “I’ll do it.”

  The six Punks had stationed themselves around 225. Winter stood poised with her back to the east exterior wall, her head turned toward the street. Silver stood beside her.

  Fred and Thomas squatted on the west side. Fred faced the street, Thomas the fenceless backyard.

  “No windows on this side of the house,” Thomas said. “What are we supposed to monitor here?”

  “You know, partner. We have to adapt to the Punks’ way. Let them take the lead. Right now, we’re advising them. Our time is coming. I can feel it.”

  Krystal crouched and pressed her face against the window at the back of the house. “Curtains,” she whispered. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “You don’t have to see anything. Do you hear that?” Ryker asked.

  “Yes. It sounds horrific.”

  “What the hell are they doing here?”

  Krystal shook her head slowly. “Clueless Bystanders never should have let the Changers back inside the Wall.” Her eyes narrowed. “You never know when Levi and Logan are involved.”

  Ryker stood and brushed off his jeans. “We gotta do something.”

  “No.” Krystal grabbed Ryker’s forearm. “Not now.”

  Ryker yanked his arm away. “It’s not the Punks’ way to let something like this go!”

  Krystal looked into Ryker’s eyes. “I know, Ryk. We’re on the same side. Intervention now is the wrong time.”

  Ryker’s ire burned his gut. “Right.” He paced. “Right.”

  Winter whispered into her shoulder mic. “Front door’s opening, guys.”

  Fred and Thomas scrambled to their feet and hurried to the back of the house.

  “Caught Winter’s message,” Fred said. “Figured we’d come back here. She’s got a gun and we don’t.”

  “Yeah,” Krystal said. “We gotta get you guys out on the range. You should be armed like the rest of us.”

  “Join me here, everyone,” Winter whispered. “They’re moving to the sidewalk on the west side of the house.”

  Krystal motioned to the others as she spoke into her two-way. “On our way, Win.”

  Winter remained pressed against the house with her hand in the air. Krystal and the others hurried to the east side.

  Ryker moved to the front of the line next to Winter. “Here,” he whispered. He pulled a small shotgun mic from his belt and handed it to her. “I got it synced to our two-ways.” He turned to the others and tapped his ear, signaling them to listen.

  Winter held the mic next to the corner of the house and pointed it at the Changers strolling down the walkway toward the curb.

  The audio was crystal clear.

  “Damn, that was nice,” Johnny said. He rubbed his hands on his chest. “I feel great.”

  The well-dressed man smoothed his lapels. “As well you should, Mr. Logan. The SOUL Chybrid specimen performed the extraction of the donor’s telomerase flawlessly. But it is the ability to retain and store the enzyme and the associated nanobots for redistribution to you that is the true wonder of this technology.”

  Levi clapped his hands three times. “Excellent, Doctor. Most excellent.” He turned to the young blond man, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “And how are you feeling after your little episode?”

  The blond man’s smile was weak. “I feel fine. So doe
s this mean we don’t actually have to absorb a person firsthand? The Chybrid babies will provide the means to extend our lives?”

  “The SOUL Chybrid is the extraction, storage and delivery system, son,” Levi said. “As the doctor said, there must always be a donor. In this case, Ms. Givenzy’s babysitter was the donor.”

  The blond man frowned. “But the babysitter wasn’t a donor.” He checked himself. “Well, I mean, she was a donor. But certainly not willing.”

  The professional-looking woman touched Levi’s arm. “May I, sir?”

  “By all means. Our newest addition is still learning.”

  She turned to the blond man. “You need to get something solidified in your mind. We are Changers. We epitomize technology. Dare I say, we are technology. For technology to thrive, there must exist willing participants. The Bystanders have allowed the Changers into their city, into their lives. They are more concerned with their lust for our technology than for their own lives. Honestly, none of them actually believes they will become a victim to absorption. But their complacency, their apathy, makes them all victims. We give them technology—free of charge, mind you—and they give us their lives.” She shrugged. “The exchange is a given, and we don’t feel guilty about it.”

  Levi held up his hand. “I see our taxi approaching.” He turned to Johnny. “I trust you have summoned transportation for yourself and our new addition?”

  Johnny straightened his stance. “Yes I have, Leader.”

  “Splendid,” Levi said. “I am entrusting you with my latest protege.” He looked at the young blond man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Logan is one of our best. He will introduce you to some of our Bystander contacts within the city.” He couldn’t suppress his smile. “Now that we once again own Tremayne.” He turned back to Johnny. “Do you have a game plan?”

  “Yes, I do, Leader,” Johnny said. “We’re going to start at one end of the city and sweep through to the other. I think we’ll begin in Old Town and work our way back to City Hall.”

  “Wonderful plan,” Levi said. “Be sure to make introductions to our associates at the Bystanders’ homeless shelter.”

  “It’s in the game plan, Leader.”

  Chapter 29

  Mama’s Boy

  The big Punk driver in Cat One glanced at his cell on the dash: Incoming Call 4-6-25. He looked at his partner. “What the fuck kind of number is that?”

  His partner looked at the cell and shrugged. “It’s your mama, dude. How would I know?”

  “I’m gonna kick your ass when we’re done here. Answer the damn thing.”

  The Punk riding shotgun swiped the device from its mount. He jabbed the answer icon with a calloused thumb and held the cell to his ear. “Mama, is that you?”

  The driver backhanded his partner on the temple, dislodging his navy bandanna.

  “Hey!” The shotgun Punk dropped the cell in his lap and adjusted his bandanna. “What the heck, man. It’s your mama!”

  “See who it is, dipshit,” the driver said.

  “All right, man.” The passenger turned his attention to the call. “Yeah, hello?”

  The driver’s hair whipped wildly into his face. He scraped it back and glanced at his partner. “Well?”

  The passenger held up a hand and poked a finger into his free ear. “You’re kidding, right? Like, the cat?”

  The big Punk’s impatience overwhelmed him. “C’mon, man! Who is it?”

  “Okay, yeah. Sure, dude. Fuck off, okay?” The shotgun Punk ended the call and shoved the cell back into the dash mount.

  “Well, that was quick,” the driver said. “So?”

  Shotgun Punk grabbed a handle above him and turned in his seat. “Some dude. Said his name is Felix.” He smiled. “I asked him, ‘like the cat?’”

  “Probably a wrong number.” The driver gazed intently through the windshield. “We gotta be close, dude. That outpost is about three miles up the road.”

  The radio crackled. “Cat Two. You there, Cat One?”

  “Go ahead, sissy pants.”

  “Yeah, mama’s boy. We’re gettin’ close.”

  “What’s with everyone talkin’ about my mama all of a sudden? You’re on my list now, pansy.”

  “Please, you’re scaring me, poopsie. We’re gettin’ close to the outpost.”

  “No shit. Good thing we got you on our side.”

  The big Punk’s cell lit up again. Incoming DION. He whipped the phone from the dash mount. “Dion. What’s up, boss?”

  “You guys get a call from a guy named Felix?”

  “Yeah, boss. I didn’t take the call—”

  “Sounds like maybe you blew him off.”

  “You bet, boss. You know we’re on a mission. We’re comin’ up on the outpost.” He glanced at the shotgun Punk and grinned. “It’s time to rescue Lace and beat some Raymond butt.”

  “Yeah, well, Felix is a friend of mine. He’s got some valuable information. You guys passed Lace about a half mile back.”

  The big Punk felt his ears burn. He smashed the brake pedal to the floor and whipped the steering wheel to the left with one hand.

  The shotgun Punk smacked a hand into the dash and grabbed the door sill with the other. “Woo-hoo!”

  The armored vehicle slid sideways on the narrow asphalt through the clearing fog. The driver expertly spun the steering wheel back to the right and floored the accelerator. The rear tires spun furiously on the paved surface as the Punk spoke into the phone. “Headed back, boss. How the hell does this Felix dude know where Lace is?”

  The two-way popped again. “Holy hellfire, Cat One! You got this country Punk all fired up with that move! We right on yer tail again!”

  “Cat Two. What the fuck, One? Was that you just passed us by?”

  “Git with the program, Cat Two. We headin’ back!”

  The remaining vehicles whipped their U-turns in identical fashion to Cat One. The six trucks increased their speed.

  The Cat One driver was still on the phone with Dion. “I don’t know how you know where Lace is, boss. We’re driving blind here.”

  “All right,” Dion said. “I’m patching Felix through to you. Stand by. Then do what he says.”

  “You got it, boss.” The driver placed the call on speaker and handed his cell to the shotgun Punk.

  “Hello? This is Felix again.”

  “We hear you, Felix. Guide us, man.”

  “I am tracking all six of your vehicles via satellite. Each vehicle is represented by a tiny light on my map. I also have pinpointed the female, Lace. You are close to her. But you will pass her up again if you don’t slow down now.”

  The Punk lifted his boot from the accelerator. “Got it, man. Tell me where she is.”

  “She is walking slowly, approximately 400 meters ahead to the north.”

  The driver looked across the cab at the shotgun Punk. They both shrugged.

  “That would be on your right,” Felix said. “Approximately 100 meters off the road.”

  Visibility had increased to about a quarter of a mile. The driver pointed ahead to his right. “There she is.” He veered off the road into the mud and accelerated. The other five trucks followed.

  “Nice find, Cat One,” Vee One said.

  “She’s running away, dude,” shotgun Punk said to the driver.

  The big Punk easily caught up to Lace and pulled in front of her. The other vehicles split formation at Vee Three and surrounded Lace.

  “Splendid,” Felix said. “Now, the man who killed your companion at the outpost is headed toward Tremayne. He is off the paved road as well.”

  “Thanks, Felix,” the driver said. “Can we get back to you after we handle Lace?”

  “By all means,” Felix said. “Goodbye.”

  The call ended.

  Raymond reclined in the driver’s seat of Slade’s Humvee as the vehicle slogged through the muddy terrain toward Tremayne. He bobbed
his head to a tune known only to him. Fuck trying to find Lace, man, he thought. I’m heading to town, joining up with the Changers. He chuckled to himself. They’re gonna love me.

  He spotted the Perimeter Wall through the thinning fog. No fuckin’ wall is keeping me out. He took his foot off the accelerator pedal, pressed the brake and coasted to a stop. He sat for several minutes staring at the Wall before twisting the key to the off position. Tunnels, he thought, opening the driver’s door.

  The former Punk stepped out of the Humvee and stretched, hands in the air. He relaxed, placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the Wall. Quarter mile or so back was the last entrance I know. Gotta be another tunnel hatch around here somewhere. He checked his pockets. Knife, knuckles. He walked through the mud toward the Wall. Looks fuckin’ big from this side.

  The white paint on the thirty-foot-high structure was sun-faded and dirty from decades of neglect. But the foundation was deep and the construction solid. Raymond shuffled up to the Wall and placed his palm against the concrete. He shook off old familiar feelings—feelings of belonging, of being a respected family member. His stomach turned as he placed his other hand on the cold hard surface.

  He looked up to the top of the Wall. I been there. He squinted at the bright white sky as tears pooled in his eyes. He shook his head, then stared at his dirty hands on the dirty wall. And the tears streamed down his face. Tears? he thought. He stood upright and punched his cheeks. BAM. BAM. BAM. He shook his head again and stepped back from the Wall.

  Raymond walked parallel to the huge barrier toward Tremayne, keeping his eyes trained on the rocks, the trash, the debris scattered against the Wall. He knew the Punks camouflaged the tunnel entrances well. Thirty yards in front of him, he spotted three discarded lawn chairs next to a flattened, overturned burn barrel. And he smiled. A Punk knows Punks. Raymond, you dog. You’re gonna be a valuable commodity to the Changers.

  When he reached the burn barrel he bent down, grabbed the edge and hoisted it to the side. He flung the old lawn chairs, one at a time, behind him. Uh-huh. Just as I thought. He reached down, grasped the exposed T-handle and turned it. The hatch popped upward.

  Raymond smiled again.