Going Grey (26 page)

"They don't know you around here, do they?" Rob asked.

"No," Ian said. "How could they?"

Mike's voice interrupted in his earpiece. "Right behind you, Rob."

Now that the initial shock had worn off, Rob's brain was clogging with what-ifs and questions that he really wanted to ask Ian. Suddenly he felt sorry for the poor little sod. How was he ever going to have a normal life? Kinnery deserved a serious kicking. Rob liked the idea of giving it to him. He drove north, checking that Mike was still following.

"I really shocked you, didn't I?" Ian said at last. "Gran was right."

Rob wondered whether to ask what he meant, but thought better of it. "Yeah," he said. "Great party trick, though."

When Rob had set out that morning, he'd thought that finding Ian Dunlop would be the end of the job, and then he and Mike would get on with their plans and forget him. But it wasn't going to be quite that simple.

They'd found a shape-shifter, a real live one. All bets were off.

SIX

Stop crying, Ian. It's just a graze. Look at the TV — look at this guy climbing a mountain. See him? He's a soldier. He hasn't got any legs. A bomb blew him up. He has to use metal ones now, but he still climbs mountains and runs races. He didn't cry, and I bet it hurt him a lot more than a grazed knee.

Maggie Dunlop, to seven-year-ol
d Ian, on taking it like a man.

DUNLOP RANCH, ATHEL RIDGE
JULY.

The real world had come crashing in on Ian with a force he'd never imagined.

He sat in the living room, blinds drawn, ashamed of himself for not fighting back. Rob was talking with Mike in the hall. Ian caught snatches of the conversation, which seemed to be about not telling someone until they knew more.

"You're going to have to call the crew, at least." That was Rob. His accent was deceptively soft for a scary guy. "But I need to see it again."

Mike sounded New England, very upper class, with something else in the mix. "Look, I saw it too. You think this is the power of suggestion? Mass hysteria? We're not medieval peasants."

"I don't think your dad knows what he's let himself in for."

Ah, his dad. Who was Mike's father? Was he Kinnery's son? Was Kinnery trying to clear up the mess he'd made?

They stopped talking and came back into the living room. Mike leaned against the door frame while Rob sat on the sofa. For a moment, Ian thought Rob was staring him out, but then it dawned on him that Rob was waiting to see him morph again.

I can see it on his face. Now he thinks
he's
crazy. He doesn't believe what he saw. He's as scared as I was.

And that's how everyone's going to look at me.

"Sorry about the rough stuff, mate," Rob said at last. "Are you all right?"

"A bit bruised."

Mike joined in the staring. "I take it you don't drive in traffic often."

"No," Ian said. "Only in emergencies."

"Never mind. It took balls to try."

Ian was worried that he might piss his pants and look like an idiot. These guys weren't like Joe or Kinnery. He'd never had close physical contact with another man before, let alone been knocked flat by someone who was so strong that it hurt. Rob and Mike were another species, muscular and intimidating, and Ian wasn't prepared for how that made him feel; scared, envious, and aggressive, but somehow relieved. They made some awful sense of the world.

"You don't know what to do with me, do you?" Ian said. "Who's your dad? Is it Kinnery?"

"God, no." Mike shook his head. "My father's a politician."

"Forget Kinnery. He can't touch you now." Rob studied Ian's face. "We need to get you out of here. Thanks to Zoe what's-her-face blabbing it all over the Internet."

"Gran said it was my insurance."

"Well, it got us here, so maybe she was right."

Mike's brow creased a little. "We're sorry about your gran. You must miss her."

"She wasn't my gran. Not biologically."

"Does that matter?"

"She lied to me. Everyone lies to me. How do I know you're not lying too?" 
I'm not mad, Gran. Why did you let me think I was? Didn't you realise it'd end like this anyway?
  "I thought I was crazy. But I'm not, am I?"

Mike shook his head. "No, you're not, buddy. It's real. I can understand why you're angry."

"Yeah, we get lied to all the time, so we're not going to lie to you," Rob said. He didn't blink much. "Nobody except nutters believes a word that web site says, but the company that worked on your project probably does. You can either wait here for them to track you down, or come with us. We're your safest bet."

Ian thought it sounded like he had a choice. It was confusing. He had good reason to be scared of these guys, but they also seemed to be trying hard to put him at ease. Mike looked around the room, then stepped back to check up and down the hall.

"There's not a single mirror or reflective surface in this place," he said. "Except the windows."

Ian wondered why he'd spotted that. "Gran tried to make sure I didn't have to see my reflection. Why did you notice?"

"Because we're soldiers. When we clear a building, we check for reflections that could get us killed. Ours or the enemy's."

Soldiers had rules. They had
discipline
. Ian had seen it in the movies. Mike and Rob could have shot him and nobody would have known or cared – well, maybe Joe would have – but they were talking like they were taking him seriously. They'd be just like his great-grandfather, decent guys with a sense of honour who cared about their buddies.

But he wasn't my great-grandfather, either.

Mike lined up his cell phone and took a photo. "There. If you change again, I've got another picture to compare you with. You can't control this, can you?"

"I don't know how." Ian felt like a child again, helpless and pathetic. He wanted Gran to be here. "If I did, I'd stop it."

"Well, now that you know what it is, maybe you can learn."

It was the first encouraging thing anyone had said about his morphing. Mike squatted next to his chair and looked him in the eye.

"I'm giving you my word, Ian." He had intense blue eyes, lighter than Rob's. He seemed really earnest. "I won't let anyone take you or do anything to you against your will. I guarantee that. You don't have to come with us, but if you do, you can stay with me and my wife while we work out how to fix things. You can bring your dog if you like."

Rob made a quick huffing sound as if he didn't approve. "You going to ask her first?"

"I don't recall you standing around debating when I was in the shit, buddy," Mike said. "There's nowhere else I'm willing to take him. I'm responsible for his safety now."

The two of them stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Ian wasn't sure if it was a stand-off or some silent question between them. He considered his choices. If he said no, what was he going to do? He'd be stranded here, waiting for someone else to track him down and knock on the door, someone who probably wouldn't be so concerned about his welfare. And he couldn't get away from Mike and Rob anyway. They wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

I have to trust somebody. I can't hide forever.

"If I come with you," Ian said, "can I bring some of my stuff? Not that I'm saying I will."

"Sure." Mike stood up and studied the CDs, tapes, and DVDs lined up on the bookshelves. He stepped over a couple of boxes. "You look like you're moving out anyway."

"Gran wanted me to burn all her stuff."

Mike carried on looking at the DVDs. "So you watch a lot of movies.  Let's see. War movies. Explorers. Biopics. No horror. No alien invasions. What's your favourite?"

"
Ice Cold In Alex,
" Ian said. He couldn't think straight now that Mike had asked. "
Scott of the Antarctic.
"

"All stiff upper lip drama, huh?" Mike slid out another plastic case and handed it to Rob, who gazed wistfully at it. "
The Cruel Sea."

"Now
that
was a great film," Rob said. "You like military stuff, then."

"I wanted to join the Army. Fat chance."

Mike picked up the photo of David Dunlop. "Who's this gentleman with the Huey?"

"I thought he was my great-grandfather. Gran's dad."

"Well, blood relative or not, he certainly shaped your life, didn't he?" Mike folded the stand flat against the back of the photo and handed it to Ian as if he expected him to start packing. "We'll show you our pictures. Rob's got some awesome stuff. He was a Royal Marine. I started in the National Guard. We've just come back from Nazani."

For the first time in his life, Ian was having a conversation about morphing, a real, honest
conversation
. It seemed incredibly important. It made it real. And that made all the terrible, uncomfortable things that ate at him somehow reasonable. He wasn't wrong to feel betrayed, scared, or angry. He just needed to find his way out of this tailspin.

"So are you going to come with us? We won't force you." Mike went to the window and tweaked the slats of the blinds apart with his thumb and forefinger. "Where are all your animals?"

Ian's gut was still telling him to run and hide, but another part of him wanted to fit in with these guys and be accepted by them.

"Joe's taking care of them for me. Can I tell him where I'm going?"

"He doesn't know that you change, does he?"

"No. And he won't
recognise me now. I'll have to phone him."

"A cap and a pair of sunglasses works wonders."

"I know." Ian had come down from the terrifying adrenaline high and now he felt shaky. He realised he'd slipped from
maybe
to
definite
. "How much stuff can I bring?"

"As much as you can get in the car."

"Where are we going?"

"Maine," Mike said.

"That'll take days."

Rob laughed. "Welcome to Zombie's world, son. He's got a his own private jet."

Ian couldn't tell if Rob was joking. Now that he had some time to think about leaving, not just snatching the grab bag in the hall and running for his life – and that hadn't worked out, had it? – he wasn't sure what mattered to him. He had to collect all cash he'd stashed around the place, though. He'd need that.

Mike wandered in and out of the kitchen, looking at the walls as if he was thinking of buying the place. "Can I use your cell, please? It's unregistered, isn't it? I need to get a message to my pilot. If I use my own phone, there'll be a record that links me to this location."

Ian nodded and pointed at the counter. "Sure. I'll start packing." Damn, he'd need to collect the cash in the tool locker, too. "I need to get something from the barn first."

Rob stood up. "Come on, then. I hope you're not going to make a run for it."

"I promised," Ian said. "So I won't."

Rob waited at the barn door while Ian unlocked the tool cabinet and slipped the rolls of notes inside his shirt. There was David Dunlop's old woodworking chisel, too. He couldn't leave that any more than he could leave the photo. He carried it out by the blade, just in case Rob thought he was going to stab him with it.

"Great-Granddad's," he said. "Well, whoever he was."

"Do you always keep your savings in the barn?"

"In case the ranch burns down. Or I have to get away fast."

"You'd be right at home in Essex."

Ian didn't know what that meant. Rob took a small packet of cookies out of his pocket and offered it to him as they walked back to the house.

"I've got a son about your age," Rob said. "He's at university. Lots of friends, likes a beer or two, plays football, dates girls. You should be doing all that. Not hiding."

Ian shrugged. That stuff was theoretical, things that he knew existed but didn't think were possible for him, like luxury yachts or being an astronaut. Dating girls was still the most distant prospect of all and the most depressing.

"What am I going to say to Joe?"

"I can make the call for you."

"He'll want to hear it from me, or he'll think you're social services coming to take me away."

Rob chuckled. "Yeah, people always mistake me for a social worker. Look, tell him some friends of your gran's old mate got in touch and you're going to stay with them for a while until you've sorted yourself out. It's almost completely true."

"Which bit isn't?"

"I wouldn't call Kinnery a friend."

"But he knows you're here, yeah?"

"He asked Mike's dad for help to hide you, so we agreed to pick you up." Rob held his hand out for the chisel and examined it. "I'm surprised you're willing to trust us. You were ready to punch the shit out of me earlier. Don't trust everybody, though, will you?"

Ian didn't like the thought of a politician being involved. Gran said they were as bad as any government agency and most of them were corrupt assholes on the take, but he didn't have any choice.

"Well, if you're CIA or something, and I try to get away, you'll shoot me, or worse," Ian said. "But if you're telling the truth, and I don't come with you, then I've lost a chance to be rescued. So going with you makes sense either way."

Rob laughed. "Good logic, son. You'll go far."

"But we're going now, aren't we? Tonight?"

"Ready when you are. We don't want to hang around either."

"Has Mike really got a jet?"

"Absolutely. It's his dad's. They're minted. I mean
megabucks
rich." Rob handed the chisel back to Ian. Maybe that was a test of trust. "Mike's a top bloke. A bit mad, straight as a die, and he'd give you the shirt off his back. Which in his case is a really good deal. Five hundred bucks a pop."

Ian still wasn't sure if he believed a word of that. But if gut instinct was worth anything, he felt safer with these two guys than anywhere else right now. They made him feel that things were somehow okay, and that if they weren't, they'd step in and fix them.