Rise of the Transgenics (23 page)

It sounded like a plan. Carefully, Harry
descended the steps with Anastasia right behind him. The light
didn’t work and the space was dim. At the bottom, his eyesight
adjusted and he found a few old but serviceable chairs sitting in
front of a table. Sitting down, they rested their heads on the
table. Harry tried to keep the sleep out of his eyes, couldn’t, and
soon passed out, hoping for the best.

“Hey, get up,” a voice said.

Harry opened his eyes, blinked, and found
Anastasia staring at him, her eyes luminous in the dimness. “What
is it?” he asked.

“I just woke up,” she said and jerked her
head toward the steps. “I’m not sure what time it is, but I think
we should leave.”

Making their way up the steps into the living
room, they found Josephine sitting on the couch, her hands clasped
together in her lap. “I hope you slept well,” she said.

Harry nodded, stretched out his muscles, and
his shoulder, while sore, felt a little better than before. “It was
pretty good, ma’am.”

“It’s afternoon, almost five,” she said. “I
was listening to the news.”

“We should be going,” Anastasia began, and
her voice started to get emotional. “Thank you, Mrs. Hutch. We
appreciate what you’ve done for us.”

“I haven’t done anything,” she tut-tutted.
“All I did was to get you some dry clothes. If you enjoyed the
bread and tea, then that satisfies me.”

She sighed and fluttered her hands. “Right
now I’d give anything to see clearly, if only for a few minutes.”
Her mouth set in a straight line. “The police are everywhere. The
broadcasts said so. You’d better wait a little longer.”

Josephine got off the couch and turned in
Anastasia’s direction. “If your body is as furry as your face is,
young lady, then you’ll need to cover up. Go upstairs. It’s the
last room on your right. Search the big chest in the middle of the
room, third drawer from the bottom. You’ll find some slacks, long
sleeved shirts, and a few baseball caps. They belonged to my
husband. They might be a bit large for you, but the weather is cold
outside, so no one will notice. Go on.”

Anastasia took off like a shot and came back
later dressed up like a teen rocker. Long, baggy pants covered her
legs, an even longer shirt covered her torso and arms, and her hair
was tucked under an oversized baseball cap. With the exception of
her decidedly feline features, she could pass for anyone on the
street. “How do I look?” she asked Harry.

“Like you need a fashion makeover,” he
responded and yelled as she smacked him on the arm.

Josephine laughed, a rather merry sound
considering their circumstances. “Now, I’m going to give you some
keys. They’re to my husband’s car. I used to drive it, but...blind
people don’t drive. Take it.”

Getting to her feet, she shuffled over to a
small stand in the hallway, reached inside a drawer, and pulled a
set of keys from it. Hesitating, she stuck her hand in again and
pulled out some money. “You’ll need this,” she said, proffering the
bills to Harry.

Surprised by her generosity, he said, “Ma’am,
that’s too much. We can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she replied in a firm voice.
“Take it. You’ll need it. If you can’t use it, then give it away.
But right now you need it more than I do.”

“Why?” Anastasia asked. “Why are you doing
this?”

When Josephine looked up, her eyes were
bright and it was almost as if she could see. “I’m eighty-three
years old. My husband was a good man. He passed on three years ago,
and someday I’ll join him.”

“I’m sorry,” Anastasia said with a catch in
her voice.

“Don’t be,” Josephine responded with a
beatific smile. Her voice, clear and true, resounded over the room
and she held her head high and proud. “I’ve had a long life, I’ve
raised three children, held seven grandchildren in my arms, and if
this is my time to go, then there’s nothing I can do about it. If
you had wanted to kill me, young lady, you would have done so.”

With a quick and graceful movement of her
hands, she reached up to smooth back her hair. “I believe in
trusting people. You have to have trust sometimes. I trust people
to give me the right change when I go shopping, and I trust others
not to rob me when I’m walking alone. I trusted you before when you
said that you needed help. That’s why I didn’t bring my pistol with
me.”

A wise smile appeared on her face. “I put my
faith in those who seem good. I can’t see, but I hear very well,
thank you, and from the way you and your boyfriend talk, then I
know you can’t be bad.” She nodded her head twice as if to cement
her words in Anastasia’s head.

“Now, let’s all have another cup of tea. Dusk
is on its way, and that’ll help you.”

Anastasia embraced the old lady, and her purr
filled the room.

Josephine wiped a few tears away. “I hope you
find what you’re looking for, my dear.”

They left two hours later, just after
darkness had fallen. The night had turned chilly, and Anastasia ran
to the car first. She got into the front seat and hunkered down
behind the dashboard. Harry went out the front door, but before
leaving, he thanked Josephine again.

“No need to thank me,” she said. “Just be
careful.”

After the door closed, he went to the garage
and opened the door. A car, a Ford model perhaps ten years old, sat
inside. Searching the trunk, he found one spare tank of gas and
carefully poured it in. There was just enough to get them to a
nearby gas station. It was a risk to be seen in public, but he had
to take it.

Firing up the engine, he pulled out onto the
street and drove carefully to the nearest gas station. Anastasia
crouched further down in the front seat while a young attendant
filled up the tank and Harry handed over some of his recently
gifted funds. He’d pay Josephine back if and when he could.

Ready now, he drove off, and as he did so, a
warm feeling ran through him. So far, they’d been met with
suspicion and hatred. However, after meeting Josephine, his faith
in humanity had been restored somewhat. Not everyone was bad, there
were many good people out there, and he’d just been fortunate
enough to find them.

Anastasia snuggled up next to him and he
drove carefully, avoiding any places where he thought the police
might be waiting. The streets were covered with snow and he did his
best to avoid the slippery spots.

“Where are we going now?” Anastasia asked
after they’d cleared the neighborhood and found the entrance to the
highway.

Entering the fast lane, he kept his head
hunched down and stepped on the gas. The car shot forward. “To see
a man who knows how to get us to Russia.” With that, he steered
straight ahead, moving steadily down the road to find out what lay
ahead.

Their journey up to Mercy Hospital took roughly an
hour, and along the way, they tried to figure out what to do. “We
have to figure out a plan of attack,” Harry began.

“A plan of attack,” Anastasia repeated,
arching her eyebrows. “If you want a battle plan, try to avoid
getting killed by John Q. Public, avoiding the terror twins, and
getting this done.”

She hunched over in the seat, covering her
face as much as possible with the hood. Had anyone in another car
looked in, they would have seen only the hood, Harry felt.

On his end, he drove carefully, kept his
speed down and didn’t dare cut off anyone. Police cars were all
over the highway with their sirens wailing. More than once, he felt
his heart jump when a cruiser passed him by. Anastasia hunkered
down in her seat, shoulders hunched and hoodie up and covering her
ears.

Up ahead, he saw a line of cars and heard
people yelling, “I didn’t do anything, officer!” along with “Police
brutality” “Fascism!” and worse. A roadblock stood in their way of
freedom with police officers checking everything and everyone.

Panic seized him, and for a brief moment, he
had thoughts of flooring it and trying to escape. Reason prevailed,
as there was a line of cars in front of him, very little room to
maneuver, and at least fifty armed and very dangerous cops were on
patrol. He knew that they’d shoot to kill.

“Pull your vehicle over!” a cop yelled
through a bullhorn and waved his arm in their direction.

Now or never, Harry thought, and slid his car
into an empty spot. As the police officers approached, his heart
rate jumped into the red zone. If they were discovered, forget
about making it to the hospital—any hospital—alive.

Memories of both lynch mobs remained fresh in
his mind. Anastasia remained in a bent over position. Rolling down
the window, he asked, “What’s the trouble, officer?” and fought to
keep his fear under control.

“Those things have been spotted around here,”
the cop answered, snorting his disdain. “If we catch them, there’ll
be no need for a trial.”

Yeah, lynch mob, Harry thought. “You’d kill
them?”

“Wouldn’t you?” The cop bent over to scan the
interior of the car. “What’s wrong with your passenger?”

“Uh, my girlfriend has diabetes,” Harry
answered, thinking fast. “She needs insulin, so I’m taking her to
the hospital.”

A dubious expression crossed the police
officer’s face, but then his walkie-talkie crackled. “Yeah, what is
it?” he rattled into the receiver, still staring at Anastasia.

He listened intently, and a second later rang
off. His face lit up like a hunter on safari about to take down an
especially rare and dangerous animal. “We got a tip from some old
lady. Seems two of those things were seen heading in the opposite
direction. You drive safely.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry answered politely.
Thank
you, too, Josephine.

Getting underway once more after clearing the
roadblock, he turned on the radio. “And we have a special report
coming in,” the announcer stated in a voice designed to send
tremors of panic into the most laid-back person. “Rumors of cat
people and a rhino-type monster have been confirmed by residents of
the Bowery and downtown Manhattan. According to eyewitnesses, they
are working together, and the police have issued a warning for
citizens to stay in their homes and lock the doors.”

“Good thing he didn’t mention my name,” said
Harry, trying to find a little humor in the situation.

“Additional reports state that the ringleader
is Harry Goldman, a teenager who is said to be extremely
intelligent as well as violent. These four individuals are
considered to be extremely dangerous and are to be avoided until
the police can arrest them.”

Anastasia chuckled softly from her bent over
position. “You spoke too soon. So now you’re the ringleader,” she
said. “I always wanted to be public enemy number one.”

“Hey, I need my fifteen minutes,” he cracked
back, although he knew the situation had gotten out of hand. So
far, he’d been accused of being a mass murderer and a ringleader.
What was next, a master of the world scenario? He wouldn’t have put
it past any amateur psychologist or psychiatrist to lay down some
assessment and convince everyone he was insane.

His attention returned to Earth as the radio
report switched to an announcement by the Chief of Police, Brian
Matthews, the man they’d seen on the news broadcast earlier on.
“These four individuals have committed the most atrocious murders,”
he stated in a somber voice. “We want to emphasize that the
citizens of New York should
not
take the law into their own
hands.”

“Good luck with that,” Anastasia commented,
and the irony rang clearly in her voice.

The report continued with the Chief ordering
ordinary citizens to stay safe and stay aware. “These four
individuals are homicidal maniacs, and after consulting with the
other division commanders, I have given my men the order of shoot
to kill...”

Okay, now he could add homicidal maniac to
the list. Harry turned off the radio, shaking his head and worried
about the possibility of an ambush somewhere down the line. “Well,
that’s just great,” he murmured and gave his girlfriend a quick
glance. “You can get out and hide in the countryside if you
want.”

Anastasia smacked his arm gently. “The only
place I’m going is to the hospital, with you,” she reminded him.
“We’re together in this. Now drive.”

Upon reaching the turnoff, he made a right
and they took the off-ramp that would take them as far as the
hospital. “So what’s the plan?” he repeated, trying to consider all
the angles and coming up empty on every one of them. “They’ll have
guards there,” he said. “Farrell said this hospital was tied to the
FBI, so that means security will be double what it usually is.”

Anastasia’s frown combined with scrunched
eyebrows meant that she was thinking of something.

“What is it?” he asked.

Voice full of rancor she answered, “You’d
think he’d be on our side, but no. You heard what the radio
announcer said. You heard what the Chief of Police said.”

Harry had been turning over that idea in his
mind for a long time. “I think Farrell
is
on our side.
Merton told me before the other two transgenics killed him that
this was a secret project. It was supposed to be just you, me,
Farrell and him in on it. Merton’s dead, and so is everyone else
who might have known. That means we can’t rely on anyone else, only
Farrell.”

“So why didn’t he say anything earlier on?”
she asked with a note of doubt in her voice.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know, just
that...maybe he got injured worse than we thought and he couldn’t
call off his dogs in time. He was in bad shape when we dropped him
off at the hospital. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

“We’re screwed, no matter what,” Anastasia
muttered. She finally put forth the million-dollar question. “How
will we get in, then?”