Universal Alien (11 page)

This did not compute. “Jack Johnson? He of the slow and boring?”

“You all think he's cool.” Caroline sounded ready to cry. “He's the nicest guy—he's your friend, Kitty. I count him as my friend because of you. How can you be insulting his music all of a sudden?”

Wow. Not only was everything else messed up, I suddenly liked a musical artist I found to be stultifyingly dull. It was like I was in Bizarro World.

I froze, my jeans halfway on. “Oh. Wow. That's it.”

“What's it?” Aunt Carla asked.

Didn't answer and finished getting dressed instead, though I took the Jack Johnson shirt back into the ginormous walk-in closet and hung it back up in the rock T-shirts section. Chose a Mötley Crüe shirt—had a feeling I was going to need double rocking support today.

Put on the hoodie and looked around for my purse. Remembered that it wasn't my purse and it was downstairs somewhere. Maybe still in the car. Couldn't recall. Decided not to care, since the likelihood that it contained a Glock was slim. Still, one never knew.

“Where do I keep my Glock?”

“In your purse,” Caroline answered. “Though I don't know that you've ever fired it except at the shooting range.”

Interesting. Apparently the wealthy had some serious security issues. Then again, I'd been run off the road with clear intent to kill, so those concerns seemed less like paranoia and more like brilliant planning. And, hey, I had a Glock. Chose to look at this as really good news.

Also chose to look out the bedroom window. In time to see a dark sedan with an impressive pushbar in front and blacked out windows driving slowly up the street.

“Um, Caro? Aunt Carla? Tell me . . . do we happen to have a safe room in this house?”

“Y
ES,”
Aunt Carla answered promptly. “Angela insisted that you have a safe room here and in Australia.”

More proof Mom had been in covert and clandestine ops before she was killed. Murdered, more likely. Felt rage growing. Good. I was going to need it.

“Super. Where, exactly, is the safe room? And how many can it hold?”

“Downstairs, at the back of the house,” Caroline replied. “And it can hold at least twenty people. It's stocked to support those people for at least a week. And it also has full medical supplies.”

“And weapons,” Aunt Carla added. “Because, if you're in a safe room . . .”

“Yeah, you're not there for the thrill of playing hide and seek. But this is great news. By the way, the nausea will pass.”

“Huh?” Caroline said, as I grabbed her and Aunt Carla. Contemplated grabbing Jamie, but I only had two hands and no idea if either woman would follow orders from me, ever, let alone right now. I'd come back for Jamie—those downstairs would be the first targets. Besides, I had to find the room anyway.

Took off at hyperspeed. Zoomed downstairs and ran around for a second or two, then realized I had no idea where the room was and safe rooms were supposed to be disguised, so I had no chance of guessing where it was with the limited time I had. Stopped in front of Chuckie and Reader. They both jumped as if we'd appeared out of nowhere, which, considering how hyperspeed worked, we had.

“The safe room! We need everyone in it—right now! Don't question, just go!” I shoved Aunt Carla and Caroline at them, then ran back upstairs. Grabbed Jamie, realized I hadn't seen the boys downstairs, and went to their room. Sure enough, they were in there.

Grabbed Max and threw him on my back, while I took Charlie's hand in my free one. “It's just like in Rock Creek, kids. Hang on, no strangling me, Max. Charlie, lead me to the safe room. You steer, I'll handle the speed.”

Had to hand it to these kids—they didn't question. Max held on, Charlie nodded, Jamie squeezed my hand, and we took off. Charlie led me to the room the adults were thankfully heading for. We got there first, but the others were right behind us. Naturally there was a combination. Stopped and put the kids down. The running had been short, so while the kids and women were gagging, no one was tossing their cookies.

Ran back to find Chuckie starting to head upstairs, to grab the kids no doubt. Grabbed him and ran him back to the room. “Get it open,” I told him, “get everyone in, then get your guns. We're about to be attacked.”

He opened his mouth, and I put my hand up. “I did all this at something called hyperspeed. I'll explain it later. Just get in the damn room. If I'm crazy, super, it's a fun family excursion right before Mommy goes to the Special Hospital for a Little Vacation. If, however, I'm not—and I guarantee that James can tell you that I wasn't making it up about those freaking machine guns—then the assassins are on our street. Move it!”

Spun around and ran back to the living room. Sure enough, the purse was on the sofa. I dumped it out and, joy and rapture, a Glock.23 dropped out. Grabbed it and ran back to the safe room. Chuckie had just gotten it opened. Hyperspeed was a great thing.

Contemplated the options. Sure, they weren't the Reader and Chuckie I knew, but they were still clearly Reader and Chuckie. Meaning some things would be the same, including who was likely to be the most adaptable and shift into teaming with me the fastest. Plus, I had the children to consider.

Grabbed Reader and shoved Chuckie inside. “Take care of everyone and if I sound totally scared, sweet, or clueless, or James doesn't give you the right password or whatever you two use, then assume we're hostages and come out with guns blazing. Otherwise, we'll let you know when it's over.”

With that, I slammed the door. Sure enough, it locked.

Took Reader's hand and ran upstairs, to the same window where I'd spotted the car in the first place. It was just parking across the street. Hyperspeed remained the best superpower ever.

“See that car?” I asked as he gagged. “That's the car that drove us off the road. And it was filled with assassins with machine guns. I have one Glock and, as far as I saw, a single clip. I have no idea what firepower you and Chuckie possess. But I have something else that I'm now convinced this world does not have.”

“Kitty, I realize something's off, and I can agree that this looks highly suspicious, but—”

“Bizarro World.”

“Wait, what?”

“Bizarro World. I've switched places with the Kitty in this universe. Should we survive this attack, I'll tell you all about it, at least, what I can remember. However, survival is not a given. But, what these assassins don't know, or know how to counter, is the fact that I have hyperspeed, increased strength, and superfast healing.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm Wolverine with Boobs, James. In the world I come from. Because, I think I may have mentioned, I'm married to an alien and there was mother-and-child feedback and all that jazz I'm living to tell you later. You need to back me up. I'm going to take these bastards out before they kill anyone, especially anyone in this house. By the way, should I kill them or incapacitate them? If given the option, I mean?”

He stared at me. “Incapacitate,” he said, sounding shaken. “But if you have to kill them, we can take care of it. You're really not our Kitty, are you?”

“No. Welcome to the New Reality. I'm really hoping that your Kitty and I don't have to die in our respective Bizarro Worlds in order to get home, but the way my luck runs, I don't count on it. Where do you want to be—up here or downstairs?” I had my guess, but it never paid to assume.

“Here. Our weapons are stored in my room.”

“I knew it!” I went to take off the safety off on my gun—sometimes I was prepared. Only . . . “What the hell? Is this gun defective?”

“No, why?”

“Where the hell is the safety?”

He stared at me. “Glocks don't have safeties. Well, not external safeties. It's one of their best features.”

“The hell they don't. Dude, I've used Glocks for the past, like, five years, and every one of them has had a safety.”

“Well, girlfriend, in
this
universe, Glocks don't have safeties.”

“Wow. No safeties on the Glocks and no aliens. Can't wait to find out what else you're lacking.”

Reader managed to shoot me the cover boy smile. “Let's survive this attack and then we can compare universal notes.”

“Works for me.” With that, I took off.

Hyperspeed was such that it couldn't be caught on video or film, so the human eye didn't stand a chance. I normally needed to be enraged in order to get my skills working well, but not only had Christopher and I been working on this for ages, but I'd been on edge all day and thinking about my mother being dead had started my anger revving already. It was nothing to flip over to rage—I'd been holding that emotion back for hours.

Didn't have time to find out how many entry doors this place had—I needed to ensure that the assassins weren't able to set up or surround us. Zipped out the front door so fast I was pretty darned sure no one could have spotted it. No one started shooting, so I took that to mean I was going so fast I couldn't be seen by anyone other than an A-C, and apparently they were in extremely short supply here.

Of course, if there were no A-Cs, and therefore no A-C technology, and my Glock was different, that meant that other things were potentially different as well. However, as with most of the events of the past few years, I was going to have to find out what was going on and adapt on the go.

So, you know, routine.

“A
IR . . . KITTY . . . NEED AIR,”
Mom said.

I released my hold a little but didn't stop hugging her. “Sorry, Mom. I just . . .” Couldn't stop crying. Decided to blame hitting my head and changing universes or whatever. Saw Martini out of the corner of my eye—he looked freaked out and upset.

Mom hugged me back. “What's going on, kitten?” she asked me softly. “Whatever you did with the Prime Minister can be fixed, I promise.”

Crawford cleared his throat. “Ah, Angela? It's all a long story, but the fastest explanation is this—this isn't ‘your' Kitty. She's from an alternate universe and has, as far as we can guess, changed places with the Kitty we know and love. Not that we won't learn to love this one, I'm sure,” he added quickly.

Mom grabbed my upper arms and moved me back so she could examine me. Just the way she'd acted any time I didn't want to tell her about something bad that had happened when I was younger.

She nodded. “Looks like Kitty, but with a much better dye job than you usually manage for yourself.”

“It's highlights, Mom. And I didn't start doing this until . . .” My throat closed up and wouldn't let me say the next words.

Her expression softened. “Ah. I'm dead in your world, aren't I?”

Felt the entire room stiffen. Looked at Martini again—he'd already known, I could tell. His whole empath thing must have clued him in the moment I saw Mom. Felt bad for him—if what he'd said was true, then my emotions were undoubtedly affecting him and, from how he looked, they were affecting him negatively.

I nodded. “For the past two and a half years.” Forced myself to pull it together. “So, I have no idea what's going on here, but from the number of people in suits in this room, it's a lot.”

“Yes, it is.” Mom removed herself from my grasp, spun around, and went to the door. “Secret Service are to remain on duty outside. That's an order.” Then she shut the door and came back to me.

“Uh, why are you giving the Secret Service orders, Mom? In fact, why are they even here?”

“I'm the head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit, or the P.T.C.U. It's clandestine, and all forms of covert and clandestine ops report into us, some directly, some dotted line. And I take it by your expression that you had no idea I did this kind of work until right now.”

“Right. Uh, do you think you did it in my world?”

“Am I married to your father, Solomon Katt?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then I did. I was in Mossad when we met.”

“But you're neither Jewish nor Israeli.”

“No. I'm just special, kitten. Like you are.”

“You're also married to the Vice President, remember?” Crawford asked. “Hence the Secret Service outside.”

“Oh. Right. You know, someone was trying to run me and my children off the road in, uh, my universe.” The panic about the kids that I'd managed to ignore for a few minutes resurfaced.

Martini winced. “Baby, please, stop . . .”

Was about to tell him to stop calling me baby when the full ramifications of what was going on hit me. “Oh. Crap. I have to pretend to be your wife, don't I?”

“Please and thank you,” Crawford said. “Angela, I know why you kept the Secret Service details outside, but we may have to take them into our confidence.”

“Absolutely not.” Mom looked around the room. “Good, we only have Centaurion Division personnel here. I want no one other than those in this room to know that anything has happened beyond Kitty hitting her head, hard, and getting a concussion. Memory loss and confusion are a natural outcome of that. We can brief her on everything else.”

“Raj needs to know,” Serene said. “And Pierre will guess. Mister Joel Oliver might, too.”

Mom shrugged. “Raj, I agree. If Pierre or Oliver guess, then we can choose if we tell them or not. But otherwise, no one else. Too many know what's going on right now.”

“I don't know what's going on. And, more to the point, I have no idea what's going on with my children.”

“Your kids are safe,” James said with conviction.

“How would you know?”

“If Tim is right, and it's the only explanation that actually makes sense, then you and our Kitty switched right when you were being attacked, right?”

I nodded.

“Then she was put into your place in order to do exactly what I and everyone else here knows she did—she handled it and she and your kids are all safe.”

“You have no way of guaranteeing that. Why would she be more likely to be able to keep from being run off the road than I would?”

Christopher walked over to me and picked me up. With one hand. Easily. “We're aliens. From another planet. Compared to humans, we're stronger, faster, and have accelerated healing. Due to a drug that some of us were . . . given . . . a few of us have mutated.” He put me down. “Jeff is one of those people—he's the strongest empath in the universe, most likely. He's also stronger and faster than the average A-C. I am, too. Jamie's birth affected our Kitty and gave her most of our powers.”

“So she's faster and stronger than you are,” James said. “And she's been trained to handle these kinds of situations for the past five years.”

“And I've worked with her on her powers for the past three years,” Christopher added. “She can handle whatever is being thrown at her in your world.”

“Especially if there are actually no aliens in your world,” Charles added. “Because if there aren't, then she's probably the most powerful person on Earth right now.”

“I shudder to contemplate that,” Christopher muttered.

The Silver Fox came over and gave me a warm smile. “I'm Richard White, Christopher's father. I'm also Jeffrey's uncle, and Paul Gower's.” He indicated the big, black, bald guy. Who happened to be standing close to James. Got the distinct impression they were a couple. “Paul is our current Supreme Pontifex, meaning our religious leader. I used to be, however, I retired when Jamie was born. Katherine and I also partner up when it comes to butt-kicking, as you like to put it. She is more than capable of protecting your children as she would her own.”

Took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. So, why did we switch places? As in, why not have her just show up, save the day, and come home?”

“We have no idea,” Richard said. “This is, to our knowledge, the first ‘switch' that's happened.”

“Lucky me.”

“Truly. Could you tell us what your life is like where you come from?”

“Uh, sure, I'll aim for high-level. Charles and I have been married for eight years, we're wealthy—he made his money in convenience stores and then more of it in the stock market.”

Martini nodded at Charles. “That's the same, then.”

“We live half the year in Australia and half the year in D.C. We're normally not in the States right now, but Charles' third career is being part of a think tank, and they needed him back.” Everyone I could see looked like they didn't believe this. Decided to forge on. “I homeschool our children. James is the top male model in the world, and Charles manages his career. My father is a history professor, though he's been on sabbatical since . . . Mom died.”

“What are the odds?” Martini asked Charles.

Who looked at Mom. “High. Angela, would you have recruited me into the C.I.A. if Kitty and I had gotten married when we went to Vegas together that time?”

“Yes, and for the same reasons—you were too intelligent and looking into too many things the government needed to keep hidden. I'd have recruited you faster, because you were absolutely on a watch list until you came inside.”

“How did you and Reynolds meet me?” James asked.

“We went on a worldwide honeymoon. We met you in Paris. You were horrified that we hadn't had a real church wedding, so you arranged one for us. You were our best man. You're our best friend. Why are you calling him Reynolds? You call him Chuck, you're one of the only ones who's allowed to.”

“We didn't meet in that way in this world,” James said gently. “So I'd have known you almost as long as you've been married. Angela?”

She nodded. “I'd have recruited you, too, I'm sure. Your being a fashion model would be a great cover and allow you to go everywhere. Charles being your manager screams ‘cover story' to me, too.”

“Are all of our friends in Australia in the C.I.A., too? Or are they all just in ASIS?”

“Not sure,” Mom said. “They could be in Australia's Secret Intelligence Service. What do they do?”

“Well, the freaking Prime Minister and his wife run the damn country, but the rest of our friends there are doctors and lawyers and government workers and such.” The entire room drew in their breath. Ignored them. “We've known most of our circle since we hit Australia. We discovered I was pregnant with Charlie when we were in Australia and everyone was so great to us, and they loved that Charles was brilliant, so we just sort of . . . stayed.”

“So,” Richard said carefully, “you're intimate friends with Australia's Prime Minister?”

“Yes, as I said. We met through their eldest daughter and they sort of took us under their wings. Are you going to tell me that he's a space alien or a spy?”

“No, not at all. However, I believe that you may be here to save our day as well.” Richard looked around. “We're all thinking the same thing, yes?” All heads nodded.

“Kitty,” Charles said, “our Kitty, just insulted the Prime Minister in a really huge way. International incident kind of way.”

“What in the world could she have done? Tony's like the coolest guy in the world.” Well, that depended on which party you belonged to and which socioeconomic level you lived in. Dad, Charles, and I all felt that Tony was a true politician, with all the negatives that came along with that career choice, but the Costellos had been wonderful friends to us, and ultimately, that mattered more.

“She did this.” Charles made the V for Victory sign, only he had his palm turned in.

“Oh my God. She did
not
!”

“Half of us have no idea why you and Raj freaked out about that, by the way,” James said.

“James, seriously, are you high? She flipped him off in Australian!” I turned to Richard. “What did Tony do?”

“Before or after Jeffrey accidentally spilled coffee all over him and his wife? Or before or after you threw your entire cup of coffee at and on him?”

“Both happened because Kitty was falling,” Martini said quickly. “But, yeah.”

“So, let me get this straight. The wife of the Vice President, in other words, me, flipped off the Australian Prime Minister and tossed her coffee at him, then her husband, the Vice President, threw coffee onto the Prime Couple?” Everyone nodded. “God, I hope their kids weren't around, too.”

“No, they were spared.” Richard seemed to find this funny.

“So not amused. So I insulted my friends? Fantastic.”

“No,” Charles said. “Our Kitty, who has never met these people prior to these past couple of days, insulted them. You, however, can hopefully help us figure out how to fix this situation, which has basically made one of our closest political allies incredibly angry.”

“Well, most of the Australian people probably think this is fab, since they, like the people here, live to pick on their leaders.”

“This happened at a cricket match,” Charles added.

“Who won? Was it our team playing?”

Everyone looked at each other. “More than anything else she's said,” Martini said, “this convinces me that Tim's theory is correct.”

“He's not a popular politician,” Mom said, sort of hopefully.

“Name one who is,” Charles countered.

Martini shrugged. “To Chuck's point, I'm not popular, and neither is Vince. And we had an amazing come-from-behind victory, which would make you
think
we were popular, only you'd be wrong. Vincent Armstrong, our current President,” he said to me.

“Whatever you say. So, really, back to the cricket match. Who was playing? Who won?”

“That needs to stop,” Crawford said. “Look we need to brief her on what she does and doesn't like. And we need to do it fast.”

“And then we need to get things fixed with Australia,” a new voice said. Spun around to see an incredibly handsome guy who was probably from India via the aliens in some way. “Because the Prime Minister is mad enough that he's making noises about sending all their A-Cs back to the U.S., and that's not good for anyone.”