Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA (23 page)

The last thing Bryn wanted to do was watch Dundee terrorize the guards. Nicola obviously didn’t want to witness it, either, because she turned her back and moved closer to where Bryn was standing, her lower lip trembling. Bryn fought off the urge to reach out with some kind of comforting word or gesture, not because she was confused about her feelings, but because she didn’t know whether Nicola deserved her sympathy.

“Did it work?” Nicola asked.

It took Bryn a second to realize she was asking about whether the nanoneuron activation back at her father’s facility had distracted his men enough for Bryn and the others to get away.

“Yes.”

“How’s my dad?”

“He’s okay.”

At Nicola’s tremulous smile, Bryn had a sudden flash of memory: her mother, lying in her hospital bed, stroking Bryn’s hair with a painfully thin hand.

“I’ll always be with you, Brynnie,” she’d said. Then she’d offered that exact same curve of the lips.

Bryn felt the sharp sting of tears and turned away so Nicola wouldn’t see. The thin man came into her frame of view. He was gazing intently at the ground, but briefly glanced up at her face.

“Bryn Vega,” he said. “Failed social experiment.”

“What?” She glared at him, but he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. There was something not quite right about the guy.

“You could’ve had them eating out of your hand,” he said.

It was easier to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about, but whoever this man was, he clearly knew about her father’s and Fournier’s plan to make her the ‘xenofreak poster child.’

Then out of the blue, Nicola said, “Padme says you know my mother.”

“Your…
mother
?” Bryn stared at her, appalled.

“She doesn’t mean her donor,” the thin man said.

“Donor?” Bryn repeated. The word came out as the barest whisper.

“The woman who donated her cells so I could be cloned from them,” Nicola said. “Padme told me she died, but the woman who carried me is still alive and that you know her.”

Bryn’s brain still refused to comprehend. “Padme told you this.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When she told you about your, um, donor, did she mention my relationship to her?”

Nicola shook her head. “No, she just said you knew Mouse.”

Bryn took a sharp intake of breath, but anything else Nicola was planning to say was drowned out by the guard, who cried out in pain and then yelled, “I don’t
know
! He gave us the license number and a description of the car. Told us it was stuck in the Holland Tunnel and that we should bring the fat man and his friend here.”

“Who told you?” Dundee growled. Whatever he was doing to encourage an answer brought another cry of pain from the guard.

“
I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know
…” the guard sobbed.

“That’s enough,” Shasta said. “Whoever’s behind this would have stayed anonymous. The question is: how did that person know the congressman was in the Holland Tunnel?”

“Abbott made a call to his office,” Unger said. “Told them where he was.”

“And you made one to me. Our phones are secure. I assume the congressman’s are, as well.”

“I’m not suggesting security’s been breached. Not from the outside anyway. Abbott suspected someone in his office was leaking information – that’s why he didn’t want to get on the flight. He was afraid Singh knew he was cooperating with us.”

From the outer chamber came a sudden series of bright flashes accompanied by what sounded like greatly-amplified fire crackers going off.
Bang! Bang! Bang!

Shasta winced and stuck a finger in her ear. “They’re here.”

Moments later, Jason and Lo appeared in the doorway. Lo kept a lookout while Jason entered the room, carrying a black pack with wheels. He glanced around, frowned at Dundee and said, “Hello, ma’am…sir,” to Shasta and Unger.

“Over here,” Unger said.

Between Jason, Unger and the thin man, they managed to get Abbott loaded onto the portable stretcher. By then the outer chamber had been completely abandoned. Their escape was much easier than Bryn had anticipated. No one impeded their progress, and they made it safely to the UAAV.

They loaded the unconscious congressman into the UAAV, and once Shasta and Unger got on board, Lo drove to the center of the field, while the rest of them walked. Bryn recognized the bonfire they’d occupied earlier and was almost surprised to see Fournier and Padme still sitting there with Mia. Even more surprising was the sight of Carla standing nearby, holding hands with a large, bearded man in an orange coverall.

Nicola broke away from the group to run to her father. Carla saw Bryn, grinned widely, and waved. Bryn was glad to see she was okay, but at the same time, was terribly conflicted. Had Carla really given birth to Nicola?

Carla must have correctly interpreted the look on her face, because she glanced at Nicola and her grin faded, to be replaced by a rueful frown. When Bryn reached her, she said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Your mother asked me to.”

For the second time that day, Bryn was so shocked all she could do was stare. Then as Carla’s meaning sank in, tears flooded her eyes. “You mean Mom
wanted
it..?”

Carla put a hand on her arm. “She believed in him.”

Bryn looked over at Fournier. He and Nicola were having what looked like a touching reunion.

“Mom needed a new heart, but she would never agree to killing a clone to save her own life.”

“Honey,” Carla said softly, “your mom knew she was dying when she agreed to it. The company that paid for the first pig heart refused to pay for a second one after it failed and she knew a human donor wouldn’t be found in time. Her clone was never going to be sacrificed.”

“That’s not what Dad told me. If that wasn’t the plan, then why clone her at all?”

“Your mom’s heart…she had
genetic
Dilated Cardiomyopathy. It’s hereditary.”

Bryn blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“He promised her he would try to cure it. For you.”

Bryn put a hand to her chest. “You mean I have it, too?”

“No, no, but your children might.”

“How could he cure it by cloning her?”

“I don’t know exactly. Something about disabling the genes that caused it.” Carla dipped her head and sighed. “There’s something else. Nicola had a twin. I gave birth to two of them.”

“Oh, my God.
May
…Scott’s adopted sister.”

This time it was Carla’s turn to look shocked. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. Seriously. It’s the reason Scott joined the XIA. May died because Fournier made mistakes in the cloning process. It devastated his parents.”

Carla shook her head sadly. “I always wondered what happened to her. Did you tell your dad about Nicola?”

Bryn shook her head. When Fournier had been trapped in the tunnel and thought he was going to die, he’d given her a message that she’d never delivered. “Tell your father,” he’d said, “Nicola is not for him. I made her for me. But she was never Miranda.” It was why she’d believed her father when he told her Fournier had been in love with her mother.

She looked over just in time to catch Fournier’s eye. He was watching her as if he knew what she and Carla were discussing. Why hadn’t he told her any of this? He’d had plenty of opportunity. She didn’t understand the man at all, but didn’t for a minute think she’d misjudged him. He was a monster pure and simple – which didn’t make him incapable of doing seemingly selfless things.

The man standing next to Carla must not have been paying attention to their conversation, because he shoved a hand out as if they hadn’t been discussing such an intense subject. “I’m Bluto.”

Bryn tore her gaze away from Fournier.

“Nice to meet you.” She took his hand absently because she’d noticed Mia coming towards her – and she looked terrible. Bryn excused herself and went to take her arm. Instead of shaking her off, Mia leaned on her.

“You okay?” Bryn asked.

“Just dizzy.”

Carla appeared on her other side. “Why are you wearing a mask? Are you a carrier?”

“No. I’m not a xeno…or…I
am
a xeno, but—but–” she broke off with an exasperated exhale.

Carla pulled something from her pocket and held it up. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Bryn flashed Carla a grateful smile and split the protein bar with Mia. While they scarfed it down, Shasta jumped out of the UAAV and stood by the open door. She seemed to be sucking in great gulps of the cold night air. Her battered face was expressionless, but Bryn suspected something was wrong.

She left Mia’s side and walked over. “What is it?”

Shasta sighed. “The congressman is dead.”

With the constant stream of information coming through the earbug, Scott followed the events leading up to the rescue of Shasta and the others. When he heard of Congressman Abbott’s passing, he went to the back of the bus to talk to Lo in private.

“Lo,” he said. “You get any of what’s going on here?”

“Sorry, no. Busy. What’s up?”

“I’ve got good news and bad,” he said.

“Bad news first.”

“Singh’s flipping out about being on the pier. Says we have less than two hours before we all die.”

“Really. Die how?”

“Wouldn’t say.”

“Okay. The good news?”

“He’s got a croc graft.”

After a brief silence, Lo burst out laughing. “Are you serious?” Then she said, “No offense,” and Boardman said, “None taken.”

“
Philip Singh
has a crocodile graft?” Alton asked. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah,” Scott replied. “Plain as day.”

He heard Alton repeat the news to someone else and then heard Shasta in the background. “Why does that matter?”

Scott caught bits and pieces of the conversation that followed; the gist of which was that no one had told her what Fournier had said about the carriers. He caught Bryn’s voice, “Ask him. He’s right there.”

Several minutes later, he heard, “Agent Harding?” It was Shasta loud and clear; she must have gotten an earbug.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Bring Singh to me.
Now
.”

“On my way.”

He thought Maddy would protest when he told her they were leaving, but she looked around at the watchful guardsmen and said, “Yes, I think we’ve worn out our welcome.”

Maddy’s four soldiers escorted them down the ramp and through the detainees milling about in the tunnel. When Singh saw the barrier the army had constructed to keep the detainees on the pier, he lunged towards it, shouting, “Help me! I don’t belong here!”

Maddy’s men restrained him as he fought to get away. He began ranting and raving, spitting out obscenities and threats, and her men were forced to drag him along. Finally, as they were about to enter the corridor leading to the field, he appealed to Maddy directly, face apoplectic.

“If you don’t listen to me,
we’re all going to die
!”

“Yes, father, we know. Would you care to be more specific..?”

That shuttered look appeared again, but when Maddy turned to walk away, he shouted, “They’re going to blow up the pier!”

Scott flashed on the divers, and with deep dread in his heart knew Singh was telling the truth.

“Lo, you get that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, jeez,” Alton said. “The divers.”

Scott heard him explain what they’d seen to Shasta. She barked, “Agent Harding, I want you to bring Singh to me
now
!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Scott pointed the barrel of the submachine gun at Singh and told Maddy’s soldiers, “Carry him.”

They glanced at her for confirmation before lifting the struggling man by his arms and legs. Just like the last time they’d entered the corridor, they began to collect a crowd of detainees in their wake.

“What did he mean, ‘They’re going to blow up the pier?’” one of them shouted.

Like a flash fire, the news spread. This time, before the detainees could mob him, Scott pointed the submachine gun to the ceiling and fired a quick burst. Those closest to him scattered, and it bought Scott and the others enough time to get out onto the field. Unfortunately, they were surrounded again within thirty seconds.

“Lo? I could really use some of your magic right about now.”

For the second time that night, Lo employed the short-range acoustic device, forcing the crowd back and allowing Scott and the others to get to the UAAV. Shasta grimly took custody of Philip Singh and slammed the door. The crowd lingered, but at a distance, grumbling.

Scott stayed outside with Alton to guard those gathered around the bonfire, but his earbug allowed him to hear everything going on inside. He leaned against the door as a strange kind of detachment came over him. His mind sifted through the events of the last few days, gaze drifting from face to face.

Fournier looked like hell, but he’d perked up some, probably because Nicola was with him. He’d said she needed a transplant, but she looked fine. He wondered if Nicola had the same kidney cancer that had killed his little sister. The doctors hadn’t discovered May’s cancer early enough to attempt a xeno transplant, but if Nicola had the same thing, why didn’t Fournier do so? He thought back over the conversation in the bus. Fournier had said, “It’s not a baby.” What else could it possibly be?

He shifted his gaze to Maddy, seemingly in her element as she dealt with whatever issues her people brought her – and yet a veil of sorrow lay over her features. She’d not only lost Dillo, her best friend and protector, but her father had substantiated every bad thing she’d ever thought about him, and then some.

Carla was standing next to a prisoner Scott had never seen, but who reminded him of the wooden sign outside of Bluto’s, the cut-out cartoon character with the full black beard that had greeted him the first time he’d gone there with Padme.

Padme herself was sitting alone staring into the dying fire, and if he didn’t know better, he could swear she’d been crying.

Bryn was standing with Mia and Carla, but she turned and caught his eye. He gestured her over, and she nodded. He’d wanted to speak with her alone, but Mia and Carla came with her, along with the big bearded man. Somewhat to his irritation, Maddy wandered over, too. When he saw Fournier getting to his feet with the help of Dundee and Nicola, he sighed.

“Is it true?” Carla crossed her arms. “Is the army really going to blow up the pier?”

Before Scott could reply, Maddy said, “My father certainly seems to think so.”

“Why would they do that?” Mia asked.

“To get rid of us once and for all,” Carla said.

Mia shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. The government doesn’t just wipe people out because they’re inconvenient.”

“Tell that to the native Americans.” Fournier spoke from several feet away, attracting the attention of the detainees lingering on the fringe.

“This is hardly the same set of circumstances. There would be nothing to gain from it.”

“On the contrary.” Fournier had joined them, but he didn’t lower his voice. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that Philip Singh just happened to know what the army planned to do?”

“The
army
is not going to blow up the pier!” Mia was getting agitated.

“Undoubtedly, the
entire
army is unaware of what a small faction is planning. If it were me, I’d go after the pylons supporting the structure. Everyone knows they’re unstable. It’ll be one of history’s biggest tragedies, a horrible accident, like the Hindenburg or Titanic.”

Scott glanced at Alton. Fournier was putting into words exactly what they’d suspected. They needed to shut him up, though, because the last thing they wanted was for him to give the already unsettled crowd the provocation it needed to spiral into complete anarchy.

In his ear, he heard Shasta tell Singh if he didn’t want to die with the rest of them he’d have to call off whoever it was that had ordered the destruction of the pier.

Singh laughed bitterly. “If he knew I was here, he’d probably blow it up that much faster.”

“That’s what happens when you blackmail people into doing your dirty work for you,” Unger said. “Who is it? Colonel Carter? Lo, get him on the com.”

“Um…I can’t seem to get a signal anymore.”

Singh’s voice was full of despair. “No witnesses. No survivors.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Unger snapped.

“It means,” Lo said, “that the cell towers are down. We can’t call for help. No one can.”