EXODUS

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 9
I, Feline
 

Days turned into weeks and the weeks passed into interminably slow months that none of the prisoners really paid attention to. Life was a blurred existence of pain, wretched conditions and bodies and faces that were no longer their own. While the changes wrought to the collection of prisoners known as Group 1 occurred at nearly a daily pace, the discomfort of the most drastic portion of their physiological alterations had nearly all of them wondering if the torment would ever end. The most trying time for the prisoners was while bones softened and reformed, twisted into completely new configurations, or disappeared altogether. Wyatt wasn’t the only one to wonder if they would be able to endure the sometimes crushing agony their own weight generated as their skeletons became so pliable that during the worst, the only way to keep from suffocating as he and the others prisoners slept was while their bodies were suspended in tubs of heated water. Other times each wondered if this would be the final torture that also ended their grasp on reality. All of their suffering was complicated by the continual tests and experiments done upon them either by Doctor Lesko herself, or one of her underlings at her behest.

Human features vanished as the changes progressed, replaced by those of various cats, both great and domestic. Behavioral traits turned into a complex mix of human and feline, complete with drives that both shared and those that were unique to either aspect. There were moments when Wyatt acted more cat-like than man, and at times he felt as if he was losing his grasp on who he was. Had the genetic changes he and the others had been forced through taken any longer or had been quicker, Wyatt was sure that they would have lost themselves to some form of soul shattering insanity. As it was, the man managed to maintain his grasp on reality, and helped the others do the same, but he also held on to the values that had been central to his life and emerged on the other side of the induced mutation still in control of his mental faculties.

Truly it was a blessed day when he woke without anything more than minor aches and pains that were so minor as to be completely negligible. When the lights came on and he shifted to roll out of his bunk, Wyatt’s padded feet touched the clammy concrete floor of his cell and he had to pause.

It hadn’t hurt to move.

For weeks he and the others had only known pain with each and every movement, twitching muscles and debilitating cramps. Not today, though. Things started without the continuous aches and discomfort that had been a part of every moment, both waking and sleeping. Not that any of them really slept. The twisting of their physical forms had seen to it that sleep was anything but restful. Unable to restrain the tenuous joy of motion free from the prolonged agony, Wyatt sat up then stood, flexing each limb, his fingers and toes, even the tail that had sprouted from the base of his spine, his breathing increasing along with his heart rate as he realized he didn’t hurt! His euphoria didn’t diminish until he entered the main portion of the chamber to find that James Pinkerton had already exited his cell and was sitting at the long bench and table the members of Group 1 shared their meals at.

While Wyatt was now as much a savannah cat as he was human, most of his fur a dusty golden brown with black stripes and clusters of spots that had formed in three’s, James was a combination of man and black panther, his build a little more robust than it had been when he’d been human, including slightly greater height. His muscles, their definition quite clear, rippled beneath a covering of short, glossy black fur. James’ eyes had already changed before he’d been moved to Group 1, but instead of the vibrant, wholesome coloration that the rest of the prisoners exhibited, Pinkerton’s were a shade of bright yellow that seemed off, like pudding that had been allowed to go rancid, as if the malignancy in the serial killer’s soul had seeped into his irises.

James Pinkerton was happily engaged in examining his new form, and making a spectacle of it. One by one he extended the claws from the ends of his fingers, each curving blade a dark gray that almost seemed to glint in the light from the overhead LED clusters. He flexed each of his limbs in what seemed to be ecstasy, smiling as his coat rippled with each conscious muscle contraction while his tongue continuously flicked over the fangs and shearing teeth in his maw. His ear flicked as Wyatt emerged from his cell and stopped, James completely nonplussed at being clad in nothing but the fur that lay slick against his form. He finished his self examination before turning his head slowly to look at the other prisoner, his smile widening into a grin.

“I think that I’m going to like this quite a bit,” James all but purred as he rolled his shoulders and splayed his fingers wide, all of his claws coming out at once as his pupils dilated to their fullest.

Wyatt felt the fur along his own spine raise involuntarily at the implied threat as his own paw-like hands flexed to bring his own claws out. Though there was a certain amount of tenseness in his body, his tail lashing the air behind him, Wyatt also felt a certain level of anticipation that countered the adrenaline that flooded into him. “Anytime, Pinkerton,” he replied, his voice vibrating with the sort of thrum that all of them had developed with their altered vocal chords.

The panther man stood slowly, arching his back in a languid stretch before his expression melted into a sort of relaxed dismissive look. “Oh, you and I are certainly going to go round, Wyatt. Not today, but soon. Very soon.”

As nonchalantly as possible, James walked back to his cell, each step mincing and slowly sensual, as if the serial killer were a model on a runway. There was no denying the raw strength and liquid grace the murderer now possessed, and Pinkerton reveled in it. He wasn’t the only one, though.

As the murderer retired back to his cell and began to put on one of the odd jumpers they all wore, his modified in the same manner of abbreviated sleeves and legs to accommodate digitigrade legs with a hole fashioned for a tail, Wyatt flexed his own muscles feeling a kind of strength that he’d never before possessed and wondered just what his new form was capable of. He didn’t have long to consider what he might now be capable of as the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him distracted Wyatt from his thoughts. Still feeling the effects of the adrenaline flowing in his hybrid blood, Wyatt spun a little too quickly causing the technician that was politely trying to get his attention to gasp and take a step back.

Halley Kane held her electronic slate up as if it were a shield, never seeing the harsh light in Wyatt’s eyes like he had now and it caused her to swallow past a suddenly tight throat. “Wy-Wyatt? I n-need you to follow me, please.”

It only took a moment for the former inmate to release the tension in his shoulders, the fur lying flat along his spine and around his neck. Halley was one of the few technicians that treated him and the other prisoners of Group 1 as something more than lab animals and experiments. There had been no shortage of times that he caught a look of sympathy from the young woman while he was put through Lesko’s wringer, and often she tried to console him or alleviate the pain inflicted from various tests. He’d asked her more than once to avoid showing such compassion in case Halley was caught, though Wyatt’s warnings were for naught. The tech was of a different class than the others throughout the facility.

“More tests?” the savannah cat asked with a sudden surge of dread. “We don’t even get our exercise period or breakfast before it all starts again anymore?”

Halley shook her head apologetically. “Doctor Lesko is away for the next few days. I was told that I have to interview each of you and record it. It’s…it’s for the documentation she wants…” The woman dropped her eyes momentarily, her heart beating a touch faster than it should have while it suddenly felt that the temperature in the chamber had gone up several degrees. “I also have to take images of you and the, um, others. For visual, uh, documentation. I’ll have breakfast brought to you while we conduct the interview.”

Something was off about the technician, and Wyatt found himself sampling her scent with his much more sensitive nose. Halley was also more than a little agitated as she pulled the electronic slate tight against her. She acted much like he remembered some of the girls from high school, or some of the daughters of various clients that had chartered his boat and were taking their first steps into the world of adulthood. There was more to it than that, Wyatt was sure, but he smiled, careful not to reveal the needle sharp fangs that filled his mouth, and nodded ascent. “Lead the way, Halley,” he told her softly, his voice vibrating with that curious thrum, and smiled even harder when the girl shivered with something that certainly wasn’t fear.

“Right,” she mumbled with a jerking nod. “This…this way, please.”

Wyatt nodded and fell in step just behind the woman, his eyes flicking to the guards that waited at the entrance to the chamber, their weapons prominently displayed, and sighed in resignation.

“Today won’t be so bad, Wyatt. Really,” Halley told the anthrocat. He might be a cross of human and animal characteristics, but she still saw him as a man, and a decent one compared to some of the other test subjects. “Apart from the interview I’ll be taking scans of you with a full body imaging unit. You’ve been through that before so you know it doesn’t hurt.”

Wyatt maintained his silence until they entered the imaging room where a table and chairs had been set up. Before he could enquire what Halley wanted to do first, the woman stepped to the intercom and ordered a breakfast to be delivered along with a pot of coffee. As soon as her orders were acknowledged she switched off and turned to the anthrocat.

“Don’t let it get around that you got real food instead of your normal ration packet. Not only will it tick off the rest of Group 1, but Lesko will have my skin peeled off,” she told Wyatt with a shy grin.

“Not a problem,” the striped and spotted male answered casually before his eyes narrowed. “What I’d really like to know is why? Why are you being nice to me? Is this some sort of mind game? Going to hold out a treat in one hand while the other holds the beating stick?”

The look that crossed the young woman’s face was one of shock and horror as she held up her hands in a supplicating gesture. “No! I swear, Wyatt! I’m not playing mind games!”

There were no guards in the room, Halley having ordered the two that would normally have accompanied the technician into any area where she or one of the others were dealing with the test subjects to stay outside, leaving her very much alone with the incensed hybrid.

“Wyatt…I’ve…I’ve seen what kind of hell all of you are going through. I’ve seen that Lesko saves the worst for you! I…I don’t like being part of this! I thought…” Halley paused, her eyes filling though she batted away the tears before they could fall, though the emotional response brought a flush to her cheeks as she dropped heavily into one of the padded chairs, her shoulders drooping as if she were carrying a great weight. “When all of this started I wasn’t sure what we were doing. My boss, Andre Bolivar, he said it would be important, though. Important to what we were doing. Then, when I learned we’d be conducting genetic experiments, a morally grey area at best, I was a little skeptical, but I know its important work. Then all of you were brought in.

“I…I used to try and justify what we were doing because all of you came from death row. I figured that if all of you were slated for execution that you had to be some of the most terrible people possible. I was so very, very wrong!”

The tears that had threatened moment before spilled silently down her cheeks as Halley looked up to the combination human and savannah cat, even now the meeting with his orbs that had turned a golden yellow causing a lurch in her chest.

“Sure. Some of the people that Lesko’s testing on are scum. Some of them are the kind of people that the world’s better off without. But on the opposite side there’s people like Perry. People like you. You don’t belong here. You didn’t belong on death row and I can’t do anything to stop any of this!” She angrily swiped her cheeks with the cuff of her grey and green scrubs. “Not like it would do any good now, anyway! There’s no way to undo what’s been done to you and the others…what I’ve helped do to you…” Halley swallowed audibly. “Things are going to be different when Lesko comes back, Wyatt,” she warned once her emotions were under control.

“Different how?”

The woman shook her head and pulled her eyes away. “None of this could have happened without some serious help from other areas. I don’t know who, but I’ve heard Doctor Lesko speaking with Andre Bolivar about some senator that helped get all of you transferred here. There was also something about a phase three that would be starting soon, but I don’t know what that’s about. Then there are the guards that are here.” Halley lowered her voice to almost a whisper and leaned forward. “They’re all from some company called Janissaries. They’re PMC…private military contractors. Mercenaries. They’ve got a really bad reputation…”

Wyatt held up a paw, a furrow developing between his eyes. “What? A senator?” Halley nodded silently as the former man thought hard. “And Bolivar. That name…I’ve heard it before…”

“Andre Bolivar runs the Terran Colonization Coalition.” Halley’s gaze locked with his. “Wyatt, they want to use you and the others. I don’t know what for, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

The savannah cat scratched behind his left ear in thought, the claw tip working past his fur and the head hair that had started to return shortly after his fur had started to grow out. Finally he looked back at the young woman. “Halley, why are you telling me all this?”

She started visibly and lowered her head, her cheeks again reddening and began to fidget a little. “Look. We need to-”

Before the woman could finish her statement another tech in grey and green scrubs entered the room with a small cart that had the items she’d requested. From his time in the facility Wyatt had learned that certain tags that the people wore denoted their position. Lesko and her core group of researchers all had badges with their pictures and a blue diagonal stripe. Second tier individuals, like Halley had their badges denoted with green, while the lowest echelons had red. The one that brought in the cart had a red striped badge and didn’t stay longer than it took to deposit the food, stare for a few seconds at Wyatt, then hustled out of the room as fast as possible.

Halley got up and pulled the cart closer to the table, glad for the interruption. “Eat your breakfast then we’ll get to the interview portion before I take you to imaging. Okay?”

The smell from the coffee urn was something that Wyatt had missed, as were the smells coming from underneath the plastic cover that sat over the plate. He could pick up eggs, sausage, some kind of bread, his mouth instantly starting to water as his triangular nose twitched at the remembered scents of real food and wasted no time in helping himself to the contents. Wyatt tore into the offering with gusto, savoring the taste of real food. Though the actual quality was available at any roadside diner, to Wyatt it was one of the finest meals that he could recall having in his entire life, his appreciation stemming from months of military style ration packets.

Wyatt ate while Halley watched him, though every time his eyes looked up she would drop her gaze back down to the slate. There was something off about her behavior and while she seemed amiable enough, there was an underlying tension and nervousness that couldn’t be disguised. It caused Halley Kane to act a little distracted, but the reason for the behavior was beyond Wyatt. As he polished off the last of the eggs and a bit of toast he chalked her nervousness up to his appearance.

“Thank you. That was a sight better than a ration packet,” the cat said as he brushed crumbs away from his bifurcated lips and the long whiskers he now sported. “Do you want to go ahead and begin?”

 “Right!” she exclaimed a little too brightly, a touch too loudly as she again divided her attention from the slate to Wyatt. “Well, let’s, um…let’s get you ready for the interview and then we’ll do the imaging. Does that sound alright?”

Wyatt nodded, a little bemused by the woman’s reaction, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. He also found the scent that came from her to be quite interesting. Even past the smell of her soap, deodorant and perfume there was her scent and he found it more than a little intriguing. Shaking his head slowly he got up to push the cart away before returning to the table and chair that Halley had waiting, only to find that the woman had been staring rather avidly at his backside and tail. “Halley? Are you sure you’re up for this?”

The woman turned to get up and walked to the recording equipment and attached computer terminal to ready the camera and sound pick-up while she muttered to herself. “I hope so.” 

*** 

All in all the morning had been rather pleasant in comparison to every morning that preceded it in this version of hell and Wyatt slipped on his modified jumper while Halley ensured the data was properly saved for Lesko once the woman returned from wherever it was she’d gone to. It took a moment to get his tail situated properly in the rip he’d put in the seat of the garment, then another to get the fur to lay properly flat. All the while he was aware of Halley’s eyes on him, of her watching every move. Despite his fingers being a little shorter and thicker with the addition of claws where nails had once been, Wyatt didn’t have any difficulty in tying the simple belt that was incorporated into the modified jumper and finished knotting it a second before the young woman motioned him next to her and the flat screen she sat behind.

“You’ll want to see this,” she said with a smile and gleam in her eyes. Halley snagged a roller stool for the savannah cat to use and shifted a little so that Wyatt would have an unobstructed view. “I don’t think you’ve seen what you really look like yet.” She tapped one of the images on the screen that expanded and began to slowly revolve. “This is you, Wyatt.”

He looked on in a sort of twisted fascination. The only thing of Wyatt Renner that still resembled a human man was his general shape of two arms, two legs and being upright. Everything else was like something from a science fiction, or maybe a horror movie. His eyes were a curious yellow with golden brown flecks and sat in a face that was undeniably feline. Oddly enough he still had brow ridges that he knew from watching the others of Group 1 were more than capable of enhancing expressions. His cheeks were covered in the same dusty yellow-tan fur that the rest of his body was covered in, though there were darker spots where his long white whiskers emerged from underneath his fur and his head was topped with two blunted triangular ears that sat amongst the thatch of sandy blond hair that started to grow back and were surprisingly mobile and flexible, each one able to rotate to better hear sounds he’d previously been unaware of.

Wyatt was just as lean as he’d been as a full human, but the actual definition of his muscles, tightened and hardened from living and working on boats since he was a child was softened by the fur he now wore. Two long black stripes that started at his neck flowed down either side of his spine with three more that swept past each shoulder blade and around his ribs. Interspersed around the stripes along his back, sides and down his arms and legs were clusters of spots that formed unequal triangular patterns. As the image continued to revolve he saw that each of his buttocks was accented with broken dash stripes that framed his rump like parenthesis. His tail, long and thick, was banded with its own strip pattern, the black rings appearing a little over four inches apart until they reached the tip which was all black. His chest was a little lighter and that coloration flowed down to his inner thighs. Despite the concealment provided by his new fur, there were still visible markers that indicated he was male, but not in a way that could be considered blatant or obscene, particularly with his maleness now being sheathed and concealed.

It was his legs that astounded him, though. Despite being on what would have been his toes and the balls of his feet as a human man, his wide toes and the pads he now had actually put more surface area in contact with the floor while the joints that had been his heels and ankles now sat a little over a foot off the floor. That particular change had been the hardest to acclimate to as far as Wyatt was concerned. They continued up into his shins, though the calf muscles were much more developed and refined to accommodate his feet and the manner he now walked, giving strength and support for the almost perpetually bent positions of his legs. His thighs were perhaps a touch shorter, keeping him at roughly the same height he’d been as a human, but the thick bones were covered on thick, ropy muscles. While he could extend the claws on his fingers further by flexing his hands, the ones on the ends of his toes were always out. Wyatt knew that apart from fighting, animals used them to aid traction while running and it seemed as if they would do the same for him if he ever again found himself outside.

“This is me?” Wyatt inquired in a vibrating whisper, completely astonished that this was what he now looked like, despite seeing the changes in the others around him and the torture that he’d endured for so long.

Halley nodded while smiling warmly. “It is,” she answered in a breathy voice. “You are beautiful, aren’t you?” she added as she regarded the image on the screen.

Both of them realized what she’d said at the same time and pulled away to look at the other, Wyatt tilting his head quizzically while Halley spluttered a clarification.

“I, um…the strength! The lean look…perfect…I mean the blending of human and feline, the whole thing is incredible, isn’t it?” Halley tried to backpedal and failed, her cheeks flushing so badly that the blush traveled down her neck and throat and past the neck of her scrubs. “When Lesko said…and I didn’t think it was possible…” she swallowed as Wyatt continued to look at her with an intensity that caused her entire body to fight between going taut and wanting to melt. “I…I…oh, god…”

Wyatt suddenly realized what it had been that he’d been detecting from Halley’s scent every time they had to interact. That realization caused certain urges that hadn’t manifested during the entire duration of his time at the facility to emerge and he found the jumper to immediately become too warm and far too restricting. “How long, Halley?”

The girl swallowed automatically, choking down the gesture past a mouth and throat that had suddenly gone painfully dry in her embarrassment and shock at being asked the one thing she’d worried about for over six months. “The…the first time I met you…”

“When I was still human?” he inquired, his voice deepening as possibilities flitted through his mind. Halley was the kind of girl he’d liked to have met during his previous life, before he’d become a multi-murderer, before death row, before becoming a science project. She had pale, almost white, blond hair that bespoke of Nordic descent, her milky skin was clear and perfect and her blue green eyes the kind that a man wanted to see on the pillow on the opposite side of the bed. How cruel the irony that he had to meet her now when his humanity had been forcefully taken from him.

“When you were still human,” the young woman admitted in a whispered voice.

“And now that I’m not human?” Wyatt asked, his words and tone flat as he tried to reign in his anger and frustration.

Haley shook her head. “That hasn’t changed anything. You’re still the same person, aren’t you?”

Wyatt felt his tail lash the air behind him and fought to keep his dewlaps from rising to expose his teeth and struggled to keep his ears from flattening against his skull. “Am I?” Before she could answer he straightened and turned to the door, punching the large button that would open it by smashing his furred knuckles into it at velocity. The guards outside started visibly, their hands going to their weapons, expecting to find the technician and not the prisoner.

“Miss Kane is done with me now. I’d like to go back to the Group 1 chamber,” Wyatt told them, his head lowered in anger, regret and shame.

The two guards complied and directed the savannah cat back to the holding cells while Halley slumped in her chair, her chest heaving and her cheeks cooling from the silent tears that flowed freely. 

*** 

Emily Lesko found that she liked the city of New Orleans less than she liked the Alaskan facility. The heat and humidity outside was more than just uncomfortable, it was oppressive, beating at her from all directions and making each breath feel like she were inhaling hot water. Not even the iced coffee did much to make her comfortable as she sat in the air conditioned dining suite waiting on her appointment. If the temperature and thick, turgid air affected the two Janissaries LTD. mercenaries that accompanied her as body guards were affected by the wretched summer air none of them showed it. She did have to give them credit in that they took their jobs seriously, one of the four intercepting servers before they entered the private dining area or submitting requests on the Doctor’s behalf. They didn’t slouch but stood almost at attention, their hands clasped before them, though within easy reach of the various weapons she knew each carried.

She wasn’t even halfway through her second drink, the iced coffee liberally splashed with good bourbon before her head lifted at the commotion from the door that led to the secluded tables. Two of Lesko’s bodyguards were engaged in a silent stare-down with the three that accompanied Senator Bingham, a recent spate of domestic issues prompting many politicians to acquire additional protection to fend off possible encounters. She couldn’t help but smile at the comparison between the Senator’s guards and her own. Where the Janissaries wore ties and sports coats of dark, conservative colors, their collars properly pressed and clean, Senator Bingham looked as if he’d acquired his at a store that specialized in used thugs, his three guards looking as if they’d be much more at home working for one of the Italian crime families of New York or New Jersey, one even going so far as to wear a hideous plaid jacket that looked like something from a very bad 1970’s crime drama.

Emily cleared her throat, the sound carrying to the mercenaries by the door and smiled as they stepped back to allow the good Senator and his entourage entry. “It’s good of you to see me on such short notice, Senator Bingham,” Lesko told the man as she motioned to the empty chair opposite her own with the tall, slender glass of iced coffee. “I think, however, it might have been better to choose someplace that didn’t make me feel as if I were actually sitting in the middle of a swamp.”

“It’s difficult for me to justify travel right now as the state is recuperating from the latest series of tropical storms, Doctor,” Bingham drawled as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. “Unfortunately it has had the effect of making things much more uncomfortable than they normally are for this part of the country.” He nodded to the oldest of his guards. “The usual, Raymond, and make sure the bartender doesn’t cut my martini with too much vermouth this time.” The guard nodded and moved off to get the Senator his drink while the politician turned back to the woman, his face wrinkling in disapproval as she struck a cigarette and blew the smoke in his direction. “Am I to assume that this isn’t just a social call, Doctor Lesko?”

“If it were a social call I’d have used the phone instead of flying for several hours to this mud hole,” Emily replied tartly, ignoring the look of disapproval for her less than cordial reference to his state of birth. “Andre and I need more subjects. Preferably those without any sort of medical implants. Dentures are fine as the subjects will grow new teeth, but anything invasive completely negates them from the program.”

Bingham blinked slowly before taking off his glasses and using a cloth napkin to clean the lenses. It was one of the ploys that he used when pushing legislature to give himself a moment to compose his thoughts and, or at least his publicist advised, made him look older and wiser than many of the younger senators that filled the halls of Congress. “Madam, I saw to it that you received your initial request of over one hundred death row inmates. What happened to them?”

Lesko shrugged. “Quite a few of them died, but then that’s the reason that we’re using prisoners slated for execution, isn’t it?” Emily set her glass down and took a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling and regarding the man across from her through a cloud of tobacco smoke. “I need full medical files on the ones you send us. Implants don’t work with the restructuring of the subject’s internal organs. The results of some have been rather messy. One had her Lap Band tear through her heart while another had a screw from a bone graft in to his leg wind up in his brain. There was even one that had hernia mesh push through the abdominal musculature and his intestines spilled out in front of one of my underlings while he was on a treadmill. The mess was something else.”

Bingham turned a little green as Lesko described some of the cases of medical implants impeding her work and felt his own stomach clench with a minor wave of nausea. “Please, Doctor. I’d truly like to enjoy my lunch, if you don’t mind.”

“Not able to handle a little blood, Senator?” she smirked, her opinion of the politician declining substantially. If he only knew the blood that was on his hands. “Regardless, we’ve suffered an alarming rate of attrition, though the knowledge we’ve gleaned has been incredible. All I’m asking is that future subjects be free of artificial implants of any nature. The restructuring is geared towards the organic aspects of the test subjects and cannot account for even the simplest medical devices.”

The guard had appeared with the Senator’s martini and the politician gulped it down to settle his queasiness then handed the cocktail glass back for a refill. “Get me another one, Raymond, exactly like that one.” Bingham turned back to the Doctor and clasped his hands in front of him on the periwinkle table cloth and used his thumb to play with one of his rings. “You realize, of course, that there are only so many men and women on death row. I’ve already got protesters hounding me about the rather speedy manner in which the last batch were… processed.”

“I don’t care about that, Senator,” Emily replied in a chill tone. “The agreement was you provide the project with raw materials, we help you in your bid for President. Or am I mistaken?” She smirked as perspiration began to again bead out on the man’s forehead while his coloration reddened. “I don’t care if you send me life time prisoners with no chance at parole, death row inmates, you can even send me mental deficients! I don’t care about the details, but I need subjects for further testing.”

Bingham swallowed and wished that his bodyguard would hurry back with his drink. He’d seen some cold people in his day, but the woman that sat across from him was of an entirely different class of evil. He was rather sure that she would have done quite well for herself with the Nazi Party back in the 1930’s and 40’s. “It will take time, Doctor. You’ll get the people you need, but it’ll take time.”

“Subjects, Senator. They are subjects, not people,” Lesko corrected. “See to it that I do get them. I’m down to less than seventy of the original group. As it stands I’ve had to make transfers to my four control groups, but I want to make sure that I have redundancies in place.”

“You’ll get them,” the politician told her in his most placating tone just as his guard reappeared with a second drink. “Now then, Doctor. When do I get to see the…ah, product? I have a few tests of my own I’d like to run.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. What sort of tests?”

“I have a few boys that I know that I’d like to see your pets go against. A couple of professional hunters, two boys that were part of the Naval Warfare School…” Bingham picked up his martini. “If I’m going to be using the fruits of your labors for certain roles such as law enforcement, I’d like to see how your critters perform.”

Lesko didn’t answer, instead she reached down and retrieved her purse and pulled a notepad and pen out. “Be at these coordinates in two weeks time. Make sure your schedule is clear for a few days and I’ll show you.” She slid the paper across the table and replaced her materials in the bag before setting it down next to her foot. “I think you’ll enjoy what you’re going to see and I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”

Bingham nodded and tucked the paper into his jacket pocket. “I think I can arrange that,” he told her smoothly. “Now then, have you ever had honest to god Creole cooking, Doctor? I think that if you haven’t you might enjoy this. We are at one of my favorite restaurants, after all.” 

*** 

Emily Lesko was more than happy to board the plane that would carry her to the meeting that had also been scheduled with Andre Bolivar after her rendezvous with the good Senator Bingham. It would be nice to spend a little time in a civilized part of the world and looked forward to the more temperate climate of Geneva, Switzerland, the location of the Terran Colonization Coalition’s headquarters. Granted, there were satellite offices in several countries, but one didn’t expect the head of that particular organization to come to them. People went to see Andre Bolivar, not the other way around. The steward brought her a ginger ale and bourbon before disappearing into the galley, enabling the Doctor to recline the seat for the several hours they’d be in the air.

Just as she settled in one of the Janissaries mercs stepped from the back where their seats were located, a tablet in his hand. “I hate to disturb you, Doctor Lesko, but we may have a situation.”

The woman cracked open an eye. “Situation?What kind of situation, exactly?”

“It might be easier if you see for yourself,” the man said, his face neutral as he extended the hand with the electronic tablet.

The series of letters and numbers in the lower right hand corner of the picture indicated that it was one of the security cameras located throughout the Alaska facility. Lesko’s finger stroked the PLAY icon and she watched the recorded data with knitted brows. When Halley Kane appeared on the screen, her head looking left and right to ensure no one was watching, Emily sat up a little straighter. Then, when Wyatt Renner appeared at the young woman’s insistence, his feline ears swiveling to and fro in small arcs to detect any possible personnel, the Doctor smiled coldly. She watched as the pair ducked into one of the many doors along that section of corridor. They didn’t emerge for some time.

Despite the rather high resolution of the recording it was difficult to tell if the pair had been engaged in activities that most would assume, especially seeing them skulking around like teenagers out after curfew. The kiss on the side of his fuzzy cheek that Halley gave Emily Lesko’s creation left little doubt that their liaison might have been amorous in nature. Then Lesko realized what room the pair of ersatz lovers had slipped into.

“That was the central control room,” Lesko muttered, anger beginning to seethe within her chest. “Send a message to your cohorts, Lieutenant. Lock down all of the Group chambers. If any of the subjects are caught out of their respective areas, they are to be captured and confined if possible, otherwise shoot to kill. I will, however, personally put a bullet into the brain of the man or woman that kills one of my test subjects without provocation. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am,” the black haired mercenary acknowledged.

“In the meantime, let Group 1 continue as they are. I want to see how this little romantic tragedy pans out,” Lesko instructed with a grin that made her appear quite predatory. 

*** 

“What the hell, Wyatt? Why are you hanging out with one of Lesko’s good little monsters?” Julie demanded in a harsh whisper as the members of Group 1 ran through their morning exercise routine, her and Wyatt both on treadmills next to each other. “Is she giving it for you? Is that why you’ve been chumming around with the Kane girl?”

Wyatt turned to look at the other savannah cat with a hard glare. While his fur pattern was a mixture of stripes and spots, Julie Valance only had short, abbreviated stripes behind her ears with the rest of her yellow tinged, golden brown coat liberally sprinkled with glossy black dots and her tail only had three bands towards the tip. She still had her feminine curves, but everything that was manifestly female was concealed by the luxurious covering of silken fur. Her ears were a little pointier than his, and the tips had tapered points in the same colored fur as most of her body. Her eyes were a curious mix of yellow and orange, giving her an intriguingly intense appearance. Her hair had also started to grow back in, the auburn locks coming in straight and fine that actually looked pleasant when combined with her new form.

“She isn’t like that, Jules,” he husked back, his steps actually thudding on the flat surface of the treadmill. “She’s trying to help us. Halley doesn’t like what’s being done to us anymore than we do.”

Julie snorted derisively, her lips lifting enough so that the tips of her fangs showed glistening white. “Really? Well, that makes it okay, then, huh?” she shot back caustically. “As long as she’s helping us it’s all just hunky-dory, right?” The expression of disdain became one of hot anger. “Never mind that you’re getting privileges the rest of us don’t. Oh, that and the fact that her stink is all over you!”

“Holy…” Wyatt began and slowed his pace a little as he regarded the other savannah cat with a look of incredulousness. “Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“I’m not jealous!” the anthrocat hissed loudly, lowering her head when some of the others turned to look at the pair. “I’m not jealous, Wyatt,” she said again far more softly. “It’s just…she’s not one of us, Wyatt. She’s one of the ones that helped do this to us!”

Wyatt shook his head. “She didn’t know, Julie. I swear to you she didn’t. I tell you what she has been doing and that’s helping me get access to information. I know where we are.”

“You do?!? Where?”

Wyatt looked around and leaned a little closer to the other feline hybrid. “A place called Fort Freedom. It’s an old Cold War bunker. It was built to house the President, his family and whatever remained of the government if there was ever a nuclear war. We’re on one of the islands in the Aleutian chain off Alaska.”

“No wonder I’m always cold,” Julie groused. “Nothing between us and the Arctic Circle but cold water.”

“Yeah. But there’s more. A lot more.The people funding this whole thing, the ones that had this done to us? It’s the TCC. The Terran Colonization Coalition.And Andre Bolivar. They did this. I can only guess why, but all of the things I’ve found out just don’t make sense.” He shook his head again. “Anyway, Halley’s been showing me where things are in the bunker complex. I know where the central control room is, radios…everything.”

Julie nodded in understanding. “The only problem is the Janissaries mercs.”

“There’s more of them than we thought,” Wyatt said. “But there’re other groups like ours, but they’re being turned into different animal hybrid types. From what I’ve been able to learn there’s a group that’s dogs and wolves and things, there are bears and different foxes. I’ve seen one of the guys from the bears. He was pretty big. Halley’s going to try to get me in to the main lab so I can look at the others. The way I figure it there’s something like eight to twelve mercs assigned to a group. The techs and medics are all egghead types, so they really aren’t a threat. Or at least most of them aren’t.”

Julie had resumed her pace on her own treadmill but stumbled a little as she looked at the other savannah cat. “You’re going to see her again today?”

“Yeah. She’s supposed to be coming to get me after telling the guards that I’m needed for more tests or something.”

The cat woman slapped her padded paw-like hand down on the red STOP button and hopped off the exercise machine with an icy glare. “Bastard!” she hissed before heading to the shower area, her jumper coming of in strips as she ripped it from her body.

“What did I say to set you off this time?” Wyatt called after the retreating hybrid, completely confused as to why she was acting out towards him.

“You know, despite what she might say, Julie is jealous to a degree. Maybe not because of romantic notions, but because you are one of us and happen to be spending time with those she considers the enemy. She is also hurt because of this, my friend,” Ramad said as he stepped up to the savannah cat.

Ramad been combined with what Wyatt had learned was a snow leopard, a cat he’d heard of but never even seen pictures of. His overall coloration was light grey with a touch of tan and brown and a series of circular spots of black with darker grey in the center. His eyes strayed from the normal colors of most felines and appeared bluish-grey giving the Syrian descended American a rather wise look.

“But there’s nothing to be jealous of!” Wyatt replied, still off balance by Julie’s behavior. “It’s not like she’s been exactly clear on her own feelings.” He shut down the treadmill and stepped over to a set of pulley weights and adjusted the amount, actually lessening the payload by half as Perry had been the last to use the machine, the large tiger hybrid stronger than any of the others in Group 1. “And so what if I am? If I want to spend time with another that’s wiling, well that’s my business, right? Not like I think any of us are going to live long enough to enjoy any kind of protracted romance.”

Ramad watched as the other male began to work the handles of the weight machine in rapid sequence, his exertions causing him to pant with the effort as he exercised his agitation out. “I agree with you, my friend. Women are truly strange. They will hide their feelings and act uninterested, until one finds another woman that is, and then all is finally made clear. And as for us, we are fools for falling for it every time and ever will it be our fault.”

Wyatt was unable to answer as the tech that was monitoring their morning exercises signaled it was time for the rest of the group to enter the showers. He let the weights clack back down onto the stack before heading the way Julie had already gone, like her he simply shredded his jumper and dropped it in a cardboard crate that would eventually be taken to the facility’s incinerator. Julie was back in the far corner of the shower area, her back to the others as she huddled under the hot spray.

This part of the morning ritual made no sense to Wyatt and he thought about it as he activated his own nozzle, wincing at the initial blast of cold water, his raised ire causing him to forget to let it warm up. Since their fur had come in fully none of them perspired anymore. Excess heat was either radiated through their ears or panted away. Perhaps it was simply a way to prevent the parasites and other issues that could arise when more than just a few people were confined to a small area, but he doubted that the facility had fleas or anything of that nature. Though Wyatt was fairly sure that if it was something that could make his and the other prisoners life more miserable, Lesko would have them imported.

Julie made no move to talk to him. If anything she went out of her way to keep as much space between her and Wyatt as possible and wouldn’t so much as look in his direction. What upset the savannah cat more than anything else was that James Pinkerton noticed the tension between them and smiled, letting Wyatt see that he was aware of their spat. The panther man didn’t smile, but the interest in the new situation was clear in his off-yellow eyes.

“Hey, Ramad? Keep an eye on Julie, okay? Stay close to her today if you can,” Wyatt whispered to the snow leopard. “Pinkerton knows I’m on the outs at the moment and might try something.”

The other cat man nodded in ascent. “Absolutely, my friend. I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much, though. None of us trusts him. I’m thinking that the only way that he could be even more dangerous is if the transformation had taken him all the way to animal, that way there would be no emotional constraint at all.”

“I don’t think he’s ever had that problem anyway,” Wyatt observed.

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.