Freaks of Greenfield High (2 page)

Jay slid aside a cleverly designed portion of the roof and, moving so quickly that to human eyes she would be nothing but a blur, she climbed outside, flattened herself against the pitched roofline and froze. From her vantage point, her sensory enhancements allowed her to hear footsteps, measured and quick, as the attack force ascended the stairs and headed for the study. The men were military-trained professionals, maintaining radio silence and communicating via hand signals. Her replica had thoroughly fooled their sensors, leading them to believe they knew exactly where their quarry would be found.

The men were now battering the door into the study with a portable ramming device. Jay had ensured it would be no easy task to break through the reinforced door. In their place, however, she would have saved considerable time by barging straight through the wall.

They achieved their objective and burst into the study.

Jay blinked and switched to infra-red vision. A near soundless whine, audible only to her, indicated that the final countdown was now in progress. Behind its covering panel, the study alarm’s indicator light would now have escalated to a distorted crimson line.

Ten. Nine. Eight….

Using electronics to cover her tracks had been a carefully calculated risk. EMP weapons could render even her sophisticated timing device useless. But an EMP weapon could destroy
all
electronic devices within range, including computer hard drives. She had based her primary plan on the assumption that obtaining Father’s research was their main priority. They would not dare risk destroying that research, for then, if Alexander Durham’s creation escaped their grasp, they would be left with nothing.

She observed the fiery silhouettes of the men raising their weapons as they spotted Father’s body and what they believed was their target. Their leader signaled two of his men to approach.

Four. Three. Two—

The instant the first of three precisely timed blasts ripped through the stately old country house, she launched herself from the rooftop.

The man seated in the armored car parked behind the Hummers shielded his eyes. He yelled into his comms device, far too distracted by this surprising turn of events to notice Jay surfing the outer limits of the first blast wave.

She landed in a flat-footed crouch, thirty-feet-nine-inches beyond the two-story house. It was not her best jump. In calmer wind conditions she had achieved thirty-one feet.

She took off at a run, simultaneously scanning the vicinity for evidence of pursuit. The probability that the covert organization pursuing her would include a chopper in the retrieval attempt had been high, but aside from tersely shouted orders she heard nothing of note.

For whatever reason, they had underestimated her capabilities, leaving her with nothing to challenge her. Nothing to help ease the painful tightness twisting of what Father had insisted was her heart.

She entered a heavily wooded area bordering the property, and all trace of her passing was swallowed by the night.

Jay closed the front door of her apartment and engaged the security system she’d personally designed and installed. She’d also installed a new door, as well as reinforcing the strength of the wall. She didn’t fear intruders. For her, increasing the security of each new residence was simply a logical course of action.

The apartment took up the entire topmost floor of an old but well-preserved building. The first floor was little more than a large hall, sporadically rented out to community groups. The ground floor housed a number of eclectic stores. The scarcity of regular customers to the stores, and the lack of foot-traffic, were her chief reasons for choosing this particular apartment. Leasing it had been ridiculously easy despite her apparent youth. She’d deepened her voice to a masculine timbre and conducted the initial transaction by phone, then finalized the lease arrangements via email and internet transactions. Child’s play to then uplift the keys from the leasing agency in person on behalf of her “uncle”, who was “away on business”. No one had queried the absence of her fictional guardian in the week since she’d moved in. Her cover story would hold provided no one pried too deeply into her affairs.

At this early hour, the only sounds were the mouse-like squeaks of Jay’s sneakers on the treads of the worn stairs. She slapped the exit button, pushed through the doors, and set off at a measured jog.

The town she had selected this time was unremarkable—as were its white-collar, middle class inhabitants. According to a newspaper article written around the time the current mayor had been elected, Snapperton’s only claim to fame was its well established history of mediocrity.

It would be difficult for operatives to infiltrate the town without being noticed. In Snapperton she could hide in plain sight. For now.

Her internal clock told her it was 0100 hours, early enough to provide an excellent opportunity to map wireless hotspots and detect any signal leakages from Wi-Fi networks that she could exploit if required. She would take special note of unexpected power surges or electronic anomalies which might indicate the area had been targeted and was being monitored.

Forty-six minutes into her run, she picked up a tail. She allowed him to shadow her for five minutes before she pulled up and knelt on the pavement to fuss with her perfectly tied shoelaces.

The man ran past her, his chest heaving like a bellows, droplets of sweat flicking from his person and his clothing. She scanned him for hidden weapons or electronic surveillance equipment. Nothing.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he slowed and turned back to her, jogging on the spot. “You… ’kay… hon?” he puffed.

“I am fine. Thank you.” She stood, and considered her options given the available data. His expression revealed only concern for her wellbeing. His breathing had been labored and his running technique far too inefficient for him to be a regular runner. He had neither the appearance nor the demeanor of a physically fit, trained operative. Conclusion? Harmless.

He gave up jogging and stood, feet apart, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side. “Yanno, a young girl like you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour.”

Jay cocked her head and considered his statement carefully. “Why? Are you planning on attacking me?”

He blew out a laugh that turned into a wheezing cough. When he’d caught his breath again he said, “Funny girl. This is Snapperton, fergodsakes—safe as houses. ’Sides, I get the feeling you could outrun me with both hands tied behind your back.”

“You are correct in that last assumption.”

“You oughta head back home before your folks figure out you’re AWOL,” he said. “If I found
my
daughter missing at this hour, I’d be frantic. And when I found her, she’d be grounded for the term of her natural life.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why are
you
out alone at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Thought going for a run might tire me out.”

She nodded. “Me, too.” And to alleviate any further concerns he might have, she added, “I’m heading home now.”

“Good-o.” He waved at her as he headed off again. And, after reviewing the conversation, Jay concluded it would be prudent to do as he had suggested and return home before she attracted any more attention. In future, she would limit her “exercise” to more acceptable daylight hours.

~~~

At what she deemed to be an appropriate hour of the morning, Jay exited her apartment again, this time heading in the direction of the school she’d chosen. Not that she’d truly
had
a choice of high schools because Snapperton boasted only the one: Greenfield High.

She adjusted the straps of her backpack and began pumping her arms as she walked, copying the movements of a group of elderly females on the opposite side of the road. As she powered past two girls who were slightly younger than Jay appeared to be, she heard them giggling. They were talking about her—what a “dork” she was, and how “uncool” it was to be seen power-walking, “’Cause, like, my grandma does that!”

Jay replayed the girls’ conversation, analyzing intonation, sentence construction and slang usage, along with facial expressions and body language. The speed she was walking, and the manner in which she was swinging her arms, was apparently not acceptable. She slowed her pace, let her arms hang loosely at her sides, and instructed her body to move in a way that would not attract further comment.

Humans were such complex creatures. And the only human she’d extensively interacted with had been Alexander Durham, the man she’d called Father. Instant access to a myriad of databases and information was no substitute when it came to blending in with modern-day teens. He should have provided her with suitable subjects to observe and mimic. It was unconscionably careless of him to have put her at risk by neglecting such a crucial part of her education.

An insistent, high-pitched noise intruded on her thought processes, yanking her into the present… and the realization she was standing in the middle of the pavement, jaws clamped together, fists tightly clenched at her sides, her entire body tensed, and her skin flushed with heat.

She performed an internal diagnostic and concluded everything was in order. But there had been no imminent danger, not even the vaguest hint of a potential threat. There was no valid reason for her to have reacted in such a way. Odd.

The duration of the anomaly had been one minute thirty-eight seconds—long enough for her behavior to be deemed strange, and perhaps even noteworthy, if she had been observed. She scanned the street and surrounds. The two girls were nowhere to be seen. The probability they’d passed her by and turned the corner up ahead was high enough that Jay dismissed them from her mind. Her immediate concern was the elderly man approaching her at a shuffle.

Attached to a lead the man clutched in his hand was a small, scruffy, extremely voluble creature that Jay identified as canine, primarily terrier, intermixed with at least five other breeds.

Humans seemed to find these creatures useful. Jay could understand the value of the larger breeds. She could even appreciate those canines bred primarily for their unique physical characteristics. But this one possessed no pleasing physical characteristics that she could discern. Its primary function seemed to be housing fleas and making an awful lot of noise.

“Are you all right, young lady?” the old man said, in a voice that quavered. “Seeing you standing there like some fierce statue gave me a bit of a turn.”

“Yes. Thank you for asking, though. I was deep in thought and standing very still helps me to think.” She smiled at the man until the frown lines creasing his face eased.

“Penny for them,” he cackled.

Jay searched her databases for quotations and sayings. Ah. He referred to her thoughts. She snorted—a response she’d discovered to be useful in some awkward social situations. “I do not believe my thoughts are worth that much.”

Now the normal thing to do would be to pat the canine. This action might also serve to deflect the man’s curiosity about her thoughts—and her apparently unusual manner in thinking them. “May I pat your dog?”

“Sure. Fifi don’t much like strangers, though. She might nip you.”

Jay squatted on her haunches and held out her left hand. As she’d observed humans do, she clicked her fingers to invite the dog to approach and sniff her scent. “Here, girl,” she said, keeping her tone gentle and encouraging. “Here, Fifi.”

The little canine inched forward, its entire body wriggling with indecision. Then it whined and leaned back, sticking its rear in the air and waggling its stubby tail. Its antics were so comical Jay found it ridiculously easy to remember to smile.

The dog’s acute sense of smell had detected Jay’s otherness. Little wonder it was reluctant to approach. Jay tweaked the chemical mix of her pheromones until her pores secreted an odor more appealing to canine creatures. The dog gave a series of high-pitched yaps. It bounded forward with an enthusiastic bark and buried its nose in her hand. Then it sat on its haunches and scratched behind one ear.

Poor little creature. The fleas must be driving it to distraction. Jay concocted a specific mix from her body’s available chemical compounds. She ruffled the fur on the dog’s back and the flea repellent oozed from the pores of her fingertips, transferring onto its skin. “Who’s a brave girl?” she crooned.

“Well, I never!” the old man said. “You must be something quite special, young lady.”

Jay made her left eyelid droop in a wink. “Oh,” she said, “I am.”

He cackled again, appreciative of her attempt at wit.

She was gaining more proficiency at this nebulous skill humans called humor. She gave the dog one last rub, ensuring its freedom from fleas for the next four to six weeks. “I have to go or I’ll be late for school. See you, Fifi. You be a good girl, now.”

The old man grinned back at her, his nut-brown eyes all but disappearing in a sea of wrinkles. “Goodbye, young lady.” He and the dog meandered off down the path.

Jay reviewed the interaction and concluded she’d acquitted herself adequately, and done nothing further to raise the old man’s suspicions. From what she understood about social interactions at high school, though, any hint of out of the ordinary behavior would not be so easily forgiven. It was imperative she closely mimic the behavior of her peers so she didn’t stand out in any way. Still, it should not be beyond her capabilities to seamlessly integrate into high school life. She did not believe attending high school could be anything close to “hell on earth”, as was so frequently claimed in the numerous accounts she’d read.