Hybrid (20 page)

You can't have my daughter!

She remembered Brianna whispering a continuous mantra as she held her.

It wants me, it wants me, it wants me.

She had repeated those words over and over, while her body convulsed with tremors of stark terror.

Erik emerged from the bathroom looking refreshed. He had re-wrapped his chest, and had another wrap around his right arm covering the large burn on his palm.

“Well.” Erik seated himself on the sofa. “I almost feel human again.” He looked at Shanda and adopted a serious expression. “Well, now you know what we faced up in the mountainside.” He adjusted the tie on his black sweatpants.

“I'm still trying to get over the creepies,” she responded with an involuntary shudder. “I don't know what to say, or even think. I wouldn't have believed that things like that even exist. I've heard some of my customers talk about things like that existing ages ago, but I thought they were reading too many fairy tales.”

“What worries me,” Erik responded, “are there any more of these creatures up there? We can barely deal with the two we have now. Say there were four or six of those things running around up there. What if there are more of these things scattered around the countryside? We could be facing some real danger to the general populace.” Erik leaned forward and reached inside a drawer on the small table at his side. He produced a small topographic map and unfolded it on the table surface. He was intently studying the Hopedale Mountain and surrounding areas.

“What are you looking for?” Shanda asked as she studied the map's details alongside him.

“A pattern, a clue—anything that might give me some rhyme or reason as to what triggered these things. I'm convinced that something happened high up in the mountain. Something had to change to draw these things down; the questions are what, why, and how. Anybody foolish enough to attempt going back up there will need to know the answers to those questions.”

Before Shanda could reply, the telephone rang. Erik walked over to the phone in his kitchen and answered. Shanda tried not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to overhear the conversation in his small apartment. She could tell by his half of the dialogue that the caller was his ex-wife. Shanda knew that word of what had occurred must have made its way to her; she could imagine the woman's panic over not seeing her daughter, not knowing that she was safe.

“No, Margaret, that's not necessary; she's fast asleep now,” Erik answered.

“Tell Richard not to come over here,” Erik said forcefully.

“I'm not angry, I'm just tired. Look, she's sleeping; picking her up now is crazy. Sleep is the best thing for her. I'm not going to wake her up.” Erik paused.

“I don't know what they were. I'm working on that with the police. No, I'm not mad at you for suggesting the party. It's not your fault, Margaret, so don't go there. No one could possibly foresee something like this.” Erik was silent for a few moments, grunting in agreement periodically. He looked over at Shanda and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, I'll see you in the morning, about nine-thirty is fine. Good enough, goodbye.” Erik hung up the phone and walked back to the couch and the map he was studying.

“She just heard from one of the mothers at the party,” Erik explained.

“I'm sure she was probably freaking out,” Shanda replied.

“She blames herself for not being there,” Erik said, studying the map intently.

“What could she have done if she were there?” Shanda asked.

Erik looked at her, his eyes burning with intensity. “Probably die, along with everyone else, but I couldn't tell her that. I can't tell her that this thing wanted our daughter for God only knows what. I've been lucky, twice, so far dealing with those things. If the police hadn't shown up when they did we'd probably all be dead anyway, at least I would have.” Erik looked up at her, and she saw a flash of fear in his expression. “I can't watch over her twenty-four hours a day. If they come for her again and I'm not there.... “Erik hedged. “I don't know if lady luck will smile upon the same fool three times.”

“What are you saying?” Shanda asked. “You came out on top out there. You saved all those people.”

“This time, perhaps,” he added moodily as he flexed the bicep in his right arm. “I got lucky. Even with my enhanced strength it would have walked through me, given enough time.”

“Erik, people make their own luck. Your skill and ability have been a counter for its super strength and rage. You were handicapped earlier. Would you have fought them the same way if Brianna and the other children weren't there?” Shanda asked.

Erik was silent, considering her words. He suddenly straightened up, his eyes opened wider. “No! I could have ducked that pole, and I would have emptied the other clip into the big thing, possibly killing it, but there were too many bystanders. I couldn't risk a full assault.” He was silent again, and then smiled a half smile at her. “You're amazing, you know that? I never would have looked at it that way.”

“That's because you're a male; men think differently than women do. You're always so pessimistic,” she added lightly as she kissed him. “You have a self-esteem problem, Mr. Knight. You need me more than you think.” She giggled as she playfully tapped the side of his head.

“I guess I can live with that,” he answered as he kissed her again.

* * * *

Erik and Shanda said their goodnights at his door. Normally, he would walk her to her car, but the thought of leaving his sleeping daughter alone, even for a second, was unthinkable. He made his way back into his bedroom to check on Brianna; she was sleeping soundly. Erik quietly stepped out the door, leaving it wide open should she awaken. He slowly eased his battered body down on his couch and quickly fell asleep.

* * * *

He was floating in a purple mist surrounded by dozens of strange beings. He knew he was on a battlefield; he could see beings fighting all around and above him. They were not human. The group he was with had shiny metallic skin, with blue pupiless eyes. The beings they were fighting were charcoal in color. He saw one approach where he was standing, and attack.

He raised his weapon to defend himself and was stunned to see that he, too, had the silvery flesh of those around him. He fought almost without thought, as if his body were being controlled by something outside of himself. He was a passive observer, only watching his body perform as some other power controlled his every move. He fought with extreme skill and confidence of purpose, performing feats of skill and strength that he knew were humanly impossible.

His weapon was a long silvery staff; it seemed to be alive, knowing his every thought and intention. The weapon seemed to purr and moan during the combat, almost relishing the feel and heat of battle.

Then, the battle was over. Hundreds of dead on both sides littered the battlefield beneath the great mountain. The dark skinned warriors were defeated; the survivors of their race were gathered and herded together like cattle.

He saw himself guarding one of the prisoners. He could experience the conflicting emotions that the creature he shared a body with was experiencing: Pain, sorrow, regret, and grim determination. The emotion was something so pure, so intense, that he knew it was beyond human capability.

The remnants of the defeated army were being forced into a large cave. They were shrieking in terror. He caught a glimpse of something already inside the cave. He could sense that the thing was not happy being where it was; it wanted desperately to escape. The captives pleaded with their captors for mercy, the fear and dread was so powerful that it registered overwhelmingly on his heightened senses.

As the last of the losing army was marshaled into the cave, he heard the screams grow louder, then the thundering boom of a gigantic door closing. As he walked away with the others he felt the concussion of a cave in; the defeated army was entombed, alive, with some unspeakable horror that terrified them greatly.

* * * *

He stood on the edge of a great cliff, overlooking a large newly-forged canyon, with others of his kind. The smell of the air was different to him, sweeter, less tainted. He was one among a sparse handful. The last of his race, he knew. They were all saddened by what they had done and even sadder by what they must now do. They had arrived to this world filled with hope, only to pollute it with their very existence. They did not belong. This world had made its own race; they were interfering in the natural progression. It could not be allowed.

It was then he noticed the device blinking several yards away from them. It began to blink faster and faster. He felt the fear and hesitation, then the searing heat and concussion of an explosion. The cliff they were standing on was blown apart. Those closest to the blast were killed by the force of the explosion, those further back plummeted into the depths of the great abyss to be buried by thousands of tons of dirt and rock, to remain an unknown, their passing marked by only one last act of great sacrifice.

Even as he fell to his death he knew what they were doing was right. It was not their planet. Their time had passed. It belonged to those others now, those things who hunted with sticks and spears. He knew they would evolve over the next million years. They were the rightful inheritors of this world; interference from outside influence would destroy the natural progression. The germs they carried were deadly to his kind, and the diseases that his kind carried had destroyed several scores of native tribes. There was no way for the species to live together.

The Earth had planted her seed and that seed bore fruit in these ape-like beings, not from their kind. They had left something of themselves within that seed, among a few select primitives. A gift from one dying, aged race to another young race on the beginning of its journey, a gift out of necessity to assure that race's future and survival.

He felt somewhat better; 20,000 years was a short life, but long enough to witness the end of his home world and the end of his species. More than enough, he thought to himself, and as his body struck the rock floor, it was the last thought he would ever have.

* * * *

Erik jumped, wide-awake; his body was covered with sweat and he could feel his heart pounding inside his chest. He sat up quickly, trying to recall the powerful images that had disturbed his slumber. He could only recall bits and pieces; he remembered the sensation of falling, of war, but little else. The vivid images from his subconscious dissipated from his waking mind like morning dew under a summer sun. He shook his head, not comprehending the eons-old genetic message that had been placed there.

“Same stupid dream all the time,” Erik muttered under his breath, and fell back to sleep.

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Chapter 8

Saturday, 9:15 a.m.

Shanda walked into Madame's and spotted Erik, Brianna, and a police officer from yesterday afternoon seated at Erik's booth in the back of the restaurant. Erik looked tired and she could sense, even from this distance, that he was stressing over the events of the past week. Brianna spotted her at the door and waved. Erik looked up, saw her, and gestured for her to come over. She walked over and seated herself in the chair at the end of the booth table.

“We were expecting you,” Erik said as she took off her jacket and draped it over the chair.

“I never miss a free meal,” she commented in Steve's direction.

Steve laughed at her jibe. “Just don't drain my wallet too much; I'm a working stiff just like you guys.”

Shanda placed her order and settled back in her chair; she felt something, some presence watching her. She looked around and saw the same waitress from last night staring at her from the cash counter. When their eyes met, the young girl turned her head away.

“What's the deal with that girl at the counter?” Shanda asked, somewhat annoyed.

Erik looked over and saw Alissa. “Oh, that's Alissa. She's a special friend of mine. She waits on my clients and helps me out with miscellaneous things around the office. She's very shy and usually keeps pretty much to herself,” Erik replied. “Why do you ask?”

“That's the second time I've caught her glaring in my direction.”

“Don't worry about it, she's probably just curious.” Erik placed his hand over hers. “She's really very nice, once you get to know her.”

It was obvious that they had all met to discuss the events of yesterday afternoon, but they held off in the presence of Brianna. The young girl was busy with her favorite breakfast of blueberry pancakes and hickory smoked bacon. Jeff had fussily poured the pancake batter to resemble the outline a kitten, and had arranged the bacon strips to form a bow tie. Brianna was carefully eating each ear piece in between nibbles of the bacon tie.

She was still very clingy, constantly looking up at Erik. The four sat exchanging mild conversation for the next fifteen minutes when Erik noticed Margaret and Richard enter the main dining area of the restaurant.

“Okay, Bri, it looks like Mom's here to pick you up. Should we have Alissa pack the rest for you to take home?” Erik asked.

“I don't wanna go, Dad,” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I wanna stay with you.”

“Honey, everything will be all right, I promise,” Erik whispered into her ear. “I'll even stop by tonight to check on you.”

“Do you promise?” she asked intently.

“Of course, silly. I'll be there. You just call me and let me know what time.”

“All right,” she answered reluctantly.

Alissa escorted Richard and Margaret over to his booth. Margaret rushed over and gave her daughter a huge hug. Her face spoke volumes of relief as she finally got the chance to hold her daughter.

“Oh, baby, I was so worried about you,” Margaret said.

“I'm fine, Daddy took care of me an’ my friends,” Brianna answered.

Margaret looked up at her ex-husband with an expression of gratitude.