Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA (4 page)

Bryn didn’t often find herself overwhelmed by a personality, but Mrs. Padilla, from her perfume to her opinions, could only be described as ‘strong.’ Mia indulged her mother for maybe ten minutes as the older woman prattled on, bouncing from one inane subject to another with hardly a segue, and then Mia said baldly, “I need money.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Padilla looked affronted. “For goodness sake, Mia, what a crass thing to interrupt me with. And in front of our guest, too.”

“Well, I apologize, Mother. I realize you’ve insulated yourself from the world, but even you couldn’t have failed to notice the riots.”

“Of course I noticed. You don’t need to be insulting. However, I’m at a loss as to what the state of the world has to do with your needing money.”

Mia inhaled deeply and let it out in a slow sigh. Bryn knew that tactic well; it was always best to pause and regroup after a parent pushed your buttons, especially if you wanted something from them.

“You’ve heard about the super typhoid?” Mia asked.

Mrs. Padilla’s head went back. “That’s why you’re here. I should have known you wouldn’t come to New York just to see me.”

Mia flinched a little, but let her mother’s dig slide. “Yes, my team was called in to identify the pathogen, which we have, but my job isn’t done. We need to find a way to stop it, and until we do, I have to protect myself. That’s why I need the money.”

“Protect yourself how?”

“Xenos are immune.”

“Xenos..? You’re not thinking about getting a xenograft, are you? Because
that’s
out of the question.”

Mia clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and pressed her knuckles to her lips. In a tightly controlled voice, she said, “Mom. Every single solitary non-xeno who gets this thing dies, but not xenos. Whatever it is that affords them immunity has got to come from their grafts. Getting a graft after you catch it doesn’t help – I know, because I watched a man who’d gotten it done die.”

She lifted her head. “This is not just for me. You and Dad need to do it, too, and you need to do it fast. There aren’t enough bioengineered animals for everyone in the world to get grafted. Demand is high right now, and as far as the public knows, the super typhoid is still only just a rumor. Imagine what will happen when the government is forced to admit the truth.”

Mrs. Padilla didn’t respond right away. Bryn watched her face as she processed Mia’s words. A wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows smoothed out as doubt gave way to stubbornness in a brief thinning of the lips.

“I suppose you can confirm which rumors are true, then, right?” Mrs. Padilla asked. “For instance, the news reported that a xenofreak knew he had it and was spreading it on purpose, but that he was dead now, and the likelihood of getting infected was really low.”

“The risk is low now,” Mia said, “because not all xenos are infected and the majority who are, aren’t contagious. But like I said, everyone’s rushing out to get grafted. That may reduce
their
risk, but it increases the xeno population in general as well as the odds that someone you pass on the street might be a carrier.”

Mrs. Padilla sighed dramatically. “I don’t speak for your father, but I’m certain he’ll agree that he and I are not in danger. However, given your profession, I will concede that you should probably protect yourself. How much money do you need?”

Mia looked at Bryn, who shrugged. Scott told Mia ten thousand would get her a small graft, but that was before they knew everyone was trying to get one. Plus, she’d have to bribe her way to the front of the line now.

“A hundred thousand?” Mia said.

Mrs. Padilla’s jaw dropped open. “What? Isn’t that a bit steep? I assume you need cash. I don’t think your father keeps that much in the safe.”

“Whatever you have then, and I’ll have to hope it’s enough.”

Mrs. Padilla shook her head, but bustled over to a painting on the wall. Within a short amount of time, she’d opened the safe behind the painting and removed a thick envelope. She took a moment to thumb through the bills inside before handing it to her daughter. “Fifty thousand. Best I can do on short notice.”

Mia gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Mom. It’ll have to do.”

“Honey…are you sure you’ve thought this out? I mean, is it going to bother you, having something foreign permanently attached to your body?”

Bryn had wondered the same thing given Mia’s germophobia.

Mia’s lips twisted wryly. “I hope not, because I’ll be stuck with it.”

Xenografts were meant to be permanent, but technically, they could be removed. Bryn flashed on the horrific memory of seeing Carla’s bloody xenograft after it had been ripped from her body.

She and Mia started to leave, but Mrs. Padilla stopped them before they called the elevator. She opened a nearby door and stepped into a walk-in closet. After a minute or two of rustling around, she reappeared with two garments draped over her arm. She handed a classic wool overcoat in a sedate navy blue to Mia, and turned to Bryn with a shorter coat in a heavy black fabric with an attached hood.

“This was in fashion for about two seconds a decade ago,” she said. “But it might come in handy in case you need to be discreet.”

Bryn and Mia put the coats on, murmuring their thanks. The hood on the black coat was so wide Bryn was able to lift it over her quills easily, and it was lined with something silky, yet tough enough that it slid right over her quills without getting stuck on them. She looked at herself in the entryway mirror, pleased. The sides of the hood draped elegantly on either side of her face like a cloak.

“One more thing, darling girl,” Mrs. Padilla said as Mia held her finger out to press the elevator call button. “Don’t, um…don’t get anything obvious, okay?” Her eyes shifted to Bryn before her gaze dropped quickly to the floor. “Just…get something small that you can hide under your clothing. They’re killing each other out there. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt because someone saw your graft and thought you were…”

Mia laughed. “A xenofreak?”

Mrs. Padilla’s answering smile was strained. “Just be careful.”

“I will.”

Scott knew nothing about savants other than that they were uncommon. At least, that was what Shasta told him after he’d mentioned that the programmer who’d helped Padme create Fournier’s nanoneuron program was supposedly a savant. And now here that savant was, refusing to come along quietly; refusing, in fact, to come along with them
at all
. Scott was all for just forcing the squirrelly guy to cooperate, but Lo seemed to think she could reason with him, so he stood back and let her try.

Savvy’s main complaint was that he didn’t want to leave his ‘stuff.’

“Your stuff’ll be fine,” Lo assured him. “Has anyone but us been down here?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Savvy said. He didn’t look at her when he spoke, just like he hadn’t looked at Scott when they’d first met.

“How is it irrelevant?” Lo asked.

“I’m not worried about someone stealing anything.”

“What
are
you worried about?” Scott asked. It was clear that with Savvy you had to ask specific questions.

A furtive look crossed the savant’s face. “I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Lo said, the patience in her tone sounding thinner. “Maybe we can bring your stuff with us.”

“It’s not, um, portable.”

Scott suspected Savvy was not only lying, but was hiding something.

Lo gestured to the tent. “We’ve got a big car. I’m sure we can accommodate whatever you’ve got in there.”

Savvy gave an abrupt shake of his head, but he also glanced involuntarily somewhere to the left of Scott. Scott shone his flashlight in that direction and was surprised to find an intact wall. Another path had been cleared, and it led straight to a closed door in that wall.

“What’s in there?” Scott asked.

Savvy wrung his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot like a child in desperate need of a restroom.

“Nothing,” he said, but Scott already knew – there’d only been one heavy wooden door in the facility. Behind that wall was whatever was left of Fournier’s personal suite. Months ago, Scott had waited for Fournier in the reception area behind that door. He’d also been inside his office and the large bedroom that belonged to Fournier’s ‘daughter,’ Nicola. He’d been told by Bryn that Fournier’s bedroom was back there, too, not to mention the entrance to the second tunnel.

Scott took a step towards the door, but Savvy lunged for him with an agitated, “No!”

Scott dropped his flashlight and turned, claws fully extended. “I
don’t
advise it.”

Lo had spotlighted them, and Scott saw from Savvy’s astonishment that the savant hadn’t known who he was talking to.

“Oh…oh!” Savvy said, relief suffusing his face. “You’re Cougar. You’re…” He blinked, and the relief changed to confusion. “XIA?”

“Yes, to both,” Scott said. “And I’m going to find out what you’re hiding behind that door, so I suggest you make it easy on us all by just telling me.”

Savvy lifted clenched fists to his face and his shoulders rounded as if he was trying to disappear. When he began to mutter to himself, Scott picked up his flashlight, writing the savant off as no threat. But as soon as he took another step towards the door, Savvy shouted, “Nickie!
Run
!”

Lo leapt forward to restrain the savant as Scott pulled his gun from its holster with his free hand. The door to Fournier’s suite opened and someone rushed out, right for him. He almost fired, but caught a glimpse of a mussed blonde head and realized the ‘stuff’ Savvy was protecting was really a young woman.

Nicola Fournier ran up to Savvy and put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Felson. We can trust them.”

The address Scott had given them was in New Rochelle, a small shop in a nondescript strip mall. The neon sign in the window wasn’t on, but the name of the place was Koo Koo Bamboo Tattoo. Bryn and Mia hovered on the fringes of a crowd of about thirty people gathered outside the front door. Most of the waiting patrons were watching a woman moving around inside as the clock ticked closer to opening time.

Mia looked worried. “There’re too many people.”

“Scott said it wouldn’t take very long,” Bryn replied. “We might have to wait awhile, but you’ll get in.”

“I hope you’re right. I have to get back to work.” Mia’s holophone had rung several times on the drive until she’d asked Bryn to mute it. None of the calls had been from Scott.

Bryn was grateful for the coat Mrs. Padilla had lent her, not only for the warmth, but because the hood completely hid her quills and no one paid her any attention. She looked around at the faces of the people waiting, some of whom were bundled up like they’d been here for hours. None of them had ink showing and based on their attire and the vehicles in the parking lot, most looked belonged to the middle class. She picked up on the desperation in their faces and imagined the majority had emptied their savings accounts to be here. One woman clasped the hands of her mittened children, and another had a baby strapped to her back. Bryn thought about the children and old folks at Edgemere who’d been exposed to the virus. All had died.

Four more people showed up, all men, and much tougher-looking than the rest of the crowd. She didn’t need to see their grafts to peg them as xenofreaks. Bryn’s quills lifted of their own accord, and for a moment she almost ignored the sense of danger that prompted it. The newcomers had arrived in the same vehicle, but had split up, casually boxing the crowd in.

She grabbed Mia’s hand and tugged on it, saying rather loudly, “I guess it’s not a good day to get a tat after all.” Mia gave her a strange look, but allowed Bryn to pull her past the nearest of the men. He ran cold brown eyes over them like he was assessing their worth, and Bryn suddenly wished she wasn’t wearing the expensive coat.

She and Mia wove around the vehicles in the full parking lot and got into Mia’s rental. After she shut the door, Bryn said urgently, “Drive away like everything’s fine.”

“Is it those men?” Mia asked, starting the car but not backing out. “One of them had a xenograft, Bryn. I’m sure they aren’t going to attack those people just because they want to become xenos.”

“I don’t think they’re going to attack them for that. I think they’re going to rob them. Every one of those people is carrying cash. A lot of cash.”

Mia’s face fell. “Oh, jeez, you’re right. Those poor people.”

Bryn used Mia’s phone to dial 911 as Mia drove to the far exit so she wouldn’t have to go past the doomed crowd. This time when the automaton came up and told them Emergency Services was overwhelmed, Bryn left a detailed message, doubting as she did so that the police would take her seriously. She was reporting a crime that hadn’t yet happened, and they didn’t have the resources to investigate based on her suspicion.

They drove aimlessly down the nearly deserted main boulevard for about five minutes before Bryn spotted an open bistro and suggested they stop for lunch. They went inside and agreed to get their sandwiches to go. Neither of them felt like lingering in a public place, especially not a place with a cash register.

When they were back in the car, Mia handed Bryn her phone and said, “Look up some other tattoo parlors, would you?”

“Why?” Bryn knew from her father’s lectures that a person could legally
have
a xenograft, but the surgeons who provided the service weren’t licensed to do so, therefore all of the facilities were underground. “They’re not going to admit it if they have a xenosurgeon on staff.”

“I know. We’re not going to call them, just drive by and if there’s a bunch of people there, we’ll know, right?”

It seemed like a good enough plan, if only to kill time until Scott called and gave them another location, so Bryn did a search. They drove past three of the tattoo places she found, but opted not to go near the rest. As soon as they entered those neighborhoods, they hightailed it right back out again. The unrest was sporadic, but seemed to be gearing up again, just like Shasta had predicted. After an hour it became clear they weren’t going to find another tattoo parlor slash xenograft den, so Mia headed back to the highway.

Bryn was just about to ask where they were going, but then they drove past a store that seemed to have an awful lot of customers. She read the sign on the building, ‘Scaly Companion Pet Store,’ and jabbed a finger toward the sidewalk. “Pull over, right there!”

Mia slammed on the brakes and managed to grab a parking spot on the street. “Why exactly are we stopping here?”

“Did you see that pet store? It had a ton of people inside. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Regular pets for sale out front, bioengineered animals in the back.” Just saying it made Bryn cringe a little inside, despite the fact that animals had been slaughtered, eaten, and used as clothing by humans and their ancestors for well over a hundred thousand years.

Mia opened her door. “Let’s check it out.”

As they walked back down the block, Bryn adjusted the hood of her coat so it covered the quills around her face. She’d lost quite a few when she’d head-butted that man, but her lopsided head wasn’t her concern. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her and possibly bring unwanted attention to Mia, who just wanted to get in, get out, and get on with finding a cure for the super typhoid.

A bell jingled when they opened the door and several people looked around to see who’d come in. It was oppressively warm inside the store and a heavy animal stink made Mia pull a tissue from her purse and hold it over her nose. There were at least two dozen people milling about, not even looking at the glass terrariums housing snakes and lizards and tiny, brightly colored frogs. The people all appeared to be waiting.

“Do you see any mice?” Mia asked quietly as they walked down the wide central aisle. An indoor pond with rocks and water plants housed several dozen turtles.

“They probably have them in the back,” Bryn replied. “Regular ones for the snakes and bioengineered ones for…us.”

Mia nodded, but didn’t seem reassured. A mouse xenograft was cheap, and generally didn’t spur as much outrage in the general public as some of the more exotic ones. The lack of furry creatures in this store had probably spooked her. Mia was definitely not the sort to get a snakeskin graft.

They made their way to the counter and waited as the man in front of them concluded his business. Bryn nudged Mia and nodded in the direction of the man’s head. A white gauze bandage on the back of his neck peeked out from under his shirt. When the man left, they stepped up to the counter.

The clerk was thin and balding, with a narrow face. His nametag identified him as “Turk.”

“How can I help you, ladies?”

Still holding the tissue to her face, Mia said, “I’d like an, um, uh…”

“You lookin’ for a xenograft?” he asked dryly.

The ends of the tissue fluttered as she exhaled in relief. “Yes.”

“No can do. Not today, not tomorrow. Probably not even next week. We got customers out the ying-yang.”

“I can pay.”

Turk’s eyebrows rose. “So can a lot of people.”

“I can pay more than them.”

“Yeah? You got thirty thousand bucks? Cash?”

Bryn and Mia looked at each other. Mia said, “Will that bump me to the head of the line?”

Turk made a ‘tch’ sound, and drawled, “Sure will.”

Mia smiled again. “Then yes. I have thirty thousand ‘bucks.’”