Abnormals

Catherine woke up in a hospital bed, covered in bandages, but no longer in pain.

You’re awake! Mandie smiled, worry no longer plaguing Catherine.

“Why—” Catherine coughed a bit, very dry mouth. Why were you worried?

Mandie looked over at their sleeping mother, who awoke with a start.

“Cate! You’re—” Mom hesitated, clearly about to hug her. Catherine leaned over and finished the process.

You’re bleeding! Mandie revealed.

“What?” The question led to another coughing fit.

“Nurse!” Mom yelled.

“The pain killers must be working a little too well.” The nurse said, relatively unconcerned as she immediately started replacing the bandages. “Do you need some water?”

Catherine nodded.

“Where’s Dad?”

Mom and Mandie were conveniently silent as they stared at each other, probably having a conversation Catherine wasn’t privy to.

“He didn’t make it, kiddo.”

Uncle Henry put a hand on her shoulder.

“But you made it, and that’s what he would have wanted.”

Mandie wore a mask this time. She didn’t feel like occupying her time with avoiding cameras when the vents were narrower and harder to get through. Something about a bigger budget and more possible contaminants made people put in more filters.

She got in without incident. Keeping all the cameras in mind, she made her way to the security room, where someone was paid to look at screens for hours.

“Your attention really wanes after the first five minutes, doesn’t it?” she commented, leaning casually in the doorframe.

She made a subtle movement with her fingers and his walkie-talkie flew out of his hand before he could call for backup. After that his hand couldn’t reach the alarm button.

“How often do they call in to check on you?”

“Ten minutes.” Never.

“Makes things easier for me.”

She pulled the gun away from him before he could grab it, and all other weapons on him quickly followed, floating in the air like a halo around her.

“Now I can knock you out the easy way, or the hard way.”

The man charged at her, she dodged, and slammed him very hard against the wall.

“You’ll want to call the hospital after this.”

She tapped the side of the head, planting the suggestion so it would be the first thing he thought about when he woke up.

Without someone watching the cameras, there was less concern of being caught, and if she messed with the cameras, an alarm might be set off. The cameras were still a concern though.

Catherine placed her father’s last five journals and some extra supplies in the passenger seat. Desensitate should be somewhere in there. It was his last project with Eiselcorp, and she knew he had still been talking about it before he died. With Pete helping, it should be a breeze.

She was on the road to work before she realized it, trusting her reflexes to let her mind wander. The way to Pete’s apartment was mostly the same as the way to work, so she was unconcerned.

She was still more concerned with why Electron sent the sample to Pete. It wasn’t like he knew Catherine was The Voice of Reason, but how did he know Pete? How did Pete know Electron? Was Electron someone the diagnostic crew had helped, maybe before Catherine had worked there? Catherine had talked to Electron before though, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know she existed. Maybe that was the exact reason he hadn't sent it to her; she wasn’t the kindest damsel.

Maybe he just generally sent it to the institute, and Pete called dibs. She’d been busy that morning.

Her eye twitched for a second as a phone call came in. She blinked to answer it.

“Hey, totally random question, do security cameras have alarms?”

What was her sister getting into now?

“Not on them usually. There’s work being done to set them up so they sound the alarm upon any movement, but that’s—”

“So if I turned off the cameras from the main computer, I’d be great.”

“I would avoid it. While probably not alarmed, they might be password protected, or someone else could notice all of the cameras have been shut off.”

“Great, thanks, just have to trust people aren’t paying attention.”

“When you get arrested, do me a favor and break whatever phone this conversation on. I would like some plausible deniability.”

“We’ll see.”

“See what?”

No answer, and the buzzing in the back of her head that told her someone was on the other end stopped.

“I am not at fault for my sister asking me a question, and me answering it, then asking her to destroy evidence if she gets arrested, officer,” she rehearsed, “Oh, you came for a different reason, but now that you have a confession… accessory, you say?

“I even fail at conversations I make up. Mandie will be fine. She is the Untouchable Nightingale after all.”

Several reassurances later, Catherine was at Pete’s apartment. She grabbed the box with all of its heavy supplies, and made her way up the stairs. Elevators could be shoddy if she got distracted. Pete’s apartment was only on the third floor, she’d be fine.

She gently kicked the door in her best imitation of a knock, and a grinning Pete opened the door. He dressed the same as he did at work, with the only difference being he’d rolled up his sleeves to leave his forearms uncovered. Catherine felt under-dressed in a t-shirt and denim jeans.

“I sometimes forget how you dress when not at work,” he said.

“Yeah, I would offer to change, but we lack alternative options here.”

“It’s fine. My out of work clothes are just more uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“They’re for parties and clubs.”

“Oh…” Catherine nodded like she had any experience in that sphere.

Pete grabbed the box from her hands and set it on the table.

“So what’s in the box?”

“My father’s last five journals, some empty notebooks, a guide to code-breaking, and Greek and Latin to English dictionaries.”

Pete’s expression wasn’t quite disappointed, stunned, or even thrilled, but somehow all three at once.

“Your dad wrote in code?”

Catherine nodded.

“And in another language?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you don’t just have the code handy?”

Catherine grimaced.

“He made a different one for each book, sometimes multiple, but they come with clues, because dad wanted it to be a little easier for future historians.”

“But not for scientists who could make good use of his notes.”

“Well the notes he wrote for Eiselcorp are inaccessible, so we will have to make do.”

“So these are less thorough?”

“More thorough, he wrote in the journal first, then officially recorded it. Uncle Henry said he remembered better that way.”

“Your father was an interesting man.”

“You should see his notes on Mandie and I sometime.”

“Might be fun. Coffee first though.”

“Yes!”

Pete made really good coffee, especially with his espresso machine, but even with the machine at work. His was the only coffee she wouldn’t dump sugar into.

“Also, I’m making lasagna, hope you don’t mind.”

“Lasagna is perfect. Everything you make is great.”

“Thanks. That means a lot from the woman who said my hypotheses about inherited abilities were pure conjecture.”

“They were, and I apologized when you finally got satisfactory proof, did I not?”

“You did.”

Pete handed her a warm mug of coffee, and grabbed the top journal, taking a minute to look at the outside.

“This is the last one, isn’t it?”

“Yes. How did you figure that out?”

He showed the side of the book where all the pages could be seen.

“Writing makes the paper not sit straight. So you can tell this one doesn’t have writing all the way through.” he slid his finger through the clear line of untouched pages.

“Maybe you want to start with one that has more writing in it to reference,” she proposed.

Pete handed her the book, and grabbed the one at the bottom.

“So this is the fifth to last journal?”

“Should be. I try to keep them in order, not the easiest task when the dates are in code.”

Pete’s eyes widened, but grabbed a book, pen, and paper, and got to work.

“I set up pillows near the couch if you want to work on the floor. You seem to prefer it there.”

It was easier for her cybernetic leg to rest straight than bent. She hadn’t realized how obvious she’d been, not that she intended to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I probably will. The reference materials are mostly for you, so you can keep them over here.”

“Perfect.”

Catherine quickly engrossed herself in the material. Even the irrelevant information was fascinating, though some of the info on Mandie and herself was uncomfortable to read. As much as she loved her father, she gave a silent vow not to study her own children to his extent.

She afforded herself a glance every now and then to Pete, who had put on his glasses by now. It made it harder to see if his eyes were focusing, but the occasional scribbles on the notepad were reassuring.

She’d been so engrossed in her father’s notes on cybernetics, though over a decade behind where she was, she hadn’t noticed when she automatically answered the phone until Mandie started speaking.

“So if the only way to your objective was through a door with an eye-reader, how would you go about resolving that?”

Catherine checked to see how busy Pete was, and found him already staring at her. Had he picked up on the phone signals?

“Bathroom?”

He pointed to the short hall. “First on the left.”

“Thanks.”

She shut the door in a hurry.

“Your explanations are getting as long-winded as mine, Mandie.”

“Question stands.”

Catherine rubbed her temples.

“Simple jailbreak, mostly. It will cost your phone, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because when you break a system through another system, the courier suffers damage too.”

Catherine felt the connection as the phone got close enough. Her subconscious sorted all the parts she could manipulate and put them in front of her. She grabbed at the database, smashing it apart, and felt the connection shatter as well.

“Well that resolves any distractions.”

Mandie wasn’t sure what to do now. Catherine hadn’t actually explained what to do. She tried to reach out on their other connection, but only got the faintest impressions of her sister’s knowledge. Those instincts brought Mandie’s eye to the scanner. It lit up green, then the door swung open.

“Okay. I guess it accepts me now.”

She closed the door behind her, and descended.

The first thing to hit was the smell of not death, but its closest relative. Whatever she smelled was still alive while it rotted. A headache set in as she felt the almost minds of dozens of the creatures reach into her.

She collapsed on the stairs.

Dozens. Where did they come from? Who made them? How were they even made?

Didn’t matter.

She was here to confirm or deny, and bring the evidence to her sister as yet another reason to get away from Henry Eisel, and maybe ruin some of his property in the process.

She looked for a place where files were stored, trying to ignore the creatures in cells that barely fit them. She shared a glance with several. Like before, their gazes seemed like they were only half there.

No information conveniently laid out, no obvious file boxes. The information was probably in a completely different room, and she’d wasted her skeleton key on this one.

“And how exactly did one get out,” A voice from her childhood asked. What was Henry Eisel doing here?

“Please sir, the creatures psychically attack anyone who enters. We have to send the feeders in with power suppression.”

“I’ll be fine, doctor.”

Technopaths with their psychic resistance.

She had to get out of site. She looked around for something. No desk or cabinet she could find, but there was an empty cell. She slid in and kept listening.

“I suspect one of the subjects developed teleportation.”

“It was rampaging, not disappearing and reappearing.”

“I’m not sure it was able to sustain another jump. Most teleporters exhaust themselves by carrying one more person, and a subject’s mass is far greater than two people.”

“Yet it was still able to run as far as it did.”

“The subjects do seem to have an instinctive understanding of their limits. Powers are like a muscle, they can feel how far it is capability wise, so even if they don’t feel exhausted—”

“Spare me the technobabble.”

Mandie felt something warm on her cheek, then heard the breathing.

Suddenly visible, the creature hung from the ceiling with long arms that allowed its head to hold just in front of Mandie’s. It was razor thin, with it’s face in a permanent smile, though most of its features were covered by matted hair.

She had a cellmate.

Initially, Pete assumed the cipher on the pages meant this was likely in Greek, but he immediately had to change it to the Roman alphabet to actually decipher, which turned into romanizations of Greek words.

To think he looked up to this man growing up. There was a fine line between eccentric and obnoxious. Harold Piec was quickly moving into the latter category.

Cate suddenly gasped. Pete turned to her.

“What?”

She ran up and shook her notepad at him. He grabbed it and read aloud.

“Henry is still making it. He sold it to the military. When I asked about it, he offered me my job back in exchange for ending the program. I almost said yes, but I can’t trust him anymore. He knew the likelihood of hypermutation was too high to be safe, and he still sold it. I can’t trust my friend anymore.

“Is he talking about desensitate?” Pete asked.

“Keep reading it.”

“I have a sample in the lab, and someone who luckily only mutated one extra time, but her symptoms are getting worse. One of Helena’s old friends is willing to help blow the whistle. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Pete took his glasses off.

“He’s absolutely talking about desensitate.”

“Confirmation bias.”

“If it was his last project, then it might have been the reason he quit.”

“I—”

Of course Catherine wasn’t celebrating. Her father had just called into question her godfather. The entry even made it seem like Eisel might have been involved in Harold’s death.

“Sorry, I got ahead of myself. I think the lasagna is probably cool enough by now. Let’s eat and get back to this.”

Cate nodded.

Things got uncomfortably quiet as they ate.

“I wonder if I can find the woman’s name in the archives. If she came in, it was probably for a power related check-up.”

“It probably disappeared when the explosion happened.”

Pete took a good look at the burn scar that covered half of Catherine’s face. Maybe he should have insisted on taking the last book.

“Of course, guess I forgot about that part.”

“I think I’m in love!” Jaime slammed open the door. “Oh good, you two are still dressed. Hi, Kitty.”

“Hi. Still dressed?” Catherine asked. There was no way this wasn’t going to lead to disaster.

“Well I only assumed when Pete mentioned your date, that it was well, a date.”

Catherine laughed, bending over from it. Pete wasn’t sure it was that ridiculous.

“You’re right,” Jaime said, “You’re way out of his league.”

“What’s this talk about being in love?” Pete asked, “I thought you said if you came back here, it would be a bad night.”

“Oh the date stood me up, but the bartender was a riot.”

“It’s their job to be nice,” Pete said.

“You didn’t see how he was looking at me, Pete.”

“How?” Catherine asked.

“Like he didn’t want to look away. Like Pete when he’s got that powered science magazine thing.”

“He looked at you with intellectual curiosity?” Pete asked.

“Where’s one of those pillows you set up for Kitty?”

Catherine stood up suddenly.

“I think I need some fresh air. You two feel free to continue your argument. It sounded productive.”

Hi.

Obviously the thing didn’t understand Mandie. The first one didn’t either.

She felt a headache coming on, narrowly avoiding making a noise about it. They really did attack anyone who came in range, not that she could blame them.

“Why did it run to a wrestling ring and just stop?” Eisel asked.

“It might have been that so many minds focused on the same subject attracted it sir. They all seem to have psychic abilities.”

“What stopped it from going to a college, or the middle of a traffic jam?”

“We’ve both been to college, sir. Half of those kids are spacing out. As for a traffic jams, the focus is an angry one?”

“What is it with scientists and never answering a damn question?”

It hurts.

Who thought that? It wasn’t Mandie’s own thoughts, obviously, even if the headache was getting worse. She closed her eyes to stop seeing the thing in front of her, which was still smiling.

“What?” The scientists asked. Mandie must have missed something.

“You heard me, Drough—”

It Hurts!

“But the years of research—”

“Created duds, every last one of them. No communication, and when one breaks out it doesn’t even cause any injuries worth the fuss.”

“But our mutual employer—”

“Won’t respond well to losing a resource we’ve put even more work into, and—”

IT HURTS!

I get it, it hurts!

Who was she even telling this to?

The creatures eyes dilated, with a widening smile. She could feel pride radiating off of it.

I can understand you, now. she realized.

The headaches weren’t attacks, were they? Of course a non-psychic wouldn’t hear them, they were just broadcasting their feelings. Words needed a telepath to translate them on one end.

The creature turned it’s gaze to where Eisel and Drough were arguing.

They changed us.

Changed you from what?

This creature had a life taken from them. They all did. And she’d helped kill one.

Homeless.

You were homeless?

No one to miss us.

Mandie covered her mouth and breathed deep.

Human. They were human. She’d led a human being to get shot by police. Somehow that seemed crueler than just shooting them herself.

“You’re the only one who will miss them, Drough. They’re a burden to resources, both mine and the co—”

Not your fault.

Like that was reassuring.

They were looking for a telepath, weren’t they? she asked.

They nodded.

And when they found one, I led them to their death.

Death is nice.

What are you talking about. You have to live, because otherwise—

“If I have to order you again…”

“Of course. Fumigation, then clear out the evidence.”

“Why wait?”

“They’ll respond defensively to the chemicals required to clear out. We may damage the whole lab.”

“So we have to make them stop breathing before we can remove them.”

Disgusting pieces of—

Death.

No no no! I can get you out of here. My sister—

You don’t want her dragged into this.

When did it get in her memories? She couldn’t sense it in her mind after ignoring the headaches.

She would help though.

She can’t

You’re just—

Death!

You don’t deserve to die!

Why not? We want to. More voices in her head. She couldn’t just let them—

Alarms. A lot of them.

“How long do we have?” Eisel yelled.

“About half an hour before the whole lab is fumigated.”

“Such a waste that we have to destroy so much hard work to get rid of one failure.”

“Biohazard protocols.”

She waited until she heard the door click, and ran after them. The door was locked. No eye reader on the inside.

“Dammit.”

Someone had to make sure the security guard wasn’t stuck in the building when it got fumigated either.

The door unlocked, and she turned to her long-armed friend, waving from their cell.

Please? she begged.

They shook their head. Mandie sighed, trying to relieve the burden already placing itself for leaving them.

Thank you. They said.

Now she just had to escape a building full of Eiselcorp employees.