White crows, p.28
White Crows, page 28
“Yeah, fuck, it was like being back in the dome.”
“Let him down, Trixie,” Hal called.
“You believe him?”
“Yeah. Red, leave the doc alone.”
“Shit, it was so much fun watching him dance.”
Cam plunged to the ground, Red shot one final flame at Rincon, and Hal shoved Mira away from him. As she stumbled back, a tingling raced up and down her arms and fingers, but it felt like a reminder, nothing more, that she should have summoned the power earlier, when the four Crows had raced down those porch steps. Terror had held her back. Terror that she wouldn’t be able to duplicate what she’d done at the house when Hal had been sleeping off the morphine. Terror that he would kill her, Rincon and Cam before she could act.
Terror.
And fuck, she’d blown it.
Mira’s despair deepened. It was possible that she and Rincon might not survive this. Or if they did, the Crows would hold them indefinitely as their point people in this century. Rincon would be their personal physician and the two of them would be the ones who went out into the world to purchase stuff—houses, businesses, maybe even mundane shit like groceries.
She wouldn’t see Annie or Sheppard again. Annie would take over the bookstore. Rincon would never see his wife, kids or grandkids. Essentially, their lives would be over, stolen from them by the Crows, and all because her fear of Hal and his ability had prevented her from acting as soon as they’d raced down those steps.
Her feelings about Hal had solidified the instant he attacked the dolphin. She didn’t just fear him, she hated him. Could she somehow use that emotion to overcome her fear of him and repeat what she’d done at the house? She didn’t know. That earlier situation had been different because Hal had been sleeping off the morphine and the other Lethals had been so drunk.
But.
2
Hal snapped his fingers at Mira. “Help the doc, Mira. Make sure Cam’s okay.”
She gave a mock salute and hurried over to Rincon. Hal felt enormous satisfaction that she did what he told her to. He liked it when women did that. It rarely had happened with Wind and only when she thought she had something to gain. And look at how Red had defied him time and again since they’d gotten to the twenty-first.
Mira helped Rincon sit up, get to his feet and by then, Cam was standing. “I’m fine, just got the wind knocked outta me,” Cam said.
“That was the point, you lying sack of shit,” Trixie said.
Cam walked over to her, got right in her face, and camouflaged himself as people Trixie apparently recognized, one face after another, men and women and children. Trixie jerked back and started crying. Then sobbing. “Stop it. Please, stop it, Cam.”
Hal assumed these camouflages were of people Trixie loved or had loved. He’d never seen her cry before. And he’d never seen Cam do something like this. It intrigued him. Within seconds, Cam had reduced Trixie to a blubbering mass of emotions.
Cam looked amused. “Stop? Don’t you want to know what your dad would say, Trix?” He camouflaged himself as a tall, black, handsome man with a mustache. In a completely different voice, he said, “My beautiful Trixie. Don’t ever compromise what makes you a White Crow.”
She cried harder.
“Or your mom, Trixie.” Cam now looked like a chronically fatigued woman in her late forties whose raspy voice, thinness and obvious fatigue spoke of some underlying disease. “You’re the reason I’m dying…”
“I didn’t make you sick!” Trixie shouted at the camouflage of her mother.
Hal grabbed Cam’s shoulder. “Hey, you made your point.”
“Did I?” Cam wrenched back, Hal’s hand slipped off his shoulder, and he turned. Now that Cam faced Hal, he suddenly camouflaged himself as Hal’s father, the replica so stunning and accurate that Hal stumbled back. When the camouflage spoke, it was in Hal’s father’s voice, a deep baritone. “The warehouse belongs to you and your recruits, Hal. All I ask is that you Crows become a force of good in this fucked up world.”
Then Cam looked like himself again. “You pretty much failed at that, Hal. Want to see and hear more?”
Hal felt the beast within slamming around, eager to get out, to liquify Cam. But he restrained it. “Show me Wind.”
“Ah, right. Wind.”
Cam suddenly looked exactly like her, that thick, shiny black hair falling to her shoulders, hair that Hal had loved drawing through his fingers, that seductive mouth, the intense dark eyes. “Hal.” That soft, melodious voice was Wind’s. “I’ve missed you.”
The sound of that voice nearly tore his heart apart and he moved toward her, desperate to hug her, hold her, kiss her. But Red suddenly lunged between them.
“Fuck it. That is NOT Wind, Hal. That imposter isn’t my sister.”
Cam looked like himself again and Hal felt like grinding his fist into Cam’s smile.
“Kinda sucks, doesn’t it, Hal.”
“Fuck off, Cam.”
Liz landed on the seawall, quickly transformed into her human self, and marched over to Hal. “We don’t need them.”
She sounded indignant, cocky, and Hal disliked it. “Yeah, we actually do. We need the doc for Squirt. We need Cam because he’s a Crow. And we need Mira—and the doc—as our go to people once we’re off the island.”
“I’m calling for a vote,” Red shouted. “We eliminate the three of them now.”
Red and Liz waved their arms wildly and chanted, “Yes, yes.” No one else joined in.
“The majority wins,” Hal said.
“Like before, Squirt didn’t vote,” Red said. “So if he did, what would split the tie?”
“Me,” Cam said. “Would you like to see your parents, Red? Lovers? Friends?”
“Give me a fucking break,” Red said.
“Okay. Chew on this one.” He camouflaged himself as a woman onstage somewhere in a strange, colorful costume, her hair wild as she sang, “When the moon is in the seventh house And Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars…”
Cam paused and Hal thought Red looked on the verge of a meltdown. She stammered, “How can you…”
“Get over it, Red.” His appearance shifted to his own again. “This is what I do. You’re the descendant of the woman who sang that in the 1968 production of the Broadway musical Hair. She’s a part-time resident in the keys. Hal is Mira’s descendant. And I’m descended from Ian Rincon and…”
Cam threw out his arms, a gesture that encompassed all of them in the backyard and maybe the entire island and the rest of the Florida Keys, the state, the country… Hal didn’t know, couldn’t tell.
“We’re all connected,” Cam said. “Those of us who made it through are related to someone in this time who is alive now. That’s why we made it through and the others didn’t.”
“My God,” Rincon said softly. “How’re we connected, Cam?”
“Sons and grandsons and great grandsons many times removed.”
“Absurd,” Hal snapped. He was the only Crow connected to someone alive now.
“Is it?” Cam snapped. “Would you like me to spell out the other connections I’ve uncovered, Hal?”
“No. You’re a demented old man and I’ve heard enough of your bullshit. Nico, is the car still shrouded?”
“Hold on,” Trixie said, sniffling. “Just hold on a minute. I’m curious. Who am I descended from, Cam?”
“A young man who used to work at a library in Miami,” Cam said, and his appearance shifted again into that of a muscular black man in his early twenties.
“I want to meet him.”
“He left Florida.”
“And me?” Liz asked.
Cam shook his head. “I haven’t found that information. I think you made it through, Liz, because Hal is like a father or big brother for you.”
“True, he is. But c’mon, Cam.” She giggled. “Isn’t there a human somewhere in my lineage who fucked a condor?”
“More than likely there’s a human in your lineage whose DNA was an experiment,” Cam said.
Hal had seen enough. Cam was showing off. “We’re wasting time. Is the car still out front, Nico?”
“Yeah. That was another shit show, man.”
“What about you, Nico?” Cam asked. “You want to know?”
“Not really. But I suppose you’re going to show me, anyway.”
“Nope. Not worth my time.”
Nico pointed a long, skinny white finger at Cam. “I really dislike you, old man.”
Hal needed to get them and himself back on track. And fast. “What’s the news on the last ferry out, Nico?”
Nico’s eyes remained latched onto Cam for a moment, then he checked his phone. “It’s been delayed for two hours. Canine search parties are going neighborhood to neighborhood, house to house, looking for holdouts and probably for us, too, although the article doesn’t say that. The last ferry will leave around ten thirty tonight.”
“Says who?” Hal asked.
“Jon O’Hara, in his latest Gazette post.”
“Okay, I’ll accept that. Jon’s posts have been reliable.”
“Things have changed since his early articles,” Trixie said. “Maybe he’s trying to manipulate us. Maybe it’s a ploy.”
“If that’s what his post says, then it’s true,” Mira said. “Jon doesn’t lie.”
“Shut up, hostage,” Trixie said. “No one asked you.”
“Check the ferry schedule, see what it says,” Hal instructed Nico.
He tapped at his phone. “Yeah, ten thirty.”
“Good. It’s seven twenty-two now,” Hal said. “That gives us time to eat and get Squirt into the apartment so the doc can take a look at him before we board that last ferry. Can you get Squirt by yourself, Nico?”
“Sure. Be back shortly.”
He trotted off toward the front gate, and Hal and Trixie nudged Mira and the doc along in front of them. He figured the two of them were planning their next attempt at a coup, an overthrow, some epic battle. Fine. Let them try. Convinced that the telekinetic shit she’d pulled off at the house was an anomaly, a one-timer, he no longer saw Mira as an adversary. He could manipulate her any way he wanted. She was his.
Yeah? You sure about that?
He’d thought he could liquify her at any point back there by the seawall, during their confrontation, but when he’d tried, nothing had happened. Why? Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. Or maybe he’d needed to recharge completely. And why hadn’t she been able to duplicate what she’d done in the house when she and Rincon had escaped? Was it due to their blood connection?
Hal never had run up against any boundary or limitation to his ability, except for the need to recharge, so he didn’t have any definite answer. He had only theories, suppositions, what ifs and maybes. It all disturbed him.
3
Inside the apartment, Mira’s despair deepened. She disliked being in these small rooms with a bunch of Crows. The air felt cramped and much too warm, as if each of them radiated extreme body heat. Hal shoved her into a chair at the kitchen table, Trixie jerked out another chair and motioned for Rincon to sit. Red threw open the fridge doors. “I’m ravenous.”
“We’re going to fix dinner,” Hal announced, and eyed the table and sink. “I can see you three have already eaten.”
“We snacked,” Mira said.
Mira glanced at Rincon. He was like home to her. He was familiar and comforting, a beacon that lit up not only her life, but her family history through Nadine, back to Cuba. In the contours of his face, she found their personal connections—his eulogy for Nadine, his and Carmen’s help after Hurricane Danielle, their presence at her wedding. He was in this situation because of her. Because of her fear of Hal.
Guilt and despair somersaulted inside her, she felt sick inside. Mira reached out and touched the back of Rincon’s hand. I’m sorry, she mouthed. I should’ve kept you out of this.
He squeezed her fingers quickly and shook his head. We can do this. One by one.
She didn’t think he meant they should—or even could—pick them off one by one. That obviously hadn’t worked earlier when her fear of Hal had crippled her. But if they somehow could separate the Crows from each other, maybe she could take them one at a time, even if Hal was present.
“Trixie, how about if you and I cook,” Hal suggested. “That way there’s no chance for the doc to drug any of us.”
“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t have my medical bag,” Rincon said. “It’s still at the house you destroyed, Hal. So I’m drugless.”
“Shit,” Hal spat. “Then how the hell can you treat Squirt?”
“I can’t.”
“Then someone has to return to the house and get it.”
Mira didn’t think it had been intentional on Rincon’s part. He practiced medicine according to his Hippocratic oath. But the oversight might be in their favor.
“Have Nico go back and get it,” Red said, removing items from the fridge, setting them on the counter.
“Have me get what?” Nico came through the door with one arm around Squirt’s waist. Cam went over to help him.
“Go back to the house and get the doc’s medical bag,” Red said.
“I don’t need more medicine.” Squirt stumbled over to a vacant chair, Cam and Nico still holding him up.
“You look pretty bad, son,” Rincon remarked. “Can you eat something?”
“Whatever Hal’s cooking smells really good.”
“That’s just some oil warming in a frying pan,” Mira said.
He poked at his glasses. “It still smells good.”
“While we’re cooking, Nico, you and Liz go back to the house and find the doc’s bag,” Hal suggested.
“I can get there faster than any car,” Liz said. “I’ll go. By myself.”
Hal looked pleased, Mira thought, the way a parent would be if his kid had done something good. “Thanks, Liz.”
And just like that, she left the apartment and moments later, through the window, Mira saw a giant condor lifting away from the tank area, into the starlight.
Holy shit, Mira thought. One down and four to go.
Rincon flashed a quick smile that said, Let’s do it right this time.
PART 3
End Game
“The only thing permanent in life is impermanence.”
- Thor, Avengers: Endgame
18
Liz
Sheppard, in his SUV with two search dogs and their handlers, followed a Humvee toward a neighborhood in the foothills. The windows were open and the warm night air drifted through the car. The island felt preternaturally quiet, empty, like a dystopian landscape in the aftermath of some great catastrophe. It reminded him of scenes from The Road, long stretches of nothing except trees and deserted homes and buildings. Now and then, one of the two search dogs in the back seat whined. No one spoke.
The Humvee stopped at the entrance to the neighborhood and Keel and half a dozen soldiers got out. Sheppard pulled in next to it and he and the dogs and their handlers exited the SUV. White noise crackled in his earbud, then Keels’ voice came through. “You all know the drill. The troops will shadow the dogs and handlers into the neighborhood. The dogs know their job, so let them take the lead.”
The dogs took off, snouts to the ground. The handlers and dogs were all equipped with GPS and Sheppard could follow their signals on his phone. He raised his binoculars and scanned the dark street for movement, anything off kilter. He rubbed his stiff neck and dropped his head back to stretch it. Long hours, not enough sleep, and constant worry about Mira, he thought. He felt it throughout his body.
Suddenly, he saw something in the sky that shouldn’t have been there. A bird with a huge wingspan, flying at about a thousand feet, a giant against the starlight. The condor, he thought, it had to be.
“Frank. You see it?”
“Shit. Yeah.”
Sheppard heard the awe in his voice. “It looks like it’s circling down in Golden Hills. About half a mile from here. Carlos and his team are just arriving. I’ll alert them and get over there.”
“If you need backup, holler. Otherwise we’ll meet you.”
2
Sheppard drove like a madman toward Golden Hills, kept the headlights off, and hoped to hell he didn’t hit a giant pothole. He no longer saw the condor.
He radioed Delgado. “I spotted the condor. It looked like she was circling down into your area.”
“I knew something had happened. Nigel started whining and pawing at the door. We’re just pulling in.”
“I’m nearly there.”
“If it’s her, if it’s really that crow, the TASERS are loaded,” Delgado said. “I’ve also got a couple syringes of morphine for her.”
“We’ll have to shoot her when she’s low or on the ground, otherwise the fall could kill her.”
“I’ll alert the others.”
Sheppard entered Golden Hills, a wealthy neighborhood with sprawling homes on properties of three or more acres. He stopped next to Delgado’s car, leaped out and ran over to him and Nigel, already straining at his leash. Delgado passed him a TASER. “O’Hara and Annie and Goot are on their way with backups.”
“Let Nigel do his thing.” Sheppard took the dog’s leash, but Nigel didn’t move. His snout moved through the air, sniffing, tracking scents, then he abruptly lunged forward, jerking the leash from Sheppard’s hand. He tore up the block and across the street toward one of the mansions set back from the road.
“I think he’s got it, Shep,” Delgado whispered.
They raced after him and approached the house on the darkest side, at the south. Nigel moved slowly, cautiously, snout to the ground, tail tucked between his legs. Sheppard didn’t reach for his leash. A side door stood open. They paused outside and when Nigel moved slowly and cautiously inside, they were right behind him.
They stepped into a utility room.
Then Nigel tore away from them, barking excitedly, and ran out into the massive living room and greeted Liz the shifter like a long-lost friend. Human again, she threw open her arms, and squealed, “Nigel!” He leaped at her, barking, licking her madly, and she laughed and got down on the floor with him.
