From the Blue Page 12

  “Of course I am, if it so pleases you.” His earnestness and courtesy still surprised her but it was something that she could definitely get used to.

  “Yes, it does. It does please me.” Poking subtle fun at his very un-American, but very proper way of speaking, she smiled broadly, unafraid of her own feelings for once and surrendering to them readily. “When and where?”

  Jaron seemed to think for a minute, considering his schedule, she assumed. “How about tomorrow evening? Say around 6. I’ll pick you up at your house?”

  “That’d be great. I’ll text you my address.”

  Now it was time for Jaron to fidget a little. He rubbed the back of his head and shifted his feet as he spoke, slipping into the lie effortlessly. “Um, I don’t have a cell phone. I’m here with my handlers and I didn’t think acquiring an American cell phone would be necessary.”

  Now there was an oddity. A teen without a cell phone. Maybe it should have raised a red flag with her, but instead, it only endeared him more to her.

  “OK. I can Facebook you or tweet at you.”

  He shook his head.

  “Instagram? Snapchat? Maybe we can Skype?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Jaron, you are one throwback Thursday after another.”

  A small grin creased her lips. Some girls may have been put off by his backward-ness, but she thought it was cool that he hadn’t surrendered to the crutches of technology.

  Holding her finger up, she had him stay still for a moment while she ran back to Alex and a sleepy-eyed Jaime, who had obviously been woken up abruptly. Alex stared at her intently as she approached, her eyes demanding some explanation, but Dylan ignored her. She knelt down and rummaged through her pack, finding a piece of scrap paper and a pen. She scribbled something on the back of it under the watchful and curious glare of both girls.

  Without saying anything to either of them, Dylan got back up and strode back to where Jaron was waiting for her.

  “Here’s my address and phone number.” She said succinctly and watched as he folded it up and stuck it the pocket of his shirt.

  “I need to get going. My handlers will be anxious if I am gone for too long.” For the first time since she had met him, Dylan noticed a chink in his positive veneer, almost as though he were hiding something from her and didn’t want to. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

  “Your handlers?”

  What another strange word to use, she thought. She had to keep reminding herself that he was from another country, dismissing his odd phrases as just a different cultural perspective.

  “Um, picture them as personal assistants or guardians, I guess. They accompanied me here to the States. They make my travel arrangements and itinerary. They’ll just be worried if I miss a scheduled appointment and don’t check in with them on occasion.”

  For the first time, Dylan looked at him warily. In all of their conversations, he had always presented such an open and easy façade, but now he seemed guarded as he had been when talking about his brother. She got the impression he was lying about something or, at least, not being entirely truthful about it. But, then again, she barely knew Jaron. And there could be any number of reasons and factors that could account for the niggling feeling in the back of her mind.

  Instead of questioning him further, she ignored it and dismissed the feeling as her own nervousness about their upcoming date. Her faint suspicions completely disappeared as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer. He bent his head down to hers and she could feel the tender brush of his lips against her own. She closed her eyes and pressed herself closer to him, feeling the fireworks go off in her head.

  As Jaron pulled his lips away from hers, Dylan felt a need, almost an ache, spread through her body. More than anything, she wanted to pull him back to her. Even as he dropped his arms from her, her skin missed the feel of his. Her mouth longed for that tangy saltiness on his lips. Her hands wanted to reach out and stroke the curly locks that hid his forehead.

  But she did none of that.

  He promised he’d see her the next day and turned to walk away from her. He shot a quick wave to Alex and Jaime, who were sitting there, entranced by the proceedings. Their eyes darted from him to her and back again.

  She stared after him with her arms crossed as he passed over the dune and stopped. One final look back and a wave and he disappeared from view into the parking lot beyond. She stood there for another minute, replaying his departure in her head, already missing the touch of his lips on hers and the firm grip of his hands on her waist.

  When she finally turned back towards the umbrella, she found she had garnered an audience as Alex had woken most of the group. Rolling her eyes in anticipation of the dozens of questions that were sure to come, she reluctantly retreated to her friends and their evil, knowing grins.

  Chapter 10 – Not Quite Human

  Three hours away farther down the coast, Agent Mark Fitzsimmons had dozens of questions of his own and he desperately hoped that Dr. Williams could answer a few of them.

  Unfortunately, the good doctor had yet to make an appearance.

  “Are you sure we have to wear these monkey suits?” Angelo asked from beside him, struggling with the blue vinyl containment suits that they’d been asked to put on. The crinkle of synthetic plastic echoed in the small changing chamber they had been ushered into.

  “I’m certain Dr. Williams has his reasons.”

  As if on cue, the doctor swept in through the thick plastic strips that hung from the ceiling.

  “Gentlemen, hello. Glad you could come so quickly.” His voice sounded mechanical and tinny coming through the plastic faceplate that covered his features.

  “Of course, doctor. Your message did say you needed to see us urgently. I take it you’ve found something.”

  “Heh, you could say that.” The doctor replied cryptically. Mark started to object and ask for a little more clarification, but the doctor’s gloved hand waved him off, anticipating his inquiries. “I think it’s best if I just show you. Please, agents, secure your faceplates and I’ll take you in.”

  Mark placed his over his head and heard Angelo grunt his dissatisfaction as he did the same. Not much could bring a smile to his face lately, but his partner’s difficult ministrations brought one now.

  “Good to go, doc.” Angelo’s voice sounded through the helmet’s speaker.

  Dr. Williams held back the vinyl curtain and both agents stepped through, finding themselves in a long, sterile white corridor. The medical officer followed them in and brushed past the tight quarters, leading them to the heavy metal door on the far end. The entire process reminded Mark of some horror/sci-fi flick he had seen on TV, but he couldn’t remember the name of it. Something about an alien virus, he was sure. The walls outside and inside along the doors and walls were covered with yellow and red signs that warned them that Level 1 Quarantine procedures were in place.

  The doctor looked over his shoulder as best he could with the constricting helmet over his head and the heavy re-breather on his back. “This way.”

  The trio crossed into the last threshold, a heavy metallic airlock that cycled them through into the main laboratory area. Mark glanced around and was sure that this room was larger than his entire apartment. Other than more of the same sterile white, grays and silvers were the only colors evident as every surface was an aluminum/steel mixture. The far wall was lined with metal doors that reminded him of a morgue. Three long tables interrupted the room with bright, halogen lamps arrayed above them. A long body sized tank of water stood on its metal wheels at the head of the row of tables. Two of these tables were currently unoccupied.

  In the middle of the room, the extra body they had recovered from the house on Willow Street lay naked on a metal table surrounded by instruments, computers and displays. The man’s chest had been cut open in medical efficiency and had been pinned backwards to show his internal organs. The cold of the room had caused the dead tissue of the g
uy to turn slightly bluish, although his innards were still angry reds and pinks in sharp contrast to the gleaming silvers. The doctor led them over to the corpse and began to give them his report.

  “Gentlemen, I’m not sure where or under what circumstances you found him, but if I weren’t bound by federal authority to keep quiet, this would be the medical find of the millennia.” The doctor’s voice had shifted from his low register into an almost giddiness.

  “Why do you say that, Doc?” Angelo asked, clearly uncomfortable in his suit. He kept fidgeting with the gloves and helmet as he spoke.

  “Well, according to every test that I’ve run, this man is not completely human.” He was almost excited about dropping this bombshell and his voice rose slightly when he revealed it.

  Agent Fitzsimmons looked from the body to the doctor and then to his partner, who only looked back at him dumbfounded. “How is that possible? And please, layman’s terms.”

  “That’s the answer I don’t have. It isn’t possible. I have no clue as to his origins or how he came to be here. But I’ll tell you what I do know.” He picked up a long metal pointer and started to poke at the pair of long and faded trio of scars that the two agents had discovered at the crime scene.

  “These appear to be functional gills. Three on each side with an internal physiology very similar to what one might find in any water breathing species. But, from I can deduce, this man was perfectly able to take in oxygen through his lungs as well as these. He was able to breathe above ground and below sea level with equal ease.”

  The doctor waited for that to sink in before he continued. He picked up one of the dead man’s hands and lifted it in front of their helmets. With another medical instrument, he pulled on a flap of skin that protruded between the forefinger and middle finger. “This appears to be a retractable fin or webbing, which I can only conclude is to make it easier and faster for him to swim. They’re on his feet as well.”

  “Three other physical oddities that I have found so far are a pair of translucent nictating membranes that cover his eyes, I’m assuming to see underwater. His skin tissue and muscle tissue are much denser than ours, about eight times denser. The last part is the chemical composition of his blood and cells, which seems to be saturated with high concentrations of sodium.”

  “What does that mean, Dr. Williams?”

  “Well, this is purely conjectural, because if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, I would never believe it. But, if this man evolved in an underwater environment, the thicker skin would enable him to withstand the extreme pressures of great depths. It would also make him a lot harder to harm in open air. The thicker muscle tissue would allow him to swim for long periods of time and give him greater strength than a normal human. As for the salt content of his organs and cells, it would support the hypothesis that this being lived underwater, as unlikely as that may seem. But, it also means that he would have to imbibe large amounts of sodium while on dry land to maintain his body’s chemical equilibrium. If his sodium levels fall below a certain percentage, he’ll start to dehydrate. I’ve already seen evidence of this in the cadaver.”

  Mark Fitzsimmons said nothing right away, but shared a knowing glance with his partner. The doctor’s debrief had connected a few dots in his head. “Considering what we’ve been finding, it appears that someone has been experimenting on the victims, possibly to accomplish these same effects. Could this guy be a successful try?”

  The doctor talked as he led them over to two wall-mounted displays. He tapped a few controls and two looping swirls of a DNA strand appeared on each one.

  “I would say not.” He tapped a few keys on the console and the monitor showed a multi-colored helix. “This is the DNA from the last victim. One hundred percent human.” He tapped a few more keys and the second monitor switched. “This is the DNA from John Doe. Although they look virtually identical, they are not. There are some fundamental changes in key protein sequences that could be the root of these physical modifications I showed you.”

  “OK, Doc, break it down. This guy looks human, but he isn’t?” Mark asked through the tinny speaker.

  Dr. Williams turned and looked at the agents, seeing their befuddled confusion even through the faceplates.

  “Consider it like this. Chimps and humans share about 96% of the same DNA. They are our closest genetic relatives on Earth. Although we possess many of the same genes, that 4% is responsible for the differences in body size, features, brain size, ability to communicate verbally, etc.”

  “Our guy here shares approximately 99.3% of his DNA with us, but his genetic divergence is almost entirely internal. Enough of a difference exists to call him near-human, although he appears entirely like us externally.”

  “As amazing as all of this is, focusing on his appearance is not the question you should be asking yourselves.”

  “What question should we be asking, Doc?” Angelo piped in.

  “What is he and where did he come from?”

  Without waiting for any speculation, Dr. Williams continued, answering his own question.

  “This man’s entire structure has evolved slightly from ours. That can’t happen without genetic modification or a leap in evolution that would take thousands of years, at least not on the scale that I’m seeing here. Simple genetic manipulation we can accomplish, usually with plants and animals, but changes in human physiology of this magnitude are decades beyond what we are capable of doing. If I didn’t know better, I would say this man was an offshoot from humanity, adapted and evolved over a long period of time.”

  Agent Fitzsimmons stared at the animated rotating strands on the screens. He had taken in the debriefing with the detachment that he always had, although everything he had heard so far was incredulous. If what he had been told was in fact true, as impossible as it may seem, they had uncovered an underwater-dwelling cousin of humans. And, as fascinating as this was, he still had no clue how it fit into his case.

  “Doctor, do you think there are more ‘water-breathers’ like this one?” Angelo’s question had been rattling around in Mark’s brain, also.

  “Ah, there is the $64,000 question. It is entirely possible that John Doe is a genetic aberration of our own species, a mutation of sorts, one that has eluded notice by the scientific community. That’s not an opinion that I am scientifically comfortable with.”

  “Or, there could be an entire race of these off-shoots. I suppose that, given their appearance, they may have gone unnoticed, but I find that even more unlikely. Someone, somewhere, would have made note of it. So, are there more like him? It is possible and yet, impossible. That’s the best answer I can give you.”

  Mark shook his head. They were getting off track. John Doe and his ‘abnormalities’ were fascinating, but he had twelve bodies and no explanation behind them. This was his only lead, not a scientific curiosity.

  “Doctor, is there anything here that may lead to who did this? What is their endgame? Anything useful?

  “Agent Fitzsimmons, there is no forensic evidence on the body that is related to the murders. I have further tests to run and other avenues to pursue. I will, of course, inform you if I find anything more. As to the identities of your suspects, that, agent, is for your investigative prowess to find out.”

  After a few additional, but less revealing remarks, Dr. Williams handed over his preliminary written report and promised more answers in the next week or two. Satisfied and unnerved with the doctor’s progress and his implications, both agents exited the cold room and began stripping off their protective layers in the outer locker room. Agent Fitzsimmons had been hoping for some definitive answers or, at least some clues to where to continue their investigation, but instead all he found were more questions.

  When they returned to their offices, Fitzsimmons and Rodriguez brought the doctor’s multi-page report with them. Mark disappeared into his office for the better part of an hour while he updated the director by Interlink and faxed over a copy of the report. He had expected
some disbelief, bordering on denial, some sort of facial tic that conveyed the incredible nature of what he was being told, but the director listened to the entire briefing without any remarks. His stoic, unchanging expression never betrayed his thoughts, which was a tell in and of itself.

  After he terminated the connection, Mark leaned back in his office chair. He definitely got the impression that his boss wasn’t surprised by anything he had just been told. The director had always been a bit unflappable under ordinary circumstances, but his report was far from ordinary. That, in itself, was a bit worrisome, but also above his pay grade.

  Putting the director’s oddly calm reaction out of his mind, he rummaged through his stack of messages, filing most of them under unimportant, and returned two phone calls that he couldn’t avoid: one to the field team and the other to his ex-wife. Both of which left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Walking out of his office and down the hall to the small break room, the agent poured himself a cup of coffee, whose aroma did much to clear out his muddled, but wired, thoughts. The caffeine was only going to make him more jittery than he already was, but he didn’t care.

  He leaned against the counter with his hands wrapped around the steaming mug. One of his greatest assets as a federal agent had been his analytical mind. He’d been able to decode parts of cases that had baffled lesser agents and it had garnered him quick and easy promotions. But, his keen intellect had its downside, also, because he could never turn it off. He’d been kept awake on more than one occasion until he could work out a particular angle or unravel a clue.

  And this current case had already been the culprit of many sleepless nights.

  Curiously, it had been a simple matter to accept what the doctor had said. He’d seen stranger things since being assigned to this division. And usually, when the case was put to bed, most oddities had very logical, human explanations. So he didn’t bother with trying to rationalize the doctor’s report. That wasn’t the case anyway.