Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2 (14 page)

“While I was unconscious, I was in an odd sort of in-between state. I don’t know how else to describe it. Everything was foggy, my body was see-through, and it was just really weird. I could hear talking: you, Cajun, Charleen, Pell, and someone else.” She hesitated.

“That was the doctor — Pell’s friend. I couldn’t get ya into the hospital, and I didn’t know what else to do for ya. Pell called in his friend.”

“Oh,” she whispered, noting his despondent and frustrated air. “You tried to take me to the hospital?” Hybrids disliked hospitals because of the fact that they would be more than happy to dispose of a Hybrid rather than to treat one. Harley would have been taking a big chance, taking her to one, risking his life in an effort to secure hers.

“I tried. They didn’t want to look at ya just because I was holdin’ ya; said they didn’t take sympathizers,” he growled. “I convinced ’em that we’d just found ya on the street, that we didn’t know ya. She said they’d take ya but they’d strip all of your belongin’s and burn ’em because of contact with me: tags included. I couldn’t…”

His eyes lifted to hers, and she was immediately flooded with his feelings of inadequacy on this matter. Her hand drifted to the tags about her neck, tears prickling her eyes. She’d come so close to losing them again, and who knows what would have happened if the tags had been removed. Harley had made hard decisions for her while she slept; he’d been degraded by the hospital staff, taken a chance with his own life, saved her from death or possible insanity. She felt her heart stretching just a little more.

“Thank you,” she whispered, gratitude overflowing the words. Harley blinked and looked down.

“I was terrified I’d made the wrong choice. You were so cold and broken.”

“But you did make the right choice. It’s what I would have wanted you to do. I can’t lose Jaron’s tags.”

His eyes lifted at her assurance. He offered a small grin, though it held more self-doubt than assurance. He tugged lightly on a length of her hair.

“So, back to this ‘in between’. Ya heard us…” He left it in the air, leaving room for her to pick back up the story while distancing himself from the uncomfortable emotions of the previous conversation.

“Yes. I could hear you, but I couldn’t understand what you were saying. It was like I was unable to remember the meaning of words.” She shrugged, unsure how else to describe the experience. “Things got weirder when a girl stepped out of the fog and started talking to me. She was me, yet different. She said to call her Bryn, that she was my conscience of sorts.”

“Sounds like a wild dream,” Harley offered.

“Only, I don’t think it was a dream. She told me I was in the middle of a Collapse. She said I had been sleepwalking and killing things in my sleep for weeks now. And she said that it is going to keep happening until I start fighting Rabids in my waking hours again.”

“Because ya love doin’ it so much?” Harley asked wryly.

“Because I have a Hybrid in my head just like you. And by not fighting, I am refusing its existence and rendering it useless. It doesn’t like that. So it’s taking matters into its own hands. And I think if you had taken me to the hospital, if they had taken my blood, they would have found I am not so very different from you.”

Harley went still, eying her with a new light of consideration.

“You think your DNA is the same.”

“I don’t know how similar it is. I just know that I am not in control of any of this stuff. I thought it was just the tags, but what if the tags don’t just make me do things, but they are my own version of a Hybrid. You said yourself that the Hybrid side of you is simply a different side of your mind, something brought on by physical and chemical changes to your body. How is it any different from what the tags have done to me? Pell said they have created a chemical change in my brain; why not the rest of me? Maybe they have made me immune.”

Harley ran a hand through his hair, leaving it to rub at the back of his neck as he thought.

“For me, it’s always there in the back of my mind, always present. Is it the same for you?”

Amiel paused to think about that. Did she feel it? She searched her mind, looking for any sense of otherness.

“I… I don’t know. I can’t feel anything,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s only there when the tags are active.”

Harley stared at her for another long moment. “And this Bryn, this conscience of yours…”

“I don’t know about that, either,” she admitted again. “I have never seen her before.” She paused. “But I’ve heard her.”

“What, in real life, like a person you know?”

“No, in my head.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t remember fighting the Rabids I hunted that night. All I remember is waking on the gravel. I was in pain and the world was distorted and so loud. There was a lot of shouting, and a deep feeling of fear. I didn’t know what was going on, where I was. But I heard a voice shouting in my head: Bryn’s voice.  She kept yelling at me to get up and run. So I did. She kept telling me to run, to not give up, that we weren’t going to die like that.”

“We?”

“Yes.” She frowned, homing in on that one word as well. It was rather odd that Bryn would use that word. Almost as though she truly was separated in Amiel’s mind.

“I’m sure she said ‘we’. She said she
was
me, yet I
feel
that she is different, separate somehow. It’s why I insisted I be able to call her by name, rather than just thinking of her as me. It feels wrong to make the connection that she is just a figment of imagination in my brain.”

“And she gave herself the name Bryn?”

“Yes. Do you think it means something?”

“I think we need Pell,” Harley stated grudgingly.   

Harley

Harley stood nearby, watching as Pell ran tests on Amiel’s blood. It made him itch, left him restless inside to be including Pell again, though he and his Hybrid were more inclined to allow the guy around Amiel now that they knew he wasn’t a complete pervy weirdo.

The restlessness had more to do with the fact of danger that lurked in using his services. The more often they used Pell, the more often Pell snuck out of Foundation with equipment to run tests on Amiel, the more likely they were to be discovered. The idea of Amiel’s being discovered by those who would surely be her enemies if they knew of her? That was enough to set Harley’s insides quivering with the need to protect.

Harley loomed over Pell’s shoulder, arms crossed except the one hand that hovered at his lips as he chewed his thumbnail. He had no idea what the geek was typing up on the computer; it was all a bunch of mumbo jumbo to him. But it made him feel as though he were involved in the process somehow, less useless in this endeavor.

“Looming doesn’t make it go faster,” Pell whispered helpfully. Harley frowned, leaning back, eyes restlessly shifting to find Amiel. She sat there on the couch, one finger rising to beckon him closer. Despite the circumstances, he felt his insides turn topsy turvy on him. His Hybrid rose to the surface, far too interested in her actions. Swallowing hard, he shoved the Hybrid to the side and shuffled over to her, carefully sitting on the couch. She smiled softly, hands gently tugging his hand away from his face. He hadn’t even realized he was still nibbling on it.

“It will be all right, Harley. We will figure this out.”

The Hybrid twisted slightly in his mind, sending those damned annoying goose bumps along his skin. He wished it would stop doing that.

“Pretty sure I’m the one supposed to be assurin’ you of that.”

“We all have our dog days and cat days.” She winked, with a grin. Another twist and shower of goose bumps followed.

“I’ve got the results,” Pell shouted triumphantly. Harley and Amiel both jumped, and it wasn’t until that moment that Harley realized just how closely he’d been leaning toward her. He was all up in her personal space. Clearing his throat apologetically, he stepped away.

“What’re we dealin’ with here, Pell?” he asked stiffly, still thrown through a loop by whatever had just gone down a second ago.

“Well… not much, I’m afraid.”

Harley’s eyes shifted toward Amiel just in time to see her face fall. Pell didn’t notice, wrapped up in the results on the screen. “I did, however, find that she has an interesting blood type combination. She doesn’t seem to be predominantly AB co-dominant,” Pell mumbled as he further examined the test results.

“What does that mean?” Amiel asked. Pell slowly pulled himself away from the readings, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“What?”

“The AB co-dominant thing.”

“Oh — oh, yes, that. It is often refered to as chimeric blood. It means you have two different blood types. It’s nothing to be overly concerned about. It could be caused by any number of reasons: several different matters of the womb, or blood transfusions in the past that have permanently mingled with your own, for example. It can cause autoimmune disorders in some, among other things. But in your case, I’d say it is more of a curious display than anything.”

“Could that be why my heart does what it does? The way it stumbles and skips around?”

“Huh,” Pell mumbled, eyes thoughtful. “I forgot about that. I suppose it is possible? I am not entirely sure; this is not my particular forte. I could perhaps inquire with Dr. Brent the next time I see him.” He paused, looking back to the results. “Also, your white blood cells are elevated. However, considering the fact that you tell me she Collapsed…” He glanced at Harley for confirmation. When given, Pell shook his head in wonder.

“Truly amazing, really. I’d love to do so many tests to see what your body is capable of…”

Harley casually flicked Pell’s ear. “Get back to the point.”

“Right… what is the point, again?”

“White blood cells?” Amiel offered helpfully.

“What? Oh, yes, white blood cells. Considering you’ve undergone a Collapse, the blood cell levels aren’t so high that I would be overly concerned. It is likely the effects of the damage your body has undergone in the last few days. It is trying to heal the damage done, as well as fighting off a cold, perhaps.” Pell shrugged, leaning back in the chair.

“And immunity? Is it a possibility, do you think?” Amiel pressed, voice still holding an edge of hope.

“Unfortunately, I don’t see any signs of that here,” Pell replied glumly. “Perhaps if I had my equipment at the lab to work with, I’d be better able to determine those factors. I have to be careful what equipment I take out, so that it won’t be missed. That, of course, means I get the very outdated equipment.” He grinned apologetically. “Besides, the one at the lab is much, much bigger. Even tough guy here wouldn’t be able to lift it.” Pell snorted, poking Harley in the arm. Harley glanced at his arm, then back at Pell, face stone still. Pell quickly pulled away, clearing his throat.

“Uh, yes. But obviously it’s not possible for me to take your results to the lab for further examination, because they would automatically be put into the database and your discovery would be imminent.”

Amiel frowned down at her hands, despondent. These weren’t the answers she was expecting. She’d been so sure of what the results would be. Harley had felt how deeply she believed that the matter with Bryn was more than her imagination. Amiel gnawed at her lip, confusion obviously displayed on her face.

“I don’t understand. She told me I was the same as you. She told me…” Her lips suddenly spread wide in a yawn.

“The after-effects of the Collapse are hittin’ ya, kid; time for a nap.” Harley moved forward, gently slipping his arms under her to settle her back down into the couch.

“She told me… it doesn’t make sense. Maybe I’ll ask her…,” she mumbled against his chest before slipping into sleep. He gently pulled away, tucking the blankets and his jacket closer around her. He couldn’t help grinning when she snuggled her nose closer into his jacket.

“She who?” Pell asked, from his seat at his computer. Harley pulled his gaze away from Amiel, moving to sit near Pell.

“Wanted to ask ya ’bout that,” Harley murmured, glancing once more at Amiel to assure himself she was still sleeping. “She said she was talkin’ to someone in her head while Collapsed; that the girl looked like her, but different somehow. The girl apparently told her about the Collapse, and also told her that she’s been sleepwalkin’ and goin’ on Rabid rampages every night in her sleep.”

“Well! That’s something, isn’t it. The mind does strange things in sleep.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But she
has
been sleepwalkin’. The guards said she leaves the complex most nights; when they address her, she seems aware but off slightly. When I see her in the mornin’s, she’s a mess; tired and distracted. The other day I found knives in her overhead cupboard.”

“That’s hardly a safe place for knives,” Pell mumbled.

“She didn’t know how they got up there.”

Pell scrunched his nose. “Sounds like a classic case of sleepwalking, for sure.”

“Is it possible to go on a killing rampage every night in your sleep, and not remember a thing?” Harley asked, though he already knew the answers. If she could do it while awake with no memory of it, why would doing it in her sleep be any different?

“Oh, yes, people have been known to do all sorts of odd things while sleepwalking; they’ve been known to carry on conversations, make meals, drive cars, even have intimate relations.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Harley’s Hybrid gave a disgruntled thump in his mind at that one. Harley couldn’t help but agree, hoping she hadn’t gone that route during her nighttime adventures.

“There have been cases in history of people claiming to have committed murder in their sleep. Though you can understand such cases were difficult to properly determine,” Pell finished. Harley sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes. Just when he thought he had things figured out in the department of his charge, she threw him through another loop.

“Do you think she might be the one killing all those Rabids at night in the Outskirts?” Pell asked, excitement flaring in his eyes. Harley looked at him in surprise.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Cajun told me.” Pell shrugged.

Harley rubbed his eyes. He was going to have to talk to his brother about what he shared with Pell. He suspected there was a deeper friendship between the two men than his brother admitted to, but there were some things better left secret. Foundation wouldn’t look lightly on Cajun sharing some of the more fragile details, even with one of their own lower-level employees. Someone going rogue and killing in mass numbers was something considered high-level clearance only, in Foundation.

“There’s been a rise in Rabid deaths in the Skirts the last month,” Harley admitted grudgingly. “I thought it was one of ours gone off the deep end, likin’ it a bit much, if ya catch my drift.”

Pell nodded. “Those on the verge of a mental break.”

“Ones that need to be put down,” Harley stated firmly. He hated doing it, but sometimes it had to be done. This was one of those situations. They all reveled in the thrill of the hunt; it was in their nature. They all gained satisfaction knowing there was one less Rabid in the world to kill innocents. But when a Hybrid gained a thirst for blood, there was no turning back. It was a fine line to walk. “So I’ve been snoopin’ for information.”

“Did you ask the bums? I hear they are a well of knowledge. I’m tempted to speak with them myself one day,” Pell confided intently.

“Don’t,” Harley warned. “They’re all crazier than bed bugs.”

“But that’s what makes them so interesting! They live on the streets, their lives in danger constantly. Naturally they would be insane, under such circumstances. However, their minds must be on full blast, 24/7! Think of the things they’ve seen, their experiences! Living life on the edge!”

“Uh huh.” Harley looked at Pell bouncing up and down on his seat, eyes lit with that inner scientific geek nirvana he got sometimes. Shaking his head, Harley continued.

“Anyway, the bums blame it on a black-eyed devil they see lurkin’ ’round in the night. It’s the trophy of crazy stories. They’re all sayin’ the same thing, though. So either their paranoia has hit an all-time high, or they’re protectin’ someone by givin’ me a bogus story.”

“Or there really is a black-eyed devil roaming the streets,” Pell offered. “We’ve all heard the stories of the experimentations.”

Harley sighed, leaning back in the chair. There were plenty of stories drifting around about crazies lurking in the dark, performing experiments on people.

In that part of the case, the stories were true. Harley himself had come across old sites in the Skirts where it was clear someone had been strapped to a table and experimented on or tortured. Those sites were all years old, however, and no one knew for certain who was behind them. Was it the Rabids taking their vicious curiosities to new levels? Scientists? Thugs torturing enemies?

“Either way, I’d like to think she’d stay in city limits. But if she’s sleepwalkin’, I don’t know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s tough, but I don’t know if she could handle the Skirts,” he admitted.

“And the voice in her head?” Pell asked.

“She says the girl told her that she is Amiel’s conscience.”

Pell’s lips puckered in thought. “That’s possible. It is speculated that dreams are our mind’s way of bringing truths to the surface; truths that perhaps we do not want to acknowledge, or aren’t aware of.”

“She told her that she’s been sleepwalkin’,” Harley agreed. “Maybe that’s her mind’s way of makin’ her aware of what she’s been doin’?”

“Perhaps; but what of the cause of the sleepwalking? To your knowledge, she wasn’t doing this before the last few weeks? What’s changed in that time? There must have been a trigger for it.”

Harley sat straighter.

“In the last few weeks, she was moved from the night shift to a day shift.”

“That would certainly be a factor.” Pell nodded, pressing the glasses back up his nose. “Such a severe swing in sleep schedules could throw anyone out of whack.”

“The girl in her head, she told her the reason she was sleepwalkin’ was because she has a Hybrid nature, like us. And that in this new schedule Amiel’s no longer subjected to the occasional Rabid attack, so her Hybrid nature’s gettin’ restless. It takes control and makes her fight while she sleeps.”

“Interesting.” Pell pursed his lips once more, fisting his hair as he stood and began to pace in full-on Pell Think Mode. “We’ve long known she has something special about her, revolving around the dog tags. But the idea of something Hybrid mixed in? Perhaps that is the only way her mind can put to words the effect of the tags.”

Harley nodded. “Amiel suggested something similar. That perhaps the tags act as a sort of Hybrid imitation.”

“That would explain much. If the tags are meant to mimic the reactions of a Hybrid, why not the mentality of one as well?” Pell shrugged. Harley hesitated.

“Amiel also said the girl calls herself Bryn.”