Runaway Heart (35 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

P
an is outside
the pool house. He sees the Geegas. They
are in the lighted room behind the sheet of hard air.

     
He leaps, hitting it, putting his head through, but feeling no
pain as pieces crash onto the floor around him. Green, savage memories overtake
him
—
shadow thoughts he can never identify. Violence! Rage! Killing
for his tribe! Now Pan is inside the room and the Geegas are standing still,
frightened, so easy to slaughter.

     
The male Geega, standing next to the light pad on the wall, does
something Pan doesn't understand. . . he turns and pushes a button.
"Run!" he yells at the female Geega, who lunges toward the door. But
Pan blocks her path. He knows to kill the male Geega first. This is the rule.

Pan charges.

     
The male Geega swings a heavy canvas bag, hitting him in the
chest, catching Pan by surprise. Pan falls backward, squealing.

     
"The pool!" the female yells. Pan knows he can't rip
them apart. He must use the knife. He knows that disobeying a direct order from
the Alpha is worse than death.

     
Pan brings his gloved hand up, flashing the knife. Pan spends
hours practicing with the killing knives. He prefers to use his hands
—
the glorious
shredding ripping, but the Alpha Geega has said no. So, Pan now approaches
slowly, just as he is taught. Creeping toward the male Geega on three
extenders, his gloved hand in front of him, the five-inch blade flashing. He
can hear his breath coming in rasps, snarling in the back of his throat.

     
Pan is happy.

Herman saw the beast seconds after it
crashed through the window. It was far more terrifying than he had imagined . .
. an almost-human face twisted in animal rage, a body covered completely with
brown fur. He hit the emergency panic button, sending a silent alarm directly
to the Malibu Sheriff's substation a few miles away, then turned to face the
beast. The animal reeked like an unwashed hound. It wore a white headband,
soaked red with blood from glass cuts.

     
"My God," Herman said, as the chimera brandished a
vicious-looking, five-inch blade in its gloved hand. The beast was wearing a
vest that contained some kind of complicated computer. The stench coming off
the animal was growing worse by the second, clogging Herman's nostrils.

     
Then the chimera charged.

     
Herman swung his heavy canvas bag full of law books, catching the
beast in the chest and rolling it backward onto the floor. He grabbed Sandy's
hand and started for the back door.

     
"No!" Sandy yelled. "The pool!" She ran right
through the broken sliding glass door, pulling Herman after her, as the chimera
rolled to its feet and with amazing speed leaped forward, running on all fours,
quickly closing the distance between them.

     
Herman could hear the strange sound of the leather gloves scraping
against the concrete pavement behind them. Sandy yanked him hard and suddenly
they were both in the pool. As they landed in the deep end the chimera skidded
to a halt inches from the water. It screamed, then ran around the edge, jumping
and grunting, looking for a way to get at them.

     
"My God, what is it?" Herman said. "I think it's
one of your new clients," Sandy gasped as they treaded water. "A
chimera. They can't swim."

     
"How do you know?" Herman yelled as he watched the
frightening animal growling at them, its eyes filled with murderous rage.

     
"It looks mostly chimp. They're too heavy to swim. Too much
muscle. No body fat. Chimps are afraid of the water." Sandy treaded water
and stared at the angry beast. She obviously knew what she was talking about,
because it was now clear that this thing had no intention of going in after them.

     
As the hybrid ran back and forth around the pool, it finally
noticed the steps in the shallow end. Screeching angrily, it waded in up to its
waist—but now the electronic vest was getting wet. Herman could hear circuits
popping. After a moment of indecision, the chimera waded out of the pool, then
scurried around to the diving board. It ran out to the end and clung to the
edge, reaching toward Herman and making a loud, plaintive scream.

     
"It wants us to help him." Herman started to swim toward
it.

     
"Get back . . . are you nuts?" Sandy yelled, then
grabbed him, pulling him further out of range.

     
The chimera jumped up and down on the diving board, regret on its
hairless face.

     
Suddenly they heard police sirens winding down outside the house.
A pair of car doors slammed and a moment later the first of the Malibu sheriffs
jumped up to look over the wall into the pool area.

     
"Help!" Sandy called. "We need help!"

     
The deputy climbed to the top of the wall, then jumped down, landing
twenty feet from the enraged chimera.

     
"What the
fuck?"
the deputy sheriff said when he
saw the beast.

Pan sees the Geega female turn and drag
the male out through the broken place. Out to the wet place where water
shimmers.

     
Pan knows he must stop the Geegas before they get there. If Geegas
get to the wet place he will not be able to follow. He will fail.

     
Pan is almost on them, reaching out with the knife, slashing, but
getting nothing but Geega clothing. Pan
screams in fear and anger, almost falls, teetering on the
edge of the wet, but finally regains his balance. The Alpha Geega Dave is
yelling in Pan's earpiece.

     
"Kill them! Get them!" Pan wants to do what Dave
commands. He can imagine the Geega bodies in his grip, ripping, shredding. Pan
wants to use the PB-99, but the Alpha Geega says no, not unless he is being
captured.

     
Pan runs around the pool, stopping at some steps where the water
looks shallow. He runs down, feeling the warm wet against his fur. He goes
deeper, almost to his waist.

     
"Pan! No! Don't get the vest wet!" Dave is yelling at
him. "You'll short it out."

     
Pan hears the vest popping, but he ignores it. He is a warrior. He
has come from a faraway place to shred and kill. He will not fail.

     
Pan backs out of the water and runs to the wood plank hanging out
over the other side. He creeps out to the end and can now almost reach the male
Geega. He grabs the underside of the wood that is hanging over the water and
stretches out as far as he can, reaching for the big Geega, but he is still too
far away. The Geega begins moving toward him. . . maybe close enough to grab.

     
Pan hears something behind him, turns, and sees another Geega
jumping up on the wall. This Geega wears a cap and has silver on his shirt. The
Geega jumps down off the wall.

     
"What the
fuck?"
the Geega says. Pan
screams his warrior scream. He runs at the new Geega standing by the gate. He
grabs him and jerks him forward. Using the knife, Pan rips him open. Blood
spews. Pan keeps jabbing and cutting. The Geega's screams are gurgles now as he
chokes on his own blood. Pan has no
mercy.

     
The Geega falls forward. Blood spills from the huge wound in his
neck. Pan jumps up and down on the ground, then snarls at his dead enemy.

   
  
Maybe this will make Dave happy. Pan
knows he must go. He turns and easily leaps over the wall, landing on the
other side, then
runs toward the van. But as he does he hears two loud bangs. He knows that
these are from a Geega fire-stick. Then a third bang. Something hits him hard
in the back. Pan flies forward, feeling nothing but the impact that turns him
in the air as he falls. Pan lands on his back and sees a second Geega wearing
the same uniform with silver pinned on his shirt. He is standing off the walkway
pointing his fire-stick. The man shoots again.

"No!" Dave Silver said,
watching on the monitor as his chimera lay bleeding in the street.

     
"Abort destruct," Norm Pettis ordered, but Silver's face
was twisted with indecision. Pettis reached out and pushed a radio detonator.
The vest Pan was wearing would react to the radio command by injecting the
chimera with an explosive chemical that would travel quickly to five areas in
Pan's body, drawn by electromagnets located in the vest. Pettis pushed a second
button, which sent a radio wave to the DARPA satellite in space, then bounced
it back to the detonator on Pan's body computer.

     
Nothing happened. The vest had shorted out.

     
Dave Silver knew Pan was mortally wounded. Pettis grabbed the mike.
"Pan! You must go. You must hide!"

     
They watched on the monitor as the deputy approached Pan, gazing
down in wonder.

     
"Pan, run! Run!" Pettis ordered angrily.

     
Surprisingly, Pan rolled to his feet and shoved the deputy aside.

     
"Son of a bitch," Pettis said softly. "These little
fuckers are tough."

     
As Dave Silver watched in awe, Pan started to run. Leaking blood,
the chimera limped up the beach road, crossed into the brush by the hillside,
then disappeared.

J
ack and Susan were halfway to Malibu in
the stolen XKE when Herman's cell phone rang. Susan dug it out of her purse and
answered.

     
"It's me." Herman's tired voice seemed to come from far
away. "We gotta meet, but I'm pretty sure these calls are being intercepted."

     
"Hang on a minute, Dad," she said and turned to Jack.
"He wants to meet."

     
"Pick some place you both know, but don't mention the
name."

     
"Dad, without saying it, remember where you took me for my
birthday?"

     
"Yeah."

     
"Meet us there. It'll take us less than an hour."

     
"Right." Herman hung up.

The separate structures that made up the
Malibu Beach Inn clung to the rocky crevices like brightly painted barnacles.
Some units were wedged into the hillside, others perched on granite pads high
above the ocean, with views that looked down on spectacular rock formations.
The entire ocean side of the inn was wrapped by a meandering patio that
contained six tables for the tiny gourmet restaurant.

     
Susan and Jack walked into the lobby and stopped at the front
desk. Herman had registered, taking two rooms under his own name.

     
Great, Herm . . . why don't you just take out an ad?
Jack thought.

     
Herman had left a note for Susan that read:
We're on the
veranda.

     
They made their way out onto the rambling, narrow cliff-side patio
and found Herman and Sandy seated at a table overlooking the ocean. The
crashing waves spewed foam that glistened in half a dozen powerful Xenon
spotlights.

     
Herman was in his lawyer mode, half-glasses perched on the end of
his nose and yellow pad open, scribbling hieroglyphic notes as they approached.

     
When Susan hugged her father he felt her damp clothing.
"You're wet," he said, looking at her with concern.

     
"So are you," Susan said. Jack turned to the Asian woman
seated with him. "You must be Sandy."

     
Herman introduced them. After Jack and Susan were seated, it took
about fifteen minutes for them to bring each other up to date.

     
Herman listened to the account of Jack's speargunning of the DARPA
commando on Lido Island and their close escape. His basset jowls were pulled
tight, and he frowned when Jack told him about the stolen Jaguar. "Where's
the car now?"

     
"In the parking lot, but I switched the plate with another
car parked there." Jack smiled. "That oughta keep the ride cool for a
few hours."