Cynetic Wolf

The smooth micro-fibers of the seat, the rhythmic bumps of the road—I was still in the car. We must be driving to Caen, to HQ. My eyes stayed shut.

At least we still had time. I flexed my hands and wiggled my toes. They were there, and they worked! It was a simulation, just virtual reality. Holy crap! I wanted to cry.

That was unreal. No wonder junkies got hooked.

Keeping my eyes closed, I slowed my breathing. They couldn’t know I’d awoken. It was the one advantage I had.

I was in the backseat, the middle, I think. Two officers from the smell of it.

“How much longer, Stev?” the whiner in the front asked. His name was Wilk from what I’d gathered.

“City’s pretty big, busy at this hour.” The driver paused, thinking. “Thirty, forty minutes, not more.” Thirty minutes… that’s it?

“Good, I’m starving. Babysitting isn’t a bad gig after what we heard about this kid. But heck, you’d think they’d feed us or sumthin’. How’s the wife by the way?”

The car stopped, and so did my heart. Were we there, already? No, he’d said thirty minutes.

“Gotta love traffic,” Wilk complained. “That them in front of us?”

“I’ll be damned, it is. Roll your window.” A brief electric whirr and a blast of fresh air and noise. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Stev, Wilk… how’s it going fellas,” a deep voice from outside boomed over the din. “How was the drive?”

“Uneventful,” Wilk said. “Kid’s been asleep, plugged into the sim the whole time. Hope they’re getting good intel. Wouldn’t want to be him, right? What ’bout you?”

“Same. Tigerish scum’s out cold.”

Fitz. He was right there… And he was alive.

Now what? I didn’t have a plan but I didn’t have time. This was my last chance.

Leaping forward, I blasted the driver in the face, taking his head off before firing at Wilk. At point-blank range, he never stood a chance. My targeting acquired the two officers in the vehicle next to us. A multi-burst shot. The first blew the window. The next two hit the officers within milliseconds. Blood splattered their bioleather seats.

Instinct told me all threats were neutralized, but I was on high alert, panicking and wired. Were they dead?

I tried the handle. The doors were locked. Leaning, I kicked it off the hinges and slammed through the ultralight steel door.

Adrenaline flowing, I dove over to the other cruiser. There were bikes, buses, and scooters everywhere. A large circle of onlookers had formed on the sidewalk, several commentating like they were filming. Were they armed?

Fitz was sprawled in the back seat, breathing labored. The doors were locked. I smashed the glass, praying no one fired. Shards flew, but I didn’t bother to duck. Grabbing Fitz’s limp arm through the gaping hole, I dragged him to the side, his stump of an ear ripping open once more.

Sirens blared and people screamed as I lifted him out. Shit. Tossing him over my shoulder, I ran, warm blood dripping down me.

The city was big, unbelievably, unthinkably, unimaginably big. Buildings stretched to the sky in all directions. I’d never seen more than a two-story hovel, except in the movies. Unreal.

Flying across the busy sidewalk, sounds and smells assaulted me: flowers, burnt rubber, yelling, sweat...

After four blocks, a small red bus pulled up and a brown haired girl in gray leaned out. “You the hybrid? That you they’re after?”

What? I looked at her and continued to run.

“It’s you. You posted on Animote Power?” she snapped.

Oh! I stopped. She had big brown ears and light fluffy fur covered her hands and cheeks.

“Chimpish?” I asked.

She nodded. “Get in before the DNS show up and take you and your friend to the Basement.” Where?

The sirens were getting louder, and a VTOL took off somewhere in the distance. Did I have a choice?

I climbed in, twisting sideways to make Fitz fit.

“Step on it, Jame!” the girl yelled. “What you waiting for?”

A small man with a greenish tint and scaly skin was at the wheel. He wore a blue hoodie pulled low, his green eyes snatching a glance at Fitz and I as we passed. He floored it and I dropped Fitz into a seat, collapsing beside him.

Where were the VTOLs? We zipped through chaotic streets as sirens faded.

“Quite a stunt you pulled there.” The girl had come to sit across from us. She was pretty—in an unconventional way—dangerous brown eyes, full lips, and a spunky smile to match her sporty physique. “You’re lucky. That’s the busiest intersection in town. Anywhere else and they’d have arrived sooner. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Who are you? Why are you helping us?” Turning, I readied my blaster, lining up the shot. I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

“Name’s Zedda.” She stuck out her hand. “We’re helping cause you asked.”

“And because you’re rare,” Jame added from upfront. “The Cause needs you.”

“Cause?” I gave her a questioning look.

She rolled her eyes. “Animote freedom. We’re fighting for equality, to end the Troubles.”

Made sense. “Rebels?” Fitz had warned me about these guys.

“That’s what the government calls us, or terrorists.” She shook her head. “We think of ourselves as freedom fighters, fighting for the rights of animotes everywhere, and to overthrow the government.”

That didn’t sound so bad. “Whoever you are, thanks. I had no idea what I was going to do.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She laughed. “You did okay, taking out two cynetics and two enhancers.”

“Two and two?” I asked.

“The decals on their cruisers. Besides, partners are always same species. DNS doesn’t mix ’em, wants to avoid conflict.”

Wait, was this another sim? I closed my eyes, concentrating.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Zedda interrupted. “This isn’t a simulation. Check your eyes, check your ears. Always have something only you know about.”

I opened my eyes and focused. She was right. Everything felt normal, no off feeling. Satisfied, I said, “Where are we headed?”

“A safe place. Can’t tell ya, at least not yet,” she added. “Security, we gotta change cars a few times.” At this point, I was beyond caring.

* * *

We screeched to a stop and my eyes bolted open. Weird, no bus. We must have switched to this delivery van at some point. I didn’t remember and that worried me.

We were inside an abandoned warehouse of some kind: high ceilings, gray sheet metal walls, no windows. Could be underground for all I knew. The lighting was artificial, the ground, concrete, and a constant weak echo.

How’d I let myself fall asleep? What was I thinking?

GPS? No luck. Like the simulated surgery, this place had jammers, but my other senses checked out. I wasn’t dreaming, this wasn’t VR. All that happened in the blink of an eye—a hundred milliseconds or less—as my eyes opened.

Zedda was looking at me. “We’re here. Grab your friend and let’s go.”

Fitz was still out? Must have been wicked sedatives. It had been twelve hours according to my SmartCore.

What if he was going through a torture sim? I punched his arm to wake him. No reaction, not even a groan. Not a good sign.

Bending, I tossed him over my shoulder and squeezed through the door.

Zedda interrupted my train of thought, “Welcome to The Initiative.” She smiled. “It’s not much, but it is all we got. Ashlo, Henk, get over here. Search him. Raek, meet Ashlo and Henk. They’re brothers, vets of the cause. Been with us for years, ever since their dad died.”

Two man-shaped mountains appeared from a hallway off the main entrance, each two meters and pushing a hundred kilos. Round black eyes, thick, matted brown fur, powerful arms and legs: bearish. Dark beards and battle-tested noses rounded out the look, and apart from a few centimeters difference, I couldn’t tell them apart.

“I’m Ashlo,” the taller one said.

“I’m Henk,” the second added.

“I’m Raek. Nice to meet you.”

“We gotta search you,” the first said.

“Standard operating procedure,” Henk added.

“You’re part cynetic?” Ashlo gave me a skeptical look.

I nodded.

“We’ll use this.” He pulled out an ominous rod.

I must have winced because Henk added, “You won’t feel a thing. Checking for bugs—”

“And weapons,” Ashlo finished. “Anything metal or biofabbed out of the ordinary. Hold out your arms—”

“Spread the legs too,” Henk commanded. “Got to ask you a few questions.”

I did as I was told, but not before priming my blasters in case. They were big, but I could probably take them.

Ashlo passed the rod over my arms, legs, and abdomen while Henk hooked polymetal sensors to my head, arms, and chest, and quizzed me on everything from where I was born to my family origins. Once satisfied, he said, “Looks like you’re clean.”

“Same here.” Henk held a cup. “Spit into this.”

“What for?” DNA was a whole nother can of worms.

Henk’s face hardened. “DNA test. Gotta make sure you are—”

“What you say you are,” Ashlo finished.

Ashlo laughed. “We’re messing with you, dude. You’re all clear. We don’t need your DNA. It’s obvious you’re cynetic and you’re wolfish. Welcome to The Initiative.” He grasped my hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Thanks,” I murmured. Finishing each other’s sentences... talk about a crappy sense of humor. “You had me going there.” I peeled off the sticky devices and handed them back to Henk.

“We’ve been working on that,” Henk said. “No one can tell us apart, figured we’d have some fun with it.” He shook my hand as well. “It’s an honor to meet you, Raek.”

Zedda reappeared. When’d she leave?

“Your room’s over here.” She led the way toward the far corner. “They do that to everyone, big goofy idiots. They’re harmless, well except in a fight,” she added with a hard stare. “They’ll rip your face off. Stone cold killers, the both of them. Other than that, they’re teddy bears.”

Was that a threat? Neither of us said anything. I’d have to watch my back.

“Wait, where’s Fitz?”

“What? Who?” She gave me a look. “Oh, your friend. I had Ashlo carry him to the medical ward to get checked out. End of this hall, on the left. He’ll be out a bit longer, but we can go see him if you want. He’s in good hands.”

“No, that’s okay. Can you show me around, get a feel for the place?” Always prepared, just in case.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. This is your room.” She opened the door. “It isn’t much, but it’s a little privacy.”

The layout was similar to old cubicle offices at the turn of the century, temporary dividers creating isolated solitude.

And she wasn’t kidding, it was small: two meters by three, maybe a hair more. The concrete floor had a simple blue mat. Everything about the place screamed underappreciated and underfunded. Made sense. When fighting the government, fundraising was tough and frills, irrelevant. I could respect that.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Laundry is where you came in and the mess is toward the middle. Upstairs has more sleeping quarters, and the fitness room, far side.” She pointed.

It was a lot to take in. I saved it all for later.

My stomach rumbled. “You said there was a mess hall.” Sounded pretty good about now. I’d kill for a good steak.

“Follow me.”

We walked a few minutes, weaving this way and that, passing many empty sleeping quarters and a few interested faces. Twice, people came to stare.

Stopping in the middle of a hall, Zedda knocked on a cell door. “Hey, Paer! Come here, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

Zedda whispered, “Agtha’s one of the oldest and most experienced members of The Initiative. Been fighting the GDR since the start of The Troubles. She was there during The Experiments, remembers the Fall. She’s kind of our oracle, our good luck charm. Everyone calls her by her last name: Paer.”

Cue the fairy godmother: wizened, kooky, with a hunched back and all.

The door opened and a wiry woman with short, caramel hair, a square face, and the eyes of an intellectual emerged. Wow, was I off... A raw energy permeated her, it was contagious. According to Zedda, she must be seventy, at least, closer to eighty. She looked thirty-five and fiery.

Paer stuck out a furry hand. “I’m Agtha, good to meet you.”

“Paer, this is Raek, the hybrid that posted on the forums. He’s legit. Wanted you to meet him.”

She nodded. “See you around.” With that, she stepped back into her quarters, closing the door.

“She can be frosty at first,” Zedda explained. “It’s not you, she’s like that with everyone. Takes a while to warm up. She’s lost so many friends in this fight, it’s hard for her with new people.”

Imagine, decades of undercover fighting...

“That’s why I wanted you to meet her. She’s rough, but critical to our operation and on the Council of Elders.” She must have noticed my confusion because she said, “Our group of elected leaders. Holds a lot of weight, given her experience. Plus, she’s an animal in the gym and the field. The Initiative’s the only family she has.”

Family... “ Zedda, can you help me with something?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe. What’s up?”

I told her about my family.

“And you want to find out what happened?” she asked.

I nodded. “I’d appreciate it. If it wouldn’t be too much to ask,” I added, feeling the beginnings of hope.

She smiled. “Sure.” In a more serious tone, she added, “You might not like what I find.”

They were okay, they had to be…

A delicious aroma hit me. “Smells good.”

“Well, it’s food,” Zedda said with a gag. “Avoid the meatloaf. Anti re-cooks it and re-serves it over and over. Anti’s the cook by the way, or at least the one who cooks,” she added with a grim grin.

“You hungry?”

She shook her head. “I need to take care of some stuff, operational updates and such. I’ll find you later.” Turning to walk away, she added, “Watch your back, Raek. I trust everyone here, but only so far. We have new recruits all the time, you never know. There’s a bounty on your head, a big one.”

She left, leaving me to think about what she’d said.

The mess was empty when I entered, except for a chubby black-haired man singing to himself as he worked away in the huge, well-equipped kitchen. Must be Anti.

“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”

The thump of the door made him jump and send a pan clattering. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He turned red as his marinara and studied me closer. “I don’t think you’ve met Anti. Are you new? I’m Anti.” He walked out of the semi-divided kitchen and offered a gloved hand. “I’m the official head chef of this mess, and I’m at your service. Today’s special, a savory spaghetti with me grandma’s signature meaty marinara. You hungry?”

I was starving and said as much.

“Help yourself. Anti’s got to get back to dinner prep. A larger than usual crew tonight.” He smiled. “Rice and beans with a side of meatloaf for over three hundred. Need anything, let Anti know.” He left, humming away.

I grabbed a seat at one of the many long wooden tables and was on my second helping when Ashlo and Henk came in. A wave. They lumbered over after loading up.

“Can be a bit intimidating, all this, I mean.” Henk motioned around us.

“It’s huge. How many people live here?”

“Ranges from about 120 up to 200-300. Tomorrow will be a big day, lot of folks coming in,” Henk added. “Average is about one-fifty.”

That’s it? “The whole resistance?” No wonder they hadn’t made more progress...

Henk chuckled. “Not even close. There are a bunch of cells around the world, and smaller grassroots movements in most towns.”

Ashlo scowled. “Should be more. We outnumber elites but we’re the repressed ‘minorities.’ How’s that possible? How’s that okay?” He shook his head in disgust.

“That’s why people like us need to start the movement, the pushers. Once we get it going, there will be followers. You’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ashlo murmured. “As long as the hippies don’t get their way.”

“Hippies?” I asked. “Why?” What did this have to do with hippies?

Henk nodded. “Heard of Martin Luther King, Jr.? Gandhi?”

“Of course I know Gandhi,” I added, louder than I’d intended.

Ashlo rolled his eyes. “His whole thing was a peaceful protest. Sitting in squares, civil disobedience… that kind of thing.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“It doesn’t work!” Henk growled. “The elites don’t give a shit about us.”

“What Henk means,” Ashlo cut in, “is since The Experiments and subspecies divide, elites feel justified in their position. In Luther’s era, in Gandhi’s time, people were the same, intrinsically equal. That’s why slavery was abolished, democracy thrived, and everyone could vote. But today, they say: ‘Should we give pigs and cows the right to vote?’ That’s how they view us…”

“But is war the answer?” I said. “Isn’t there another way?”

“You mean a sit-in, a demonstration?” Ashlo replied.

I nodded. “Yeah. If we banded together—”

“Two groups tried it, one in Zone Three and one west of here. It wasn’t pretty.” Henk gritted his teeth. “Several hundred gunned down in each. Rumor is, Minister of Security Fury ordered the DNS to open fire on protesters that wouldn’t disband.” He sighed, we all did.

I felt their hopelessness. They were on edge, they needed something. They needed a miracle.

They needed hope.