Wyatt awoke with a start. He
thought he could hear the scream of a black panther! His throat was dry and he was shivering. He rubbed his head in his hands to stop the
tingling. Inhaling deeply, he tried to
shut out the memory of his dream. A
black panther escaped from the zoo and had leapt up onto the fire escape and
was trying to break into his sister’s bedroom to drag her off into the dark
night. He resisted the urge to go to
Annie’s room, now fully awake, realizing it had been only a dream. It
just had seemed so realistic! The
problem was that he lived in New York City and nowhere near a zoo.
He went to the window and looked out over the city. He had never seen a black panther in real
life, but he had heard them. He had
visited his grampa’s ranch in Wyoming.
Sometimes at after sunset he and his grandfather stayed out by the
chicken coop long into the night, warding off mountain lions and bobcats with
warning shots from his shotgun. Wyatt
could hear the coyotes calling in the distance, their howling seemed like
crying. It gave him the shivers. “What, boy?” He had noticed him shirking at
their mourning. His grandfather’s beard
had a way of muffling his voice. “You better get a thicker skin than that. Dad gummed city slicker,“ he scoffed. “That’s
what you are, boy.” Laughing, he thumped
Wyatt on the back with an open hand and mussed the hair on his head.
Then they heard the angry scream coming from
the grove of trees down by the dried up creek bed. “Grampa, what was that?” Wyatt asked him,
stammering through chattering teeth.
Grampa scanned the tree line, visible in the full moon. He said, “That, my boy, is a puma, a black
panther, the rarest and fiercest of all the vermin that roams these here
hills. Legend has it, they have been
known to carry children into the night, never to be seen again.” Wyatt was speechless. He thought of his six year old sister Annie. “Grampa,
this better n-not b-be one of your j-jokes again,” Wyatt stammered.” Wyatt looked into his eyes, hoping the old man
would return his inquiry with a grin and a wink. But Grandpa never smiled. His gaze never wavered from the moonlit tree
line. In between the angry feline
screeches, Wyatt’s grandfather would grunt a little. Once, he sighed and said, mysteriously, ”Only
God knows what’s in store for the world any more.” He rubbed the flat of his
hand on Wyatt’s back and said, soothingly, “Not to worry, son. You’re all right. Besides, I got my trusty iron to protect us.” He gripped the stock of his double-barreled
shotgun and thrust it upward into the sky. The barrels gleamed in the night
moon. Wyatt would never forget sound of
that panther screeching at the moon. The
sound was different than any sound he had ever heard. He thought the only thing that was close was
the shrill pitch of a rat cornered by a
cat in New York’s alley ways, only louder.
His grandfather thought it might be the only earthly sound that
resembled the death call of the Irish banshee.
Grampa explained that the puma could smell the chickens and wanted
nothing more than to have an easy chicken supper. What surprised Wyatt the most was that Grampa
said the Puma would stop at nothing to get past the hen to her eggs!
By the
end of the summer, Grampa had built fences and nettings around the coup to keep
out the vermin. He stationed dogs all
around the pen in order to warn him of any intruders. “Well, it ain’t quite
free range chickens we’ve got here, but at least they’ll survive until I can
get them to market.” The hens seemed to cluck in concert. “Poor hens, “ thought Wyatt, “They can’t win,
can they?” Wyatt was relieved for Grandfather, not having to worry about the
bobcats and mountain lions getting into the coop. He thought perhaps the Puma could break into
the pen, though, especially if it had been known to carry children into the
night. He comforted himself in the
knowledge that at age 12, he wore a size 13 shoe and weighed close to 180
pounds. No small child was he. He was also relieved he would not have to
stay up into the night in the cold summer air listening to the coyotes wailing
at the moon and panthers screaming like the banshee with lust for chicken
eggs. Later, in the fall, when he had
returned home for school, he had a deeper appreciation for the eggs he ate for
breakfast. He wanted to tell his mother
but the memory of that ear-shattering screaming blocked is ability to
speak.
He went to the parlor and opened the
sliding glass door. The roaring of
traffic rushed up at him from the streets. In the distance he could hear the night train
tearing down the track. “Who rides a
train at night anyway?” he asked himself.
He imagined the cars totally empty except for some old man reading a
newspaper, or maybe a rat eating the engineer’s lunch. He laughed out loud. Suddenly, he got the chills and decided to
go in to bed again. Just as he was
closing the sliding door he heard the scream again! This time it was louder! And he understood why! The screaming was coming from Central Park to
the North! He wondered if the cat was
loose or if it had wandered into the city from up state. He wondered if he should call the
police. He grabbed his cell phone and
tweeted, ”Anybody hear that screaming from the park?” No one responded. He wondered if it was his imagination. He went back out on the balcony and listened.
Silence. After awhile he went to his room and wrapped
himself in the covers, burying his head under a pillow. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to
endure that awful screaming anymore.
Much to his surprise, he slept soundly, a dreamless sleep. He had awoken before the alien sounds on his
smart phone blew out his eardrums. He
jumped in the shower and tried to remember his dreams. The hot water trickled out of the spout like
the water from the old hand pump at Grampa’s farm. He remembered how the pump squealed as he
pulled up and down on the handle and he made a note to himself to remember to
write a work order for the superintendent.
This was getting ridiculous. Suddenly,
he remembered the panther scream! That
had not been any dream! Quickly he shut
off the water and dried himself. He ran
to his nightstand in his robe. His
twitter page was blank. Apparently, he had been the only one to endure that dreadful shrieking! He turned on the morning news and there was
no mention of it.
Maria, the housekeeper, let herself in.
She always left the paper on the kitchen counter. Before he knew it he had sprung out of his
room, across the parlor and was scouring the paper intently.
Maria looked at him from across the kitchen bar, stunned. Her mouth hung open and her arms were frozen. She stared at her hands as if she had still
been holding the newspaper. Eventually,
she toddled off to the laundry room, mumbling something in Ilocano.
Wyatt was impervious to her existence.
He had been staring dumbfounded at an article on the second page of The New York Times. The body of a Russian mobster had been found
in Central Park. Time of death had been
approximately 3:00 a.m. Wyatt looked at
his Twitter page again. He had tweeted that
he heard the scream at 3:05 a.m.
Apparently the Russian had no family in the U.S. They had even printed his name, Mikhail Romanov;
he was apparently a very bad man. The
weapon had been some sort of multi-bladed knife, like a claw. The article went on to
say that the body had been found near a park bench at the edge of the park. “But why had the Panther screamed?” Wyatt mused. Perhaps he was mixing his dreams
with reality. It just did not seem right
that no one else had heard the screams.
At school, in science class, Lacey, the girl in 28b and Wyatt’s bestie,
noticed that Wyatt had been wearing a “far away look” all morning. He told her to be ready when the bell
rang. He wanted to be first in line for
lunch.
They sat in the buttery near the stairs.
He took one bite of his meat loaf and winced. Hurriedly, he finished the fruit cocktail,
mashed potatoes and gravy. He opened his
chocolate milk and pushed the tray away.
Burying his head in his hands, Wyatt moaned, “Why me? O, why, o,
why?” For the first time Lacey looked up
from her meatloaf. “What happened to you?” Lacey queried. She tilted her head to one side, the tip of
her hair touching her shoulder. She dove back into her meatloaf. “I love this stuff,” she muttered. “Aren’t
you going to eat your meatloaf, Wyatt?” He shoved his tray at her disappointedly.
“Did you hear anything strange this morning, say, around 3?” He
asked. Wyatt waited for her to finish
chewing. “No, why?” She asked, squirting
catsup into her mashed potatoes. Wyatt
looked away, agitated. He sighed heavily
and said. “It’s no use.” He got up to
leave. “Wyatt, sit down.” Lacey
commanded. She pointed to an empty space
on the table in front of her. “Tell me
what happened to you, Wyatt. I am dying
to know.” She smiled. He relented, sitting
down with his legs in the aisle, ready to bolt if she grossed him out
again.
He told her about the screams and the article about the Russian mobster
in the newspaper. She told him it was
probably nothing, especially since nobody had reported anything that sounded
like a panther scream. “That is creepy,
though, Wyatt. I don’t envy you,” she
said, concerned.
Later that night, Wyatt, tossed and turned in his bed. He scoured the internet on his tablet PC,
looking for information on Mikhail Romanov. What he found was disturbing. The mobster was not a nice man, to say the
least. He was known to have been a drug
trafficker and was a strong arm in the Russian district. If that wasn’t bad enough Romanov was wanted
for the murder of five people! Wyatt put on his best Russian accent. He made a video of himself wearing a fedora,
“You gotta pay, you know. You owe me money.
Pay me money? I liv you alawn. You dawn’t to pay it, I gonna make you eat mosh
potato, mosh potato with catsup.” He
laughed to himself and sent the video to Lacey. “ Surprisingly, she texted him. “What are you doing up? You’re so funny!” Just then, he heard it--the high-pitched
screaming. His hair seemed to stand on
end. His legs felt tingly and it seemed
as if he could feel his hair growing. “Hear that?” he texted her
frantically. Suddenly her face was on
the screen. “Wyatt, what are you talking
about? He sat up and turned on the
light. “Lacey, listen!” She was quiet. “There it is, again!” Lacey’s eyes looked wide and she said, “I
hear it! O my goodness! What the?” Wyatt yelled, “I’m coming down!” He flew to the window and opened it. He scurried out onto the fire escape and zipped
down two floors and tapped on Lacey’s window.
She opened the window and climbed out onto fire escape. She was still wearing her pajamas and what
looked like her mother’s house slippers.
Eager, he said, “We have to go to Central Park!” They sprung down the stairs and glided down
the ladder onto the street. They hit the
ground running on the balls of their feet to keep the noise down. Wyatt slowed to a walk a block away. Lacey caught up to him and steadied herself by
grasping the crook of his arm. “I’m
scared,” she panted. Still walking, Wyatt said, ”Don’t worry, I got your
six.” Wyatt wasn’t sure she didn’t know
what that meant, but she seemed reassured.
As they crossed the street into
the park, Wyatt saw movement in the trees.
His grandfather had trained him to always be on the lookout for
movement. Wyatt froze in his
tracks. He saw a figure whisking through
the park with unearthly speed! He ran to
the fence and peered between the bars.
The dark figure stopped before reaching the fenced pond and raised its
head at the moon and then there was the scream, long, piercing and
dreadful. Lacey covered her ears,
cringing. The figure knelt, as if on all
fours and bounded over the fence and into
the pond without making a splash. Lacey followed Wyatt into the entrance. They were close enough to the pond to detect
any ripples on the water in the silvery moon.
They studied the surface of the pond, hoping to get a closer look at the
dark creature. Whatever it was did not
come up for air. They walked to the
center of the clearing where they had first seen the dark figure. What
began as a log in the clearing began to take shape as a human body, lying still
on the ground. Lacey froze, refusing to
go further. She told Wyatt she wanted to
go home. She turned to run. But Wyatt
stopped her. “We have to report this,” he said.
Frightened and distressed, Lacey cried, sarcastically, “Okay, but we can
call from the apartment! Hello!” She ran
toward the street and he called after her, “Lacy!” It was no use; Lacy kept running. Wyatt
called 911. Within seconds they heard sirens heading their direction. Wyatt caught up with Lacy by the fire
escape. She pulled down the ladder and sailed up the stairs to her room. Without a word, she shut the window behind
her and drew the curtains closed. Wyatt
figured she was as tired as he was and walked slowly up to his room to get some
sleep before school started.
The next morning Wyatt met Maria at the door and grabbed the paper from
her. He turned immediately to the second
page. This time she seemed ready. As opened the door, she slipped the paper
through the opening to avoid Wyatt’s abruptly stealthy behavior.
There it was. The story. This one entailed the murder of Moxy Ferguson,
an Irish union rep, well known for extortion and battery. Moxy was a known drug dealer and killer. There had been rewards for information as to
his whereabouts in the last few years.
Now he was dead. Wyatt was
freaking out in his mind. Where had that
horrible screaming come from? It gave
him the chills just thinking about it.
He had definitely heard the blood-curdling scream when the dark figure
raised its head railing at the moon.
The figure looked human, but that had not been a sound Wyatt had ever
heard coming from humans.
Wyatt’s father worked for the city in the planning department. After
school he visited his father in his office.
He asked him if he knew where the water drained to when the ponds were
drained from central park. His father
proudly informed him that it had been his
idea to create an aqua duct that lead to the water treatment plant far
beneath the city. The ponds all drained into the aqua duct directly beneath
fenced off pond. There was a huge valve
system beneath the pond, but the valves were remotely operated by the city
water treatment facility. Wyatt asked his father for a blue print of the
drainage system. His father told him
that he would have to order it from archives and it would come to him in 72
hours. He wanted to know why he wanted
the blue print. Wyatt told him it was
for a project he was working on at school.
Wyatt was so tired he slept soundly that night. He decided to eat granola cereal for
breakfast. Hearing the spoon scraping
against the bowl reminded him of all the screeching he been enduring lately. Then he remembered his dream…
Annie had fallen asleep in his room watching
TV. Instead of carrying her back to her
own room, he had thrown a poncho over her and tucked her in on the chaise and
then went back to playing his game online.
Concentrating intently, he played into the long hours of the night. He thought he had heard something on the fire
escape but ignored it. All of sudden, the panthers’ death scream made
him fly out of his chair and onto the top level of his bunk bed, forgetting his
sister. The window over the fire escape
exploded and a giant black panther leapt into Wyatt’s room. There was glass
everywhere. The giant feline seemed to
walk in a circle around the room hissing and growling. As quickly as it came into the room, it
grabbed Annie in its mouth and dragged her by the shoulder out the window and
into the alley, hissing and growling. Its
yellow eyes were fixed on Wyatt. All the
while, Wyatt was screaming at the cat to get out of his room and he had woken
up screaming, “Get out of my head you
filthy beast!” Instinctively, he had run into Annie’s
room and saw that she was okay, still asleep in her bed. Surprisingly, though Wyatt had been startled,
he had gone back to sleep, relieved that Annie was safe in her room.
Munching intently on his cereal that morning, Wyatt heard Maria’s keys
jingling down the hall. Wyatt thought
his dreams had surely been infused with the screams of the real panther he had
been hearing! Wyatt flew to the door,
grabbing the paper from her before she had even shut the door. She stared
at him, bewildered. Her mouth was agape
again and she seemed to hold a phantom newspaper. She
asked him why he was so interested in the newspaper all of a sudden. He had never used to read it before, only the
sports and comics if he could find them.
But Wyatt just shrugged and read the front-page
story keenly. This time the murder involved a woman,
Sylvania Moreno, the heartless drug cartel leader from Bogota. She had murdered countless young teens with a
bad batch of designer drugs, and was known for issuing contracts on drug
dealers who tried to undercut her. Wyatt
saw the pattern. The people who died
had all died at around 3:00 a.m. and they were all horrible people, killers, and
drug dealers. “Pond scum,” thought
Wyatt. “Good riddance.”
Lacey had avoided him today. He tried to video chat with her with but she
did not respond. Bothered, he climbed
down to her window and tapped. She came
to the window and mouthed, “Go away!” She
looked down, munching on a peanut. Smiling,
he mouthed back, “Open up,” raising his eyebrows and miming the motion of
pulling open the window. She frowned and
let go the curtain. He stomped up and
down. The fire escape sang its metallic
tone, making it seem as though he was going back up to his room. As soon as he saw the curtain move again, he
leaped back down on the landing. His
wide smile encountered a frown. The
glass muffled her angry words, “No, go home!” His smile waned and he turned sullenly, to
walk back up the stairs. He looked at
her and feigned wiping a tear from his eye.
Head down, he slowly lifted one leg and leaned forward in slow
motion. He could hear giggling coming
from the window and robotically he turned to look at Lacey. She was laughing and held her hands on her
hips, shaking her head. “I knew it would
work,” he thought. She opened the window
and climbed out onto the landing. The
moon was rising over Manhattan and the city was alive as usual. They sat in silence, listening to he city and
staring at the near full moon. Wyatt could
hear the cooing of pigeons and the honking of horns, and some one yelling two
floors below across the alleyway. “Get
ova yaself, ya quack!” Then, “Forget about it!”
Just before the window slammed shut he heard, “Are you outa your
freaking mind?” He laughed, wondering
what his grandfather would think if he heard all this. Lacey finally broke the ice between them,
saying,” I heard it last night, the panther screams. I was going to text you but my phone was dead
and, besides, I did not want to go
back into that park. OMG I was so
scared. “
“Me, too, Lacey. Sorry. I didn’t
know what to expect.”
“Certainly not a dead body--That’s for sure,” Lacey leaned toward him
and their shoulders collided. “ Wyatt
took this as her way of accepting his apology.
She offered him a handful of peanuts.
They threw the shells down into the alleyway. He
could hear Lacey’s mother calling her.
In an instant she was back in her room. Wyatt lunged up one flight of
steps and waited. In what seemed like a
lifetime Lacey finally stuck her head
out the window and smiled. “Call
me.” He knew what she meant and gave her
two thumbs up and a smile. He got into
his night clothes and fell asleep with a smile on his face, thinking of Lacey
and how she made him smile.
That night there was nothing, and the next night…no screaming. No murders.
In a way, Wyatt was relieved, but he wondered if he would ever know who
or what was behind those murders. Out of
curiosity he went with Lacey to his father’s office to look at the blue prints
for the pond drain. Carefully, they traced
the drain line at the bottom of the pond to a viaduct that went directly
underneath their building. He looked at
key at the bottom of the blue print and found that manholes that were marked
with the New York City flood plane logo did not intersect with the sewer lines.
His had father explained that the
viaduct had been installed to prevent water waste. If one of the lakes had to be drained the
water from the lake was routed to the water treatment facility so that it could
be treated for drinking water. Wyatt
thought, “If another murder happened, that was where they would look to catch
the killer. “ Wyatt’s father looked over his glasses at he and Lacey, smiling
at their curiosity. Coyly he asked what
kind of trouble they had gotten themselves into. Wyatt pretended not to hear his dad and
asked for some money to eat ice cream in the cafeteria before heading
home. Reluctantly, Wyatt’s father gave
them each five dollars for the cafeteria and settled back into his desk,
seemingly preoccupied with what had just happened. “Thanks, Dad.
You’re the best, “yelled Wyatt and the pair ran down the hall to the elevator.
In the cafeteria, Wyatt and Lacey planned their next move. First, they would find the manhole into the
aqua-duct and pack some survival gear.
They used the money his father had given them to buy candy bars and beef
jerky from the cafeteria vending machine.
They bought water and a first aid kit from the dollar store on the way
home from the office. They packed
flashlights and a knife into the knapsack.
That night the screaming began at
2:15. He met Lacey in the alleyway and
they ran to the manhole. Lacey stuffed
her peanuts in the bag. The screaming
subsided and the sirens began. Lacey
lowered herself onto the ladder in the manhole.
She seemed to glide to the bottom.
Wyatt shone the light for her as she descended. Wyatt pulled the manhole cover partially back
into place so as not to raise suspicion from the night beat. The
viaduct had a small amount of water slowly running down the center. The viaduct
smelled like the subway, sort of dank and musty. Lacey,
covered her mouth and nose with a scarf.
When Wyatt finally joined her they walked slowly toward Central
Park. Wyatt walked deliberately on his
tippy toes to reduce the noise. Lacey
followed his example. They each walked
on either side of the stream that travelled down the center. They walked slowly to reduce the noise. But soon it didn’t matter for the viaduct
roared to life with the sound of rushing water.
The pair started running back toward the manhole. Wyatt reached the ladder first but Lacey was
too late. She had grabbed him around the
waist but the ten-foot wall of water overpowered her and she slipped away from
him. Wyatt had held on to the ladder as
the wave crashed into him but when he realized Lacey was gone, he released his
grip and swam into the current. He could only think of Lacey. He had to get to her. Soon he could no longer hold his breath. He tried to swim to the top to get some
air. But he did not know which way was
up or down. He did not want to die in
the bowels of New York City. Something
in him made him fight and he struggled to keep his body from tumbling
uncontrollably. Seconds later he could no longer take the pain
in his chest and he felt like his head would explode and as he let go his last breath he thought he would cough
uncontrollably but his lungs just filled with water like two lemonade pitchers. Instinctively he inhaled and exhaled and that
led to swallowing and then he could not move, and he was thinking about his
Grandfather, his mother and father, Annie, even Maria and just before sleep
overpowered him, Wyatt felt the DARK FIGURE gliding eerily along beside
him and the dark giant put his arm around Wyatt’s waste and held him
tight. They spiraled down deeper in the
earth into the tube and then there was
Lacey up ahead in calmer water, her pixie hair glowing in the light from
her headlamp, which fallen around her neck and was pointing up at her
chin. Then the dark figure grabbed Lacey
with his other arm and Wyatt blacked out.
He woke up alone in a warehouse coughing and sputtering. As soon as he could breathe he was calling
for Lacey. How could he have let her
go? “Lacey!” He sobbed. He wanted to sit up and look for her. But he was too weak and he couldn’t bear the
thought of seeing her lifeless body.
What had he been thinking? How
could he have been so stupid? He began
sobbing uncontrollably. “Lacey! I’m
sorry, Lacey. I never meant to hurt you,”
he cried, holding his arm over his eyes.
He passed out again dreaming of Lacey.
He dreamt he swam back into the tube to save her and then they were running
in Grampa’s meadow and horseback riding in the hills. He had always wanted to take her to Grampa’s
farm. He knew she would love it there
and suddenly in his dream Grampa was scolding him with a strange angry voice,
almost like a cat fending off a dog.
“You should never have come near here!” The voice hissed and he opened
his eyes with a start. His grandfather
would never say that. His grandfather
loved him and hated that Wyatt had to live in the City with that dingbat of a
man he had to call his father. A lamp hung low from the ceiling and he detected
movement. He could hear water dripping
and echoing. He knew then that he was
still underground. A pair of golden eyes
loomed over him in the shadows “Who’s there?”
He called. The veil of darkness receded
and there was only the dark figure. He
was massive! He towered over seven feet
tall and was extremely muscular. He wore
a black wetsuit with a hoody. The dark
man indeed had black skin and straight hair crept from beneath the hoodie at
the brow line. His eyes were an eerie jaundice
with black pupils. “Cat’s eyes, “
thought Wyatt. He tried to focus on what he was going to say to him. He was trying to be reasonable. Afterall, the dark figure had saved his life!
“What did you do with, Lacey?” He belched as if he had been swimming in the
school pool all day. The man seemed to
smile revealing thick, sharp fangs instead of canine teeth. The man’s forehead was very small and he
seemed to have one very bushy eyebrow extending the width of his forehead,
incredibly thick and extending onto the bridge of his nose. Wyatt wondered if he would have to shave his
eyebrow for a date. Then he realized
this was no time to be funny. How would
he explain to Lacey’s mother that he let her drown in the aqua-duct? His mind reeled and suddenly he was
vomiting. Volumes of pond water flowed
out of him and on to floor. Wyatt didn’t
care, and it didn’t smell that bad anyways. He felt better after expunging the pond water
from his stomach and the dark figure began to speak to him in low raspy tones. Handing Wyatt a towel, he began, “Lacey is
the girl, I presume. She’s fine. She is
sleeping. Don’t worry. She is warm and dry.” The dark man’s voice
was comforting.
But Wyatt felt compelled to fist pump the air. “Yes!” he cried. I knew she would make it. “Lacey!”
He felt his strength returning. Suddenly,
a thought came to him. “This had been
the fourth night of the screaming! Who
had the dark figure killed this night?
Wyatt realized he was in the same room as a murderer. He had heard the
screaming and watched the man fly over the fence and into the pond. Why had he risked his escape in order to save Lacey
and him? “
Wyatt decided to save his questions for later. His mind was pure panacea, but part of him
felt reassured, safe. The dark man went on,” I am Captain Felix Knight of the
US. Army. I have been sent here on a
mission. You must promise never to
repeat any of this to anyone.” Wyatt
nodded, intrigued. “As you know the good city has lost its way and is overrun
by criminals like Mikhail Romanov, Moxy Ferguson, Sylvania Sanchez and Vido Pellegrino.
“
“There’s your answer, Wyatt,” he thought to himself. “The fourth night, the fourth man.” Pellegrino
had been the most relentless killer of all men.
He didn’t believe in using guns or hiring hit men. He attacked his victims personally in their
sleep with a meat tenderizer made of ironwood, bludgeoning them
mercilessly. Once, he pulled a man from
his car and beat him to death right in front of his family. And he had such an army of mobsters that the
police were afraid of him. He seemed
invincible.
Wyatt was beginning to understand. Captain knight continued his
explanation as to how the government felt threatened by New York’s crime rings
so it sent ARMY mercenaries to make an example of its leaders. So far all the victims had been found with
slash marks across the neck and chest and blood coming out of their ears. Wyatt had read that the claw marks were not
lethal, would not have killed a person.
Blood coming from the ear and nose usually meant some sort of blunt
force trauma, but the victims were seemingly untouched other than the slashes,
the CLAW MARKS! Wyatt had suddenly wanted to see the
Captain’s hands. He was afraid,
frozen--unable to move. “Now it’s
question time,” Wyatt thought to himself.
How would he start?
“Where is Lacey?” He asked. “I want to see her,” he said. Captain Knight clapped twice and the room brightened. There was Lacey across the room, sleeping on
a cot. A nurse sat by her bedside writing
something. She looked at Captain Knight
and smiled. He clapped again and the
lights went out. “She’ll be fine,” he
said.” She just needs to rest.”
“When
can we go home?” Wyatt asked. He suddenly became very hungry. He thought of his mother’s poached eggs,
toast with jam, and a hot bowl of oatmeal. Stifling his hunger pangs, he blurted out, ”What
are you, though? Are you some kind of
mutant? Your eyes, and that…big cat war
cry.” He covered his ears at the thought of the
horrible death knell. “And why are you so tall and fast? Shaq is over 7 foot and I know he can’t run
that fast and I don’t think he can swim either, at least not like you. Don’t take it the wrong way, but Dude, you’re
a freak!”
Captain Knight feigned devastation.
He put his black hand against his furry forehead and swooned. Then, laughing he began a raspy narrative
about how he was human but had not been born of the womb of a woman. He had been brought to life in a lab in
Panama, that the genes of the Puma had been painstakingly imbibed into his DNA
and he had certain “advantages.”
“Let’s put it this way,” he said.
“I have been genetically engineered to serve the government of the
United States of America. I am a weapon
of war. I destroy evil and protect the innocent.”
“Like Lacey?” Wyatt queried?
“And you.” Captain Knight added,
his eyes seemed to become more golden, less intense, but somehow brighter.
Wyatt sighed, trying to block the image of Lacey under the water with
the light in her hair. She had looked so
peaceful, weightless…like a giant delicate daisy. He shuddered, and suddenly asked, “But why
could no one hear the screaming? Why
could only Lacey and I hear that death knell? I mean, what are you--the Irish
Banshee? The Grimm reaper?”
“Truthfully,” Captain Knight began, ”my war cry is inaudible to
humans.” He stared at Wyatt concretely.
“What, do I look non-human to you?
Lacey—you saw her. She’s so…well,
you know what I mean.” Wyatt was
referring to her near perfect beauty, but could not verbalize it. Somehow he knew that it would lead people to
believe that he had a crush on her.
Subconsciously, he knew, however, that not even he was ready for anything
beyond being close friends with Lacy.
“Actually, the reason you can hear the war cry is because you are both
gene hosts.” Wyatt wanted to vomit
again. “What the hell is a gene host?”
Wyatt asked. Captain Knight explained
that scientists had discovered the best way to store the gene was to implant it
into humans, before they are born. They
call it a rider gene. While you take on
no physical characteristics of the gene, appearance wise, you have certain abilities,
like enhanced hearing and quickness.”
That could explain why Lacey could so quickly climb in and out of the window
on the fire escape, and why Maria was so bewildered when he had seemed to fly
across the room to grab the newspaper.
But Wyatt was still perplexed.
“Then how did those people die, if not from sheer terror? Not that there’s any love lost or anything,
but how do you do it? I have to
know.” Wyatt told the captain about what
he had read in the papers about the Central Park killings. Do you know they call you the Central Park silent
killer?” Between the two of them, only
Wyatt seemed to appreciate the irony of the situation.
“Without getting into details, what kills them is sonar, combined with a
massive coronary,” the captain said.
“How is that possible? Wyatt
inquired?” He thought of the whales that
were beached in Australia a few weeks ago.
It is said that the Navy had sonar so horrific that the whales were
trying to escape the pain. Some had died
and blood had been found in their ears.
The
captain held up his gloved hand and flexed his wrist as if he were about to
swat at a ping-pong ball, a throaty hiss escaped him and filled the room. Claws extended beyond his fingertips through the gloves. Wyatt was thunderstruck. “He does have claws!” The claws where shiny
and grey, like gun metal. The captain
shredded the extra cot in the room with ease.
Wyatt thought his brain would explode! ”That’s where the heart attack
comes in,” the Captain said, nonchalantly.
He imagined the huge man-cat tearing around in the night hissing and ripping
the flesh of his victim. “Then all I
have to do is—,” he reared back his head and opened his mouth wide revealing
his sharp teeth. Wyatt plugged his ears
and bellowed, “Nooooooooooo, I don’t want to die!” He closed his eyes and waited for the death
knell. But it did not come. Slowly he opened his eyes and pulled his
hands away from his ears.
“Don’t worry, kid. I am not
wearing the device. It’s hand held and
you’re right it does sound like the banshee, to you. It has such high frequencies that no normal
human can hear it. To you it sounds so
horrific, I’m sure. The death knell, as you call it, is much like an
amplifier. It produces concentrated
sound waves, so powerful that the brain turns to mush.”
“But why did you save us?” Asked Wyatt?
“I felt something strange when I jumped into the lake. As a soldier, I am trained cue in on those feelings
as a form of premonition. Reluctantly, I
released the valve at the bottom of the lake that leads into the viaduct. There was a bit of a jam this time and more
water was released that normal. So when
I finally got the valve closed, I had let go 400,000 gallons of water. But I knew if anyone was in that viaduct, I
was going to have to save them. I pushed
off the valve and I saw you first,” he said, looking at Wyatt. “I had to determine if you were a threat so I
swam along beside you and somehow I knew you were a gene host. When I put my arm around your waist I knew
there had to be another rider in the viaduct.
So I swam as hard as I could and then I found Lacy in the junction
reservoir that leads into the water treatment facility.”
Wyatt assumed “rider” meant some kind of slang for gene host. He was going to have to get used to being a
rider. It would take some time.
Lacey appeared from the darkness.
She was wearing a white night gown and robe and someone else’s tennis
shoes with no socks. Her head was
wrapped in a blue towel. He thought she
looked magical, like a genie. She scuffled
timidly toward the cot where Wyatt was sitting. “I—I,”
Wyatt started. But he couldn’t find words. “Don’t say anything,
Wyatt. This is not your fault. Shh!”
She had a way of weakening him so he was quiet. “Lacy, this is Captain Kni—“
“I know already, I have enhanced HEARING! Remember? Look,” she said. “Can we get outa here? I have to go to school.”
The nurse appeared with Lacey’s dry clothing. “Come on she said, “Let’s get you
dressed.” Lacey got up and flittered
across the room in bare feet. She was
ready. Wyatt’s clothes were on the cot
beside him. They got dressed and took an
elevator to the street.
The sun
was rising over the city and the air was clean and rich, for it had rained that
night and the rain carried the dirt in the air down the gutter and the city was
alive and clear of one more of its predators and the people of the city
rejoiced because they no longer had to live in fear of the Napoleonic character
that carried a meat tenderizer.
The weeks and months that followed were mostly uneventful for Wyatt and
Lacey. At first she avoided him. He let
her have her space but he shadowed her, protecting her. He knew she was concerned for him as well,
but couldn’t show it. He caught her
looking at him a few times in Science class.
He found peanut shells outside the window on the fire escape. He knew they were hers…just knew. He had heard footsteps in the hallway early
in the morning before Maria arrived and when he looked he saw her golden hair
flit through the doorway into the elevator lobby. She
must have been embarrassed to knock, he thought. Girls
are so weird, he concluded.
One day, he had waited by the school exit for her to leave. He counted to 120, like he always did and
began his pursuit. He could see her
picking her way through the throng of people on 42nd street. She was always walking faster than everyone
else. Sometimes she ran, and he easily
kept up with her. He too, after all was
a rider. Now that he knew it, he also
knew why he had always felt so protective of her. This day, Lacey went past their apartment
building and into the building where his father worked and she pushed the down button on the elevator! That was the elevator they had emerged from
after having nearly drowned in the guts of the city. He had been watching her from across the
street. He bolted, zipping between cars
in the slow moving traffic. Before he
could reach her, she stepped into the elevator and she gazed at him as the
doors closed. He pounded on the door and
yelled, “Lacey! Where are you
going?” No answer and he could hear the
elevator hissing down beneath the street.
He ran for the stairs and flew down each flight without touching a
single step. He used his arms to launch
him off the railings. He stopped in the
cafeteria, but she was not there.
Panting, he resumed his descent.
As he emerged from the stairwell at the bottom, he caught a glimpse of
her at the end of the hallway. He
sprinted to the end of the hall, surprised at his endurance. He entered the room where he and Lacey had
recovered from their adventure in the viaduct.
Lacey and the nurse were chatting excitedly. The nurse laughed when she saw Wyatt running
into the room. “You were right! “ She
said, resuming her laughter. Lacey scoffed, “Please! Didn’t I tell you I have known this kid since
before we could walk?”
“What is this all about?”
Demanded Wyatt. “Lacey what are
you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me
you were coming here?” “Shut up, punk.” She said coyly. “Do you think you are so sly, following me
everywhere I go? What would be so
different about today?” She asked. Wyatt
felt that weakness again and he clammed up, knowing he could never win in
argument against her. He was really just
glad she had spoken to him. He would
never admit it but he felt hurt each time she looked away from him.
The nurse brought popcorn and iced tea.
They followed her into a room where the concrete floors were polished
and there was a large screen TV. A giant
sofa lay in the middle of the room and the nurse sat down. Naturally, Lacey disappeared into the
peanuts. “Some things never change,”
thought Wyatt.
Abruptly, still acting angry, he asked, “Why did you bring us
here?” The nurse extended her hand. “I don’t believe we have been properly
introduced, “ she said. I am Felicity
Bueno, first sergeant in the United States Army.” Wyatt took her hand, “Charmed,” he said
buoyantly, recognizing her attempt to assuage his temperament. “Have some popcorn, Wyatt. No extra charge!” Wyatt stifled a laugh. He liked her.
He found out soon enough why they had brought to the “game” room. She wanted to discuss their role as
riders. Felicity, too was a rider. They talked of the ongoing take down of the
mob. Gangsters and drug dealers were
falling like flies and the authorities had no idea what was going on. The FBI had gotten involved and they were
dumbfounded. The desired effects of
their methods were effective. The public
began to believe that some supernatural force was attacking Evil--that good had
finally begun to prevail. They called
upon spiritual mediums and psychics the world over and the answers seemed to
get lost in a quagmire of theories and suppositions about the end of the world. Captain Knight, it seemed was not alone. The murders had begun in other pockets of the
country, Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, Dallas and Los Angeles.
“What will happen when the job is done?” Asked Lacey. “What will happen to Captain Knight? How will he live? He’s so different from everyone else. But I like him,” she seemed to regret what
she had just said. Wyatt pondered the
question, listening intently to Felicity’s answer. “We are forming an army,” she began, “a new
army, one that can defeat any foe around the world.” “We must defend our nation. We will not stop at the destruction of the
mob. We will clean up our corrupt government
and by that time our army will be strong enough to take over any invader.”
“Are their other armies,” asked Wyatt? “I mean--do other countries have armies?”
“Yesss, “ the answer came from a shadow in the room and the eyes were
there again, luminous and golden. Wyatt,
thought of golden-rod Ping-Pong balls floating above columns of air, like he
had seen in science class. Felicity
stood up and clapped and the lights came on.
She smiled as she said cheerily, “Well, you never cease to amaze me,
Captain, Knight! Welcome!” The captain was there, had been there, filling the room with his
feline smile. Lacey tensed up, but
relaxed when he continued his answer, “We suspect that Russia has a similar
army, and China. We don’t believe they
are as yet as active as our own, but the threat is there.”
Lacey looked at Wyatt and asked him, ”Are you thinking what I am
thinking?” “I dono, maybe?” He shrugged.
His eyes met hers and she asked the captain, ”How did we become
riders?” Wyatt’s eyes bulged. He had
been thinking what she was thinking!
Somehow it made sense and he knew why they were drawn to each
other. He had read about identical twins
experiencing similar moments. He was
glad, though, that he did not have to wear the same clothes as Lacey. “There I go again! Making a joke of
everything.” He laughed inside but
didn’t show it. He could picture himself
laughing out loud and smirking with a sideward smile. In his mind, Lacey glared
at him, hurt. He was glad he didn’t go
there—so easy to be misunderstood.
Felicity answered this time.
“Besides being gene hosts, we all have one other thing in common. Our parents could not get pregnant in a
natural way. Therefore, we are the
products of in-vitro fertilization.” Felicity looked at them, checking for a
reaction. Lacey said, “Phew, I’m not
adopted! That would be too much all at
once!” Wyatt said, “I know, my mom told me.”
Felicity continued, “So we were genetically altered in the first stages
of our cellular lives. Wyatt felt that
sickness coming on again. His already
pale skin turned to alabaster and he felt beads of sweat forming on his
brow. Lacey, grabbed a handful of
peanuts. Cracking them, she discarded
the shells on the floor, defiantly. “How
many? She asked, crunching a nut between
her teeth. She stood up and roared, ”HOW
MANY RIDERS?” Felicity didn’t
answer. She looked away, obviously muted
by Lacey’s anger. “DON’T TELL ME YOU
DON”T KNOW! What will become of us?”
Lacey bellowed. Her eyes began to tear and she dropped to the sofa. She knocked the popcorn on the floor and
kicked the table on its side, spilling the peanuts and lemonade. She lay down on the sofa, kicking it with her
feet, pounding with her fists. “I never
asked for this!” She sobbed, convulsing,
letting her tears stain the sofa.
Wyatt took a moment to understand what she was thinking. Then it dawned on him. What would become of us, as a people? Never mind all
the racial bigotry in the world. How
would all Homo sapiens survive if their DNA were altered without their knowledge? Wyatt was quiet. He suddenly felt confused. At first he was glad to see the scum of the
earth being cleaned off the streets and he went along with being a Rider
because he had no choice in the matter.
Yeah, it made him kind of sick to his stomach to think that somehow he
was a host for an animal gene and that when that gene was released the outcome
created a different species with “certain advantages.” ”Captain, how is the gene harvested?” He suddenly felt defensive and wondered what
his grandfather would say in the matter.
Somehow, he felt as helpless as the hens in the coop.
“Interesting word choice, young man.
You’re right to use the word ‘harvest. ‘ As with farmers, all the seeds
that are sewn are not reaped or harvested as you say.” Some will die and others may fail to produce
offspring. In your case in order for the
dormant gene to become active, you must reproduce. You may get married or you may not. Either way, it is possible for you to
reproduce.” “Spare me the details,” said
Lacey from her now supine position. She
covered her eyes with her wrist, blocking the light. She hooked her other thumb through her belt
loop to keep her hand from touching the cold floor and the discarded popcorn
and peanuts, which were swimming in the pool of lemonade. He knew she had been listening, but she was
also hurting, somehow. Her ability to so
completely understand the issues at hand was surprising. Lacey was mature beyond her years. He admired her intelligence and empathized
with her emotionally. But deep down he
was thinking that there had to be a way to make this work. After all, he had enjoyed exceptional
hearing, except for when he had to endure the cringing death knell; plus, he
had been noted for his speed in sports, basketball, and football. In team sports he felt he had an unfair
advantage because of his rider status; he acted lazy so the coaches would bench
him. Mostly, he had enjoyed free running, a sport he could enjoy with friends
or on his own. His friends marveled at
how quick he was for his size. Most of his free running buddies were
older, sixteen or seventeen. They had
been free running much longer, climbing vertical walls, doing somersaults and
handless cartwheels at a dead run. They
leaped from building to building across alleyways and did back flips off of
walls. They were taller than he and lanky,
not thick like Wyatt; but they had amazing upper body strength and tremendous
endurance. Wyatt found it visually
appealing to watch them. Even more he
loved the thrill of pushing his body to do things that did not seem realistic
to most people. Free running was like
rollerblading without wheels. And he didn’t have to worry about helping his
team to win unfairly because there really was no competition. He could just be himself and enjoy the
movement, the freedom. He was just a kid after all.
Once he sprinted through an
abandoned loft and dove through a missing window and over the alley, arms
outstretched. As he crossed over the alley, the kids beneath him on the ground
had remarked that he looked like a swan.
He had landed with a shoulder roll on some roof top grass one floor
below and bounced to his feet, whooping and hollering from he thrill of
it. His friends called up to him as
peered over the edge of the building. “Hey
Wyatt, is that your gangsta name? Swan!
You like that?” He revolted at
the notion of being considered a gangsta, for he knew their hellish end. “Nah,“ he shrugged, “just call me Rider. But keep it to yourselves, awright?”
The captain resumed his remarks.
“Now,” he said professorially, “supposing you reproduce and your child
looks like me, from the Puma strain.
What happens to the kid? Well,
the government has a place for them, a school, if you will, a military school.”
“Like the one in Panama?
Captain? Look, you were born in a
lab somewhere, a giant test tube. I get
that. You have a mother, but she doesn’t
know you exist. But if you ask me,
against my will, to produce children that I may never see, I seriously have a
major issue with that.” Wyatt was
looking at Lacey for approval. She was
sitting up now, making a gag sign with her forefinger. Wyatt didn’t know whether to laugh or
cry.
Felicity chimed in. “Lacey,
Wyatt, I know how you feel. I went
through the same feelings. When I joined
the military, that’s when I found out.
They must have known all along.
No physical challenge in boot camp even scathed me. I was surprised
because I was never really athletic in school, except as a cheerleader. After boot camp, though, I was assigned to
our embassy in Panama where I met Captain Knight, here.” She looked at the captain fondly. The captain, grinned, showing his fangs. Felicity told them they had rights as
individuals but if they had children, the children had to be protected from
society and they had to be prepared for the cause. She got up and began cleaning Lacey’s
mess. Lacy was still in her funk. Wyatt didn’t bother to help. He hadn’t made the mess, nor had Felicity,
for that matter, so he began to help by picking up the popcorn and peanuts that
had not gotten soaked by the lemonade. He
thought his reluctance to join the cause might unfold in a similar
fashion. He wondered if Lacey would ever
come around. Either way, he thought, he
would support her. “There is so much evil in the world that we have to protect
ourselves against it. If we don’t stop
our enemies, the world will be lawless mayhem and freedom of thought, freedom
of speech, the freedom to choose our own livelihood will be devastated. Humanity will be destroyed and there will no
place for good to exist.
“Scientists are working on ways to prevent the
genes from giving us physical characteristics of our particular strain.” Wyatt
could only imagine what the particular strains were. He imagined this future army to be a
menagerie of mutant warriors, part wolverine, part wolf, giraffe, monkey,
elephant….”SSSnake,” he said out loud, scoffing.
Felicity looked at him knowingly.
She clicked on the TV and dimmed the lights with more clapping. The golden eyes hovered and then they were
gone. “There are some people I would like
you to meet,” she said. “Some other
members of the ‘the cause.’” On the
screen was a menu of profile choices, videos of soldiers from all branches of
the United States Military. Now Lacey’s
eyes had softened. Interested she leaned
by back into the sofa. Felicity gave her
the remote and asked her to choose a profile.
Lacey chose the soldier with the long red hair, Sorrel. His image filled the screen and he began to
speak, “Good morning, America! I am
Lance Corporal Rudy Sorrel, United States Marine Corps. My father is a rider. He gave me the Arabian equine gene. “ He paused, his smile revealing teeth the size
of dominoes. He had tiny diamonds cemented
to his teeth, six, four, eight, and three, totaling 21. “Always a winner,” Wyatt thought. Lacey said, “I’ll be he could take a bite out
of crime.” Sorrell went on, “I have
amazing strength and endurance. I am
7’4”. I weigh in at 325, solid muscle
and I will serve and die for my country!
Semper Fi,” he yelled, saluting.
His image froze. Robotically,
Felicity said, “Select.” The menu of
profile returned to the screen. LC
Sorrel one had run 100 miles in an endurance test. He only stopped to drink water. He munched on carrots and lettuce wedges
along the way, running the entire 20 hours.
In combat scenarios, he could easily kick in the heaviest of doors and
was quite adept at clearing barricades.
He attacked each mission with zeal and fervor and did not seem happy
unless he was promoting the cause, the survival of society. Lacey handed the remote to Wyatt. “G’head,” she said twisting her mouth.
Wyatt chose Sergeant Joey Queensland.
He had the kangaroo strand and could leap to the tops of buildings with
no assistance. Wyatt imagined himself
free running with that guy. He envied
him. He wasn’t as tall as the others,
only 6’2” but he had massive thighs and he could leap to the tops of
walls. Although he had short arms, he
was very powerful and was known for knocking out his opponent with short and
lightning jabs to the face and body. No
one was quicker than lightning Joey.
Lacey then picked the female soldier.
She had the sugar glide strand. Wearing
a cloak and bloused trousers and she floated from building rooftop to building
rooftop with grace and ease. She wore a
finned hard had which gave her directional control. She was immensely valuable in nocturnal urban
surveillance. Her huge onyx eyes were
capable of seeing in the dark as if it were broad daylight. Lacey was spell bound. Wyatt thought when was beginning to see her
role in all of this.
She asked Felicity, “Will we become soldiers, like you?” Felicity shrugged and told Lacey and Wyatt
that the choice was theirs, but she believed it was the best choice to serve. “Coercion.” Wyatt thought. “The cost of protection is our lives?” He
said out loud. “Is that what you mean?”
Felicity said that no rider had been killed for refusal to serve the
cause; however, they were closely watched.
The government did not want them to go to the other side and benefit
another army. In some cases, Felicity
said, Riders were “neutralized” through “accidents” which led to
surgeries. The result of the surgeries
had been their inadvertent infertility, eliminating the possibility that they
could reproduce. “This is the
government’s attempt at keeping the army contained within our borders.
Lacey wanted to know if she would be called to help now. Felicity said she would know when the time
came if she was supposed to assist the cause.
They spend the next couple of hours learning about the army and its
exploits. The strands of rider genes
were numerous, into the hundreds and riders were beginning to reproduce. Wyatt wondered if his family knew of his gene
host status. He often thought it odd that
he lived in such a nice apartment, had a maid and that he was able to attend
New York’s finest public schools. A driver
took Annie to school and anywhere she wanted to go. They had the best of everything, toys, and
electronics. They vacationed all over
the world. They never had to ask for anything.
His father, after all, was a city
planner. His mother was a nurse, like
Felicity. “Like FELICITY??!” He did a
double take. His mind screamed and
suddenly there was that need to puke again. Were his parents being paid to have their
children infused with rider genes? What about Annie? Is she a rider, too? Wyatt seethed with contempt. He coped by
drifting off into a fantasy of his own personal aircraft. Besides, he had a feeling he would be needing
an airplane given his new sphere of influence.
He would make them pay
