Salem, OR
April, 2011
Her eyes snapped open.
For a minute, she lay there, disoriented, grey walls and memories overlapping peeling paint and reality, at least, her reality for the moment.
Stop it.
She whispered silently to herself, closing her eyes and focusing, like they'd taught her.
Forget.
Every day for the last two years she'd done the same exercise. And every day, some primal part of her screamed the same response.
NO!
Sighing, shaking her head slightly to get rid of the lingering after effects of sleep, she crawled from beneath the blanket she'd stolen off a dead body in the street the night before.
Getting to her feet, she took stock of herself.
Threadbare sneakers, skinned knees peering out from underneath a pair of cut-off sweats, rolled six or seven times in order to keep them from falling down. A man's t-shirt, advertising something called 'Hollister' she'd found on a clothesline two days ago.
It smelled bad and she wished she could wash it, but she didn't have anything else to wear at the moment.
Her hand drifted up, running gingerly through the chin length hair that itched. She was fairly certain she had lice, probably brought on by the poor bathing habits she'd been forced to adopt since the Escape.
They'd talked about freedom back at Manticore. The nights she and Max had lain awake, both of them not needing sleep. The stories had changed night to night. Sometimes all they wanted was to be able to lie in the sun and not train. Sometimes it was to play in the woods and not get called back for a drill or classroom exercise.
All of the time they were together.
Only, it didn't work out that way. Jondy wasn't even sure Max had made it out.
She'd gone under the ice, stepping on a spot that Jondy had just run over.
She always wondered if maybe she'd weakened the ice enough for it to break and the river to claim her sister.
Stop it, soldier.
Zack's voice echoed in her head at the oddest times.
Clutching her arms around her middle in an effort to alleviate the constant cold, she stepped through broken glass to the doorway of the abandoned hut she'd procured for the night.
There was normal activity on the street outside. People lingering, talking. The few lucky enough to have jobs rushing off to work, some in suits and ties, others in jeans.
Manual labor was more abundant in a city that was falling apart. Maintenance, after all, was a full time job.
She needed money, but no one would hire a scrawny looking eleven year old with lice and an undeniable odor.
Sighing, she ducked back inside, carefully wrapping up her meager bundle of belongings.
She had a second blanket, procured from the same line as the shirt. She had another pair of shoes, pulled from a garbage bin that were called 'snow boots'. She was familiar with boots; she'd worn them her whole life. But boots specifically designed for snow travel?
She'd carefully packed them away in her stolen rucksack, referred to as a 'backpack'. It had someone called 'Hannah Montana' on it. She'd learned that it was something girls in her age group were expected to enjoy and utilized it to maintain her cover.
A scarf was gingerly wrapped around her neck, both as protection against the cold and as cover for her barcode, which her hair was still too short to cover.
A jacket, too big for her small frame, but in bright purple, a color she found, much to her surprise, she really liked. Maybe because she didn't have any bad memories of it.
Slipping into the jacket, she reached in her bag and pulled out her last chunk of slightly stale bread along with a somewhat mealy apple and two left over pizza slices.
She really liked pizza.
Eating her meal, she contemplated her actions for today.
She'd been staying here for several weeks now with minimal interaction with the local occupants of this area. It was unlikely by her estimate that any of them were aware of her presence.
Theoretically, she could remain stationary for a while longer, but instinct told her to move.
Pulling out her last, most valuable possession, she spread out the map of the western United States she'd procured from a gas station approximately five days after her escape.
There were holes in it, carefully poked through with a pen as Jondy visited them. She didn't want to return to any place she'd already been, tactical sense telling her it was unwise.
She was currently holed up in the outskirts of Salem, Oregon. She'd moved west from Danvers, Montana, hiding out in the back of semi-trucks to get from here to there.
North would be colder and she hated the cold, so her pen took her south.
California. She'd heard whispered stories about the bright sun and warm weather. Deciding that that was where she wanted to be, she slipped the map back into her bag, shrugged on her jacket and switched out her shoes on the basis that the snow boots were warmer than her holey tennis shoes.
Double checking the front for any signs of suspicious activity, she quickly followed the lines of the walls, making her way silently to the back door.
There were people in her neighbors yard, standing in a loose circle and talking; she'd have to wait for them to leave.
The door was open slightly, and the wind blew it open more, offering her a more complete view of the outside world.
Cold, dreary, and hungry, Jondy curled up back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, as she contemplated how much different her life would be if she'd stayed.
Max would be dead.
Max could be dead already, for all Jondy knew.
You'd have been punished.
Every day was a punishment out here. At least back at Manticore they'd had 'days off' so to speak, where training would be lighter than before.
They'd have separated you.
Her heart seized and she rubbed her chest with a faint grimace.
They were already separated, and, besides, it'd been almost a year since Manticore had done an overhaul. It was unlikely that they'd have been reassigned to different squads no matter what the guards were whispering about.
What did they know anyways, those stupid ordinaries. They'd been paid muscle, nothing more. Manticore didn't tell them anything, so they made shit up.
You'd be a prisoner.
Prisoner of War. POW. They'd done training, had simulations; they'd seen it from both sides, as the captor and the capturee. They'd been poked, prodded, torn apart from the inside out. So confused they couldn't remember anything.
It took days afterwards to undo their programming. Days of exhaustion, where even Jondy and Max had slept.
The worst part always came afterwards. Afterwards, you remembered everything.
Your screams. The Pain. The all consuming desire for it to end.
The wet sound of flesh severing, of bones breaking. The scent of blood, so sickening in its appeal you choke on your own vomit in an effort to get away.
They were predators; they'd been designed with apex predator DNA. The top of the food chain. Wolf, large cat, birds of prey, and more. Blood appealed to that side of them.
It was the human side, as undernourished and maladapted as it was, that was horrified by the carnage.
It was the human side that would scream into your head Why!
It was the worse feeling in the world, hating yourself for being yourself.
The neighbors shifted, strolling around the front for some reason or another, and Jondy didn't hesitate.
She was out the door and in the alley in seconds, a blur to anyone who'd been watching.
She slowed to a trot, careful to keep track of her surroundings without looking too alert, too out of place.
Out here, kids played. They smiled, they laughed, they had fun.
Out here, Jondy played. She played pretend. She smiled, she laughed, she faked the fun, but inside she mourned.
Where are you? She'd asked, every cell of her body screaming, begging for the company of her siblings, her family. Her pack.
I hate being alone.
Slipping down alley after alley, she made her way to the nearest truck yard.
It was a metal company, its yard full of cargo trailers, but only a few were hooked up.
The yard was surrounded by a fence, fifteen feet high at least. In another year, maybe two, she'd be able to jump it, easy, but right now, she was still too small.
If she jumped halfway up, she'd make too loud of a noise on impact, so she searched for an alternative.
Halfway around the perimeter she caught sight of a dumpster, pushed against the fence. It was too short for her to be able to stand and climb over the fence, but it she used it as a jumping point…
Carefully securing her pack, she walked until she was at least twenty feet from the dumpster. That would give her enough running room to get the momentum she would need.
Letting her breath out in a smooth line, she inhaled sharply and took off.
A blur moved forward, leaping when it neared the dumpster and, using the lid as a springboard, jumped up.
She cleared the fence, but just barely. Some of the wire on top had caught her leg, opening up a three inches gash that hurt.
Pain is a phantom of the mind.
Shut up!
She snarled at the phantom voice of her former instructor. It was her supreme source of comfort and defiance; she could curse him all she wanted now and he'd never be able to punish her for it.
The wound was deep enough that, had she been born an ordinary, she'd need stitches. As it was, back at Manticore they probably would have thrown a few in just in case.
She didn't have the luxury of medical treatment here on the outside, so she reverted back to basic field med.
There was an unoccupied office about fifteen feet from where she'd landed; breaking in proved to be as simple as opening the door.
There were papers strewn all over the place, but Jondy's interest was simple: money and supplies.
There was a blanket, soft and warm, thrown over a chair. It was clean and smelled faintly of the forest.
Jondy quickly swapped her old blanket for the new one.
There was also a closet with a few shirts and some pants.
A pair of shorts were folded neatly along the bottom. They looked like the shorts they'd were back at Manticore for Summer and Indoor Training.
She slipped them in her pack as well.
Liberating two shirts, she packed one away and ripped the other into pieces for bandages.
There was a small sink and a bathroom in the back of the trailer, so she quickly cleaned her wound and, after a seconds hesitation, bathed her hair and her body as well.
The water was cold, but she didn't really care about a luxury such as warmth; she just wanted to be clean.
After splashing on some antiseptic and throwing the rest of the bottle into her pack, she checked the rest of the area out for other supplies.
There was toothpaste, a wash clothe and hand towel, and some toilet paper, all of which she took.
The best thing that she found, though, was a full lunch pail and a box of something called twinkies.
Pushing the box in her bag and clutching the lunch pail close, she exited the trailer and made her way to the nearest loaded truck.
Slipping up the off-side where no one could see her, she scanned the paperwork lying on a clipboard in the passenger seat.
The shipping manifest cited Phoenix as a final destination, meaning this particular truck would be heading south, exactly the direction she wanted to be heading in.
Just to see if any of the other trucks were heading in a similar, better direction, she repeated the procedure.
Toledo, Denver, New York City, and Little Rock.
The first truck was her best bet.
Final inspection had occurred and all the truck was waiting for was the driver, so Jondy quickly located the keys for the back lock.
Unlocking the door, she used all of her considerable strength to push the door up before returning the keys to the cab.
Double checking to make sure her surroundings were clear, she slid inside the back, pulling the door down, leaving a small gap for air, before crawling behind a stack of boxes and waiting.
Half an hour later, footsteps approached, followed by a gruff voice swearing.
"Goddamnit, Portman! You were supposed to fucking lock the door!"
"Sorry, man. I thought I did."
"Yeah, well, you didn't. Now it's gonna take another hour to double check everything before I can leave."
"Aw, come on, Tony. If you're an hour late on delivery, our pay gets docked fifteen percent. Just lock the door and let it be."
"It's against procedure," Tony stated, but Jondy could hear the wavering indecision in his voice.
"No one has to know," Portman replied, his voice a seductive cadence for just letting the thing be.
"Fine," was Tony's gruff agreement and the door slammed shut. Jondy's sensitive ears picked up the distinctive sound of the lock clicking and her heartbeat accelerated as the truck rolled out of the lot.
This time tomorrow, she'd be somewhere warmer, and that much further from Manticore's grip.
Pulling out her new blanket and holding the food pail close, she closed her eyes and let the steady rumble of the engine lull her into a relaxed state.
"We may have something, Sir." Colonel Lydecker, informally called Lydecker by his superiors and universally known as the Colonel in the program, glanced up from the pile of paperwork he'd spent the last hour reviewing to find one of his operatives, Jason Kegan, standing in the door way.
His hair was a mess, his tie was loose, shirt cuffs rolled three quarters of the way up his elbows. His disorderly appearance put the Colonel's teeth on edge, but his expression…
"Where?"
"Salem, Oregon," came the rushed reply. "One of our operatives spotted a young, possible X5 trying to use a dumpster as a springboard to make it over a fifteen foot security fence."
"What was the fence for?"
"A trucking business, Sir."
"Contact the business, let them know they might have a juvenile escaped from a mental hospital on board."
"Already done, Sir."
"I want the helicopter ready in ten to take us there."
"Sir?"
"I'm making you primary on this one, Kegan."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." The boys face flushed with pleasure and he was halfway out the door before The Colonel called him back.
"Kegan?"
"Sir?"
"Clean yourself up. Your appearance is fucking disgraceful."
The kids face fell so fast, the Colonel was surprised his nose didn't break from impact.
"Yes, Sir."
The Colonel studied the bloody trail to the on-site construction trailer, his expression unreadable as always.
"Sir, preliminary tests confirm; it was an X5."
"Male or female?"
"Female, Sir."
"Did our operative get a good look at her?"
"Uh," Kegan consulted his note pad. "about five two, skinny. Short, blond hair about chin length. She was wearing a scarf, so he couldn't get a look at her barcode."
Blonde hair. That limited it to two possible females right off the bat. 656, 452, 734, and 101 all had darker features and darker hair. Only 701 and 210 had the ethnic codes that could facilitate blond.
"How many trucks have left since he spotted her?"
"Two. One heading for Denver, the other for Phoenix."
"Have they both been informed of the situation?"
"Uh, Denver yes, but the Phoenix truck has a broken radio."
"Cell phone?"
"Not on record for the driver."
"What's his name?"
"Tony Everhardt. 6'3", 265 lbs. Uh, former Marine, Force Recon. Saw action in Desert Storm, Somalia, Afghanistan, and Kuwait." Kegan whistled. "Has an impressive mission history, half of which are blacked out."
"Unblack them," came the Colonel's harsh order.
"Yes, Sir." Kegan moved away, but a raised finger from Lydecker stopped him.
"Call ahead and have a TAC team meet me in Phoenix. I'll be there to meet them in three hours."
The Colonel straightened and looked Kegan dead in the eye.
"Alert all teams in the field to be on the lookout for this truck. Give a description of the truck, the driver, and the girl. I want her found, and I want her found now."
"Y-yes, Sir." Kegan stuttered, completely terrified by the fanatic gleam in the Colonel's eyes as he spoke.
He hadn't been hired until after the Pulse and the escape happened, and he'd been so happy to have a job that he'd ignored the various rumors about his new CO.
The Colonel had been in charge of the program since the inception of the X-series, way back in 1997. He'd started training these kids, these 'child soldiers' at the tender age of two.
Drills, training, formation, strategy, tactics, even hand-to-hand only months after they learned to walk. They were expected to pick up on these things quick and anyone who disappointed was quickly disassembled to determine the cause.
When they escaped, the Colonel had thrown a fit. He'd thrown all of the remaining X5's from their group into Psy-Ops for eval, but he hadn't stopped there.
He'd yanked twins, clones, X5 siblings, and X5's with barely passable behavior from not only Gillette, but all of the facilities across the US.
Kegan had seen one of these kids up in Seattle, when he'd first started working there in August of '09.
The kid had looked like a walking, talking skeleton. If his eyes hadn't been hazel, Kegan would have automatically assumed the child was albino.
His eyes, as color filled as they were, were dead. His stare hadn't wavered from the wall behind the Director's head the same as Kegan's never wavered from him as he stuttered out his report to Renfro.
His designation had been 494, the twin of the one of the escapees.
Kegan wondered if he was still alive.
A crash brought him back to the here and now and he quickly dialed his cell phone and got to work.
Jondy came to awareness instantly as silence descended.
The truck engine coupled with the radio and Tony's singing had been her lullaby for the last five hours, giving her some much needed down time.
It also, unfortunately, gave her bladder time to fill.
She could find a corner and use it as her toilet, but she was reluctant to soil her current safe haven since she had no idea how long she'd be in here.
She was formulating an extraction method when the tell tale sound of a lock clicking had her tensing.
Peeking out from her nest, she blinked as the door went sliding upwards and she got her first real glimpse of Tony.
He was taller, much taller than the Colonel. He had a beard, full, bushy, and reddish-brown.
He wore a pair of oil stained blue jeans, a shirt for something called 'Metallica' with a flannel shirt over that and a sweater with the sleeves ripped off over that.
He was muttering under his breath, holding a clipboard and pushing his ball cap up.
He was facing her, looking down at the clipboard, and Jondy knew she wouldn't be able to sneak past him until, at the very least, he turned his head, if at all.
He looked up suddenly and Jondy jerked her head back, heart pounding in her ears as she waited for a sign that he'd spotted her.
There was a period of silence, brief, before Tony started muttering again, Jondy's sensitive ears perking at the sound of his footsteps moving away.
Peering cautiously out from around the boxes, she did a visual scan to confirm what her ears had told her; he'd left.
Deciding that now was the best time to get out before someone came around, she slipped silently out from her nest and made her way to the bay door.
Peering cautiously out, she determined that no one was watching and quickly jumped the four feet to the ground.
Turning her head left, she examined her surroundings carefully before turning right.
And running smack dab into Tony.
He moved like a snake; scary fast. He had her arm in a grip in seconds.
Terrified, she reacted.
Twisting her arm to get out of his grip, she attempted a leg sweep, only to have it summarily blocked.
The punch she aimed for his stomach never reached its final destination either.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, filly. I'm not going to hurt you."
A life long distrust of adults had her staring up at him suspiciously, but a learned respect of authority figures had her stopping her attack as she waited for him to make the next move.
"Scrawny little thing, ain't you?" His gaze drifted down her petite frown and his mouth twisted in – disapproval?
She sneered up at him, causing him to laugh.
"But spunky. I like that. Come on," he turned and started walking, tugging her arm lightly to get her to keep pace.
"What are you doing?" Jondy asked when, after a few moments of walking, he had yet to offer an explanation for his actions.
"Feeding you," came the reply. "Then, we'll talk."
It was called pie and Jondy was in love.
It had fruit, real fruit, a crispy crust, the sweet taste of blueberries mixing with the whipped cream squirted on top that tasted so good, Jondy just barely kept from making a noise of pleasure.
"I think she likes it," came the guffaw from the man Tony had introduced as Smitty. Smitty's companion, a petite woman with big hair and big boobs, smacked him on the arm before smiling down at Jondy.
"Would you like another piece, honey?"
"Yes, please." After being hungry for so long, Jondy wasn't about to turn down food.
"One condition," Tony stated, causing her to look up, her last bite of pie balanced on her fork as she stared up at him. "Eat it slow. You're gonna make yourself sick, kid."
So far they'd called her honey, sweetheart, kid, princess, and Tony's new nickname, Filly.
She had yet to tell them her real name, but as time ticked by and none of them displayed anything but kindness, she wanted to.
"Here you go, sweetheart." Jondy accepted the new piece of pie from Jolene with a faint smile.
"Thank you, Ma'am." Jolene smiled back.
"So polite. Not something you see much these days." Smitty grunted his agreement around his ever present toothpick before turning his attention back to his paper. Jolene gave the pretty, but dirty, little angel one last smile before returning to the counter.
"Feeling better?" Jondy nodded briefly, putting down her fork as she eyed Tony.
"Why are you being nice to me?" She knew how to deceive, how to trick and torture information out of people, but the direct approach never hurt either. Besides, he'd been so nice, she didn't want to have to hurt him.
"You look like you could use a friend," Tony replied. And she did. At first glance, her head darting back around the pile of crates she'd been hiding behind, he'd gotten the distinct impression that this was a girl not used to the kindness of strangers.
The cuts and bruises going up and down her skinny arms and legs, plus the oversized, ill fitting clothing and the way it hung off her lanky frame indicated neglect.
What kind of monster would do something like this to a child?
Children were precious things; they deserved love, laughter, happiness, safety, and security, not fear, anger, pain, and betrayal.
He'd find out who did this to her and then he'd find them and make them regret it.
"Nice bruises," Tony nodded towards her arms.
Jondy pulled her shirt sleeves down in an effort to hide them before realizing what he'd made her do and frowning.
"Nice beard," she shot back, hunching defensively over her pie. Tony smiled at the rejoinder.
"Where'd you get them?"
"Here and there," she shot back, taking a sip of milk. She'd had a few seizures since the escape and milk and tryptophan seemed to help. Since tryptophan wasn't the easiest thing to come by, Jondy had settled for stealing it when she could find it and drinking milk the rest of the time.
"Here and there have a name?"
He thought she'd been abused Jondy realized with no small amount of amusement.
If only he knew.
"Nunya," she shot back.
"As in none of your business?" Tony smirked as she scowled at him. She had spirit, that much was for sure.
"Where are you from originally?"
"Salem," Jondy shot back, not bothered in the least by the lie.
"Bullshit," Tony spoke easily, calmly. Jondy flinched under the accusation and turned her gaze to her pie.
"I can help you, honey," he bent forward and, if he hadn't been looking, he wouldn't have caught the way she jerked at that.
"What? What is it?"
"You can't help me," Jondy spoke low, her voice dropping several octaves as she tilted her head up slightly, her eyes dark with remembered pain.
"You don't know that."
Jondy laughed, a sudden bark, so unamused that all eyes turned to face them, expressions ranging from curious to annoyed. Jondy ducked back to her pie and Tony kept his gaze on her.
"They'll kill you," Jondy replied, her first genuinely honest sentence since he found her.
"They?" Jondy's grip on her fork tightened as she debated what to tell him.
"The people I'm running from," she replied, choosing her words carefully. "They'll kill to get me back."
Tony's first instinct was to scream foul and fall back on the age old saying that the kid's just trying to get attention, but she looked pained, so serious for an eleven year old, he decided to go with it.
"Back where?"
"I can't tell you. I won't tell you." Jondy glanced forlornly down at her pie before setting her fork aside and leaning in to talk more privately.
"The night I got away, they shot one of my," she hesitated, "friends in front of me. They shot at me and everybody else, too."
Tony didn't want to believe her anymore now than he had six sentences ago, but she was so haunted, so sad. Either she was one hell of an actress, or she was telling the truth.
"And you think they'll kill me, too."
"I know they will."
"Filly, I'm a former Marine, Force Recon. That makes me damn hard to kill."
"I could kill you," Jondy replied, a simple statement of fact that, nevertheless, sent chills down his spine.
"You could try," he corrected, over twenty years of training and experience backing his confidence.
Jondy did a quick survey before meeting his eyes.
"No." Chilling blue eyes met brown.
"Why is that?" Tony asked. Jondy's gaze darted sideways.
"Because it's what they trained us to do. That what we were made to do."
It took him a few seconds to process what she just said, but the second it cleared, every cell in him was screaming Bullshit!
"Aw, hell, honey, I don't know what they told you, but nobody made you to do anything. You may have felt like you had no choice, but you do."
Jondy looked over at the poor, ignorant ordinary, and felt an overwhelming wave of disillusionment hit.
Here in front of her was an ordinary human. He'd been ordinary since birth, born to two parents, loving or otherwise. His inception had been, given his age, natural more than likely. Egg meets sperm, the usual.
The sperm used to make her had been almost entirely artificial. It had come from somebody, but by the time they were finished with it, it had so many different DNA strands woven in, it was highly unlikely she resembled the original donor at all.
She had a mother; a single female who'd gone missing for a period of time. She'd have been either paid to keep quiet, killed, or shipped off somewhere where nobody would believe whatever crazy story she said.
The same crazy story, with some variations, Jondy was trying to impart to the man in front of her.
"No. They made me." Jondy met his eyes as she emphasized that fact.
She wasn't kidding. She wasn't just repeating something she heard; she was telling him something she knew to be fact.
"In vitro?" He hazarded, his best guess to what she was talking about.
"In part," she replied, fiddling with the straw in her milk. She was quiet for a few minutes, making a decision.
She didn't want him to die.
If they found him, with what little she told him, he could do just that. She needed to make him understand how dangerous they were.
"They created me from recombinant DNA," she started, watching his eyes as she spoke.
He was blown away at first by the fact that this little girl was using words like recombinant DNA, then by the actual meaning of what she just said.
"Created?" He repeated, just for clarification. She slowly nodded.
"Created. In the late 1980's a private corporation started running government funded experiments in genetic engineering. They wanted to create a new, twenty-first century bio weapon system that could be deployed during war for a decisive victory."
Bio weapon system, a living weapon. Her. Tony blinked, the only outward sign of his surprise.
Satisfied that he was following her story, she continued.
"We were designed using recombinant DNA harvested from a variety of sources. They wanted brains and brawn," she smirked at that. "They cloned DNA samples from people like Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Einstein, and Oppenheimer."
Tony arched an eyebrow, impressed by the grocery list of DNA sources.
"And then they looked other places for the brawn. We needed to be fast, agile, able to hear, see, and smell the enemy before anybody else. And the best way to do that was to look outside of human donors."
Jondy's gaze dropped to the table, to where her hands were clenched into fists.
"Everybody has feline DNA for agility and speed, Canine DNA for smell and hearing, and a bird of prey for sight. I'm not even human."
The last part was a whispered regret that struck a cord in Tony.
He'd seen men get that look in their eyes, after the battle was done and all that was left was the carnage.
Carnage they help put there.
You killed people in war. It was that simple. Sometimes, though, you killed a part of yourself as well.
Tony had been there more than a few times. He'd gotten to the point where he'd wake up in the morning and ask himself what am I?
Man or Monster?
The little girl in front of him was no monster.
"Listen to me, girl," his stern voice had her jerking upright, her spine ramrod straight, years of training and conditioning triggering that response to the authority in his voice.
"You're just as human as anybody," he murmured, careful to keep his voice down given the sensitivity of the subject. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that again."
"Why not?" Jondy was somewhat mystified by his violent response. "I am part animal."
"And you're also part human. That alone gives you the same rights as the rest of us. I look at you and I see a little girl who's gonna blossom into a fine young woman some day."
Jondy blushed at that, ducking her head again. She knew she was going to be pretty; they'd been designed that way after all.
"You've got hopes, you've got dreams and that's what ultimately matters. Your DNA don't mean jackshit in the grand scheme of things. This," he placed his head over his chest, where his heart was, thumping his fist against it again to emphasis his point. "This is what really matters."
"All you need is love?" Tony roared with laughter and Jondy cracked a small smile. She'd heard that one night soon after the escape. She'd been hiding in a back alley in Cheyenne and some guy in dreads smelling like marijuana had attracted a crowd, preaching the 'word'.
"Heart, smart ass. All you need is heart. You've got that and you're set. The greatest things come from within."
He was smiling at her, wide and so happy, that she couldn't help but smile back.
"Jondy," she started, ducking her head again, suddenly shy as she peered up at him from underneath her fringe.
"That's the name the others gave me." She explained.
"Well, Jondy, it's nice to meet you. My name's Tony Everhardt."
"Nice to meet you, Tony," she primly shook his hand, proud of herself for knowing that much at least.
"Now, Jondy, what do you say we hit the road and you can explain some more about this secret government project."
"Manticore," Jondy stated as they got to their feet and Tony dropped a few bills on their table to pay for the meal and as a tip for the waitress. Jondy smiled at Jolene and Smitty as they exited.
"It's called Project Manticore."
"Anything?"
"A truck fitting the description passed through Redding six hours ago."
"Any sign of the girl?"
"Negative, Sir." The Colonel gripped his radio tighter, jaw clenched in frustration.
Two years and this was the first substantial lead he had. Two years of looking for these goddamn kids and like hell was he going to come away from this with a failure under his belt.
He wanted his kids back where they belonged; home and under control back at Manticore. They didn't know how close they'd come to destroying not only his dream but…
"Sir! We may have something!"
The Colonel accepted the proffered radio from one of his lieutenants and placed it next to his ear.
{…the hell was that? Did you see that? She just fucking jumped it! A twelve foot fence!}
{I say again, Car 224. What is the situation, over?}
{Uh, this is Peters. Uh, damn! We've got a female juvenile, approximately five two, Hispanic, with, uh, dark hair, black, I think. Jesus! She just took down McGee! The Fuck! Jansen! You fucking saw that, didn't you!}
{Peters! What the fuck is going on?} A voice roared down the line.
{We've got a situation, sir. This girl, my partner caught her stealing from the local hospital pharmacy. When we tried to arrest her she went all kung fu on our asses. We've been chasing her through back alley's ever since.}
{What's your location?}
Peters rattled off an address in downtown Phoenix and the Colonel swore.
Dark hair, able to leap a twelve foot fence, and Hispanic. 452 or 101.
The Colonel was torn. Catching either 210 and 701 would be a coup, for sure, but catching 452…
He didn't like to play favorites, but he had a soft spot for the doe eyed female, at least, as close to a soft spot a man such as him could have.
She'd been cloned from his wife, given enough of her likeness that she could have passed as her daughter if they'd been able to stand side to side.
And she wasn't just special to him.
"Split the teams," the Colonel ordered. "I want half of you with me, the other half stay here with Gibbs. Find the girl."
The implied or else didn't need clarification. Gibbs had seen the Colonel shoot people for less.
"California." Tony sat on the back edge of his truck and stared at the sunny expanse of green in front of him.
"California," Jondy agreed, eagerly licking up the ice cream cone he'd bought both of them after arriving at this park.
"I don't feel comfortable just leaving you here."
"You're not leaving me anywhere," Jondy replied. "I'm staying."
"You're eleven years old."
"I'm a genetically enhanced killing machine who could kill a grown man with my thumb and pinky."
"Yeah, but you're eleven. Child services aren't going to ask for your specifications when they find you."
"So I won't let them find me."
"And you'll, what? Live on the streets? I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Filly, but you're not doing so hot. You kind of smell."
"Gee, I wonder how I can not take that the wrong way." Jondy's dry tone had him laughing, a full blown belly laugh. People turned and looked at them, smiling at the small girl enjoying an ice cream with her father.
"Seriously. You need a safe, clean place to lay low."
"I can't be in the system," Jondy stated, rubbing her hand across her barcoded neck for emphasis.
"You don't have to be," Tony finished his ice cream and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number from memory.
"Jake? Hey, man, it's Tony. I need a favor."
Jondy stared at the paperwork in front of her before looking up at Tony.
"This had to cost money."
"You're worth it."
She wanted to cry, really, she did. Instead she did the next best thing.
She hugged him, almost as tight as she could.
"Thank you," she breathed, sniffing as tears made their way into her eyes despite her resolve."
"No worries, kid," came his gruff reply as he squeezed her just as tight.
They'd only had a couple of hours, but it might as well have been a lifetime for the both of them.
"Be careful," Jondy warned, taking a step back. "If they find you…"
"I can play dumb with the best of them," Tony replied, ruffling her hair affectionately.
"You be careful kid," he echoed her own warning before exiting, leaving her alone in her new home.
She had a home, a real home.
And a family.
According to her paperwork, she was the younger sister of one Tawsha Varden. Tawsha was a tall, blonde haired, brown eyed female with a quirky smile and a great sense of humor.
Jake had set this up, with Tony acting as the payroll. Birth certificate, social security number, sector pass and even a library card.
She stared at the papers for hours, her thoughts reverberating through her head.
She was real.
She was a real person now.
All her doubts, all her fears, disappeared as her spirit soared. She'd fight now.
She'd fight to live this brand new life.
There were cops and men in full out TAC gear waiting for him in Phoenix.
"Tony Everhardt?"
"That's my name."
Hopping down from the cab, he scanned the circus around him before centering his attention on the man who had spoken.
"There a reason for this?"
"We believe you may be harboring a fugitive escaped from a juvenile institute for the criminally insane in Salem."
"In Salem?" Tony stared at him. "And you wait until now to tell me I might have a crazy kid hitching a ride?"
"We tried to contact you, Sir. Your radio's broken and your cell number is unavailable."
"My route was on file. You could have stopped me anywhere else down the line."
"No, Sir, it wasn't. Do you mind opening your trailer?"
Tony shrugged his shoulder, tossing him the keys.
"You open it."
That earned him a dirty look, but he didn't care. Adopting a mulish expression, he crossed his arms and waited.
Gibbs double checked to make sure his team was at the ready with their tasers before unlocking the door.
X5 females were vicious bitches, especially when you backed them into a corner, and whichever one this was, she was most definitely pinned.
He threw up the back trailer and took a step back, bringing his gun up at the same time, just waiting for that tell tale blur.
Instead, he got nothing.
"Johnson, Graves." The two men moved silently through the trailer until they reached the back.
"We've got something, Sir!"
"The girl?" Gibbs was trotting after them in seconds.
"No, Sir. But she was definitely here."
A blanket, an empty backpack, and bloody scraps.
Gibbs gritted his teeth as he stared around the cargo filled trailer, looking for the one thing that wasn't there: a genetic weapon escaped from their facility.
"Where is she?" Tony blinked as the man, Gibbs, got right up into his face.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, mister, but if you don't get out of my face I will lay the smackdown on your ass so fast you'll be talking to your dead grandma before you know it."
"Is that a threat?" Gibbs had been in Special Forces; he was just as bad the next man, but Tony Everhardt…some of the things Gibbs had read in his file made Gibbs himself look like choir boy in comparison.
"That's a fucking promise, boy." His voice low, the threat was obvious, and judging from the look in his eyes, Everhardt was just itching to put him down, and put him down hard.
Though it killed his pride, Gibbs took that step back and repeated his question.
"Where is she?"
"Where is who?" Tony asked, staring down at him with an intense look of someone gathering information.
"The girl. She was in the back of your trailer for over twelve hours and you're telling me you never heard her?"
"Kid, have you ever driven one of these bad boys?" Tony patted his hand on the side of the truck. "Things damn near as loud as a C-130 dropping bodies over Afghanistan. There could have been a ritual slaughter going on back here and I wouldn't have heard a damn thing."
"You're trained. You're telling me you didn't notice anything? Didn't feel anything?" Gibbs stared intensely at the man. With his training, this guy could have recognized a threat from several miles away. He would have had to have known something was up, especially if he was transporting something as dangerous as the weapons system that was known as X5 Two One Zero.
"Boy, this is Post-Pulse America. Everything feels wrong, especially if you're a trucking man. Like I said, a ritual sacrifice could have been going on without my knowing. Sides, why the hell would I be afraid of a girl?"
Gibbs stared at him for several long moments, evaluating his reactions before breaking the silence.
"We're going to need to check out the rest of your truck," Gibbs motioned for two of his men to do just that.
"Knock yourselves out. It's a company vehicle."
It took them two hours to go through everything with a fine tooth comb and in the end they got exactly what Tony expected them to get: nothing.
"You mind if I grab some grub? It's been a couple of hours since I last ate."
"And where was that?"
"Rosalie's Diner, just outside of Pasadena."
Gibbs relayed that information to one of the strike teams. They'd check the area out and report their findings back over the next couple days.
"You can go," Gibbs allowed. "But we'll be in touch."
"Looking forward to it," Tony shot back with absolutely no sincerity.
Gibbs waited until he was out of sight to motion Wilkerson over.
"I want a team on him, the works. He knows something and I want to know what."
"Yes, Sir," Wilkerson didn't question his orders and didn't hesitate in his execution of them. Less than an hour later, Tony Everhardt had more camera's trained on him than Big Brother could ever dream of.