Findings Findings by Kristen Sharpe

Probably the only piece of non-fanfiction you'll see from me, I wrote this for my Creative Writing class last year. It's a short story based on a much larger idea I've been toying with. To those who are familiar with my future SWAT Kat stories and my role-playing character Max, yes, this is where I mean to take Max and the ideas around him into a plotline of my own - independent of the SWAT Kats.

All characters contained herein are mine.

Prologue

“Professor?!”
Professor William Rutherford turned at the eager, desperate voice to find his most dedicated, and most energetic, student pelting after him. The boy’s hair, black as pitch, hung about his face in damp locks. His heavy running shoes thundered down the tiled corridor. Out of breath, he skidded to a stop by his professor.
“Thought I’d missed you,” the well-built student panted.
“You almost did,” Rutherford chuckled, eyeing the boy.
A freshmen, and only seventeen at that, Alex Matthews had none of that lingering childish look so many his age still carried. His was the angular face of a man, the facial hair he’d clearly removed that morning returning in a deepening five o’clock shadow. He stood some inches over six feet, his body lean, yet well-muscled as though he worked out. Notwithstanding his looks, Rutherford knew full well the youth spent nearly waking moment buried in his studies. As he likely had been before this visit. The boy’s excited, bright blue eyes danced with the thrill of some discovery.
“So, what have you found?” Rutherford queried, arching a bushy brow. “More on that private theory of yours?”
“Yes.” Alex reached around to fumble in his backpack. Fingers trembling, he gently tugged a tattered manila envelope free and handed it to the professor.
Rutherford accepted the envelope with a curious look. Shaggy gray brows drawn together, he slid the aging sheet of plastic from the envelope. Then, the middle-aged professor gasped softly as the image came to light.
“Let’s take this back to my office,” he murmured, glancing up at Alex briefly before returning his astounded gaze to the ultrasound.
Alex’s head bobbed eagerly.
Together, they hurried down the empty hallway in silence. Rutherford’s shoes clacking on the hard tile were the only sound. Then, they were at his office. Rutherford dug into his pocket, producing his keys and sliding the correct one into the lock smoothly. He shooed Alex in before him and followed, dumping his briefcase and a bag of term papers by his desk before turning to face the student again.
“This is impossible! And, if not impossible, a fluke.” He held the ultrasound up again. “Get the lights, would you?”
Alex complied and Rutherford found himself again staring at the bewitching image. It was a human fetus to be sure. But, a fetus with a long sinuous appendage extending from its spine and curled around its fetal form. And, its feet! Wide, splayed... and webbed?!
Rutherford turned to Alex, his hands shaking.
“How can this be?”
“It’s what I was telling you!” Alex was practically dancing from one foot to the other. “A sub-species of mankind. Just like my theory.”
“But, if there were a sub-species as you’ve proposed....” Rutherford’s voice was strained with disbelief and shock.
Alex nodded. “It’s been covered up. A sub-species of mankind developed here - in this country - and our government covered it up.”
Rutherford wagged a finger at him. “Remember, you’re an anthropologist - not a writer for a cheesy television series.”
“I know, I know,” Alex assured him. “But, the records are... scattered. Someone covered it up. Being fair, I’ll say that perhaps some of the parents did. Maybe some even killed these children. But, the big question is - where did they come from?”
“I take it natural selection and the usual theories of adaption are out?” Rutherford asked, doubting it himself. Why would a human need a tail? There was no point in such an adaptation.
“A mutation,” Alex inserted quickly. “A chemical mutation.”
Rutherford formed his reply slowly as he leaned against the wall, thinking carefully. “You’re getting beyond my field there. But, if I remember my biology correctly, mutations are usually genetic flukes. And, yes, this looks like a genetic fluke. That one I’ll grant you. But, a chemical mutating agent? Mutations can be caused by radiation, I understand.... possibly a few other factors I’m forgetting. Birth defects can be caused by medicines or other chemicals a pregnant mother ingests. But,... no chemical compound creates a deliberate, predictable mutation. Mutations, by nature, are not predictable.” His bushy brows were raised high on his lined forehead, his gaze stern. He was daring the youth to counter his statement.
Alex refrained from a direct counter.
“That’s true, but...”
Rutherford cut him off. “You’re implying that a chemical agent was created to produce an entire generation of humans with these exact, altered features?” His brushy brows drew together. “That’s absurd! The realities of anyone even wanting it aside, no chemical compound would cause the same genetic alterations in every subject.”
“Alright,” Alex relented before striking anew. “What about the more difficult method? What about genetic engineering?” Before Rutherford could reply, he’d produced another envelope from his backpack, this time pulling a map from within. “This is the town I traced that ultrasound to.” Alex’s finger stabbed down on the sheet of paper as he spread it out on Rutherford’s desk. “Morganton, Arizona. Named after Roger Morgan, who “founded” the town in 2001 when he established his pharmaceutical firm there.”
Rutherford was leaning over the desk interestedly now.
“2001.... Two years after the Red Death,” he murmured, finding no amusement in the choice of borrowing Edgar Allan Poe’s term to name humanity’s greatest disaster.
Alex nodded in acknowledgment. “Over half the world’s population was dead. Containment failed. Finding vaccines or other cures and treatments for ebola and the other hemorrhagic fevers wasn’t just big business; it meant surviving.”
“Fascinating history, but it doesn’t explain...,” Rutherford started.
“It does. Wait for it,” Alex assured. “Thirty years after the town and the company were established, the viruses were either under control or destroyed and medicinal research was a much more limited field. The company fell under new ownership who changed its purpose from medicine to genetic engineering. It was renamed Penchant Products... and they vowed to be able to give you anything you could imagine with just a few slices of a microscopic knife.”
Rutherford’s face twisted in disgust. “I’d heard of that. Before the regulations. Anything was legal. Pink elephants, dogs with wings...” He frowned. “Anything but tampering with human genes unless it saved unborn babies from genetic defects.” He shook the ultrasound in Alex’s face. “This is not correcting a defect.”
“No. I don’t think that was deliberate either. I think Penchant created chemical mutating agents to make their genetic work simpler.” He paused as Rutherford gave him a look of disbelief. “I don’t mean Saturday cartoons!” he asserted. “I don’t mean they shoved a few cc’s of this stuff into an animal and - bang! - wings popped out of its back. I mean, it made the process easier. It broke down chemical...”
Rutherford raised a hand to halt him. “Save the biology lesson for later and let me try to reason out what you’re saying.”
Alex waited.
The professor began slowly. “This company, in simplifying their legal Frankenstein games, accidentally infected an entire town with their waste products, creating a sub-species of human being with features that were repeated in every individual? And, then this sub-species, died out, was re-absorbed into the mainstream, what?”
“I think...,” Alex murmured softly. “I think they were hunted to extinction. That or the government finally found out and decided to destroy all the evidence of what they’d let happen. They were too busy reassembling a country torn apart by civil war, starvation, and everything else that erupted after the Red Death. Once they realized... there was still enough chaos no one would have noticed if a few hundred people disappeared....”
“Well....,” Rutherford let out a deep sigh. “While I still think this is all a rather wild hypothesis, you’ve picked a perfect period to stage it.”
Alex smiled grimly. “Exactly. With half the country in turmoil, who was to notice one more conflict?”

The fighter limped across the sky overhead, thick smoke trailing in its wake. That it was mortally wounded was clear at a glance. Its nose was dipped at a gentle angle, gentle from the distant ground. There in the sky it would be evident that it was plunging from the heavens, succumbing to the force of gravity it had defied.
And, Andy watched it, eyes locked on the falling craft, a dark spot against the cloud-choked vault of the sky. They only had one serviceable fighter.... and only one pilot dared fly that heap.
“Punch out,” Andy whispered. “Punch out, punch out, punch out, punch out....” It became a mantra her lips insisted on repeating. As though her force of will could reach across the distant, touch the pilot, and demand he heed her plea and eject. But, such was only a game her mind played with itself to occupy the unbearable instant as the fighter craft hurtled down, down, down.
“Lieutenant!”
Andy’s eyes were locked on the sky, heedless of the voice screaming her name. Her lips moving soundlessly, chanting. “Punch out, punch out, punch out...”
“Lieutenant Morrison!”
At last, her attention was caught. Snapping from her horrified stupor, the dark-haired woman spun to face her commanding officer.
“Yes, sir?” Her crisp voice rang in the suddenly still air.
Major Wilkes studied the youthful face before him. His gray eyes darted to see the fighter she’d watched so intently plunging below the treeline.
“I need you and Rast to make a patrol,” the graying major informed her, his eyes returning to her face. “Be thorough. We think some of the National Guard are getting close. I want to know if they are.” His gray eyes demanded more than a verbal affirmation, burrowing into her own.
Andy saluted, though it was only a vague necessity in this “army.” “Yes, sir!”
She turned to find Rast, her eyes pointedly ignoring the far horizon. For now, duty called. And, duty was no easy taskmaster.

Two hours later, Andy found herself lunging behind a wide-trunked oak as a crimson beam meant for her head, seared the thick wood. Pressing her body tight against the tree’s dubious shield, the dark-haired woman voice-activated her comlink.
“This is Morrison!” she screamed into the headset attached to her helmet. “We found a National Guard patrol in the north sector! Taking heavy fire! Over!”
Heavy fire? Ten to two and the opposition was wielding blaster rifles to her and Rast’s blasters. Well, “We’re outnumbered and need heeeeelp!” hadn’t seemed professional at the time. A thundering, amplified voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Throw down your weapons and surrender!”
“All the better to shoot us,” Rast hissed to Andy.
She nodded agreement. They, along with every human being for several thousand square miles, were assumed infected - to be shot on sight. Every human being in several thousand miles was potentially affected by the ugly backwash of genetic experimentation that ran rampant eighty years ago. Every human being in several thousand miles was suspected a scientifically altered freak. Every human being in several thousand miles was possibly a lusus.
The roar of an incoming hovercraft signalled the arrival of their backup.
“Let’s go!” Andy screamed, diving into the brush with Rast on her heels.
The government troops made no move to follow, instead scattering beneath the assault craft’s barrage of heavy laser cannon fire.
Lucky. We were lucky. The words rang in Andy’s head. The image of the crippled fighter haunted her mind’s eye. She had to know.

Three hours later, weary and weak, informed of the worst, Andy still had to know for herself. Her patrol was made. Duty was served. Now, was the time for her. On silent feet Andy slipped from the scattered tents and vehicles they called camp and loped through the sodden woodland.
“It went down in the lake. No chutes,” Wilkes had said.
Half of her believed him, the other half might never believe it. The half that would never, could never believe it made her run on. Run to where her body was taxed beyond its limits. Run, run, run. Her breath came in great gulps of air as she sucked in the much-needed oxygen. Run on, run on. A dull ache formed at her side. She wasn’t breathing through her nose as she’d been taught. Run on, run on. She didn’t care. Run on, run on. Run until it hurt. Run until she could run no more. Run until the pain was greater than emotion. Run until....
One foot smacked into the clouded surface of the lake. Snapping back to reality as cold water began to seep over the top of her heavy boot, Andy stared vacantly across the smooth gray surface. The water stretched into infinity, vanishing in fog-shrouded obscurity. Andy’s eyes darted to the sky, to the clarity above the ground-hugging fog. There was no smoke, no sign of fire, no sign of life.
“Josh!”
Andy’s scream echoed, the sound quickly swallowed by the gray landscape.
“Josh.”
The word was only a sob now.
Andy collapsed to her knees in the mud by the lake. The landscape was gray. Her grief was a black hole, spinning, spinning. Spiralling downward, it pulled her into its maw. And, time stopped, froze, ceased to exist. The world shrank,... and Andy was alone, alone with the empty world and the emptiness inside.
“Andy?”
The voice called to her from the top of the pit, reaching down to pull her up, up, into the light.
Andy Morrison opened her eyes slowly to find the familiar face staring worriedly into her own. Those brilliant eyes scrutinizing, dark with concern.
“Josh?”

It was as impossible he’d been alive then as it was for him to be alive thirty minutes later as Andy forced the memories down and levelled an intense gaze on her somewhat less-than-deceased friend.
Josh Mathis shifted where he sat, wet, uncomfortable. But, it was more the eyes of the young woman opposite him that created his discomfort than his sodden clothing. With effort, he fought free of those intense brown eyes and stared out over the fog-shrouded lake.
“That...,” Josh began slowly, “was a nice jet....” His gaze levelled on the mirror surface of the lake, where the remains of the wonder of aerospace alloy, titanium armor, and sophisticated electronics that had been his craft lay hid.
“Was,” Andy muttered, repeating his words as she stared at him across the fire. “Almost took a nice pilot with it.... Not so sure it didn’t....”
Josh reluctantly turned slowly to study her face, squinting to fight against the heat ripples created by the small fire between them. Her brows were drawn up, her lips askew as she agitatedly chewed the lower half. Damp brown hair straggled about her ruddy face.
“I’m fine, Andrea,” the tall man stated softly.
“It’s Andy,” she snapped. “Even ghosts of friends can’t get away with calling me Andrea!”
Josh held up his hands in defeat. “Andy then. And, I’m no ghost,” he added quietly.
Andy snorted.
“Coulda fooled me....” Her tone was bitter. “Your jet crashes and sinks in the lake, I see no signs of life for three hours, then you come crawlin’ outta the water...,” Andy continued, voice growing distant as the nightmare replayed. She snapped back to the present abruptly. “How, Josh?” the dark-haired woman demanded. “How did you survive that? You got out of your craft after it sank! Not to mention paddling for a good couple hours out there.”
“I...” Josh shrugged hopelessly. “I wouldn’t know. It all happened so fast I was just trying my hardest to survive!”
For long seconds, Andy studied him, the wind curling her damp locks into knots across her back. The dancing flames between them tossed shadows and flickering illuminations across their faces. The crackling fire tried unsuccessfully to drown the soft murmur of the lake lapping its shore. That cold, cold lake Josh should have, by rights, shared for eternity.
There was no sound. No warning. No scream. Just a flash of lightning quick movement as Andy vaulted over the flames and onto Josh. The big man tumbled from his perch on the rotting log and into the soggy leaves behind it as her weight slammed into his chest. Her hands had ripped the collar of the man’s bedraggled flight suit down and exposed the truth before he could react to her assault.
Time returned to normal and then slowed as she stared at her discovery. The pungent odor of wood smoke and damp earth played across her nostrils. The wet leaves beneath her planted right knee let their dampness soak inexorably through her pant leg. Beneath her other knee, she could feel the hammer of Josh’s heart, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Then, his brilliant cat-like green eyes drew her away from the find, drew her back to his face.
“I’m sorry,” Josh whispered. “I didn’t think even you would understand if I....”
Andy slugged him in the nose, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone and the squish of cartilage.
Josh flinched, but remained silent. Not a whimper escaped his lips as thick blood trickled across them.
Andy too said nothing. She just stared, watching him bleed. Then, her hand reached out again, gently this time, to reposition the wounded organ. Carefully, she prodded the swelling injury, pushing and shifting the shattered bone into place. Each movement sent knives of pain shooting through Josh’s face, but, teeth clenched, he held his tongue.
Her work finished, Andy affirmed her position, pinning Josh even more securely - though he’d made no effort to escape - and settled to studying his nose.
Minutes slid by slowly, the fire’s roar now veiled under the breathing of the two humans. So it seemed to the two at any rate. Wet, straggling hair half-covering both their faces, they stared into each others’ eyes through the veils. Andy brown eyes were intent, determined. Josh’s green orbs merely radiated resignation. He already knew the inevitable outcome.
Both waited.
At length, Andy reached out to once more finger Josh’s nose. The swelling was gone, the gaps in the cartilage nonexistent.
“It healed,” she muttered, eyes returning to his neck, to the raised bumps that a more careful glance confirmed as gill slits. Her brown eyes found Josh’s green ones again.
“You’re a lusus*,” she informed him.
“Yes, I am,” Josh returned, suddenly matter-of-fact. “Lusus naturae - Latin. Sport... or freak.... of nature,” he recited, staring back into her eyes evenly.
“I...” Andy stumbled over her own words, looking away. “I didn’t know.”
It was true. She hadn’t known “lusus,” the most accepted term for the tentatively dubbed “subspecies” of which Josh was surely a member, was a cultured insult. Of course, she also hadn’t known Josh was a part of that subspecies, so it wasn’t fair to pin that particular blame on her. Josh on the other hand....
“You lied to me!” she blurted, returning her cold glare to his face once more.
“Lied?!” Josh yelped. “Did you ever ask me if I was a lusus? I th....”
Andy cut him off.
“You know what I mean! You let me think... you let everyone think you were normal!”
“Is that a crime?” Josh asked, voice level. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Look at me!” the sandy-haired man demanded, his eyes more authoritative than his soft voice. “I look normal! I had a chance only a handful of our kind have ever had. I could be normal... and no one had to know the difference,” he finished as his voice dropped so low it was nearly inaudible.
“You still lied,” Andy returned, equally quiet. “We’re fighting a small war for you, you know.”
“You’re fighting a war because the government thinks everyone in this state is ‘infected’ with the only chemical mutagen known to man,” Josh reminded her. “Most of our men aren’t fighting for the sake of the lusus the government wants to destroy. They’re fighting because they think the government would rather kill us all to be certain the ‘contamination’ doesn’t spread.”
“We’d help the lusus if they’d speak to us,” Andy snapped. “Instead, they hide out in....!”
“They hide because everyone’s afraid of them! Because everyone thinks it’s contagious!” For the first time, Josh’s voice rose. “It is contagious, Andy, but not like they think. It’s not a disease. It’s a chemical conglomerate we’re born with in our bloodstream. And, it would be the greatest asset to medical science in history... You saw how my nose healed.” His voice grew dark. “But, there’s no separating the healing ability from the mutation aspects... and, much as I love them, not everyone wants gills.”
“No wonder you didn’t drown!” Andy squalled.
“Well, yeah... But, if it makes you feel any better, I could have been crushed in that hunk of metal.”
Andy sniffed. “It doesn’t.” She paused to eye him up. “You don’t have the rest of the usual looks lusus are famed for either. You don’t look much like the fabled ‘frogmen’....”
“Right,” Josh affirmed weakly. “I’m an aberration.” He smiled wanly. “A freak among the freaks.”
“Yeah, well... You’re a handsome freak,” Andy returned with a grin, her mood improving.
Josh blushed at the sudden compliment. Then, he returned to more pressing matters. “One whose liver is being crushed into his spine....”
“Oh.” Carefully, Andy rose, freeing Josh, and turned to offer him a hand. He accepted and she pulled him to his feet. The dark-haired woman paused suddenly, glaring into his eyes. “Wait a minute! Why am I worrying about your liver or your spine?! They’d just heal like your nose!”
“It still hurts,” Josh assured her, reaching a hand to his nose to assure himself she hadn’t deliberately angled it to heal strangely. Assured all was well, he caught Andy’s arm. She looked at him, surprised by the sudden gesture even as he met her gaze and began to speak. “Andy,... Are you going to tell anyone.... about me?”
She blinked, her brown eyes studying his face.
“No.”
Josh started to smile.
“I’m going to let you tell them about you.”
“What?! Andy,....!” he sputtered, releasing her.
“They’re going to have as many questions as me about how you survived.... And, it’s time we knew the truth about your people.” She paused. “And, maybe time they joined us.”
Josh understood her veiled suggestion immediately.
“They won’t listen to me, Andy. Just because I am one of them and look like the rest of humanity doesn’t make me the ultimate go-between!” He flung his arms wide in a defeated gesture. “I left them to be with ‘the others’.... I disowned them. The other lusus want nothing....!”
He was cut off by Andy’s finger on his lips.
“Surely your own family would take you back.... and listen?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips. “Besides, if we’re all potentially infected maybe we’re all going to end up like you guys anyway.”
“But....!”
Andy’s brown eyes locked on his yet again.
“You owe me one for that lie. Which means you will go back and tell everyone the truth. And, if you don’t, then you’ll be owing me for covering up for you for a long time. And, trust me, I’ll make your life miserable. You’ll have to shine my boots, get me extra rations...”
Andy was only half-kidding. Staring into Josh’s green eyes, she saw him debating his options. Any way he twisted it, she was right. There would be too many questions. Which meant he went back with her and told his story or he left. She prayed it would be the former.
“Alright,” Josh agreed at last. “But, I see my people first.” He stood and started to walk into the trees.
“Why?” Andy called after him.
“Because,” Josh returned lightly, vanishing into the trees.
“That’s not an answer.” Andy dashed after him. She would get an answer... all of them, in time.

Epilogue

“It’s causing a serious stink, but I think the whole of it’s coming out at last,” Alex announced, tossing a newspaper and a magazine down on the coffee table in front of his grandfather.
His grandfather bent to examine the magazine cover, which displayed the ultrasound that had been Alex’s first real proof as its cover image.
“I hope no one gets any ideas about you,” he mumbled.
“Oh, they will.” Alex smirked. “But, they don’t know what to look for.”
“Cut your hand open and watch it seal up and they’d have all they need.”
“That would look good, no? I find out what they covered up and then I disappear?”
His grandfather looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “Fine. Just watch yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “This is your project anyway. I’ll be long gone before it makes any changes.”
Alex laughed, reaching over to smack his grandfather lightly with the newspaper. “No, you won’t, Grandpa Josh. Lusus are long-lived!”
Josh Mathis opened one eye. “Only if they remember to respect their elders,” he snapped.
Alex chuckled softly, and Josh joined him.

* - I don't like this term. Mainly because I know it's been used before and I wanted something original My apologies to Sarah Combs because I believe it's her I bummed it off. It was 3:00 am and the story was due for Creative Writing, and I was braindead. Unfortunately, even though that was a year ago, I'm still braindead. Any ideas would be greatly appreciated.