Revolution Read Free Page A

earlier, two other transgenic monsters named Lyudmila and
Piotr had appeared. In a violent battle, both had died, but not
before mentioning something about thirty-five other enhanced
individuals who’d escaped. The FBI in league with some European
countries was in the process of trying to find them. So far, they’d
had no luck.
    Harry sat lost in his memories until the
touch of his girlfriend’s hand, covered in fur, soft and fine,
brought him back to reality. “Listen,” said Anastasia, her voice
low and sweet, “Farrell called me yesterday while you were in the
shower. He’s coming by in the morning with supplies. We’ll talk to
him then, okay?”
    Harry forced out a smile. “Yeah, we’ll talk.
Let’s go back to bed.”
    Anastasia got up and padded over to the wall.
A flick of her finger doused the lights and her yellow eyes shone
in the darkness. Harry lay back and felt the warmth of his
girlfriend next to him. Her hand came up to touch his face. “I have
to tell you something,” she said in a drowsy voice.
    “What?”
    “I love you.”
    She turned over then and soon he heard her
quiet, rhythmical breathing. A smile crossed his face and he put
his arm around her waist. A faint purr came from her—then silence.
Love was fine, but the feeling of uncertainty remained, and he lay
awake until the early hours of the morning.
    Awakening at the crack of dawn, Harry slipped
out of bed. Anastasia was still asleep, so he decided to do the
shower-and-shave thing, with the emphasis on shaving. It was a
daily ordeal, heavier than what most men had to go through, and he
really didn’t care for it.
    Inside the bathroom, he observed his physique
in the full-length mirror. An image of a young man with gray hair
and black spots all over his body, fur on his face, whiskers, and
yellow eyes greeted him.
    The fur on his body had been there since
going through the Genesis Chamber, but the facial growth hadn’t
started until recently. Late genes kicking in, he thought as he ran
his hand around his face. “It’s not easy being furry,” he muttered
as he took a disposable razor—one of seven—and after running some
hot water over it, started to carefully shave his forehead.
    Once that razor got clogged up, he tossed it
away and used another. This was his ritual every morning as his fur
and genetics resisted change. The hair always grew back, a slow but
steady advance, so by noon it appeared as if he had a five o’clock
shadow.
    Shaving chores over, he entered the shower,
rinsed off and after shaking the excess water from his body, used a
blow dryer to style. Towels didn’t really cut it. Job over, he
padded outside and went to the closet where he got dressed in a
long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans.
    “I hear something,” Anastasia called out
while he finished dressing. “It sounds like Farrell’s car.”
    Harry walked over to the window, noted the
time on the clock—ten-thirty—and saw the banged up Ford that their
contact always drove. He opened the door and called out, “Yeah,
he’s here. Let’s greet the man in black.”
    Farrell got out of his car and jogged over to
the cabin with a couple of plastic bags in his hands. “And to what
do we owe this visit?” asked Anastasia as she came to the door. Her
voice sounded like ice cubes rattling in a glass. “You called us
up. Today’s Tuesday. You usually come by on Wednesday to deliver
the groceries.”
    Apparently, Farrell was immune to her
iciness. When she’d turned up in New York, memory impaired, feral
and wary, he’d considered her a spy. Not true at all. She’d always
been loyal, but he occasionally questioned her patriotism.
    With a polite nod, he handed over the bags to
her. “I have to coordinate with my men up here,” he said, gesturing
to the forest. “It’s a pretty big spread up here, and there’s a lot
of space for someone to hide.”
    Anastasia’s icy demeanor evaporated and she
let out a giggle. “Yeah, I know. You’ve got two